#lil golden shades

[reniadeb]

giddy up, pardner

[sunshades]

everyone have a happy problem girl february!

first outfit based off a jean paul gaultier 2014 look 👀🦋🧡

[honeyhobies]

🔀 punkflower u already knowwwwwww

til i die - THEY. / dillon francis — fast and furious au

but lets play with it a bit: miles is a vigilante who goes undercover in the street racing world to try to get to the bottom of the string of robberies happening around his city. he's heard of hobie brown, infamous leader of the FNSM racers, who has no qualms being the main suspect in everything and anything—except, apparently, these robberies.

no one believes him, but no one can pin him and his racers at the scene of the crime(s) either. whoever's doing it may as well be invisible, slipping in to steal what they want—gear, car parts, non-perishables, medical equipment, pharmaceuticals—and driving off before the hijacked truck can even come to a complete stop. every police report and truck scanner say the same thing:

"they're quick, they're efficient, and they're showy bastards. loud music, louder cars, i don't know how i missed them, but the fuckers got me anyway."

as a vigilante, miles isn't going to have access to the police reports, but he has followed the sounds of that blaring, victorious music and gunning cars around the city enough to fall into the same camp as everyone else: this has to be the FNSM racers.

but why these trucks? what exactly are they doing with all these stolen goods? and how can he get concrete proof it's them?

miles doesn't have the racing experience. but he's got the smarts to modify cars, the guts to floor them anyway, and most importantly that same drive to push against any blockades set before him until he's coming out on the other side triumphant, just like hobie does.

and hobie likes that. he doesn't trust him—until he does, and they're forced to reckon with the reality of who they both are—but he likes that burning earnestness in miles' eye, the fact that he seems determined to find his place right next to him. step for step, mile for mile.

when hobie talks about family to miles, he really likes seeing how that fire in his eye seems to shift into something a little warmer, homier. hobie doesn't lean in when he catches miles' eyes darting down to his lips while he talks about community, and he regrets it up until miles is forced to reveal his true motive and everything changes.

(he doesn't miss his second chance though. after his car is destroyed and the cops are bearing down on them and miles has thrown him his own keys, hobie doesn't even glance at the get-away car. he pulls miles in and kisses him until the approaching sirens are louder than his own racing heart beat. then whispers an address against miles' lips before he jumps into the car and makes a speedy escape)

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, get an au ask game!

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru��s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[maiteo]

do you not like sinner?

erm….i was hoping for a medvedev win🧍🏽‍♀️

[illyrianbitch]

Body Count

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.

based on this funny lil request!

Warnings: angst if you squint, miscommunication, silly az and silly cassian making fun of silly az, mentions of death/killing, a sweet lil kiss! fluff!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’ve always had a soft spot for Azriel. 

It wasn’t just his mysterious aura and brooding looks that made him irresistibly attractive to you— though those definitely added to the appeal. Azriel was thoughtful. He was attentive. He seemed to understand you and your needs in a way that none of your other friends could. 

Your feelings for him had grown over time, blossoming into a full-blown crush.

And for the most part, it seemed like Azriel enjoyed your company too. 

There was a playful flirtation between you two, a spark that you hoped would ignite into something more. It had grown even hotter these past two months, through conversations that were held entirely too close to one another, stolen glances, and brief touches that sent shivers down your spine. 

But deep down in your stomach, there was something holding you back— a bitter, nauseating feeling. You weren’t just nervous, you were insecure. 

It wasn’t a secret that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had their fair share of lovers. After all, they were all extremely attractive and had lived for centuries longer than you. But the idea of Azriel’s love life had begun to spin itself into an anxious, terrifying web in your mind. You weren’t experienced in such matters— at least, not nearly as experienced as Azriel must've been. The thought was daunting to you. Terrifying, really.

It was late at night now, and the last of your family had bid their goodnights, retreating to their respective rooms and homes. You found yourself alone with Azriel in the dimly lit living room, the small crackling fire mixing with the remnants of the celebration that lingered in the air— the heady scent of wine and the distinct smells of each of your loved ones. 

You stole a glance at Azriel, noticing the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes bright with mirth. His shadows were calm, dancing playfully around his feet and his arms. He caught your gaze instantly, offering you a lopsided smile, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a way that made your heart flutter.

This was your chance— a perfect, quiet moment to confess something to him. To tell him how you felt. 

But the nauseating feeling in your stomach bubbled up once more. You bit the inside of your cheek. Perhaps it was the perfect moment indeed. Not to confess your feelings quite yet, but to get rid of the spider web of overthinking you’d created. 

Summoning up the courage, you leaned closer to him, the alcohol emboldening you. "Hey, Az," you began, your voice soft and hesitant.

Azriel turned to you. "Yeah?" 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can I ask you something?"

Azriel’s face seemed to soften. "Of course."

You held his gaze for a moment, taking in the hues of his eyes that seemed more golden in the firelight. A small blush rose to your cheeks and you swallowed nervously, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. 

"What is your body count?" 

Azriel blinked. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as his mouth slightly parted, and you watched as his gaze seemed to dance around your face. He opened his mouth to respond, but a hiccup escaped him instead of words.

"I'm just... I was just wondering," you stammered, your cheeks burning hotter with heat. "If you're comfortable sharing, that is."

Azriel smiled at you, letting out another small hiccup as he repositioned himself to lean closer.  His shadows seemed to reach out towards you, a subtle, almost subconscious gesture of reassurance. "It's alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't mind sharing."

He took a moment to compose himself. “8,754.”

As if you’d been doused in icy water, your alcohol-induced haze dissipated instantly. 

"Oh," you breathed out, your eyes widening in shock. "Oh."

You would’ve tried harder to hide your shock, but the only thing you could focus on now was the large, heavy, number. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. 

You expected a large number, sure. You told yourself that you could come to terms with it, learn how to be comfortable with the gap in your experiences. But you hadn’t prepared yourself for this large of a number, and suddenly you felt… uneasy. 

Azriel watched you closely, his expression quickly filling with concern. "Are you alright?" 

Azriel had been with over 8,754 people?

You nodded slowly. Unable to meet his gaze, you casted your eyes towards the carpet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," you murmured, "I, uh, I think I need to go home. I must’ve drank too much."

Azriel seemed to sober up immediately. His shadows, which had been lazily swirling around his feet, suddenly grew still, sensing his shift in mood. He sat up straight, a look of worry crossing his features. "Here, let me walk you to your room," he offered, his wings slightly unfurling as if ready to rise.

You avoided his gaze once more, shaking your head quickly. "It's alright. I got it," you insisted, standing up a bit too quickly. You swayed slightly, and his wings twitched as if he wanted to reach out and steady you. You quickly regained your balance. "Goodnight, Az."

Azriel watched you go, shadows trailing after you slightly before retracting back to him. His wings sagged, a sense of helplessness washing over him as he watched your retreating form disappear down the hallway.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel was tense. Every muscle in his body, every movement he made, it all felt constrained– stressed. Troubled. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, their hurried movements perfectly mirroring the deep agitation he felt in his gut.

Days had passed since his last proper conversation with you. He missed it— missed your presence, missed your laughter. He’d grown so used to your company, had begun to look forward to your conversations and the small flirty banter that he’d gained the confidence to indulge in. But you were distant now— awkward, even. And it was driving him mad. 

It was hot out, the afternoon sun blaring down on him and Cassian as the sound of clashing blades filled the air. Heavy sweat trickled down their faces, to a point where Azriel’s hair clung to his forehead like glue. 

But Azriel’s mind was anywhere but the training ring. And his brother quickly noticed.

"Alright," Cassian said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Either you're losing to stroke my ego, or something's going on."

Azriel grumbled, parrying another blow. "I'd never lose for your ego.” His wings twitched in annoyance. 

Cassian frowned, a scrutinizing gaze watching Azriel's movements closely. Something was definitely off. He tied his hair back up, securing it tightly. "Alright, spill it."

"No," Azriel replied curtly, his grip tightening on his weapon. His shadows seemed to wrap tighter around his form, as if trying to shield him from the conversation.

"No?" Cassian echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to talk about my feelings with you. We're not twelve.”

Cassian let out a small scoff, raising his hands in exasperation. "By the Cauldron, Az, just tell me why you've got a stick up your ass."

Azriel glared at him. A moment passed. And then he sighed, sheathing his weapon. 

"Y/N has been avoiding me, it seems."

Cassian frowned. "Are you sure?"

The question only brought a scowl to Azriel’s face, who threw Cassian a glare. 

"Yes, Cassian. I'm sure."

There was an itchy, prickling feeling of annoyance filtering through Azriels skin. His shadows flared out briefly before settling back into their usual orbit.

"Well, what did you do?"

Azriel’s shadows twisted tighter and his wings rustled uneasily.

"I didn't do anything.” 

Cassian gave him a skeptical look, crossing his arms. "Really?"

Azriel threw him another withering glare. But when Cass only responded with a raised eyebrow, Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly. "At least, nothing that I'm aware of."

"Alright," Cass said, "Maybe you offended her somehow. What happened the last time things were normal? Can you remember?"

Azriel paused. He remembered quite clearly despite the drunken haze he had been in. He grimaced as the memory drifted into his mind, bright and clear as day. 

"She asked me for my body count.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. He stilled, leaning forward slightly. "And?"

"And I told her.”

There was a pensive look on Cassian’s face, a furrow forming between his brows as he processed Azriel's words. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What is your body count?" 

Exactly like that other night, Azriel replied without hesitation. "8,754.”

Cassian coughed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I-I’m sorry?" he spluttered, caught off guard by the staggering number.

Azriel's confusion deepened, a frown marring his features. "You know this.”

"No," Cassian countered, shaking his head emphatically. “I do not know this.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, offering Cassian a cold unamused and irritated stare. “Yes, you do.”

"Apparently not.” Cassian let out a scoff. “Hell, I would’ve remembered if you slept with almost nine thousand people, Az. That's more than me."

Azriel’s face twisted into a scowl, a deep crease forming between his brows. His wings flared slightly. 

"Slept with? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Realization flickered in Cassian’s widened eyes, and suddenly, an understanding dawned on him. "Oh," he breathed out, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He let out a hearty laugh. "Got all the skills in the world but that brain still fails ya, huh Az?" 

Azriel fought the urge to send a swift hit to his brother's jaw, if only to knock the amused grin off his face. 

"Can you be serious for one godsdamned minute?" Azriel snapped.

Cassian's laughter subsided, his expression sobering as he met Azriel's gaze— only slightly. The grin still persisted. "Body count doesn’t refer to your kill count," he explained, "It’s how many people you’ve fucked."

Azriel's face dropped and the color drained from his cheeks. From behind him, his wings fell limp. "You can’t be serious.”

"Deadly serious, brother.”

Azriel glanced to the ground, his mind racing through that moment with you. He thought back to your response, to that small “Oh” that haunted him, to the way your eyes widened. He’d simply assumed that you were disgusted by the amount of lives he’d taken, that you’d spent the night imagining how much blood was on his hands. For some reason, this new reality of what the question meant— it felt even more intimate. Oh gods.

"So does Y/n think that I..." he trailed off.

"That you've fucked almost nine thousand people?" Cassian finished for him, a subtle grimace painted on his features.

"But I haven't," Azriel protested.

"Well, you should probably be telling her that." 

Azriel didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel, desperate to immediately find you and explain the very apparent miscommunication. 

"Wait!" Cassian called out. Azriel paused, turning around with an impatient glare. 

"Take a bath. You stink," Cassian said, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.

Azriel's glare deepened, and he flipped Cassian off before continuing his stride toward the exit.

Cassian's laughter boomed behind him, the sound trailing after Azriel as he walked away. "eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four," Cassian muttered to himself, still chuckling in disbelief.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel rushed down the hallway. Following Cassian’s unasked for advice, he was freshly bathed, hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. His shadows flitted nervously around his feet, his wings twitching restlessly at his back. 

He had no time to waste. Azriel really liked you. He needed to find you and clear up the misunderstanding before it began to fester into something deeper, something much harder to clean up. 

He found you in your room, catching you just as you were about to leave. “Y/n,” he said, as he came to a stop in your doorway. His voice was a bit louder than he intended.

You jumped, letting out a small scream as you spun to face him.  You caught his gaze as your hand flew to your heart. “Azriel,” you breathed out, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you steadied your breathing. “You scared me.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his wings shifting slightly– a small, but clear sign of his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said softly.

You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Az.” 

His smile grew. “Hi Y/n,” he responded, walking further into your room. “Are you heading out?”

You blinked in an attempt to break away from his gaze, casting a quick glance down towards your window. “Oh, yeah. I was just gonna go walk about Velaris, get some fresh air.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you like some company?”

You hesitated too, a part of you wanting to say yes. But then the infamous number came to mind, and the bitter, nauseating feeling returned. “Maybe another time?” you said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

Azriel could tell you meant it, but the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Alright,” he responded softly, his wings drooping slightly. “Enjoy your walk.”

A wave of sadness rolled through you at his response, at the way his shadows seemed to still at your rejection. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in his wet hair and the way his eyes seemed to plead with you. 

“I’ll see you later,” you said, offering him a small smile before making a move to side-step him. 

Before he could overthink it, Azriel reached out and gently grabbed your arm. The touch was soft, but it stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to him, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, faces only inches away.

His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. A giddy flutter spread through you as his touch sent warmth racing through your veins. You melted into his grip, feeling a hunger for his closeness after just a few days without it. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, before flickering down to your lips. You took a deep breath.

“I’ve taken 8,754 lives,” Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, properly facing him now, trying to process his words. “What?”

Azriel looked sheepish, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. 

His shadows fluttered around him.

“The other night, you asked me what my body count was. I told you 8,754.”

You nodded slowly. “I remember.”

“I thought you were asking how many people I’d killed. Not—” he paused, a small blush reaching his cheeks. “Not how many people I’ve slept with.”

Your lips parted in an O of realization. You took in his face, observing how his shadows swirled tirelessly around him. Azriel offered you a small, unsure smile. A small laugh left your lips.

“Why would I be asking you how many people you’ve killed?” you finally asked. Your voice was soft with confusion and a hint of amusement. A small gleam grew in the shadowsinger’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel responded honestly. “Why were you asking how many people I’ve slept with?” 

You blushed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s silly.”

Azriel reached forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. You fluttered at the sudden closeness, feeling a rush of warmth and nerves flow through your body. 

“It’s not,” he insisted softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity.

“I just wanted to prepare myself. I haven’t… I’m not experienced in these types of things.” You paused, holding his gaze for a moment. And then the corners of your lips tugged into a smile. “But gods, it’s good to know I don’t have to compete with the experience of almost nine thousand previous lovers.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You never have to compete with anyone, Y/n. Especially not with me.”

A warmth settled in your chest. His thumb stroked your hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to cause butterflies in your stomach with every touch. 

“Well, that’s good to know,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” 

Azriel’s voice was soft now, a low cadence that made you feel like puddy in his hands. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a small smile.

The smile on his face grew further. You traced the movement with your eyes, taking in the small smile lines and dimples that formed. His smile dropped slightly as he frowned, brows furrowing slightly. 

“Wait.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Hmm?”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed 8,754 people?

 “I know you have your reasons.” You shrugged gently. “Also, I don’t have to compete with dead people.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, as if a weight had been lifted off him. A chuckle left his mouth. It was warm and genuine, and the sound resonated deeply within you. “Just one of the many reasons why I like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You like me?

Azriel nodded, his gaze unwavering— something soft, almost sacred. “I do.”

A rush of warmth spread through you at his confession. You took a moment to let the words sink in. Your grin widened. “I knew it.”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”

Your grin widened even more and you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. His thumb continued its gentle rhythm on your hand.  “Do you feel the same way?” he asked. 

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it,” you admitted, mirroring his previous words with a soft smile.

Azriel’s expression seemed to soften further, his eyes reflecting a warm sense of longing. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek delicately, his touch sending a shiver down your body. You took a deep breath, feeling his scarred fingers run alongside your cheek. He met your eyes again, his gaze heavy, seeking something— permission. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

Words eluded you for a moment as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You simply nodded, breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “Please.”

For another fleeting moment, his hand cradled your face delicately, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And then he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was sweet and fervent.

It was shy at first— a hesitant, tentative meeting of lips that conveyed unspoken feelings that had never been fully addressed until now. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming your senses. You pressed yourself further into his touch, fingers moving to tangle themselves in his hair as you pulled him closer. 

Azriel let out a sound of content as the kiss deepened, his shadows wrapping around you both like a protective embrace. You felt their cool, feather touch around your body, felt as lone tendrils weaved through your hair. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he savored the closeness between you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your cheek. 

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.

You let out a soft laugh. 

“Me too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[milkloafy]

YOUR DEAR FRIEND, DAN HENG — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: friends don’t buy each other matching necklaces, right? especially not ones with blatantly romantic undertones… ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, gn!reader, matchmaker!street vendor in the luofu LMAO ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.1k+ ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: written for @starlitsawamura's garden of eden collab! :> i chose camellia as the flower!! just a lil fluffy drabble with best boy dan heng

If you had to choose only one thing you adored about the Xianzhou Luofu, it would be the multitude of booths and vendors that lined the bustling streets. The Luofu had its many sanctuaries of peace, but the areas of chatter and liveliness was what really caught you attention. 

This time, much to your pleasure, Dan Heng had offered to accompany you on your latest visit. 

“Ooh! Isn’t this so pretty?” you exclaimed, eyeing a shiny gold necklace with a dainty pendant of a camellia flower in the middle. In the center of the flower was a sparkly little diamond. It was no wonder the glimmer immediately caught your eye. 

Dan Heng walked up behind you and peered at the necklace over your shoulder. He nodded once. “It looks nice.”

You giggled at his short response. “What a compliment coming from Dan Heng himself.”

“I try,” he remarked wryly. “It’s a camellia flower, correct?”

“That’s right!” the vendor who was lingering nearby butted in. She was an older lady with a bright smile. “The beautiful camellia. A flower the conveys with it the feeling of love and affection, burning passion. I’d say it puts even the grandiose rose to shame.”

Gently, you clasped the pendant between your thumb and forefinger, brushing the golden petals. 

“I like it,” you said with certainty, debating on whether or not you should buy it right now.

Dan Heng looked between the pendant and your neck. “It suits you.”

You hid your smile. Somehow, such simple words were enough to warm your heart. It was only natural when such words came from Dan Heng. Your dear friend.

“But that’s not all!” the vendor cried once more. “Let your Auntie here show you.” She shuffled around to the other side of the cart before returning with another necklace dangling between her fingers. “There’s a matching pair!” 

Your eyes widened in excitement at the sight of the matching necklace. The pendant was the same, but instead of a diamond in the middle it was a small pearl. The chain was slightly thicker and heavier. You thought it would look good on Dan Heng, especially over his high-necked black shirt. 

“I love it!” you chirped, immediately reaching for your coin pouch. “They’re both so cute.”

You paused before giving into your impulses. It wasn’t like you’d have much use for two of the same necklaces.

As if sensing your hesitation, the vendor held the two necklaces together, revealing them to you as if they were a precious treasure. 

“Do you know the language of the flowers, dear?” she whispered conspiratorially. “‘My heart is aflame for you’. ‘I burn for you.’ That is what these necklaces say. And that is why you and your boyfriend should definitely buy these! Your love will be destined to last forever.” 

“My boyfriend?” you said, looking around wildly before your gaze landed on Dan Heng. Once you realized the vendor’s implications, your cheeks heated up. “Oh! Dan Heng? He’s… He’s not—”

“We’ll take it.” 

“Wonderful!” 

“What?” You blinked. 

It all happened so fast. Dan Heng, pulling out his money and paying before you could; the vendor, counting the credits and handing the camellia necklaces over to him. Your eyes could hardly keep up.

“This Auntie thanks you for your patronage,” said the vendor with a proud smile as Dan Heng bowed his head in gratitude and walked away with you in two. “Come again soon!” 

When he reached a spot underneath the shade of a tree, he offered the necklace with the diamond to you. 

“Here,” said Dan Heng. “It looked like you really wanted it. I hope you do not mind I bought it for you.” 

You shook your head, touched that he would do something like that for you. There were many things you loved in life, and of those many things, one of them was receiving gifts. “I don’t mind at all. I’m happy you got it for me. Thank you, Dan Heng!” 

Taking the necklace into your hands, you attempted to clasp the chain together behind your neck. After a few tries, you sighed in frustration. 

A few more moments passed before you heard someone clear their throat. “Do you need assistance?” 

He maneuvered behind you as you nodded. “Yes, please.”

Slowly, Dan Heng brushed the loose strands of hair on your neck aside and took the ends of the chain between his fingers. His fingertips felt cool against your skin, and your back straightened at the delicate touch. 

Their was restraint in his movement. It felt as if he was trying his hardest to not make direct contact with you, in fear it would be unwelcome. But that only made the accidental touches even more electrifying. You held back a shiver as his knuckle brushed against your bare neck. 

Dan Heng was soon able to clasp your necklace together and stepped away once he did. “There.”

“Thank you.” You touched the pendant with a smile, secure in its spot at the base of your neck. “Would you like some help as well?” 

He considered it for a moment before nodding. “Sure.” 

Swiftly, you took his necklace from his palm and had him turn around. Placing it around his neck, you fastened the chain together. You decided it was much easier when you could actually see the clasp.  

“There,” you announced, moving back to admire the pretty gold necklace against Dan Heng’s black shirt. ��It looks so good on you!” 

He chuckled, his cheeks turning pink. “You as well.” 

“Thank you,” you said, fighting off the bashfulness you felt at his compliment. Clearing your throat, you managed to ask, “So, what do you think of the hidden meaning the vendor mentioned?”

Dan Heng considered it for a moment before replying. “It seems the camellia is a very passionate flower. In that sense, it suits you. In terms of the love and romance aspect…” he trailed off, face growing even more red. “Who knows what the future holds.”

You blinked, your ears burning with heat. That might have been as close to an admission as you would get from Dan Heng. 

“Are you implying that the future may hold something like that for us?” you said slowly and curiously, hoping you weren’t interpreting his words the wrong way. 

He smiled almost hesitantly. “I’m uncertain myself what the future has planned, but I wouldn’t mind taking a chance on us.”

For a moment, you were stunned into a shocked silence before happiness overcame you. You laughed at how Dan Heng could be both forward and indirect at the same time.

“Well, we already have the matching necklaces for it,” you said teasingly, touching the camellia pendant once more. “I’d love to take a chance with you.”

[eccentricallygothic]

Coy

Pairing: Daddy!Steve Rogers | Shy Gf!You.

Description: Steve makes his shy girl call him Daddy <3

Warning(s): Stevie is lowkey a lil mean, m!dom, f!sub, size kink, unprotected p-in-v, missionary, doggy style, dick riding towards the end, spanking, hair pulling, age gap bc it's me, slight bondage idk, choking, humiliation, dumbification, dirty talk. MDNI.

Type: Request for my lovely @chxrryhansen, here. 

MASTERLIST

❤️

“C'mon, just say it, baby” Steve wasn't sure if the annoyance in his voice was unclear or if you were just that stupid. 

“Nooo, Stevie!” You giggled even though you had been whining just a few seconds ago because of how much strength he had had to use and the endurance that had been required of you to withstand the entering of his monstrous cock in your tight little pussy. Yes, Steve had indeed fingered you before that. And yes, it still hadn't been enough to open up your tiny hole. 

Not for Steve, anyway.

“Oh—” he stopped to keep himself from saying something hurtful because you were too sensitive for your own good. “Just… fuck!” He abruptly cursed as your pussy responded to the twitching of his dick by clenching around it just when he was balls deep inside you. “Just say it for me, yeah, baby?” You were choking his dick out and his dick was in pain too. 

Only, your tightness and his girth made up a pain too nice for either of you to want to stop. 

Your face was flush and your heavy breaths were labored, the weight of his massive body pressing yours down into the mattress. “B- But it's wrong, S- Stevie…” It took him all his strength to not scoff at your words so he took his ire out on your poor little nipple that was trapped between his cruel fingertips. 

“Why?” Steve's hips nearly collided with yours when he gave you yet another heavy but speedy thrust. 

“B- Because you're not actually my Daddy, S- Steve— hnng!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you felt his breach intensify, the pangs that were being caused by the vicious jabbing of his hard, thick tip against your innermost spot on the brink of reaching your cervix. 

Steve's nose flared and his blue eyes suddenly flashed you an icy look. “Yeah?” His eyebrows went flat but the violent rocking of his body against yours didn't. The room was full of the gut-wrenchingly obscene sounds of skin slapping against flesh. “Who do you think I am, then?” 

It was getting harder to form proper words the more his cock caused for the burning knot to tighten between your hips. “Y- You… You're… AH!” Your arms that were coiled around his broad shoulders tightened against his neck to withstand how his huge hand rudely was squeezing your boob. “You're… b- bofi…” Steve's strength was no joke.

“And who says bofis can't be Daddies?” The golden haired man expectantly peered down at you for an answer but you were too busy moaning and rocking yourself against his cock as much as his heavy body allowed you to do so. 

“B- But…” Your small protest told him all he needed to know.

Steve didn't have time for this nonsense. 

A loud plop! sounded in the air and you blushed a deep shade of red despite your worked up state. Before you could word your complaint about why Steve had suddenly pulled out of your weepy cunt, the older flipped you onto your chest and roughly pushed what remained of your shirt -the beast had a thing for ripping your clothes off, good thing he made up for it by buying you prettier compensations- up your arms and around your wrists until they were bound above your head. 

New slick bubbled out of your opening as you whimpered and felt your hole blink in sensitive realization of the fact that now he wanted you to lay your face down and keep your ass up. Fuck. When he took you like that, there was absolutely nothing he couldn't make you do or say. 

After that, Steve had your throat in one hand and your boobs in the other, his muscular thighs fished their way under your trembling legs to collect them out of his way. His tip that had cooled down a bit made you jump when he entered you again and though the penetration was somewhat easier this time around, you couldn't help but whine from the stretch again. 

And then, Steve went into a crazed jackhammer mode. Your throat tickled and ached from the deep groans that crawled up your vocal cavity, ones that your position was forcing you to stifle into the mattress. The temperature of his cock easily returned back to its previous warmth. 

“Say it” he demanded as he squeezed your windpipe. 

All you could let out was a humiliating, breathless and incoherent guttural ‘aaaaah~’ as your body began to slide off his due to the force of his brutal fucking. The tip of your nose hurt from how it rubbed up and down the bedding.

“Tsk, messy little kiddie brat” his hand abandoned your boob to firmly claw around one of your thighs to hold you in place to ensure a smooth pounding. “Needs Daddy for everything but acts like she doesn't” you could deny it to your heart's content and be as shy and ‘innocent’ as you pleased, but the way you moaned, messed yourself up and clenched when he said the dirtiest things was not lost on him.

Steve knew you liked it all just as much as he did. 

“Oh, my God—!” Steve squeezed your throat again because he did not like what he was hearing. Your lungs ached from the strain he was putting them under.

“Now that's a bit far, baby” before he shook in mirth and the vibration of his body shook your squishy walls, the sensation causing your eyes to roll until their undersides burnt. “But I guess that's okay too” your fucked out mind felt somewhat relieved. Maybe this would satiate him and you would not have to— “But that's not what I want to hear you call me tonight” your chest ached from the wheeze you let out when he finally let your throat go to smack your ass and you could breathe again. “Come on, now. Chop, chop” you cried out from the frustration. 

He was so mean.

“After all, Daddies take care of their kids. And I take care of you, don't I?” There was something in the way he worded it. You moaned out loud. His balls began to penetrate your stubborn opening. 

And then he crept his fingers between your legs and against your cunt. The grainy digits stroked your hardened flesh. And you knew at once, you had lost. 

It was impossible to hold back now. The taut dam of your building orgasm came undone and your toes curled as bittersweet relief exploded between your hips and down your legs.

“DADDY! OH, DADDY! OH!” You began to chant uncontrollably, feeling your knees shake as cold sweat trickled down the back of your thighs. 

“Now that's more like the dirty little slut that I've raised on this cock” when Steve really got into chasing his own orgasm, and he always did that after yours, the most obscene and sodomous things came out of his mouth. “Tell me, brat” since you were going through a mind melt, Steve smacked your ass to redirect your attention to him. “Will you ever try to deny your Daddy again?” His hand wrapped your hair around it and your body curved in a humiliating angle as he pulled you up to bounce on his cock now.

“N- No, no, Daddy, no! Never!” Your orgasm was turning into overstimulation and there was not a damn thing you could do about it.  

“Really?” You broke into a fit of cries when Steve began to pat-slap your clit. “Doesn't sound very convincing to me…”

“No! No, Daddy! I promise! I promise! I promise I won't, Daddy!” You were curved so far out that your head collapsed on one of his hard shoulders. Your chest ached from how violently your tits bounced up and down.

“That's my girl” The baritone of Steve's voice drilled into your mind as he looked down at you before capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, one tyrannical paw settling on your chest to keep you from falling down, hips springing you up and down like a mindless little toy.

❤️

Everything tag 🩷: @rosecentury

I know it sucks, I am sorry. I have a very bad creative block these days but I am trying my best to clear out all requests <3 

[cardansriddle]

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little &lt;3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour. 

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside. 

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet— 

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it. 

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle. 

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind. 

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left. 

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer. 

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised." 

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this." 

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine." 

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers. 

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to. 

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book. 

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done." 

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped. 

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. 

Tom placed the book on the counter. 

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader." 

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat. 

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality." 

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum." 

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse." 

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse." 

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say. 

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface. 

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September. 

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin. 

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened. 

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze. 

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind. 

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her. 

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed. 

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink. 

It was maddening. 

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination. 

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there. 

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling. 

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration. 

“It’s five minutes until closing time.” 

She would not be swayed so easily then. 

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses. 

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.” 

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.” 

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.” 

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf. 

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.” 

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster. 

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk." 

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed. 

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. 

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances." 

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology." 

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like. 

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. 

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her. 

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see. 

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat. 

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them. 

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight. 

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to. 

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

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[puckinghischier]

Sunburnt

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary: reader gets a little too excited on her first day at the lake, resulting in a nasty sunburn

notes: hi!!!! long time so see!! my writing slump has been brutal, but i had a lil pool day today and was sitting there thinking about what a summer at the hughes lake house is like while sunbathing and this little piece popped into my head. it’s not much and probably a lil all over the place, but i hope you enjoy!! i missed all of you 🥺

[3.3k]

(also, unedited bc it’s late and i’m going to bed. i might edit it in the morning, we’ll see)

You’ve waited all year for this. You have absolutely nothing on your agenda but two straight months of lake house fun and working on your tan.

Your move to New Jersey had really put a halt to any tan building for a majority of the year. You learned quickly that the winters were long and brutal, leaving little room to feed your sunbathing addiction.

You had tried to find a salon to tan at, but you quickly got bored of the bright lights and sterile smell. You even tried spray tans a couple of times, but you always felt you had more of an orange tone than a golden one.

You didn’t have to worry about any of it for a second longer, though. You were finally in the place you craved to be year-round.

Since the season ended early for the boys this year, the Devils losing their shot at the playoffs, you and Jack had packed your things and left Jersey the second all of his current post-season duties were over with.

Jack had managed to secure himself a pass on any other post season activities the players might be pulled for. He wasn’t required to return to the city until pre-season started.

Luke and Quinn were set to join the two of you whenever they could, but with Luke playing on the U.S. national team, and Quinn’s playoff run with the Canucks coming up, it would be weeks before either brother made their way to the beloved lake house.

Ellen and Jim were also set to join at some point during the stay, but weren’t yet sure of when they could escape their work for a few weeks.

This leaves you and Jack with the entire house to yourself for the beginning of your stay. You loved the other Hughes brothers, but with Luke living with Jack and your own roommate being a homebody, the two of you were rarely ever awarded with true alone time.

You were currently putting sheets on the bed in what will be yours and Jack’s room for the next two months while Jack unloads his car.

You were nearly done when you hear the sound of a suitcase being dragged up the stairs.

“God, Y/N, I know we’re going to be here a while, but it feels like you packed your entire apartment in here.”

Poking your head out of the open doorway, you watch as your boyfriend heaves your gigantic suitcase up the double flight of stairs.

“Well, I was going to only pack a few swimsuits and pjs, but I figured I should pack some real clothes for when the rest of your family gets here.”

Jack responds with a glare as he climbs the final step, stopping to take a breather. His face was a light shade of red and there were a few beads of sweat on his top lip.

“You know, I figured since you just finished your season you’d still be in pretty decent shape, but it looks like you’re going to have to stay in the gym all summer. Maybe do a bit more cardio and weight lifting, seeing as you’re struggling to carry my lil’ ole’ suitcase,” you tease, retreating back into the bedroom to place the decorative pillows on the bed.

“Maybe if you didn’t shove a dead body in your luggage I’d be able to carry it up the stairs like a normal person. But no, you had to pack cinderblocks.” He rolls the oversized suitcase into the corner of the room, placing his own measly duffle bag next to it.

You let a small giggle slip out, walking over to where Jack was standing with his hands on his hips.

Once you reach him, you place your hands through the opening left by his arms on either side of his torso, hugging him close to you. You let your chin rest on his chest as you look up at him, his own face tilted down so he could meet your eyes.

“Thank you, my big strong hockey player boyfriend, for carrying the dead body in my suitcase up the stairs. I’ll make sure to leave your name out of all this in court,” you joke, leaning up to place a small peck on his lips.

“Oh, how kind of you. How will I ever repay you?” Jack places his own arms around you, pulling you even closer.

“Hmmm…” you pretend to think. “How about helping me rub tanning lotion on my back and laying in the sun with me for the rest of the day?”

Jack acts like he’s mulling it over, raising his eyebrows while tilting his head to one side.

“I guess I can manage that. Considering the circumstances.”

You smile up at him, pulling out of his embrace.

“Yay! Okay, I have to go get changed. Set up the chairs for us?” You ask him, clapping your hands together out of excitement.

“Your wish is my command,” Jack says with a bow, playfully rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

You turn to open your suitcase to fish out one of the many bathing suits you brought as Jack makes his way out of the room.

“Find the sunniest spot you can! I need to make up for lost time!” you shout after him, hearing a laugh as he makes his way down the stairs.

Only 10 minutes later, you walk out of the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. You spot Jack on the dock down near the lake, putting the final touches on your sunny oasis.

You make the small trek down to him, pool bag in hand and sunglasses on your face.

“Wow, all this for me?” you announce your presence as you reach the end of the lengthy deck.

Jack had set up two tanning chairs on the end of the dock, an umbrella in-between them for when you inevitably claim you’re too hot and sweaty to sit in the sun any longer. He had a small cooler set up with waters, beer for himself, and some of your favorite fruity seltzers.

He had even found a small fan that he clipped to the arm of your chair to keep you cool while you laid out in the sun. He was fiddling with the small speaker he had under the umbrella as you approached, a country song flowing out around you.

“Only the best for my little felon,” he recalls your earlier conversation, raising up to give you his full attention.

Once his eyes fall on you, his mouth snaps shut.

You had picked your skimpiest bikini, wanting to get all of the risqué swimsuits out of the way before the two of you had company later in the summer.

The number you were currently sporting was a pale pink matching set. Two tiny triangles covered your chest, while a high-legged thong covered the rest of you.

You watched as his darkening eyes raked over your body, his tongue poking out to wet his dry lips.

“Hell, baby, you can stuff my dead body in a suitcase if you’re going to look like that while doing it,” Jack breathes out.

You laugh at his response, walking over and setting your stuff on your chair, patting his bare chest as you walk past him.

You bend over to grab your tanning lotion out of your bag when you feel a light smack on your ass cheek, straightening up to find Jack standing right behind you, his hand finding its place on your exposed hip.

“Y’know, we could skip this whole tanning thing and go make use of that big, empty house while we have the chance,” Jack lowly whispers in your ear, sliding his hand around to ghost his fingers up and down the soft skin of your belly.

You lean your head back on his shoulder at the touch, allowing yourself to enjoy it for a few more seconds before turning around in his hold and placing your hands on his freckled shoulders.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea and would absolutely love to….” You trail off, standing on your tip toes and letting your lips touch his ear as you speak. Jack gulps, closing his eyes as he feels your hand slip from its spot on his shoulder and continue to move downward, almost reaching the band of his swimming trunks when you stop.

“…..after we tan” you finish, bringing your hand back up to pat his cheek, causing his eyes to shoot open.

“Okay, not fair,” he pouts as you push him back so you can continue digging through your bag.

“You told me you’d tan with me, so tan with me you shall,” you remind him, finding the bottle of lotion and holding it out to him.

Jack fulfills your wishes and very thoroughly applies the dark lotion to your skin, only being reprimanded for wandering hands a few times.

The two of you lay out on the dock for hours, enjoying each other’s company while feeling the rays soak into your skin. You talk about Jack’s team and this past season, what the upcoming season might hold, what the plan is for when the rest of the Hughes family joins, and various other light topics.

At one point you let the soft music and warmness of the sun lull you to sleep, only waking up when Jack comes over and gently shakes your shoulders.

“Y/N, c’mon, time to go inside. You’ve been in the sun for way too long, you’re going to get burnt,” Jack softly speaks to you as you come back into consciousness.

“Mmm, don’t wanna. Too comfy. Warm. Five more minutes,” you fight him, turning your head over to face opposite him.

“Nope, not an option. Can’t let you get too fried on your first day. You won’t be able to do anything for days if we don’t go inside, Lovey,” Jack uses the nickname he stole from your own family.

You grumble in protest, but peel yourself from the chair nonetheless. You notice how much lower the sun is in the sky and wonder what time it is. You pull your phone from your bag to see you’ve been out here well into the evening.

You realize you and Jack forgot to go grocery shopping after you got here, your excitement about the sunshine causing you to forget any other chores you intended on doing today.

You grab your bag and follow Jack back up the dock, admiring the way the muscles in his back are flexed due to him carrying the still full cooler on his shoulder.

“Hey, J, what are we gonna do for dinner? We don’t have any groceries and I’m not sure if you want to go out, but-“ you’re cut off by your own stomach, the growl loud enough for the two of you to hear over the music still flowing through the speaker in Jack’s pocket.

“Yeah, looks like we’re going out, huh?” Jack laughs as your cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink than they already are from the sun.

You reach the house and help unload the cooler into the fridge before making your way up the stairs to rinse off and change.

When you step into the bathroom and undress, you’re shocked to see the extremely present tan lines already formed on your very red skin. You hadn’t noticed it outside, but your entire front half is a fiery shade of red.

You lightly press two fingers to the skin in-between your breasts and notice the two white fingerprints left behind. Your eyes widen when you realize how badly burnt you are.

You exit the bathroom to grab the after-sun lotion you packed before returning and turning the shower on, making sure you remember to lather yourself in the lotion after you’re done showering.

You peel back the curtain and step under the warm stream of water, but the feeling of the water hitting your sensitive skin causes you to cry out, trying to remove yourself from the water’s harsh sting.

Your scream of pain grabs Jack’s attention, causing him to rush up the stairs and burst into the bathroom, panic evident on his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong, are you okay?” he steps into the bathroom, looking around for the source of your scream.

“Jack, we have a problem….” You whine, pulling the curtain back to reveal the state of your skin.

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening at the angry, red color of your skin.

“Oh Lovey…”

You stand with the curtain open, shivering despite the elevated temperature of your skin. You had turned the water to cold to avoid the searing pain again, but the cold felt like small knives poking into your flesh.

“I think we got a little too excited with the tanning lotion….” You squeak out, trying to wrap your arms around yourself, but any touch to your skin felt like fire.

Jack’s eyes fill with sympathy, but also guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should have woken you up sooner. You just looked so content I didn’t want to make you go inside just yet.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I should have set a timer or something. You know how I get,” you wave off his guilt, knowing you can get a little sun-drunk sometimes.

Although, you had never let yourself get this burnt before.

You blame the New Jersey climate and its lack of warm weather for your tanning needs to prevent this from happening once you do manage to get somewhere warm and sunny.

Jack still looks at you, not sure what to do for you, but not wanting to leave you by yourself, seeing as you’re stuck standing with your arms held out a few inches from your torso to avoid any unwanted skin contact.

“I don’t know how I’m going to shower, Jack. The water burns so bad, even on cold. But I have to get this sticky lotion off of me,” you whine again, frustrated that you’re burnt so badly you can’t even wash the tacky lotion off of your body.

“I’ll go get a soft washcloth, hang on,” Jack leaves the bathroom for only a second before returning with a soft, blue cloth in his hands.

He adjusts the water temperature and holds the cloth under the lukewarm water for a moment before applying some of your body wash to it and handing it to you.

You take the cloth from his hands and attempt to wash yourself, but any movement of your limbs causes your damaged skin to pull, making you whimper out in pain.

“Okay, don’t worry baby, I got you,” Jack takes the cloth from you, stepping into the shower, standing in-between you and the water streaming out of the shower head.

“Please, be careful, J, it hurts,” you whine out, eyeing the cloth in his hand.

“I got you, Lovey, trust me,” Jack tells you as he drags the cloth over your skin so lightly you’re not even sure it’s touching you.

He continues the feather-light motion slowly, until he’s cleaned your entire body.

“I have to rinse you now, okay? It might sting, but we’ll go slow,” he turns to rinse the cloth, letting it soak with water once more after there’s no traces of soap left.

You close your eyes as he squeezes the water out of the cloth onto your arm, the sting only slightly better than before, but bearable enough you only have to have him stop once.

After he rinses all of the soap off of your body, Jack turns off the shower and finds the softest towel in the cabinet under the sink. He pats your sore skin dry, then rubs the after-sun lotion all over your body before helping you into your pajamas.

“Jack, I don’t think I can wear this, hurts too bad,” you tell him when he hands you the matching button up shirt to the shorts you’re currently wearing.

“Okay, go topless, then. Won’t hurt my feelings any,” he winks at you, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile.

Once you were as dressed as you could stand to be, Jack helps you to the bed sitting in the middle of your bedroom. Luckily your back wasn’t burnt, so he helps you into a partial sitting position, piling several pillows behind you to prop you up.

He starts to pull the blanket over you, but you stop him, knowing anything touching your skin right know would bring you to tears.

“Babe, you’re going to get cold if you don’t cover up with something. As soon as the sun sets you’ll get the chills,” he eyes the large window on the other side of the room, knowing it’ll be dark in another hour.

“Jack it hurts too bad, I can’t,” you cry out, pouting at him.

“Okay, fine. We’ll figure something out later,” he gives in, walking over to the other side of the bed and sitting down.

He turns on the tv and attempts to find something for the two of you to watch when your stomach growls again, reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten since this morning.

“Jack, I’m still hungry.”

“Do you want me to go grab something?”

“No, don’t leave me here by myself, what if my skin starts melting off?” you exasperated.

Jack laughs at you. “Your skin isn’t going to start melting, but fine. I’ll go find the take out menus and see who delivers.”

Thirty minutes later the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of your Chinese food.

Jack goes to grab the food and bring plates upstairs so the two of you can eat in your bed, knowing you don’t feel like trying to walk downstairs to the dining room table.

He sets everything out like a small buffet. You manage to sit up a little straighter and try to reach for a plate, but the movement brings a new stinging warmth to the skin of your arm.

“Jack, I can’t even reach for a plate, how am I supposed to fill said plate and feed myself,” you say, frustrated.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but he takes the plate you were reaching for and puts all of your favorites on it. He grabs a fork and moves so he’s sitting cross-legged beside you.

“Here, open up,” Jack brings a fork full of food towards your mouth, motioning for you to open your mouth as the fork gets closer to you.

You open your mouth and he shovels the food in, going back in for more food once you had chewed and swallowed the first bite.

“Are you really going to sit here and feed me that entire plate?” you ask him, slightly embarrassed that this is how your first night at the lake house is going.

“Well, yeah. You said you were hungry, right?” Jack responds, looking at you as if he thought your question was stupid.

“I am, but you don’t have to do this. You can eat your food. I’ll figure out something. I feel like a kid sitting here being fed,” you tell him, wishing you could cross your arms the way you usually do when you pout.

“Y/N, you’re sitting in front of me with no shirt on. I’m trying my hardest not to stare at your boobs right now because I feel it would be wildly inappropriate to be sporting a boner when my girlfriend is clearly in pain. I can assure you, the last thing I’m thinking about right now is you resembling a kid,” he says, seriousness lacing his tone.

You laugh at your boyfriend, causing the skin on your belly to burn slightly, but you don’t care. You love how Jack can always make you feel better about any situation, even one as embarrassing as this.

“Now, c’mon and open up. Your food is gonna get cold,” he fusses, bringing another fork full of food towards your mouth.

He feeds you an entire plate of food, then eats his own. He takes the dishes and leftovers downstairs before coming back up to take a shower of his own.

Once he’s done with his own shower, he brings the bottle of after-sun back into the bedroom and lathers your skin in it once again, hoping this will help soothe your skin a bit more before the two of you try to sleep.

He settles in the bed, and as he predicted, you’ve started violently shivering.

“Can I please put a blanket on you now? I know you said it hurts, but you’re going to shiver right out of this bed if you don’t cover up,” Jack pleads, hating to see you shaking like this.

“Yeah, we can try. But maybe just the top sheet only for now,” you tell him, still apprehensive.

He gently pulls the top sheet over your body, letting it fall right at your collar bone.

You thank him for that second coat of after-sun because you can actually bear the thin cotton on your skin this time.

“Better?” he asks, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from you.

“Better. Thank you, Jack,” you tell him, causing him to relax a bit.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he shrugs it off, moving to get himself settled on his side of the bed.

“No, I mean it. I’m sorry I let myself ruin our first night here. I just got too eager, I guess. Forgot I haven’t laid out in a while.”

“It’s okay. Really. It’s partially my fault, too. For letting you sleep for so long without making you move under the umbrella with me,” he turns the light off, sliding down next to you, but not touching your skin.

“Well, I promise, I’m wearing sunscreen and sunscreen only for the rest of the summer,” you swear to him, moving your hand to loop your pinky through his, not being able to handle not touching him.

“I mean, I’m all for it, babe, but I don’t know how my parents and brothers will feel about that,” Jack quips back. You can hear the amused smile on his face, even though the room is pitch black.

“Goodnight, Jack.” Is all you say, rolling your eyes and smiling even though you know he can’t see you.

Jack lets out a laugh, squeezing your pinky.

Your skin may be on fire due to your love of sun soaking, but your heart has been sunburnt for years; Jack’s own personal sunshine setting it on fire every second you’re together.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Hidden Heir

Next ->

The Duke's family had very distinct eyes. It was genetic. An aggressively dominant trait at that, though it tended to die off, after a few generations out of the family. Supposedly a "blessing of the Gods". Spring to be exact. Bounty and luck. And the family certainly WAS bountiful.

In all the best and worst ways.

Wealth, corruption, children and bastards. It was a family so aggressively ALIVE, it could only be Spring's blessing that made them so. Pouring mania and madness into their veins like sweet sunlight. Whispering glory and riches, into power addled ears. They burst with life. Even as they endlessly destroyed themselves.

They were fictional.

Fascinating set dressings, for the stage play of someone else's story. Unimportant beyond their role in world building. As the origin story and power base of a character lead.

The Story ITSELF didn't even occur here. But rather, in the capital. Where the players of significance had gathered.

And I? Oh I was some minor antagonist, so insignificant to the plot, I genuinely could not remember which of seven different women I actually WAS. It had been an ongoing series. Otome Isekai. Reverse harem.

And I was either in the ORIGINAL original novel, the isekai'd plot novel, the anime adaption, OR a horrifying fever dream. My memory was largely useless. But? I did remember the characters. The archetypes.

And the fact, that the author had clearly been going though a Yandere phase.

My region of the Reverse Harem collect-o-thon? Horrifying! Red flags everywhere! No one here should date, leave room for fantasy Jesus, have we considered the joys of being a NUN? Yes. Yes I HAVE thought about it.

I was pretty sure I'd never make it. End up dead or captured by some sort of Nun Yandere. Or God Yandere. Possibly both. Assuming the bandit yanderes don't get me first. It... it was very stressful, living here.

Luckily? I knew when I could leave.

Or so I thought.

Because my house? The Dukedom? Had the "yandere butler who is secretly an heir." Who starts out with loyal dog behavior. A little highly possesive master and servant play. Then rises to become a Duke. Presumably? That is when I die. Or am disowned.

Death is most likely. Since my role was "minor antagonist" and I was to be mean to the sweet, earnest, Harem possessing Protagonist. Don't see WHY I would. Live and let live. Good for her etc etc. But regardless? Best to avoid, just in case.

The problem? Who do you think Mr Illegitimate Heir serves before she gets here? The OTHER possible heirs? Of course not! They'd "oops! Hunting accident~☆" him in a heart beat. Father isn't stupid. And my sisters? Issues. Violent, violent, issues.

He ends up with ME.

Father, WHY.

Obviously, I ignore him. I see nothing. I hear nothing. There is no war in Ba Sing Se. Mmmmm, tea. Good book. Ignore his creepy staring. His creepy, creepy staring.

Thankfully? I never really ran out of Totally Legitimate reasons to send him away to learn or do something. Proper tea making. Door maintenance. Eastern embroidery. Something, anything, and off you go! Bye bye~☆!

Unfortunately. He got faster. Better and better at learning. Mastering skills. Coming BACK. Showing up to stand in the corner, silent and looming, like an omen of death. Those damn eyes. The fucking family eyes!

I don't have them. And NOT as, my Father would have me believe, because I "take after my Mother". But because I am not genetically related to the Duke. I have GOLD eyes. When I wear the right shade of green? I pass. So I am condemned to forever wear green. Don't even really like it much. But?

I am pretty damn sure? I was just... pretty.

A lovely, orphaned, golden eyed child that COULD pass as his. So why not? It was a whim that payed off. Unlike in the original stories, I imagine. Since I am by FAR the best behaved child in this entire house. Ha! Suck it, bio-kids, the adopted one's the favorite! Maybe should have been less lil bitchs.

....I carefully do not say.

Those are INSIDE thoughts.

Fuck. He's still LOOMING. Isn't he? Go awaaaaaay. Where is Protag-chan? Come be doe eyed and busty! Trip adorably! Go "kyaaa~" or something! I feel body heat and freeze. He's leaning over my shoulder to pick up the teapot, pour me another cup. I can FEEL the barest graze of his knuckles against my back, from where he's gripped my chair. The smell of his aftershave almost hauntingly pleasant.

Like he KNEW exactly what smells I liked most. Went out of his way to find one that best suited my preference. Coincidence. Please, PLEASE be a coincidence! I do not turn my head. Keep my eyes locked straight ahead. Barely breathing.

He steps back.

The new pot is sharp and herbal. Almost bitter. I force myself to drink. Can't see a sugar dish, and REFUSE to turn around and ask for one. Ignore. IGNORE. My pounding heart calms. My muscles slowly start to relax.

It... it IS weird, though, now that I think about it? That Protag-chan hasn't reached the Dukedom yet. She should have. God only knows I sent Creepy to the capital enough times, with enough highly specific instructions, that he should've had his meet cute's and dates by the dozen. Been half way in love. So... why...?

Huh.

Dizzy.

The taste of tea sits wrong on my tounge. I stop drinking as the world sways. Letting the cup fall from my hand. Splatter, roll, and shatter. I try desperately to stand. A gentle gloved hand catches my elbow, supporting me. I turn. Giddy eyes. Triumphant, wide, spring green eyes. Too green to be gold, too gold to be green.

An almost cruel, mocking, yet loving grin.

Another hand slides around my waist, braces me against his side. Gleeful little murmurs, too pleased to be reassuring. You. You did this! You DRUGGED ME!

I can barely move, body relaxing against my command, going limp, as he draws me close. Presses his face against the side of my head, against my temple. A deep, shuddering breathe, that he savors like wine. I try to pull free but can not. Feel his lips pull into a vicious grin against my skin. Hands begin to run in gentle, claiming, exploration.

And at last the drugs kick in... the wo..rld..

G..oes..

Dar..k........

[borathae]

"Taehyung shows you a spell which makes your strap function like real cock, then asks you to fuck him with it and he knows exactly how he wants it to happen. He's going to be the one getting pounded, but he'll drive you fucking crazy in process."

❖ Requested by all of you through a poll ❖

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Magic!AU, Smut

Warnings: this is nasty porn besties, Dom!Taehyung who takes the dick, whiney sub!Reader, sex magic, her strap functions and looks like real cock, i'll also only refer to her strap as her cock/dick, and i'll use gender neutral nicknames, so i think that male readers can have a blast with this one as well <3, in some way this is a first time for her, blowjob, deep throating, snowballing, cum eating, handjob, frotting, multiple orgasms for both, anal sex (Tae receiving), hole stretching with cock, cowboy position, praise, dirty talk, Tae calls himself her "bitch", strength kink, he pins her down by her wrists, bro he needs to leave me alone fr, the biggest cum kink, a lil bit of spit kink too, scent kink, subby tears of pleasure, creampies, belly bulging, cum leaking, squirting, i'm telling you this is the cum kink story, once again this is so filthy and nasty, this is both gentle but also rough fucking, they're both done afterwards, loving aftercare, they're kinky and in love

Wordcount: 8.1k

a/n: just a reminder that you guys chose this story for his bday. you brought this upon yourselves 😩 enjoy besties ❤

“How does it feel?”

“I can’t tell a difference. I guess heavier?” you shift from one leg to the other, looking down at your own crotch, “I can feel that there’s something between my legs. It’s tangling.”

“It’s nice, is it not?”

“It’s….it’s different.”

You look up, expecting to meet his eyes, but you don’t. He is mesmerised by your cock and how it sits so heavily between your legs.

It was hard once, made out of silicone with no possible chance of softening. And then you spoke the magic words. The words he showed you and practiced with you until they finally worked. And oh how they worked. Your once hard, unmoving silicone dick softened and melted with your body until it was part of you. Now made out of flesh and with feeling in it. The colour doesn’t quite match your skin tone because the dildo was a few shades warmer than your real skin, but it somehow makes it look even sexier. Part of you for one night, so perfectly in place even if it was once impossible to fit. It is so wonderfully arousing to Taehyung.

“Darling?”

“Mhm?” he lifts his head and with it, his eyes.

“You stared.”

“Because I want you”, he says and draws closer. His big hand comes to touch your waist, his eyes race over your features obsessively. His pupils are dilated, “how is it for you? Truthfully.”

“Weird?” you say and chuckle shyly, “I can’t decide yet. I feel a weight between my legs, it’s tugging down a little. I never felt like this before.”

He lowers his lids playfully, whispering his next words.

“Shall I take the weight off of you?”

Your stomach tingles, your hands come to touch his bared chest. Clothes aren’t necessary anymore. You had to undress for the spell naturally and Taehyung never wore more than just some jockstraps. Not to forget the golden necklaces around his neck and the emerald earrings adorning his ears. He looks so sexy and his words make you want him even more.

“Mhm darling? I can do it for you, carry the heavy burden in your stead”, he offers, drawing tingling circles on your waist with just his fingertips.

“How would you do it?” you ask for the sole reason of wanting him to show you.

“Can I show you?” he asks, looking deep into your eyes.

“Yes”, you allow him, feeling mesmerized by him.

The deep connection remains as Taehyung lets his right hand glide down your body until he can let it disappear between your legs. He cups your heavy balls and soft cock. His hand is so big that all of it fits inside his palm.

Warmth.

You let out a shaky gasp, closing your fingers on his chest in a needy grasp. You can actually feel his touch. It is right there, between your legs, cradling what once wasn’t part of you, but what now feels so achingly needy for more.

Taehyung bounces your heaviness in his palm gently.

“Like this”, he whispers.

“Tae, this is…oh god…”

He needs to hold back right now. He dreamt of holding your cock ever since your magic was discovered. It is difficult to go slow right now because all he craves is to fuck you senseless. But he knows better. He knows that this is new to you, that you never experienced such sensations before and that every step taken too quickly could be overwhelming for you.

So he cradles you, bouncing you in his safe hand while his left hand caresses your waist. You keep tensing your abs. He feels them tighten under his thumb each time he brushes it over them.

“Does this lessen the weight?” he asks in a whisper.

“Fuck, it just make it worse”, you breathe out as you speak, resulting in your words to swirl over his skin. Your breath smells minty. Taehyung matches with you.

“It does? Where is it worst?” he asks and opens his palm to reveal your cock to him. He keeps his hand under it, carrying it safely so he could trace it with his left hand. His fingertips brush over your balls first, outlining them, “there?”

You throb softly, growing just a little in his palm.

“Tae, this is…” you get out and exhale shakily, looking down. There is so much heat rushing to your groin. You genuinely never felt so much fucking heat between your legs. It’s insane and it’s somehow getting more and more, the longer he is tracing your cock.

“Or is it there?” he asks, dancing his finger up your shaft.

More warmth. So much warmth. How easy is it to get so heated up? Why is it so easy? He barely did anything and you already feel like burning up. 

“Or maybe there?” he asks and presses his finger against your tip to draw circles on it.

“Woah”, you gasp, flinching away from him so harshly you actually slip out of his hold.

He stares. You stare. The heat between your legs throbs. It throbs so bad that it is almost painful. With every throb the weight seems to grow and at the same time get less. The tug downwards decreases while the heaviness of your balls somehow gets more. It is so impossible to describe.

You look down. You are hard. The view is familiar to you because you had a lot of hard dick in front of you already, but tonight is different. Tonight it is truly connected to you. Your skin blends into that of your erection and you know for a fucking fact that the blood you feel throbbing inside it, is your very own.

“Taehyung, this is fucking insane”, you let out, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know and it is so bloody arousing”, he says and closes the distance between you and him until he can trap your hard cock between your bodies. You feel how he bends it up and how it gets squished between your tummy and his crotch. His clothed cock presses against your bared one, sharing warmth. The fabric of his jockstrap is soft and rough at the same time.

“Wait Tae, wait”, you try to flee again because this is actual insanity, but Taehyung doesn’t let you. He keeps you pinned to him with his hands on your hips, silencing your worrying by kissing your neck. You heart flutters, but you barely feel it because all you can concentrate on is the heavy throbbing between your legs each time his lips touch your skin.

“Holy fuck Tae, please just”, you gasp and tremble, pushing at his chest softly, “just give me a second, please.”

“I am”, he promises you and takes a step back, “talk to me”, he says, holding your hands. He caresses your knuckles with his thumb, looking at you with adorning eyes.

“I”, you squeak out and stumble back, “I need to just take a moment. This is a lot. Holy fuck.”

“Hey, I’m here, hey”, he gasps and holds your hands tighter to prevent you from falling, “sit down, it’s safer to sit”, he offers and lifts you atop his bed. It is a very high bed and because he sat you down quite far up the mattress, it results in your feet tangling in the air. He gets between your legs, towering over you just enough that you have to tilt your head to make eye contact.

“Talk to me. Is it not your taste?” he asks, caressing your upper arms slowly. His eyes race between yours, looking so utterly attentive.

“It’s just….a lot. I don’t know. I feel so fucking hot between my legs. Is that normal? What if the spell didn’t work correctly? I feel every throb, Tae. It’s so hot”, you say with serious eyes.

Taehyung’s gaze softens. He chuckles fondly.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious, Tae.”

“I know, gosh I know. Please forgive me”, he says between giggles, cupping your cheeks to caress them gently, “it is just that…my darling, this is how an erection feels like. You are simply horny.”

“But…but it’s so hot. Like, so hot.”

“I am aware.”

“That’s normal?”

He nods his head.

“You feel like this every time you get horny?”

“Yes.”

“Tae.”

“Why?”

“This is awful, oh my god, I might actually burst.”

Taehyung laughs, scrunching his nose up as he does.

“Don’t laugh, I’m actually suffering.”

“Please forgive me, but you are just so adorable”, he says.

You huff out air, frowning at him with a pout. His gaze softens, his hands brush down your arms soothingly.

“I can make it better”, he offers.

“You can?” you whisper, feeling flutters in your stomach.

“I can”, he breathes and brushes his fingers over your cockhead. Just a feather light touch, but it still felt intense to you.

You moan, rolling your hips up to chase him. Another touch never comes, even more intense heat remains.

“Just tell me that you want to continue this and I will”, he adds.

“I do”, you say and add a word you never meant more than right now, “please.”

His lips curl into a proud smirk, his eyes lower playfully.

“Get on the bed, rest back against it”, he orders.

You follow instantly, pulling your legs up on the mattress so you can move to the middle of the bed and rest back into the heap of soft pillows. They engulf you, allowing you to be comfortable and still sit up enough that you have a view of your lower body. Taehyung joins you on the bed, kneeling down next to you.

He guides his hand down your torso, tracing your inner thigh next. You throb, sneaking a glance at him to see if he also noticed. He meets your eyes.

“Needy?” he asks.

“Did you see that?”

“I did.”

“Tae, it’s”, you shift impatiently, “it’s so hot.”

“I know darling, I know”, he says and wraps his fingers around the base of your cock, “and so heavy as well. Darling, you are so heavy in my hand.”

“Don’t tease me. Please”, you wanted to order him, but it only comes out as a beg. Of course it does. You are so madly horny right now. 

Taehyung was the one to introduce you to the idea of experimenting with sex spells. For now, you have already perfected a spell which enchants ropes to make it impossible for even vampires to break through them. Another spell controls his orgasms and make it impossible for him to climax without your magical allowance. Your newest spell is this one right here and it is definitely messing with your sanity the most. You are so horny that you can barely even think. 

“Please…”

“Please what, darling?” Taehyung teases, tickling your inner thigh gently. 

“Do something please.” 

“Something? Like this?” he asks and lowers himself to your cock, flicking his tongue over your tip gently.

You flinch again.

“Holy fuck.”

“How was that?”

“Wet. Holy fuck.”

“Yes, tongues tend to be wet”, he is teasing. Of course he is. 

“Tae, please”, you whine, wiggling your legs, “I can’t take your attitude right now. Please.”

He chuckles, “adorable”, he whispers before swirling his tongue over your tip. Once. Twice. 

“Tae, oh god. This is insane, seriously.”

“You taste so good, darling”, he whispers.

“I can feel every fucking word you speak. Holy fuck.”

“You’re so needy. It’s adorable.”

“Tae. Holy fuck.”

He chuckles, wrapping his lips around you.He takes only your tip inside and gives it one suck, then lets it go with a bop of his lips. He rubs them against your tip, giving you small licks.

“Holy fuck”, you gasp, bucking your hips in sync with your fingers tangling in his hair.

Taehyung moves his head with it, preventing your cock from slipping into his mouth. He chuckles. The vibrations force you to squeeze your eyes shut in a full face scrunch.

“Tae, what the fuck. What the…actual..f-fuck.”

He slips off of you again, laughing deeply.

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Oh god…”

“You are adorable”, he says fondly and climbs between your legs. He lies down on his tummy, draping his arms over your thighs so he could support himself on his elbows and then he takes your cock between his fingers again. He moves closer, connecting his lips with your balls by nuzzling his entire lower face between your legs. He purrs deliciously, breathing in your sensual musk as his hungry lips suck on the sensitive skin of your balls.

“Holy fuck.”

You try to say something else. Seriously, you do. But you can’t think of any other words. He barely hasn’t done anything yet and you are already too dumb to speak.

His purrs vibrate against your skin. It feels electric and goes so deep, you swear you can feel it in your bones. His lips are soft and wet from his drool. His tongue is even wetter and feels ten degrees hotter on your skin. This is impossible to handle and so you squeeze your thighs around his head, grasping his lower arms in a desperate plea for help.

“Mhhm darling”, Taehyung comes up for air, “you smell like sex. Truly, I want to devour you.”

“Taeee”, you whine, pulling a face of devastation. 

He moans hungrily, dragging his lips up the thick vein on the underside of your cock until he has your frenulum under them. He purrs, opening his mouth to stick out his tongue and grind the flat of it against it.

“Tae”, you whimper, grabbing strands of his ebony hair. You know how his tongue feels. You know how wet and hot it is against your bundle of nerves and yet the knowledge still doesn’t make it easier right now. You should know how good he feels, but you still can’t believe this is happening. This feels so much different than on other nights. This starts off on your tip like fire and crawls down your entire length until it spreads through your legs.  

Taehyung loves how your thighs shake under his arms and how hard you tug on his hair. His scalp stings, motivating him to ruin you even more. You should know how it is to be sucked off. You deserve it. You deserve to have your balls worshipped until they are dripping in saliva, you deserve to have your frenulum licked until it is swollen and you deserve to have your every inch fucked by tight throat until you are throbbing painfully. Taehyung wants to make sure that you experience everything because everything is what you deserve.

He sticks out his tongue further and opens up farther, letting your cock sink into his mouth. He moans as he swallows you, basking in the high-pitched squeaks you let out. You begin chanting in whispers.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.”

Deeper. Your chants grow in pitch, as they do in volume, the tension on his hair increases. Taehyung moans. His lips meet your groin, his throat bulges from your cock.

“Oh g-god Tae”, you yelp and thrust your hips up as the unfamiliar sensation throws you over the edge.

Taehyung knew that it would happen. Of course it would. Your pretty virgin cock was never sucked off before, let alone was allowed to rest snug in a tight throat. Of course you would climax instantly. He moans deeper just to make it more intense for you, keeping your writhing body down with minimal effort. You might rip his hair out if you continue tugging, but he doesn’t mind. The pain is goddamn glorious to experience.

“Tae!” you can’t stop almost screaming his name, arching your back over and over as fiery pleasure throbs in your cock. Your tip feels on fire, your shaft is charged in painful electricity and your balls are convulsing so tightly that they hurt. Your legs are also useless, weak sticks of shaking muscles right now. This orgasm wasn’t planned, it wasn’t expected and it makes it feel all the more unbearable.

Taehyung slips off your cock the moment it begins to die down. Of course he would know when to stop. He gives you no time to catch your breath as he places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a tongue kiss. You can’t reciprocate it at first, gurgling desperately as he fills your mouth with your own cum. It tastes slightly salty with a faint bitter note at the back of your throat. This isn’t how he tastes when he normally kisses you after head. This is more intense and leaves you feeling droopy. Taehyung licks into your mouth, scooping out the cum he fed you just so he can swallow it with needy moans. He can’t catch everything, resulting in your chins to get messy and sticky as you desperately try to kiss him back.

It gets easy until it suddenly doesn’t because he decides to wrap his hand around your cock and jerk you off quickly. You bite down on his lip to the point where you feel it break. His spit burns on your tongue as his blood mixes with it. He breaks away, looking at you with slightly panicky eyes.

“You bit me”, he whispers. His lips is already healed again, but the knowledge of what he just fed you remains. Will you end it now?

“Tae”, you beg and pull him back into a kiss.

He purrs, deepening his grip on your head in sync with his hand speeding up around your cock. He feels dizzy at the realisation that you don’t care about the mishap. He meets your tongue and twists his fist around your cockhead.

And the kiss breaks again. Of course it does.

“Oh god”, you whimper, sitting up straight because the sensation overwhelms you.

“How is that?” he asks.

“It hurts.”

“Hurts? Need me to stop?”

You shake your head, “sensitive”, you squeak and sob softly, “Tae please.”

“You’re okay. I know your cock is sensitive. Of course it is. Your pretty untouched cock can barely handle it, but it’s okay. I know what I’m doing”, he talks you through the handjob, keeping you with him with his hand on the back of your head. The only way you could look away is by closing your eyes, but you don’t want to. You want to keep looking up at him as he jerks you off. It feels so good. You are so sensitive from your surprise orgasm that it hurts so fucking bad and yet you don’t want it to stop because there are electric tingles deep, deep down you crave to have at the very surface of your cock.

“Do you feel it? Mhm? Can you feel how good I can handle cock?” he taunts and digs the pad of his thumb into your weeping slit. A stinging stretch radiates from it, pressure so intense you wonder if he is bursting your urinary tract is shooting all the way down to your balls.

You widen your eyes, squeaking for help. He gives it to you gently. Lovingly. Softly. He slips his thumb out of your slit again, massaging it in circular motions until the sting ceases to exist.

“That’s better, right?” he speaks deeply, caressing the nape of your neck with his thumb.

“Tae”, you spill tears, grasping his pecs desperately, “it feels so good.”

“I know it does. Of course it does. You’ve got such a sensitive little cock.”

“Sensitive”, you agree, squeaking helplessly as he begins twisting his hand around your cockhead again. You writhe on the sheets, trying to lie down but he keeps you with him. He tightens his grip on your head, giving you a warning flicker of his eyes.

“So sensitive, I know. So, so sensitive”, his voice is sweet even when his grip is rough, “it will pass. Trust me, it will pass.”

“I, I think I h-have to pee”, you stutter.

“That’s okay. Just let it out if you need to”, he reassures you, “leaking cocks are my favourite.”

“Tae please stop.”

He slows down his hand, cupping your balls instead to play with them.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry”, you stutter as you try to catch your breath.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well, I’m so proud of you”, he soothes you, cradling your cheek in his big hand, “I’m sorry, I know I was a little rough right now. Especially after your first ever orgasm, I know this must have been a lot right now.”

“Yeah, sorry”, you hiccup and shudder, “Tae, kisses please.”

He smiles fondly and pulls you into a kiss. A gentle one for a change. It tastes of love and adoration. His lips guide yours in slow movements, his tongue caresses yours in a tender dance.

Now without support at the back of your head, your body finally gives up on you. You fall back into the pillows, dragging Taehyung right with you. He doesn’t break the kiss, lifting and moving your body until you can comfortable lie on your back and he can rest on top of you. He is between your legs, pressing his clothed crotch against yours.

He doesn’t like that he does. The fabric is too thick of a barrier. He reaches down with one hand and rips the small piece of clothing off his body, throwing it on the floor mindlessly. His cock, hard and wet from slick comes into contact with yours. He rolls his hips slowly, grinding it against yours repeatedly.

The kiss breaks again, just like it has happened with every new sensation he lets you experience. Taehyung isn’t angry that it does, on the contrary he loves it because he can take in the utter look of shock on your face and the intense look of pleasure following right after.

“Can you feel that?” he asks slightly out of breath.

You nod your head, dimpling his shoulders from grabbing them so tightly.

“I’m so hard for you, darling. Feel it”, he whispers and angles his hips so he could grind his cockhead against your frenulum.

“Tae”, you whimper and spill tears.

“Our cocks are melting, darling. We’re so close this way.”

“Tae…”

You squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back. He is so wet. His tip is so soft. The way he is grinding on you feels so incredibly good.

“It feels wonderful for me”, he whispers, “darling, we’re so close. So immensely close”, he adds and deepens the connection by wrapping his long fingers around both your cocks. He presses them together, pumping them in a slow rhythm. It not only gives you the sensation of a handjob, but also grinds your cocks together. The combination of both sensations is unbearable to you. You reach down, grabbing his wrist desperately.

“Please Tae”, you beg shakily.

He slows down gradually until he stops completely. He keeps a hold on your cocks, cradling your pressed together tips in his palm.

“Too much again?”

“I’m so sensitive. I’m sorry”, you get out, whimpering in embarrassment.

“It’s okay. I’m so proud of you”, he calms you down, wiping your tears and kissing your forehead, “I think we are done with foreplay, mhm?”

“Foreplay?”

“Mhm yes”, he smiles against your forehead, “I can’t have you climaxing too many times already. One was enough. The next I want to take up my ass.”

“Oh god”, you croak, writhing on the sheets. It shifts your cock in his hand, sending electricity through your legs. Holy shit, his cock is so close to yours. The grinding is already mind-blowing, but the knowledge of how close he is, drives you even deeper into ruin, “oh god, Tae.”

“Is this something you want to give me, darling?”

You nod your head vigorously.

“You do?”

“Y-yes.”

“Yes? So I can quickly get the lube to make it easier for me?”

You nod your head.

“I love you”, he whispers and kisses your lips, “oh, I want to worship you.”

He leaves you alone on the bed for nothing but a few seconds, returning to you just as your arms have found enough strength to sit yourself up. You look at your own cock and how incredibly hard it is between your legs. It is glistening wet, aching to be touched again.

Taehyung climbs onto your lap, stealing a giggly kiss from you before sitting up. The bottle of lube is between his fingers, he is smiling down at you.

“Are you ready?”

“You didn’t stretch.”

“I’ll manage.”

“But…won’t it hurt?”

“Trust me”, he assures you and lifts his hips so he could shimmy right above your cock. He spreads a thick layer of lube all over your cock, using the access to circle his hole with it. You can’t stop staring, breathing quickly because he keeps stealing your breath. He is seconds away from taking your cock unprepared and there is no ounce of nervousness on his features. He meets your eyes, giving you a sweet smile.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“A little.”

“Don’t be. It will feel so good”, he says and sinks down.

“Holy. Fuck”, you gasp, sitting up in shock.

Taehyung pushes you down again, smiling at you with sparkling eyes.

“Holyfuck”, you get out, arching your back even if he is holding you down.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yes”, you whimper and grab his wrists. You bottom out, curling your toes as your back once again leaves the sheets. Your eyes roll back and close sensually, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah, right”, he agrees and begins shifting his hips on you back and forth. Slowly because he knows how sensitive virgin dick can be. 

“Tae! Ah.”

“I know. This is amazing, isn’t it?”

“I’m gonna cum, ah.”

“If you have to, do it. I won’t stop afterwards however”, he says.

“Please stop, please stop for a moment, please”, you beg, bruising his thighs as you try to stop him this way.

Taehyung stills his movements, caressing the sides of your neck to soothe you. Your pulse is racing under his fingertips.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“It’s so much”, you croak and peel your eyes open. You gulp, pulling a face of devastation, “I can feel it. Tae, I can feel your ass.” 

“I know”, he says, wiggling just a little to shift your cock in him. He loves the sensation because it gives his hole the possibility of getting used to the stretch.

“I wanted to feel this for years”, you confess with trembling lips as the emotions begin to overwhelm you, “this was a dream of mine. Tae, I-”, your voice cuts off because you have to whimper.

“I know, oh I know”, he wipes the trembles away by cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips. He smiles into the kiss, smiling brighter when he feels your lips curl into a smile as well. 

“I’m so happy”, you whisper shakily into the kiss, grasping the nape of his neck to keep him close.

“I’m happy too, my darling”, he whispers and moans gently, “I feel so stuffed with you. You’re so big.”

“Oh god, Tae this is driving me insane. I can feel you clench. Holy fuck, you’re so hot inside.”

“I’m burning for you”, he rasps and rocks back and forth.

“Tae”, you squeak out quietly.

“Does this feel nice for you?”

“Ye-yeah”, your voice trembles as you speak because all of this is just a little overwhelming to handle.

“It feels nice for me as well”, he sighs and sits up. Your fingers glide from his neck, lying weakly on the pillow. He places his hands on your tummy, using the support to rock back and forth. 

Your eyes close in a roll again, your lips part in needy moans. You grip his thighs, dimpling them desperately. His name is the only word you get out between all your sounds. It tastes saccharine on your tongue.

“I’m so stuffed. Oh so stuffed”, he sighs, lowering his eyes sensually. Taking it slow. This is what he is doing. You need it. He needs it as well. Taehyung took cock without preparation many times before. He also took cocks way bigger than yours, so he is used to a way more painful stretch than he feels right now. It is still very nice to get used to being opened up with slow movements. Because he isn’t bouncing on you, it also means that he is constantly stretching himself. He loves it so much that his toes curl each time he feels your length graze against his prostate.

But enough about him. You are barely holding on. It is already way too arousing to fuck his ass on normal days. You always imagined it to feel warm, but that was wrong. It is burning hot and so tight that it feels as if his ass was jerking you off. His unstretched rim squeezes around your base, forcing your cock to stay so much harder. His walls are so soft and wet. You already thought that his mouth was soft, but this is taking the fucking crown. 

“I think I can’t hold back”, you gasp out, writhing on the sheets.

“It’s alright. Don’t hold back”, he encourages you, staring at your face with obsession in his eyes. You are so beautiful when pleasure controls you. He can’t get enough of you.

“Tae, too much”, you whimper.

“I know, so sensitive. It’s alright, fill my ass with your climax, darling. I’m made for it.” 

“Tae ah god”, you gasp and tense up. It starts off in your tip and shoots down your shaft before it forces your balls to tense and begin throbbing. You feel it squirting out of you. It feels so good. Like one big relief of a fiery burden. His insides get wet and sticky. Hotter as well. Of course he does, you’re climaxing so fucking hot. Of course you warm him up with it. All of it just makes you climax that much harder.

“Yes. Fill me up. Ah darling”, Taehyung growls, rocking his hips on you needily, “give me everything, ah”, he moans and chases it with bounces on your cock. The feeling of being marked as yours is what finally set him off. Your cum sticking to his walls is what makes it impossible to behave any longer. 

He drags his hips up and drops down on you, forcing a guttural grunt out of you. You try to sit up again, grabbing his waist and staring up at him with widened eyes. The utter shock is obvious in them.

He pushes you back into the sheets, smiling down at you with mischief in his eyes. He lifts his hips, drops them, repeats it. Over and over until you realise he is getting used to a rhythm and you have to get used to it with him.

It burns. Your cock is genuinely only staying hard because his tight rim is forcing it to. You claw at his waist, breaking skin but it’s the only way to handle the overstimulation.

You try to say his name but it only comes out as a gurgled, “-ae nngn.” 

“Breathe. That’s what I always do. Breathe.” 

You try to do what he says. It does help a little. Your legs still stay useless however, shaking against your will as he picks up speed gradually. The overstimulation hurts so much more than on other days. You want to flee from it as much as you chase it with weak movements.

“Breathe. Keep breathing. Just keep fucking breathing”, Taehyung lulls and circles his hips as he sinks down. 

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, you get out, writhing helplessly because he just doesn’t stop. He continues dancing his hips on you, keeping your cock so, so hard for him, “please oh god”, you beg him, sitting up again because your body reacts like this instinctively.

Taehyung stops you with a strong hold around your wrists. He pushes you back down and pins your wrists down into the ruffled sheets just a little above your head, putting some of his weight on them.

“Stop sitting up, I’m not done with this”, he tells you and slams his hips down on you. Skin slaps against skin. Your cock gets fucked so hard by his tight ass. 

“Tae”, you gasp loudly, writhing in his strong hold in an attempt to flee him. This is too much. You can’t stop fucking leaking and his ass is so fucking tight that each time you bottom out, your cock feels like it might burst from the squeeze.

“Don’t flee this”, he speaks calmly. As if he wasn’t in the process of ruining you, “take it. I know you can do it.”

“Holy fuck, argh”, you arch your back, throw your head back, gasp for fucking air.

Taehyung watches with blown-out pupils as your mouth opens and your tongue curls back in a tortured moan. He slides his hands to your palms and intertwines his fingers with you. You squeeze him back instantly, shaking and trembling whilst at the same time using so much strength that it borders painful.

“Yes that’s better. Hold my hands”, he growls and speeds up.

“Tae please”, you yelp, hitting your head on the sheets repeatedly as you try to take the ride he gives you. Holy fuck your cock is burning up. It hurts so much and yet you don’t want it to stop, “ple-please”, you sob, contorting your face in agony.

“I’m not done, darling. I’m not done”, Taehyung tells you, “I want to use you like a perfect fucking sexdoll.”

“Fuck. Oh fuck, oh god fuck. Ah fuck”, you chant, barely registering his words because all that consumes you is the burning of your cock and the never ending pleasure coursing through your body. Your legs are jello, your muscles can’t work except for uncontrollable shaking he forces out of them each time he slams his bubble butt down on you.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You try to. You really, really do but you can’t. He knocks the air out of you. Just as he squeezes even the last droplet of desperation from your burning cock.

“Breathe darling, breathe”, he growls and squeezes his hole on you. He moans deeply, basking in your high-pitched mewl of pained pleasure, “your cock is so big. My hole’s so fucking stuffed with you.”

“I can’t”, you croak and sob, arching your back as he forces uncontrollable shakes out of you, “Tae I’m fucking serious, I can’t do this anymore”, you sob, rolling your hips up desperately.

Taehyung doesn’t look at you. Taehyung keeps his head thrown back and rolls his hips as he takes your cock as deep as he can. He aches for you to go so much deeper than you do. He wants to feel it poke the furthest walls of his intestines, wants it truly filling him out.  

“Colour?” he asks you.

“I don’t know anymore”, you get out, writhing under him. You are blurry. Everything is dizzy. Your brain can’t speak. Your eyes can’t hear.

Taehyung rolls his head to front and stops his hips. He cradles your cheeks, wiping away the heavy streak of tears. The touch brings comfort, calming down some of the shaking.

“Look at me”, he says softly.

You peel your eyes open. He is blurry in your vision. A glowing aura surrounds him because you see him double. Or maybe it is because is currently your fucking god. The one who controls your body and whose name you only know how to speak. You grab his wrists, whimpering his name so weakly that it only comes out as squeaks.

“Do you want to stop this?” he asks and traces your lips. They are wet from drool. He smears it all over your skin as he goes to caress your cheek again. Neither of your care.

“Tae”, you whimper and reach for him. You hook your fingers behind his neck and pull him down.

He slams his hand into the pillow beside your head in the last moment, smiling fondly as he gets your tongue wiggling its way over his lower face as you try to kiss him. He chuckles and shows your tongue its destiny by sucking it between his lips and therefore engaging you in a sloppy tongue kiss. You whimper and mewl, pulling him closer, closer, closer. He lets you, kissing you back and sharing way too much fucking saliva with you. He loves it, moaning into you and getting your moans in return.

He keeps his hips still at first. It is clear that all you need is a kiss, that you don’t want to end this yet but you still couldn’t take another bounce. He knows that feeling. He knows how it is to be ridden into a state of complete uselessness and how addicting it is. He knows how hard it is to truly want to stop this because despite the agonizing burn of your cock, the fuck is just way too good to stop it. And he knows that despite all of this obsessive, sick desire your body is weaker than the spirit, that breaks are necessary even if you don’t want them. Taehyung knows those feelings. He knows exactly in what kind of state you find yourself in right now and because he does, he also knows exactly when he is allowed to start moving again.

When you twist his hair with both hands, when your hips wiggle under him and your moans become so much more desperate than before. Taehyung knows and he is there to give it to you so hard.

He starts off slowly, drawing circles with his hips until you notice what is happening and break the kiss to gasp. You share the same air, staring at each other with droopy eyes. At least you do, Taehyung is having a piercing gaze on you, pinning you down with dark siren eyes.

“I’m so stuffed with cock”, he rasps and takes your right hand to put it on his stomach. He presses down, letting you feel how the pressure squishes your cum around. His stomach grumbles and gurgles as your fingers squeeze your cum down and your cock fucks it into him again, “and your cum”, he adds in a breathy moan, “I’m so filled with your cum that it gets hard to keep inside. Do you feel it?”

This is too much. It is already a lot to have him ride your burning cock, but to feel how stuffed with cum he is, is too much.

“Again”, you get out and roll your eyes back without truly bothering to close them. It already feel intense, but what truly makes it unbearable is the fact that Taehyung squeezes your hand closer to his stomach and therefore makes you feel how your cum shoots up his intestines. Maybe this is why it burned so much. Maybe this is why you were so breathless. Because he has been dragging an orgasm to the surface. Again. Again. Again. How many times? How many times is he going to circle and roll his hips as your cock shoots up his tight ass? You can’t find an answer but you know that it doesn’t get easier to bear. On the contrary. Your first orgasm down his throat was short and fiery, your second up his ass was warm and dragged out, this one is intense and fucking addicting. You should want him to stop because your cock is begging you for a break, but you don’t want to. It hurts and you want fucking more, moaning in pained ecstasy as your heavy cock empties itself inside his tight, textured walls.

Taehyung moans with you, throwing his head back in ecstasy because nothing beats getting creampied by you. Over and over again. It doesn’t lose its spark. On the contrary, the more you climax, the fuller he feels. Fuck, the spell makes you so packed with it. No matter how many times you climax, the amount of cum doesn’t get less. Taehyung can feel it fill his stomach and he gets off on it so fucking good that he keeps leaking onto your stomach.

He pushes your wrists together and holds them down with his right hand so he can press his left hand over yours on his stomach. It is bulging. Not only from your cock, but also from being filled with cum.

“I’m so stuffed with you”, he moans loudly, arching his back, “my stomach’s bursting from cum.”

“Tae please, I can’t. Ah!”

“Darling”, he moans, dropping to his elbow so he could moan into your ears, “I’m your fucking bitch”, he mewls and orgasms around your cock.

He becomes unbearably tight, throbbing and pulsating around your cock and making it so much harder to function.

“Tae please. Oh god you are so tight, please. Ah! Tae!” you beg and sob loudly, grasping his tensed biceps because it is all you can handle.

“This is the last one. Promise. Please just fill me up with everything”, he begs and orders at the same time, rutting against you as his ass overflows with your cum shots. His current high ruins him. He didn’t even know how much pressure was in his prostate until your squirting cock broke him. He can barely breathe, pushing your cock out against his will because he is tightening so fucking hard. It only makes him fuck back so much harder and quicker, needing to stay stuffed like lungs need air.

And so you are destined to shake, writhe and beg until Taehyung milked you dry. Well, as dry as you can get because even after your orgasm, you swear you could probably cum again. Not that you want to, but you swear that you could.

You drop your hand from his stomach and sob his name.

Taehyung knows that it is over, that your cock throbbed as much as it can and that you aren’t lost in another high anymore. He also knows exactly how to move to get you to the highest peak of pleasure. He knows because he has done it a million times before. He peels himself off of you, sitting up straight which shifts your cock deeper again. It presses against his abdominal wall, forcing it to stick out where your burning tip lies. He is so filled with cum that sitting up like this actually hurts in his stomach. He is so stuffed and there is no way for it all to go. He tenses up involuntarily, easing the pressure by lifting his hips just enough that he has your cock halfway inside.

His hole flutters and relaxes against his will, releasing spurts of your cum in wet, sinful sounds.

“I’m so stuffed”, he whimpers and for the first time tonight, he sounds so utterly submissive. He rests his hands on your waist, using it for support as he tries to sink down on you again. His hole squelches and squirts more cum, enabling your cock to fill him up without any sort of friction.

You bottom out. The pressure returns. Taehyung mewls your name. You sob his name.

“I’m so stuffed”, he says again because this is all he can really tell you, “please can you go a little longer? Please one more time. I need it one more time.”

“I don’t know”, you get out, writhing between his fingers.

“One more time, I’ll be gentle. Like this”, he begs and bounces on your cock in a slow rhythm.

“Tae”, you mewl, twisting the sheets.

You are ruined. He is ruined. It is obvious to both of you that the right thing to do right now would be to stop this, but you can’t. Your cock is on fire, how he is going to milk you again is a mystery to you but you know that he will. Taehyung’s stomach feels like bursting and is convulsing constantly in a weak attempt to get him to relieve himself of the pressure, how he is going to fit more of your cum inside is a mystery to him but he wants it so bad. He fucked you delirious and in the process ruined himself as well. He needs to have one more.

“Tae, I have to- it, it feels like pee a-again.”

“You just want to squirt. It’s okay, don’t fight it”, he assures you, adding the most desperate of “please”.

“No. No, this doesn’t f-feel like squirt, Tae ah.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay no matter what it is.”

“I can’t stop it.”

“Yes, please.”

“Tae, oh god”, you croak and then the pressure in your lower stomach bursts for the last time. You relieve yourself inside him in spurts of liquid, translucent cum. It feels so good. No words on earth could ever be enough to describe how good it feels to let all this pressure just explode.

“Thank you”, Taehyung keens and arches his back. He stills completely, “oh god, you’re making me squirt too”, he mewls and releases all over your torso in hot spurts of translucent goodness.

Taehyung is a gentleman. He likes cleanliness and is never dirty. So why. Why is it that whenever you and he fuck, you end up so fucking dirty and disgusting? Truly it is a phenomenon unable to be explained and a sensation so addicting you wish to never stop experiencing it. 

He drops to his elbows, rocking his hips gently so you could share in the afterglow. You finally begin feeling the fire die down in your cock. This must be how softening feels like. 

“Tae”, you whimper.

“I love you”, Taehyung squeaks out, trembling on you.

“I love you too”, you sob, hugging him tightly, “oh god. Oh god what just happened?”

“I know, I can’t hold myself for long.”

“It’s okay, just drop.”

Taehyung trembles and drops down onto you, blanketing you under his weight. His hole pulsates rhythmically as his orgasm dies down slowly. You continue throbbing as you finally begin softening.

“You did so well”, Taehyung whispers, hugging you against him, “I’m so proud of you, my sweetest darling.”

“Tae, I’m happy.”

“I’m happy too, my darling. So happy”, he says and then silence surrounds you.

You couldn’t possibly talk more. You are done for. Taehyung feels the same. It’s always like this with you and him. You get lost in the sex you are having and it ends up ruining both of you to the point of non-verbal cuddles and fights for air.

Taehyung recovers quicker than you, sitting up slowly. Your arms glide from his body and just kind of drop into the sheets. You don’t fix them, letting them lie where they first land. Your eyes race between the others’. His hair is messy, hanging into his features. He smiles. You retort it weakly.

“How was that for your first time?” he asks.

“You’re going to kill me one day”, you whisper in a croaky voice.

He chuckles, “does this mean that you liked it?”

You nod your head, rolling it to the side afterwards. You close your eyes in flutters.

“I’m fucking dead, holy fuck this actually just happened.”

“Mhm yes, it really did”, he snickers, “do you want to see something very sexy?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not going to touch my cock again. It might fall off you do.”

“No”, he laughs, “no, I promise I won’t. Look at my butt.”

“Alright?”

You shift your eyes to it. He lifts himself off your cock. It flops onto your stomach weakly. He positions himself above it and then seems to relax his muscles. What looks like liters of cum runs out of him in a steady stream.

“Oh god”, you croak, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It doesn’t stop”, Taehyung says and giggles, pressing his hand against his stomach to squeeze out even more of it. It is running down on each side of your stomach by now, soaking the sheets.

“This is so hot, Tae. Oh god, did I do that?”

“You did”, he says and sighs, “it hurt so much to have all of this inside. I was so close to bursting.”

“Holy cow. This is….fuck, this is hot.”

It finally stops, trickling out of him in an uncoordinated rhythm.

“Ah hm”, Taehyung hums, trembling a little, “empty. Heh.”

“Seriously, if you didn’t ruin me as hard as you did, I would have flipped you and fucked you senseless right now”, you murmur and writhe, “oh god, it’s everywhere though. And so warm”, you whine.

Taehyung laughs, nodding his head, “I know. So messy”, he sits down on your stomach, getting his ass dirty as well. His weight feels so good on your cock. Warm and not at all uncomfortable. He cups your cheeks and pulls you into a kiss.

You hook your arms behind his head, letting him pull you up until he sits on your lap and your chests are melted into one. It spreads the mess everywhere, but it’s already too late to care about that. You’ll just have to take a shower later.

“Holy fuck, I love you so much”, Taehyung whispers between kisses, “if the world ever stops turning, I’ll push her myself just so I can give myself more time with you.”

You giggle, letting him kiss you all over your face with your eyes closed in happy bliss.

“I love you too, Tae. So much.”

[seoulzie]

summer lovin'

synopsis: a sun-soaked beach day turns unexpectedly tense when a stranger encroaches on the couple's idyllic summer outing

彡 pairing: beomgyu x afab!reader 彡 genre: fluff, suggestive (?) 彡 warnings: explicit content, foul language, unwanted advances, physical intimacy, moaning ???

SEUL SPEAKS! its been awhile... i took a lil vacation so i couldn't write as often ㅠㅠ hope this somehow makes up for it!

the summer sun blazed overhead, casting golden rays over the bustling beach. the sound of waves crashing against the shore mingled with laughter and the distant calls of seagulls. you and beomgyu had decided to spend the day soaking up the sun and enjoying the carefree atmosphere. the beach was crowded, but it only added to the vibrant energy of the day.

the beach was a bustling tapestry of colorful umbrellas, sunbathers, and playful children building sandcastles as you and beomgyu searched for the perfect spot to claim as your own. the rhythmic crash of waves provided a soothing soundtrack to your search.

finally, you stumbled upon a secluded patch of sand, just a stone’s throw from the water’s edge. it was sheltered by a cluster of palm trees, offering dappled shade and a sense of privacy. beomgyu spread out the large, striped beach blanket with a satisfied grin while you set about anchoring the umbrella firmly into the sand.

as soon as the last grain of sand was settled, you couldn’t contain your excitement any longer, with a squeal of delight, you bounced on your toes, your eyes fixed on the shimmering expanse of blue.

"let's go swim!" you said, already taking a step towards the water.

beomgyu grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "whoa, hold on there, fishy," he said with a laugh. "don't forget to put on sunscreen. i don't want you to come crying to me because you look like a boiled lobster."

you pouted but couldn't help but laugh at his words. "fine, fine. hand it over."

he pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from the beach bag and handed it to you. you quickly applied it to your arms and legs, eager to get into the water. when you finished, you realized you couldn't reach your back.

"can you help me with my back?" you asked, holding out the bottle to beomgyu.

he smirked, “what do i get in return?" he teased, his eyes glinting with amusement.

you leaned in slightly, "how about i make it worth your while?" you suggested, your voice low and inviting.

a shameless smile crept across his face. the world seemed to slow down for a moment as you locked eyes with him. the promise of something more hung heavy in the air.

but then, as if snapping out of a trance, he chuckled, "alright, alright, you tease," and took the bottle of sunscreen from you

you turned around and pulled your hair to the side, exposing your back to him. the sun warmed your skin, but the anticipation of his touch made it feel like a furnace. 

he squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen onto his fingers, and you felt a shiver run through you as the cool liquid touched your heated skin. his hands were soft but firm, the touch sending a delicious chill across your back. the initial sensation of the sunscreen was a stark contrast to the warmth of his fingers, making every stroke feel electric.

beomgyu's fingers moved slowly, almost tauntingly, as he spread the sunscreen across your back. the sensation was a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability. you could feel the warmth of his palms and the gentle pressure of his fingertips as he worked. his touch was deliberate, and as his hands moved lower, a tension began to build between you.

the sensuality of his touch was palpable, each movement infused with a tender yet provocative intent. his fingertips traced intricate patterns over your skin, barely brushing over the sensitive areas, which made you gasp involuntarily.

you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the feel of the sunscreen, but it was difficult to concentrate. every brush of his hands sent a ripple of sensation through your body. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

his palms pressed down lightly, spreading the sunscreen with careful, deliberate pressure. it wasn’t just the sensation of the sunscreen but the way his touch seemed to linger just a fraction too long, savoring the contact. as he moved closer to your lower back, you could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with the lingering coolness of the sunscreen, creating a blend of sensations.

with each movement, beomgyu’s fingers seemed to dance closer to your hips, where the skin was more sensitive. he paused there for a moment, his hands hovering tantalizingly close. the tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and you could feel your heart racing, pounding heavily against your ribcage. the anticipation was almost unbearable.

finally, as his hands neared the edge of your lower back, you let out a soft moan, unable to stifle the response to his lingering touch. he chuckled, the sound a low, sultry rumble that resonated through his chest and made your skin prickle with awareness. his breath was warm and teasing against your sensitive skin, his touch leaving a trail of heat that lingered long after he’d finished.

"relax," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "i won't bite."

but you knew better. his touch was a bite of its own, a thrilling, intoxicating poison and you were completely under his spell.

as he finished applying the sunscreen, and his hands lingered on your skin for a moment longer before pulling away. you turned to face him, your heart still racing. he was looking at you with a knowing smile, his eyes filled with a desire that matched your own.

as beomgyu finished spreading the sunscreen across your back, his hands lingering just a bit longer than necessary, you turned around to face him, a playful glint in your eye.

“well, if this is your way of convincing me to stay out of the sun, i might just end up needing a second dose,” you teased, your voice dripping with amusement. “you’re dangerously good at this.”

beomgyu’s eyes sparkled with desire. he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. “is that so? maybe i should find more excuses to touch you like this,” he murmured, his breath warm and tantalizing against your face.

before he could close the distance, you grinned mischievously and darted away, your laughter ringing out as you made a beeline for the sea. “you’ll have to catch me first!” you called over your shoulder, your voice carrying a hint of challenge.

beomgyu’s expression shifted from surprised to amused as he watched you sprint towards the water. his eyes followed you with a mix of affection and exasperation, clearly entertained by your playful escape. “you’re impossible!” he shouted after you, shaking his head with a grin as he took off in pursuit.

𓏲 𓇼 * ~ !

as the day wore on, you and beomgyu took breaks from swimming to relax on the beach, build sandcastles, and enjoy the snacks you had brought. it was a perfect day, filled with laughter and joy.

eventually, the heat became intense, and you decided to take a break from the water. beomgyu offered to get some food for both of you, suggesting you stay behind and relax under the umbrella.

"i'll be right back," he said, flashing a smile before heading off towards the food stalls.

you settled down on the blanket, enjoying the shade and the gentle breeze coming from the ocean. as you watched the waves, a guy from a nearby group playing beach volleyball noticed you and walked over, a confident smile on his face.

"hey there," he greeted, looking you up and down. "you here alone?"

you shook your head. "no, i'm with my boyfriend. he's just getting us some food."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "boyfriend, huh? well, if he's not around, maybe i can keep you company?"

you shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to be rude but also not interested. "no, thanks. i'm fine."

joon, the guy, persisted, stepping a bit closer. "come on, just a chat. you look like you could use some fun."

the closer he got, the more uncomfortable you felt. you could sense his gaze lingering on you, making your skin crawl. "seriously, i'm not interested," you said more firmly, hoping he'd take the hint.

hyeonu smirked, leaning in. "are you sure about that? you seem a bit lonely."

before you could respond, you saw beomgyu approaching, his expression darkening as he took in the scene. he walked straight up to hyeonu, standing between the two of you.

"is there a problem here?" beomgyu asked, his tone firm and cold.

hyeonu glanced at beomgyu and then went back to you. "just talking to your girl, man. no harm done."

beomgyu's eyes narrowed. "well, she's not interested. so, if you don't mind, fuck off and let us enjoy our day."

hyeonu held up his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright. didn't mean to cause any trouble." he backed away, rejoining his group.

you turned to beomgyu, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. "thanks, gyu."

he sighed, obviously still agrivated "who the fuck was he?"

you smiled and reached up to cup his face, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "you don't have to worry. i'm all yours."

the tension left his shoulders. but his grumbling continued. "that guy was such an asshole. like, seriously, who does he think he is? just coming over and—"

you cut him off with another kiss, your lips gentle but firm against his. "gyu, it's okay. he's gone now."

he sighed against your lips, his frustration slowly dissipating. "i just hate seeing guys like that. they have no respect."

"i know," you whispered, kissing him again. "but i'm with you. no one else."

beomgyu's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. "yeah, you're right. i just... i can't help it sometimes."

you smiled against his lips, feeling his tension melt away with each kiss. "it's okay. now, let's enjoy this food you got."

he grinned and nodded, setting the food down on the blanket. you both sat down and started eating, the earlier tension melting away with each bite.

as the sun began its descent, casting a golden glow over the beach, you and beomgyu walked hand-in-hand along the shore. the sky was a canvas of pink, orange, and purple, streaked with the softest hues of blue. the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks provided a soothing soundtrack to your peaceful stroll.

you paused to watch the waves, the salty spray misting your skin. the world seemed to slow down as you took in the beauty of the sunset. turning to beomgyu, you found him watching you with a tender expression in his eyes.

"this was the perfect day," you said, your voice soft. the gentle breeze carried your words away, but the look in beomgyu's eyes told you he had heard.

he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "it was," he agreed, his voice filled with a contentment that mirrored your own. "i'm glad i got to spend it with you."

you leaned in and kissed him softly. the taste of salt and sun was on his lips, and it was intoxicating. as you pulled away, you looked into his eyes. they were filled with a love so deep and profound, it took your breath away.

"me too," you whispered, your heart full.

they walked on in companionable silence for a while, their hands clasped tightly together. the fading light cast long shadows, stretching out across the sand. the air was cool now, carrying the promise of a crisp evening.

"i don't want this day to end," you said, breaking the silence.

beomgyu squeezed your hand. "we don't have to let it," he replied. "we can make more days like this."

a warmth spread through you and this time iit was more than just the lingering warmth of the sun. it was the warmth of love, of shared experiences. you turned to face him, your eyes sparkling with a mixture of happiness and anticipation.

"i like the sound of that," you replied.

as darkness began to envelop the beach, you and beomgyu made your way back to the car. the drive home was quiet, filled with the comfortable silence of two people deeply connected. the memory of the day, from the laughter-filled morning to the intimate sunset, was etched into your mind. and as you drifted off to sleep that night, with beomgyu's arm around you, you knew that this was just the beginning of the story.

⋆˚࿔ taglist! @flowzel , @izzyy-stuff , @tjneeygyvz, @beombeomlovesme, @s0urcherry , @rianrishu, @blossommi ⤷ want to get notified? click here!

© 2024 seoulzie

[lxvebun]

I'll wait forever if I have to

synopsis:you're worried Satoru's teasing has gone a bit too far. There's nothing wrong with saving your first kiss for someone special, right?

content: Suguru Geto x gender neutral reader. Fluff! Comes off a lil angsty in the beginning but its fluffy and sickeningly sweet. Around 1k words. Written with hidden inventory arc in mind so you'd be in the same grade together, but read it however you want♡.We are all a little lovesick for Suguru and he's a lil lovesick for you♡ eng is not my first language so i'm sorry for any mistakes♡ enjoy!!

Based on Satoru's version of the fic♡

"Does it bother you that Satoru teases you so much?" The question breaks the comfortable silence you had as he walked you home. Sky fading from pink and orange cotton candy clouds to a clear and deep navy gradient canvas clustered with stars and moonlight.

Suguru is Gojo's bestfriend. You're sure he's used to his antics. Still, Satoru can take it a little far sometimes. Being oblivious to or ignoring the line completely. Crossing over it with a skip in his step and a smirk on his face.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting for the right person, you know." You reassure. Perhaps a little to yourself too. You'd wait forever for him, not that he knows.

(You kinda wish he did.)

You keep your voice soft, and soothing even with the unintentional undertone of worry. But Soothing enough to dulcify if Satoru's teasing did leave some cracks in his heart.

He lets out a low amused hum in agreement. Smooth as warm honey. Its drum startling the butterflies between your ribs awake. Not that he has to do much anyway to awaken them. It seems like they are always fluttering around when he's near. A bit smothering at times. Making your head fog over with images of liquid golden eyes and sickeningly sweet smiles.

You reach the traffic light before he speaks again. Filling the silence of waiting until the red light turns green.

"You don't have to worry about that, y/n. It's not hurting my feelings. I'm more than content to wait for my person" he answers sincerely. Not an ounce of impatience dripped from his voice. He means every word.

My person. his words weigh a little heavy on your heart. My person. Does that mean he already has his eyes set on someone? You're pretty sure a few of the butterflies have lost it's wings. Wings Shriveled and shattered at the thought. Broken bodies wriggling uncomfortably in your gut. Anxious and mourning as you think over who it could be. Would it be different if you'd just confessed already? Did you miss your chance or was there never any to begin with?

(The thought of him making someone else's heart race the way he does yours makes you a little sick)

You don't look at him. He's always been good at reading you, so in tune with your well being. You're an open book to him and usually, you're more than happy to let his fingers glide over the pages. Break you open to study you up close. Hoping that one of the words, one of the chapters in there is enough to lure him in, like a sirens song. Enough to steal his heart ...damn, how dare he fall for someone else.

"Sounds like you already have someone in mind, then". It comes out forced as you swallow down what you really want to say. Unable to decide between cursing him out or confessing to him on the spot.

You keep your gaze at the light ahead as if the force of it can will it into turning from this horrible shade of red to green, so this conversation can be over. So you can continue to walk in silence, so he can drop you off at the front door, wait until he hears the lock click from inside as he always does and you can dive into the comfort of your bed, dream of what could have been and try your best to move on

(You don't think you can if you're honest)

But again, you're an open book to him. He almost looks proud as he glances you over. Standing up a little straighter, failing to suppress a smile. A horribly beautiful smile that does not at all fit the turmoil inside your head. As if you're reaction solidified something in him.

God, how long does it take for a light to switch?

Your gaze doesn't falter as he steps closer to you. His warmth, his cologne enveloping your senses, wrapping around you like a spiderweb. Fitting as you feel like your heart is going to be torn out at any moment. Waiting for the words that will fracture your hopes. you think of just booking it through the red right at this point and leave him to choke on his rejection.

"Will you look at me, please"

He's replicating the soothing tone you used on him. Only he's so much better at it. Smooth like warm butter and sweet as syrup. How could you possibly deny him when he sounds this heavenly.

He's a patient man, he is. But he doesn't want to hurt you. Doesn't want you to shatter your own heart even more by thinking he could ever love someone the way that he loves you. As if he could ever want anyone else when it's always going to be you that captured his heart.

His fingers slide under your jaw, grip delicate as can be as he turns your head to meet his eyes. You're a little embarrassed at the lack of resistance on your part.

His face is kind. And despite your hesitance, his eyes are easy to hold. Feeling like sunsets on a warm summer evening.

"I'm just waiting for you to be ready too. However long it takes."

A timer goes off. The light has finally turned green. you both stay unmoving.

You feel like you've been staring into his eyes for hours when really it's only been a few seconds of silence after his words. Then you half-heartedly push him off. A laugh bubbles up your throat, relief evident in the melodic tone.

"you're awful, you know that?" not a sliver of actual malice in your words. He knows that too. continuing to stare at you fondly, eyes soft and a little love-sick. Smiling brightly at your words as if you complimented him.

"And you're beautiful"  the timer of the traffic light is sounding quicker now, similar to the beating of your heart. Indicating that it will soon turn red again.

You have a moment of bravery. confidence, as you intertwine your fingers with his and pull him across the street before the light turns red. His grip is nice and firm, tracing heart shapes on the back of your hand with his thumb. Doodling silent I love you's into your skin.

you continue to walk to your home together. Hands now interlaced. Hearts intertwined. Crisp evening air kissing your skin and calming the heat blooming in your body.

"I don't want to have my first kiss at a traffic light. You deserve something more romantic than that too," you begin. swaying your hands back and forth. Focusing on the street infront of you. You see your front door coming into view.

"But if you feel the urge to kiss me as you drop me off at my doorstep," you see him begin to grin in the corner of your eye. It tugs at the corners of your lips too

"I'll let you"

thank you for reading, angels!! I'm havinf such Suguru brainrot atm😩🩷 he's so cute.

Also I thought his eyes were brownish/ gold because I always just imagine him with that but they are purple....🔪 YOU🫵 ARE GOING TO IGNORE THAT FOR NOW AND IMAGINE THEY ARE GOLD AS WELL. Thank you🩷

[wheeboo]

venus | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which the love between you and the prince is forbidden. PAIRING. prince!choi seungcheol x servant-commoner!reader (ft. servant-commoner!chan very briefly) GENRE. fluff, angst with a hopeful ending?, forbidden love, royalty au, arranged marriage au (cheol is in an arranged marriage), established secret relationship WARNINGS. cheol and reader both have a lil argument, terms of endearment (darling, love, sweetheart), kissing WORD COUNT. 3.8k

note: fic is vaguely inspired by the bridge part of this song called "venus" by regina song 🫶💕 this is also my first time writing a royalty au, so i hope you enjoy! this also features the very iconic "you came" "you called" line 😭

The ballroom of Pledis Palace is charged with an air of enchantment. The time had just reached the peak of evening. Moonlight filters through the large, grand windows, bathing the open room in an ethereal glow. Along the sides of the ballroom are intricately carved golden marble columns, each one painted with a different tale of the kingdom's past.

In the middle of the ceiling sits a majestic chandelier hanging from a massive, golden chain. The piece is the crown jewel of the ballroom, one that easily draws visitors into all its glory and beauty, and it casts a radiant gleam that seemed to rain down like stardust upon the guests below.

The dance floor reflects the light from the chandelier, creating an illusion of stars twinkling at one's feet. You watch all the elegantly-dressed guests move with grace across the room. The women are all dressed with precise attention to detail, their gowns and jewelry like works of art on a canvas. Some wear dresses in shades of amethyst, emerald, and sapphire, embroidered with beautiful beadwork that glistens like constellations, while others prefer flowing gowns in delicate pastels, as if they've stepped out of a fairytale.

They all hold onto their partners𑁋lavish gentlemen dressed in sophistically tailored suits matching the colours of their ladies' gowns𑁋with utmost love and enjoyment, while you find yourself standing at the side, holding up a tray of drinks as a particular heaviness settles in your chest.

And as your eyes drift ever so slightly, you swear that regardless what direction you look in, he's always there at the end of it, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Yet the light this time was dim and lacked almost all the hope that used to be there when you looked at him.

Not only is the royal family of Pledis here, but also a second one. The Choi royal family of Pledis, and of course, the future in-laws.

Prince Choi Seungcheol is dancing with poise that appeared almost effortless, eyes locked in a tender gaze to his future betrothed, yet the smile to his face doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's the same kind of gaze during the times he would be with you, like in the secret corners of the royal garden that only the two of you knew, or in the times you both snuck out of the castle at the wee hours of the night to stargaze, or the intimate nights you spent with him in his quarters where you had to leave just before daybreak.

It's those times where the certain line between nobility and commoner could be momentarily blurred. It's those times where you both truly felt free in more ways than one.

As you continue to watch the dance and see the way he twirls his betrothed with ease, the world seems to blur, and it felt as if it was just you and Seungcheol in this grand ballroom. His eyes, so familiar yet so distant, meet yours in a fleeting moment. His face falls instantly.

The world and time may have pulled you apart, but in that stolen glance, you were brought back together. In your eyes, you saw the prince who had defied tradition and chosen to be with you without boundaries. In his eyes, he saw the commoner who had been his confidant and, more importantly, his secret love.

"Why are you just standing there? Go tend to your duties," the steward advises you annoyedly, snapping you out of your focus. With a start, you fix your posture, offering a quick nod of understanding to the stern-faced steward.

Hastily, you resume your duty, walking through the large crowd, presenting the tray of drinks and feeling their odd looks linger on you as you move past them. They're taunting you, not with words, but with their subtle, condescending glances. The weight in your chest only deepens with each step you take.

You reach the outskirts of the dance floor, casting another glance towards Seungcheol. His elegant moves and the seemingly affectionate way he held his betrothed gives a bittersweet feeling to your chest, and you can't help but briefly imagine yourself there with him instead𑁋being the one at the end of his smile, the end of his touch.

As the music swelled, the dance finally comes to an end. You watch as the prince gracefully leads his betrothed back to her seat, a warm smile on his face. You know he didn't have much of a choice. He had an obligation to the kingdom, to his family, and to the future over the love he had once whispered to you in the hidden corners of the royal gardens.

Your heart aches again, but you understand. You couldn't be a part of his world, no matter how much he cared for you.

You don't catch the way his eyes follow you once you dismiss yourself out of the ballroom, struggling to hold your tears back.

"Y/N, don't you think you overwatered this area right here?" Chan, a fellow gardener for the royal garden and closest friend, taps lightly on your shoulder, startling you out of your daze and nearly the watering can in your hands. You blink rapidly, bringing yourself back to the present.

All you manage is a weak smile, some embarrassment and guilt flooding your senses. "Sorry, I... I guess my mind was elsewhere."

He gives you a knowing look, gaze sympathetic yet encouraging. "It's okay. I know things haven't been the best recently." He gestures toward the grand castle behind you, its towers standing tall and proud. You know exactly what he's talking about, and it makes you let out a sigh, facing back towards the garden in front of you.

You've poured your heart into the royal garden for so long, finding comfort in its quiet beauty and the therapeutic rhythm of tending to its blooms from day to night.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the moon begins to rise, the garden transforms into a world of magic. The abundance of flowers surrounding you seem to glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and their scent becomes more rich in the cool night air. The air carries a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of leaves soothes your troubled mind.

There was just something about simply being with nature𑁋in the royal garden and with the beauty that exists outside its walls𑁋that allows you to breathe more freely. Sometimes, you swear that even the flowers are capable of whispering words of their own, as if sharing stories with you alone, or stories that you used to listen to with one particular man.

Just as you're about to finish watering one last final section, you hear Chan's distant voice from afar.

"Y-Your Highness! What brings you here at this hour?"

You freeze in place, the almost-empty watering can slipping from your fingers as you turn around.

Prince Seungcheol stands at the edge of the garden, his gracious figure silhouetted against the moonlit scenery. He's dressed in his nighttime attire, a pair of simple yet elegant black trousers and a crisp white shirt that flows slightly in the cool breeze. His gaze flickers between you and Chan, a hint of curiosity in his expression, and the two of you both offer a respectful bow in his direction as he approaches.

"I just wanted some fresh air," Seungcheol answers sharply, locking his eyes with yours, and there's a small smile that graces his lips once he catches sight of you. "It's peaceful here in the garden, isn't it?"

You heart only flutters to his words, yet that arrow of sadness pierces through your chest. However, even below the auroral skies and with the intoxicating fragrance of flowers all around, your heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

"Chan, you may excuse us for a moment." He gestures to the young boy, his voice carrying a warm, reassuring tone that you've longed to hear.

With a quick nod, Chan offers a polite bow, shooting you a glance before slipping his way back in the direction of the castle, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol approaches you, the distance between you decreasing until you're standing just a breath away from each other. You both remain in a contemplative silence, neither of you wanting to break the fragile moment that has been rekindled after so long.

Finally, he speaks in a hushed tone. "You've been avoiding me."

Your gaze is quick to fall to the ground in guilt, unable to meet his eyes.

"You know I had to," You reply simply, voice barely more than a whisper. "We can't be together, Cheol. You should know this better than me. It was the only choice you had. Duty called, and you answered."

Seungcheol's face only contorts with a mix of anguish and frustration. "Duty? Duty won't keep me warm at night, Y/N. Duty won't make me feel alive. You are what my heart longs for. You should know this. This is all purely arranged, don't you remember?"

You let out an audible scoff, feeling your hands crumple into fists at your side. "You're being selfish right now. Think about the kingdom, your family, and the future you're meant to build. Don't you see why we can't... we can't be together? It's inevitable. We shouldn't..." Your find your voice drifting away, words getting caught in your throat.

He steps even closer, his frustration boiling over into desperation. "I am thinking about them. I think about them every day, but I... I can't stop thinking about you either. I can't stop loving you."

"This love won't feed the hungry, Seungcheol. This love won't protect our people. This love won't secure the kingdom's future. This love won't change the fact that I'm merely a commoner and you're a prince."

The moonlight accentuates the sadness in his eyes as your words sink in, and you find yourself unable to hold back the tears that have welled up. The two of you only stand there for a few long moments, simply gazing in each other's glassy eyes, feeling like the garden itself was holding in a breath of its own.

Then in a sudden moment of vulnerability, you step closer to him, resting your head against his chest, taking in his familiar warmth and the scent you've longed for as your tears stain his shirt. Seungcheol wraps you in his strong arms, pulling you closer, and you feel his heartbeat against your body, steady and comforting. It's a sound you've always loved listening to whenever you embraced each other.

"I've missed you, darling," he mutters quietly. "Don't you understand how much you mean to me?"

With his arms around you, you feel a warmth that fills the void in your heart. It's a sensation you've yearned for the past few torturous months.

"I-I've missed you too," You confess, voice trembling. "But... but we can't𑁋"

"Please," he pleads softly, tightening his hold around you. "Can't I just hold you?"

The tenderness his voice holds cuts you off, and you can't help the way your fingers instinctively knead at his shirt.

Seungcheol holds you tightly, as if he's afraid that letting go will make you vanish into thin air. In this fleeting moment, there's no kingdom to rule, no traditions to uphold𑁋just the two of you, reunited in an embrace that disregards the confines of your roles. It's as if the world beyond this secluded royal garden has ceased to exist, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

"I love you," he murmurs, voice heavy with sorrow, his lips brushing against your hair. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Usually that particularly intimate exchange brings those flutters to your stomach and a giddy smile to your face, but instead, it only makes your heart throb. Though you know with every fibre in your body that it's true𑁋that you love each other. It's not a secret, nor a feeling to deny.

You find yourself pulling away slightly, angling your head up to be able to take a look at him. His gaze meets yours halfway, and the intensity in his dark pupils nearly takes your breath away. He searches your eyes for a moment, before drawing his lips near yours, his intent clear. For a heartbeat, you're tempted to give in𑁋to taste the sweetness of his kiss once more.

But then the weight of responsibility, the duty you've always known, everything, pulls you back.

"I-I can't," You whisper, the words escaping your lips shakily. "We can't, Seungcheol. It-It's not right."

Seungcheol's breath hitches as you pull away. His lips hover just inches from yours, yearning for a connection that seems increasingly unattainable.

"I know," he replies quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. He still doesn't want to let you go. "I understand. I'm sorry."

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, caressing his skin softly. "The kingdom needs you. Your people need you. They need a strong, capable leader. They need their prince."

Seungcheol's jaw tightens. "And what about what I need? What about what my heart seeks?"

You only gaze longingly at him. The two of you know the answer to that. You don't have to say anything before he understands with a sigh. His expression softens with a mix of resignation and affection, and he takes your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"Your Highness, your presence is requested back in the palace," Chan's voice calls out from behind, breaking the fragile moment between the two of you.

Seungcheol releases your hand defeatedly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer.

However, instead of backing away, he leans back in close to whisper into your ears, "Come meet me at the royal ballroom tomorrow at midnight," Then he pauses, contemplating, and adding on, "if you wish, of course."

Then his lips curl into a bittersweet smile before turning away to leave. The sound of his footsteps gradually fades as he walks away back towards the palace, leaving you standing amidst the fragrant blooms and under the rays of soft moonlight.

Come meet me at the royal ballroom... midnight... if you wish. Seungcheol's words have been echoing in your mind for the entirety of the day, sometimes even distracting you from the duties you are assigned to in the royal garden.

The more you thought over his invitation, the more it felt like an impossible temptation, knowing well of the risks and consequences it could bring.

The day passes in a blur, the sun making its daily journey across the sky, casting a warm and inviting glow over the palace and the royal garden. And when the late night finally takes over, and the clock strikes midnight, you find yourself cautiously walking down the large corridor of the palace, your feet instinctively bringing you in the direction of the royal ballroom. It's eerily quiet at this time, nothing but skeleton staff that still heightens your paranoid senses of getting caught.

Yet as you stop in front of the grand doors of the ballroom, your heart quickens its pace. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. Should you really be doing this? Was it entirely a good idea to be here?

But just the thought of simply him draws you in, your hand briefly gliding over the glistening doorknob.

With a determined sigh, you take the leap and push the heavy doors open. The ballroom lies before you, bathed in the silvery luminescence filtering through the grand windows. Your heart races as you step inside.

The ballroom is empty, deserted practically. All of the lights, including the large chandelier, were switched off, the only source coming from the outside world through the tall windows.

As you step further into the room, the sounds of your shoes echoing throughout, the sheer emptiness of the place becomes more apparent. You swear you even hear your own thoughts bouncing off the walls of the room. Doubts start to creep into your mind. What if he doesn't come? What if this was all a mistake?

However, just as you're about to give in to the feeling of hopelessness, you hear a soft sound from behind you. You turn to find Seungcheol entering the ballroom and closing the door shut. He's dressed in a simple black suit, and there's a twinge of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrors your own.

"You came," he says, and his voice is so soft that you can barely hear it over your racing heart.

You fully turn yourself to him, swallowing down a nervous lump in your throat.

"You called."

Seungcheol's eyes light up, and a faint smile crosses his lips as he steps closer to you. The moonlight bathes him in an celestial glow, accentuating his princely features. But in this moment, he's just the man you've been in love with for so long.

He extends his hand toward you, eyes locked onto yours, inviting you to share a dance with him.

"May I?" he asks gentlemanly, and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks.

You hesitate for a brief moment, glancing down at his hand and back up to his face. "I... I don't know how..."

Seungcheol's smile remains warm and encouraging, his hand still extended toward you.

"It's okay," he says softly. "I'll teach you. Just follow my lead."

Tentatively, you place your hand in his. His grip is firm yet gentle as he guides you to the centre of the empty dance floor, a certain eager bounce in his step that you notice, and the stars painting the ground seem to come to life as you stand with him. Seungcheol places his hand on your waist, and the warmth of his palm against your skin sends shivers down your spine. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to steady your breathing as you prepare to follow his lead.

At first, your steps are awkward, but you try your best to mimic the elegance and grace that he naturally possesses. He's probably had personal training for this kind of thing, You think.

You chuckle at the small moments where your feet accidentally bump or you step on his toes, and Seungcheol's laughter mingles with yours. Nothing but a soft melody of an imagined song fills the silence as the two of you move together in the middle of the ballroom.

"You're doing great," he whispers, breath brushing against your ear as you sway together.

It's scarily easy to lose yourself in Seungcheol's eyes. They're the same eyes that once whispered secrets of love to you beneath the stars. Now they say a lot without saying anything.

You don't know how long you've been dancing, but it feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment all at once. The world outside the ballroom may be waiting, filled with your separate responsibilities and expectations, but in this moment, it's just you and him.

"Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?" Seungcheol comments, even though you were only dressed in your servant uniform.

Your cheeks flush at his compliment, feeling a bit self-conscious under his gaze, and offer a shy smile. "I'm not as stunning as the ladies at the court, nor your betrothed."

Seungcheol gently tilts your chin upward, making sure you meet his eyes.

"Every time I look at you, I feel like I fall in love all over again." His thumb brushes lightly against your cheek. "Every time I watch you down tending to the garden through my quarters, I feel as if you're tending to my heart. I can simply say that you're the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on, sweetheart."

His words make your heart swell out of your chest, his grip on your waist tightening imperceptibly, drawing you closer to him. The space between you vanishes, and you can feel the heat of his body seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you. Seungcheol could shower you with praises all day long, and you would never tire of hearing them. He has a way of making you feel special, cherished, and utterly adored.

"Cheol?" You call out, voice tinged with vulnerability.

He raises an eyebrow, still guiding you through the dance. "Yes, love?"

"Are we crazy for doing this?" You ask. It's meant to be rhetorical in a way, but the uncertainty in your voice lingers, and Seungcheol's expression becomes more serious.

He slows the movement between you two, his pensive eyes locked onto yours.

"Perhaps we are," he admits wholeheartedly. "but I'd rather be crazy with you than live a life without you."

His words quietly suspend in the air around you. The moments pass, but they feel eternal, as if time itself has momentarily paused to let the two of you be together. You're captured in his eyes, just like he is with yours. You see the emotions he's trying to convey: love, longing, and the knowledge that this moment is both a blessing and a curse.

And then without a word, you both lean in at the same time, lips meeting each other's in a kiss both softly and tenderly. It's a stolen moment; it's a secret scene that only the moon and stars witness.

His arms pull you closer, fingers dancing along your spine, as if he's trying to bridge any space that might exist between you. It's a kiss that tastes of bittersweet nostalgia𑁋something of what once was and what could never be. You savour the taste of him on your lips, knowing that once the morning light arrives, this moment may become nothing more than a distant memory.

As your lips break away, you both draw back slightly, foreheads touching, breathing heavily as you savour the precious seconds of closeness.

"You know that I'd give up everything for you," he whispers, breath warm against your skin.

You only smile, tracing your fingers gently over his lips. He leans into your touch.

"I know," You say softly. "And I would do the same for you."

"But just for tonight." He pushes back some strands of hair behind your ear. "Can we pretend that the world doesn't matter?"

You peer into his eyes, and for a moment, you see a reflection of your own pining. Your heart sinks, but it also rises. A smile drifts across your face, but it also carries a trace of sadness. Leaning in, you nearly press your lips against his once again, but then you take in a deep breath.

"Yes," is all you mutter. "I'm all yours."

That's all it takes for him to kiss you again, a bit more fervently and urgently that it nearly makes you stumble in surprise. But the second you pull back from each other, he's grabbing your hand in his, a bright smile to his face, before twirling you around and pulling you in close once more, your laughter echoing in the empty ballroom together. You share one more kiss, and then another, and another, whispers of hushed I love you's against each other’s lips as the night goes on like it will never end.

And it's with each minute that passes that only strengthens Seungcheol's determination𑁋that in some way, he will make sure you both will be together, whether that means escaping the constraints of your worlds, finding a way to keep your love alive in secret, or even sacrificing a part of himself.

With each kiss, he silently promises you that he will find a way. With each kiss, you silently promise to love and wait for him.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1

[throwaway-yandere]

And The Sun Is Silent (Yandere!Wriothesley/Reader)

Unreliable Synopsis: You, a former writer, received a fan letter. Truly a curious thing, for the contents appear more personal than what it should be.

A/n: I am not back. I posted this cuz first off, I adore Joe Zieja and all his works and I was so hyped when I saw he voiced Wriothesley and second, mfer gave me C4 qiqi. i love my daughter but cmon wrio, I literally got the same haircut as you do now-

CW: nothing really. Just a lil mind frick ig

“When I saw his hands wrapped around his dearest new spouse, cutting that vile wedding cake together, I wanted nothing more than to take that knife and slit his throat.”

(Y/n) was a serialized author in Fontaine whose works were primarily geared towards detective novels. However, their words were less laced with objectivity and “irrefutable facts” as the heavy pockets do when spinning their tales. Unfortunately, they weren’t meant to fill their coffers with hit-release masterpieces. (Y/n)– pen name “Maestro Justiniano” – was more engrossed in the perpetrators' psychology like the barkeeps and magicians do. They were the main characters– the sung hero of the tale. The glorified violence thrived in each passing page for the only mystery to be solved was “who will they target next?”

If young fans of other authors were seen as aspiring detectives or law enforcers, those who were known as fans of the Maestro were unjustifiably labeled as “future degenerates.” For (Y/n), it was funny. Overhearing grandparents waste their already fleeting energy to scold their grandchild’s love for their sinful work was their source of joy.

But (Y/n) (L/n) was not Maestro Justiano in public.

They were Duke Wriothesley’s spouse. Maestro Justiano is but a shade and (Y/n) is a human. The maestro does not feed on earth nor mora, but (Y/n) is obliged to. He bought his title, and he bought his spouse.

Gone was their free fourth finger. With a golden shackle, they sealed their fate to a wealthy man for table scraps. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is generous with his pockets, but to (Y/n), they would rather starve themselves writing than sit through another seminar about the nation’s ever-changing laws.

The Maestro’s life used to be so full of thrill; the “pelf” they received for each writing commission was a life worth their breaths. 

The Maestro’s life used to be coated in moonlight; sneaking out and running gigs was their bread and butter.

But now the sun is silent, and (Y/n) stands with a tail behind their legs. 

“(Y/n), do you need anything?”

Wriothesley asked even when he could guess the answer. Lazily, (Y/n) shifted from the covers, peering over with half-closed eyes.

“Nothing, Your Grace.” (Y/n) yawned. “Close the door.”

The Duke nods, understanding their fatigue. He silently shuts the door, and nothing of interest is to be noted afterward.

This has been their canned script every Wednesday to Friday without fail for the past 3 years. 

In (Y/n)’s eyes, Wriothesley is a mere animal with whom they mate for survival. Barely any true emotional trysts occurred in their first two years of marriage. They’re a “friend” of fortune. With him always away from home, (Y/n) is left with nothing but their thoughts. 

The nights were warm, but the mornings were cold. 

And the sun is silent.

Their husband has never been quite the same after an incident during their 2nd year of marriage. 

On the night they were attacked in the comfort of their shared home, a gear in his head was stolen.

Wriothesley held them, audibly more alarmed and broken than (Y/n)– the victim– was. He shook, afraid of what you must’ve gone through in his absence. Robbery, that’s what the records say. An armed man entered their home with the intent to steal. Black were his gloves and hair. The perpetrator thought they had been away on a business trip and pulled the trigger by surprise when they emerged from the kitchen. 

That thief had failed to steal material possessions, but their husband had lost his good of intellect. He cannot stand the notion of leaving them alone. What is a collector’s item if it’s not in great condition? Wriothesley has locked the gates and kept (Y/n) in, and he’ll continue to do so to preserve their value.

“I want to meet you somewhere someday, in a place where the sun is no longer silent. I want to crawl and bury myself under your skin where I can read through your mind. The house is too quiet. I want to trace your collarbones. I want to bite into your flesh, and I need you to look into my eyes as I tear myself apart. I am in love with you, (Y/n). It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I live within these walls. I am what keeps you grounded with a golden ring. But why does the sun hide from me?”

Despite how much closer the couple are now, (Y/n) feels more distant than before. Not that they had the right to say "The duke was not the man I married" when they rarely talked— but it surely felt that way.

And in one Sunday night, the forcibly retired author used their words not to immerse readers, but to intimidate guards to grant entry to their "beloved" husband's office.

"You fucking bitch…"

"Lovely to see you too, honey."

"You made me lose my job!!!"

"Here I thought you refer to it as a side-line."

"Are you fucking for real right now?!" They screamed and slammed a fist down on the table. The pain hasn't hit them yet as their unbridled shock and rage hit overdrive. "Since when did you have the right to just take my–"

"Your hobbies away?" Wriothesley placed down his chamomile tea and shrugged. "Honey, I'm not doing anything like that. No, I'm only protecting you."

"Oh, great!" They waved a hand around dramatically before slapping it back to their thigh, rolling their eyes. "Let me guess, there's a biiiig explanation that fits into one giant puzzle."

"You know me too well for someone who never initiates conversation." He smiled mockingly. 

"You're right. Court Dense Publishing House is being investigated for numerous allegations. Toxic working environment, which included stalking and superiors leveraging pay for sexual favors might I add, and tax fraud. The details of the latter will bore you." Wriothesley continued.

He sighed. "Can't you tell? I'm just being a decent husband. What if you were being harassed and you were afraid to tell me?" 

"Like hell, I was–" They took a sharp deep breath in. "Listen. Let me get back to my work and we won't have any problems, Your Grace."

"No can do. You're an ex-Maestro now."

“And you're an ex-con.” They quickly retorted.

…

…

“... You're calling me an ex-con?" Wriothesley laughed dryly. The lone sound made them inch their heels slightly backward.

His eyelids lowered as his dull gray eyes peeked behind underneath his tilted glare.

They had never seen him this serious.

"Who do you think turned me into one?”

…

…

…

They blinked.

His words– though not making sense without context– carried a heavy weight they had unfortunately missed.

His gaze and words were accusingly pointed.

At them.

…

…

Wriothesley laughed.

"I'm kidding, of course. Don't be so tense."

(Y/n) didn't laugh.

He smiled. They can't tell if it was fake or not. He's been too good at pretending to be nice that they never knew when he genuinely dropped the act.

Like Maestro Justiniano, that argument is history now. 

And maybe that's why (Y/n) first thought it would be a comforting experience to read a story written by an avid fan.

It was a long manuscript. Sigewinne claimed it came from a fellow Melusine who wanted her favorite author's thoughts on how to write a criminal male lead. When asked for the writer's name, she refused to say it. (Y/n) respected it since they too posted anonymously…

But this reading sounds less like a professional job and more like a stalker's confession…

“When I first finished a book of yours in two sittings, I had formed a vague fantasy on how you looked like. You were a tall man, thin, long-necked, sharp-nosed, with a body slightly bent forward. Needless to say, I was stoked to find that description failed to perfectly describe who you were in person. I hope that with my new appearance, my description perfectly describes how your husband used to look as well. These black gloves just don’t fit me right.”

These black gloves…?

"Honey, I'm home!!! Oh, and Sigewinne's here too."

As soon as they heard the door open, (Y/n) shoved the fan's manuscript inside their drawer. Wriothesley hates seeing any semblance of creative writing inside the house.

"Can you brew two cups of tea for us?" Wriothesley asked as he removed his jacket, placing it recklessly on the sofa. "We're exhausted."

(Y/n) nodded. They never tell him how they make his tea. For a bottle weighing 8 fl oz, they'd take a rounded scoop of sunsettia powder to the pitcher and pour steamed 2% milk to whatever was the appropriate line. Once aerated for 3 seconds, they fill it with their macha mix with ¼’’ foam and ¾’’ more below the rim for the aesthetic. 

The process is not as difficult as it sounds, but they like withholding information. Why else won't friends and family know that they're a prolific writer, right?

"Sure. I'll be right back."

They left.

Their “husband” picked up the letter they hastily hid, a faint smile playing on his face.

Were you frightened after reading it? 

How did his favorite author react?

He wished he knew. But he’s no detective– he’s a present “degenerate”. He won’t find clues just by looking at the parchment. "Wriothesley" placed it back to where it was earlier and adjusted his black gloves to fit just right. 

“Wriothesley” glanced at Sigewinne with a giddy smile.

“So, do you think they liked my writing?”

"(P.S: I finally figured out how you make your coffee. It's 3 pumps of Fonta, 1 shot of espresso roast, chilled milk, and stirred with ice. This unique combination would've perplexed me if I didn't find out you made it out of spite. 

But it does taste good. I promise. After all, in the cold solitude of your sunless prison, I'll be the one brewing you coffee. May each sip be a reminder of my affection. The sun may be silent too in the Fortress, but maybe in there, you'll finally appreciate my warmth.")