#oh this thin that makes you happy? NOT ALLOWED until you do your Obligations

[gothushi]

Could you elaborate on the one look to make him kneel and him wanting to be slapped, please 👉👈 (thank you so much for sharing your thoughts by the way, oh my gosh!!💓💓)

writing submissive men is honestly my religion i’m more than happy to oblige🫶🏻🩷thank u!

cw: impact play (slapping), simon on his knees

Tonight’s been long, too long. You’ve sipped at your drink for an eternity now, just waiting for Simon to be done working the bar at Chez-Chez. Sat at a tall table in the corner of the room, you have a good view to keep your eyes on him. His own blues find your eyes plenty of times, giving you a wink, a cheeky smile or a smirk.

Another half hour later results in the rest of the patrons being told to leave, and as you pick at the polish on your nails standing outside the club Simon finally emerges with his coat tugged on, the late night air chilled from earlier rain.

“Hey sweetheart,” His hand finds yours, finger’s interlocking and his lips pressing a kiss to your forehead. You tilt your head up to meet his lips in a little kiss before beginning the walk to your apartment.

Keys jingle in the lock as you enter, door clicking shut behind you both, shuffling as you both toe off your shoes, slip your coats from your shoulders and hang them up on the hook on the wall. Simon busies himself with moving to the living room, a tired yawn escaping him as he sets his phone down on the coffee table and collapses onto the couch with a groan. You, however, eye him from the kitchen, standing by the counter. Carefully removing your rings, letting the jewelry clatter onto the countertop as your hungry eyes roam over his body.

His legs are spread, a long sleeved blue shirt adorning his body. It’s simple, but he wears it so well, the thin fabric of his shirt clinging to his chest and tummy. He’s reclined back, head tilted against the couch with his eyes closed as he notices the silence. An eye peeks open, head tilting in your direction as he grins, “What’re you staring at, hm?”

A similar smile paints your lips, the last of the jewelry on your hands gone, and your hands find the buckle of your belt instead. Maintaining eye contact with Simon, you slide it from the buckle, slowly taking it from the loops on your jeans, “Somethin’ pretty, that’s all,” is the coy response he gets. You both stare at each other for a solid fifteen seconds, your eyes narrowing a bit, hungrily tracing down his torso, and that’s all it takes for him to slide off the couch onto the floor. Knees part, hands on his thighs, his heart already starting to beat a bit faster.

“Well look at you..” You sigh happily, bare feet meeting carpet as you walk over to him. You take his previous spot on the couch, spreading your legs apart for him to settle between. Simon shuffles closer, a hand finding your thigh that you retaliate with a quiet “ah ah,” and he moves it back to his own thigh. Color blooms high on his cheeks as he stares up at you, eyes softening with a dazed look as your hand combs into his hair, “So handsome, y’know that?”

A little smile finds his lips, making him look boyish, sweet, not the crude, revenge hungry cop you know. His eyes flutter as your nails drag over his scalp, and he gives a soft exhale in response, relaxing more before you. With his eyes closed, he doesn’t see you moving your leg, not until your shin presses against the growing bulge in his jeans. Dazed eyes open again, a soft gasp as his hips kick back a little at the touch. But you tsk, fingers curling into his hair in a gentle yet firm grasp, “Easy.. I just wanna play, don’t you?”

The way you speak, your tone so low yet casual, has him reeling. After a long day, it’s easy for him to allow you to take over. “Yeah, please? Will you make me feel good?” And oh, how cute, right?

“Of course honey, I always do. Go on, move, slow.” The order doesn’t fall on deaf ears, his knees parting further as he presses into your leg. His cock already aches, pleasure blooming in his gut as he grinds against your leg. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it won’t last long, not when he’s already starting to blush a pretty red and his hands hover in the air on either side of your leg, fighting the urge to grab on for support. Simon squirms a bit, your hand tightening in his hair which makes his lips part, jaw dropping as he huffs a little moan. The entire time your eyes are locked together, and eventually a whimper falls from him.

“Can I–..” He starts, pausing to swallow and exhale through his nose, “Can I undo my jeans?” And he asks so politely, you surely couldn’t say no.

“Go on,” You nod, allowing him to pause his needy grinding. He doesn’t even break eye contact as he undoes his own belt, not even taking it from the belt loops as his fingers skillfully undo his button and zipper, sitting up on his knees just enough to push them down his hips. Black boxers do little to hide just how fucking hard he is, a little wet spot on the fabric. He presses back to you, grinding his cock against your shin, and this time his hands find your leg, holding onto your calf for support as he exhales another moan.

As pretty as he is, the action of his hands on you is displeasing, “Hands off, I never said you could touch.” The sharp words make him actually whine, huffing a pitiful noise as his eyes roll a little, even as he removes his hands. But, that attitude, you seen it. Before he knows it, the hand is gone from his hair as your palm connects with his left cheek in a sharp slap.

“Ah–!” Simon’s head snaps to the side, eyes fluttering as his thighs squeeze around your leg. Pure heat blooms on his face as he feels his cock throb in his boxers, so embarrassed by how nice that felt. “Do that again. Please,” is the pathetic plea that follows, his knees spreading again to continue grinding needily like a mutt in heat.

A laugh sounds from your throat, and you grab his cheeks with your thumb and two fingers, squishing his cheeks a bit to force him to look up at you, “And why should I? You like me hitting you Simon?”

His face is flushed deep red with embarrassment and arousal, starting to pant a little. His whiny voice quickly starts to beg, “I said please. I like it. Please?” His hips press even faster, feeling his core muscles ache just the slightest, pretty puppy eyes looking up at him. And ugh, he’s just so sweet, so pliant with you. Your grasp on his face is gone, and his eyes fall lidded with lust just before you hit him again. The slap echoes in the apartment, as does the cry he emits as a result. His hips falter and then roll even faster, jaw dropping as he starts to moan with every exhale of his panting breath.

“Again?”

“Again.” He confirms, having trouble keeping his eyes open but oh, does he do his best for you.

“Can you handle it baby?”

“I can– fuck I can handle it. Please.” Soft brown hair falls forward as he drops his head for a second, lifting it back up as he nods quickly in confirmation. So, you swap hands, palm meeting his right cheek in a weak little hit, enough to produce a sharp noise but not enough to really hit the spot, figuratively and literally. “Harder,” he pleads, his hands curling into the denim at his hips, needing to hold onto something. That heat in his core is building, hurriedly grinding against your leg, humping pathetically as he’s already so close, his cock aches so badly it hurts, desperately searching relief.

Again, and again, your palm meets his cheek, the skin ruddy red and sensitive, hot with an embarrassed flush as he cries out. Once more, and he gasps, thighs squeezing your leg as he moans loudly. A tremor wracks through him as he orgasms, eyes fluttering and rolling back into his head. Simon feels your hand curl into his hair, jerking his head up harshly. The natural response is to reach up, move to grab your arm because it hurts, but he quickly pauses and puts his hands back down because he knows better.

He’s sat before you on his knees, panting hard, shaking a little as his core muscles burn, and his teary eyes blink open. “‘m sorry, I–“

He’s interrupted by a sharp slap, harder than the rest. He gasps, feeling his mouth and cock both drool a little and oh God is he embarrassed, but he loves it. “You little pervert, I’m not done with you.” You hand grabs his cheeks again, making him look up at you.

And the only response is a breathless laugh, a big grin on his face.

[myherowritings]

PART 7. WHAT’S BETTER THAN EATING THE RICH? THE RICH EATING YOU OUT

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 4.7k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. the filthiest thing i’ve ever written, fem!reader for this part and shouto uses “princess” an excessive amount of times, sir kink i’m sorry, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (just bc i totally forgot abt condoms ok my bad), too much foreplay?, shouto’s a soft dom i think?, very much so 18+!!! and the title is exactly what it sounds like

A/N. here we are !! the final part !! my first shouto series i didn’t put on hiatus LMAO,, the moment you’ve all been waiting for HFSJKG ;) this was very fun to write i hope it’s not too bad BHFBDSHS i’m so in love with ceo!shouto and this series was my fav to write in a while!! now without further ado pls enjoy some smut with feelings :3 xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You almost didn’t make it into the elevator to Shouto’s penthouse before you wanted to pounce on him, but to your complete frustration, he was showing such restraint that the only contact he let you make was holding his hand. 

For someone who was so eager to kiss you earlier, he was showing a lot of patience now, you thought with a huff. 

You tapped your foot against the tile flooring as Shouto took his sweet time unlocking his suite. Even when he entered, instead of taking you straight to the bedroom like you anticipated, he pulled out two glasses and filled them with water. 

Handing you one, he asked, “Did you want something to eat?” 

“No. ‘M not hungry right now,” you mumbled, trying not to appear too pouty. 

Apparently, it didn’t work very well since he stifled an amused chuckle. “How about some water?” 

Your eyes narrowed but you begrudgingly accepted the glass. “Hmph.” 

“Someone seems a little tired right now, hmm?” he placed his glass down and led you towards his bedroom. “Maybe we should go straight to sleep—”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. “Shouto,” you whined, drawing out the ‘o’ sounds, your lower lip jutting outwards in a frown.

“Yes, Y/N?” His tone was too innocent for the events he had in mind for the night. 

“If you don’t take me to bed and fuck me right now, I’ll…”

“You’ll…?” Shouto teased, but the darkened gaze in his eyes told you his own restraint was wearing thin. 

You turned away with a huff. “I’ll be upset!” 

“Well, we don’t want that.” He laced his fingers through yours, bringing your hands up to his lips to give them a kiss. You were slightly placated, but that was still nowhere near the amount of contact you desired. “But I think you’d find it more comfortable if we continue this with your dress off first. Come.” 

Your stomach clenched at the simple command and you willfully followed behind him into the second door to the right. You hardly had time to admire the design of his room and size of his bed before Shouto moved from his spot next to you to one behind you. He placed one hand on where your waist met your hip and the other on the small of your back, making your spine straighten at the touch. 

“Did you need help taking your dress off?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. 

“Yes, please, sir,” was your airy reply. 

His breath caught in his throat and his grip on you tightened. When he spoke, his voice was hoarser than normal. “Since you asked so nicely.”

So, he liked when you called him sir? You made a mental note of that with a smirk. 

But your cocky expression didn’t last very long when Shouto skillfully unfastened the top few buttons of your dress, softly placing his lips on your now exposed skin and gently planting kisses all the way down your back. He didn’t stop until he reached the curve of your ass, unbuttoning the final button and nipping a kiss right at the base of your spine. You jolted, hugging the fabric of the dress to your chest so you wouldn’t be completely exposed. 

“Finished unbuttoning your dress for you, princess,” he said, placing one final kiss on your spine before gently twirling you around to face him. At your flustered gaze, he smiled. “Now what would you like for me to do to you?” 

You lifted your chin despite your slight embarrassment at having to voice your desires. “I want you to kiss me.”

“Hm. Have I not been kissing you this whole time?” 

“On the lips,” you emphasized, tugging at his tie as you tried to pull him closer to you. You batted your lashes at him. “Could you please kiss me on the lips, sir?” 

A small chuckle escaped him, but he was happy to oblige. “You know, you’d be good in business. You certainly know what to say to get what you want, hmm?”

You answered with a smile as he finally—fucking finally, after a whole week of waiting—pressed his lips against yours. They were soft and warm and tasted like strawberries and ice cream, his favorite flavor of the candies the two of you stole from the gala. 

Delicious. 

Shouto must’ve thought the same thing since, not long after the start of the kiss, he coaxed your mouth open with his tongue, deepening the movements, one hand softly cupping the area where your head met your neck while the other was hot against your exposed lower back. He applied the slightest bit of pressure at the right time—just enough to make you sigh in pleasure. 

Your own hands found a way to tangle themselves in Shouto’s hair, completely abandoning their job clutching your dress to your body. Now, you were so tightly pressed up against him, the only thing that could possibly keep the fabric up was his chest against your own. One sudden movement and it might just…  

He nipped at your lower lip with his teeth and you jumped, gasping at how good the light stinging sensation felt. You felt your dress slip down your body to expose the swell of your breasts, but before it could fall any further, Shouto gingerly picked you up and laid you down on his bed. 

“Oh—” you managed to say as your head landed on a pillow and your back on the plush, silk sheets that covered the mattress.

His left arm rested on the pillow beside your head as he hovered over you. “Have something to say, princess?”

“Y-You may continue,” you sniffed, lifting your chin up. Your heart skipped a beat at the teasing pet name and then another beat when Shouto leaned down to give you a kiss. But instead of landing on your mouth again, he chose to leave an open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive part of your neck, gently biting and sucking at the skin. 

His feathery light touches tickled you, your nerves working on overdrive and every stroke feeling like it was amplified. You couldn’t help but giggle at his soft nibble and he paused to look at you questioningly. 

“Tickles,” you replied, laughing at his confused expression. “But it feels nice.”

Shouto hummed, the vibrations buzzing against your neck. “That’s good to hear.”

Returning to your lips, he kissed you with a smile creeping on his face and you returned it. His forehead rested against yours as you toyed with the fabric on the front of his suit. You unknotted his tie as your lips clashed against each other, the motion no longer soft and gentle but instead more fervent and intense. 

Finally getting his tie to come undone, you flung it off the bed and worked to unbutton his shirt collar, not caring if it got wrinkled in the process. Shouto reciprocated the eagerness by sucking the tip of your tongue with his mouth before pulling away from you completely. 

A whimper left your lips at the sudden loss of warmth and you couldn’t help but pout, grabbing at his shirt again to pull him back.

“Be a good girl and be patient, okay?” he said, running the tip of his index finger against your jawline. 

You huffed. “I’ve been plenty patient. I want you to do something now!” 

In other times, you’d probably be embarrassed about how whiny you sounded, but at this moment all you wanted was for Shouto to finally touch you more. 

He nipped at your collarbone before looking down at you. “Hm. Are you a princess or a brat?”

“I can be both. I’m very multifaceted,” you said haughtily, sticking your tongue out to let him know you were only joking. 

“You are,” he agreed. 

It seemed Shouto decided to finally listen to your pleas since his attention swiftly returned to that of your neck, dragging his lips down until he reached the swell of your breast. Over the fabric of your dress that was barely clinging onto you, he placed wet, open-mouthed kisses over your chest, his teeth accidentally grazing against your nipple. 

You cried out quietly and he felt encouraged by the sound, this time taking your peak into his mouth with purpose. He formed his mouth into the shape of an ‘o’ and softly sucked your nipple, the tip of his tongue making circles around the bud. His saliva wet the fabric of your dress, leaving you to shiver at the cold against your wet breast when he pulled away from you. 

“S-Shouto,” you whimpered, squeezing your legs together to relieve some of the tension. “More.”

“More? What exactly do you mean by that?” 

“I want you to…” You gestured towards your body. 

“To what? Take your dress off and fuck you? Or just continue playing with your breasts?” he asked, listing off suggestions in a low rasp. He kissed below your chest and down your stomach all the way to your navel. “Or maybe you want me to go lower until I reach that pretty pussy of yours.”

You nodded fervidly, not trusting your voice. “A-All of the above?”

He chuckled in amusement but was ready to dutifully continue his work.

“But…” you murmured, running your hands down his half-unbuttoned shirt. “I want to see you too.” You looked down at his crotch area then back at his face, biting your lip nervously. “And I want to make sure you’re also having a good time.” 

A guttural noise sounded from the back of his throat as he ran his hands down your body, giving you an appreciative look. “I’m having the best time.” He kissed you chastely. “Are you?”

You looked like a mess sprawled out on his bed, dress half hanging onto your chest and the fabric of the skirt only covering one of your legs. You didn’t know for sure the state of your hair and makeup, but you were sure it was thoroughly roughed up as well. “I think it’s quite obvious I am, sir.” 

Shouto smirked, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “Good.” 

Instead of answering him, you brought your fingers to the lower-half of his shirt, unfastening the final buttons and untucking it from his suit pants. His shirt hung open, exposing his lean yet muscular torso. You ran your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, absentmindedly brushing against his nipples which caused him to shiver. When you reached his collar, you threw the fabric behind his shoulders and he got the message to take his shirt off. 

“So pretty,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Your turn.” Slowly, Shouto slid down the silky fabric that was just barely covering your breasts all the way to your navel. He tapped your thigh and said, “Up,” and you immediately obliged, lifting your lower body up so he could remove the dress completely. 

Taking his sweet time—much to your frustration—he folded the dress and placed it on a dresser near his bed. When he turned his gaze back to you, you were holding your arms over your chest, feeling bare in nothing but your panties with sheer detailings. 

His stare burned holes into you. You felt like his gaze was leaving a trail of fire against your skin. Shouto’s expression looked sensual but soft as he admired you, giving you enough confidence to lay your arms down by your sides instead of over your chest. He zeroed in on your breasts as he gave them a kiss. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered and your cheeks burst into flames. Your whole body felt hot as you folded one leg over the other so he couldn’t see the arousal gathering at your thin undergarments.

Noticing the movement, he raised a brow at you and uncrossed your legs with his large but slender hand, his grip firm on your thigh to prevent you from covering yourself like that again. Shouto pressed one of your thighs into the bed with his palm, and your other thigh with the gentle weight of his knee, holding your legs open for him. 

The cool air from his room hit your wetness seeping through your underwear and you felt yourself clench around nothing. 

You shifted under his weight, desperate for some release. “Shouto, please.”

It seemed he no longer had the restraint to tease you further since he nodded, moving lower down the bed so his face was hovering above your clothed pussy. “May I?” 

“Fuck— Yes,” you moaned, core heating up in anticipation. 

Shouto landed his lips on your fabric-covered cunt, licking a stripe across your slit. Your growing arousal mixed with his spit through your panties, a lewd noise sounding when he pried the fabric away from your pussy. He slid them off your legs, holding it up to examine the arousal slick on the garments. As if he had no shame, he politely folded it and placed it on top of your dress with a smile. 

“T-That’s not what a gentleman would do,” you managed as he returned to his position in bed in front of your now-bare cunt. 

“And what is it that a gentleman would do, princess?” he whispered dangerously close to your most intimate parts. “This?”

Without warning, he tenderly kissed the bud between your legs. You moaned, legs attempting to kick out in surprise and pleasure, but they remained immobile since Shouto held them down in place. 

“Or perhaps this?” Shouto ran his tongue down your folds and back up to your clit, rubbing small and steady figure eights against the sensitive nub. 

“Yes!” you cried out, canting your hips towards his mouth in pleasure. “Oh, god— Yes to all of it. Please… Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t.” He hummed as he continued his ministrations on your pussy, the vibrations shooting right up your core and causing more wetness to seep out onto his face, but he didn’t let that bother him. In fact, it only seemed to encourage him further. 

Not removing his mouth from your clit for even a second, Shouto hooked one of your legs over his shoulder while leaving the other flat against the silky sheets of his mattress. He dragged his opened mouth down to your dripping pussy lips and entered into your slit with his tongue. The new position sent ever more waves of euphoria through you and Shouto licked and sucked at your folds. 

You lifted your hips higher and he nuzzled his head deeper, his tongue reaching places you had only ever imagined. The lewd noises of Shouto’s mouth smacking against your slick cunt filled the quiet room. As you moaned, your hands threaded themselves into the base of his hair, lightly tugging him even closer than either of you thought possible. 

With his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh down, Shouto found his way to your chest, reaching up to palm at your breast all while still sucking your pussy. He flicked your nipple and gently rubbed it with his thumb and forefinger. Your breathing hitched at the mix of sensations, your core tightening and heating up as Shouto continued to eat you out. “Fuck— Oh— Shouto!” you cried, unable to hold back the volume of your voice. 

As if he knew what was coming, he removed his hand from your breast and briefly paused, though his face was still resting against your thigh and pussy. “Not yet, princess. Do you think you can hold on for me?” 

You whimpered at the thought of postponing your release, but you trusted that he would make up for the wait. “Okay, sir. For you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Shouto continued his attack on your cunt with his lips, this time bringing his hand down to rub lazy circles around your clit. His tongue was deep in you, his nose teasingly bumping against your sensitive bud as his fingers flicked against it harsher. Rougher. He nuzzled his head from side to side to hit places far within you as you whimpered and moaned. 

The stimulation of both his fingers and his mouth on your pussy was almost too much to handle as your thighs quivered and your cunt clenched uncontrollably. 

“S-Shouto, please I—” Your voice broke off as a moan of pleasure ripped through you. 

“You can come now, princess,” he murmured into your folds, the vibrations only pleasuring you even further. 

And so you did. 

You felt yourself orgasm as Shouto continued to suck at your cunt and brush against your clit, moving slower and more gently as you came down from your high. 

When he finally looked up from your pussy, the lower half of his face glistened with your fluids, sending you into another state of desire. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you want more of him. 

Shouto smiled as he wiped the fluids of your arousal and ecstacy on his chin with his index finger. Instead of taking it into his mouth, however, he held it in front of your lips. “Look at the mess you made for me, princess. See how good you taste.” 

After only a moment’s hesitation, you brought his finger that was coated in your arousal into your mouth, swirling your tongue around and sucking him, giving him an idea of what you would do if that were his cock. You released his finger with a soft ‘pop’ and smiled innocently at him. 

“Are you going to fuck me now or should I suck you off first, sir?” you asked, tone of voice all too pleasant. 

His bulge strained against the snug fit of his pants and you wanted nothing more than to relieve some of his pressure. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to take my cock into your mouth, but right now I just want to feel you around me. Is that okay?” 

“That’s fine with me!” You nodded eagerly, the thought of being filled up with Shouto now taking over your mind completely. 

He chuckled at your excitement, though he was feeling the same thing himself. Swiftly, he removed his belt and took off his suit pants. You helped by tugging his black boxer briefs down and watching gently stroking his erect shaft in awe. 

Was every part of Shouto pretty? He was just a gift that kept on giving. 

Your mouth almost watered in anticipation, biting your lip as he lowered you back against the mattress, your head falling onto the plush pillows. He positioned his member against your slit that was still dripping wet from his spit and your first orgasm. 

Shouto rubbed his tip against your already sensitive clit and your slightly parted folds, not yet entering deep enough to satisfy you. He moved his cock back and forth against your pussy as you both watched, the fluids of your arousal and his mixing for further lubrication. Your eyes were fixated on the sight, the thick head of his member disappearing into your sopping pussy lips before coming back out, slowly getting you prepared for his full length. 

It was sweet of him to be so patient, but you were on the verge of tears at the frustration you felt. “Please, Shouto! More.” 

“What should you call me again, princess?” he drawled, continuing the leisure movements of rubbing his head against your lips. The fluids smeared all over your pussy and dribbled down onto your thighs and his bedsheets. If you weren’t so aroused, you might’ve been a bit embarrassed. But there was no time for that when all you wanted at this very moment was for Shouto to fuck you silly. 

“Sir—!” you corrected yourself in a whimper. “Please, sir, I want your fat cock to fill me up.” 

He groaned at your words, pulling out of your folds until only the very tip of his dick was touching you and then thrusting forward into your wet depths as you let out a loud cry of pleasure. You felt a stretch inside you as you adjusted to his length, Shouto taking note of how you stiffened and giving you time to get more comfortable. 

He began to nibble at your breast, sucking and biting your perk nipples as your arousal built. He nipped you, causing you to gasp in surprise (a very pleasant surprise) before soothing the bite with his tongue. As you arched your back, he swirled the tip of his tongue around your nipple and you hooked your leg around his hips, pushing into his lower back with your calf to signal for more.

“Ready now?” 

You nodded fervently. 

“Words, princess.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” you managed, voice shaky from your gratification being filled by Shouto. “Use my pussy to make you feel good. Please.”

“You always make me feel good, Y/N,” he said sincerely, removing his mouth from your breast to kiss you on the lips. Your tongues intertwined and you tasted yourself on him. “You’re amazing, you know?” 

You smiled into the kiss. “Show me how amazing you think I am with your cock then.”

“Anything for my princess.”

With that, he pounded into you, holding you at the waist to steady your squirming. You hitched your leg higher and higher around his back, canting your hips to let him thrust into you at deeper angles until he hit the spot. 

“Oh—! Oh, god,” you mewled in satisfaction, his cock making you feel so good you were certain your eyes almost rolled back into your head. “Fuck, right there, Shouto— Yes!” 

At your vocal encouragement, Shouto pushed into you even deeper, his swollen tip rubbing into you at the perfect angle. Your head lolled to the side and your cheek pressed against the soft pillow as you salivated at the intense feeling of his cock thrusting in and out of your weeping pussy. 

“Mn,” he made a noise, softly tapping your cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Don’t look away.” 

You struggled to blink away how dazed you felt, feeling so good it was almost unbearable. Somehow, you managed to turn your head back to face him, trying to hold eye contact. “‘M sorry. You feel so good,” you sighed contentedly. “Like your cock was made for me.” 

He held your leg higher and you just about screamed from pleasure. “You feel so good too,” he said, one hand stretching your leg up and the other reaching down to toy with your clit. “Never want this to end.” 

With his fingers and thumb rubbing against your clit and his member hitting your g-spot, you were certain your throat was going to grow hoarse by the end of the night from all your screaming. You swore you saw stars.

“Want to,” you panted, thrusting your hips up to match his movements, “do this...with you...every...day.” 

“Please.”

When his lips found your breast again to tug at your nipple, you couldn’t help yourself any longer. 

“S-Shouto, I— I’m going to come,” you told him, voice pleading. You really hoped he let you come. 

He hummed in agreement. “Me too. Come with me, princess.” 

You lifted his head from your breasts to meet your mouth, kissing into him as you both felt the sweet release of pleasure coursing through your bodies, all the way from the top of your head to the curl of your toes. 

His pace slowed as he carried the two of you through your highs. Shouto removed his finger from its position of making circles onto your clit to let you cool down with him. In a state of euphoria, you kissed him, both of you riding your orgasms until you felt nothing but completely happy and thoroughly satiated. 

Still not taking his lips off of yours, he moved from being on top of you to lying beside you. Your eyes fluttered shut even as you kissed, nuzzling into his hot, sticky body and ready to pass out. 

“‘M sleepy,” you mumbled onto his lips. You just wanted to stay like this. Forever if you could. 

Shouto smoothed down your brow, his thumb moving in gentle strokes. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, princess. Then you can sleep.”

The rational part of you knew it would be best to clean up. But your overwhelming desire was simply to never let go of him. “Wait! I still want you.” Lazily, you murmured, “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re about to fall asleep but you want to have another round?”

You nodded. “I...might fall asleep during it, but yes. Want to do it with you again and again.”

Shouto smiled, shaking his head in amusement. But you pouted. It wasn’t a joke, you meant it. You just wanted to stay by his side. 

“We can,” he said and you instantly brightened up, “another day.” You huffed. “When you can stand on your own two feet without falling over.”

Your lower lip jutted out in a frown. 

“Don’t look so down, princess.” He kissed the top of your head. “It can be tomorrow or the next day.”

Slowly, you perked up again. “Or the day after that? And the next day after that?”

With a laugh, he nodded. “Anytime you want me. I’m yours.”

“I’ll always want you, Shouto,” you told him sincerely, gazing into his eyes.

His face was colored a light pink, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his lips were swollen and bright red. He looked beautiful. It was a sight you’d never tire of.

“I’ll always want you too, Y/N. More than anything. I...love you.”

And in that moment, there was nothing else in the world you would rather hear. No one else you’d rather be with. You were happy to have Shouto and that was better than all the money in the world.

“I love you too.”

— ✩ —

A few days have passed since the fateful night you exchanged ‘I love you’s with Shouto and now you were back at work. 

As usual, you were working the morning shift with some cranky customers, trying your best to make the start of their day go as smoothly as possible. And, as per usual, Shouto walked into the cafe a few minutes after rush hour to spend a part of his morning with you.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you today?” you said teasingly, giving him a brief kiss over the counter, chaste enough that no one else would notice but you two. 

“Morning, princess.” He smiled. “I’ll have a medium flat white, please.” 

“Of course. And could I interest you in some of our fresh pastries?” you laughed. “Oddly enough, we have your favorite today.”

He perked up at your words. “Cheese danishes?” 

“Yup!”

“I’ll have five boxes of a dozen, please.”

Humming to yourself, you entered his order into the register and told him the price. “Your order will be to your left when it’s completed,” you recited, knowing he’s heard this plenty of times before. After he paid and got ready to walk away from the counter, you playfully called out, “So, no tip this time?”

Shouto smirked, glancing back at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Maybe I can pick you up tonight and give you a tip then.”

“A...tip?” you asked, stifling a giggle behind your hands. “Was that an innuendo?”

“Innuendo—?” A look of realization crossed his face and his cheeks colored. 

You grinned to yourself. As confident and well put together Shouto could be (which you very much enjoyed and found incredibly attractive), you also got extreme pleasure in seeing him blush and grow flustered. 

“No… I didn’t intend it like that.” He paused, thinking on it. “Well, I guess I did. But I didn’t mean to make a pun of it…”

Your laughter rang out across the whole store, smile spreading bigger and bigger. “You’re cute, Shouto. Thanks for the laugh.” 

He looked sheepish but nodded. “Thanks for letting me hear your laugh. It’s radiant.”

“Smooth talker.” You stuck your tongue out. 

“Just the truth.”

“Hmm,” you sighed happily, a feeling of contentment and euphoria settling within you. “But about your tip…”

Shouto blushed. 

“I’d love to come over tonight,” you told him. “Any excuse to see my lovely boyfriend.”

“You never need an excuse to see me. Because I always want to be with you too.” 

The two of you kissed again, unable to help yourselves. Though it was brief and light, it still sent tingles down your spine. 

Shouto was sweeter than any cheese danish or chocolate croissant you could ever make, better than any tip you could ever receive, and you couldn’t wait to continue your life with him. 

a/n: omg...this is the end ╥﹏╥ thank you to every who read and commented and sent asks and just supported this series in general ! it was very fun to write and i have a toothache from all of shouto’s sweetness and fluff hfjhggg tysm for reading ily !! xx sof 

[blindingdutchy]

Hey, how's your day going? I hope good? Look I'm constantly thinking about water and Tom, like how beautiful is he in water, all wet and well... hot!? Could you please write something about Tom x reader in water? Like bathtub, pool, lake whatever? Tbh I need smut, don't judge me it's been a while 😄 Anyways, could he just fuck me nice and gently and then rough and fast just to be again very gentle at the end or afterwards? Hope you'll feel inspired and do something with it. :)

please this made me so happy wtf

summer nights | t.holland

{tom x fem!reader}

word count: 2,861

warnings: you already know… smut

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), fingering, alcohol

“Can we stay here forever?”

Tom’s eyes were sparkling and hazy as he admired you, a wan smile stretching minutely across his face. His teeth practically glowed in the moonlight, and for a brief moment your breath hitched as you gazed at him. He was too beautiful for his own good. “I really wish we could.” he hummed a quiet response.

The night was silent apart from the faint ripple of water that lapped around the two of you, soft billows of steam wafting from the surface and fading away into the air. Tom’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingers slipping and sliding across your bare skin as he struggled to keep hold in his slightly intoxicated state. In his other hand was a corona, the glass bottle dripping slow, cold raindrops of condensation into the warm pool—he brought the bottle to his lips and skulled the rest of it before clinking it onto the concrete behind him.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy your impromptu vacation as much as you were, because things generally always went wrong whenever the two of you tried to be spontaneous, but so far things had gone swimmingly. The condo he’d rented was just as private and secluded as it had advertised, no work emergencies had interrupted the sudden holiday on either of your behalves, and even the weather had been cooperatively perfect. Hot, sunny day after day, followed by warm, clear, moonlit nights—you felt as if you could see every star in the sky from here.

None of them compared to the stars in Tom’s eyes, though. Here, in this impeccably warm and deep pool, it was just the two of you; no friends or family, no work or other obligations, no fans… just two lovers wrapped up in the serenity of total, blissful privacy. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other.

Only on that first day had you ventured to the beach, but the excursion had been short lived to say the least. One look at you in your bikini, your skin positively radiant under the summer sun, and he’d been sweating. Your smile had been absolutely dazzling as you laughed and played around gleefully, splashing in the churning waves that crashed ashore, and he could barely hold himself back from taking you right then and there—innocent bystanders be damned.

Since then you’d spent the majority of your time in bed. Or, alternatively, on the balcony, the plush sofas of the patio, the hard concrete that surrounded the pool, the granite countertops of the kitchen, the shower, and that glorious hot tub. Oh, the hot tub had been your favorite by far—steaming hot water only contested only by steamier kisses across your skin, Tom’s scorching breath and searing words moaning down your ear…

It had turned into a bit of an unspoken mission to have each other in every place that allowed. All that remained was the furniture of the living room, the small dining table, and the pool. The pool which you were submerged in now, your legs wrapped around Tom and his hand gripping your waist tightly, fingers occasionally brushing over the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. As your thoughts drifted further south, your legs tightened around him.

Tom was leaning his head back against the ledge of the pool, his eyes closed and his breathing slow as he relaxed into the warm water. The relaxation didn’t last for long, though, as you leaned forward and trailed a slow line of kisses down his throat. His breathing sharpened, and you whispered, “Tommy, we haven’t tried the pool yet.”

He blinked down at you, his warm brown eyes taking a moment to focus on your face that was just barely illuminated from the pool lights and the soft beams of the moon. “Oh, really?” he murmured, and his irises darkened at the way you sucked at the skin of his neck teasingly slow, “I think we’ll have to change that.”

It didn’t take long for him to take control. He never did like to let you call the shots, and you weren’t opposed to submitting to his whims; he knew how to please you better than anyone ever had before, sometimes even better than you knew how to treat yourself. Each desire that coursed within him was the same ache that throbbed within your pulse points, the same pang that always sparked to life in your core each time he touched you. You longed for him, all of him, always.

Sliding you further around his waist, Tom turned until he’d backed you into the wall of the pool and his steadily growing length was rutting lazily into your center. Your mind was spinning with the dull stimulation, and you hissed as the rough, painted concrete irritated the old scrapes on your back from when the two of you had checked off the concrete patio on your list. That had been a fun time—rough and messy, just how you liked it, but you’d sorely regretted it the moment a hot shower had seared the little abrasions on your skin.

“I love this bikini on you,” Tom whispered, trailing one finger along the damp shell of fabric that covered your breast, “but I think I like it better off.” You barely noticed the deft way the fingers of his other hand were steadily working to untie your top, until the scrap slipped away from your skin and you were exposed fully to the cold air. “Definitely better off.”

Your nipples hardened into stiff peaks instantaneously, the slightly cooler night air chilling you and erupting goosebumps along your flesh. It was nothing compared to the shivers that wracked your body as Tom’s lips finally found one of your pebbled buds, sucking languidly and swirling his tongue around it with a quiet groan. Your hands clung to his back and you threw your head back with a moan, already succumbing to the persistent throbbing between your legs with the first touch. He brought something out of you, a secret insatiable side of you that always wanted more. And now? As he reached a slightly pruned hand up to slick his wet, stretched curls from his face to get a better look at you? You were ravenous.

He looked like a god. His skin was bronzed to perfection, only amplifying the desirous way he glistened under the moon and stars, and you wished this moment could last forever. You wanted to take it all in, commit it all perfectly to memory, and never let it go. The way his arms rippled with strength as he held you tighter, the taught stretch of skin over his abdomen that tightened the more aroused he became, and the plump swell of his lips that deepened with each kiss he placed on your body. All of it was artwork in your eyes.

“Tom,” you breathed, arching your back as he continued to focus all his attention to the deep bruise he was creating with his lips just beneath your breast, “I need you, now.”

His tongue soothed over the mark he’d left, and he admired it briefly before turning his gaze onto your face. “You’re insatiable, darling.” he cooed, and you were done for. Tom’s eyes were all pupil with almost no discernable ring of honey brown left to be seen, and his lips were parted to make way for the sinful swipe of his tongue. He knew exactly what he did to you, the way he turned you into a total fiend for him, and fuck if he wasn’t much the same for you.

You’d always known you’d had a high sex drive, but he took you to another level. No time, no place, nothing at all was off limits for the two of you. Plans got cancelled, events skipped, and hidden corners and locked rooms were abused when it came to your needs. “You make me this way.” you retorted, and he grinned.

Lips met in a flurry, sloppy and wet with muffled groans as your teeth clashed roughly. The rapacious pace of your kisses contrasted with the slow, careful precision of Tom’s hands. One large, smooth palm groped at your ass with a skill that had you trembling, while the other leisurely traced a path down your body to your most desiring destination. Fingers ghosted along the swell of your breast, feathered down the length of your stomach, before tugging at the waistband of your bottoms.

Not wanting to lose his embrace, you blustered, “Just untie them, please.”

String bikinis were a godsend. He made quick pace of the knots you’d tied that morning, hissing curses to himself as he fumbled the strings and struggled slightly to undo them, “Shit, darling, did you double knot them?” With a growl of annoyance, he pulled hard until the thin bands finally snapped apart, “Fucking hell.”

In an instant his fingers were dipping into you, stretching you open with a desperate fervency. It stung a little, a dull ache permeating the pleasure, but that was to be expected. Not only were you sore from the gluttonous appetite the pair of you had had over the past week, but you were in water—it always made things a little more difficult. No matter how wet you were, water always made it feel just a little like rubber on rubber; sticking and straining, pulling a little uncomfortably with the resistance.

His thumb rubbing circles into your clit helped, though. He scissored and curled his fingers within your walls repeatedly, chasing after the little noises that escaped your lips when he moved just right. Before long, with the combination of his friction on your nub and his deep plunge through your entrance, your grip around him was tightening. The coil in your belly was white hot, heating up and just aching to explode.

“Gonna cum?” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to yours as you wrapped your body tighter around his. His fingers were fighting against the tight grip of your cunt, and you nodded with an airy gasp, “Come on, then. Cum on my fingers, (Y/N).”

As your name slipped from his mouth, you cried out. The coil in your belly snapped, your legs spasming at the sudden rush of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut and you clenched around him, moaning at the way he continued to flex his digits through the steady pulse of your walls. His thumb was still circling your bundle, albeit more jerkily, and you were panting as you tried to come down from the high that seemed to never end.

After a few seconds you gripped his wrist, pleading, “S-stop, too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped his assault, his fingers pulling out of you slowly and his mouth sucking at your neck. You could feel his erection digging into you, his hips subconsciously rutting into you, and he asked quietly, “Do you want to keep going?”

Nodding, you wound your fingers into the sopping curls at the base of his skull and cautioned, “Yeah, just be gentle, please.”

Tom hummed under his breath, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind your ear as he rocked his hips into you with more intention. You were dragging your hands over his skin slowly, digging your nails into all the places you knew riled him up the most, and your legs were still trembling slightly when he reached one arm down to fumble with his shorts. The garment floated away as he peeled it fully from his legs with the help of his feet.

Lining himself up, he peered up at you with quirked brows, “Ready?”

You pulled his face down to yours, nodding silently before you kissed him. This time it was tender and slow, your puffy lips molding together delicately in a lazy pace. He poked his tip through your entrance slowly, and you hissed at the initial intrusion. The water made it uncomfortable, making it feel as though he were actually going in dry, but the further he pushed the better it felt.

He rocked into you slowly, his nails digging into the skin of your bum as he restrained himself from taking you in one hard thrust like he always did. Slow and steady wasn’t exactly Tom’s preferred style. You were grateful, though, that he took care to move with caution and gave you time to adjust. His face was buried into your neck, his lips pressing a flurry of barely there kisses to your skin, and you shivered at the rapid puffs of his labored breathing on your body.

Tapping his shoulder to give him the okay to move, you whined at the first draw back. He pulled his hips back slowly, the length of his shaft dragging against your walls gratingly, and you whimpered when he pushed forward again just as deliberately. The normal slip of your arousal wasn’t there like it normally was, but when his tip plunged to that deep point that always made your body spark, you moaned.

Tom took your sounds for what they were and built up a steady pace, languidly fucking into you with choked grunts of restraint. The water was rippling around you, slapping gentle waves over the two of you with each motion, and you arched into him needily. “Tom, faster.” you begged, and he obliged.

His next thrust was harsher, his hips snapping into yours earning a high mewl from you. “Fucking love the sounds you make,” he growled, repeating the motion and groaning against your skin. His thrusts deepened with every push and pull, and before long your back was gritting into the concrete and you were crying out loud sounds mixed with pain and pleasure.

You loved this rough, aggressive side of him. The ache in your gut that always followed served as a loving reminder of the way he made you feel. The arcs of pleasure that radiated through your body each time he bruised into your spot, the slight sting of his nails and teeth biting into your skin, the deep bruises from his lips that lingered for weeks; you loved all of it. Your scraped up back was crying for mercy, though, but you ignored it.

Reaching a hand down, you toyed with your clit messily and relished in the guttural moan that tore up his throat. His eyes were trained on the space between you where he continued to disappear into your core, and watching you touch yourself always pushed him over the edge. “Shit,” he choked, “darling, ‘m not gonna last with you doing that.”

Kissing his shoulder, you whimpered, “I know, I want you to cum, Tommy.”

Your toes were curling as you circled your nub faster in time with his thrusts, and you clenched your eyes shut as you began to suck and bite at his skin. Tom was a moaning mess, his hips faltering slightly as you bit into him particularly hard, but he pushed on like his life depended on it. Your back was searing with pain from the way he rammed you into the pool wall over and over, your eyes rolling back at his brutal pace.

You were close, and as if he could sense it, Tom squeezed your ass and rutted into you harder than ever. “So close,” he whimpered, and you rubbed your clit with more conviction, “I wanna feel you cum f’me.”

With one last drawn out cry, your fingers stilled over your throbbing bundle and you shattered around him. All you could focus on was the sound of his ragged breathing and desperate pleas that barely rose above the crash of the water, your mind going blank in ecstasy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Tom gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, his hips stilling against yours as he pulsed within you.

His length throbbed against your walls, the hot spurts of his cum stinging slightly as you continued to clench around him. Your head lolled against his shoulder as you panted, the heavy rise and fall of your chest matching the heave of his. Tom pulled out of you with a hiss, and you whined into his ear as he shuddered, “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Don’t look down,” he stammered, and you giggled, “I’ve never shrank so fast in my life, and… fuck, where are my shorts?”

You squeezed him tighter as you laughed, your fingers carding sleepily into his slowly air drying curls. “Tommy, you really think I care? Just take me inside, please, let’s go to bed.” You chortled, and he sighed a shaky laugh of his own.

He raked a hand through his hair and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, slowly easing you off of him as you shuddered. The water really was getting cold; a glance around showed that the steam was no longer billowing into the air. The heater must have turned off. When he craned his head to look for his shorts, you risked a peek and sputtered, “Wow, you weren’t kidding—“

“Hey! I told you not to look!”

[ddarker-dreams]

Contractual Obligations II. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Unwanted physical contact, general yandere themes. Word count: 2.2k. →Part I. 

The sound of heavy, wooden doors shutting behind you feels like a premonition of what is to come. 

Fiddling with your skirt, your eyes dart around, taking in Liyue’s signature rich architecture. Fatui building or not, they still must abide by Liyue’s aesthetic. You thought being surrounded by your home’s design would bring solace. Warm shades of mahogany with gold motifs are illuminated by paper lanterns, giving a glow that would be otherwise pleasant, if not for the circumstances. 

You had anticipated a long wait. Ekaterina, upon hearing your name, informed that you would be seen without delay. The others in the lobby of Northland Bank grumbled at this, much to your embarrassment. It’s no secret that getting appointments here is a time-consuming endeavor. Sailors, business owners, and Qixing’s personal assistants alike had to wait. 

For whatever reason, you were allowed to skip ahead of the queue. The glaring special treatment is bound to spread rumors. Now, here you stand, unable to quell your nerves. This is no different than strolling into a ravenous lion’s den. The vulnerability you feel now makes you wish you were facing a carnivorous beast, at least then you might have hope to defend yourself. 

Even with the unexpected privilege of not waiting in the lobby, you’ve been standing here in this private room for a while now. Thirty minutes is your guess, impatience creeping up on you. Your shoulders slump, a sigh leaving your lips. There’s lots of work to be done when you’re done here, time a precious resource. Wasting it to get answers from the blight on your life is infuriating. 

Figures, the one time you need to speak with Childe, he’s nowhere to be seen. Every other time he’d show up at the least opportune moments. He has a habit of appearing uninvited and ruining what would’ve been a pleasant day. Lost in thought, you consider all that must be done when you return to your parent’s shop, too occupied with your thoughts to notice a looming figure. Two hands go out to cover your eyes, the world suddenly going dark. Heart pounding against your chest, the touch is too unexpected, heat rising in your body as protection.

“Guess who?” Childe hums into your ear with a singsong tone. His scent reminds you of the ocean, fresh and light. 

You frown, noticing how close he is to you, his chest pressed against your back. Does Childe not know what personal space is? “The source of my problems.” 

He lets out a scandalized gasp and slinks in front of you. Childe boasts a lighthearted demeanor, mirth dancing in his eyes, and a tight-lipped smile on his face. Inauthentic as ever, you note. You’ve seen what lays dormant behind the thin veil of boyish charm. The infinite darkness that you never wish to see again. He’s still closer to your person than you’d prefer, but pointing it out won’t do any good, so you decide to overlook it. Picking your battles wisely is vital when speaking with Childe.

“Is that the greeting I get, after rushing all the way here?” Childe sighs. Before you could respond, you notice a new scent in the air, unmistakably leather. It takes you a moment to identify the source. A thin, wispy trail of smoke rises from Childe’s leather gloves that had been touching you just prior. Does that not hurt? Childe catches you staring and laughs. 

“So you didn’t notice,” Childe sounds amused, lifting his hands to inspect them. Raising his hands to his mouth, he bites the tip of his gloves and pulls them off. “Looks like I caught you.” 

He nods to your necklace which is tucked beneath your blouse, scarlet light shining through the fabric. Instinctually, you cover it with your hand, the jewel warm to the touch. Childe’s abrupt physical touch had activated your Vision. It’s only when you take a few deep breaths that the telling glow fades away, but the damage is already done. Did he plan this on purpose? Whatever the case may be, Childe is the last person you want having this information.

Sensing your apprehension, he speaks up. “Relax, I already assumed as much, but my interest is undeniably piqued. Why hide your Vision? This isn’t Inazuma, I was under the impression Visions were revered in Liyue.” 

You don’t owe Childe an explanation, but your intuition tells you he’s not going to let this go anytime soon. This isn’t what you came here for, you remind yourself. Don’t let him distract you.

“It’s a long story,” comes your dismissive answer, glancing around to see if anyone else had seen, even though it’s only you two in here. “Can I talk about what I came here for, please?” 

Childe closes his eyes, humming while considering your proposition. Instead of walking behind the desk in the room, he sits on a bench against the wall, motioning for you to come over. At your blatant hesitation, he decides to pester you, which doesn’t come as a shock. 

“What’s up with that look? There’s plenty of room,” Childe pats the spot next to him for extra emphasis. A dangerous twinkle shines in his eyes with a mischievous smile to match it. “Though, I wouldn’t complain should you come to sit on my lap instead.” 

Your cheeks flush brightly, a weak glare being sent his way which he laughs at. “I would never…” 

“Sure, sure. Come over already, it’s the least you could do, considering you just scorched a pair of my favorite gloves.” Childe’s carefree tone doesn’t match his scolding words, stretching out his arm on the back of where you were supposed to sit. Gingerly stepping over the smoking gloves on the floor, you wonder if it’s somehow a fire hazard, but assume Childe’s Hydro Vision could put it out if need be. You stop just short of sitting down, gnawing on your bottom lip at this new internal dilemma. Glaring daggers at his outstretched arm doesn’t seem to faze him. 

“The offer still stands.” He teases, leading you to huff and take your seat by him. You try to ignore the close physical proximity, but it’s rather difficult, as your thighs are touching. Is this a common theme for Snezhnayans? Why is Childe so needlessly touchy? Maybe you don’t want to know. Childe drums his fingers, staring at you with dangerous intent. 

You’ve wasted enough time here. Hoping to move on to the pressing issue, your lips part without further delay. “So, as I was--”

Childe places a finger to your lips, in an act that leaves you speechless. What is his problem? Furrowing your eyebrows together, you have half a mind to scorch the finger in front of you, but dismiss the thought when remembering his strength. Damn him for getting you riled up with such ease. 

“Uh uh uh,” Childe chastises with a shake of his head. “Not yet. Business can come later. First, you’re going to tell me about that.” 

You don’t need to look down to see he’s pointing at your hidden necklace. “It’s... personal. I have no reason to tell you.” 

“Oh, sweet [First]. I wasn’t asking. You did just burn my gloves, didn’t you? Instead of charging you Mora, which -- no offense -- you don’t have enough of to replace it, I want an explanation. I think that’s a fair deal.” 

So he is going to hold that mishap over you. Messing around with a debt collector and money seems counterintuitive, giving a quick explanation the plausible option. Whatever it takes to get him to drop the sensitive topic. Childe must have a semblance of tact to have made it this far in life after all. 

“Fine, fine. It’s not really that remarkable a reason. I have a younger sister, Chunghua. We used to be inseparable as kids. More than anything, I just wanted her to be happy. You’d do anything to accomplish that, y’know? It was… all my fault, really. She wanted a Vision like mine more than anything -- hair accessories, Mora, pretty outfits -- she never cared for that. 

I had no idea why I was given a Vision and not her. She was the one who prayed to every Archon at night for it, the one who burnt incense and gave offerings, not me. I could see her gradually losing hope every day that she woke up without one, like a piece of her was breaking off. At meals, she’d just… stare, silently, at the Vision around my neck. I don’t blame her for starting to hate me. I didn’t notice until it was too late.”

Taking a deep breath, your eyes fall to your lap. “I only wanted to cheer her up. To see her smile like she used to. When I first got my Vision, Chunghua would ask me to do these little tricks. Forming animals or whatever, stuff kids like. Anyways… I tried doing it again one morning. Needless to say, it didn’t go well, she practically screeched at me. I had no idea that was how she felt. But, yeah. That’s why I hide my Vision. See, not that interesting, right?” 

Childe’s expression feels impossible to read. You’re not sure why you even shared so much, especially with him, but his lack of interruption made you keep going. Maybe you weren’t expecting him to sit perfectly still and listen to every word. Whatever the case, you clear your throat, desperate to clear the gloomy atmosphere. 

“She would’ve reacted the same eventually,” Childe says after a moment of deliberation. You tilt your head, the serious answer was unexpected. “That’s what I think, though only older siblings could understand.”

There’s a brief tenderness in his words that leaves you speechless. If he’s acting, you have to commend his abilities, because right now it almost feels like he’s being genuine. Playing with a strand of your hair, you look past him and clear your throat.

“Yes, well, I suppose you’re right.” 

Childe’s somber appearance twists into a more impish visage. “Why don’t I give Chunghua a talking to? It’s a shame seeing your cute face so sullen.” 

Mortified, you shake your head. “There’s no need for that.” 

“Hmm… a shame. I could really take care of everything if you just let me.” 

“Somehow I doubt that,” you shrug with a frown. “What you could help me with is this ridiculous situation at the shop! Why are there Fatui guards outside the front doors? It’s scaring away customers.” 

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” 

Unbelievable. Childe continues to test your patience at every turn. After your previous conversation outside Liyue, which you’re still hoping was a bad joke, you’d noticed an increased presence of Fatui around the shopping district. That was bad enough for business. Now that they’re stationed right outside your parent’s shop, it’s far worse. Rumors have begun to circulate that you’re somehow involved with the Fatui. This has Childe’s doing written all over it.

“Why else would I be here?” 

He smiles and you immediately regret the rhetorical question. “Because you missed me, of course.” 

“I missed when there weren’t Fatui around the shop. Please, I don’t know what you did, but it’s going to be harder to get money for...” you gulp as if saying it cements the reality of your situation, but power through. “Paying off the loan with this drop in revenue.”

“Tempting as that is, I’m already happy with the results. I got you to come to me and learned more about you. From my position, this is a sizeable gain.” 

Everything from your head to your toes feels hot as if molten lava is stirring inside. He’s not taking you seriously, like the time at the stream and all the times before that. Memories flash in your mind. Your father hunched over letters containing bills, frowning, hair going greyer by the day. Your mother, sneaking out when she thinks you and your sister are asleep to pawn off her old jewelry. Even Chunghua, who offered to take time away from her education to help at the shop. It hits you like a pile of bricks, heart twisting painfully and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“What do I have to do,” Your voice is so low that Childe has to careen his head to hear it. He blinks, incredulous, waiting for further clarification. Each breath you take feels like a losing battle, your composure threatening to shatter. “For you to stop… whatever this is. I’ll do anything. Give anything. Please, just leave my family out of it.” 

Childe crosses his legs and leans in closer to you, arm secured tight around your shoulder.

“Didn’t I tell you already?” 

His breath is warm against you, lips ghosting over the skin of your neck. He presses his lips softly against your pulse. Smiling, he notices how it quickens underneath his touch, all too pleased with your physical reactions. 

“That what I want to take is you.” 

[mrsalwayswrite]

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​ for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults. 

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.  

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar. 

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word. 

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ 

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom​ who was kind enough to let me use it.

  Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously. 

 A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo. 

 Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next. 

 As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

 "Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them. 

 "They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

 "Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk. 

 Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action. 

 Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him. 

 She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul. 

 When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary. 

 "You alright, Ivar?"

 The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth. 

 "This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips. 

 "Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage. 

 Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

 The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion. 

 Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over. 

 With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

 Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence. 

 Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.  

 She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight. 

 Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream. 

 Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

 But never this. 

 Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct. 

 He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

 "No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

 Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

 He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there. 

 She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him. 

 He vowed to make sure she did not regret it. 

 He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him. 

 She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body. 

 "Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone. 

 With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her. 

 "Dance for me, my beauty." 

 A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head. 

 There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir. 

 Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body. 

 Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire. 

 He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded. 

 If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

 Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames. 

 Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army. 

 "Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

 A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations. 

 "Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them. 

 "Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

 Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood. 

 He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent. 

 "Still with me, my beauty?"

 Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

 With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men. 

 Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon. 

 Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind. 

 If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist. 

 When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know. 

 Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

 She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights. 

 Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe. 

 Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence. 

 "Who…. are you?" He stuttered out. 

 She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

 "Y/n?"

 She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

 A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

 "Shhhh…. surrender to me." 

 Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously.  Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible. 

 "Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need. 

 And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly. 

 He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her. 

 "I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

 Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again. 

 She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

 She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died. 

 When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore. 

 "No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before. 

 He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room. 

 "You alright, brother?"

 Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

 "We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

 Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish. 

 "You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call. 

 "Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

 The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

 Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

 "Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

 "No, you can go back out to the feast."

 "Okay, good night, Ivar."

 Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty. 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts. 

 "Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back. 

 "Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips. 

 Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity. 

[wishfullyeternal]

Crowley x Reader- Healing Your Wings, My Dear

Crowley x Reader- Healing Your Wings, My Dear

Words- 1192

Warnings- Depictions of blood, cuts, scrapes, etc. Swearing

Anon Requested- Sorry to bother you but I wanted to know if you could make another Crowley fic where he has wings again? Totally don’t have to but I read the first one and I thought it was an amazing thought and I can’t stop thinking about it! It could be a fluff where Crowleys wings somehow get injured and the reader helps bandage them and then they lay down and the reader grooms them and stuff idk. Again, you totally don’t have to do it! Thank you!!

A/N- Ayeo bros! Back at it again! Thank you for the request, had a lot of fun making this! Hopefully you like! Love you lovelies!

"Ah, bloody hell!" You jumped up from your chair, dropping the book you were reading, quickly scanning the room to find that Crowley was facing away from you, his suit soaked in blood.

"Crowley? What the hell happened to you? Where have you been-"

"Just a few little cuts from the Winchesters, nothing too bad darling..." He trailed off, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before slowly focusing on you. He slid against the wall and to the ground, his face going far too pale for comfort, much like a porcelain doll. Except he wasn't porcelain, and should never be.

"Ah fuck!" You ran to the bathroom, looking desperately for things to help Crowley but only found a small first aid kit. (You'd think he would keep at least something useful for injuries, but alas you were wrong)

"Hey, hey, you'll be okay." You opened up the first aid kit to find little to no supplies.

"Damnit Crowley how do you not have anything! At least invest in a good first aid kit you blithering idiot," Crowley started to chuckle but then sucked in a breath, wheezing harshly. You grabbed some alcohol and poured the clear liquid onto a cotton round, making sure not to get too much on your hands.

"No not that dear, it's not me, it's the wings..." He trailed off and winced, letting the wings appear behind him, void-like black with sparks of red scattered throughout, more towards the scapulars than anything else. But they weren't like how you had seen them the first time, instead, they had large cuts and scrapes all around them, with feathers bent out of place and down covering the floor. He shook them up and had to harshly bite his lip to keep himself stable.

"Oh Crowley, please let me help," He nodded and lent the left-wing to you, it was so bad that through some of the cuts you could see the light shine through, barely covered in anything but a thin layer of skin. The veins that coursed through the wings were the most visible and caught your eye with not red blood, but black.

Quickly though you put the alcohol pad onto the dried patches of blood, smeared from cuts that were still oozing. Crowley let out a harsh breath and sighed heavily. Looking at him his chest was rising and falling rapidly and if you weren't fast enough he would go into shock. He was a demon but still inhabited a human body, so ailments still affected him just as much as a regular human.

"You're gonna be okay, don't fall asleep on me, gotta make sure you're still breathing," Crowley's brown eyes looked at you with an emotion that was somewhere between the spectrum of disbelief and comfort. You began to clean the bigger cuts, making sure to keep them sterile before packing them with the small amount of gauze in the first aid kit. The cotton round soaked in alcohol was now a dark grey color from the blood as you threw it to the side, examining the scrapes and putting bandages on as needed.

"I'm going to need to pluck some blood feathers Crowley, but let me do the other side first," Crowley noticeably shook his head, knowing the process would be quite painful, but if not done swiftly and correctly the feather wouldn't clot itself and he would lose a lot of blood.

You then again soaked another cotton round in alcohol, swiping along the sides of scrapes and cuts, letting the round grow more and more black with the more blood it picked up.

"Damn, that hurt," He winced when you went over a tender spot, a bruise already forming over the exposed skin of his wing.

"Sorry," You were blunt with your response, focusing on the task at hand, and pouring some hydrogen peroxide on a particularly bad wound, allowing it to fizz up and grow white, killing the bacteria that would be too painful for you to use straight rubbing alcohol on.

"Now I'm going to take these tweezers and pluck out some feathers, promise you won't kill me okay?" Crowley lightly laughed and nodded,

"Gotcha love, no killing" You put the tweezers at the shaft of the feather that was broken, blood already beginning to hinder the process. It covered the surface of the tweezers and caused them to slip, making you resolve and use your fingers. You didn't warn him, knowing that if you did the pain would probably be greater, and instead pulled harshly, letting the feather release itself from his skin. A small amount of blood came from the pore of the wing, but other than that it was quite clean, and a new one would eventually grow in its place.

"Now for the others," You said to yourself,

"This time try to warn me, darling, I don't fancy being violated in such a way," You rolled your eyes and shook your head, warning him until the last one.

"Done," You said, brushing off your hands and cleaning up the mess you had made. Crowley plopped himself onto his bed, and sighed deeply, desperately wanting sleep to overcome him.

"Get up for me, I want to do something," Crowley groaned and reluctantly sat up, you sat behind him and looked at the ruffled feathers, seeing ones that were out of place and down in places where down should not be.

"Let me groom them," You weren't really giving him a choice, but he obliged and stretched them out. You ran your fingers through them and began carding through the ones that were obviously bent out of shape, and massaging places that were swollen.

"Thank you love, I appreciate it" You nodded and just smiled,

"Happy to help my king of hell," Crowley quietly stretched the wings again, letting you gently reach to his uropygial gland, where oil secreted and allowed his wings to be waterproof and sturdier than before. He tried to control his breathing, but at the touch of that gland, his breathing became erratic, knowing the area was quite sensitive.

"Sorry, I just want to make sure they'll heal correctly," Crowley didn't respond and let you slowly spread the oil onto the wings, allowing it to seep through and cover the entirety of the wings. Once finished the wings showed new life, although the scars wouldn't heal completely, and he would still have some missing feathers, they were still beautiful to you. After leaving the room to wash your hands from the oil, you found him sleeping soundly in his bed, his suit still on and wings lazily spread across the bed.

"Crowley," You shook him gently, he only groaned and said,

"What, I'm trying to sleep," You pursed your lips,

"Crowley move, give me some room!" He began to bitch and moan, but stopped himself,

"Fine," He moved the wing covering the bed over himself, cradling his chest and letting you finally lie down. The both of you were immensely tired from the debacle, and sleep came easily. You felt Crowley's wing begin to brush against your midsection, slowly letting itself release the tension it held. You let the warmth envelope you as you fell asleep, letting your eyes close and mind quiet.

[supremeinlilac]

Three’s not a crowd, especially when it’s us (1)

Summary: Its just part one idk what to say? oh, its a slow burn :) The idea came to me at 4am and I’ve just ran with it, it was initially going to be like 4 parts, and now its probably more like 10.

Word count: 2546

Warnings: mild language 

You weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to get through 2 months of being at Miss Robichaux's without accidently revealing your true ‘power’ to anyone. You thought that Ms Goode, of all people, would see through your bland lie about setting your families house on fire being the reason you’d ended up at the academy’s front doors. Instead, she’d simply nodded at you with a kind smile and a tour of the house.

You’d met all the witches, heard stories about the house and how this was now one of many schools like it that the Supreme had opened since rising. Some of the other houses were for the young witches and were more discreetly placed to avoid the inevitable hate crimes that witches still faced, while some were for the older women who’d always been taught to hide in the shadows and supress themselves rather than flourish. You’d fallen into the middle, gifted witches that were brought to learn under the Supremes’ close guidance and protection.

Your first night had involved sitting beside the fireplace with Zoe and Queenie, who were asking of your abilities and showing their own with stories of before Cordelia’s reign as supreme. You were awed by Queenies voodoo abilities, laughing at the time she’d stabbed her hand with a fork when Madison was being bitchy. You insisted she show you sometime. Madison was back at this point, you’d yet to meet her as she was off on some trip but Zoe had already advised you to stay clear. They weren’t even sure how she’d got back from hell, normally she would be the first to brag about something like that, but apparently she’d kept relatively quiet about it.

You’d met Ms Venable the next day, after hearing hushed rumours from the other girls about her sharpness and generally how they were all scared of her intimidating grandeur. She’d given you your lesson timetable with a quick flick of her eyes down your body at your state of undress when you’d come to the door, barking about having some decency. Her striking features and the perfect peaks of her red hair had you scrambling for something coherent to babble back to her as she turned and left you, mouth agape and staring after the strike of her cane on the ground.

Although Ms Venable had no magical abilities of her own, she was no less admired and feared among the other witches at the academy, her quick wit and sharp tongue more than compensating and aiding in her looming dominance. She prided herself in teaching the girls practical non-magic skills and subjects that they could put to use in due course when their time within the school’s halls ran out.

The girls had whispered and giggled to you about Ms Cordelia having a thing for Ms Venable, because of how she used to flush and stumble over her words in the presence of the woman. You hadn’t noticed in your brief week at the academy, mainly due to not having seen them together an awful lot in that time.

Over the weeks you found yourself watching their fleeting interactions, mentally noting the way Cordelia would shift under her gaze at the breakfast table. How she would be the first to pick up the fallen cane as it clattered to the ground; never using her telekinesis for it either, she would go out of her way to get up and retrieve it, small smile and glances exchanged as she did so.

You understood why the girls had picked up on Cordelia’s feelings for the redhead, but you were surprised at how they’d missed the obvious way Ms Venable would soften when she looked at Cordelia teaching when she’d walk past the open classroom door, or the way she’d grip her cane until her knuckles whitened when she caught one of the girls imitating the Supreme. You thought it was obvious, maybe it was just you. Maybe it was just that you’d grown rather fond of her and liked to observe the small habits that she’d do when annoyed or relaxed.

It was clear they didn’t just like each other, but that they were together, whether they formally declared it or not, to you at least; the lingering touches and glances when they thought no one was looking.

Over your weeks at the academy, you’d grown to appreciate the time you were able to spend alone with either women. You were always the first to volunteer your time in the greenhouse or to carry files for Ms Venable when she walked past a classroom with papers balanced precariously in one arm.

Cordelia had developed a soft spot for you, as an eager and caring student. You’d laugh and mess around with the plants in the greenhouse and share stories of times when your magic hadn’t quite gone to plan. You’d become infatuated with her laugh on one of these nights, when she’d let down all barriers and just enjoyed herself without worry.

Once, and at the time you’d totally thought yourself to be completely pushing your luck, you’d arranged a dinner for the pair of them out there, hauling Wilhemina’s chair outside from the kitchen so that she would be comfortable. You’d known that they’d both been stressed and hadn’t had much time for themselves away from the hum of the girls. Happy as always to oblige, you’d thought they’d appreciate the small moment to enjoy a meal together in the peace of Cordelia’s safe space.

They did, of course. Although it was only the Supreme who voiced her thanks, squeezing your shoulder tightly while Ms Venable shot you a momentary smile and a nod of approval. Since then, you wanted nothing more than her approval again.

***

At the dinner table, Madison had made some offhand remark about your magic which had sent ripples of barely contained laughter down the table. You’d looked up to Zoe who just gave a sympathetic grimace and a shrug, everyone else just continued sipping at the soup, an occasional slurp breaking the quietness. Everyone was so used to Madisons comments and attitude that they just took to ignoring it in uncomfortable silence.

You were not used to it. You didn’t understand why everyone could just sit and let her berate people as she did, you’d been brought up in kindness and empathy. Pushing your chair back, you emptied the contents of your bowl into the bin before quickly leaving the kitchen, guilty faces watching you leave. Cordelia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, knowing as the headmistress and supreme she shouldn’t stand for the way Madison talked to some of the girls, but she knew that aggravating her further would be a worse idea. Wilhemina’s hand came to settle discreetly on her thigh, squeezing slightly and grounding her in a silent way to tell her that it wasn’t her fault.

You’d slipped out into the greenhouse to let of some steam, moving objects around and letting yourself set random balls of paper on fire safely as an outlet for you to bubble your frustrations out through magic. After having done so, you settled into one of the chairs in the corner, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.

It had been Ms Venable who came through the doors to find you, heaving a sigh as she lowered herself into the chair beside you and balanced her cane against the arm. She sat rigidly, as always, hands clasped in her lap and one leg balanced over the other. Allowing herself to observe you, she took in your slumped shoulders and tired face which you hid in your drawn up knees.

“Cordelia sent me.” She stated, straight to the point as always, and you lifted your head in acknowledgement.

She’d lied, Cordelia hadn’t sent her. The supreme had actually wanted to come herself but Wilhemina had said that she’d go, that she needed to talk to you anyway; but she’d never tell you that of course. She had a stature to uphold.

You sat in uncomfortable silence, neither one knowing what to say to put the other at ease. Wilhemina didn’t really know how to start conversations with anyone apart from Cordelia that didn’t begin with a barked command or condescending jab.

“Ignore Madison. That insolent girl needs to be put in her place.” She quipped; lips drawn into a thin scowl before softening as you looked up at her. “From what I’ve seen and been told, your magic is coming along quite nicely. You should be proud of your progress.” She added quickly, suddenly finding great interest in the hanging plants that Cordelia had been tending to over the past few days: a new addition to the greenhouse.

“No. she was right. I’m not upset about Madison; I’m upset because no one knows me. Not really.” You mused, an appreciating smile gracing your lips for a second at her words. It wasn’t that you were overly affected by Madisons words, it had just served as a reminder to how you were keeping everyone in the dark.

“What do you mean?” She asked softly, as soft as you’ve ever heard her talk, hand reaching to draw your knees out from under your chin so you could uncurl to speak to her properly. You inhaled a shaky breath, fingers digging crescents into your knees as you prepared to tell her the thing you’d been hiding for months.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You asked hopefully, knowing it wasn’t something she could, or even would want to promise to you. She shook her head shortly, “you know I can’t promise you that.” Pushing it to the back of your mind, you decided to just blurt it out; now or never so to speak.

“I’ve been keeping my natural power a secret. I lied on my first day. I- I didn’t set my house on fire.” You admitted, head hanging shamefully and tears pricking at your vision. You didn’t need to look at Wilhemina to see the scowl that would inevitably be forming to replace the slight smile she’s had, at your stupidity.

“And you didn’t think Ms Goode needed to know of this?” watching you in disbelief, shaking her head and tutting. “You’ve been here long enough to know better, missy.” She scolded, making to get up by bracing her hands firmly against her knees and reaching for her cane.

You scrambled off your seat, frantically holding your hands up in front of you towards her in an attempt to stop her from going. Your hands found purchase on her wrists and you guided her slowly to sit back down, pushing slightly when she protested.

“No, no please- I mean, don’t go.” You pleaded, eyes wide, squatting in front of her so you could fall to a kneel, making sure your face was in her line of vision and she could see how scared the thought of having to tell Cordelia of your dishonesty was making you. Shuffling in place where you knelt, you quietly muttered your thanks when she settled back against the chair.

She scoffed audibly to make you aware of her distaste at the current situation but made no attempt to move your hands from where they now rested near her hands on her knees, or even to suggest that you move them yourself. Accepting that you weren’t going to let her leave until she’d listened, she let her curiosity pique and, raising her brow in question, she asked you shortly.

“What ability is so embarrassing that you decide to keep it from us all for so long? Lord knows it can’t be as bad as being a human gluten detector.”

You appreciated her dry attempt at humour to deflect from the uncomfortable silence you’d fallen into. Fidgeting your fingers against the fabric of her skirt, you remembered a dream you’d had where you’d told Zoe of your power and she’d turned the whole coven against you. Brushing it off, telling yourself that Zoe would never do that, you continued to admit to Ms Venable.

“I’m not even sure of it myself, I can’t find a name for it anywhere. I don’t even know if it has a name.”

“So it’s rare?” Wilhemina seemed to strike an interest then, straitening up and raising her eyebrows as if to prompt you to continue. She did this until she seemed to remember that she’s meant to be uninterested and she forced herself to scoff and reached to tweak her earring deftly between finger and thumb.

“It will have a name. Incompetence is the reason you cannot find it.” She stated coldly, lips pursed in intolerance. “That or your just looking in the wrong place,” she added, noting the way you looked down at your trembling and twitching fingers when she was mean.

You paused, having a momentary realisation of what you were doing before the thought was swiftly pushed to the side of your mind by the familiar pull of your magic at your fingertips.

“C-can I show you?” you blurted, almost clamping your hand over your mouth at your unexpected boldness.

“You most certainly will do no such thing, it’s not me that needs to be aware of your abilities, it is Ms Goode that you need to show.” She barked, defensiveness coming back out at your request. You tried not to take it to heart, knowing that that was just her way. Not that she would ever tell you, but Wilhemina felt a lot more secure talking about magic with Cordelia present, where she knew she wouldn’t be judged for having a less secure knowledge of the field. She liked to always be the most well versed in the room, hated to be spoken at about a topic she was new to.

“I can’t show Ms Goode without you.” You tried to explain, an itch of annoyance bubbling under your skin when she laughed at you again mockingly.

“I can’t show Ms Goode without you.” She mimicked, face pulled into a grimace which made you scowl, and exaggerating the words to a degree that just felt excessive, even for Ms Venables constant condescendence.

Your mouth fell open. You couldn’t believe this woman’s nerve.

Something suddenly snapped in your head at her incessant mocking and the condescending tone she used, and you found yourself moving your hands quickly from her knees to her hands, linking your fingers tightly before she could even react. You watched her eyes raise in surprise and the cocky smirk fall from her lips as she attempt to pull away unsuccessfully.

“What are you- get your hands off me!” She exclaimed; voice higher than normal in surprise as your quick movements caught her off guard.

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the way her hands pulled within yours and the sting of her nails digging into the delicate skin of your palms as she tried to free herself. The heat of your magic burned under your skin, the annoyance you felt only serving as a fuel, directing all your power towards the woman in your grip.

When you felt the snap of your magic release, Wilhemina let out a cry of pain and you almost stopped.

Almost.

***

  Part 2

Just to clarify, your powers do not involve giving people orgasms lmaoo. I will never try to leave anything on a cliffhanger ever again rip.

taglist : @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @extraordinarilycelestrial​@toujours-ensanglante​@mssallymckenna @okpaulson  @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark​ @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @amethyst-bitch​​ @its-soph-xx​,,if you want to be added just send me an ask :))

[mypersonmyg]

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment. 

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by  feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep. 

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids. 

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips. 

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls. 

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions. 

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place. 

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom. 

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?” 

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.” 

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being. 

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst  squealish giggling. “It was handmade.” 

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins. 

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt. 

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter. 

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt. 

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just  halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making. 

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness. 

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?” 

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior. 

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin. 

“What?” 

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as  you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.” 

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch. 

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins. 

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white. 

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning. 

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head. 

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole. 

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

[starlight-starwrites]

can I please request soft smut with Marcus Pike? Please and thank you. I love you. You are my favorite writer.

Everyday

marcus pike x female reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: piv sex, girl on top (for a bit), a lot of feelings and love (its so gross guys), hand holding, this is basically just all smut and fluff

i would literally do anything for you anon, omigod. the fact that you even sent this blows my mind, i’ve reread it so many times just to make sure im seeing it right. i am so so sorry it took me so long, and i can only hope you still get to see this!! thank you so much

You breathe easy, eyes still closed, covered by a thin sheet, the sun coming through the bedroom window, and a heavy arm. Inhaling deeply, you shift your head on the pillow only to feel another arm underneath it. A small smile creeps on your lips, and you sink into the embrace.

Without opening your eyes, you reach a hand to find the one underneath the pillow and intertwine your fingers with his. His arm around your waist moves, hand searching for your other to take hold of it too. You hum, giving his fingers a little squeeze, before you feel him scooch closer.

A nose tickles your bare shoulder. “Good morning,” he mumbles before pressing his plush lips to the back of your neck.

“Morning, baby.” You sigh and close your eyes tighter, wishing that you could have more time just like this. But Marcus was an early riser, and he would no doubt want to be up and getting ready for the day. You’re about to ask to just sleep in, but he’s already talking.

“Hey baby?” His voice is still thick with sleep, and you don’t mind it a bit as long as what he says next doesn’t destroy your moment of comforting bliss. “Do you think you could get off my arm, honey? I’m losing feeling.”

“Oh!” Your eyes open immediately, surprised at the request. “I’m sorry. Here.” You shift up, letting him move his arm from under your head and tucking it under your side instead, letting him wrap his arms around you while brace yourself with your shoulder so you’re not crushing him.

He pulls you to him, his bare chest to your back, both arms hugging your middle while you entwine your fingers with his again. His face is buried into your neck, brushing his cheek against yours to push away your hair, scratching you with his beard. His breath is warm on your skin, body solid and comforting at your back. It feels right, feels perfect, and you decide you are content to stay in his arms for the rest of your life.

You smile at the thought.

Marcus shifts closer to bring his body flush with yours, and when his hips meet the curve of your ass, you are suddenly very happy neither of you bothered to get dressed last night.

By keeping his hands held in yours, you force him to use other means to search for affection. His face buried in your neck now presses tickling kisses under your ear, and one of his legs comes to lay on top of yours, knocking your knees together. You wiggle your butt in retaliation, knowing the game he’s playing at is just to get you awake.

When Marcus wiggles back, proving just how awake he is, you know he is going to win. His kiss becomes firm, lips pressing and sucking at your sensitive skin, and he drags a palm over your stomach and searching lower, and you let your hand stay atop it as he touches you. It feels good having him here like this, no work, no responsibilities for the time being.

“You are incapable of sleeping in, aren’t you?” you tease him. His body is curled around yours, so much so you feel like you’re being absorbed. You know what he wants. You’re not inclined to refuse him.

“We did sleep in,” he retorts.

You scoff at that. He knows your sleeping habits, and your opinion on his.

“8 AM on a Saturday morning is not sleeping in,” you argue. His kisses that trail from your neck along your shoulder are only partially distracting.

“At this rate, we’ll lose half the day, baby.”

He always uses the same argument. But instead of groaning, you decide to respond differently. “It’s not a loss if I’m with you.”

The kisses stop. There’s a moment of silence, and you wonder what he’s thinking.

“I can’t believe you said something so cheesy.” He sounds genuinely shocked. “You hate when I’m cheesy.”

You scoff. “I do not.”

“You roll your eyes every time I do!’

You roll your eyes and push your back closer into him.

“You’re rolling your eyes right now.” He says it confidently. You don’t know how he does it.

“You don’t know that!” you bite back. “And just because I roll my eyes, does not mean I hate it.”

“So you’re telling me all those times you give me hell for being ‘sappy’, you actually like it?”

You grumble in response, closing your eyes and trying to will yourself back to sleep.

He pulls his arm from under you, lifting himself on an elbow to look at you. “So you do.” It’s not a question. You can hear the smile in his voice. You bite your lip to avoid smiling back.

With you pointedly trying to pretend to sleep, Marcus takes the chance to lean in and nip at your neck. The feel of his teeth and tongue make it impossible to ignore him, and when his hand that cups between your legs moves to separate your folds, you give up. You moan at his ministrations, turning slightly to the side to allow him more access, and he covers your body with his own.

Your hands skim over his shoulders, feeling his skin as he touches you, and you bring a hand to play with the hair at the back of his neck. He dips his head down to kiss you, slow and soft, the same way his fingers rub along your slit before slipping inside of you, only to pull out and stroke you again. It’s a lazy motion, and it’s relaxing, but you know it’s not going to get you anywhere. You don’t mind as you slip your tongue into his mouth, happy to enjoy a slow morning with Marcus for once, happy to feel his nose bump yours, his soft lips slant over yours.

He sighs, pressing closer as he deepens the kiss, and you pet his hair. He pulls back for a moment pressing kisses to each corner of your mouth, then one to your nose before he returns to your lips. You smile into the kiss, forcing him to pull away and try again. He presses a finger into you again, stroking you slowly as if he was trying to torture you. You sigh into his mouth, taking your time as you kiss him, but his gentle touches are beginning to drive you insane, and when you feel his hard length press to your thigh, you don’t want to waste any more time.

Your lips part from his with a soft sound. You notice he doesn’t open his eyes, just drops his head to nuzzle your cheek and kiss along your jaw. You cradle his head as he does it, but then you nudge him to get his attention.

“You going to fuck me, Mr. Pike?” It’s meant to provoke him, and you smile, but he doesn’t stop placing sweet kisses on any skin he can reach, even after he responds.

“Fuck you? I’m going to make love to you, Mrs. Pike.”

You raise a brow, hating how much the sound of that turns you on. “I’m not Mrs. Pike just yet.”

“Forgive me,” he takes hold of your left hand, bringing it to his mouth, “the future Mrs. Pike.” He places a kiss on your ring finger, right under where your engagement ring rests, making sure to keep eye contact.

You can’t help the way your lips part as you stare at him, darting between watching his dark eyes and his pouty lips. You twist your hand in his hold, catching his chin before pulling his face down by your grip on his jaw. “Get over here, Marcus,” you breathe out, and then his mouth is on yours. You think he tries to be sexy, taking your bottom lip between his teeth with a moan, but he’s trying so hard not to smile, and failing.

You laugh against his mouth, and he joins you, pulling away from your lips to press his forehead where you lay in the pillows. He takes your hand from his face and holds it, interlocking your fingers and pining it above your head. Your body still moves slowly this early, but the call of Marcus’ body on yours pushes you to act.

He presses his weight down on you, and you roll your hips into his, searching for friction. He happily obliges, grinding against you and pressing you deeper into the mattress. It may be slow, but it’s needy, the easy intoxication of having a body in your bed, of the early rise of the sun and the soft affection of someone who loves you.

His arms block you in and his face presses into the curve of your neck as you open your legs for him. No words are said as he slides into you. It’s all gasps and sighs and soft moans, his skin on yours, his breath tickling your neck. It’s a familiar feeling, one born of two people who know each other so well, who know exactly what the other wants. He pushes into you until he bottoms out, and you let out a moan as he reaches deep inside. You feel whole like this, like you were meant to wake up and go to bed like this every day.

“Oh, fuck Marc—” His mouth covers yours, kissing away your whine.

You feel his nose trail over the curve your cheek as he breaks away. “You feel so good, so soft for me,” he whispers into your ear. “Look at you. So beautiful,” his other hand comes to your face, gently stroking your cheek before taking your hair, pulling you back into the pillows.

“Mmmm baby, please. Please more,” you breathe it into his shoulder, consumed by his touch.

He kisses down the side of your face as he rocks into you, and your eyes slip shut, tilting your head back to let him kiss along your throat.

“Like that?” He strokes become harder. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

You slide a hand down his back to grip his ass, your nails biting into his skin and he grunts in your ear, moaning your name as he starts to move faster.

“I’ll give you more, fuck, I’ll give you everything.”

His body never parts far from yours, but he hits exactly where you need him, and you feel a pull beginning in your gut. He lets out a moan as he buries himself in you, over and over, and you love the delicious feeling of having him so intimately, the delicious sound of how wet he makes you. You can’t help the choked sound that escapes.

“Moaning like that, shit, shit. You keep doing that baby and I’m—”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Just like that, please. Please.” You don’t know what you’re saying, just want him to keeping doing what he is.

Marcus tilts his head as he pumps harder, his eyes slip closed, and you know he’s already lost in your heat.

“You take me so good,” he groans, and the sound of makes you grow wetter. “You love me so good. You promise,” his nose nudges yours, “You promise you’ll be mine?”

He thrusts into you again, his pace getting faster, and you know he’s close. But with the way he’s talking, how he groans when he hears you call his name, you know he deserves something better. So when he slides into you again, as deep as he can go, you quickly wrap your legs around him, squeezing your thighs to trap him. He moans above you, hanging his head, and you take the chance to roll the two of you over, keeping your bodies locked together. You sit on top of him now, keeping his back to the mattress with your hands pushing on his chest. You wiggle your hips to get settled, comfortable with him seated deep inside you. Marcus presses his head back, exposing his neck while he grits his teeth.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses, your move surprising him in his wrecked state.

You smile sweetly at him. “Not just yet, baby, I got something to say.”

You press a quick kiss to his lips before kissing down to his chest.

“Who do I go to bed with at night?” you ask.

He hesitates for a moment, confused and distracted by the light touch of your lips. You press your tongue to his sternum, dragging it over his skin until you find his nipple, swirling it around the peak. His hand comes to cradle the back of your head, mouth dropping open as you stay seated on him, teasing him.

“Who do I wake up to in the morning?” you try again. “When I need to be held, whose arms do I go to, baby?”

You watch the movement of his throat as he swallows and smile at the affect you have on him. Still, he doesn’t answer. You take his other hand and bring it to where your bodies meet, dragging his fingers around the base of his cock and through your slick folds. “Who makes me wet like this baby?”

He moans in response, mouth open as he stares at you like you came from the heavens. You swivel your hips around him, clenching on his hard cock inside you.

“Who, baby? You didn’t answer.”

The moan that comes from him is unashamed. He swears, a little fuck that makes you smile.

“I do,” he chokes out. “I make you this wet—” he grunts when you finally move on him, making his voice break again. And him finally admitting what he does to you, having him hard and throbbing inside you and nearly begging you to let him finish, breaks you. You lift yourself and rock into him again, finding a rhythm as you ride him.

He throws his head back, mouth running as he praises you, confesses his love for you. You feel your muscles tighten as you watch him.

“Yes, I promise,” you say. “Of course, I promise I’m yours. I love you, Marcus. I love you, I love you—”

He reaches up to tug on your arms, and you fall forward onto him. He wraps his arms around your body, holding you close to him, and he presses his face into your hair and your cheek.

“I love you,” he whispers, saying your name with reverence as he begins to thrust up into you. “I’ll love you forever.”

He snaps his hips up into yours as you lay there, only able to press yourself down on him. The angle changes, and he draws out a long moan from you where he hits inside you. His pace stutters, but with the two of you moving, the feeling builds and builds until it crests. You hold tight to him when it hits, he grinds into you as he releases, and one of your hands flies to press between your legs to prolong the high. It feels so good, he feels so good releasing inside you, tightening around you.

You touch yourself until you tremble atop him, and he captures your mouth in lazy kiss. Neither of you move from each other, content to bask in the moment a little longer. His hand rubs up and down your back as you settle into the crook of his neck.

You don’t regret him waking you up so early, don’t regret agreeing to join him in his bed so long ago. As you bend your thumb to adjust your ring, you definitely don’t regret saying yes.

“This is how I want to wake up. Every day,” you whisper it to the room, but you know he hears you.

He doesn’t say anything, and your hand on his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. He brings it to his lips again, smiling before pressing a kiss to the ring on your finger. And you lie there, him still inside you, your thighs framing his hips as he holds you, surrounded by his warmth, his arms, his scent, and you’re happy.

“Everyday for the rest of my life.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

breaking it down to find a meaning

neighbours au?

this came out of literally no where. I was getting ready for bed and I had "I wanna love somebody" by We Three stuck in my head and then I opened tumbles and this just poured out of me? Yea I literally wrote this in the tumblr post option. no google doc we die like lovers.

I point this out only to say this is defs not edited lmao. I didn't even expect it to be this long it was supposed to a tiny drabble?

please enjoy!

[all images have alt text]

There are exactly three things wrong with Percy's current living situation.

1. He has far too little lounge space for his terribly long body. His shins have hit the coffee table six times today in his attempt to maneuver from sitting on the couch to standing.

2. The spare bedroom is not a good enough sound quality for his guitar or his drum practice. The bathroom is much better. He cannot practice in his bathroom forever, or ever.

3. His neighbour is undeniably, completely distractingly hot.

He hasn't allowed himself to rate the problems in order of most troublesome because he's a little ashamed about which one might take first place.

Since moving in one week ago Percy has had many opportunities to arrange and rearrange every aspect of the tiny two bedroom— or one bedroom and a makeshift studio— apartment until he could walk around it blind. He knows not to step on the third floorboard from the left wall on the way to his bedroom because it creaks unpleasantly and he thinks his downstairs neighbours are going to shove a hot poker through the roof just to brandish the annoying foot that keeps making the noise. He knows that the oven setting has to be juggled just right for it to go on. He knows the curtain railings in the living room are far too thin and brittle— he will have to replace them before the month is out. He knows you have to turn the hot tap in the shower three times and the cold tap four to get the exact perfect temperature. What he doesn't know, however, is his neighbour's name, or the colour of their eyes, or anything about them. All he knows is that they're hot.

But today, bruised shin and all, Percy is determined to introduce himself. If for nothing else but to gauge just how upset they might be when he starts up what his mother used to lovingly call "Melodic Madness".

So far it takes the reign as number one reason he's had to leave his previous living spaces. Mr Chiron from Strawberry Valley, who told the landlord the noise was so loud it made his steel kneecaps rust. Creative, but Percy isn't sure it's feasible. Then there was Minerva from Olive Grove who took one look at him and told the landlord he was a drug dealer, or worse, a drug user. He had raised a brow, couldn't stop his lip from tugging up, liking the way the ring that hugged his bottom lip stretched deliciously. He almost killed her on the spot. He would have laid lillies at her funeral and she would have risen again to throw them away. The last place, a Mr Hedge. Percy was glad to leave him behind. There were baseball bags swinging and yelling almost as loud as he played every time they crossed paths. For his own safety Percy didn't even wait for the man to call the landlord before he wad tucking his drumsticks in his pocket and high tailing it to, here.

Here being Sunset Gardens. Here being in this small apartment that fit him almost perfectly. Here being one knock away from meeting his new neighbour.

Percy wonders, as he looks at the soft cream wood of the door, if he should have worn a turtle neck to hide the snake tattoo wrapping around his throat. Or maybe a button down and a tie, to hide the swirls of ink on his arms. The black t-shirt he has on, a normal longer length to his usual cropped look, is clean and soft from use. He decides it'll have to be good enough because he can't wear button downs all the time. How ever will he afford all the ties that come with the obligation?

Percy knocks on the door.

There's silence behind it. The silence of sleepy world, too cozy-can't move. The silence that doesn't wish to be disturbed.

The door opens.

His neighbour's eyes are blue. Bright blue. Startling blue. Blue enough to make his lungs feel a lack of oxygen. He's reaching for the sky and it's getting harder to breather the higher he gets.

"Hello." Says his neighbour.

Percy is flying closer to the sun than Icarus ever will, ever could.

"Can I help you?"

He needs to stop staring. He needs to say something that doesn't make him look like a gaping angel fish. All starry eyes halos and floundering for relief from the air. Do fish know how beautiful the sky is? He imagines if they did they'd all kill themselves trying to get to it. He's doing it right now.

"Hi," He grins. Teeth white, straight, flossed because his mother forced him to learn the habit. "I'm Percy, your new neighbour."

"Jason," The voice is warm, deep. He knows if he lay his head on that spectacular chest he'll feel every vibration when this blue eyed spectacle talks. It'll be like getting into a really nice car and feeling the seats rumble beneath you.

"How are you finding the apartment?"

They're still standing on his door front. Jason won't relent his sanctuary. Percy won't toe over the line, curiouser and curiouser as he is.

"Good. Living room is causing some bodily harm," He waves to his shin, "But otherwise very good. Cozy."

"We share a wall. I don't know if it's your bedroom and mine or..." His neighbour trails off.

"It's my spare bedroom against you." They both glance to his door, light from his lounge flooding the passage in a perfect parallelogram.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He's looking into the sky again. Watches as hair falls over that golden forehead. His hands— tattooed "amare" on his left fingers and "amari" on his right— twitch to push it back, to grasp the white strands, to know what light feels like. He tucks them into the pockets of his sweatpants. He tells them behave. The twitch in their hiding place. He doesn't let them seek.

"What about it?" Jason is frowning, in that worried way that says he's used to bad news and he's tired of it too.

"I uh," Percy's eyes flicker around the world. "I play guitar and drums. I'm using that room as my music room."

"Oh." The relief in Jason is a pointed arrow straight at his heart. Even cupid could never shoot something so potent. "That's okay. I'll use your music as inspiration when I paint."

Percy is Icarus three seconds after he believes he can fly. Percy is Patroclus when he feeds Achilles. Percy is Hercules after completing his first trial. Percy is a hero and a warrior and the luckiest person alive. Percy is alive.

"I hope you're good." Jason shrugs as if he hadn't tattooed a permanent place into the underside of Percy's ribcage.

"I hope so too." He manages to say back.

"I'll show you what I can create from you the first time and you can judge." Those blue eyes are so wide with innocence. Not the innocence of life but of words. His neighbour has no idea what he's doing to him. Has no idea that he is about to go home and make song lyrics out of all these declarations.

"I look forward to it." He smiles wide. It's ocean deep with happiness.

There are exactly three things perfect about Percy's current living situation:

1. The kitchen has a gas stove enough counter space for him to make bread and his mother's gumbo

2. His bedroom is big enough for him to fit a king sized bed easily. He is a sprawler when he sleeps and he cannot be happier to sprawl across never ending expanse.

3. His hot neighbour is perfect.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Kinktober Day 5

Eyeless Jack: Bath Sex

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Any tips are greatly appreciated!

The water is warm and smells pleasantly comforting as it gently laps at your skin

You sink further into the tub, letting yourself soak into it, closing your eyes and leaning back to allow the tension to evaporate from your body

For a moment, everything‘s quiet

Your heart thumps rhythmically in your chest, thoughts slowly yet surely beginning to drift

You don’t know how long you stay like that—until you realize you might not really be alone

You don’t hear him so much as you smell him first, and when you open your eyes, surely enough, there he is

His tall form looms over the bath, head tilted to the side as he takes in the sight of you so calm and relaxed

He’s drenched in blood

His hair is mussed up and matted with chunks of... something that’s coagulated

His hoodie, his pants—everything looks about five shades darker and dripping crimson

“Jesus. Jack, baby, what happened?”

He cocks his head the other side, like he’s confused, before glancing down

“Oh. I, uh… I’d forgotten to eat for a while and I was, ah, hungry” he sheepishly admits, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck

You sit up, mouth quirking into a wry grin

“C’mere. You need this bath more than I do”

He seems more than happy to oblige as he strips down piece by piece, his clothes falling with wet, heavy schlaps to the floor

The grin tugging at your mouth twitches as you take in the sight of him

The man has the broad shoulders of a god leading down either side to strong, well-defined arms and just-thick-enough biceps, with a perfectly toned torso and v-line that never fails to make you bite your lip

It isn’t so much the actual dip of his hips that always catches your attention—though their definition certainly don’t go unnoticed either—but it’s more so what‘s waiting at the end that has your gut tensing eagerly in anticipation

One foot at a time, he steps into the water, which immediately turns scarlet as the blood on his chiseled body dissipates into the tub

“It’s considered rude to stare, y’know” he snorts as he settles in front of you, creating tiny ripples around him

You toy with your bottom lip between teeth, moving closer to wrap your arms around his neck

He helps you up to sit on his lap, and you’re just close enough to have your nipples grazing against his chest

The feeling alone would’ve had you shivering, had it not been for the warmth of the water

“Can you blame me, baby? How could I possibly resist all that eye candy?”

He hums, chest rumbling beneath you with that familiar guttural purr

His hand traces up your thighs, grabbing handfuls of flesh before rubbing circles with his thumbs into your hips

“Lets get you cleaned off first, yeah?” you breathe, trying to calm your quickening pulse because you know he can sense it

You move your hand up, running your fingers through his hair and tugging faintly, and it has him purring even louder

“You expect me to wait?” he groans

His long fingers flatten around the expanse of your skin, feeling the soft flesh beneath his touch

And then he’s guiding your hips up and down on his thigh, and you can’t help but shudder as it has him pressing right against your clit

“Jack…” you bite your lip, eyes fluttering close “I’m gonna get too distracted”

You put your hands on his, feeling their largeness beneath your much smaller ones, and tug them off, moving them to your sides instead

But he tilts his head, salacious grin on his attractive features, and keeps running them up until they’re cupping your tits instead

“Jack—“ you warn

He hums again in response, thumbing at your nipples

Before your will crumbles any further, you press your hands against his biceps and tug him off, shooting him a warning look

“Ok, ok, I’ll behave” he chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender

You can’t help the corners of your lips twitching into a smile

“No you won’t. When have you ever behaved?”

His grin widens, sharp teeth peaking out from tempting lips

You shake your head, trying not to give in to his charm, and cup some cloudy red water into your hands

“Tilt your head back” you order

When he does as you ask of him, you run the water down his hair, letting it rinse away the clumps of drying blood

He hums pleasantly at the feeling

You can feel him staring at you even despite his lack of eyes, and it has another grin quirking at your mouth

A few more rinses through his scalp and you can feel him starting to get impatient

His hands return to your hips, teasing his way closer and closer to your sex

“(Y/n)—“ the deep, guttural vibrations of his voice sends your cunt clenching around nothing

“I think I’m clean enough. What’s the point if we’re just gonna get dirty all over again?~”

You cup his jaw with one hand, and next thing you know, you’re bringing your other hand to the side of his face and kissing the corner of his mouth

He takes it as all the permission he needs to lift you up and effortlessly settle you down on his cock

You can’t help whimpering quietly as he stretches you out so perfectly

“F-fuck, Jack~”

His chest rumbles pleasantly beneath you, the sound somehow both reassuring and sexy

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your thighs, using your own weight to lift you up along his length, bouncing you along his cock at a slow, deep pace

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in, grazing his teeth along the marked flesh and practically tasting the blood pumping beneath the thin layer of skin

“J-jack, you feel so—fuck, y-you feel so fucking good!~”

You whimper his name and it has him changing the angle of his hips so he can piston his cock into you harder and faster

Over and over again, he hits the spongy inside of your cunt walls and it has you gripping his shoulders, gasping and moaning with every wonderfully brutal thrust

Your clench and flutter around him, squeezing him so hard that he twitches and slams you down while buckling his hips up and it’s heaven

You squeeze your eyes shut, breaths heavy and shallow as you let him have his way, using you all he wants

He must sense you’re getting close because his hand finds its way to your clit and he jerks it hard and fast, never once looking away from the faces you’re making as he keeps ramming up into you at the same time

“Jack—a-ah, f-fuck!~”

Your back arches, pushing your tits against him, giving him the perfect chance to latch his mouth to your nipples

Ecstasy and adrenaline pump through your system, your muscles tensing up, body shaking from his ministrations as your climax suddenly crashes into you, but he still doesn’t relent

He flips you around so that you’re beneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he keeps fucking you through the shuddering waves of your orgasm

Your walls grow unbearably tight around him, the bloody water sloshing over the edge with every harsh thrust of his hips, though it doesn’t deter him in the slightest

He practically snarls, hitting right into your cervix, moving so hard and fast that you couldn’t keep up even if you tried

You’re forced through another orgasm by the time his movements start getting sloppy—and a few more thrusts into your fluttering cunt and he stills, climaxing with a low, satisfying snarl

Short thrusts of his hips have his cum spilling wonderfully deep inside you, though you can’t help but flinch at the feeling of being so very stuffed

Your whole body slackens, still enveloped around him, and then you’re sighing pleasantly as he’s kissing up along your collarbone and your neck, murmuring how good you did and how perfect you are for him

You chuckle and gently push him away from the tickling nips at your bruised skin

He very reluctantly moves back, and again, you find yourself flinching as his cock slowly leaves your tensed entrance

“See, baby?” he purrs

His fingers carefully move to your cunt, gently pumping his cum further inside you, which has you whimpering beneath him, sore and tired from both of your orgasms that happened in such rapid succession

“You’re all dirty now,” he croons, “Why don’t you let me return the favor and clean you off?~”

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job.

He supposed that was to be expected when one was tasked to dealing so closely with death and decay. An unending stream of souls passed his path – no similitude between their age or gender, their species, or even the manner with which they had perished. Phil found them and with the touch of a hand helped them to their feet, waving away all mortal burdens so they could pass on.

His task was merely to play the guide, he did not need to do anything beyond that. Who died was not up to him, neither was where they went after. Moral judgment was better left up to the deities, and Phil was not a god. But he could offer some kind of solace in their final moments, wipe the pain from their face and help them depart to whatever it was they were destined for next. Over time he had gathered expertise at comforting the dying.

Some wanted to be held as they died, both arms wrapped tightly around Phil's waist and rapid heartbeat slowing to a tilt. Others talked until they ran out of breath, recounting snippets of the stories they had lived or simply told Phil how scared they were to die with sobs shaking their chest. Then he would wipe away their tears and console them with the knowledge that soon all pain would fade. Others still were content in the silence, their only fear dying alone and forgotten. Phil sat with them in company, humming a song to himself that he hoped eased their way into death.

Then he would touch them carefully, their soul a bright burning like a flame held to his open palm. He would guide them where they needed to go, and not dwell on if their passing was just or not.

People had mistaken him to be the angel of death before, never mind the fact that this title was an oxymoron by nature. Phil knew it probably had to do with his wings, long feathers stretched out behind him in an arch of dark grays and black. It was a wrong assumption people made about him which he regarded with patient allowance, sometimes even aiding the moniker in its spread. He didn't mind if that was what people thought him to be.

But being an angel of death would imply he brought death with him where he went, a harboring of future loss yet to come. On the contrary, Phil felt as if he was always one step behind, chasing a shadow that fled before him and took lives where it settled. He arrived at the battlefield long after the banners had already been torn down, the ground reduced to a jutting landscape of limbs and discarded weapons. He crossed the sea of corpses – detached to the sense of dread such a scene would induce in normal people – and set about guiding the soul he had been tasked to find onward.

The sight of a man barely into his thirties, frightened expression frozen on his face when the javelin had been driven into his chest, made his heart clench.

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job, no. But it was an obligation that needed to be filled, and he had been the one chosen to do so.

He only strayed from that path a handful of times.

The first time he did, the sunlight was bright. The air was filled with an sense of exhilaration, the rushing of people along cobblestone streets and children shrieking as they played between their parents' legs. Phil drew his robe closer around himself; even after all this time he was filled with unease.

His work didn't often call him to places so full of life – so full of happiness – unless something terrible was about to happen. And he braced himself for the consequences.

But instead, the pull on his soul was languid, small tugs towards the town's bustling square. A slow death then, somebody slipping away into old age? He traced his eyes along the houses, wondering if that was all it was. Natural causes rarely needed his services. Souls that passed on in a tranquil fashion wouldn't require guidance to find the afterlife. It was those that struggled with accepting death that concerned his labor.

Instead, his gaze fell on a shape standing hunched over on the edge of the square and Phil felt his heart drop.

The boy couldn't be too old, barely a teenager to most. His matted, curly dark hair was half-hidden under a beanie and his long legs were slightly shaking beneath his thin frame. Despite the tremble, he was playing an old guitar, deft fingers moving smoothly along the string. As Phil approached he could hear the music the boy was playing, a tune of his own devising no doubt. Phil liked it.

The crowd must not agree. The boy's basket, a small thing with cloth at the bottom to keep coins from falling through the cracks, was empty. People hurried past, barely giving the musician a second glance, and even if they stopped to watch him play for a moment, they didn't leave a contribution behind. Humans could be disgustingly selfish like that.

As Phil observed more closely he could tell why he was here.

How long had the boy been doing this? Traveling around from town to town and settling only long enough to play his music in the hopes some would take pity on him and offer money for his skill. Whatever luck he had found must have been few and far between. His bones were too visible beneath the skin, his cheeks hollowed out and sunken. Bright eyes that Phil somehow knew were supposed to spark with life had become dull in the face of malnutrition.

And still the boy was playing.

After a few minutes more – during which Phil simply watched – the boy grew too tired to continue much longer. He sunk down onto his knees with a sigh, the guitar cradled in his lap protectively. The only valuable possession he was most likely to have. His shoulders sagged as he pushed a hand against his empty stomach, scrunching his face up from what Phil assumed must be pretty horrible hunger pains. He didn't seem to have the strength to raise his head again.

Phil approached, tipping his hat in the belief that it would make him seem less threatening to the starved teen. "That was some lovely playing."

With strenuous effort, the boy looked up at him and despite the circumstances, offered him a lopsided grin. From up closer, Phil could tell how young he really was. "Thanks man, I wrote it myself."

Just as he had expected. It pulled at Phil, the physical thrumming of a soul about to leave its body as it succumbed to starvation. And it was cruel, as the humans behind them walked along the town square, buying food from stands and trading for gold. Meanwhile, a child sat here starving because there was nobody to look after him.

A sharp inhale from Phil to ground himself. Time slowed down around them as he unfurled his wings, all other movement slowing down by the molasses-like pull of his power. Only the boy would be able to see, but his eyes widened nonetheless.

"Oh," he said, a small sigh of resignation. He didn't seem surprised. "You're here to take me away right?"

"I am," Phil confirmed quietly. He wasn't too used to people staying this calm in the face of his true form.

The boy smiled again, more timid and broken through by exhaustion not of his age. He had already reconciled with what was about to happen. Phil knelt down in front of him.

"Are you scared?"

"I guess not," the boy answered. "There's just... just a lot more I wanted to do, you know?"

Phil couldn't. He couldn't know because he had been immortal since the first dawn. He had no grasp on the concept that was the painfully human fear of running out of time. But he nodded anyway. Holding out his hand, he hesitated only a moment before touching the tips of his fingers to the boy's forehead.

His soul glowed dimly in his ribcage, proof that he was running out of life. The color was a stunning yellow, woven through with odd traces of blue. Like a sunrise being steadily overtaken by the noon sky. Within lay the power of creation, the power to bring words and music to completion. Phil didn't know what came over him, but he felt pity for this boy's death.

Then he felt it. The push was subtle, a tingle down his spine and he leaned into it, wondering what would happen. How painful it would be for him. "What's your name?" he asked.

The boy opened his eyes, slipped close from fatigue. "Wilbur."

Phil pushed harder and the horrible feeling of draining that came over him was hard to bear. Dizzy as it made him, he kept at it. Emptiness washed over him, but then he noticed the way Wilbur's eyelashes fluttered, the way his chest heaved in for a deep breath.

Returning life to a mortal had been a first for him.

Wilbur blinked wearily, probably confused by his sudden surge of energy. The absent hunger that had plagued him for weeks. "Wha-"

"Wilbur," Phil said softly, as time resumed its restored flow around them. His wings had been retracted and Phil stood with a feeling like he had permanently lost something important. "How would you like to travel some more? With me."

The second time he did it, the world was struck through with red.

Phil huffed to himself and removed his hat to fan his face with it instead. He quite despised being sent into the nether – something that had only occurred on rare occasions.

It wasn't that his services weren't appropriate to this dimension. Death permeated this place more than any other he had visited during his travels, naturally dangerous terrain and many hostile creatures making it an unwelcoming venture. But the few sentient beings that lived and thrived in the nether did not have the same qualms with death as most did, not fearing it as the end of all things temporary.

Some even revered it as the final blaze of glory to be feverishly sought after.

Most passed on easily, with fervor. It rarely occurred to them to resist the pull of the beyond or make the transition harder than it needed to be.

Not this time apparently. Phil traveled the cracked ground, the unpleasant heat of the lava running beneath it keeping him light on his toes. The pull was strong this time, an urgent tugging like a fish hooked on a line, meaning that whoever was dying had to be in considerable pain. He felt their panic, something bordering on sharp-set denial. A warrior not prepared to lay down his sword?

The boy he found was not a warrior.

In fact, he was barely old enough to hold a sword without the weight of it crushing him. He did have a blade, tiny fist curled tightly around the iron hilt. When he spotted Phil he clutched it firmly and raised it in an ill-concealed threat. Or maybe a gesture of self-preservation.

The warning held little weight when the boy was clearly making an effort to keep standing on his feet. Long strands of pink hair stuck to his face and back – slick with sweat and blood. Fresh cuts and bruises were hardly distinguishable from older scars and the signs of battles wrought long ago. The deepest gash ran along the boy's side and over his chest, still seeping red and probably soon to be fatal. Phil frowned.

"Hey, calm down." He held up his arms placatingly. "I'm not going to hurt you." Not technically a lie, of course.

The boy grunted at him, a low visceral noise that could hardly be called human. Phil realized why a moment later, as he stepped closer and finally realized the person in front of him wasn't human either. Maybe he could be mistaken for one at a glance – aside from the peculiar color of his hair – but upon closer inspection, the illusion quickly fell through.

Sharp claws extended from the hands he used to hold his sword up with and what Phil had mistaken for clunky old shoes turned out to be hooves instead. piglin-like ears were barely visible through the boy's hair and when he made another angry sound, the beginnings of tusks yet to grow in completely revealed themselves. Well, that explained why a child would be all alone in this hellhole.

Another step forward and that was the moment Phil realized that if this child was not human his common tongue would probably not be understood. He was just starting to scour his brain for some distant knowledge of the piglin language he must surely possess when he was hit square in the forehead with a stone.

Phil yelped, blinking just in time to see the kid run off.

Well, that had certainly never happened before. Most of the people he was sent to collect didn't have the stamina left to try and outrun him. Not that it made a difference anyway, as the pull of his soul would inform him of their location no matter how far they went.

A few minutes later he already came upon the boy again, this time lying face-down on the ground, blood loss finally getting the better of him. His sword was still clutched at his side. Phil stalked over calmly, hoping to anticipate any other projectiles coming his way but the child was probably in no condition to try that stunt again. Kneeling at their head, Phil turned them around carefully.

The child's burning red eyes were half-lidded in pain and every inhale rattled inside his chest unsteadily, troubled by his slowing pulse. he was dying fast. Yet when Phil brought his hand forward the kid's own came up to snatch his wrist, pulling weakly at his arm.

It wasn't exactly fear that contorted the boy's face, Phil had seen enough people cower at the prospect of death to recognize the cowardice with which most people faced their demise. This was something else. This was resistance in its purest form, a survival instinct that ran deeper than blood could. The boy let out a subdued whine, lacking the energy for anything more, as he tried to push Phil's hand away or get free from his grip.

Once again Phil felt that familiar pity tug at him.

He pushed through the kid's feeble struggle to touch his forehead, feeling the pulsing of his soul. It became a visible swirl of misty blood, the colors presented in all shades of red - from lightest pink to a maroon so dark it seemed to steal the light away. Phil had to bite down on his own tongue when the first wave of hurting hit him.

He was familiar with pain, but mending another and bringing them from the brink of death was entirely new. It burned along Phil's veins, a liquid fire not unlike the scorching sulfur of the nether itself. The boy shifted a bit in his grasp before finally settling down and slipping into sleep, the worst of his wounds gone. Phil lifted him as he stood up, noticing he weighed next to nothing.

The stinging sensation lingered inside his nerves as he carried the child out of the nether.

The last time he did it was on a dark and stormy night.

The rain came down on Phil relentlessly, soaking his clothes and hair both. Thick droplets clung to his face and he had to wipe at his eyes continually to even be able to see three feet in front of him. He hated this, he'd much rather stay inside on an evening as miserable as this. But when the pull called Phil would answer. It wasn't like he had a choice.

And it was strange, weak in its force but forming almost a mirror image of echoes in his ribcage. Phil wasn't used to that happening often, cautious as to what it would mean. Souls rarely passed in such unison, a synchronized entwinement. The last time he had experienced this he found a mother in labor, alone and afraid as she tried to birth her child into this unforgiven world. Neither had survived the ordeal.

Phil had soothed himself with the knowledge that they would be united in the afterlife.

This pull was slightly different though, and he followed it strangely as it led him deeper into the forest. Any moment he expected a building to dawn in front of him, a secluded cabin or some other sign of civilization. The thicket never thinned out and no light filtered through a window appeared on the horizon. The pull intensified and Phil swallowed, aware of what this meant.

There were two of them, curled up close into each other to conserve their dwindling body heat. The smaller boy was unconscious, clinging to life with some stray strings of determination fast slipping away, brown hair wet and stuck in angles to his face. The other seemed to be of similar age and had blonde hair he rubbed out of his eyes. He perked his head up as he heard Phil's approach, and curled his arms tighter around the other one in a clear display of protectiveness.

Phil stood across the clearing and stared at them.

Part of him wanted to ask what they were doing out here – even if it didn't matter, even if they were already dying from the exposure to cold wearing their bones down. Stealing the heat of life from their very skin as they clung to each other in idle hope.

He didn't need to ask, however. The clothes they wore were telltale of the many orphanages Phil had needed to visit over his life, the way the fabric always seemed to come inches short and the shoes were loose on their feet, worn by a child they were not intended for. Nobody had bothered to give them proper care.

"Who's there?!" the boy who was still awake said, voice firm and puffed up with false bravado. Phil could sense the fright hiding beneath, but the boy was doing well subduing it.

He made his presence known, keeping his wings invisible for the moment as to not scare them any further. "Hey, it's okay kid-" Phil tried, volume as low and unthreatening as he could make it while still being loud enough to be perceivable over the storm. The rain made him blink fast, trying to force a smile despite the unpleasant wetness.

"Stay the fuck away!" The boy sprung up with surprising agility for somebody who must be suffering from serious hypothermia. He had a small pocket knife, the blade dull and glistening in the moonlight, which he held in front of him as if it could protect anybody. "Don't come any closer, you weirdo!"

The last word caught Phil off guard and he nearly burst out laughing. "Weirdo?"

The kid bit his lip, probably thrown by his strange reaction. "Y-yeah. Why else would some dude just be wandering the woods at night? You must be some kind of creep." He moved the knife again, but there was no urgency behind it.

He wasn't shivering either, which was a bad sign. Once you got cold enough, your body couldn't even muster the strength to shake. The unconscious boy sighed out a soft sound of discomfort and the other turned around, hastily scooting over to try and rub his friend's arms warm.

"T-tubbo, dude, don't-" he was muttering under his breath.

"What happened?" Phil asked despite himself. He knew it wouldn't help to know.

"It's none of your fucking business!" the boy answered heatedly, but his voice was already breaking down. A few more steps closer and Phil could see the tears streaking down his cheeks. He pressed both hands to his friend's face, shaking him lightly. "Tubbo, please get up we need to leave."

The smaller boy – Tubbo – murmured something but didn't wake up. Phil could tell he was already done for. The other one would be shortly behind.

He hated how the pity swelled up again, bitter and destructively human.

"I can help," he heard himself saying, and unfurled his wings to their full stature. The rain slowed, suspended in the air and the boy looked at him with weary eyes, equal measures of concern and hesitance. "Do you have a name?"

The boy started shaking his head as if he was reluctant to give it up. But then he thought better of it. "Tommy," came the clipped response.

"Tommy," Phil repeated. "May I help you? May I help your friend?"

That same uncertainty returned to his face, brow furrowed in thought and his eyes moved side to side, scrutinizing Phil's form and most likely weighing his options. He must have realized any other plans had been exhausted and gave a short nod.

Phil moved in gradually to show he meant no harm. Tommy still had most of his body put in front of Tubbo, still shielding him in case this turned out to be a bad decision. He flinched when Phil stretched out his hand, which he pretended not to notice.

His soul was almost effervescent, murky green like the shallow waters and mingles of orange and red. It seemed to move beneath Phil's touch, curious as to what was happening. Tommy's skin was clammy and cold as ice.

Feeling that same coldness in his gut, Phil pushed life into the soul. The warmth of divine light flooded out of him, tethered on the edge and he tried not to shiver under the assault, the hollow feeling that entrapped him. Tommy's paleness drew away with his efforts.

When he was done he took off his robe, soaked but at least another barrier against the wind as he threw it over Tommy's shoulders. The boy was wide-eyed, freckles dotted along his nose, and probably confused as to what was even happening. Phil eased him with a gentle smile.

"Now your friend too, yes? You can both come to my home, it will be much better there than out here in the rain."

Phil didn't particularly enjoy his job, but he enjoyed the gifts it had granted him.

His wings and the ability they gave him to travel. He had crossed wild lands and sullen deserts. He had passed by oceans and beneath skies of colors unimaginable to most. The world had lain beneath him sprawled out like a patchwork blanket as he soared the clouds, everything below so small he could hardly imagine it being real.

He had witnessed generations. He had seen the best that others could offer – and yes, the worst too but he had made the conscious decision not to dwell on that. He had known cultures and kingdoms, tasted foods and danced to music and admired flowers that had long since been forgotten to the history books.

And now he had a family too.

Phil had paid his dues. Immortality was a strange thing, a blanket that wrapped around you and made you forget you were different from others. Age never touched Phil and it still couldn't, but other things had been granted that ability.

Hunger and thirst, where it used to be that neither bothered him. When feasts were a mere indulgence instead of a necessity, they were now an aspect of survival. A blade could cut him down, where it could hardly slice his skin before. He was not invulnerable to the destroying of his body anymore. And cold and heat became a constant struggle, tiredness pulled at his mind and Phil found himself craving and needing sleep when he never had previously.

His family had made him more human than he expected, in every sense of the word.

But when he looked at them around his table, joking and laughing in jest, the radiation of souls alive and well, Phil knew it was a price he had gladly paid.

[weelittleweasley]

Amnesia (final part) | Draco x Reader

BEFORE YOU READ...PART ONE, PART TWO, PART THREE

Prompt: After your memories come back, you and Draco can finally pick up where you left off. However, with all good things come the bad things. When memories of the painful past start to erupt, how do you and Draco move forward? Or will you?

Warnings: 18+ sexual content (bondage kink, dirty talk), panic attacks,  language, fighting (verbal), anxiety, PTSD (Please do not read if you think any of this will be triggering! Take care of yourself!)

Word count: 8.9k

A/N:  So sorry for the delay in releasing this final part. Many thanks to those you keep coming back for more. All my love! This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love.

Flashbacks told in italics!

Your body is nearly shaking from how hard you are holding onto Draco, arms wrapped around each other, refusing to let the other go. It isn’t until you feel the tears running down your cheeks that you realize you are crying in your tight, loving embrace. Draco strokes your hair, inhaling your scent deeply, the sense of comfort washing over his body, calming every fear he had about losing you. 

The two of you stayed in this position for what felt like forever. You would have stayed there longer if you could have. His arms felt like home. The feeling of his chest pressed against yours so firmly that you could feel his heartbeat align with yours. Slowly, Draco peeled away from your embrace so he could hold your face in his hands. His eyes were brimmed with tears before he noticed the tears streaming down your face. “Oh, no, darling,” he chuckled, kissing the tears the left your eyes. “Don’t cry. This is supposed to be a happy moment,” he tells you, peppering your cheeks in kisses as you giggle. 

Draco looks into your eyes as you blush. His gaze always made you feel shy. He still had such an effect on you even after all these years. You start to lean closer to him to press a long awaited kiss to his pink lips, but he stops you. “What? Let me kiss you,” you tell him.

“I believe I owe you a story tonight,” Draco smirks. You sigh, but can’t help but smile at him. “We can pick up right where we left off last night,” he tells you. “Then I’m all yours,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

You teasingly push his shoulder. You excitedly crawl on your bed and lay on your pillow, tapping the spot next to you for your boyfriend to lay down next to you. He sighs and shakes his head before obliging and laying next to you. You rest your head on his chest and his arm slithers around you waist and the other traces circles on your hips lazily. The gesture could honestly put you to sleep, but your excitement to be with Draco kept you wide awake. You snuggle deeper into Draco’s touch as he chuckles, “Comfy?” You nod your head and you can feel him smile into the kiss he places on the top of your head. “Alright, now where were we yesterday...ah, our first kiss.”

When you two arrive back to the common room, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. “Thank you for tonight. I needed that,” you tell him.

“It was my pleasure. Thank you for saying yes,” Draco tells you. “I like you, (Y/N). Truly. I do.”

His words make your heart speed up. You let in a shaky breath before responding, “I like you, Draco. I do. Truly.”

That’s when he knew it was time. He smiled before leaning down and dipping his head to connect your lips. 

Draco’s lips were cold from being outside for so long, but his kiss was warm. As you kissed him back, his hands found your hips and pulled you sharply closer to him. You lightly squealed as he did so, but wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your lips harder against his. He allowed a small moan to escape his lips as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, tugging at his roots lightly. His large hands squeezed your hips before trailing down your lower back before taking your bum into both of his hands and squeezing it lightly. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He tasted of cool peppermint as his tongue swirled around your mouth before teasingly bitting your glossed bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. The action was undoubtedly sexually charged and you couldn’t help but have a rush of heat to your stomach. Draco was undeniably hot. 

He attempted to pull away from the kiss, but you weren’t going to let him get away that quickly. You grab his face again and kiss him again, this time with much more urgency and desire than the previous kiss. Draco smirks into the kiss, kissing you back with just as much intensity, wanting you just as badly as you wanted him. One hand rests on your lower back and his other on the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair. He pulls on your roots, making your head lean back so he can kiss your neck, placing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck and jawline. You sigh at the contact and hold onto Draco’s shoulders as he does so. “Shit,” you breathe out as Draco starts biting and sucking on the flesh at the base of your neck. He wanted to leave a mark on you that was so big and so dark that this whole damned school could see that someone had marked their territory. If you were going to be his, Draco wanted everyone to know that you were his and his only. 

Draco’s lips part from your neck as his blue eyes stare into yours, the both of you breathless, panting to catch your breaths. In that moment, something clicked in your brain. The way that Draco looked at you made you feel vulnerable and all your guards came down so easily, but you were strangely okay with that. The boy did something to you. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you trusted him. “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). I swear on that,” he pants. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Alright,” you smile at him as he smirks. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As Draco finishes the story, you look up at him. “Well, I certainly am yours,” you tell him, kissing his nose as he scrunches his nose in the process. “You didn’t break that promise.”

Draco props himself up on his elbows. “I don’t break any promises, darling. It’s not in my nature to do so,” he tells you as you rolls his eyes. Draco definitely had an issue with his pride, but you were willing to look past it. “Anyway,” he grabs your hip and pulls you on top of him in one swift motion. “I think you wanted to do something earlier...would you still like to do it?” he asks, eyes glued on your chest as it is pressed against his, causing your breasts to slightly spill out of your v-neck jumper. 

You notice his gaze and place a finger under his chin and push his gaze up to your eyes. “Eyes are up here, Malfoy,” you speak as he gulps. His eyes scan your face as he bites his lip.

“You are a sight for sore eyes, (Y/L/N),” Draco speaks as he let his hands run down your back, lightly grasping your bum in his hands. “Godric, I’ve missed you.”

And with that, you press your lips against his. You couldn’t take it anymore. His lips were warm and soft and immediately responded to your lips on his. Your hand cupped his cheek as you kissed him, his arms wrapping around your figure tightly as to not let you go. Your mouths moved in synch, tongues pushing against each other, your bottom lips then being captured between his teeth as he tugged on it lightly. As you deepened the kiss, Draco sharply pulls away and digs into his pants pocked to grab his wand. 

With a swift motion, he says, “Muffliato,” whilst pointing at the door. The door clicks with a lock and Draco lets a deviously chuckle reverberate through his chest, making your want for him grow. “Can’t have any visitors now, can we?” he connects your lips again, hungry for more. 

Before you register what’s going on, Draco flips you over so he’s on top now and he pulls his black shirt over his head and onto the floor. You reach to touch his toned body, but he pins your hands over your head and pulls your jumper off in an easy motion to reveal your breasts over flowing out of your bra. His lips find yours again as his hands grope your breasts outside of the thin material of your bra as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body impossibly closer to yours. He starts to grind his hips against yours as you groan, feeling his erection through his dress pants. “Draco,” you moan as he smiles while kissing down your neck.

He mumbles against your skin, “Tell me what you want, kitten. Use your words.”

You gulp as he continues to rub himself against you as you struggle to formulate a sentence. “I-I...shit...” you speak as he grinds against you, “I want you...please.”

“I need more detail than that, kitten,” he teases in your ear before nibbling it. “Paint me a picture,” he speaks. “I wanna hear that pretty little mouth say what that dirty mind is thinking,” he says before unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down your legs before throwing them to the floor. “Go on.”

You relish in Draco’s hands that rake up your thighs, your stomach, up to your chest before landing on your neck and then your chin, forcing your eyes on his. He wanted you to look deep into his eyes as you confessed how much you wanted him to fuck you senseless. 

As your eyes stared into his piercing blue ones, you gather up the words to say, “I want you to fuck me.” A smirk appears on his face as he urges you to go on, his hands tailing up and down your body. “I want you to take me how you want to take me,” you confess as his hands slip into your panties, you gasping. “I...I want to you have me a squirming mess, Draco. I want you...fuck,” you whisper as Draco starts to rub lazy figure eights on your clit. “I-I...I want...I-”

Draco teases you further, “You want what, kitten?” You gulp, screwing your eyes shut as he continues to rub your clit, picking up his speed before plunging one of his fingers into your wet core. You arch your back in pleasure as he starts to pump in and out of you slowly. “Tell me.” You cannot form any words, too distracted the pleasure that is building up inside of you. Draco’s thumb swirls around your clit as he inserts another finger inside of you, pumping in and out, curling inside of you, hitting your g-spot as you moan loudly. “Tell me what you want, baby, or I’ll stop.” You still don’t speak as Draco continues to pleasure you. But then he abruptly stops, making you whine. He grabs your jaw and forces you to watch him. “Did I stutter? I said to tell me what you want. Only good girls get what they want.”

You gulp as watch him stick his fingers in his mouth as it drips with your juices, tasting you on his tongue. The sight was enough to make you cum. You inhale deeply, you rest rising and falling before speaking, “I want you to take me how you want me. I want you to make me beg for your cock.”

His mouth turns into a mischievous grin before his fingers are inside you again as you moan. “As you wish,” he whispers huskily in your ear. His thumb is on your clit again, harder and faster, making your mind reel with pleasure. “You want me to fuck that tight pussy of yours, huh? You want my cock inside you?” he pushes you closer to the edge with his fingers and his words. 

You nod feverishly, “Please.”

Draco is pumping in and out of you hard, his thumb sloppily drawing circles on your clit, making you claw at his back, digging your nails into his flesh. Your toes curl in pleasure. “Yeah? You like that? You want me balls deep in you don’t you? You want me to fuck you senseless, kitten? You want me to fuck you like a good girl?” he growls in your ears as you moan out loudly.

You’re inches away from finishing before Draco stops what he was doing again, making you groan in annoyance. You look at him with an annoyed expression on your face as he undoes his belt. Before you can ask him what’s he’s doing, he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. Then taking his black leather belt, he ties your wrists together and then ties it to your bed’s headboard. A takes a good look at you tied up underneath him and he smiles devilishly at the sight. “This is how I want to take you tonight,” he growls as you wetness grows. 

He pulls his trousers down along with his boxers. His cock is rock hard for you as it hits his stomach. You gulp, you almost forgot how large he was. Draco rolls a rubber on his length and pumps himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance, but not pushing himself inside of you. “Dray, please,” you whine.

“You said you wanted to beg, so I’m going to make you beg,” he grabs your chin. Draco teases you, pushing his tip in between your folds, up and down as you arch your back. “I said beg,” he demands.

“Please, fuck me, Draco, I need you so badly, please,” you beg, your eyes pleading him as he continues to tease you. He wanted to basically squirming, writhing, and yelling underneath him. And he hadn’t even put himself inside you.  “I need your cock inside my tight little pussy. I’m so wet for you, baby. Please I want you to fuck me so good like you always do,” you try to reach for him, but the belt restrains you from touching him. 

Draco chuckles as you squirm under him. He knew how badly you wanted him, needed him. But he wanted to see how long he could get away with it. Slowly, he pushed his tip inside of you as you groaned out. Draco bit back a moan, needing to refrain from pushing the rest of his length into your wet pussy. “You want more? I want you to scream for me, kitten. Fucking beg for my cock,” he growl.

Your mind is reeling and you can’t get over how your heat is throbbing for him. “Draco, fuck me, already won’t you?” you yell. “I can’t take it anymore I need your cock railing into me so hard that I see stars!”

And that’s all it takes for him to pound the rest of his length into you. You gasp at the action as Draco groans. He gives you little time to adjust to his size as you squeeze your eyes shut, the action a little painful at first. “Take it,” he groans. “If it hurts, good. I want you to take my whole cock into that tight pussy.”

His words just feed your wetness as you moan out. You loved when he talked like this; demanding and dominating. It was hot. “Yes, like that, baby,” you moan out as he pounds in and out of you.

“Oh, you like that? You like it when I’m pounding into you?” he urges you as you are a moaning mess underneath him. Your eyes are screwed shut and head tossed back in pleasure. “You like that, you dirty little slut? You’re such a slut for me, I fucking love it,” he groans into you as he firmly grabs your hips, his hips pushing in and out of your core, his dick covering in your wetness. “Who do you belong to?” he groans.

You moan, “You, Draco. I belong to you. I’m all yours, baby.”

The words combined with your walls clenching around his hard cock send Draco over the moon. The two of you are in states of euphoria as he pounds in and out of you. Draco takes one of your breasts in his hands before ducking his head down, licking, biting, and sucking on your nipple before moving to the next one. You see stars, your toes curling up, walls tightening around Draco. You were so close. 

“Dray, I’m gonna fucking come,” you breathe out as he continues to pound into you.

He presses a firm kiss to your lips before dragging his thumb across your clit again, making you cry out in pleasure. “You come when I tell you to,” he growls. He continues to circle your clit, his hard cock rocking in and out. “You wanna come for me, my little slut?” he speaks as you nod. “Yeah?” he keeps fucking you as you cry out his name, your body shaking. You couldn’t hold it any long. “Come all over my dick,” he says and you immediately release all over him. Draco finishes right after you, continuing to pump, riding out both of your highs.

Draco collapses next to you on the bed, the both of you sweaty, panting messes. Your eyes are still screwed shut as you catch your breath. Draco literally made you see stars. Your pussy was sore as ever, but Merlin was it worth it. Draco grabs a tissue from your nightstand and rolls the condom off and into the trash. He looks over at you and smiles before freeing you from the make shift handcuffs. 

You rub your wrists that now have marks on them from how tight that belt was around them. You weren’t complaining. It was hot. “Merlin, Draco,” you pant, sitting up. 

He chuckles, “I missed that.” He presses a kiss to your lips gently before going into your pajama drawer and pulling out a t-shirt that he had given you a while ago. You smile and happily toss it on as Draco pulls on his boxers. He climbs into the bed next to you and pulls the sheets over you. “I’m so glad that things are somewhat back to normal now,” he confesses, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you wrap your arms around him.

“I am, too, love,” you tell him. “I can’t imagine life without you,” you confess to him.

Draco looks at you, “You’re my world, darling. I love you.”

“I love you, Draco,” you smile back.

---------------------

A month has passed since the night you regained your memory and you and Draco reunited again. Since then, every thing has been smooth sailing. You moved out of your parents and you and Draco moved into a flat in London right outside of the city like you two had planned before the war. Draco wanted to get away from magic, from Hogwarts, from everything. He just needed to take a breather from it all before he came back to it again. 

In the meantime, you two have been taking on muggle jobs to support yourselves and at night, Draco studies to become a healer. He had made this decision when you had decided to move in together. Draco wanted to be able to help people in order to make up for all the pain that he caused people in the past. Although the gesture was so thoughtful and kind, you couldn’t help but feel sad when Draco told you. He had been through so much over the course of the past five years. His parents, the Dark Lord, the torture emotionally, mentally, and physically...and yet he still wanted to help people. 

You were happier than ever to quite honest. You were with the person you loved, you were able to support yourself, you had a great support system. Things were great. The one thing was that you were still suffering from the brain injury. Your memory was fully restored, but sometimes you would get vivid flashbacks that would disturb your day to day life. It would happen anywhere, at home, at work, at night when you were trying to sleep. Some of the flashbacks were happy, some random, others were frightening. A lot of them were flashbacks of the day of your injury.

You would be fast asleep and that’s when they came, interrupting your sweet dreams. 

“Draco!” you scream with every last fiber in your body. You launch yourself into a run down the stairs and towards the bridge. You push people out of your way in a beeline for your love, hoping that he’ll stop for you, but he doesn’t. His parents keep an iron grip on him, pulling him along the bridge. Draco turns around, seeing you run as he tries to writhe out of his mother’s grip. His face is full of concern, but he can’t escape. His father puts his body in front of Draco’s as Draco screams out in pain and fury. “Draco!” you yell.

Your feet carry you as fast as possible as you run toward the bridge, trying to get to him as quickly as possible before it was too late. Draco claws at his father, trying to get past him. As you run you feel your breath becoming short and your lungs burn, but you ignore the sensation and push. You need to get to him. He needed to get to you. You needed to save each other.

But that all came to a screeching halt when you name being yelled out in horror by Draco. “(Y/N), watch out!” someone screams a blood curdling scream as you look up to see a large rock come crashing down.

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air, sitting straight up in bed. But Draco would always be by your side, holding you tightly, stroking your hair, gentle kisses on the head, followed with a few “I’m here,” “I’m not going anywhere, darling,” “It’s all over,” “No one is going to hurt you.” Eventually you would fall back asleep in his embrace, but the fear that the nightmare would come back would always haunt you. It was often that you had nights like these, but it was comforting to know that Draco was there for you. 

As you stood in the kitchen, putting dishes in the dishwasher and Draco cleaned the table with a rag, you happily hummed. You closed the dishwasher and ran the sink to start cleaning the pots. But before you could start, you ears started to ring and you felt lightheaded. You knew what was coming, even though you didn’t want to. A vivid flashback came to the front of your memory.

You stood in Draco’s dormitory, your lungs burning and face hot from crying. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, the walls were coming in around you. It was a panic attack and a bad one at that. Normally you would seek comfort in Draco, but you wanted nothing to do with him right now. “Don’t come near me,” you hyperventilate, walking to the opposite side of the room. “How can you fucking do something like that to me and then want to comfort me like nothing happened? That’s so...so...manipulative!” you scream at him.

Draco’s once concerned face twisted into anger. “Don’t use that word when it comes to me, (Y/N), you know damn well I am not like that!” he yells back at you. “I told you that nothing happened between us. She initiated things.”

The two of you were in your monthly screaming match. People knew that you and Draco loved each other something fierce, but when you fought, it was ugly. No one wanted to witness it. The topic of this screaming match? Pansy Parkinson. What had happened was you came into the Slytherin common room after a long night of studying for your OWLs in the library when you spotted your love and Pansy sitting on the couch. Well, Draco sat on the couch while Pansy found herself comfortably sitting in Draco’s lap, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes. You went batshit on Pansy in front of the common room, but save Draco the embarrassment and decided that you twos screaming match would be in private. Draco insisted that nothing happened. He was sitting on the couch when she came over and sat in his lap and started to flirt with him. 

“Nothing may have happened, Draco, but the thing is you didn’t even think to stop it. You are always too busy thinking about yourself and what you want! What about me? Do you ever think of me and what I want?” you ask him, tears rolling down your cheeks as he just stands, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He looked unbothered which just made your blood boil. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? An apology?”

Draco sighs, “Sure. I’m sorry that you never believe me. I’m sorry that you don’t think I’m unwavering in my loyalty to you.”

You laugh, “You’re a real prick, Malfoy. You know that? You are just like your family. Cold, rude, and heartless.” You start to make your way to the door, but Draco blocks the door. “Move.”

He doesn’t move. “How come you can’t trust me?” You scoff. “I’m serious. You don’t trust me at all.”

“No, Draco, I do trust you. I trust you too much. That’s the problem,” you confess before pushing him out of your way and leaving his room.

You come back to your senses and see Draco staring at you. “Flashback?” he asks as you nod your head. “You alright? You wanna talk about it?” he rubs your back, and his touch makes you flinch after that memory. “What happened?”

You close your eyes for a moment and shake your head, exhaling. “Um,” you start, “Yeah, um...it was a memory of a fight...of us. We were yelling at each other in your dorm.”

Draco shakes his head, “What were we yelling about? Something silly I imagine.” His attempts to crack a joke weren’t working and he noticed how uncomfortable you. “Do you need me to leave you alone for a moment?” 

“No,” you jump. “No, darling, it’s okay, I’m fine. I need to just...talk through it. Think about it before I carry on...” Draco shakes his head. “We were arguing about Pansy Parkinson and how I um...that night when I walked in on her sitting on your lab in the common room and I flipped.” Draco nods his head. He was familiar with the memory. You had given him the silent treatment for two weeks as a consequence until he send you eight dozen red roses to your bed and a heartfelt apology. “We fought a lot...” you trail off.

Draco starts to dry dishes, “All couples fight, love.”

Sighing, you say, “That’s not what I meant. We fought a lot, Dray. I keep getting flashbacks of our fights recently. I haven’t gotten flashbacks of the same one. They’re all different fights. And they’re all bad...What did people think of us?” Draco chuckled. “I’m serious, Draco. Our fights were never about silly things. It’s all been scary and serious. We fought about you and the dark mark, we fought about infidelity, we fought about you not liking my relationship with Ron-”

“Don’t bring Weasle-bee into this,” he stops you which earns him a glare. 

“Don’t call him that, Draco. Ron is and will always be my best friend. You bullied them at Hogwarts, even when we were together, you never stopped. Which, now that I think of it, is a shit thing to do. I mean, I told you to stop. Even though I was never fond of your friends, I never was rude or short with them. I was respectful,” you retort. Draco stays silent. “Hello? Earth to Malfoy?” 

Draco looks at you. “I’m listening.”

You shake your head, “Okay, but you’re not responding. I don’t appreciate you ignoring me when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“Don’t pick a fight when there doesn’t need to be one, (Y/N). It’s childish,” Draco puts away dishes. 

You scoff. “Childish?! Childish is ignoring your girlfriend when she’s trying to have an adult conversation with you about your relationship!” 

He walks out of the kitchen and into the living room whilst speaking, “We aren’t having a conversation about our relationship, (Y/N). We are having a conversation about Ronald Weasel-bee which I would rather not talk about with you!” 

You follow him into the living room, not ready to end this conversation. You were just getting started. “The relationship that I seem to have with Ron Weasley,” you correct him, “seems to be affecting our relationship. Which I never thought it would or did, but apparently I stand corrected.”

Draco plops on the couch with a huff. “Come on, (Y/N), I have eyes. I’ve seen the way Ron looks at you and how you two act together. Everyone had their bets on you and him being a couple before he and Hermione got together. For Merlin’s sake, Zabini was convinced you were going to break up with me in sixth year so you could get together with Ronald after he and Lavender Brown had broken up!”

This was news to you. So Draco’s friends questioned your loyalty to him? “Ron is like family to me. There is nothing between us and nothing will ever be,” you tell him. You had no intention of telling him about what happened at the Burrow and your bubbling feelings for Ron a month and half ago. “Why you are still carrying on about this is beyond me. Not to mention, all of my friends thought you were going to break up with me in sixth year so you could hook up with Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass! Let’s not forget about the time at that Slytherin common room party where you had too much fire whisky and you had the audacity to ask me if I would be down for a threesome with Pansy and she was standing behind you holding your hand!” 

Fury starts to pound through your blood as Draco gives a chaste wave of his hand. “Oh, please, (Y/N), that’s different. I got way to drunk that night and you know that was taken out of context. You know Pansy was always up my ass at Hogwarts no matter how many times I told her I wasn’t interested,” he dismissed, now walking into your shared bedroom.

You angrily groan. “That’s not the point I’m making, Draco. It doesn’t make you a great person just because you stayed loyal to me! That’s the bare fucking minimum.”

“Have I been a shitty boyfriend then, (Y/N)? Huh? Is that what you’re trying to get at? That I’ve been a bad partner?” you can hear the anger rising in his voice. You knew that he would start screaming soon, but you were ready to test the waters. 

You sigh, “That’s not what I’m saying, Draco.”

“Then what exactly are you saying?” he says curtly as you furrow your brows and look at him in shock. He rubs his face. “I’m going to take a shower. I just need time by myself to think. Can you do that? Can you leave me alone for more than ten minutes?”

Before you can answer, he disappears into the bathroom with a slam of the door. Draco has never behaved like this before. He usually liked to talk, rather scream, things out before storming away. Storming away was more your thing. Now this was a role reversal. 

You hear the shower start and you sigh. You sit at your vanity and braid your hair for bed and change into a long t-shirt and sleep shorts. Hopefully, you and Draco could talk before going to bed. 

The shower was still running ten minutes later after it first turned on. You sighed and climbed into your shared bed and sat a thought about what to say when he came out of the bathroom. Should you apologize? No, he was overreacting. Should you offer to talk it out? How should you approach him and his hot temper?

Before you can think further, the bathroom door opens to reveal a freshly showered Draco in his boxers. He starts out of the bathroom and heads for the door. “Where are you going?” you ask him. 

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he speaks.

“Please don’t,” you sigh. “Stay with me. I don’t care if we’re fighting, I still want you next to me.”

Draco stops for a moment and with a sigh, comes back to the bed. You softly smile, but he doesn’t reciprocate one back. He climbs into the bed and even though you didn’t expect a cuddle from him, you wanted one so badly just to know that this fight wouldn’t last forever. But he just turned his back to you and turned off his light, signaling he was done for the night.

With a huff, you turn off your light and lay back on your pillow. You stare at the ceiling, mind rushing with a million thoughts, but you don’t pay any mind to any of them. You are too focused on you and Draco both going to bed angry. In your mind, you knew that going to bed angry was never good and you knew that you both should go to bed somewhat content in order to approach tomorrow with new clarity.

An idea pops into your mind as you slowly sit up and grab Draco’s arm gently and pull him towards you so now he’s on his back. “What, (Y/N),” he states more than asks.

You lean down and kiss him deeply, tongue sliding into his mouth. He hesitantly kisses you back as you straddle his lap. He sits up to kiss you deeper as you tangle your fingers in his hair and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. Even though you two were pissed at each other, that didn’t mean you were physically repulsed by the other. 

Slowly, you start to rub yourself against his lap as he groans. You smirk into the kiss and continue to rub against him as you feel his hardening length in his boxers. Draco lets out another strained groan as you start to kiss his neck as he let out a sigh as you leave wet kisses down his neck.

As you go to pull off your shirt, Draco stops you. “No, no, no,” Draco says. “I don’t think we should have sex tonight. I...Yeah, I just need time to think for the night.”

A little embarrassed you climb off of your boyfriend’s lap and back onto your side of the bed. Draco remains sitting up and rubs his face before turning his back to you again and attempting to fall asleep. 

Was he really that upset? Or was he upset with himself? What was going on? Did he not find you attractive anymore? 

Rather than entertain these thoughts, you decided it was best to just force yourself to sleep. That night you didn’t have any nightmares, or dreams. You just felt lonely.

------------

Morning came quickly and you turned to Draco’s side of the bed just to find it empty. Your thoughts were confirmed when you hear the coffee machine brewing in the kitchen and the clattering of the dishwasher being unstacked. 

You sit up and rub your eyes. How should you start this conversation with Draco? You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen because it most definitely did. He some accusations about you and Ron and not to mention avoided the whole conversation about him and Pansy. 

Climbing out of your bed, you leave the bedroom and head into the kitchen. “Good morning,” you speak, looking at Draco who wore his boxers and what looked like an old Slytherin jumper.

He looks at you and gives a quick, “Morning.” He continues to unstack the dishwasher as you stand in front of him. “Coffee on the counter for you,” he gestures to the mug full of coffee and a splash of cream like you liked it. 

You mumble a thanks and sip on the coffee your boyfriend made you. He continues to tidy up as you stand and sip; the both of you still silent. Neither of you knew how to start this conversation. 

After about an awkward five minutes in silence, Draco decides to speak first. “We should talk about last night,” he starts and you give a knowing smile and nod as he offers a soft smile. “To be honest, I think we should just move on from it. The past is in the past and we changed. We’re back and we’re better than we were before. I love you, I’m happy with you, and no one can change that.” He smiles at you as you give him a soft smile. Draco walks to you and places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Alright?”

You stand there thinking about what he said. However, in that little speech, you didn’t agree. You shouldn’t just move on, you need to work through what happened, not to mention how he essentially gaslit you at one point. Not to mention, there was no apology with how short he was with you. “Um,” you start. “I don’t think we should just move on, darling. I agree I want to get over it just as badly as you, but we should at least talk about what was said.”

Draco rolls his eyes, “But can’t we just agree what we both said was stupid and unnecessary? We don’t need to dwell on the past.”

You gently untangle yourself from Draco’s grip. “I don’t think any of what I said or you said was stupid. I think it’s important we explain to each other why we said what we said. In case you forgot, I’m still remembering bits and pieces from the past, so talking about it helps me.”

And that’s when Draco snaps. “Well in case you forgot, the past has been nothing, but traumatic for me so I’d rather not keep remembering it and move on with my life. Merlin, and you think I’m self-absorbed?”

His words send a shock wave through you. “That was uncalled for,” you laugh. Draco just groans and leaves the kitchen. “Draco, you know that I’m so sorry for everything that your parents forced you into over the past couple of years. But we can’t pretend like your past or my past didn’t happen. We’ve grown up. We can move on like adults. We can’t just pretend like all of those horrible things didn’t happen,” you try to reason with him. “The past shapes us.”

Draco shakes his head, “It’s easier said than done, (Y/N)! About our past, I never cheated on you and I never meant to hurt you when I did. But I would rather focus on our relationship now than what it used to be.”

“We can’t move on if we don’t learn from our mistakes of what we used to be!” you exclaim. “That’s why we need to talk about it!”

Now, he’s getting frustrated and it’s evident in how his face contorts. “I’m not having this conversation right now, (Y/N).”

“Oh, so you’re gonna pretend this conversation isn’t happening, huh? What else? We’re gonna pretend like that night with you and Pansy didn’t happen? We’re gonna pretend like you didn’t make my best friends’ lives miserable at Hogwarts? We’re gonna pretend like I didn’t ask you to stop after years of begging you?” you knew you were pushing his buttons. What you were doing was wrong, but you needed him to talk to you about this.

Draco is furious now. He looks at you angrily and says, “Oh okay! We’re gonna pretend like Weasley didn’t want to fuck you all those years at Hogwarts? We’re gonna pretend he doesn’t hate me because I’m in love with you? We’re gonna pretend like I didn’t protect you from everything I could?” he yells at you.

You are as pissed as Draco now. “What is your obsession with Ron and I’s friendship?” you pull at your hair. 

“The guy is a bloody fucking prick! He never liked me and never wanted you to date me! Admit it! He’s warned you about me before and told you all these awful things about me? Like how I can’t be trusted?” Draco asks. You heart sinks a little, knowing that Ron did and has done that in the past. But you knew it was because Ron was scared of you getting hurt, not about him being in love with you. Ron was in love with Hermione and everyone knew that. 

“That’s because Ron has always cared about me! Ever since we came to Hogwarts, he cared about me! You only started caring about me when I suddenly became ‘hot’ to you. You only started caring about me when it was convenient for you!” you accused him. 

That’s what stung Draco the most. The accusation that he never cared about you and he only cared about your looks. Draco had always cared about you even when you weren’t dating. Before he even said anything romantic to you, Draco always watched you from across the room. Watching you smile, crinkling your nose, throwing your head back in laughter. He cared about you when you looked stressed in the library, tugging at the roots of your hair. He cared about you when he saw you run down the hall, wiping tears from your eyes as Hermione followed you close behind. Draco cared about you. Always. Draco loved you even when he didn’t know it.

But instead of telling you that, he let his temper get the best of him. “Then how about you go fuck Ron?” he screams. “Since he cares so much about him, go song him, why don’t you?” 

And that’s when you did it. You let go of every fear you had about Draco finding out what happened between you and Ron. You stopped thinking and just said it. “Guess what? I already did!”

That’s when Draco’s face dropped. Disbelief crossed his face and his heart sank to his ass. HIs face turned sheet white like he had seen a ghost. It felt like he just got slapped across the face. “What?”

“I kissed Ron! The night I got back from the hospital and spent it at the Burrow? I kissed Ron!” It was like you were vomiting the words, you couldn’t stop no matter that your mind was screaming to stop it. “Right after I got your letter, I kissed him!”

That’s what sent Draco over the edge. How could you? “You kissed him...while I was trying to get you to remember our relationship?” he asks in disbelief.

The gravity of the situation slaps you in the face as your eyes widen. What have you done? “Draco, I-”

“I don’t know if I can hear anything else,” he shakes his head.

“No! Draco please listen,” you grab his hands as he looks at you pained. You just broke this boy in front of you. “I was so confused after the accident and I was getting my feelings for you confused with the feelings I had for Ron...I can’t explain it, but I know that I love you. It’s not Ron. It never has been and it never will be! I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Please Draco you have to know that I love you and you’re the only one for me,” you start to get choked up as you see Draco start to cry in front of you. “It’s always been you, Dray.”

You hug Draco tight as you both cry in the others arms. You both had made mistakes in the past with him and Pansy, you and Ron, the lying, the fighting, everything. You were both at fault. 

The two of you stood there in the middle of your living room, crying in each others arms about how fucked this whole thing was. Your relationship had gone through the wringer. You went through Umbridge, when he got his dark mark, the war, and an amnesia spell. Needless to say, you two’s love for each other has been put to the test multiple times. You were bound to crack at one point. And this was the breaking point. 

You pull away and look at each other. You both know what needs to happen, but neither of you want to say it. Draco takes a shaky breath in. “I don’t want you to leave, but I know you need to. We need to,” he speaks. 

You nod and wipe your eyes. “I know. We owe it to ourselves,” you rub his cheek. “I love you, Draco. Always and forever.”

“I love you, (Y/N). Always and forever. And that’s a promise. You know I don’t break those,” he tells you and that’s when you heart shatters. 

But it had to be done.

-----------------

You slowly walked up the rock path, bags in your hands as you sigh. You didn’t think you would be back at this place at this time, but here you were. You gently knock on the door and the door flings open to reveal George Weasley. “(Y/N)? I didn’t know you were coming over,” he smiles at you, but he notices your red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “Darling, what’s wrong?” he grabs your shoulders. “Come here,” he pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Look whose here,” George says as you walk in and he takes your bags.

On the couch, there sits Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. It was like they were expecting you. The sight of your close friends makes your heart swell and the tears start to brim your eyes. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Hermione rushes to you and embraces you in the tightest hug. “What happened?”

Ron grabs your hands and gives them a squeeze. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? Mum!” Ron calls, frantically as Ginny runs to find Molly Weasley. She would know what to do. 

“I’m fine everyone. Please. I’m fine,” you offer them a sad smile. “Um, Draco and I ended things. We realized neither of us are okay to be in a relationship right now,” you shrug as Hermione squeezes your hand. She could understand where you are coming from. “I decided to leave and let him stay in the flat. I just needed to get out and be with other people...You can say it, Ron. You told me so.”

Ron lets out a weak laugh, “I’m not gonna say that, (Y/N). I’m proud of you two though for leaving the relationship before it got ugly for the both of you.” You offer him a weak smile.  

You felt awkward standing there, luggage in the doorway, tear stained cheeks at the Burrow rather than going to your own home. You just knew you needed the comfort of your friends before going back to living with your parents after moving out. 

Before you knew it, Molly Weasley was in front of you. “Oh, poor girl. Come with me. Let me make you some tea. Ron, grab (Y/N) a blanket. Ginny, dear, go get the sandwiches from the fridge. We’ll get some good food in you, yeah?” she wraps an arm around you, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. 

In this moment, you felt your anxiety melt away and the sensation of comfort and warmth flooded your chest. The Weasleys always knew how to cheer you up. You knew just a few hours with the Weasleys would help soothe you and your broken heart. 

As you sit at the table with Ron and Hermione, you sip on a hot tea Molly made you and ham and cheese sandwiches. The three of you all made light chatter about what they’ve been up to during the past month. Ron and Hermione talk about how much more time they’ve been spending together and how they were thinking about moving into their own place. As they cuddled close in the chair, your heart warmed seeing your two best friends find love with each other. They both deserved every happiness in the world. But in all honesty, their love made you feel a sad and just reminded you of how painful this breakup was. 

Hermione notices your change in expression and she gives you a sad smile. “(Y/N),” she looks at you and then at Rod who takes a breath in. “Ron told me about...the night you spent here before you got back with Draco. About the kiss.” Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to speak. “There’s no need to explain yourself. Ron told me everything and I although it hurt at first, I understand your position. I’m not mad at you. I just want you to know that I’m not worried or angry.”

“’Mione,” you speak. “I’m still so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

She shakes her head. “Thank you and I understand. But I think it’s best for all of us to just move on.”

You nod and sip your tea as an awkward air lingers. Hermione breaks the silence again and says, “Besides that, just know that we are here for you, always. You’re our best friend. We’ll be here every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” you offer them both a smile.

“There’s a muggle saying,” Hermione speaks. “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they’re yours; if they don’t they never were.”

You giver her a small smile. “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

And she was right. Maybe this wasn’t perfect timing with Draco. Maybe you two weren’t ready to start a relationship again. Maybe you needed more time. Or maybe you two weren’t meant to be. But whatever happened you knew you had you friends and family to help you along the way.

------------

Six months had passed since the breakup and you had to admit that you were feeling so much better. You were living at home again with your parents, but working as an Auror now, making your own money and doing what you love alongside Ron. You had accepted your relationship with Draco and decided it was best to give him space. Even though the first few months were rough without him, you made it through better than ever.

So there you sat in St. Mungo’s, waiting for a Healer after hurting yourself on the job. It was a funny feeling being in the same hospital as you were seven and a half months ago after your head injury. You sat in the room, as the Healer’s assistant tells you, “The Healer should be in with you soon.”

You patiently wait around for the Healer, swinging your legs on the hospital chair until the door swings open. “Hello there, my name is Healer Malfoy, what seems to be the,” his eyes land on you, “problem.”

In front of you stood Draco, dressed neatly in black trousers, a button down, and tie with lime green robes on, the Healer crest neatly sewn on his chest. His hair was combed back and he had a little scruff on his face. He looked handsome. Grown up. “Draco,” you smile.

“Hi, (Y/N),” he smiles back brightly. “Um, lovely to see you again. It’s been a long time.” You nod, “Yeah, I know. I-I didn’t know you became a healer.”

He smiles wide, “Yeah. I started working here about five months ago. It’s been great so far. I really love the job.” You smile wide, knowing that Draco did it. He had wanted to be a Healer for so long and now he was finally doing it. You were so proud of him. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, taking in the other, realizing how long it has been and how much you missed the other. “Um, anyway, what can I help you with?”

“Yeah, um, I hurt my ankle running. I think I just twisted it,” you pull up your jeans to show him.

Draco grabs a stool and inspects, pressing on your ankle to see if there was any excess pain, swelling, or bruising. Although it was quite quick, you smiled watching him do his job. You could tell he loved his job more than anything.

“Here’s some pain potion. I’ll also tell the assistant to bring you out some more to help with the swelling and bruising,” Draco tells you as you thank him. “Well, it was really nice to see you, (Y/N). It’s...being a while...”

You sigh, “It was nice to see you too, Dray...” 

The two of you look at each other, longingly gazing at the other, so badly wanted to embrace the other. “I miss you,” Draco confesses.

“I miss you,” you repeat back. Draco gives you a sad smile. The two of you look at each other more, not saying anything else. What was there to say? You clear your throat, “I should go.”

Draco stops you, “Wait, (Y/N).” You turn around and see Draco nervously put his hands in his pockets. “I, um...would you...would you like to get dinner with me...sometime?” You bit down on your lip to conceal your smile. “If not, that’s fine, I understand. I just, um, thought I’d try...you look great.”

You lightly laugh and stop him, “I’d like to get dinner with you, Draco.”

“Great,” he beams. “Brilliant. I’ll be in touch then,” he blushes.

-------

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[roanniom]

✨Finally Friday✨ for your prompt submission, I would like to please throw this out for your consideration- dominant Flip with a praise kink and a breeding kink. All your writing is so good! 😘

Hello sweet anon, I’m happy to write that for you <3 (Sorry it took so gosh darn long lol)

Impatience 

Word Count: 2718

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation (F), PIV sex, slight edging, praise kink, light breeding kink

Note: While I mainly write fem readers, I do try my best to make all descriptions of reader to be inclusive, not specifying hair type, body size, or skin color. I would like to note that in a few moments at the beginning of this piece we are sort of in Flip’s perspective and parts of reader are referred to as “little.” This is not to be indicative of reader’s size, it simply a reflection of the fact that Flip is a literal fridge. That is all.

When Flip gets home, all he wants to do is shrug out of his jacket, pour himself a stiff drink, light a fresh cigarette and relax. It’s been a long day and an even longer night. Maybe you’re still up. Maybe you’ve kept a plate warming in the oven for him. Better yet, maybe you’ll suck him off after he finishes his drink and his cigarette and his hypothetically warmed food. Flip steps onto his front porch while rolling his shoulders, feeling the tension stored in his aching muscles from a shift filled with bullshit and limp-dicked incompetents.

Yes. A blow job before bed would do the trick, he thinks as he unlocks the front door. Instead of his usual silent entrance, the kind he uses when he doesn’t wish to disturb your potential sleeping state, he closes the door loudly. Selfishly hoping you’ll be conscious by the time he enters the bedroom, if you weren’t already.

After shrugging out of his jacket, as planned, he trudges down the hallway, considering his options for if he finds your sweet, sleeping form tucked in, undisturbed beneath the sheets. Just as he’s imagining how cute you look with your little hands tucked beneath your cheek on the pillow when you sleep, however, he hears a sound issuing from the slightly ajar bedroom door.

It’s you.

Moaning.

Peering through the sliver in the door, Flip takes in the most breathtaking sight he’s ever seen. There you are, kneeling on your knees on the bed. One hand is dipping into your panties, panties so thin and wet that he can see the outline of your hand as it stretches the fabric. As your finger rubs at your core, your little wrist jerking with the effort. His eyes drag up from your actions between your legs to find that your upper body is curved forward as you gaze down at something lying on the bed in front of you. With the hand not down your panties you are squeezing and kneading your breast, rolling the hardened nipple back and forth.

“Oh god. Oh Flip,” you mutter to yourself, still gazing down at whatever was on the bed before you.

Flip thinks this is the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Until he sees what you do next.

You must plunge your fingers deep into your core in the next minute because suddenly you’re grinding your little pussy down onto your hand, seeking more friction with a tiny, pathetic whine in your throat. And then you lean forward over the thing on the bed so that you’re on your hands and knees – well, one hand props you up. The other keeps working inside your panties.

Your hips undulate, ass in the air, as you continue to pleasure yourself, your breath escaping in light pants that make his cock feel like it can almost burst from the jeans that confine it. And while it might be the best show a person could ever hope to witness, Flip pushes open the door then. He never was one for spectating.

“What are you doing there, sugar?”

You don’t react suddenly. Instead, you look up slowly, staying in your position curled around the hand you’ve been using to pleasure yourself. You’re disheveled and he can see every emotion fill your eyes. Shock, panic, embarrassment, shame. All rolled up undeniably in the arousal that he has interrupted. You freeze in place looking up at him.

“I-I uh…Flip I didn’t know you’d…”  

Flip tsk’s a few times.

“No need to stop on my account.” he drawls, moving forward as you sit up straighter, fisting your now unoccupied hands in the sheets and pulling them up around you sheepishly. Flip sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches to finger the hem of the sheet where it covers your breasts. “Were you keeping the bed nice and warm for me, baby girl?”

Before you can respond, Flip pulls his leg up onto the bed and feels something crinkle under his knee on the mattress. He fishes through the sheets only to pluck out two polaroid pictures, now slightly dented.

His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene depicted on darkened film. Pictures of you on your hands and knees, same as he’d found you just now, only the view is from up and behind you, showing a large cock in the middle of the action of pounding you open. Flip’s cock. Flip sucks air in through his teeth.

“I was wondering where the rest of these pictures had gone from that weekend,” he chuckles and your belly, already warm with self-stoked arousal, surges with heat yet again. Your embarrassment at being caught begins to fade and you toy with the fabric of the sheets coyly.

“If you didn’t have to work all these late nights maybe I would have let you keep them.”

Flip reaches over to trace your smile, a twin one on his own lips.

“Do you really look at these when you touch yourself, baby girl?”

You bite your lip and nod in response, pulling your arm out from under the sheet to tug one of the polaroids out of his hand.

“You see this one?” You tap on the picture. “Your cock is beautiful here.”

“Beautiful, huh?” Flip adjusts his position on the mattress, spreading his legs to make room for the growth occurring between them.

“Yeah, when I look at this picture I can practically feel your perfect, fat cock splitting me open.”

Within a second the polaroids are on the floor, discarded so Flip can push you down onto the bed as he settles between your inviting legs.

“I like the way you talk about my cock.” Flip’s voice is gruff and his eyes are dark with lust, but you see a smile ghost his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Flip begins sucking on the tender flesh of your throat, pulling it into his mouth and nibbling just enough to mark you up the way he knows you pretend not to love. You make use of his distraction by popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down, working swiftly to get your hands on the cock in question. When your fingers wrap around his girth Flip shudders into your touch, hips bucking involuntarily.

“This cock is what I dream about.”

You can practically feel Flip puffing out his chest with a possessive sort of pride. He allows you to shuck off his jeans while he tosses his flannel and undershirt indiscriminately into a darkened corner of the room. Leaning down he nibbles on your earlobe, swiping a tongue across the shell of your ear to make you shiver.

“Tell me about these dreams, baby girl.” Flip’s voice is husky and low as it reverberates through your naked bodies. You press up against his chest, signaling for him to flip over. He obliges, tucking and rolling with you squeezed tightly to his chest so that you now straddle him and look down at him, beautiful with his wavy dark hair splayed on the pillow.  

“In my dreams you’re always hard,” you say as your hand wraps around his length. “Always ready to fuck me.”

“And what about you, sugar?” Flip slides his hand over your lower stomach and down to the cleft between your legs. “Is this pussy always wet for me?”

“Always.” You undulate your hips to punctuate your point, spreading your slick on the thick cock that stands at attention right before your entrance. Your hands splay against the hard planes of his abdomen as you watch his cock twitch against you.

“I think I like these dreams.” Flip moves to line himself up, but you grab his hands and push his arms back, leaning down to meet his lips as you pin his wrists down to the mattress above his head.

“Ah ah ah,” you breathe the words into his mouth on an exhale, hips grinding down and around to encase his cock in the velvet wet of your lower lips without allowing him full entrance. “Wanna make you feel good, detective.”

“You’re already making me feel good.” Flip’s voice is strained. Impatient to be inside you. You kiss your way back down his throat, his chest, his abdomen and watch the muscles go taught beneath his skin as your hips roll unhurriedly. You wrap both hands back around his cock this time and slowly move up and down.

“You work so hard, Flip.” On the word hard, you suddenly tug harder and Flip bucks up from under you. He’s grinning now, knowing where you’re going with this. When you slide your body down, nails raking up and down his legs, his cock knows what you’re doing, too.

He’d already been hard when he’d walked through the front door, picturing your swollen lips wrapped around his shaft. He’d already been hard when he’d found you pleasuring yourself to an image of him fucking you. But now, as your tongue traces the circumference of his flushed head, darting to the center to lap up his pre cum like some little sex kitten, Flip can’t take much more.

Feeling his hands shoot down and fist in your hair, you smile up at him over his bobbing length. Very much the cat that got the cream – an outcome you’re planning on ensuring.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day, handsome.”

“Well based on what I saw when I walked in, my sugar got a little impatient,” Flip counters with a dark chuckle.

You frown dramatically before dragging the tip of your tongue from root to tip using on the lightest pressure you can manage. Flip’s smile drops from his face in favor of a clenched jaw and a strained expression.

Your thumb and index finger circle around the base of his cock (as much as they can) to administer light, pulsing squeezes while you pepper equally light, open mouth kisses to his tip. The large hand in your hair attempts to push you down onto him gently but you tilt your neck to avoid his prompting, dipping down to settle your teasing attentions to the side of his shaft.

Fisted uselessly in the sheets beside you, Flip’s free hand catches your attention out of the corner of your eye and you reach out with your own free hand to interlace your fingers. Your tongue traces every vein on the flushed appendage, dips around every curve. Until his hands are squeezing your hand and your hair so tight and his legs shake around you.

When you lean back, your smile is smug.

“Who’s impatient?” you ask with all the innocence in the world in your tone, but nothing but sin in your eyes.

Before you can bask in his reaction, you’re being flipped over and yanked up the bed. Flip lifts you up onto your knees and makes you brace your hands against the headboard, all before unceremoniously plunging his cock into you in a single thrust.

“Oh my god, Flip oww. You’re – fuck! You’re too big…” You mean to complain that he is too big to just split you open without prepping you, but the force of his thrusts knocks the wind and the words out of your mouth.

“Oh really? I thought you liked my big dick,” Flip growls in your ear. He’s curled down over your body, his sweat slicked chest pressing to your back as he snaps his hips over and over and over.

“I do, I – I do.” You manage to hiccup.

“Wasn’t that what you were saying? You like my big, fat cock?”

“I love your cock!” you cry out as both a correction and a declaration. Flip’s lips connect with the back of your neck and your back arches deeper, allowing him to drive deeper into you in turn.

“Yeah, you love my cock.” Flip’s voice is husky and even deeper than usual in your ear and you moan in response. “And it loves you.” Flip adjusts his hold on you, tightening his grip on your hips so he can pull you back into him with every thrust.

“I wish I could see you,” you whine. You’re not really annoyed, more teasing him for the way he’s commandeered your lovemaking. You hear him rustle through the sheets for something before he tosses something lightly which lands on the pillow beneath you.

“Here you go.” Flip’s voice is filled with amusement. Opening your eyes you look down and let out a breathless laugh when you see the polaroid from earlier. As you gaze down at the picture of Flip’s cock splitting you open, the real deal goes on right behind you, shoving you forward and making you screw your eyes shut in restless pleasure again.

The orgasm you’d been so close to having when Flip walked in all of a sudden seems to have returned rapidly, simmering right on the threshold. When you slide your hand down to rub your clit, however, you pass over your lower stomach and moan louder than you had previously.

“Mmm, is that good, baby? Hmm? Right there, sugar?” Flip asks. Instead of responding verbally you peel one of his hands from your hip and place it on your lower stomach. When he feels it – feels his cock as it presses into your belly from below, pounding so deep that you’re more filled with him than he’d imagined – he thinks he’s going to cum right then and there.

Flip’s hips stutter for just a moment before they resume their motions with intensified speed.

“Holy shit, sugar.” Flip almost laughs incredulously. “You’re taking me so well.”

“I want it.”

“You want my cock? I’m giving it to you, baby,” Flip coos, almost comforting you as you seem to fall apart beneath him.

“No. Your cum.”

“Does my baby want me to cum? Want me to feel good, is that it?” Flip’s hand finishes the migration that yours never did, fingers finally reaching your clit and rubbing deep circles into the swollen bud.

“Yes…but no.” You sound desperate now, the added pressure at your clit bringing tears to your eyes. “I want you to fill me with your cum.”

The sound that issues from Flip then is nothing short of a growl.

“Oh I’ll fill you with my cum alright, baby.” The force of his snapping hips causes your arms to give out, no longer able to hold onto the headboard. Your cheek presses into the sticky film of the polaroid picture as you writhe beneath Flip. “I’ll fill you up so much that your stomach will be swollen with much more than my cock.”

The combination of Flips words, his thumb on your clit, his cock pounding into your aching cunt – all of it works together to throw you over the edge into a blaze of ecstasy that lights you on fire from your crown right to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your muscles quake as Flip gives his last thrust before painting your walls with hot cum that seeps out between your legs.

You don’t remember Flip pulling out of you. Neither do you remember him turning you over or him tucking you up under his arm. The next thing you do remember is him peeling the polaroid picture off your warm cheek and holding it out for you to see, laughter rumbling in his chest beneath you.

“It’s ruined!” You exclaim with displeasure, reaching out for the now bruised photo, touching a finger to the discolored splotch in the middle of the image.

“Nah, it’s just another excuse to break out the camera and fuck you silly by the fire.” Flip’s hand lazily caresses the back of your arm, eyes closed and already close to falling into a deep, sated sleep. The giggle that issues unbidden from your lips gets him to pop one eye open in amusement over the foreign sound.

“Maybe you already have fucked me silly,” you concede. Flip tucks you tighter against him and shakes his head.

“I think I can fuck you sillier, don’t you worry about that.” You nestle into his warm body as he sighs a deep, pleased sigh before adding, “Just don’t think I’ve forgotten you still owe me a real fucking blow job.”

~*~

Tagging some lovely people (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in future work!): @mariesackler @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @sacklerscumrag @paper-in-ashes-fanfiction @historyandfandoms50 @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo​ @morby​ @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic

[yandere-sins]

Take what you can (Osamu)

Summary: You are to marry the fox spirit Kita Shinsuke after you accidentally agreed to become his wife by signing the deed to your new home. A contract is a contract, he says, but is there more to this marriage than you know? Will you be whisked away by one of the foxy twins instead, or have to marry Kita after all? Can you be with a creature that only seems tender on the surface, or will you try to run even if it might cost you your life? Choose your route carefully, you never know what these foxes are up to!

Characters: Kitsune!Miya Osamu x afab!Reader

Rating: Explicit    

Warnings for this chapter: Yandere, Forced/Unhealthy Relationship,  Unfaithfulness,  Manipulation,  Publicly making out, Sexual Implictions, Biting/Bite marks, Scratches, Pregnancy, Mentioning of fox features/disfiguration, Emotional Pressure

Bolder, you thought as you pressed against Osamu, only the thin paper door separating you two from the housekeepers bustling around in the hallways behind it. 

Osamu smirked into the kiss but returned it just as affectionately. Just as needy even. As if you two could only breathe if it was the air from each other's lungs. Perhaps that was the case, as you two fell more and more into your depraved lifestyle, defying any rule or pride you should upkeep while being the clan's headmistress. However, all you wanted was to risk it all and to get a moment more of the prickling and fear of getting caught inside of you. If not for the adrenaline this affair gave you, you probably wouldn't have made it as long as you did in your current life situation.

All those meaningless celebrations, receptions, and tea parties with chatter that you couldn't care less about, they were mangling you. Day in, day out, you had to endure having your feelings and roots trampled on as the foxes tried to make you more and more into what they were. They were trying to forget you were human, while you were trying to forget they were not - just to keep your sanity. 

Hadn't you tried your best to please them? Hadn't you tried to become what they wanted you to be, at least on the outside? Obliged to all their wishes? Listened to all their worries? You sure did.

But it wasn't enough.

These foxes were trying to suck out everything they could get from you. You'd have served them better as a broken porcelain doll than what you were right now. This way, they'd just have to pretty you up and have you sit still at Shinsuke's side whenever there was an official meeting. Truly, you had tried learning their customs and history, understand your role to fit it better. Still, you simply couldn't meet their expectations in the end. They'd keep setting up new ones for you, and when you climbed the hill, another mountain appeared before your eyes. You'd always be a failure to them, no matter what you did. The only joy you had left was that bold, foxy guard you had. The only one who accepted you and didn't try to change you into anyone else. 

By now, even though you knew you didn't have a big choice in who to be with, you were happy to take what you could, and that was Osamu. 

Leaning into the kiss, you didn't care about the bustling noises outside. Anytime now, someone could find you, but that made everything just so much more fun, didn't it? Whereas in the beginning, you two had been so careful to hide and not be seen, it was now a game of how far you could go until you got caught. 

Osamu had nerves of steel pulling you into every shadow and every small hallway to kiss you, touch you, please you. When the wind rose, and everyone defended their eyes by keeping them hidden behind the enormous sleeves of their clothes, he pulled you towards him to kiss you passionately. And when your handmaid left you for the night, he snarkily told her to have a lovely evening before slipping into the room behind her. 

In your opinion, it wasn't unlikely someone had already noticed. Noticed the lack of guards around your room at night, the hair in your futon, or perhaps, simply your absence from some social gathering, where no one knew about your or Osamu's whereabouts. He was never there to ask, and though they were relieved you probably were together, the foxes couldn't help but murmur behind held-up paws. 

But who cared? Not Osamu, that much was sure.

Or if he did, he didn't let it show. His interest in you didn't falter, even if in the beginning you still pushed him away and denied his intimate attempts of loving you. You had been like a scared chicken in the faces of the foxes. Scared that he'd leave a scratch, scared he'd leave a mark, and scared that someone could notice. Not that any of it mattered anymore, since you, too, had become bolder.

"Show me," he asked a tender demand. His hand slipped into your kimono as you felt the heat rise in your face. Osamu had seen you before, there was nothing you needed to hide from him. But what if someone would enter this room? What would they see?

Nonetheless, you dropped the heavy fabric off your shoulder - enough to expose most of your bare body to him - doing a half turn and pulled your arm out of the way. A mix of excitement and anticipation made your breath shake lightly as you drew the air in deeply. There it was, perfectly visible due to his sharp fangs, not too high or too low, on the side of your body but more into the direction of your back: His mark. One of them, at least.

How thoughtful had it been of him, to leave it where not even Shinsuke would notice? Even if your husband touched your side, his fingers wouldn't feel the bumps that the imprint of teeth left on you. Being with Shinsuke was a walk in the park in comparison to what all Osamu did to you. With your husband not forcing you into a position you didn't want, there really wasn't anything to fear even with Osamu's signature on your body. Yet, it was so damn risky, it made you tingly inside all over again. 

There was another bite on your ankle, a deep scratch on your shoulder, and if someone looked closely, your left ear was nibbled on too. They were there, truly they were. The marks of defiance and, to you, the symbols of freedom. The freedom to chose and be with whoever you want to and do whatever you wished to. No one, not even Shinsuke, could have taken that from you, even if he believed you were the perfect little wife waiting for him at home. But you were in the arms of someone else entirely.

"Oh, it's healing nicely," Osamu commented, his touch so soft, it sparked excitement in you. "Is that good?" you asked since it was your first and oldest mark. 

"So-so," he grumbled, and you felt an anxious sting as you heard that. However, against your worries that it was upsetting him, Osamu rose again with a grin, leaving a quick, rough kiss on your cheek before whispering into your ear, "Just means I can leave a new one."

You chuckled as he helped you get dressed again, getting ready to leave. You'd have loved to step out of this storage room without having to check that no one was around, but of course, it all wasn't that easy in the end. Oh, how much joy would it have given you to hold Osamu's hand, displaying it to everyone, and have him walk by your side, and not two steps behind you? To not hide what you two were doing behind closed doors and in the shadows, leaving everyone else to speculate? Undoubtedly, your life would have been filled with felicity and happiness, but it wasn't the fate meant for you. 

Stepping out after checking that no one would see you emerge, you two made your way down the long halls of the mansion, passing by the seemingly endless rooms and the inside garden towards your own chambers. The workers you met bowed respectfully as they let you pass, but a look over your shoulder revealed the grimaces they still threw at Osamu. However, you didn't have to worry about him. The expressions he returned made them gasp and trot off indignantly, leaving him to show you a victorious smile and making you chuckle quietly. Just as much as you loved messing with everyone by pretending to be a good wife to their clan leader, Osamu liked to mess with everyone who still couldn't accept that a 'runt' like him was to be your personal guard, following their dear lady everywhere. 

They didn't recognize or bothered that Osamu was just as much a prisoner in their community as you were. One night, he had opened up about why he was here, how he saved his brother from being killed by Tengu, dragging him here and into the safety of the clan. How Kita had allowed them to stay and how Osamu's twin had left since he couldn't bring himself to adjust to this way of living. The twins had lived alone all their lives. To join this community surely hadn't been an easy change for them. Nevertheless, you were glad that Osamu, for the first time, decided to separate from his brother in favor of staying. You were relieved that even though you both were in dire circumstances, you at least had each other to be 'different' with. 

By now, you couldn't deny your yearning for the guard trotting after you. The pull on your heartstrings whenever your eyes met, and the jump in your chest when he said your name. If only all this around you wasn't, you believed you could have become happy at Osamu's side. To you, he was simply perfect. He could do no wrong in your eyes, even if you weren't aware of all his intentions and thoughts. Yet, you had never felt so connected with anyone, despite not knowing if it was just because of this situation you were in. Nevertheless, you hoped that he knew. 

Knew that you'd have done anything if it was for him. 

"Ah, Milady," you heard someone call out to you, tearing you out of your thoughts. A noble fox woman, with her face sheepishly covered by her sleeve as she approached you. Was she new? Despite the fox-faces being able to change, you thought you'd recognize most of them by now, but this one didn't make you remember a name or role in the clan. "I apologize for approaching you so rudely," she said, but you knew she wasn't sorry at all. 

"My husband and I are here to visit Kita-sama for talks about our shared borders of your respective clans, and I intended to greet his wife. We only briefly met at your wedding, however, I hope you remember me?"

If not for the smile you put on, you could have bit yourself, finally remembering who she was. Pesky was the word that appeared in your mind, as she had bothered you with her talking back at the wedding celebrations, disregarding your unwell appearance in favor of declaring that you two would have a friendship for all your life. Then she never so much as wrote you. Still, it was rude if you were to tell her off, and after all you did to get to this point, you had to keep your face. 

"Indeed, what a pleasure to see you again! Welcome to our home!" you laughed, bowing in unison with her as she let out a few chuckles herself. The faked happiness seemed to not bother her in the slightest if she noticed it in your voice, probably used to it by now, considering most of the conversation she must have with other foxes. In a way, she wasn't so much different from you, but as a fox herself, she could at least live the lifestyle and the customs of her kind, which would always be odd to you. 

"Thank you, I am so happy I was able to meet you! Your maid said you weren't in your room currently, so I was hoping to find you wandering about. I heard you like to disappear from time to time."

Ah, there it was. The accusations that would lead to even more talking behind your back about how unfit for your role you were.

"I wouldn't call it disappearing, but you know how hard it is to keep up with the duties. Especially considering our clan is so much bigger than yours. It takes me almost the whole day, wouldn't you know?" 

Luckily, you had gotten better at the game of talking, too, and she let out a huff before finally lowering her hand and revealing her fox snout to you. You had grown to see all kinds of features, but it was nevertheless weird to experience the sight of half-human, half-fox faces. "Well, I am sure you've been keeping very busy. How far are you?"

Making a step forward, the fox didn't ask for your consent as she touched the tiny baby bump below your stomach, feeling it. "We are on the twelfth week," you laughed, pushing her hand away and taking a liberating step back. Of course, other clans had already heard the 'good' news about the child growing inside you, many of them already sending you their well-wishes, and she wasn't any different. 

"How nice," she snarked, her maw never ceasing to grin the same sly smile you were used to. "Hopefully it will be a little cub worth of taking over the leadership of his father someday, like my son. My family has always been blessed to bear male offspring. One of the reasons my hubby chose me all those years ago, and I've been blessing him with many pups ever since. How about yours?"

It wasn't a topic you wanted to discuss with some obscure fox, but you couldn't let her - with her snarky remarks and trying to one-up you - win this war of words either. "Well, I was chosen because my husband loves me, not because I am certainly bearing sons. Whatever it wants to be, that is fine with me. Who knows? Maybe I'll get to raise a sweet daughter to be the future leader of our clan, wouldn't that be lovely?"

It sounded like a mix of growl and huff that she let out as she puffed her chest, regaining a straight posture in contrast to the usual hump you saw many foxes do. Instantly, she appeared much taller and more menacing, but at the same time, you felt Osamu closing in to you, and in his presence, you felt safe while she seemed to be appalled to be faced with your guard more closely now. "Don't be absurd, that wouldn't be lovely at all! You should know that only sons can--"

Suddenly, she turned around as a yapping was heard from afar. It was harder for you to witness than the two foxes with you, but she returned to you with another faked, friendly smile, bidding her goodbyes. "I look forward to meeting again," she cooed before waddling back into the direction she had come from, the conversation ending as abruptly as it had started. The farther she got, the more you could see over her statue, noticing Shinsuke standing at the end of the hallway with another male fox who might just have been the lady's husband as she walked back to him.

They all bowed to each other as they spoke their farewells, Shinsuke waiting until they were gone before his head turned to you, arms leisurely crossing before him and hidden from sight by his own sleeves as approaching you casually. "I hope she wasn't pestering you," he spoke, knowing well just what kind of person that woman was. "I wouldn't want her to stress you and the baby too much."

His lips curled into a smile as he spoke of the child inside you, and you let him approach you closely, his lips making fleeting contact with your cheek while his hand landed on your belly. Shinsuke, too, loved thinking of the kid, perhaps more than about you. By now, you were able to take it better than you did initially as you had to noticed how much nicer he treated you ever since you became pregnant, giving you back some freedom and relieving you of parties and work if you weren't feeling well. It showed exactly what kind of role you had, and it was a lot to take. Luckily you had Osamu by your side to vent to. 

"I have to go now, Dearest. Osamu, take care of her, will you?" Shinsuke gave your guard a short, appreciative glance, and Osamu nodded, your husband not minding it that he didn't always follow proper manners when talking to the leader. And as quick as he had appeared, he was gone again, and you were unsure if you'd even see him before breakfast on the next morning as Shinsuke never shared what he had to do and where he went. 

"Come on." Pressing his hand into your back, Osamu pushed you on, you two having no clear destination but no reason to remain in the middle of a hallway either. "It's frustrating," you whispered, and he sighed, knowing how bitter it was to you to be… well, you. "Those people, Kita, everything. Everything is simply frustrating."

Gentlemanly, Osamu opened the door to your room for you, at least one gesture he had internalized in all this time. After all, he knew better than you if someone was waiting behind a door, so he was an excellent guide whenever you two needed to find some privacy. "Only you…" you muttered as you stepped in, hearing the door close behind you. Turning around, you faced him, and he opened his arms for you to flee into. You tightly embraced him, hoping that perhaps it would change the world if all you could see, feel, and hear was the person you loved. 

"Only you are not frustrating."

Osamu let out a low laugh, his chest trembling under your head, but you loved that sound. "I know," he eventually said, brushing his hair over your head soothingly. His touch was so sweet and comforting, you could only melt into it. If it was for you, you could have stayed like this forever, as you felt a place of belonging in his arms.

 "That's why you love me, right?" 

Hearing the word 'love' fall off his lips made you shudder excitedly, warmth rushing back to your face as your heart picked up the speed. It always sounded like a dream come true when he acknowledged your feelings, and you were just so happy that he understood you. "Right," you mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. However, Osamu had very different plans for you. 

"You love me, so you'll never leave me, right?"

These words caught you off-guard, and when he surprisingly pushed you back at your shoulders, you almost expected him to have some form of nervousness and or hurt in his expression. However, when you looked up at him questioningly, you were taken aback by what you saw. 

You loved Osamu, and by now, you thought you knew him fairly well too. But the shine of jealousy, paired with the tight grip on your shoulders and the demanding and disdainful look on his face - that was new. In fact, never had you seen him show even one of those emotions, and you were overwhelmed with how to react appropriately to them. 

"O-Of course not," you stuttered, rubbing your hands affectionately over his arms, hoping it would ease the hold he had on you and soothe his worries. "You know that I would never even think about it."

"Good." Immediately, his features soften, and he allowed you back into his embrace, even though you felt a bit confused by what just happened. "Promise me then," he continued, whispering the words into your ears, "that you won't let him kiss you next time."

Now it was you who pushed yourself away from him, but no matter the strength you used, you had no chance to get away, caught in his arms that seemed to snake around you more and more by the second. "If you truly love me, you wouldn't let this filth touch you. You know I am the one who marked you; no other man should come so close to you."

"O-Osamu," you croaked, his strong arms beginning to squeeze the air out of your lungs. "He's my husband… I can't just--"

"You can. Just tell him no."

"But he will notice and--"

"So what? Let him notice. Let him know who you belong to."

Biting your lip, you didn't know what to say, but even in your situation, you could understand what Osamu must be feeling. It must have taken its toll on him too when he saw Shinsuke touch or kiss you, and it must affect him to see you so down afterwards also. 

Much to your surprise, his grip suddenly loosened, and he gave you free as you didn't react and ceased your struggles. You took a deep breath as you stumbled back a few steps, looking up at him. "I see," he noted dully, and you felt your heart break as his shoulders slumped and ears lowered sadly. "I guess in the end, I'll never be good enough in comparison to your lovely husband, is that it? My company isn't worth enough for a few favors, I suppose..."

"N-No!" you practically screamed at him, an irrational fear rising in you as you heard these words. It sounded almost like he'd leave you, and you panicked as the thought crossed your mind. "No! You know I'd do anything for you! Osamu--"

With a sigh, the fox had already turned, walking towards the door as you caught up to him, slinging your hands around his torso frantically and pressing up against him. "Anything. If you want me to refuse him… I'll find a way, I guess. Please don't be mad with me. I need you, Osamu! You're all I want in my life."

For a moment, it was painfully quiet between you two until finally, his hand laid on top of yours, and he nodded. "I understand," he mumbled, turning around and lowering his head to kiss you, an affection you eagerly returned. You never wanted to let go of his lips or his warmth. No matter what you had to do, if it would keep him at your side, you'd do it all. 

In your desperation, you couldn't have known that Osamu was no fox to trust either. There weren't options to chose from, and there was no one quite like him that would have gone through with everything you wanted, knowing fully well it gave him the reign to demand anything he wanted from you. Osamu knew you were but a puppet in his hands, and he was the puppeteer. But who else did you have to turn to? Who else could return your feelings? There was no one, and nothing could tear you two apart, as he was all you had left, and you had to take your best shot at what you could in this village full of fakeness and arrogant traditions. And that was him.

"I know it's hard for you too," he soothed you, brushing away the anxious tears in your eyes before leaving a kiss on each lid. "I'll try to not demand too much from you, so how about… Instead, promise me something else?"

Taking a deep breath, you nodded firmly. "I will. Tell me what you want," you assured him, giving the corners of his smiling lips a kiss each. "I'll do all I can."

"Thank you," he sighed, pulling you into a comforting hug, his body warm and enveloping you securely. "Then promise me…" he whispered. You had your heart set on doing whatever he would tell you to. He was all you had, and you'd treasure Osamu with everything you could offer to him, mind, body, and soul.

"Promise me that the next child will be mine as well."

It was a foolish wish, of a foolish fox, biting off more than he could eat. But if he could have his fun in this village while also having you do all the work for him, and have the pleasure of being loved by you, then Osamu would gladly take it. 

Foolish as you were, you looked up at him as if he was the god that was going to deliver you from your pitiful existence. 

And you smiled and agreed, sealing the fox promise with a kiss of eternal devotion.

a/n: I think Osamu’s route is my personal favorite of all of them, simply because it’s nasty, lol. I tried to keep Osamu’s intention a bit open for the sake of keeping him mysterious and mischievous, but he’s obviously very manipulative in his yandere being. Still, as a fox, I think that was a good vibe to go for! Let me know what you thought, I’d love to hear your opinions on his route ^-^

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Something Sweet

Chapter 3: Concerts and Cupcakes

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Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, Paz is a consent king, cumming outside (in this fandom? Shocking I know), swearing, angst at the end

Summary: You and Paz continue to spend time together and you have the misfortune of meeting “the guy” your friends warned you about... Gideon.

The following Tuesday you and Paz hang out with the group like usual, and give no indication that anything has changed or that you have plans to go together to the outdoor concert next weekend. But you can’t deny, you’re excited for it.

Finally Saturday rolls around. This time, you decide, it is a date. Or at least you’re gonna treat it like one. You pick a pretty sundress, comfortable shoes, do your hair and makeup. You also put a bag together with snacks, sealed mason jars with rum punch, a picnic blanket and a lawn chair.

Paz picks you up in his truck, and helps you load up your stuff into the back. He even opens the passenger door for you! The park is set up with a walking path, several meadows, sports fields, a playground and water feature fountain and an amphitheater surrounding a beautiful community center building.

The stage is set up for the outdoor performance. Community members and concert goer’s set up their picnic blankets and lawn chairs on the grassy slope of the amphitheater. Children run and play. Couples young and old share glasses of wine and snacks waiting for the concert to start.

After getting the blanket and the chairs set up, you pass him one of the jars of rum punch and sit back to chat and hang out until the concert starts. You take a moment to pause, and look about at all the happy people enjoying the warm summer evening and spending time with their friends, family, neighbors…

“This” you gesture with your hand “this is what I always wanted…”

Paz smiles warmly, sipping the drink you made for him. “Yeah, once you get a taste of living in a place like this… you can’t ever go back to living in crowded city where people don’t want anything to do with each other”

You chuckle “Or back to a rural town where your closest neighbor was a 10 minute drive away”

“I don’t know what sounds worse, never seeing anyone or being surrounded by people that act like you don’t exist” he shakes his head

“Well, I’m glad we both made it here” you say happily “because this is amazing”

Paz can’t hold back the smile on his face. Seeing you so happy and content, he can’t help but feel like the two of your were both meant to find this place.

The concert starts up, and the band is amazing! They play a lot of covers of popular music you hear on the radio and a lot of throwback music that used to be popular. Everyone in the crowd seems to know all the words. The band involves the crowd getting people to get out of their seats to singe and dance.

You feel alive and free, electrified by the familiar music and friendly atmosphere. You take Paz’s hand when a song you really love comes on, and drag him out of his seat to dance. He surprises you by offering almost no resistance and actually sings along with you. The two of you don’t sit down again until the concert is over, dancing and singing the night away.

When the concert ends, you’re a little bummed out it’s over. But Paz recommends that you stay a while in the park and let the crowds thin out before leaving, and you are more than happy to stay. The night air is warm, and the sun hasn’t quite set yet.

The two of you lay out on the blanket, folding down the lawn chairs to make room. Laying of your backs, you watch the sky dim. Turning orange, pink, violet and then fading to a deep midnight blue as the stars start to appear. He’s telling you an animated story story about him and Din pulling pranks and getting in trouble together as kids. You’re smiling and laughing, feeling incredibly warm and light.

Eventually he does have to drive you back to your apartment. He walks you to the door and lets you unlock it before you turn around. He’s standing close, very close.

“Thank you for inviting me out tonight” you say softly “I had so much fun”

He smiles, “Thank you for saying yes”

“Goodnight” you whisper leaning into him

“Goodnight” he closes his eyes and leans down, pressing his lips to yours. He breaks the kiss, pulling back a little.

But you pull him back, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing him again. He responds in kind, sliding his large hands over your hips and holding you to him while he kisses you.

This time you break the kiss, pulling away and leaning your forehead on his. You push the door open behind you with one hand. You glance behind you inside, and back to him. A silent invitation. But he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Stay” you ask softly

That’s enough for him. He kisses you again, and walks you backwards inside. Closing the door behind him. He leans back against the door and pulls your into him, getting you to hop up and put your legs around him.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. Your soft lips, gentle hands, quiet breaths and moans as he kisses you. He wants this. He has wanted this. And the little sundress you’re wearing has only fanned that flame today. But still…. he has to be sure. He pulls back and bit.

“Hey, hey, hey” he whispers “tell me you want this. Tell me this okay?”

Your heart flutters. Surely he knows that you want him, but he wants to hear it. He needs to hear it.

“I want this Paz” you say, kissing him again “I want you”

He squeezes your hip, and kisses you again. You drop your legs back down, and lead him back to your bedroom. Pulling him down onto the comforter with you.

His hands roam over your body catching at the hem of your dress, and sliding up along your thighs. You hum into his mouth, and slide your hands under his shirt. You pull your hands back and lift your hips and then your back, to help him get your dress worked up over your head and arms.

He reaches back with one hand, and pulls his shirt up over his head and drops it down on the floor with your dress. You shiver a little, taking in his broad bare chest and well muscled forearms. He on the other hand is lovingly gazing down at you. Soft skin, gentle curves, pretty… matching… panties and bra.

He leans back down, eager to feel your soft skin against him. His hand smoothes over the material of your bra, fingers trailing over the edge and slipping down underneath. Your breath catches in your throat. His hands are firm and worn, textured against your supple breast.

“Still okay honey?” He asks, moving his lips down to kiss your jaw and down your neck

“Y-yeah” you run your fingers through his thick dark hair as he kisses his way down to your collarbone, still tenderly stroking and squeezing your breast.

He kisses all the way down to your breastbone, and slips his hands around your back to undo the clasps of your bra. Sliding the strap over your shoulders and carefully tossing it away with the rest of your discarded clothes. He cups both in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, and brushing his nose over your soft skin. Slowly kissing his way up the slope of one of your breasts, he tilts his head over and draws your nipple into his mouth sucking gently.

“Beautiful” he mutters pulling off and switching to the other, “so beautiful”

You try your best not to squirm in anticipation, but Paz notices.

“You getting wet for me sweetheart?” He purrs, his hand leaves your breast and trains down to stroke you through your panties finding them slightly damp. “Oh love, do you like when I touch you?”

“Yes” you shutter out “Paz… please”

“Don’t worry gorgeous, I’ll give you what you need” his fingers dip below your panties, and slide between your folds.

Your eyes flutter shut. His fingers move with ease, aided by your slick. He stops for just a moment, to help you shimmy out of your panties, before he goes right back for your wet heat. He pushes in a finger and swallows your breathy gasp with his own mouth as he kisses you. His pace is slow, for now curling his finger within you. He adds a second finger stretching your opening a bit wider, relishing your soft moans and whimpers of pleasure.

You flinch, and cling to his arms in a reflexive movement as this thumb swipes over your clit and begins rubbing in circles. He picks up the pace, building you up quicker.

“There you go honey, my fingers feel good?” He huffs

“Yes… Paz… feels so good” you moan “please”

“Come on sweetheart, come on my fingers” he keeps up his pace, putting more attention into stimulating your clit.

The pressure builds up, every pass of his thumb over your clit seems to wind you up tighter until finally it snaps! Washing over you like a tidal wave, leaving your breathless and soaking.

He kisses you again, and begins stroking through your folds again, allowing you to ride out waves of your orgasm. You kiss him back, when your senses return to you a moment later.

“How is it that I am completely naked and boneless in pleasure, and you’ve still got pants on” you joke “doesn’t seem fair”

He chuckles and pulls back, going to undo his belt. You sit up with him, seeing the tent in his pants and moving to help him shed his jeans.

He steps out of his pants and boxers, and stands before you, hard and dribbling precum. He’s massive. Granted, he’s a big guy, you figured he would be proportional… but he is impressive to say the least.

“Not to give you an ego, but holy shit” you chuckle, making no attempt to hide your gaze.

How can any man hear that, and not have a bit of a head rush? He grins. “You like what you see sweetheart?”

“Get over here” you laugh, reaching out with both arms. He obliges you, and let’s you pull him down again to kiss. You can feel his cock pressed against you, insistent and aching. You roll your hips against him, teasing… inviting.

“Your turn” you whisper, reaching down and lining him up with your entrance. This time his breath hitches, he’s rather worked up and it’s been a while since he had a partner.

As he presses in, your warmth consumes him. Your walls are tight, velvety soft, and wet. He grunts a bit and he pushes forward, watching himself disappear within you. You moan too, the stretch is delicious and pleasant.

He sets a steady pace, drawing your legs up, placing one hand at your hip and the other above your head.

“You okay?” He grits out, always so attentive

You moan in response, “Yes, you can go a little faster, I’m good”

He follows your direction and picks up his pace, taking your moans and pleas fore more as guidance. He’s pounding into you, and groaning.

“Close” he grits out “where?”

“Outside” you gasp “anywhere you want”

He gets in a couple more good thrusts before he abruptly pulls out and jerks himself off, spilling his load over your stomach.

Having just came his mind is clear, and his body is calm. He realizes he finished before you could come a second time, a fact that he remedied by pushing his still hard cock back in and resuming his pace and dropping a hand down to rub your clit.

“Come on gorgeous” he praises “one more”

He’s getting a bit over stimulated, but he pushes through for you. Your orgasm is white hot, and searing. Unlike the first that crested like a wave, this one explored like fireworks behind your eyes as your cum on his cock.

You lay together for a couple minutes, breathing heavily, and savoring the postcoital bliss. You reach out, and lace your fingers with his. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb.

“The concert next week is supposed to be smooth jazz” he chuckles “any chance you’ll let me take you on a second date?”

You laugh and lean over, and kiss his cheek. “It’s a date”

In the weeks that follow you and Paz continue hanging out with your friends on Tuesday nights. Going to the outdoor concerts on Saturday nights, and now going back and forth between each other’s apartments for dinner after work. Watching movies together, testing new recipes, learning new baking techniques and of course enjoying each other in the bedroom.

At first you both agreed not to tell anyone in the group. It’s a new relationship, and you didn’t want to get teased or asked a thousand questions. You just wanted to enjoy it, and each other. But as summer drew to a close and the chill of fall started turning the leaves and picking up the breeze, you couldn’t pretend or deny it anymore.

Of course literally everyone already knew or had their suspicions. What kind of people spend that much time together outside of work, aren’t in a relationship?

———

A few weeks into September you’re working on making new macrame plant pot holders during one of the slower parts of the day and listening to quiet music, humming along as you work. When the door opens and the bell tinkles to alert you. You look up, smiling at your customer. An older man, with a dark complexion, thin mustache, and an unsettling smile. Nevertheless you’ve had stranger clientele before, and you treat them all the same.

“Hello, can I help you find something today?” You greet him

“No, actually I was hoping that I could help you” he says approaching the counter.

“Oh? And how is that?” You have a bad feeling about this.

“My name is Gideon” he introduces himself “and I have a vested interest in the economic and cultural growth of this city”

Gideon. That name rings a bell. This is the guy your friends had told you about. You square your shoulders, stand your ground, and keep a neutral expression as he tries to dazzle you with ideas of “the city of tomorrow”.

“Of course, to make all of this come true all of the buildings in this area would need to be cleared and updated. I would love to make you an offer for your storefront, upto and exceeding ten fold what you paid for it”

“Mr. Gideon” you cut him off “it may surprise you to know that I am already fully aware of your vision for this city. What you seem to fail to realize is that no one that lives or works here shares your vision”

“That’s where I believe you are mistaken little girl, there are many who think this city has great potential” he says calmly “I know this city can be more than what it is now. I know it and I want it. Believe me, I get what I want”

“Unfortunately for you Mr. Gideon, you do not get to make those kinds of decisions. And no one will sell out to you to turn our dreams into your profit” you’re getting irritated now, and just want him to leave. You really want to call Paz.

“I could make you a rich woman. I am not the only one that would benefit from this change” he tried to persuade you

“Money can’t buy happiness Mr. Gideon. I worked my whole life to be here, and I am happy having my business here. And I will continue to be here as long as it makes me happy. Come Hell or high water I will stand” you say with confidence and surety, almost daring him to challenge you again.

Finally he backs off, but insists you take his business card… “In case you change your mind, or you find your business no longer makes you happy”

The second the door closes behind him, you grab your phone and call Paz, asking him to come over to your shop as soon as he can when he’s done closing. I Gideon gets in a sleek black car, and speeds away just as Paz comes through the front door.

“You okay?” Paz asks, coming behind the counter. You peer out the window and watch the car make the right hand turn off of the street.

You’re frustrated and upset, you gesture out the window with one hand and smack the other down on the counter.

“You guys warned me about they guy Gideon, but you didn’t mention how much he would infuriate me” you grumble

“Gideon was just here?” Paz asks

“Yeah, came in here preaching about how he’s going to transform this city and make us all fabulously rich,” you tell him “when you know good and well he would cheat us out of every penny he could”

He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You told him to fuck off right?” He asks

You wrap your arms around him too, and lean your head on his chest “Pretty much. I worked too long and too hard to get here to give it up”

“Good” he says “A guy like him will never understand why we do things the way we do. Your flowers and my bread are more than just…. things for others to buy for us… he’ll never understand something like that”

That’s exactly right. Boba has his pub. Din has his tattoo shop… everyone worked hard to get what they have, and it means something to each of us. Men like Gideon will never understand that.

About a month later, the weather has turned cold and the days are getting shorter. You and Paz have been making plans for Halloween, and working on fall flavored treats for Paz’s bakery.

But tonight you are over at his apartment, baking cupcakes, watching YouTube videos and practicing frosting piping techniques.

You’re sitting on his countertop, giggling and licking frosting off your finger tips when your phone starts ringing. You grab a tea towel and wipe off your hands to answer the phone.

“Hello” you answer, still smiling and stifling a laugh. Paz contains his own laugher so you can hear whoever in on the other end of the line, and bends down to check on the next batch of cupcakes baking in the oven.

“Wh-what?” Your voice is horrified. Paz looks up at you still sitting on the counter. Your eyes have gone wide, and he can visibly see your body language change.

He stands up quickly and wipes off his hands too, giving you a questioning look.

“We’ll be right there” you say in grave tone “thank you”

Your hand drops down into your lap.

He stands before you, trying to get your eyes to focus. He says your name once, twice… he shakes your hand a little

“The fire department” you say “my store front…. burned down”

Something Sweet Tag List: @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet @blackmarketmummy