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carnalcrows · 6 days ago

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STUDY ME

pairing: perfect student! male OC x male reader [faceclaim]

synopsis: No one’s ever ranked higher than Haruki Mikage—until you do. You’re new, unsettlingly smart, and partnered with him for a major project. Haruki’s trying to stay composed, but your odd habits, offhanded comments, and freakish talent in the kitchen are messing with his head. He should’ve ignored you. He doesn’t.

content warnings : 18+, academic rivals to something else, reader is creepy-smart and says weird shit unprovoked, golden boy Haruki smokes under pressure, slow burn with freaky tension, blowjob at the end of ch1 (reader giving), reader’s thoughts are not normal, shared trauma over academic excellence, high-school setting, light humiliation kink energy, some bullying, borderline-obsessive chemistry, they’re both unwell but in different fonts. also: the project does get submitted on time. barely.

word count: 3.4k

The paper wasn’t even all the way up on the board before someone in the hallway let out a low whistle.

“Yo, he’s not first anymore.”

The teacher pressed the last corner of the sheet flat against the corkboard with her palm, used a pin to anchor it in place. She stepped back. The crowd surged forward.

Haruki Mikage didn’t move from his desk.

He didn’t have to. He already knew what it said.

He’d been top-ranked every semester since middle school—longer, if you counted the city-wide assessments and mock entrance exams his mother used to post on the fridge like they were participation ribbons. Everyone knew his name. They whispered it before exams, hated him for it after. Professors adored him. Classmates tolerated him. His grades were a forgone conclusion.

But still, there was that whistle.

That murmur again.

The skin between his shoulder blades prickled with something unfamiliar.

He’s not first anymore.

He set his pen down.

Someone pressed a palm to the open door. “Mikage.”

Haruki looked up.

It was Kinoshita from 2-A. Always too loud, always too nosey.

“There’s a new name up there,” Kinoshita said, eyes wide, half in disbelief and half in that messy kind of glee people reserved for perfect students slipping. “You’re second.”

Haruki blinked once.

Kinoshita grinned. “They only wrote the family name. No one knows who it is yet.”

Haruki didn’t answer. He just turned back to his notebook and wrote the date in the top right corner. Kinoshita lingered in the doorway a second longer, waiting for something. A reaction. A twitch. Even a shrug.

He got nothing.

Haruki didn’t even look bothered.

But the tip of his pen was pressed too hard into the paper. Ink pooling.

∘₊✧

He didn’t go look at the list.

Not during lunch, not after school. Everyone else swarmed the board. The hall smelled like shoe rubber and shampoo and stress. A few people snapped photos. One girl squealed. Someone muttered your last name and said, “It has to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t.

Your name was written in blocky black print above Haruki’s, the gap between your scores barely two digits wide—but it was enough. It was real.

You weren’t in his class last year. No one knew who you were. You didn’t even have a photo in the club yearbook. No whispers, no rumors, no posts online. Just a name no one recognized and a score too high to ignore.

That should’ve been the end of it.

One test. One fluke.

People were curious, but curiosity burned out fast here. Unless you were someone interesting, someone visible, someone like Haruki—nobody lasted more than a few weeks before fading back into academic noise.

Except you didn’t fade. You didn’t do anything. You just existed in the background.

Quiet. Distant. Present. Like static. Like a blank space on a page that never stopped drawing the eye.

He should’ve forgotten it.

But your name kept coming up—softly, between other people’s conversations. No one knew where you were from. Or why your name was never on any club roster. Or what kind of person beat Haruki Mikage and then refused to show their face.

Someone in class said you were weird. That you mumbled to yourself. That you drew creepy shit in the corners of your worksheet margins and then never turned them in.

Another said you laughed in the middle of a chemistry lecture, and no one knew why.

Someone else said they saw you eating cold rice balls under the gym stairs, headphones on, eyes closed, mouthing the words to something that didn’t exist.

None of that made sense.

None of it matched the clean, precise writing next to the top score on the midterm report.

But Haruki remembered it anyway.

∘₊✧

The first time he saw you was two weeks later.

There was no grand entrance. You just walked in a little after the second bell, half-zipped jacket, hair a mess, notebooks clutched to your chest like a bribe.

Haruki was already seated. Already organised. Already done with the warm-up quiz.

You didn’t look at him.

You walked past him, past everyone, and sat in the back corner of the room by the window. The only desk that hadn’t been claimed.

You slumped down. Dropped your bag. Took out a pencil that had bite marks in it and started copying notes from the board with a half-lidded stare.

Haruki stared. He couldn’t help it.

There were no rumours about how you looked—no pictures online, no Instagram stories. But this wasn’t what he expected.

You weren’t particularly neat. Or polished. Your uniform didn’t fit right, like it had been ironed two days ago and then slept in. Your fingers were ink-stained. Your collar slightly crooked.

You were pretty. But in a way that felt… accidental. Or wrong. Like a painting flipped upside down.

There was something strange about your face. Or maybe your mouth. It looked like it wanted to smile, but didn’t know how.

You looked up once during the lecture. Your eyes met his.

Then you winked.

Haruki turned back to his textbook immediately, his throat dry.

He didn’t look at you again for the rest of the period.

But he felt you looking.

∘₊✧

The class project was announced the next week.

“Pairs of two,” the teacher said, holding up a glass bowl with folded slips inside. “We’re going to assign them randomly. You’ll have three weeks to put your presentations together. Graded on both content and performance.”

She walked between rows with the bowl.

Haruki reached in, pulled a number: 9.

He waited patiently while the others filed through their slips. Then your name was called.

You pulled yours out. Paused. Tapped it twice against your palm.

You looked right at him when you said, “Nine.”

Haruki’s fingers twitched around his pen.

∘₊✧

He didn’t say anything until after class.

You were still packing up, slow and disorganised. You dropped your folder and didn’t bother to pick up half the papers that slid out. A few had doodles in the margins. They looked like vines. Or veins.

“Haruki Mikage,” he said.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

He stared. Then, “That’s my name.”

You tilted your head.

“I know,” you said. “You're the guy with the stupidly perfect eyebrows.”

He stared harder.

You reached for your bag, smiling faintly. “Are we gonna start working on this project, or are you gonna keep staring at me like I just spit in your bento?”

Haruki didn’t respond.

You laughed softly—barely audible. Like you hadn’t meant to do it.

Then you leaned forward and whispered, “You always look like you’re trying not to judge me. It’s okay. You can. It makes your mouth look sharper.”

His stomach twisted. He stepped back.

You turned and walked off like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just said the first thing that’s ever made him lose his breath.

∘₊✧

The two of you met for the first study session in the back corner of the library, because, of course, you suggested it, and of course, Haruki said yes, even though it went against his better judgment, instincts, and every fibre of his tightly-wound existence.

“This is where the ghosts live,” you said, dropping your bag to the floor and immediately sitting cross-legged on the chair. “They’re chill, though. As long as you don’t read anything out loud in Latin.”

Haruki blinked at you over the top of his textbook. “I don’t read Latin,” he said flatly.

You grinned. “That’s good. You’ve got exorcism hands, not summoning hands.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s a compliment.” It didn’t sound like one. But also—it kind of did?

You kicked your leg a little, humming under your breath. Then you reached over and grabbed his pen. Didn’t even ask. Just took it. Twirled it between your fingers like a wand and said, “Alright, Harvard. Let’s get this nerd orgy started.”

“…Excuse me?”

You looked at him innocently. “You’re telling me you don’t think studying is a group kink?”

Haruki did not dignify that with a response.

You leaned back in your seat and tilted your head, staring at him like you were taking inventory of something beneath his skin. Then:

“Have you always been like this?”

“…Like what?”

“Like a boy who was genetically engineered to be the president of every club. Like a human version of whatever’s in those vitamin gummies for your brain.”

Haruki frowned, flipping to the next page of the syllabus. “And you’ve always been like this?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied, deadpan. “I tried being normal once. Got a nosebleed.”

He didn’t believe a single word out of your mouth.

He also couldn’t stop looking at you.

Not in the overt, obvious way. Just… his eyes kept landing on the curve of your neck when you tilted your head back to think. Or the way your lips moved when you mouthed words to yourself under your breath. You chewed your pen sometimes, distractedly.

You had a pretty mouth. Haruki wondered what it would feel like around his fingers.

You tapped your fingers against your leg in a rhythm he couldn’t decipher. You made references he didn’t understand.

“Did you know Freud had a raging thing for eels?”

“…What?”

“He dissected like so many of them. Never found the testes. Drove him insane. I feel like you’re my eel.”

Haruki slowly set his pen down.

“I’m… what.”

“I don’t get you,” you said, voice lighter. Not teasing now. Just honest. “You’re like this shiny, polished, student council-approved perfection android. But then you make these tiny expressions when no one’s looking. Like you’re pissed. Or bored. Or like you wanna scream into a pillow for eight hours.”

He stared. Speechless.

You tilted your head again. “Have you ever screamed into a pillow?”

“No,” he said slowly, carefully. “Have you?”

You smiled. “Only when someone's on top of me.”

Haruki’s brain short-circuited for a second.

You opened your notebook like you hadn’t just dropped a sentence that would require him to pray afterwards. “Okay, let’s start with the thesis breakdown. We can decide if you wanna present or I wanna present, but either way, I get to say the weird part.”

“There’s… a weird part?”

“There’s always a weird part,” you said, eyes sparkling. “It’s the whole point of writing anything. Gotta add the bite.”

He didn’t know what you meant, but his pulse ticked up anyway.

You worked surprisingly well together.

You were smart. Not just academically, but weird smart. You pulled random quotes from obscure films, recalled footnotes Haruki had skimmed past, and made connections he hadn’t even considered. And the worst part was—your instincts were always right.

You were completely unserious about your own reputation, but deadly serious about the work. Which meant that Haruki—perfectionist, ruthless, prideful Haruki—couldn’t even hate you for beating him.

All he could do was sit across from you while you explained why you thought the author used soil erosion as a metaphor for emotional decay and pretend his leg wasn’t bouncing under the table.

When the session ended, you leaned over his side of the desk to grab your drink—and stayed there.

You were too close.

Too casual.

Your hair was a little messy. Your breath smelled like melon soda and mints. And when you pulled away, you laughed like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“I’ll text you,” you said, swinging your bag over one shoulder. “Unless you’d prefer I send smoke signals from the roof.”

“I don’t have your number.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Right.”

You held your hand out. Palm up. Waiting.

Haruki hesitated. Then handed over his phone.

You typed something fast, then handed it back.

The name you saved in his contacts wasn’t your name.

It just said: [threat level: weirdly hot]

He didn’t correct it.

∘₊✧

Haruki stepped out onto the rooftop with his blazer slung over his shoulder, tie loosened just enough not to look sloppy. He didn’t really care if people saw the cigarette between his fingers — nobody ever said anything. Not to him. It was the kind of privilege that came with being him.

Top grades. National mock test finalist. MVP of the volleyball team. Editor of the student journal. The golden boy. Your mother’s favorite. Your teacher’s pride. The one who always knew the answer but never rubbed it in.

And here he was, burning through his second cigarette of the afternoon, hoping it would quiet the spinning in his head.

He hated that it didn’t.

The shouting started before he even made it down the last step.

“Why don’t you just eat somewhere else?” someone hissed.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with this freak show today—seriously, you always pick the corner seat like it’s your kingdom or something.”

Haruki’s foot hit the bottom stair.

He knew that voice. Loud. Entitled. A second-year student from the basketball team who walked around like he owned the school just because he had abs and rich parents. The group around him laughed, but it sounded more like barking.

You were sitting alone, lunch in your lap, face unreadable. Picking at your rice like you couldn’t hear them.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. But your hands had gone still.

Haruki’s voice cut in before he could think about it.

“You talk a lot for someone that far below average,” he said flatly.

Silence.

The air shifted.

The guy whipped around, only to pale when he saw Haruki standing there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Haruki didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“Keep walking,” he added.

The group scattered. No one apologised. No one even made eye contact. They just fled, like hyenas realising the lion hadn’t left after all.

You glanced up at him with a half-smile. “Wow. My hero.”

“You shouldn’t let them get to you.”

“I don’t.” You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth. “I just added them to the list.”

“…What list.”

You didn’t answer. You just chewed and smiled.

∘₊✧

Later that week.

You opened the door in a loose black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair wet from a shower and sticking to your forehead in damp, clinging strands. You looked cosy in a way that made Haruki’s lungs feel too tight.

“You made it,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Wanna see something cool?”

Haruki followed you in, expecting weird posters, weird books, and maybe an Ouija board or something.

What he didn’t expect was—

The kitchen.

Clean. Lived-in. There was a wooden cutting board already dusted with flour. Soy sauce, mirin, and sesame oil lined up neatly on the counter. A cast iron pot simmering quietly on the stove, steam curling like the first exhale of a ghost.

You tied an apron around your waist and turned slightly. “Sit.”

He did.

The scent was unreal.

Rich and savoury. Ginger and garlic blooming in oil, followed by a splash of sake and the quiet crackle of meat hitting the pan. Chicken thighs, if he wasn’t mistaken—bone-in, skin crisping in real time as you basted it with soy and sugar.

The sauce thickened into a lacquered glaze, caramel-dark and glistening. You flipped the pieces with casual precision, face calm in a way he’d never seen in class. Focused. Almost elegant.

You weren’t speaking. Just humming. A low, tuneless little rhythm under your breath.

He watched the way your fingers moved—quick and practised as you sliced scallions into fine curls, sprinkled furikake over the steaming rice. You moved like you lived in the kitchen, like it wasn’t a performance.

The food was simple, but the kind of simple that only comes from knowing what you're doing. Like you’d made this a hundred times for someone you cared about.

No one had ever cooked for Haruki before.

He didn’t realise how tightly he was gripping the edge of the chair until you set the plate in front of him and the smell hit him like a memory he didn’t have.

He blinked. “This is…”

“Chicken nanban,” you said. “I made the tartar sauce from scratch.”

Haruki picked up his chopsticks, swallowed something thick in his throat, and took a bite.

The chicken cracked at the surface, still hot enough to burn, still sweet from the soy and vinegar glaze. The homemade tartar had bits of pickles and onion, just sharp enough to cut through the richness. The rice underneath had soaked up some of the sauce, sticky and warm.

It was stupidly good.

He kept eating quietly. You sat down beside him with your own plate and started scrolling through your phone, legs tucked up under you.

“Why do you know how to cook like this?” he asked finally.

You shrugged. “I like taking care of things.”

“…People?”

“Depends,” you said, tone lazy. “You wanna be taken care of?”

He looked at you. You didn’t look up.

The silence between you stretched like sugar—warm, sticky, slow.

He put his chopsticks down.

You turned to him.

And smiled.

Haruki wasn’t sure what he expected your room to look like, but it wasn’t this.

Simple, mostly. Clean. A little lived-in. The walls were bare except for a stack of books pushed into a crooked shelf, a futon folded neatly in one corner, and a secondhand desk with a few pens left uncapped. A soft hum filled the silence — maybe a fan from the hall or the fridge ticking quietly through the wall.

You tossed your bag down and sat on the floor like you didn’t feel the shift in the air. Haruki did. His skin felt too tight. The space between your bodies suddenly felt loaded.

“So this is where you hide,” he said, trying to sound casual.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Then shrugged.

“I like quiet,” you murmured. “It’s hard to find in school.”

Haruki didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all.

You watched him for a long beat, then patted the space in front of you.

“C’mere.”

He hesitated. You raised a brow. And then he moved — sat down across from you with crossed legs and a heart that wouldn’t stop thudding.

You didn’t touch him at first. Just stared. Haruki stared back. He wasn’t used to that, either — being looked at like he was something to be read, not admired. It made him feel strange. Exposed.

“Haruki,” you said, voice softer now, almost uncertain. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

His mouth opened — then closed. He didn’t have an answer.

You leaned in, slow like a question. Gave him time to stop it.

He didn’t.

So you kissed him.

Just once, at first — a slow press, the kind that didn’t demand anything. Then again, this time deeper. Haruki inhaled sharply, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to put them. You pulled back only slightly.

“You can touch me.”

The words were soft. Not teasing. Just an offer.

Haruki’s fingers found your shoulders, then your jaw, then finally threaded into your hair like it made sense.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Until you shifted, pushed gently at his chest. He leaned back onto his elbows, lips parted, breath shaky. You sank to your knees in front of him, palms brushing the hem of his shirt.

He watched, stunned, as your hands moved with practised ease — unbuttoning, unzipping, until he was bare from the waist down. The air was cool against his erection. Your breath was warm.

“Wait—” he managed, voice a little broken. “Are you… sure?”

You looked up at him with the faintest smile.

“Very.”

And then you lowered your head.

The first touch of your mouth on his cock made his breath stutter. He’d never—no one had ever—

He clutched at the sheets beneath him, back arching slightly. You didn’t rush. Just took him in slow, deep, unhurried. Your hands on his thighs kept him steady, kept him grounded.

Haruki didn’t know where to look. Your lips, your eyelashes, the ceiling — nothing helped. His brain was static.

You hummed against him, the vibration sending a full-body shiver up his spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands fisting the blanket. “That—wait—don’t—”

But he didn’t want you to stop. Not really. And you knew that.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper, “It’s okay. You can let go.”

And when he did, it was quiet.

His jaw went slack. His head tipped back. Your name curled off his tongue like something reverent. He was shaking.

You swallowed, slow and clean, and wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

Then you looked up at him.

Smiled like it was just another Tuesday.

“You taste like stress and bad decisions.”

Haruki lay there, bare and ruined, heartbeat in his throat.

You stood, grabbed your water bottle, and stretched like a cat.

“Wanna stay for dinner?”

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1@timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

#spilled ink #warm up #writeblr #i have a good job please shut the fuck up before telling me to get a better job #girl i have vision and dental.#if u blame the victim that's wild. do u know about economic systems

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cutehoons02 · 6 months ago

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Forced roomates or forced to be lovers?

University series: Jungwon Jake Jay

*pairing: popular pervy gamer Heeseung x popular cheerleader

*trope: forced roomates/opposites attract

*synopsis: Heeseung, a slightly introverted nerd but popular in the world of video games and in his computer course, with a passion for video games, and Y/n, the most popular cheerleader on campus, they find themselves sharing the apartment due to a mistake in the allocation of rooms. They could not be more different: he loves to spend sleepless nights in front of the monitor with always in hand a bowl of ramen, immersed in role-playing games, while she lives between exhausting training cheerleaders, evenings at the various parties of the football team and stories on Instagram. Initially the two barely bear each other, but a series of funny and intimate events will lead them to discover that, perhaps, they complement each other.

*tags: A lot of humor, tension, fluff, spicy, pervy Heeseung, a little pervy reader, Unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) pet names (Barbie, Baby, Good girl), pet names (Nerd, Loser), jealousy, teasing, possession, references to video games, cowgirl, +16,sweet moments at the end.

8.4k words

It’s the first time i write explicit scenes so i hope you like (🎮)

Heeseung’s room at that precise moment was full of mathematical forms and calculation sheets and various drawings of characters he invented, you could hear only the noise of the joystick and the various clilc he made in the mouse, with his excellent score in all subjects in the computer course and being one of the best video game players in the state, Hee had the chance to register for an online tournament for only nerds and professional gamers lasting a few months and the first 3 who had unlocked the level "Queen" they would have received a reward from one of the largest video game production companies and only 3 people would have had the chance with funding from the university and this video game production company to create their own virtual game, but he would not have imagined that his life at that exact moment could change with the entry into play of a noisy Cheerleader, who spent hours in their shared bathroom to make masks or to prepare to go out and tease him from morning to night.

He heard loud punches at the door of his apartment and when he took off his headphones he thought that those punches meant only one thing, His friends Jake and Jay had finished football practice and had come to disturb him or eat a cup of ramen together but when he opened the door he choked on his own because he found himself in front of a girl in a mini denim skirt and tight t-shirt with I ♡ HOT BOYS, Blonde as a ray of sunshine with a bright smile and a scent that left a sweet trail every time she shook her long tail of hair and with a bag of lacquered leather that had to cost more than her computer and a pink suitcase. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was. Y/n, one of the strongest cheerleaders on campus and perhaps all other universities, a marketing student and undisputed queen of the campus. She organized the best parties and seemed to always have the answer ready for any situation.

"Hey, i know you’re a nerd and you don’t deal with girls but are you listening to me instead of looking at me like i’m an alien?" Heeseung fixed Y/n’s shirt and felt the cheeks slightly redden when he read the entire I ♡ HOT BOYS writing and looked at how well it wrapped the shirt slightly tight in the breast of the girl in front of him.

"You’re kidding me, right? What if you are one of those perverts who come to the instant only at the sight of a girl in a slightly tapered T-shirt and a skirt? Did you hear what I just said a few seconds ago?"

Finally Y/n heard the voice of Heeseung «I don’t even know what you’re talking about Barbie, i think you’ve got the wrong apartment» replied Hee with an indifferent tone, returning to his room to continue his game of League of Legends. His online teammates were already complaining about his afk.

“Barbie? Are you serious?" Y/n entered his apartment and like a puppy followed the nerd and went into his room and stared at him with a mixture of contempt and disbelief.

"The lease says this is also my apartment and you will be my roommate for next year, Lee Heeseung."

Heeseung froze when he heard that sentence. He paused the game, ignoring the barrage of insults he was receiving in the game’s chat, and turned to her. «Wait. What would your apartment be like? This is my room for...now a year and in the option, i always put that i did not want roommates and then the other room sometimes I need!»

"Well, now that room will be mine. My parents bought the whole student building and the only apartment where there was only one person was yours. Congratulations, nerd. You’ve got the roommate of your nightmares or maybe your most perverse dreams" You whispered these last words near his ear and then you went to get your pink suitcase and to disturb your roommate I played one of the songs that you were supposed to dance on the football field for the beginning of the new season and sang until your room was slightly "Decent" and clean to your standards.

It was two weeks since the beginning of the partnership and you couldn’t stand Heeseung, he was a serious pain in your neck, You didn’t understand how he had so many followers in his profile and so many girls who commented on his life or who added edit about him while playing. Some girls stopped you to ask if he was engaged or if you had taken part in watching him in one of the many tournaments he did. You really hated that nerd especially when you found empty bowls of ramen around the apartment, colored electric cables scattered around the sofa, and Joysticks of shapes and sizes of verse scattered as well in the laundry but the thing you hated most was that he played until late at night and started laughing with his virtual friends at those stupid games or tournaments you always heard about.

The hatred was mutual also on the part of Heeseung, the cheerleader with whom he shared the apartment had monopolized the bathroom they had in common hair dryers, plates with strange shapes, tricks that cost more than the food she ate, glitter, and also bought a kind of mini refrigerator to put his masks or creams for skin care. Heeseung didn’t understand how everyone was following him or how he had so many friends or guys to go out with but the thing that he couldn’t stand about you was being perfect with everyone from the professors, To your friends, family and how you thought you were always the center of attention.

That late afternoon you and Heeseung were both in the apartment, trying to study business but as always when there was Heeseung at home there was never silence. You snorted and went into Heeseung’s room and watched him sitting in the gamer’s station with his hair slightly ruffled around the professional headphones, he had a slight grin but the thing that struck you most were his hands.

God since when did that boy have such attractive hands? They were large, slightly veiny, and wore a silver and black ring that sometimes tortured them for anxiety or maybe to wait for the next level, you recovered from that state and went near the desk.

Heeseung had noticed you but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being in the center of attention and kept on wielding his joystick even though he was about to start a game. “Can you turn that down? I’m studying." Heeseung watched you speak, a slight puff came out of his lips as he took off his headphones and wore them around his neck. «What do you want, Barbie?»

"I said if you can please turn down that volume, I’m trying to study."

«And you can stop occupying the bathroom for three hours or sprinkling blue and gold glitter in the bathroom? The other day while I was training, i found a flurry of glitter in my gym shirt, and some thought i joined your flying spinner team!» He answered, not taking his eyes off the monitor while dodging a zombie.

Heeseung looked at you with those little deer eyes put his headphones back on and kept talking to his friends as if you’d never even entered his room until he saw you go under his table for a second and sit between his muscular legs, when you sat down you sunned yourself to look at him and observed the small ones that filled his face. Hee stood still for a moment, caught unawares, but he recovered immediately.

«What are you doing? Do you want to sabotage me? You can’t go to one of the many little friends» he asked with a somewhat grumpy tone. You wanted to take him by surprise and see how long it lasted not to give your attention

"I’m just checking your level of concentration. Don’t tell me I’m the first girl to sit over your legs or do this. You know, as an experienced cheerleader, I enjoy distracting nerds like you." Y/n moved slightly above Heeseung’s legs and watched him straighten his hair perhaps out of frustration or embarrassment.

Heeseung laughed slowly, trying not to show her that she was slightly in awe of the blonde sitting almost above her length.

«You know, I knew that I was a temptress and that I had no fear of anything Y/n but spoiler does not scare me either because I’m used to going into video games of wars, zombies, demons, etc» Y/n started laughing and looked at Heeseung

"How do you know those animated things are scary? Let me see I’m curious, nerd."

Heeseung pressed a button and an unsettling scene appeared on the screen: a dark corridor, distant moans, and a shadow creeping slowly into the bloodshot view with eyes out of its sockets. Y/n barely jerked, unintentionally clinging to Hee’s shirt.

"What the hell was that monster?" she exclaimed, opening her eyes wide as a zombie made a chilling sound and hurled itself toward the screen. Hee burst out laughing, holding the controller with ease. Oh, I thought cheerleaders were not afraid of anything. What happened to your courage?» Heeseung looked at you carefully and thought you were not as bad as his mind had painted you but he would never tell you

Y/n turned around, pretending to be upset. "I’m not afraid! It’s just... I didn’t expect it."

«Yes, Barbie. You were shaking like a cat in the rain.»

"I don’t tremble! and I’m not a coward, if I was afraid I would not be thrown by human beings for air as work," said Y/n, straining his shoulders in a theatrical move. " If you want, I’ll take the controller and I’ll kill that thing."

«Oh, yes? please, come in. Let’s see the cheerleader against the zombie. And it has nothing to do with people blowing you up Barbie, if you’re not used to a little horror you’ll always be afraid» You felt Heeseung whispering these things to you and where was the nerd from before who was in awe with you sitting between his legs?

Y/n took the controller with determined action and started playing. Hee looked at her with a restrained smile as she moved nervously through the virtual corridor. «Why are you moving like that? No need, your character does not follow you! If you’re doing it to get my attention all on yourself Barbie did it, so stop moving between my legs and rub against my length because you will never win the level» You hated how that nerd made you feel. The tension increased with each step and suddenly a zombie broke down a side door with a scream. Y/n shouted and almost threw the controller.

"YOU NERDS ARE CRAZY. THIS IS A GAME FOR PSYCHOPATHS!"

Heeseung laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. «You’re incredible! You screamed louder than the zombie! Oh my god, it would have been iconic if it had been live streaming» Y/n stood up how angry but at the same time scared, and ran into his room until he heard Heeseung yell «I have all the cards in hand too win this game between me and you, not play with fire that sooner or later you will burn. Sweet dreams, Barbie» hit your face with your hairy pillow and Lee Heeseung in all the languages of the world.

It was almost a week after that little clash with Heeseung and for two whole nights, you had not slept properly for your standard because you always had in mind those horrible images of zombies with eyes out of the orbites.

«You are a little tired and less energetic Y/n, is everything all right?» Chan asked one of your group’s dancers and one of the few athletes you trusted to get you thrown in the air

"Yes, it’s all right I’m just a little tired of the exams and the selections we would have in the middle of the year. I would like to try to run as captain for the new year and that’s why I’m creating a choreography to run" Chan arranged the sheet you had on your head and smiled at you

«Please do not ask too much of yourself Y/n, The genta thinks this sport is nonsense but I would not want to see you again bandaged and in the hospital while crying because you could not move your leg or because your mind had made you think that you were not perfect for this sport and skipped meals or hours of sleep»

"It won’t happen again Chan, now I go home and make a good hot ramen and a nice hot shower to get all this sweat away and sleep until tomorrow morning at 10" Chan smiled at you and brought the bag until you were under your apartment

«Take care of yourself Y/n, and if you do not ask your roommate to prepare a nice basin of hot water for your feet and make ramen, Every time I get videos of Heeseung on Twitch or Tik Tok always has a bowl of ramen" the smiles and when you came in you raised your eyes, God because everyone saw Heeseung as the perfect boy and not as a loser who spent hours and hours playing those stupid games.

When you entered the apartment scientists immediately it was cold enough for your taste and on the sofa there was Heeseung who was watching a TV series to your great surprise he wasn’t playing any of those games and this thing made you alarmed because he always spent the evening At least 3 hours to laugh with his friends. Perhaps he had understood that you needed a good evening without hearing him giggle or hear from his headphones moans of zombies just killed or guns.

"Why aren’t you playing? Don’t tell me that all your friends have you pulled little and you have no one here to shoot or play" Heeseung raised his eyes and continued to eat and pay attention to the TV series he had put on the TV.

"Hey nerd, you listening? why is it so cold in here I’m going to ask you again why you’re not in your room?" Heeseung suddenly stood up and stood in front of you, you hadn’t looked at how he was dressed and had two sweatshirts and some sweatpants that he never wore inside the apartment because it usually made more than 20 degrees but now it must have been just over 10 degrees.

«The heating system of the whole building is out of use for a couple of hours and before the day after tomorrow will not be adjusted Barbie, for that you see me dressed so stuffed. You’ll have to take a cold shower today or you could call some of your friends and get them to host you» You jumped onto the sofa and made yourself slightly tiny in Heeseung’s eyes

"today is a day to forget in the sense of the word, I did not pass an exam and at Cheerliding I made mistakes I do not know how many steps I would just like to take a nice hot shower, eat some good ramen and put myself to bed warm" Heeseung looked at you and you made him a little pity where the girl had gone always exuberant, cheerful and that played music to the ball and that danced for everything?

«Relax for the ramen I can think of it, I am a master in doing so and if you want I can heat water and put it in baccinelle. I know it won’t be as relaxing as taking a shower with a full hot water shower but at least you can wash yourself and get rid of the sweat from your training»

Heeseung a little amazed and speechless, I did so with my head and you watched Heeseung prepare the ramen for you and even put an egg to you to be seasoned more.

«Here is the ramen, I hope you like it you would have made it with more ingredients but it’s been 2 days that I did not go to the grocery. Now.. Yes, I’ll make you some hot water and bring it to the bathroom. Come and see me when you’re done and leave the dish that I washed» You were seriously surprised by this version of Heeseung, is it not that maybe he suffered from some kind of bipolar disorder? Or was this the real Heeseung that everyone loved?

When you finished eating you went to the bathroom and prepared 4 basins of boiling water in the sink you had also put on a plush over-stuffed sweatshirt and a small smile formed, what is happening to Heeseung because he was so good today with you?

The shower with the basins had not you relaxed at all but at least you were washed and no longer had that smell of sweat, when you left Heeseung was no longer on the sofa, you wanted to thank him for both food and hot water and then knocked on his door.

"Heeseung" From the inside, you heard the familiar sound of the keyboard and a few nervous clicks of the mouse. And you heard his answer distractedly because he was concentrating on some computer calculations

«Yes? What is it?»

You entered without waiting for an invitation and crossed your arms for the cold. God, why is it so cold in this house? You wanted to ask Heeseung to share the bed so you could at least stay close and get a little warm but we are always talking about Heeseung the guy who loved to tease you and make you go crazy. Heeseung looked up, noticing his oversized t-shirt and his sweatshirt on the girl in front of him, he would never admit it but you with his clothes made him feel things that he should not think about you, He always wanted to see you with his things and a side of possessiveness intruded into his body. The sight of you made him swallow noisily, but he strove to keep a neutral expression.

"I wanted to thank you for the food and the hot water... I thought maybe we could share the bed. Just to keep warm. Just for this evening, I called my parents and they told me that tomorrow morning the technician will come. In my room it freezes so I thought to ask you" You had a fake smile shy, you wanted to absolutely embarrass him as he did while playing together with those stupid horror games

Heeseung opened his eyes wide and his mouse slipped out of his hand. God wanted to put him in awe

«what?! I don’t trust you at all Y/n, I know that after making you scared with that game you want to crash me» You raised your eyes to the sky, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, man this guy had understood you immediately but you kept insisting

"Oh, relax. It’s not an indecent proposal. Except that I would never do anything with you, you’re not my type Heeseung. It’s pure survival. We’ll freeze both or keep company and sleep together and warm up a little"

Hee rubbed his neck, embarrassed. He has no idea how to respond. Share the bed with Y/n, the most popular girl she knows. He’s never even been this close to a cheerleader... and now he has to share a bed but the thing that pissed him off was that phrase that said he wasn’t his type at all. Who wanted Y/n in his life? a stupid boy who made him feel nothing or he who always teased her and had seen how she reacted when she sat between her legs that was a little embarrassed also.

Heeseung moved nervously to make room on the bed, trying not to think too much about it as she tucked herself under the duvet with disarmingly natural ease. Y/n sat down next to him and made his feet touch his legs against his

"You’re made of wood, you know? Don’t tell me it’s the first time you've slept or that you’re in bed with a girl, nerd" you joked with Hee to embarrass him a little

«Sorry, I don’t share my bed every day with some girl»

"Really? You wouldn’t know it, you can even admit that you’ve never slept with someone you know" he slowly grinds, moving closer.

Heeseung was definitely tired from the constant grip of the cheerleader so he took off his sweatshirt because he was definitely dying from the heat in that situation and he lay down in bed and spread his legs a little because he did not want to feel Y/n’s legs intertwined with his. Y/n had leaned with an arm and was absorbing it and without thinking embraced the piece of wood next to her and a scent of citrus and spices invaded his nose, Heeseung seriously had a slender body but at the same time toned and felt from the shirt that he had strong abs, not bad for a nerd!

«Y/n, what did you take me for? for your giant teddy bear that you have in your room?» You laughed because even if you could not stand it sometimes it was nice to be in his company.

"Mmm, no my teddy is definitely sweeter and nicer than you, nerd. I’m hugging you because I’m cold and your temperature is too hot to not have the heat on" Heeseung ran his hands through his hair and turned off the lights, for a couple of minutes he no longer heard Y/n speak, and thought she had fallen asleep but before talking about the devil they sprang horns, felt the cold fingers of Y/n go under the shirt and roll them up their bare abs, He felt little shivers all over his body and cursed the heating not working.

«Y/n, stop it I know what game you are playing with me, I will not fall into your trap» you started to laugh even if he had turned off the light could imagine that he had slightly red cheeks and definitely had that super cute grumpy. You also put your other hand on its narrow waist and tried to go a little lower but a strong hand stopped you and now you had your arm over your head and Heeseung slightly above you holding himself with one arm.

«I repeat it again Y/n, I have all the cards in hand to pottery beat, if you are in need of attention go to your friend's football players, or swimmers with whom you do evening but not with me because otherwise, I could ruin you in an instant» You snorted and shoved Heeseung into the other side of the bed and you sunned yourself with your shoulders turned to him. "Sooner or later you will lose Heeseung, and I know for certain that it will be me who will make you lose your head" A small smile formed on your lips before you fell asleep.

Heeseung woke up a little later that morning, you were out of bed, you had gone to study somewhere or to work out. When he went into the bathroom and looked back he started to ride but I swore in all the languages of the world because you had left him a red lipstick stain with your lips engraved on his cheek and the more he tried to send away that joke, the harder it was to remove.

That Saturday went all wrong, the university football team had lost badly and even the show you had prepared to make the majors identify you as suitable to take the place of captain was a mess. Some freshmen had it all wrong and you were seriously pissed off and wanted to just smash yourself in ice cream and finally spend hours under the jet of boiling water they had repaired.

When you came in, you slammed the door of the apartment, with a face tense from anger. You dropped your bag on the floor with a thud. It had been a nightmare day. During the show before the match, a couple of girls continued to make you miss all the shots, and the coach took it with you in front of everyone because if you wanted to become the captain you had to be perfect and able to support also freshman line.

You were about to head for your room when you heard laughter coming from the living room. Heeseung’s familiar voice is clearly distinguished, and also that of Sunghoon one of his closest friends who was skating, and there was also another athlete Jungwon but along with them, there was also a girl. Y/n stood on the threshold, crossing his arms.

On the two chairs, there were Hoon and Jungwon, instead Heeseung was sitting with legs apart, bent forward to look at the screen and see how he smiled or squinted at Heeseung. She was way too close. She had Sunghoon in the same room who was one of the most beautiful guys I’d ever seen, but no she was attached to Hee.

"Well, look at that, our gamer has found someone who gives him a go," you commented in a deliberately sharp tone.

All turned to her. Heeseung seemed surprised, but he recovered immediately and saw that it was past 10 in the evening so the game had ended a long time ago. «Hey, Barbie. Difficult day? don’t tell me that the football team lost» he asked, with a smirk, and raised your eyes to the sky.

"Oh, don’t worry about me. It seems like you’re having enough fun already."

The girl next to Hee laughed, and for some reason, that sound irritated you more than it should have. <<If you want I can leave my place Y/n>> says Jungwon with a genuine smile, man how much gold would have paid to have as a roommate a person like Jungwon always nice and sociable with everyone that loser from Heeseung?

"No, no, quiet Jungwon I’m going to take a nice hot shower and some healthy skincare for my skin. I already greeted you all because I don’t know when I’ll get out of that bathroom" You went to the bathroom and felt the look of Heeseung in your body covered only by a shabby skirt and a light sweatshirt but you scrolled away all the slacks with a nice warm bath.

After almost two hours you left the bathroom in your pajamas and at the door, Heeseung’s friends were getting ready to go home, you were preparing a calming herbal tea but you watched the first girl named Luna greet Heeseung with a hug and then with a shy kiss on the cheek. That scene made you even more angry against the world, from what point did you get annoyed by girls around that nerd?

"Really, Heeseung? Bring people here without telling me? And then that girl... who the hell was she? We agreed that when I had a show when I came home I wanted to be at peace"

Heeseung stood in the middle of the living room, an eyebrow raised but with a funny look

«Does it bother you that I had friends here? What should I say when you take your best friends to make your beautiful pajamas that scream or speak of everyone or is it only Luna who has bothered you because you have always made enough friends with all my friends?» You looked at the nerd in front of you and crossed your arms.

"Don’t be smart. I hate that you don’t even have the decency to tell me when you bring people. Aren’t we roommates?"

Hee barely smiled, a smile that seemed to know long.

«You and I are roommates, so why do you seem so... jealous and upset by the presence of Luna?» You looked at him furiously, approaching a few steps.

"Me? Jealous? Of you? Don’t make me laugh, you know you’re not my type."

«Then why are you so agitated?» he replied, standing up to approach you. Heeseung not only looked beautiful but also his height was perfect, you always liked tall guys and he with his 1.83 compared to your 1.65 was overtaking you. You felt the tension grow between you two. you approached again and pushed it slightly with a hand on your chest.

"Maybe because I can’t stand when you’re bragging about your "friends," I saw how comfortable you were and how you flirted with her. You pretend to be the "good guy" of the situation but we all know that underneath you love seeing girls lost for you"

Heeseung looked at you for a few seconds, then shook his head with an incredulous grin.

«You know what? You’re unbearable when you do that, what is it you want to always be the center of attention barbie? the world does not only revolve around you»

"Oh, stop it, you’re so annoying from the first day that I set foot in here with your little smirk cheeky" you answered with your face now a few inches from his.

Heeseung was definitely tired of your spoiled behavior and even as a child he did the last thing he expected to do but he wanted so much to silence you and put you in your place. You felt yourself by the wrists and Heeseung gently slammed you against the island of the small kitchen.

«Stop» he said in a rock and still voice. You looked at him wide-eyed, ready to reply, but the words stuck in your throat when he leaned over and kissed you. The kiss is initially decided, almost to silence you, but then it becomes sweeter as if he was also surprised by his own boldness. You were slightly still for a moment then you relaxed and carried your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you. You felt his big hands under your ass and in a few moments he made you lean on the kitchen island and began to kiss you again or not devour you «Fuck, the only way to make you shut up is this Barbie? , if I knew it before I would have made you quiet in other ways, Y/n» You absolutely wanted to reply but when it detached from your lips he plunged to give light kisses around the clavicle until reaching your neck, a little moan came out of your lips when it began to torture you a small section of your neck under the ear, you felt that it was licking and then biting. Your coach would kill you if she saw some suckers but at that moment you were too much at the mercy of Heeseung and what he made you try; "Hee, stop torturing me I can’t be seen with a" You did not stop talking that you sucked strongly another area of your neck and pulled as much as possible his hair.

What you were doing was absolutely nothing normal but you felt too excited to stand between him, you felt Hee come even closer to you and you perceived its hard length in the pants of the suit she wore, You tried to approach him and touch him but he took your arm and brought it back to the shed.

«I don’t give a fuck if your coach tomorrow sees you with some pacifiers and don’t try to touch me, I don’t let the bad girls put their hands on me, and this evening you were a bad girl rather you behaved like a child and spoiled» You felt the big hand of Heeseung to slightly bloom your pants and felt your panties slightly wet and Heeseung had an expression that you had never seen perhaps victory? His hands made little circles over your pajamas but never took them off because in his eyes you were definitely a bad girl that night without thinking touched your pussy and stimulated you until you felt that from there you would come like a loser with both pants and panties around, You leaned on him and when you felt that you were coming to the climax but he detached and looked at you with all red cheeks.

"It can’t be, you’re really an asshole Heeseung" Heeseung looked at you with a grin and whispered to you «We are already 2-0 for me Barbie, when will you start to understand that with me you’ll burn yourself?» You watched him drink a glass of water and then go to his room as if he had not almost made you come in your underwear and as if you did not exist.

It was a week after those kisses, either Y/n tried in any way to avoid Heeseung and the thing was mutual with him as well. His best friends Jay and Jake had invited him to the last half-season game and with him were Hoon, and Jungwon, But he did not realize that before the game there was the show of the Cheerleaders and in front of his eyes there was Y/ n who was warming with other dancers both male and female. He watched her carefully trying to do a handless somersault and after a few seconds Chan one of the best and most famous dancers on the entire campus took her by the hips and made her lightly jump off the ground and put it over his shoulder, He knew that Y/n was good because she spent hours and hours training but did not think that she had so much charisma and ease to make such a lot of acrobatic. Heeseung looked away from the beautiful cheerleader for a moment and saw Sunoo take it back and give him a hint with his thumb.

"Why are you filming Y/n?" Sunoo looked at the oldest boy in the group with a smile and continued recording

<<I’m making some content for her team’s tik tok and Instagram profile, she asked me the day before yesterday when I saw her in the library>> Heeseung looked at Y/n smiled at Chan, and hugged him slightly, Why did you ask Sunoo to be your little filmmaker and not him who lived on technology? And then why did he embrace Chan so often, relationships between athletes were forbidden but a sense of jealousy took hold in Heeseung, and watched from the edge Y/n field that he was fixing his makeup.

Y/n for her knew that Heeseung was watching her since she had left the locker room but she would not give him his attention for anything in the world because he was seriously an asshole.

<<Your favorite nerd can not take his eyes off you for 20 minutes and is throwing me some hateful looks as if he tried to kill me with an axe or a virtual gun>> You wake up to the joke of Chan and you squatted to pretend to lace your shoes and sunflowers Heeseung’s head and eyes were watching you and you saw him turn all red when you caught him looking at your ass even though it was barely covered by a short skirt the smiles and I made the mark of 2 with my hands because he was still ahead between you two but in added a 1 because even if he did not want to admit it would also sacrifice a game of those stupid tournaments to have you and to make you his, He winked and was petrified to watch you enter the locker room to give the charge to everyone and to start the show before the half-year game.

The game ended in a beautiful victory and you came home to take a quick shower, put on makeup, and dress up for the winter party. When you entered the house there was nobody and it seemed so boring and at the same calm, there were no screams of Heeseung, the laughter of his friends, There were no sounds of gunshots or moans of evil characters and this thing made you a little bit sorry you didn’t want to admit it but by now you were used to all that mess and see the apartment empty and without the blue lights of the computer or smart tv, you put a little sadness. When you left the bathroom you felt a delicious smell coming from the kitchen and at that moment you did not think that Heeseung could return so soon, You went to the kitchen, and Heeseung when he saw you dressed as you were, looked at you with a furious look but at the same time, he saw that it was hard to take your eyes off of how he wrapped your short skirt, a light crop top sweater and on your feet you had black loafers with ankle warmers.

«Where do you think you are going dressed like that? you studied all this morning and this afternoon you trained and not even two hours ago you blew up I don’t know how many times, It’s not better to ask for a break from your body and stay at home» watch Heeseung from the mirror you had at the entrance of the apartment with a grin and sprayed a little perfume and set up your cheerleader bow in your straight hair

"Wow, someone’s in a bad mood didn’t you like the show or the game? I’m going to a party. You know, those social things that normal people do for fun, to drink, to chat, or maybe to be in the company of a nice guy or girl!" You squinted at Heeseung and he had his arms crossed to his chest and wouldn’t stop staring at you «I know what Barbie parties are, just don’t understand why you have to dress like..» you approached him and looked at him with a smile, maybe for the first time in your life you had the knife’s handle on your side the nerd in front of you was seriously jealous.

"How what? A girl who knows she’s irresistible and wants to go out and have fun with her friends? How should I dress to go to a party, certainly not with a pair of sweatpants or a sweatshirt" Heeseung looked at you attentively and saw him blush as you pressed your breasts to her strong chest and flushed from that little touch with your body.

"Relax, nerd. I can handle the compliments myself. You don’t need to worry." You took your Chanel bag and went to the door and looked at Heeseung leaning against the wall with that adorable little grumpy and his deer eyes that didn’t leave a moment. " Don’t expect me awake. I might be late or not even come home."

Heeseung when he saw you leaving the house and leaving a sweet scent whispered «Oh, I will wait for you Barbie.»

When you came back to the apartment it was around one and a half at night, I took off my boots and sighing for fatigue went to your room but before entering I saw Heeseung sitting on the bed wiping his hair wet with a cloth, He had just come out of the shower because there was that citrus scent coming out of the bathroom and you raised a eyebrow curious to see him still awake, if you had made it clear to him that he could go to sleep.

"Why are you still awake? Didn’t I tell you not to wait for me? Don’t tell me you were worried about me and that you wanted to see me safely back home without anyone."

«I admit it I was just worried and wanted to see how you yourself said that you would come home with your legs»

"How sweet. I didn’t know you were so protective." You put your bag on the desk and sat down on the edge of the bed watching Heeseung while he rubbed his hair and stared at you with sneaky eyes Your legs were almost completely uncovered and how he showed you the curves especially your breasts that sweater shrunk

«It’s not protectiveness. It’s frustration. I can’t understand why you enjoy teasing everyone... including me. What do you want Y/n?» a small smile came out of your lips and to Heeseung’s surprise you put on horseshoes in his toned legs and carefully dried the hair half gone for how many times he had passed the cloth to dry them while waiting for you

"Am I the one who provokes? One week ago you almost made me come in my pants and then you left like a loser without completing the work." Heeseung tried to put his hands on your hips but you took his big hands and placed them over his chest, "Don’t dare touch me until I tell you, the last time I was acting jealous or maybe like a child but this night you were the loser of the situation that in order not to admit that you wanted me you left me to go to a mega boring party"

You helped Heeseung to take off her shirt and a little whistle came out of your lips "How can you have such a physique and not show it off?" You began to slowly rock over its width felt it under you become harder and harder and you started kissing its neck until you reached below the navel. Heeseung had dreamed of this moment from the first time he saw you enter his apartment, he would never admit it but masturbated even thinking of you and was seriously afraid to come if you would continue to swing with that miniskirt that now let you all the thighs uncovered and saw your black panties in lace.

«I need to hear you somehow or show you that I’m not a loser as you think Y/n, please let me make you feel good and let me finish what I had started; I hate to pause the gaming games the same thing goes for you Barbie» Heeseung with reddish cheeks and eyes half-shiny desire and gently laid you down in his place and bent down to make you feel good, you made the sign to take off your skirt but he did no head and a grin formed in his face «I want to make you come with this skirt of a bad girl and then you will take my dick» you were seriously shocked by Heeseung’s words that you wanted to tease him again but your voice stopped when you felt the fingers slipping into your still-dressed slot and Heeseung’s slightly wet hair buried under your skirt, You jumped at him as you felt his middle finger and ring slide down your pussy while with the other hand, he suddenly took off your panties in a provocative way. He looked at your panties for a moment and then dived back under your skirt and you felt her finger on your palm clit with her thumb. You crave the feeling, of holding tight to his arms, the longer he pleased your clitoris, the sooner you would lose control of yourself and that was what Heeseung wanted, to see you lost to him. And in the end, you were just giving in to what your body wanted: rubbing against that annoying nerd’s hand, you felt his fingers get inside of you for good, and little moans came out of your mouth.

«Fuck love to hear your moans, and groans for me Y/n, make everyone feel who is fucking you and who is ruining only with two fingers inside of you, I can not wait to see you ride my dick and be able to have you finally mine»

You pulled Hee’s hair and small moans came out of your mouth as fast as her fingers went inside you at that moment.

"Hee, I need" fuck was nice to be filled by his long fingers. You felt his fingers curl inside, and you closed your mouth with your hand, afraid to wake up anyone who was sleeping. Annoyed, Heeseung pulled his hand away from you and admired you as you had your mouth open, hair in his bed, and were standing up for him and not one of those stupid athletes who came after you.

«Come for me baby, don’t be shy» felt that you taunted your clitoris again and came moaning again the name of Heeseung, The nerd under your skirt slowly tasted the mess that had caused you and tasted your shiny white cum that polished your pussy. When he got up he looked at you and leaned to give you a little kiss on the forehead «Good girl», after a while you got your arms around Heeseung’s neck and kissed him with a hunger for him and pushed him back into bed and rode over him to his cock.

"I need you Heeseung" The guy in front of you interrupted the kisses you were giving and looked at you with a shy and sincere smile, «Fuck tell me that I’m not dreaming Y/n, it’s months that I want you close around me, for me this is not a game Y/n» You smiled at Heeseung and took off the light sweater you had and the boy in front of you cheeks turned red and took off your breast-holder with nonchalance and immediately took a bud from your breast and with the other hand held you and tickled the other breast.

"Not for me either Hee this is a game, I want it" A little moan came out of you when he sucked slightly your nipple and a little spit went down your left breast repeated this thing also with the other. You really needed him so you lowered his pants and at the same time boxer shorts and saw his cock semi-erect, caressed him slowly but after a while you started to pump him slightly, It was beautiful to see him swearing under the sensation of your warm hand, slowly pumping it and observing the way his tip leaked copiously liquid.

«I thought of you I don’t know how many times in these months in this exact position...» mumbles, slightly shivering, «please Y/n, I need you» A little laugh came out from your lips, you had never seen Heeseung in this state and it was only thanks to you.

"You know we’re tied right now Heeseung, you seem so desperate for me right now. If you want fuck me”. he sent you a charming smile before pulling down your hips with that slutty skirt still on you; he wheezes sweetly at the feeling of your pussy flying around her tip, already able to feel your exhaling excitement before you finally slowly sink over him.

"Fuck, oh shit Hee" You were seriously ecstatic by the length of Heeseung inside you, and slowly you moved to let it in and out so that your bodies lined up and went at a rhythm.

«God you are so tight» You felt his big hands under your ass and brought you even closer to him and you put your hands over his back to ride it harder. «Who is fucking you so well, Barbie?» You felt again his thumb rub your wet pussy as you took his cock up on the ground and hit exactly your G-spot to make you moan his name. " You, Hee, only you Heeseung"

Heeseung began to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, climbing up, climbing up until finally reaching your ear, leaving a kiss behind it before whispering: «You are mine and from this moment I will not share you with anyone»

By the time he pushed back in you could already feel the tears ticking your eyes: you’re loud and cheeky in your sounds as he starts hammering you again because he knows it’s coming soon and he wanted to feel your body again, you felt your back curl from the way Hee’s hand started to rub your clitoris again, you could only groan softly for feeling, Allowing him to play with you as if you were his own game or even worse his favorite toy.

"Hee, I’m close."

«Come for me Barbie, I want to feel and see you with my sperm in all your beautiful pussy that right now is taking my cock»

Finally allows herself to come inside you, you can hear Hee sibilate softly for the sensation, triggering her orgasm while you whimper for all the sensations you had experienced thanks to that loser of your roommate. You’re hot and full to the point that it’s already started to leak out, and Heeseung swears he’s never seen a better show, and you’re burying your head in the hollow of your neck.

You felt Hee give you a little kiss on the head and then on the forehead and put you lying in her bed and after a few seconds of silence she went to get you some warm clothes and cleaned you from her cum and put you her clean boxers and her crumpled nerd t-shirt and brought you to my bride in your bed, Your cheeks were seriously all red and maybe you were also agitated because now things would go with him?

When he put you under the covers you saw him lay an arm around your waist and look at you smiling softly move a rebellious tuft from your face around your ear give you a light kiss on the cheek and lay down with his head leaning close to your neck and crossed your legs. You were seriously surprised by his attitude but maybe underneath he also felt emotions like a classic twenty-year-old boy and you embraced him a little timidly because you had never seen this act of Heeseung.

«We are 3-2» You started again with your joke but in your head, you were 2-2.

"What did I do this time to get you back in the game? It seems we are still 2-2" You felt his nose close to your neck and started laughing, he did not want to admit but for him that three were you. He would be able to skip a session of video game tournaments to make you happy and maybe he was falling in love with you but he would never admit it if you didn’t do it first, because the weak point of the situation was him not you.

Comments are appreciated:)🎮

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crushpunky · 7 months ago

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drew and actress!reader test how well they know each other

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based off the gq couples interviews. this one was a bit more difficult to write since there wasn't anything to go off of, but hopefully y'all enjoy it :)

Y/n sat in her chair, adjusting her hair to fall smoothly around her face with a calming, deep breath. Drew took his seat opposite her, smiling widely as a production assistant handed each of them a stack of cards. He wore an oversized knitted cardigan over a crisp white t-shirt paired with a pair of distressed jeans, his sharp features and messily styled hair tying the look together in a way that made y/n swoon.

“You ready?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. With both of them preparing for the release of the newest season of Outer Banks as well as their respective upcoming projects, their agents suggested they do an interview together. Overjoyed at the offer, the two of them emphatically agreed to sit down with GQ for their Couples Quiz. It wasn’t the first time they had done interviews together, usually joined by the rest of the OBX cast, but this was the first time it had only been the two of them explicitly opening up and talking about their relationship.

“Of course,” Y/n returned his grin, crossing her legs as she glanced over towards the cameras. Since they went public with their relationship, they had never been especially secretive about it, talking about each other easily in passing as their partner or significant other. However, it was a bit nerve racking to be so open and talk so openly about the intricacies of their relationship.

“Alright, y/n you are clear to begin with the introduction…” one of the camera operators focused the lens on y/n, “now.”

“Hello, I am y/n y/ln and this is…” y/n gestured over to Drew, whose gaze still remained on her before he tore his eyes away and looked into the camera lens.

“Drew Starkey.” Drew said quickly, causing y/n to laugh and a smirk to creep upon Drew’s lips.

“And today we will be taking GQ’s Couples Quiz.” Y/n finished before turning to Drew once more. With a dramatic flare, Drew shuffled his cards and cleared his throat.

“First up, how many siblings do I have?” Drew said with a quirk of his brow.

“Oh that one’s easy,” y/n said, wiping a faux bead of sweat off her forehead, “you are the oldest of four. You have two sisters and a brother.”

“That is true, that is true.” Drew grinned before tossing the card behind his chair.

“Alright, my turn,” y/n straightened in her chair, “what was my first job?”

“Why a barista of course,” Drew said, “and an excellent one at that. This girl makes a fucking killer iced latte—”

“Joseph!” Y/n reddened at his swearing, Drew immediately clamping a hand over his mouth as the two of them laughed.

“Sorry GQ,” Drew chuckled, “but it’s true. She makes a very good iced latte.”

“But yes, you are correct. My first job was in a coffee shop.” Y/n said, resting the cards back in her lap.

“Next,” Drew began, “what was our first date? Ooh that’s kind of a hard one.”

Y/n nodded to herself, thinking back towards the beginning of their relationship. It was by no means a traditional beginning, the two of them already living with each other between seasons of OBX when COVID hit. It had been only a few months into quarantine when they could no longer deny the feelings they had for each other, eventually leading them to finally start dating after what felt like lifetimes of pining over each other.

“Yeah, it is,” y/n chewed on her bottom lip in thought, “I mean we were already living with each other when we started dating, so I think we might’ve skipped that step.”

Drew chuckled, “yeah I think you’re right. But I think we’ve made up for our lost dates, you think?”

“Oh yeah, five years of living with this one I think we’ve made up for it.” Y/n smiled, thinking back to all the nights they’d spent together, whether sitting on the couch watching a movie, out at a fancy restaurant, or tangled in the sheets in their shared home. Continuing on, y/n looked at the next card.

“Drew if you don’t get this one we might have a problem,” y/n said, to which Drew’s eyes widened as he leaned in intently.

“What is my favorite Taylor Swift song?” Y/n peered over the card, a wide grin creeping on her cheeks as she watched Drew let out an exhale of relief.

“I definitely know this one: Getaway Car,” Drew said with a shrug. Y/n turned to the camera, flashing a smile and tossing the note card back. Drew did a fist pump before relaxing back into his seat.

“He knows me so well,” Y/n said. “What’s your favorite Taylor song, Drewseph?”

“Ooh, that’s a good question…” Drew rubbed his fingers along his jaw in contemplation. “I think I’m going to say Daylight because that was what we played at our wedding.”

Y/n rolled her eyes in faux annoyance at Drew’s overly sentimental but oh-so-very-Drew answer before letting out a giggle. Drew playfully rolled his eyes in return, a wide smile still plastered across his face.

“Alright, alright, who is my favorite character in Outer Banks?” Drew asked, tapping the queue cards against his chin as he waited for y/n to respond.

“I know they probably wanted this to be some cute answer and say me, but it’s really not.” Y/n said, causing the crew behind the cameras to giggle.

“Yeaaahhh it’s not.” Drew shook his head with a laugh only causing the crew’s giggles to intensify.

“It’s Barry, Nick Cirillo. The true love of his life.” Y/n said, using her finger to mime a tear falling down her cheek with an exaggerated frown.

“No, don’t say that.” Drew tossed the card at her with a shake of his head. “Yes, Barry is my favorite character, but the love of my life is most definitely sitting right here in front of you folks.”

“Aww, Starkey you sap.” Y/n said, blowing Drew a quick kiss before grabbing another question card.

“Alright, back to the questions,” y/n began. “When did we first meet?”

Drew’s face immediately lit up at the memory, “oh I remember it very clearly.”

“Do you now?” Y/n chuckled, cocking her head as she listened to Drew’s words.

“Yes, it was right after I had gotten a call back for Outer Banks,” Drew said. “They invited me in for a chemistry read and I just remember coming in and seeing this… just, absolutely beautiful girl sitting with the directors and my stomach dropped. Then she came over to me and introduced herself and I thought I was going to pass out. I was so nervous, but I tried my best to play it cool and… yeah. Here we are.”

“There is no way that is true!” Y/n teased, laughing at Drew’s exaggerated gestures as he told his story. She certainly remembered the day fondly, but she didn’t detect any of Drew’s nervousness… Maybe because she herself was so overcome with nerves the second she saw him walk through the door it didn’t even occur to her that someone who looked like that could possibly feel the same way about her.

“It is!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender. “I thought I was totally going to bomb the audition but once the camera started rolling everything just clicked… and I’ve been totally obsessed ever since.”

Y/n felt her cheeks warm up, moving to cover her face with one of the question cards.

“Ok, here is the final question, baby,” Drew continued, a mischievous grin on his lips as he watched y/n’s flustered expression.

“Oh no!” Y/n said, smoothing her hair down and taking a deep breath to calm the flutters in her stomach. Despite being together for nearly five years, and even getting married, Drew still managed to always make her weak in the knees and remind her just why she loved him so much.

“Where is my favorite place on Earth?” Drew asked.

“Oh, I think I know this one,” y/n said with a smile. “Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Yep. Best place, best people… it’s truly our home.” Drew grinned, putting the card down and resting his chin in his hand as he stared at y/n lovingly. Catching his gaze, y/n stood up before walking over to him, the two of them embracing each other as the cameras continued to roll. Once they pulled apart, Drew rose to his feet, the two of them turning towards the camera.

“Thank you, GQ!” Y/n waved, Drew placing a kiss to the top of her head before waving along, the two of them smiling ear to ear and practically radiating with a love that continued to grow stronger every day.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x actress!reader #actress!reader

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matt-murdockk · 17 days ago

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Peek-a-boo!

dad!spencer x mom!reader | domestic fluff, a whole lotta love <3 | 600 words

a/n: consider this a reparation of sorts for Atonement

summary: a lazy sunday at the Reid household is filled with laughter when you discover just how much your daughter loves to play peek-a-boo

It's the sun that wakes you. Soft and golden, slanting through the curtains, filling your bedroom with a warmth reminiscent of a hug from someone who loves. Someone you love. Instinctively, your hands reach out to the other side of the bed, only to find a Spencer-shaped emptiness next to you. The sheets are still rumpled, still smelling faintly of him.

You hear sounds of muffled laughter from the next room. Two voices, both equally excited. Of course, he couldn't wait. You slip out of bed, careful not to creak the floorboards, and follow the sound. The nursery door is open just a crack, morning light spilling into the hallway, and you pause there.

He’s on the floor, knees bent, curls a soft mess, t-shirt wrinkled from sleep. Your daughter is in front of him, still in her little onesie, cheeks flushed with joy as Spencer covers his face with both hands and—

“Where’d Daddy go?” he says, peeking between his fingers.

She squeals and suddenly looks serious, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing, like she had just witnessed someone disappear into thin air, and when he drops his hands—

“Boo!”

More laughter. From her. From him.

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, heart so full it aches. You don’t make a sound. You just watch them. Your entire world is in front of you. His in his arms, laughing with him. You watch as their eyes crinkle the same way and notice how much they look alike.

He scoops her up with a soft grunt, cradling her against his chest like she’s made of glass and starlight. She kicks her feet in excitement, still giggling, grabbing at the collar of his shirt with her tiny fists.

“Oh, you’re so strong,” he whispers dramatically, making her giggle louder. She grabs his nose with one of her hands and pulls his face down to look into his eyes. She babbles something utterly incomprehensible— a string of sounds with all the conviction of a very important sentence.

Spencer nods solemnly. “You know what? I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you make an excellent point.”

She gasps like she can’t believe she’s being taken seriously, then locks eyes with him in an intense, unblinking stare. He blinks back, just as serious.

“What are you doing? Are you trying to intimidate me?” He leans in closer. “Is this a power play?”

Her tiny brow furrows. Still staring.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “You’re trying to assert dominance.” He points at her like he’s cracked the case. “That’s exactly what this is. This is a tactical manoeuvre.”

She blinks.

“You have my respect,” he nods gravely. “But just so you know, two can play at that game.”

She responds by grabbing his nose again.

He yelps dramatically. “Okay, okay, you win!”

From the doorway, your laugh finally gives you away. He gasps dramatically, pointing to you. "Look who's here! Who is that?"

The moment she notices you, she breaks into a fit of giggles and rapidly crawls to you, wanting to be lifted up into your arms. You oblige, how could you not? You press a kiss to her cheeks with a hum as she uses both her tiny hands to clumsily try and hold your entire face.

"Morning, sunshine."

She babbles something in reply, all vowels and delight, and Spencer tilts his head.

“No good morning kiss for me?”

You grin, leaning over with your daughter still balanced on your hip. “Of course you get one,” you say. “Come here.”

And you kiss him, gentle and familiar. Warm like Sunday mornings.

a/n: propaganda i am falling for— girldad spencer <3

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader fluff #maya writes #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid drabble #girldad!spencer

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miedei · 1 month ago

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roommate!spencer gets home late and you know each other so so so well <3

drabbles mlist | roommate!spence fic

roommate!au drabble inspired by an alisha (@siriuslylantsov) voice message and our shared roommate au obsession

When Spencer walks in, the apartment is quiet, but not silent. It’s not the mute nature of an empty home, but instead there’s a lived-in undertone to it.

The faint sound of your white noise machine reaches him from your room, the car noises that float in through the kitchen window you always forget to close, and, if he strains his ears, he can hear the repetitive, rocking sounds of your breathing.

Despite the exhaustion that weighs down his shoulders, he feels warmed from inside out. Seeing the living room in the dim moonlight sends a tremor of deep affection and comfort through him. After days and days on this case, sleeping in the unfamiliar hotel room, hunching over maps and interviewing suspects, he’s been craving the ease of home.

Glancing at the grandfather clock shoved up against the left wall, Spencer winces. Three am. Setting his messenger bag down on the couch, he slowly pads through the apartment, darting into the kitchen to close the window (and to scarf down a handful of dry cereal). Next, he heads for his room, tapping in the code to his gun safe. Removing his holster, he carefully places it inside, locking it away.

His mind seems to go on autopilot at this point, all his thoughts quieted into a low buzz in the back of his head. Without much contemplation, he goes through the motions of changing, brushing his teeth and washing his face (with your cleanser). Just as these actions are routine, so is his next one.

Quietly, he walks across the hallway from the bathroom, softly pushing open your door. Pacing slowly over to your bedside, he can’t help but smile, seeing how you’ve tangled yourself up in the sheets, half your body uncovered.

Like he does most nights he’s home, he picks up the water bottle on your nightstand, the weight of it indicating that it’s empty. He knows that you’ll probably wake up obscenely early, your throat dry. If the bottle stays empty, you’ll have to get out of bed for a glass of water, and then you’ll be too awake to go back to sleep.

So, like he’s done countless times before, Spencer grabs the bottle, walks into the kitchen to fill it up, and returns to your room.

Placing it on your nightstand again, he lingers for a moment, feeling the fatigue of the last few days wearing him down. He reaches down slowly, making sure his touch stays light. Brushing against the hair that covers your face, he can feel himself trying to return to his body. His mind is still far, far away, however. A sigh rushing past his lips, he retracts his hands, walking out of your room and shutting the door behind him.

When you wake up, sleep weighing down your eyelids, the first thing you notice is that it’s pleasantly warm. There are no sounds coming in from the street. Instead it’s more quiet, as if all the windows have been closed.

The next thing you feel is the nagging dryness at the back of your mouth. Rolling over in bed, you grope blindly on your nightstand. Despite remembering draining your bottle dry before you went to sleep, you’re hoping against hope that there’ll be a few drops left at the bottom.

When your fingertips find purchase against the metal, you’re surprised to find the bottle heavy to lift, somehow full. After gulping down several mouthfuls, it's only then that you have the wherewithal to actually process what you’ve noticed.

It’s still dark. The windows are closed. Your bottle filled. This has happened before, and you know exactly what that means.

Somehow tired out by that feat of cognitive excellence, you place your bottle back down, shifting to sit up on your bed. Allowing your mind to fall back into the welcome embrace of half-sleep, you grip your blanket around your shoulders, standing with a wobble.

Following the route that your feet know better than your brain, you shuffle into the hallway, down a few doors before pushing open the wooden door.

Half-lidded eyes fall on the lump under the navy-blue covers, and your shoulders droop impossibly further, drawn to the softness of that bed. Without another thought, you pad forward, flopping unceremoniously on the bed next to Spencer.

Drowsily rearranging both your and his blankets so that you’re both covered up, you slot in behind him, your knees flush against the backs of his. Burying your face in the surprisingly wide expanse of his back, you exhale, melting against his warm body.

A sleepy grumble emanates from his chest, and he shifts, one large hand moving to rest atop the forearm you’ve got slung over his middle.

The apartment is quiet, the windows are closed and both of you are quickly caught by the tendrils of sleep.

#dividers creds to cursed-carmine #alisha <3 #roommate!spencer #mie writes #spencer.r #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #roommate!au #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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mywhisperingwords · 21 days ago

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baby, no attachments | fred g. weasley

summary: sneaking into fred weasley’s room was never meant to mean anything—until it suddenly did word count: 3.9k masterlist

The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when you stirred, tangled in a mess of warm sheets and Fred’s arm slung across your waist.

His dorm was quiet, save for his soft breathing and the occasional creak of wood as one of his dormmates shifted in their sleep.

For a long moment, you didn’t move.

Fred was warm behind you, his bare chest rising and falling against your back, his hand resting just under your ribs like he had every right to be there. It was easy to pretend, in moments like this, that the space you occupied in his bed was the same as the one you occupied in his life.

You turned your head, catching sight of his tousled hair and the faintest hint of a smile on his face, even as he dozed. There was a tenderness to him in sleep, a kind of softness you rarely got to see when he was fully awake and full of mischief. You let your gaze trail over the freckles scattered across his shoulder, letting yourself trace invisible constellations—quietly, foolishly hoping they might lead to something more certain.

It felt safe here—like nothing else existed but the two of you.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You flinched, caught, and his grin widened without even opening his eyes. “Was not,” you whispered back, careful not to wake anyone else.

“Was too,” he countered, finally cracking one eye open. His hand slid to your hip, fingers curling slightly as if to keep you there.

“I have to go,” you said, but you didn’t move, and he knew it.

Fred’s grip tightened. “Don’t.”

His voice carried a teasing lilt, but something in it made your breath hitch. You didn’t want to give it a name—but it wasn’t nothing.

“Fred,” you warned gently, trying not to laugh as his leg draped over yours, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he whispered, leaning closer until his nose brushed against your temple. “What’s the worst that could happen? We get caught? Big deal. I’ll tell them you were helping me study.”

“This early? And for what, exactly?” you teased, finally turning to meet his gaze.

Fred smirked, mischief lighting up his features. “Advanced Wandwork. You’re an excellent teacher, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are.” His hand skimmed down your arm, catching your wrist and tugging you closer. “Don’t go.”

Your resolve wavered. It always did when he looked at you like that—unguarded, open in a way that made it hard to breathe. Like maybe this meant more to him than you were allowed to believe. Like maybe the rules you told yourself not to break—don’t hope, don’t ask, don’t want too much—were already fraying at the edges.

“If I don’t leave now, Lee will wake up and start asking questions,” you whispered.

Fred groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. “Fine, but only because I care about your reputation or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you echoed, sliding out from beneath the covers. The chill of the dormitory hit you immediately, and you shivered as you gathered your clothes from the floor.

He watched you, propped up on one elbow, his hair sticking up in every direction. He looked absurd. He looked perfect. And you hated how much you wanted this to mean something more.

He didn’t say anything until you were pulling on your shoes, your back to him.

“Hey,” he called softly.

You turned, and he was watching you again—closely this time, like he might miss something important if he blinked.

He grinned, boyish and bright. “I’ll miss you.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you tried to hide your smile. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.”

You rolled your eyes again, but your heart betrayed you, thudding a little harder in your chest. “Go back to sleep, Fred.”

“Come back tonight?” he asked, quieter now. Less playful. Like a question with layers.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.

“Good,” he said, sinking back into the pillows. “See you later.”

You slipped out the door, your steps careful and quiet, but your thoughts were loud. You told yourself not to read into it. Not to get carried away. But Fred’s voice lingered, soft and stubborn in your head.

⸻

The common room was eerily quiet, the hour so late it bordered on early. A chill hung in the air, and the last embers in the fireplace had died to ash. The silence felt heavier than usual, like the castle itself was holding its breath.

You glanced over your shoulder before ascending the boys’ staircase, your steps instinctively light, avoiding the creaky spots you’d learned to memorize through too many nights like this.

Fred’s door was slightly ajar. The moonlight spilled through the high windows, casting silver shadows across the floor and tracing the outlines of the beds. He was already awake—waiting—his head lifting from the pillow as you slipped inside and eased the door shut behind you.

“Took your time,” he whispered, voice rough and low, soft enough to blend into the quiet.

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the room, your movements fluid, familiar. “You try sneaking past Angelina without a plan. She’s like a human Secrecy Sensor.”

Fred smirked, his hair sticking up in every direction as he sat up. “Well, we wouldn’t want her catching you, would we?”

His tone had lightened, teasing as always, but his eyes lingered on you in a way that made your breath catch. There was something else behind his gaze tonight—something quieter, more watchful. A pause you didn’t quite know how to name.

“Come here,” he murmured.

You didn’t hesitate. The bed creaked softly beneath you as you slid in beside him, his arms winding around your waist like second nature. His lips found yours in a kiss that was brief but grounding, like an unspoken reassurance. You felt him smile against your mouth before he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back, matching his smile without even thinking.

His fingers traced lightly along the back of your neck, his touch feather-soft and easy. “You didn’t wake the others, did you?”

“Of course not,” you said, mock-offended. “I’m stealthy, remember?”

His eyes sparked with amusement. “Like a thestral in a china shop.”

“Would you rather I didn’t come?”

“Not a chance.”

The stillness returned, settling around the two of you like a blanket. He lay down beside you, and you curled into him, his arm pulling you close, your head tucked beneath his chin. It was a rhythm you’d grown used to—the way your bodies fit together, how his warmth filled the spaces the cold left behind.

But even as you relaxed into him, even as his fingers brushed gently along your arm, you still sometimes felt it—the hesitation, so slight it was nearly imperceptible. Like he wasn’t sure if he should hold you so tightly. Like he was always half-waiting for the moment you might pull away.

“Cold?” he asked, fingers lightly tracing the fabric of your sleeve.

You shook your head. “No. You’re warm.”

“Good.” His hand stilled, thumb brushing back and forth in slow, lazy arcs. You listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, willing yourself to sink into it, to let it lull you into sleep.

And for a while, it did.

But sometime later, you startled awake, breath caught in your throat, chest tight in a way that had no name. The room was dark, the world too quiet, and you felt unmoored.

“Hey.” Fred’s voice slipped into the quiet, groggy but alert. He stirred beside you, his arm tightening protectively around your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” You paused, unsure. “I don’t know. A nightmare, I think.”

He was silent for a long beat. Then his hand moved to rub soothing circles over your back. “You okay?”

“I think so.”

Fred shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. Moonlight outlined his profile—his furrowed brow, the crease between his eyebrows, the softness in his eyes. “You want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling suddenly small, the edges of the dream already fading but leaving something raw behind. “No. I’m fine.”

“Liar,” he said lightly, though his gaze didn’t waver. “You’re terrible at lying, you know.”

You gave a weak smile. “I’m not that bad.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “You always do this thing with your nose when you’re lying. It scrunches up, just a little.”

Your brow furrowed. “It does not.”

“It does.” He grinned and reached out to tap your nose. “See? There it is.”

You batted his hand away, the gesture soft and half-hearted. “You’re making that up.”

“Am I?”

His tone was warm, teasing—but gentler than usual. His hand ghosted over your shoulder, grounding you.

“Fred, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” His voice quieted. “Look, if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But if I see your nose scrunch up again, I’m going to assume you’re secretly plotting against me.”

You laughed—a small, real sound that surprised even you. You buried your face in his shirt, muffling it.

“There it is,” he said again, softer now, brushing his knuckles along your cheek.

For the rest of the night, Fred didn’t fill the silence with jokes or mischief. Instead, he whispered half-thoughts and soft nonsense, his voice like a hand held out in the dark.

You didn’t sleep again, not really—but it didn’t matter. He stayed with you, the space between you full of warmth, and care, and the quiet ache of something too tender to name.

⸻

The corridor was unusually quiet for midday, the usual crowd thinned by lunch and looming N.E.W.T. panic. The air had that soft, golden glow of early spring—sunlight catching on dust motes and making even the dull stone floors feel a little warmer.

Fred was walking beside you, arms crossed behind his head like he hadn’t a care in the world. He nudged you lightly with his elbow every few steps, clearly enjoying himself. You’d been laughing for the last five minutes straight.

“And then he goes, ‘Fred, that’s not a Flobberworm, that’s my shoe!’”

You gasped, half-disbelieving, half-dying of laughter. “You didn’t.”

Fred looked smug. “In my defense, it was dark, and the shoe was moving.”

“No, it wasn’t!��

“Well, it could have been,” he said, grinning. “It might’ve been cursed.”

You shook your head, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “You’re an idiot.”

“Only for you,” he shot back, and for a second, neither of you said anything. Just that quick silence that hangs between two people who aren’t quite sure if something has shifted.

You looked away first, cheeks warm, smile lingering as you both rounded a corner.

“I was thinking,” he said after a beat, nudging your shoulder again. “About tonight.”

You raised a brow. “Oh?”

Fred looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes before he smirked again. “Come to the Astronomy Tower with me.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “So romantic. Gonna push me off?”

He laughed. “Nah. I was thinking something more subtle. Like poison.”

“Good to know you’ve been planning this.”

“Always.” His voice was warm, teasing, but then he added, more softly, “Just come. We won’t get caught. And it’s supposed to be clear out tonight. You like stars, right?”

You blinked, thrown by the sudden sincerity underneath the mischief. “I do.”

“Good. Then it’s a date.”

He said it easily, like he didn’t think about it too hard—but your stomach still fluttered.

“A date, huh?” you echoed.

But before he could answer, you heard a loud echo of footsteps behind you.

“Oi, Fred!”

The sound of running footsteps broke the moment as Lee and George rounded the corner, both slightly out of breath.

“There you are,” George said. “You’re gonna make us late.”

Fred gave you an apologetic smile. “Duty calls.”

“See you later,” you said, still smiling, a little dazed.

Fred started to walk backward again, that grin of his never fading. “You better.”

You turned, starting down the corridor in the opposite direction, his laughter still echoing faintly behind you. The smile stayed on your lips, light and warm.

Until—

“Wait, wait, hold on,” you heard Lee say, his voice drifting down the corridor. “Are you two—are you dating?”

Fred’s answer came a beat later, casual and light. “No. It’s nothing serious.”

The words landed like a slap—so casual. So thoughtless.

Your breath caught, your smile freezing in place before it slowly slid away. You kept your eyes forward, forcing yourself to keep walking, like the comment hadn’t lodged itself somewhere under your ribs.

Behind you, George or Lee said something else—maybe a joke, maybe nothing—but the words blurred in your ears, drowned out by the sudden quiet inside your chest.

You didn’t look back.

You just walked, his voice echoing in your mind.

“It’s nothing serious.”

Funny how everything could feel so serious only seconds before.

⸻

You didn’t go to the Astronomy Tower that night.

You meant to. You really did.

You sat on the edge of your bed with your shoes on and your jacket in hand, eyes trained on the clock as it ticked past each minute, slow and cruel. You imagined him waiting—hands shoved into his pockets, hair windblown, looking up at the stars and maybe even thinking of you.

But then you heard his voice again in your mind.

“It’s nothing serious.”

Casual. Effortless. Like it was obvious.

And suddenly, everything inside you curled up tight.

So you stayed in bed. Lights off. Eyes open.

⸻

The next morning, you skipped breakfast.

The morning after that, you took a different corridor to class. By the third day, you were running out of detours—Fred had a knack for showing up where you least expected, like the universe was conspiring against you.

But you were good at pretending. Better than you expected. You could laugh at jokes, nod at friends, sit through lessons without flinching. You could go an entire day without looking over your shoulder.

Still, you felt him everywhere.

In the way your chest tensed when you passed the Astronomy Tower.

In the way your fingers twitched every time someone said his name.

In the ache behind your ribs when you lay in bed alone, remembering how he used to say “stay” like it was the easiest thing in the world.

⸻

Fred cornered you four days later.

You’d nearly made it out of the library, arms full of books, head ducked, doing your best to blend into the late-evening crowd. But he was fast, stepping in front of you with no warning, like he’d been waiting for the exact moment you’d try to vanish again.

“Okay,” he said, voice tight, eyes sharp. “What the hell is going on?”

You blinked up at him, heart crashing against your ribs.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said quickly, the lie scraping against your tongue.

Fred narrowed his eyes. “Really? Because I haven’t seen you in days. You didn’t show up the other night. You’re avoiding me.”

You tried to step around him. He stepped with you.

“Talk to me,” he said, softer now. Pleading.

The dam cracked. Just a little.

“I’m busy,” you said. “That’s all.”

He scoffed, taking a step closer. “Busy avoiding me, maybe. Did I do something? Because if I did, just tell me. Don’t shut me out.”

Your jaw tightened. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” he insisted. “You’re acting like I—like I hurt you.”

That did it.

You laughed, bitter and breathless, the sound cracking down the middle. “Well, that’s funny.”

Fred’s expression faltered. “What?”

Your hands curled around the edges of your books, knuckles white. “You don’t get to act confused, Fred.”

He took a step back, like your words had physically shoved him. “I—I don’t understand.”

“No. You don’t,” you said, the anger bubbling up now, hot and sharp. “You don’t get to ask me what’s wrong after saying it wasn’t serious. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.”

Fred blinked. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“Your friends asked if we were dating,” you said. “And you just—just brushed it off. ‘It’s nothing serious.’ That’s what you said.”

Silence.

He stared at you, mouth slightly open, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Like it hadn’t even occurred to him.

And that hurt worst of all.

“You looked me in the eyes and made plans with me right before,” you went on, voice rising, cracking. “You kissed me. You asked me to stay. And then the second someone asked—you couldn’t deny it fast enough.”

Fred opened his mouth.

No words came out.

You shook your head, the ache in your chest swelling so big you could hardly breathe around it. “Why do you care if I disappeared? You made it pretty clear I’m just some secret you’re not willing to admit to.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, but it was too quiet. Too late.

You stepped back, throat tight, vision blurry around the edges. “Well, congratulations. Message received.”

And before he could find the words—or maybe just admit that he didn’t have them—you turned and walked away.

This time, he didn’t stop you.

And it was worse than if he had.

⸻

The days that followed passed like a slow bruise.

Nothing dramatic. No storm. No outbursts.

Just silence.

Fred didn’t try to talk to you again—not really. Not in the corridors, not in the common room. He looked, though. You felt it. In every hallway. Across every meal. Like he was watching from across some invisible line he didn’t know how to cross.

And you—well, you tried not to let it show.

You sat with your friends. You laughed at the right moments. You handed in assignments. You did everything you were supposed to do. And still, it felt like something inside you was holding its breath.

You didn’t cry. Not really. Just stared at the ceiling some nights with your chest hollowed out and your throat tight and told yourself this was better.

It was better, wasn’t it?

Because you’d known. Deep down, you’d always known. Fred Weasley didn’t do serious. Not with you. Not with anyone.

He never said forever. Never promised anything. Never used any of those words people use when they mean more. He was fun and warm and reckless, and it had been easy to believe—for a while—that maybe you were the exception. That maybe, just maybe, this was something real.

But now, you knew better.

And still, every time the door opened, some small, stupid part of you looked up. Hoping.

⸻

He found you again in the corridor outside the Charms classroom, just after the bell had rung and most students were still filtering out in clusters of noise and motion.

You hadn’t seen him coming.

He didn’t speak at first, just stepped into your path, not blocking you—just… there.

You froze.

Fred looked awful. Hair a little messier than usual. Circles under his eyes. And a strange kind of stillness that made you nervous, because Fred never stood still. Not like this.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

Your fingers curled tighter around the strap of your bag. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” he said, softer now. “I—I don’t know how else to fix this.”

You looked away. “I don’t think you can.”

Fred’s mouth opened like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

He tried again. “What I said. That day. About us not being serious. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You forced a laugh, bitter and quiet. “How else could you have meant it, Fred?”

“I panicked,” he admitted, eyes searching your face. “They asked, and I said the first thing that came to mind. I didn’t want them to start teasing or asking questions—I just didn’t think. I didn’t mean for it to sound like you don’t matter.”

“But that’s how it sounded,” you said, voice low. “And you didn’t come after me. You didn’t say anything until now.”

“I didn’t know how,” Fred said. “I didn’t know if I had the right to.”

You met his gaze then, and for once, he didn’t smile. Didn’t try to joke. Just looked at you like he’d run out of masks to wear.

“I like you,” he said, the words breaking open something in his chest. “I’ve liked you for a while. And I never said it because I didn’t want to mess it up. I thought if I just—if we kept things easy, it’d be enough. But it wasn’t. Not for me. And obviously not for you, either.”

You felt your throat tighten.

Fred stepped closer, careful, slow, like you might vanish again. “You matter to me. You’re not nothing. You’ve never been nothing. I didn’t know how to say that before, but I’m saying it now.”

You stared at him.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But something inside you still bristled, still remembered how easily he’d brushed it off when someone else was listening.

“I don’t know if I can go back to how things were,” you said, voice trembling. “I don’t want to feel like I’m waiting around for you to make up your mind.”

Fred shook his head. “I have made up my mind. I just made a mess of showing it. I get it if you need space. I get it if you don’t believe me. But I’d rather wait for you, even if it takes ages, than pretend I don’t care. Because I do. So much more than I’ve ever said out loud.”

You didn’t respond right away.

Because even now, you weren’t sure if letting him in again would break you all over. But you weren’t sure if walking away would hurt any less.

And yet… when you looked at him—really looked—you saw it.

Not the cocky grin. Not the easy charm. Just Fred, stripped down to something raw and honest. He wasn’t trying to win you back with clever words. He was just standing there, hoping you’d still let him try.

You swallowed hard, blinking past the tightness in your throat.

“I believe you,” you said softly.

Fred’s shoulders dropped, like he’d been holding his breath without realizing it. He took a small step forward—and this time, he didn’t stop himself.

“I do,” you repeated, steadier now. “But if this is going to mean something—if we’re going to try—I need you to take it seriously. No more hiding. No more brushing it off when it gets inconvenient.”

Fred nodded immediately, eyes locked on yours like he didn’t want to miss a single word.

He hesitated, then gave a small, crooked smile. “Alright. No more hiding.”

A pause.

“Unless it’s you sneaking into my room again. I think we should keep that part.”

You tried not to smile. Failed completely. “Oh, do you?”

“Absolutely. It’s the only way I get any decent sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, but when he stepped closer, you didn’t stop him. And when his arms slid around you, careful and warm, you let yourself lean into him.

It wasn’t a grand gesture. No dramatic declarations. Just the quiet press of his forehead against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the strange, wonderful feeling of finally being in the same place at the same time.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and for the first time, it didn’t feel uncertain.

It felt like a beginning. One you actually wanted.

412 notes · View notes

riddlesbunny · 3 months ago

Text

busy woman

summary: As a dedicated Ravenclaw, you have no time for distractions, not even the charming Theodore Nott… unless.

pairing: Theo Nott x Ravenclaw!Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: Explicit smut, mentions of alcohol, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, p in v sex, lmk if I missed anything pls 18+ MDNI

note: send requests :))

Although you aren’t a fan of stereotypes, there is no denying the sorting hat chose the perfect house for you. You take great pride in your smarts and aim for academic excellence.

Extracurriculars, as far as you’re concerned, are just that—extra. And you have little interest in anything that pulls you away from your studies. Even when your housemates try to get you to join clubs or attend social events, you usually politely decline.

You have high standards for yourself, and there is no shame in that. If you want a successful career at the Ministry of Magic one day, you need to keep a steady head on your shoulders.

However, you aren’t a total prude. One evening, curiosity got the best of you and led you to a party in the Slytherin common room. You were overworked, on the verge of being burnt out, so when one of your girlfriend’s invited you to a party you couldn’t bring yourself to decline.

To make a long story short, you ended up taking one too many shots of firewhisky and landed yourself in Theodore Nott’s bed.

Before that evening you would have considered Theo an acquaintance at best. He was in a few of your classes, you had worked on a few projects together, and even occasionally engaged in small talk. But since the party he’s barely even looked in your direction. Which was fine. Right?

Days later, as you’re busy editing your Potions essay, a shadow falls across your paper. Looking up, you meet the familiar green eyes of the Slytherin boy. He hesitates before speaking, causing your anxiety to spiral.

“Did you need something?” You blurt out.

“I need your help,” he admits, “I’m struggling in Transfiguration, and McGonagall suggested I find a tutor.”

You’re caught off guard because let’s be honest: there’s no way this is just about tutoring. Not with the way he’s looking at you, all lazy smirks and knowing eyes, like he’s already expecting you to say yes. Like he already knows you won’t say no.

And he’s right. You should say no—because the last time you let yourself get caught up with Theo, you ended up tangled in his sheets and completely at his mercy, but you won’t. You can’t.

After a long pause, you nod, “Alright. I guess,” you shrug, “you can come to my dorm tonight.”

His expression softens with relief, “thank you, bella! I appreciate this, truly.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, nervously twisting the hem of your sweater between your fingers.

You had agreed to this. Invited him, even. But now, as you wait for Theo to arrive, doubt creeps in. What if this is a mistake? What if things became more complicated than they already were? You had spent so much time convincing yourself that what happened at the party was nothing—a fleeting moment, a distraction you couldn’t afford. Yet here you were, heart racing, palms slightly clammy.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a swift knock.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stand. With one last deep breath, you cross the room and reach for the door handle, fingers trembling slightly.

And then, you open it and there is Theo, looking handsome as ever, leaning against the door frame.

“Ciao, bella signora,” he greets with a smile. Hi, pretty lady.

"Thanks for doing this," he continues, his voice deep and warm. His eyes scan over your body quickly before settling on yours again.

"Hey,” you swallow, “no problem." You try to play it cool, but your breath hitches as he moves past you into the room.

Theo brushes past you eagerly, “so, where do we start?" he asks, turning around, his dimples making an appearance. His large frame seems out of place in your small room.

"Let's sit here," you say, patting the spot next to you sit on the bed.

He sits down beside you, leaving enough space that you could mistake it for being polite. But not too much. His leg rests just inches away from yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

You start by explaining the basics of Transfiguration, your fingers instinctively moving through the air to illustrate your points.

Things are going fine until it is apparent that Theo is bored. He uses his quill to pester you. Lightly brushing it against the tip of your nose, then down the curve of your jaw.

"Would you quit it?!" you snap at him but he only grins wickedly at your reaction.

“Just trying to keep things interesting, fiend for learning," he replies smoothly.

Your cheeks flush red as he drags the feather lightly across your lips. Before you know it, the quill has dropped and his hand takes its place.

Tension fills the rooms and although you want to berate him again, you don’t.

Theo slides his thumb over your bottom lip, tracing it before gently pushing it inside. Instinctively, you suck on it, betraying yourself.

"There’s the good girl I know,” he murmurs.

His thumb strokes your tongue, exploring the soft warmth inside. His other hand joins in at tormenting you, sliding up your thigh slowly until it reaches the hem of your skirt.

Theo's fingers slide higher, pressing gently beneath your skirt. Your breath hitches when he finds the damp fabric of your panties and his eyes gleam darkly, as if questioning how long you've been wet.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with his lips, capturing them softly. You lean into the kiss, craving more as his tongue parts your lips while his hands explore your body like a sculptor, feeling every contour and curve. He slips one hand between your legs, cupping your pussy roughly through the damp fabric of your panties.

You whimper as he grips the front of your panties, pulling sharply until they rip away easily. His warm hand presses against your bare mound and he chuckles approvingly at how wet you are for him.

Two thick fingers rub along your slit, spreading your wetness all over.

"Mmm," he moans, grinding his palm against your clit. He hooks those same fingers into you, filling you up as sets a steady pace pumping his digits in and out of you.

You gasp at the sudden invasion, your hips bucking forward as his arm pins you down.

"Look at that tight little hole sucking my fingers in so greedily, who knew you were such a dirty little slut under all that prude charm?" Theo growls, before adding a third finger.

Stretching you wider as he pumps into you with vigor. "I bet you're just dying to have my cock buried deep inside you," he says, his eyes never leaving yours.

You groan in response, nodding. Theo smirks at your eagerness and slowly withdraws his fingers. He pushes you back onto the bed and unbuckles his pants, revealing his massive cock to you.

He kneels over you, your legs spread wide. You look up at him, meeting his gaze as he slowly guides himself to your entrance. He toys with you, rubbing his head against your clit and swollen lips.

“Please, Theo…”

Theo grabs your legs, folding them upwards so that your calves rest against his chest. His grip tightens, holding you in position as he teases your dripping entrance once more.

Theo looks directly into your eyes as he finally enters you, his thick cock stretching you open. A low moan escapes your lips as he sinks deeper, the top of his cock already hitting your sweet spot.

You feel yourself tightening around him, so snug that each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. Theo lets out a groan as he drives into you relentlessly, the force of his thrusts causing your body to shift up the bed as wetness pools from your core and down your ass cheeks.

Your pathetic cries fill your tiny dorm room as Theo pummels you mercilessly, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, I missed this pussy, bella. Y'know that? Been thinkin' about you every night since I fist got a taste."

Your cheeks burn at his words.

"So. Fucking. Tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth between thrusts.

You bite your lip, stifling another moan as Theo pushes into you even further. Sweat beading down your forehead, threatening to cloud your vision.

"Oh god... I'm gonna-" you cry out loudly, digging your fingernails into his forearms as an intense orgasm rips through you.

Theo doesn't let up, he keeps fucking you hard throughout your climax, your pussy clenching tightly around him. "Bloody Hell," he swears, pounding into you as your muscles ripple with aftershocks.

"Please, Theo I can't take it anymore!" you cry out, but he is relentless, "keep taking it, baby. Let that pretty brain of yours turn off for once.”

He increases his pace as his thumb finds its way to your clit and he works the digit in circles around your sensitive bud, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. His cock pounds into you, filling every inch of your pussy— you’ve never felt so full.

Your tits bounce wildly as Theo's tempo increases, his efforts fueled by primal desire. He drops your legs and grips your hips tightly, changing angles with ease. You’re so overwhelmed that it almost hurts. Your body tingles with anticipation as Theo continues to plunder you. Every nerve ending is on fire, your brain hazy with lust, you are nothing but a babbling mess.

That familiar feeling of euphoria burns within as white hot electricity crashes over you.

“Yes! Yes!” You chant as Theo increases speed again, lifting your ass up slightly for better penetration.

Your soaked pussy clings to him, each stroke drawing wet sounds from your joining.

"You're close," you pant, barely able to form words as his thick length fills you completely, "that’s right mi amor," Theo grunts, slamming into you with newfound urgency as he leans down, gripping your hair and pulling you into a bruising kiss.

"Cum with me, bella," he demands against your lips, "c'mon, one more, you can do it.

Your nails dig into Theo's shoulders as your orgasm rips through you like a thunderstorm, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

Theo lets out a guttural groan, his balls tightening as he releases hot streams of cum inside you. He throbs deeply within you, savoring the sensation of your snug walls milking him dry.

Theo collapses onto you, panting heavily as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He pulls out slowly, watching as his spent cock pops free from your swollen folds.

"Thank you," he murmurs, "for everything."

This was only the beginning of your very complicated relationship with Theo Nott.

#theodore nott #theodore nott smutt #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x ravenclaw!reader #theo nott oneshot #slytherin #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys oneshot #slytherin boys imagine #harry potter drabble #harry potter #theo nott smut #theodore nott x you #theo nott imagine #theo x reader smut #theodore nott x reader

922 notes · View notes

cbeargyu · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii if reqs are still open can I ask for a coworker Doyoung finding out you're an onlyfans model....😭✋♥️

miss erotica

summary: you and doyoung are coworkers who maintain a strictly professional relationship… until he accidentally discovers your secret life as a lingerie model on onlyfans. tension builds, desires unravel, and when the truth finally comes out, you make him a filthy little offer he can't refuse.

pairing: coworker ! doyoung x coworker (of model) fem! reader

genre: smut, coworkers to lovers, slow burn tension, light dom!doyoung, lingerie kink, secret double life reveal.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, lingerie modeling, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral fixation (male receiving implied), cumshot on stomach/lace lingerie, cumshot on face (briefly mentioned), possessive behavior, light praise/degradation, slight overstimulation, photo taken for onlyfans post, doyoung jerking off alone at the end

wc: 3,6k

notes: omg, incredible request anon, i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for your requests, remember that they’re open, though it might take me some time to get to them due to my schedule🩷

working with doyoung had always been... easy. despite your desks being placed directly in front of each other, just a breath apart, the relationship stayed strictly professional. you weren't sure if it was because he was a workaholic who barely lifted his head from the screen, or if it was simply the nature of two people who lived parallel lives — polite, distant, untouched by anything messy or personal.

you knew the basics. he was single, lived alone, probably married to his job. you weren’t that different either — renting a cozy little apartment not far from the office, sharing your space with your two cats: milo, a silver tabby with a mischievous glint in his eye, and luna, a cream-colored ragdoll with lazy, half-lidded stares. you had exchanged bits of your life over small talk, shallow conversations at best. never more. never deeper.

what you didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that doyoung had a secret obsession — paying for content on onlyfans. not just any content. he was a loyal subscriber to a certain "miss erotica", a woman who never showed her face but showcased her body in ways that blurred the lines between art and temptation. he didn’t tell anyone. how could he? it was his private addiction, the one thing he allowed himself outside the endless deadlines and excel sheets.

then, one morning during a rare group breakfast at the office, the conversation drifted to pets. casual, harmless. you, smiling, pulled out your phone and showed a picture of your cats lounging by your living room window. milo, sprawled like a king, his silver fur shining under the sun; luna, tucked next to him, her cream coat like a spilled glass of milk against the dark wood floor.

"they're beautiful," someone cooed.

doyoung looked at the screen. and froze.

something pricked at the back of his mind. the silver tabby with the green collar... luna's cream fur... it looked familiar. almost too familiar.

he had seen them before.

but not here.

his heart stuttered, his throat going dry. he stayed silent, watching as you scrolled through more pictures, laughing, showing off your babies to the group. you didn't notice the way his eyes stayed glued to your screen, how his mind reeled.

because in one of miss erotica's most memorable posts — a shot of her ass in black lace panties, arching perfectly against a leather chair — there had been a cat in the background. a silver tabby. with the exact same green collar. and another fluff of cream lazing by a window.

doyoung’s stomach twisted.

no, it couldn't be.

he hadn't saved the picture. it had been months ago. it could be a coincidence. right?

he spent the rest of the day distracted, replaying the image in his mind, trying to grasp at details, trying to reason with himself. people had cats. cats could look similar. it didn’t have to be you.

and he almost let it go.

almost.

until summer came.

you traded your usual long-sleeved blouses for casual short-sleeve shirts, your skin kissed golden by the sun, the curve of your arm now exposed to his line of sight. that day, when you leaned across the desk to pass him a file, the hem of your sleeve rode up. doyoung’s eyes — traitorous, hungry — caught something.

a tattoo.

small, delicate.

a slender vine of wildflowers, curling around the back of your arm, the ink fine and dark against your skin.

he stared.

he knew that tattoo.

he had spent hours tracing it with his eyes on his screen, had memorized the way the petals twisted, the slight flaw in one of the leaves. miss erotica had that same tattoo. he had noticed it countless times while she modeled those sinful sets of lingerie — crimson silk, ivory lace, black leather.

doyoung’s heart slammed against his ribs. it wasn’t just a theory anymore. it was you.

he looked up slowly, meeting your eyes across the desk. you gave him a small, polite smile, unaware of the war raging inside him.

he swallowed thickly, his hands curling into fists under the desk.

fuck.

you were miss erotica.

and now, he couldn't unsee it. couldn't pretend he didn't know. every time you bent over slightly to pick up a file, every time you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, every time you laughed low and sweet — it all layered itself with the filthy, burning images he'd paid to see at 2 a.m.

it was you.

doyoung hadn’t just stumbled across your profile. he had been looking for something — something specific, something that scratched a very particular itch deep inside him. lingerie. but not just anyone posing in cheap lace or overexposed shots. he liked the slow burn, the tease, the art of it. miss erotica was perfect. you had perfected it.

your content wasn’t explicit in the obvious sense. no faces, no messy, desperate angles. it was the suggestion of sin, the elegance of a body wrapped in silken temptation. intricate corsets, delicate garter belts, sheer stockings stretched over soft skin. sometimes, he thought the way you positioned your hands was even sexier than nudity — subtle, knowing. you wore lace like it was a second skin, posed in ways that made his mind work, made him imagine peeling each layer off inch by inch.

he had a thing for thigh-high stockings. for black lace that hugged curves and hinted at forbidden places. and miss erotica — you — had a way of making every single photo feel personal. like you were posing just for him.

he had spent too many nights gripping the sheets in frustration, whispering your name under his breath, not even realizing it. miss erotica. miss erotica. it was stupid how deep it went.

and now...

you were sitting across from him at your shared desks, tapping away on your keyboard, completely unaware that the woman who had made him lose sleep, made him ache with need, was breathing the same office air as him.

it felt wrong.

it felt so good.

he was drowning in it.

the realization clung to him like static electricity. he watched the way your fingers danced across the keys, slender and sure, the same fingers he had imagined curled in the waistband of delicate panties. he watched the way you tilted your head slightly when you read something intently, exposing the soft line of your throat, the same throat he had dreamed of marking.

he couldn't focus.

he couldn’t fucking breathe.

you had no idea.

the days after the realization were torture.

doyoung tried to act normal — professional, polite, like he hadn't spent half the night with your photos burned into his eyelids. but it was impossible. now he noticed everything. the slight sway of your hips when you walked past his desk. the way your fingers sometimes absentmindedly played with the hem of your blouse. the shape of your mouth when you sipped your coffee. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fucking fair.

he needed a release. he needed you.

so one evening, as you both packed up your things, the office mostly deserted except for a few lingering coworkers, he cleared his throat and said casually, "hey, y/n... you doing anything tonight?"

you looked up, a little surprised — it was rare for doyoung to initiate anything that wasn’t strictly about work. "not really," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "why?"

he shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "thought maybe we could grab a drink. just... you know, decompress a bit. long week."

you smiled — a soft, genuine smile he didn’t usually get to see — and nodded. "yeah, sure. that sounds nice."

it was a simple moment.

ordinary.

but his pulse hammered against his ribs like he had just won something forbidden.

the bar he picked wasn’t far from the office. dimly lit, cozy, tucked away enough that no one from work would accidentally stumble in. he watched you under the low lights, the way you peeled off your jacket, revealing more of your arms — more of that tattoo — and he felt his mouth go dry.

you ordered something sweet. he ordered something strong.

conversation started off light. movies, weekend plans, the weather.

but as the drinks flowed, the distance between you seemed to shrink. your laughter got a little looser. your glances lingered a little longer. he leaned in, elbows brushing yours on the tiny table, and he could smell the soft, clean scent of your shampoo. he could imagine burying his face in it, breathing you in as he pressed your body against his.

"so," he said after a pause, voice a little rougher now, "you live alone, right?"

you nodded, swirling the ice in your glass. "yeah. just me and my two little troublemakers."

"the cats," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"mhm." you tilted your head, curious. "you remembered?"

he chuckled lowly. "hard to forget."

especially when those cats had haunted his fucking dreams alongside your lace-clad body.

you leaned in a little closer without realizing it, your knee brushing his under the table.

doyoung’s hand twitched, desperate to touch, desperate to confirm that you were real, that you were here, that he wasn’t losing his goddamn mind.

"you ever feel like people don’t really know you?" you said suddenly, voice soft, almost vulnerable. "like... you have this whole side of you no one even sees?"

you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

or maybe you did.

he set his glass down, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"i think," he said slowly, voice dropping, "some sides are meant for only a few lucky ones to see."

the air between you crackled, thick and heavy.

you swallowed hard, heart beating too fast.

you hadn’t realized how close you had leaned in. how close he was.

or maybe you had.

the space between you buzzed like an invisible wire pulled too tight. every time you shifted, his eyes flickered down, tracing the subtle lines of your body. you were painfully aware of it — of him — of the way his fingers curled against the edge of his glass, the way his jaw tensed whenever your knees brushed under the table.

you sipped your drink slowly, tongue darting out to catch a drop at the corner of your mouth. his gaze followed the movement like a man starved. you could practically feel the heat rolling off his body in thick, stifling waves.

the conversation faltered. it didn’t need words anymore. everything was felt.

"y/n," he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

you looked up, heart skipping.

there was something dangerous in his eyes. something that told you he wasn’t going to play pretend anymore.

"those cats of yours," he started, almost casually. "i swear i’ve seen them somewhere else before."

you smiled, slow, almost coy. "yeah?"

he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek. you could smell the bourbon on him, feel the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

"yeah," he murmured. "in a... very specific place."

a pause. a deliberate, loaded silence.

you set your glass down carefully, the ice clinking sharp in the quiet. "where, doyoung?" you asked, voice sweet, teasing. but your heart was hammering against your ribs, adrenaline and arousal twining together into something electric.

he watched you, pupils blown wide, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from reaching across the table and dragging you into him.

"onlyfans," he said finally. barely a whisper. a confession.

the word hung between you, scandalous and heavy.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away.

instead, you tilted your head, a slow, sinful smile curling your lips.

"miss erotica," he said, the name coming out like a prayer he had whispered a hundred times in the dark.

you leaned in, so close your knees were fully pressed together now under the table.

your voice dropped to a purr.

"so," you breathed, "you’re a fan of lingerie, huh?"

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, y/n... more than a fan."

the confession hung in the air like smoke, sweet and thick.

you let the moment stretch, savoring the way his body tensed, the way he shifted like he was seconds away from snapping.

"lace?" you murmured. "stockings? garters?"

he nodded, unable to look away from you, like you were the center of his whole fucking universe.

"all of it," he said, voice almost breaking. "i... i can’t get enough."

you licked your lips slowly, leaning back just a little to give him a view of the curve of your body under your blouse. teasing. tempting.

his fingers twitched like he was holding onto the last shred of his self-control.

"poor thing," you whispered. "must be hard, wanting something so bad and not being able to touch it."

his hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

"y/n," he warned, voice wrecked, pleading.

you smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

you leaned closer, so your mouth was right by his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

"what if," you whispered, so quietly it was almost obscene, "i modeled for you?"

he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering like he’d been struck.

you pulled back just enough to see his face — the desperation there, the hunger, the need.

"real life," you said, your fingers ghosting along the hem of your skirt under the table, just enough for him to catch the motion. "no screens. no distance."

he was trembling. you were trembling.

the world outside the little cocoon of the bar didn’t exist anymore.

there was only this — the heavy beat of your hearts, the unbearable pull between you, the promise of something dirty and sweet hanging in the air.

"you’d model for me," he said, disbelieving, wrecked.

"if you’re a good boy," you teased, wicked and tender all at once.

he let out a low, broken noise, half-growl, half-whimper, and you knew — you knew — that tonight was going to change everything.

you barely made it through the door before he was on you.

doyoung kicked the door shut behind him, hands everywhere, breath hot against your skin as he pressed you against the wall.

"fuck," he muttered against your neck, voice low and trembling with restraint. "you drive me insane."

you laughed softly, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

"patience," you whispered. "you still want me to model for you, don't you?"

he pulled back, eyes dark and wild, chest heaving.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, yeah. show me, baby. show me everything."

you slipped out from under him, sauntering toward your bedroom with a slow sway of your hips, feeling his gaze burning into you.

you could hear him curse under his breath, could hear the faint clink of his belt as he adjusted himself, trying to keep it together.

you left the door slightly ajar, just enough for him to peek in as you changed.

slowly, languidly, you stripped down, sliding the soft fabric of your blouse over your head, shimmying your skirt down your thighs.

you chose one of your best sets — a delicate black lace bralette and matching thong, the garter belt hugging your hips, sheer thigh-high stockings clipping into place with a soft click.

you posed in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the straps, making sure everything sat just right, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

"come in," you called sweetly.

the door creaked open and there he was, standing there, jaw clenched, eyes practically black.

his hands fisted at his sides like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.

you turned slowly, letting him take you in — the curve of your ass in the sheer lace, the tight lines of the garter straps, the soft swell of your breasts barely contained by the delicate fabric.

"holy fuck," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you're gonna kill me."

you sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, your fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the tremor beneath your touch.

"sit," you commanded, voice like velvet.

he obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling one strong thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath you.

your soaked panties pressed against him as you started to rock your hips, slow, grinding motions that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding your movements as you rode his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

"fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you, dark and hungry. "so fucking pretty, so fucking wet."

you rolled your hips against his thigh, your soaked panties dragging delicious friction along the hard muscle beneath you.

doyoung watched you with a look that was pure hunger, his hands locked on your waist, controlling your pace, forcing you to grind harder, deeper.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice a wreck of desire. "you’re fucking yourself on my thigh like a desperate little thing."

you whimpered, grinding harder, feeling the rough fabric of his pants rubbing right against your clit through the thin lace.

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for anymore — more, faster, him.

he growled low in his throat, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto the bed in one smooth, desperate motion.

"can't wait anymore," he muttered, tugging his shirt over his head, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. "need you. now."

you spread your legs eagerly, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the rest of his clothes, his cock thick and leaking, curving up toward his stomach.

he crawled over you, one hand sliding up your thigh, tracing the garter strap, hooking his fingers under it and snapping it playfully against your skin, making you gasp.

"keep it on," he ordered, voice dark and low. "i wanna fuck you in this."

you nodded frantically, hips canting up toward him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you inch by agonizing inch.

"so tight," he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. "so fucking good."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning brokenly as he started to move — slow at first, grinding deep inside you, savoring every second.

the lace scraped lightly against his skin, the garters tugging with every thrust, the whole thing messy and desperate and perfect.

he fucked you like he couldn't get close enough, couldn't get deep enough, like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.

then he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, fucking you slow and filthy, making you feel every inch of him.

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his cock still buried deep inside, his hands rough on your hips.

you cried out, legs trembling, the pressure building fast and brutal.

"wanna see you cum," he growled, fucking you harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you. "wanna feel you."

your orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping, clinging to him as you shattered apart.

his voice was low, almost a growl against your ear: "where do you want it, baby? tell me."

you whimpered, meeting his eyes, feeling the heat of your own desperation mirrored in his gaze.

"on my face and... my lingerie," you whispered, voice shaking with need. "i want you to ruin it."

his eyes darkened impossibly further, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal.

"fuck. fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling out at the last second.

he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock with a few rough strokes, and then he was painting your face with hot, sticky ropes of cum, groaning your name like a prayer.

you moaned softly, licking a drop from your lip, watching him through hooded eyes.

but he wasn't done yet.

he stroked himself back to hardness almost immediately, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you arched your back for him, showing off the perfect view — the lace barely covering your ass, the garters framing your curves beautifully.

he jerked himself hard and fast, the obscene sounds of slick skin filling the room, until he came again, thick and messy across your lower back and ass, the cum soaking into the delicate lace.

you stayed like that for a moment, panting, letting it drip down your skin.

you watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering, feeling every hot splash land on you, branding you, claiming you exactly the way you asked for.

he collapsed onto the couch beside you, chest heaving, watching you with a dazed, satisfied grin.

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the slick mess cooling on your skin, the ruined lace clinging to you obscenely.

and then, with a wicked little smile, you reached for your phone. you angled it perfectly — the sticky, creamy mess glistening across your stomach, the black lace sheer against your flushed skin.

click.

you uploaded it to your onlyfans with a simple, filthy caption:

"he made me a mess tonight."

hours later, doyoung sat on his own bed, phone in hand, heart pounding.

he opened your page and there it was — your body, still trembling, still glistening with the evidence of his obsession.

his cock twitched violently, already leaking, already aching.

he groaned low in his throat, unable to stop himself from palming his cock roughly, needing relief, needing you all over again.

he came in seconds, harsh and hot across his stomach, your name a broken whisper on his lips.

and he knew.

he was never going to survive you.

647 notes · View notes

eternal-evergreens · 5 months ago

Text

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - VI"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Non/Con, Gore, Physical Abuse, Victim Blaming, Mental Breaks, Bondage, Abduction, Drugging, Murder/Death, Dissociation, Dissociative Amnesia/Lost Time,

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

You’ve been trying to loosen your bonds for a while—the drugs long out of your system—but it’s hard when one of your wrists is injured. You can hardly move it without pain shooting up your entire arm. You can hardly even feel your fingers, and you’re sure that if you could look, they’d be white as a sheet—or, worse, purple. You stop your shuffling when you hear footsteps approaching the door. Kylar walks in, holding a sketchbook. He probably wants to draw you.

“Kylar, can you take a look at my hands? I think the ropes might be cutting off circulation.” Please don’t be into gangrene, please don’t be into gangrene, please don’t be into gangrene. Kylar puts the food down and walks behind you.

He touches your hand. “C-can you feel that?”

“Feel what?” You say, trying to feign ignorance in hopes you’ll be taken more seriously. Kylar doesn’t say anything, but you feel him undo your restraints before retying them more lightly. Despite the pain, or perhaps because of it, you have to suppress a sigh in relief as you feel pins and needles begin to prick at your skin.

“Better?” Kylar stands in front of you now.

“Could you just undo them instead? I’ll be good, I promise.” You bat your eyes and try to put on your best cutesy voice, but Kylar just shakes his head. You aren’t going to convince him this way. He wants you helpless.

You’re going to have to try something else.

Bile threatens to rise up your throat, but you suppress it as you allow your eyes to droop in a more seductive manner. “Really? That’s a shame…I was going to surprise you with something if you did, but if you don’t want to…” Kylar’s eyes go wide.

“W-wait! I’ll do it!” He rushes behind you, scrambling to get your binds off with such haste that it actually takes longer than if he had taken his time. When you’re finally free, you don’t hesitate to rush to Kylar, pushing him against the wall with your uninjured hand. He doesn’t resist, and you can tell from his flushed face and his erratic breathing that his guard is nonexistent right now. You kiss him, pinning his hands above his head. When he closes his eyes, you knee him in the balls as hard as you can. +Control

Kylar crumples to the floor, but you doubt he’ll stay there long. You rush towards the door and swing it open, following the flickering and entering the room it leads to. You grab the flashlight and run out the door, fumbling to turn it on in the dark as you focus on running.

You don’t make it in time. You run into Kylar, knocking both him and yourself over. You scramble to get up, but Kylar has already grabbed your arm. He’s not very strong, but your panic doesn’t allow you to recognize that, and you freeze. Only for a second, but a second is all it takes. You feel a sharp pain in your arm, and everything fades to black.

—————————

It is Sunday, the 13th of September, 2022. It has been 9 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: Tears well in your eyes Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You feel refreshed Stress: You are strained Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 6 days to escape.

When you wake up this time, you feel much less under the weather than the first time you were hit. Probably due to the fact it had been several hours since you were shot. You feel capable of basic movement, and you’re confident that if you can just fight through the pain, you’ll be able to get out of these bonds.

And you do. You rub against your restraints until you feel something warm and wet trickle down from your wrists onto the floor. Then you keep going. +++Pain +++Willpower

Your ropes are looser than they were. But it could easily take another day or even two until you’re able to get out of them. After your first attempt, Kylar double-wrapped you, and he added ropes to connect your legs to the chair.

You hear footsteps approaching the door, so you stop struggling and wait. The next thing you know, the room is dark, and Kylar is on the floor with his head in your naked lap, seemingly sleeping. You feel slime on your bare skin between your thighs and fresh bruises all over your body. There are bandages on your wrists. He probably noticed your attempt to escape and hit you for it. You don’t know. You have no way of knowing. All you know is that you’re hurt and scared, your ropes are just as tight as they were this morning, and now even your waist is tied to the chair.

You can’t do anything about it without waking up Kylar, so you’ll have to wait until morning before trying anything else.

—————————

It is Monday, the 14th of September, 2022. It has been 10 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: Tears run down your face Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are strained Trauma: You feel numb Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 5 days to escape.

“Good morning, my little tease,” Kylar says, smiling and without a hint of embarrassment.

Do you wish to view Kylar’s stats? Y/N

You blink twice at “Yes,” and a blue textbook appears beside him.

Kylar The Loner Kylar is manic Fascination: 100% Love: 10% Devotion: 10% Jealousy: 95% Lust: 55%

Before you have time to process the new changes in his devotion and love stats, Kylar begins to sob.

“W-what are you looking at? I’m right here!” He waves an arm in front of the textbox, effectively blocking your view. +++Jealousy

You turn your gaze back to him, and he visibly relaxes, though he still looks on edge.

“Sorry. I thought I saw a bug.” -Jealousy. Your voice is so dead that if it weren’t for the feeling of your vocal cords moving, you never would have recognized it as your own at all. Kylar tenses and quickly whips around, frantically searching for a bug that doesn’t exist. You use the opportunity to check his stats again, and see that in just the span of a few seconds, you’ve managed to up his jealousy from 96% to 99%.

You should be feeling dread right now, but all that washes over you is ice-cold indifference.

“I don’t see it,” Kylar says, voice low. “Were you lying to me?” You tilt your head but don’t answer. Kylar seems to be spurned on by this, though you know he would have found a way to get upset even with your input. “I don’t understand. Who are you thinking about?! I’m right here!” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you as much as your restraints will allow. You steal a glance towards the status window.

Jealousy: 100%

“Is…is it him? Were you thinking about him?” Kylar’s voice begins to take on a tone of insanity. “Wh-when we were together…were you pretending it was him?” His grip on you tightens, but you feel disconnected from the pain. He pushes your chair over again, leaving you to land painfully on your arms. Again. He starts hitting you, screaming incomprehensibly. You can make out a few words.

“Cheater”

“Love”

“Hate”

“Bailey”

You stop listening.

He’s still hitting you, straddling your waist to get a better angle. You wonder if he even realizes he’s hard right now. You hope not.

Kylar pulls a knife to your neck, pressing it against the skin until you feel something warm and wet start to dribble down and pool onto your collarbone. You stay like that for a few seconds, with Kylar methodically applying pressure at a rate too consistent for him to not be at least partially clear-headed.

You swallow. It was involuntary, and you hadn’t meant anything by it, but the movement seemed to be enough to break Kylar out of his daze as he quickly repulses, dropping the knife and staggering backward. It takes him a moment to realize he should probably set you upright again, too.

He doesn’t say anything, seemingly unable to do anything but meet your blank stare. You don’t say anything, either. You have nothing to say. Kylar hangs his head, muttering apologies to himself. You see tears dripping down onto the floor.

An idea strikes you.

“Do you want forgiveness?” You ask, trying (failing) to make your voice sound anything but flat. Kylar whips up, nodding his head vigorously. You see snot and tears running down his face, which is covered in blotches. Of course, he’s an ugly crier. You focus your vision away from his face. “Earn it.”

“H-how?” His voice indicates a clogged or tight throat. You guess he feels terrible. Good.

“Being cooped up at home isn’t good for anyone. Let’s go somewhere. Together.”

It takes a bit of convincing to get him to agree, but as soon as you mention the word “date,” he’s all but putty in your hands. He wanted to tie you to him, but you managed to talk him down to just holding your wrist like a slightly less madman. Your clothes have been irreparably destroyed; you’ll have to borrow from Kylar. —Jealousy (Kylar’s current jealousy: 45%)

After getting changed and cleaning up your cut, Kylar and you leave the manor. As expected, this brief outing doesn’t automatically complete your quest. You’ll have to make it permanent. His grip is tight, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You just need to escape this place. Things will get better.

They have to.

“You’re going to do whatever I want today, right?” Kylar nods with vigor. You try to smile. Your muscles don’t move. “Good.”

You take Kylar to the shopping center. It’s school, so you don’t need to worry about running into anyone. You glance at the hairdressers. He’d probably go bald if you asked him to. You almost feel the urge to giggle. Almost. -Trauma

You take him to the clothing store, picking out everything that looks expensive, ugly, or extremely diffucult to get on and off. Kylar doesn’t say anything as you browse, but a few stolen glances indicate he’s extremely nervous. -Trauma

He let go of your wrist so you could look around, opting to switch his hold to a dart gun instead. You wouldn’t make it very far if you ran now.

You hand him a pair of heeled boots to try on. He seems hesitant, so you offer to help him lace them up. He won’t be used to walking in heels, so running after you will be extremely diffucult. You’ll be sure to triple-knot the laces so he can’t undo them easily. -Stress

Kylar watches you as you kneel by his feet, a slight hunger in his eyes. +Lust +Stress

You suppress the urge to shiver. You finish getting him in the shoes and stand up quickly. Kylar struggles to remain balanced and has to hold onto you for support. His dart gun has been put back in his bag so he can better cling to you.

You help him into a corset next, making sure to lace it much, much, much tighter than it needs to be. Kylar looks back at you pleadingly a couple of times, but you just show him your neck in response, and his gaze returns to the ground. +Lust

Running will be even harder. -Stress

You bring him an open-shoulder lolita dress next, simply because it looks difficult to get on and off.

“I don’t need to help you get this one on,” you say, pushing Kylar into the changing room before he can protest, watching blankly as he lands on his butt. You close the curtain and wait until you hear the rustling of clothes before sneaking away, planning to switch to running as soon as you’re out the door. Unfortunately, Kylar seems to have been watching your feet, as he speaks up as soon as you move away from the curtain.

“M-My love? Where are you going?”

“Just pacing,” you say. +Jealousy

“St-stay where I can see you.”

You run. +++Jealousy

You hear scrambling and falling from the curtain, as well as the sound of the curtain rod crashing to the ground. You don’t look back, but it wouldn’t have mattered if you did.

A sharp pain hits you right in the back of your thigh. —Control

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency —Status It is Tuesday, the 14th of September, 2022. It has been 11 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You feel refreshed Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 4 days to escape.

Kylar is already sitting across from you by the time you wake up, sketching something in his notepad.

…You should try to get on his good side again, though you can barely bring yourself to care. Right now, you’re operating out of sheer will alone.

“Can I see?” Kylar glances up at you but doesn’t say anything. He goes back to sketching. You try to smile. You feel your lips quirk, but you’re not sure if its upwards. “Do you have a favorite color to use while drawing?” You ask, sneaking a glance towards the status floating next to him. (Jealousy: 99%) Kylar glances at you but continues his silence.

“Maybe you can use something with my favorite color sometime. Do they call those monochromatics? When are there different shades of one color? Or does it have to be the same shade?” You thought asking about his interests might make him pipe up and let his guard down, but he seems hellbent on wasting your breath.

“I don’t know if you know my favorite color, actually. I’m not sure if anyone does, actually. It changed a while ago, and I don’t think it’s ever come up since.” Kylar pauses, just for a second. The idea of exclusivity always gets people, especially if it’s about something they like. “Do you want me to tell you?” Kylar nods.

“Promise to make me a picture in that color, and I will.” A look of hesitation flickers across Kylar’s face, probably wondering how you could use a piece of paper to escape him—you’ve really broken his trust, haven’t you? You may need to lay low for a few days, as much as the idea makes your skin crawl.

At last, Kylar nods, and you tell him your favorite shade of the rainbow. He gets to work on your picture right after, tearing off what he was previously working on and leaving it unfinished on the floor. You sneak a peek at it. It’s a picture of you getting strangled. +Trauma

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status It is Wednesday, the 15th of September, 2022. It has been 12 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are fatigued Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 3 days to escape.

Kylar didn’t bring you any food yesterday. You didn’t bring it up either, but now it’s hours past midnight, and your stomach is keeping you from sleep. Not having anything else to do, you use the opportunity to check on things. Primarily, you never did take a look at what Eden, Alex, or the two beastmen’s statuses ended up being. Hopefully you’ll never see them again and it won’t matter, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least curious.

First is Eden.

Eden The Hunter Eden is in town Fascination: 80% Love: 0% Devotion: 0% Jealousy: 40% Dominance: 0% Lust: 100%

Fuck. Fuck this. Seriously? This game isn’t going to give you even a moment of rest, is it? You don’t know how his jealousy got so high, but you suppose it doesn’t matter right now. You have to deal with Kylar first, and…as much as the idea makes you feel like vomiting, you’re going to need to contact Bailey.

…You move on. No need to linger.

Black Wolf The Alpha Black Wolf wants to see you again

There's not much to see on this one. You feel relieved.

Great Hawk The Terror Great Hawk wants you as his wife Fascination: 100% Love: 0% Devotion: 50% Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 90%

There isn’t much to this one, either. Honestly, it doesn’t even look that different from his usual status.

Alex The Farmhand Alex wants to start over Fascination: 80% Love: 7% Devotion: 100%* Jealousy: 0% Dominance: 0% Lust: 70% *Alex owes you an apology! You may request one favor to which he can not refuse. Devotion will return to normal after the favor has been spent.

…Huh. That’s weird. Really weird, actually. What’s his goal? Is he actually sorry?

No, if he were sorry, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place. He probably wants to use this as an excuse to get closer to you, now that his first plan has failed. Still, you might be able to leverage something useful out of this, if you play your cards right, that is. At the very least, he’s probably too busy with the farm to come hunt you down in town.

Kylar enters the room, and the textboxes fade from your attention.

You have a lot to think about, but for now, you have to play along.

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status You haven't eaten. Your physique has deteriorated slightly as a result. It is Thursday, the 16th of September, 2022. It has been 13 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are tense Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You have 2 days to escape.

Kylar finally brings in food today after two days of starvation.

“I-I’m sorry for not feeding you earlier,” he says, but doesn't offer anything in the way of excuses or explanations. You think you prefer it that way, honestly. At least he's not pretending to be anything he isn't.

At least you're the only one who has to pretend.

On second thought, maybe it would be better if he was lying to you. Maybe it'd be easier to play along, if he helped you out.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. You have the cards you've been dealt. No use in complaining.

You plaster on the biggest smile you can muster. Your lips barely curl upwards.

“It's okay,” you say. “I was bad.” Kylar seems to light up at your understanding of what he was saying implicitly. But his face then morphs into one of suspicion.

“Y-you’re lying,” he says. “You're manipulating me. You just want me to lower my guard so you can run back to him again.” You barely manage to suppress a flinch.

Kylar grasps you by the shoulders, shaking you. You don't even think, you can't think. You kiss him. ++Lust —Control –Jealousy

Kylar's eyes go wide but quickly flutter closed as his grip on you loosens into something more affectionate than constricting. He straddles you, and you pull away gently, pushing your forehead against his so he knows you aren’t rejecting him.

You feel sick. You almost can’t bring yourself to speak. But you know what you have to say, so you shove those feelings so far down that not even the devil would be able to find them. -Control

“I’m sorry for running away,” you say. “But I realized something.” You try to steady your heartbeat as Kylar seems to salivate in anticipation. -Control

“He can’t fuck me the way you can,” you say, voice shaking and almost a whisper. ”No one can.” -Control

Kylar all but jumps you.

-Control

—————————

You missed 5 lessons yesterday. ++Deliquency –Status It is Friday, the 17th of September, 2022. It has been 14 days since the game started. The game started in autumn. It is autumn. School term finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,259 Pain: You feel okay Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wide awake Stress: You are calm Trauma: You feel numb Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged You must escape by today.

“G-good evening, my love!” Kylar is dressed in a full gothic suit. His makeup is sloppy. You don’t remember how yesterday ended. You don’t want to remember.

You’re tied to a wheelchair this time, and dressed in an elaborate gothic gown lined with cloves of garlic. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t looked down. Your whole body feels numb. You won't be able to escape today. You went through all of that for nothing. Sold your pride for false hope.

“I wanted to introduce you to my parents. You have to be awake for that. You’ll be good for them, right?”

Oh, so this is how you die. You try to nod, but your neck won’t move.

“I gave you a bit of a sedative to calm you down,” Kylar explains. “I know how nervous you can get. I've been working on it for the past few days—that’s why I couldn't see you as often as I'd like.” You have no way of knowing how often he visited you. The idea of him talking to you in your sleep is something you'd rather not think about.

Kylar wheels you out the door. You wonder if it'll hurt when they rip your throat out with their teeth.

You'll find out soon enough.

Kylar’s parents look about how you expected—looming androgynous figures with milk-white skin and sharp teeth. Their baldness and smooth faces make it difficult to tell them apart, but you think one of them has a slightly thinner face. You could be imagining it, though.

“Mom, Dad, this is my fiancee,” Kylar starts. You think he might be skipping a few steps, but it’s hard to expect reason from someone who just sedated you in front of vampires. Kylar is still speaking, going on about how you met and how you fell in love (If you were recording this, it’d be some pretty damning evidence) while Kylar’s parents watch on in silence. They’re still, gaze transfixed upon you. It would be unnerving if you had the energy to care.

Without warning, one of Kylar’s parents is upon you, nearly knocking down the wheelchair but just managing to avoid it. With a claw of silver, they tear through your bonds and lift you up, running through the house to the garden, then out the garden into the forest. They don’t stop until you reach the altar, setting you down and running away.

Well, it was nice of them to let you go, but with the drugs still in your system, you’re kinda stranded. Additionally, you notice that your quest for escaping the manor hasn’t been completed yet, meaning you’re still on their property. You stare up at the sky. It’s nighttime now. You’re running out of time.

Kylar emerges from the bushes sometime later, looking disheveled.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says, approaching you. “I didn't know they would do that. You aren't hurt, are you?” You blink at him, unable to do much else. Kylar seems relieved despite your lack of response. You think you can talk now, but you don’t feel any need to.

“Let's get you back home,” he says, attempting to lift you off the altar. He fails. He tries get you to lean on him, but despite the growing feeling in your legs, you still can't walk. “I-I’ll be right back,” he says. “I'll get your chair.” You watch him go from your place on the altar. As soon as he turns his back to you, you start flexing your fingers and toes.

It’s not over until it’s over.

Your movements seem to help, as within the next few agonizing minutes, you’re able to just barely drag yourself off of the altar, crawling with your arms and legs through the forest underbrush. It’s hard going, but you’re making progress. Still, you hope your legs will regain their strength sooner rather than later.

You shimmy along the path, propelling yourself forward by your elbows and the movements of your hips. You feel sticks and leaves poke through and tear your gothic gown, trying to reach the soft skin underneath. You ignore the pain and press onwards, slowly inching towards freedom, though having no idea what direction it ought to be in.

It occurs to you as you’re crawling that you very well may be making a snail trail in your path, but you have no choice but to press onwards. You won’t find another chance.

So, you keep going. You crawl and crawl until the moon is resting just shy of the center of the sky, and you hear rustling in the distance. You still, hoping it’s just a stray wolf or fox. Hoping that it’s not looking for you. Hoping that even if it is, it’s not Kylar that’s looking.

The rustling stops, and you think you have enough strength in your legs to sit on your knees, so you peek up from behind a bush, just barely above eye level to avoid being seen.

Green eyes meet yours.

In a moment, Kylar is on top of you, screaming unintelligibly. You can make out some of the contents, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the feeling of his knife plunging into your stomach, dragging blood and viscera with it as he rips metal from flesh and plunges it down once again.

You think you’re screaming, too, but it’s hard to tell. Hard to even see anything through the blur of blood and tears running down your face, your sides. You think most of the tears aren’t even yours. You think Kylar is crying harder than you are, that his tears are painting your face as yet another sign of ownership.

You think you might be bleeding out. He must have stabbed you at least a dozen times. You can barely feel it anymore. All you feel is your blood pressure dropping into hell, that unique lightheaded sensation you only get when you’re on the verge of death. Your head is light, all earthly sensations feeling so far away, so disconnected to you.

You feel calm. Peaceful, even. It’s not how you wanted to go, but maybe you can find peace in the fact that it’s over.

Kylar has stopped stabbing you, his knife held over his head in both hands, a look of horror on his face. You smile at him softly. There’s a ribbon tied to the handle of his knife—your favorite color.

It’s the last thing you see.

Feat unlocked—The end is never the end.

—————————

#dol #degrees of lewdity #yandere degrees of lewdity #yandere x reader #male yandere #kylar the loner #bailey the caretaker #dol x reader #yandere dol #degrees of lewdity x reader

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serpent-of-hope · 4 months ago

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*Propaganda, fun facts, and owl pics under the cut

BARN OWL:

Last year's winner and our current reigning champion, the Barn Owl is back to defend their title! What makes the Barn Owl so popular? Their haunting face? Their screeching cries? Their vast range - nesting on every continent save Antarctica, vastly increasing their chance of being your local owl? Only you can say! And only you can secure the Barn Owl's victory for another year!

PYGMY OWL:

Meet the pygmy, an owl species so small that they are better called owlets! Don't underestimate these hunters, they're locked in a standing war with the songbirds - the owls swallowing the songbirds up and the songbirds retaliating by mobbing the owls in large flocks.

SNOWY OWL:

Known by many names: the polar owl, white owl, and Arctic owl among them, this is the largest North American owl by weight. Most snowy owls are barred with dark brown markings (like the one pictured here). If you see a pure white owl, it's a sure sign you've found a mature male.

EURASIAN EAGLE OWL:

Swooping in to riotous demand, behold the Eurasian Eagle Owl!

To all those mortally offended by the accidental exclusion of the Eurasian Eagle Owl last year, please accept this offering, of a link to Episode 100 of the very excellent podcast Beyond Blathers, bringing you 48 delightful minutes of Eurasian Eagle Owl facts and stories:

SAW-WHET OWL:

The most common owl in North American forests, the saw-whet owl calls through the evening skies with a high-pitched call like a saw being sharpened on a whet stone - hence the name.

SPECTACLED OWL:

The smart-looking Spectacled Owl makes its home in mature rainforest, though they have been known to venture into the desert for food. You'll know these owls by sight, thanks to their distinctive mask, and by sound, making a vibrating call like someone shaking a thin sheet of metal.

SCREECH OWL:

As the name suggests, you'll hear these owls before you see them, and you might think you're being haunted if you do! You might also be able to track them by their owl pellets - regurgitated packets of undigestable bones, fur, and feathers - littered around their nesting sites.

BARRED OWL:

You'll know Barred Owls when you hear them, calling "Who cooks for you? Who? Who? Who cooks for you?" through the dark of night. Compared to other owls, Barred Owls don't migrate. Fossils of this bird dating back 11,000 years have been found in Ontario

GREAT HORNED OWL:

Also called a tiger owl, a winged tiger, or a tiger of the air, these birds are fierce predators, capable of besting other raptors - including the barred owl. They are so strong, that it takes 28lbs of force to open their claws.

BURROWING OWL:

As the name suggests, these owls prefer nesting in the abandoned burrows of other underground-dwelling animals to roosting in the trees! though their nests may be pre-owned, these owls have been known to decorate with bottle caps and bits of foil or paper. By the same grounded preference, you're more likely to spot one running after its prey than flying, making good use of their long legs.

LONG-EARED OWL:

With a permanent expression of someone who just caught got doing something they're not supposed to, these owls are indeed sneaks, opting to claim nests built by others rather than constructing their own. But for all their sneaky ways, Long Eared Owls are among the friendliest, roosting in groups of up to 150 members.

BLACKISTON'S FISH OWL:

Standing at 70cm tall, the Blakiston's Fish Owl reigns in Northeast Asia as the largest living owl on earth. True to their name, they eat mostly fish and have no trouble diving from the skies in pursuit of a trout, pike, salmon.

#Spotify #superb owl #Superbowl #Superb Owl Competition #Superb Owl Competition 2025 #polls #tumblr polls #owl #owls #superbowl 2025 #wwdits #fun polls #poll

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theonottsbxtch · 19 days ago

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FALLIN' INTO YOU | OP81

an: this is apart of my very delayed 2k celly, we're closer to 3k than we are to 2k this is how late it is, anyway enjoy soft oscar <3

wc: 718

request: can I also request a song fic please? Fallin all in you by Shawn mendes, for Oscar and reader 🥹 something about early morning cuddles in bed 🫶

The morning light filtered gently through the sheer white curtains, casting a quiet golden hue across the bedroom. It was the kind of soft, early light that didn’t demand attention—just whispered its way in, warming skin and tangled sheets. The world beyond the windows was still, muted by frost and silence, the hum of life elsewhere waiting to begin. But here, in this small sanctuary wrapped in linen and hush, time had chosen to move more slowly.

Oscar stirred first, though only barely, a slow shift beneath the duvet, his arm tightening instinctively around her waist. She was tucked in against him, back to his chest, her legs tangled with his like they'd been shaped to fit there. The warmth between them, shared skin to skin, was the kind that made you forget what cold even felt like.

The season had finally let go of its grip on him. No long flights, no garage calls, no adrenaline slicing through his thoughts. Just quiet. Just her.

She made a soft sound, half-asleep, the kind that made his heart slow in a way the track never could. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck, breathing in the scent of sleep and skin, letting it fill every place the noise used to be. His fingertips traced slow circles over her stomach, gentle and unthinking, a rhythm born of knowing exactly where she was without needing to look.

“Mmm,” she murmured, her voice all morning gravel and warmth, “what time is it?”

“Too early to matter,” Oscar whispered back, brushing his lips against her shoulder. “Stay.”

She smiled, he could feel it more than see it, her body curling back even closer into him. Her hand slid along his forearm, threading their fingers together where they rested against her.

“You’re warm,” she said.

“You’re mine,” he replied softly, almost surprised by the tenderness in his own voice.

He closed his eyes and let the quiet wrap around them again, slow, soft, infinite. Just a morning. Just the two of them. And for once, nothing else.

Without realising, in their comfort, the two of them fell asleep again and the next time they stirred, it was later, sunlight a little bolder now, stretching further across the duvet, warming the tops of their bare shoulders. The soft haze of half-sleep still lingered in the air, like it hadn’t quite let go of them yet.

She blinked lazily, her lashes brushing his collarbone as she shifted to face him. His eyes were already open, barely, just watching her, lids heavy, the sleep still sitting behind them.

“Mm. Morning again,” she said, voice hoarse and small.

He gave a quiet hum, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Think we might’ve broken the record for staying in bed.”

She tucked her face into his chest, laughter muffled. “Good. About time we broke something that didn’t cost millions.”

He chuckled, low, warm. “True. No engineers panicking about this one.”

There was a comfortable pause, the kind only shared by people who knew each other's silences. She let her hand drift across his side, lazy fingertips drawing circles without meaning to.

“You’re not restless?” she asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “Not missing the chaos?”

He tilted his head a little, just enough to kiss the top of hers. “Not right now. Not when I’ve got this.”

She pulled back slightly to look at him, one brow raised, sceptical in that way only she could be while still looking soft. “This being…?”

“You. Us. This duvet. Possibly your ridiculous pyjama shorts,” he said, grinning sleepily as he nudged the hem of them with his knee.

“They’re yours, actually.”

“Ah. Explains the excellent taste.”

She laughed again, this time quietly but properly, and nestled into him like she was trying to disappear into the warmth.

“You’re insufferable,” she murmured.

“Lucky you love me then, isn’t it?” he said, voice gentle, barely teasing.

“Mm. Might do.”

“Might?”

She tilted her chin up just enough to meet his mouth with hers, a slow, sleepy kiss that didn’t try to be anything more. When she pulled away, her lips were curved into a smile.

“Definitely.”

He let out a breath, half a sigh, half a laugh, and held her a little tighter.

Outside, the world could wait.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @dragonfly047 @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @sluttyharry30 @n0vazsq @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @iimplicitt @geauxharry @hzstry @oikarma @chilling-seavey@the-holy-trinity-l @idc4987 @rayaskoalaland @elieanana@bookishnerd1132@mercurymaxine @obxstiles @dongyeonssimp @gr4cier4cie

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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

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morning touches

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: 581

Warnings/tags: this is literally just fluff and waking up together, established relationship

Note: i wrote this drabble immediately after waking up in the winter sun a few weeks ago, and figured it was time to share<3

Your senses were droopy like honey, but you could vaguely make out the sound of a mumbled whine and a rumbling low laughter.

Burying your face deeper into the warmth you were surrounded by, you were determined not to let such disturbances rouse you from this peaceful sleep that held you like a hug. Minutely, you could hear a voice in the back of your head laugh at the thought because it essentially is a hug, but brushed it off for the sweet relief of darkness.

You breathed in a grateful sigh, nose filling with the comforting smell of sheets, cold morning air and him.

“Mmmm, morning dovey.”

The grumble would be music to your ears, had you not vowed to shut them off.

You were half-aware that you let out another low whine, nuzzling against the lean muscle and soft skin that provided an excellent pillow. You hoped he understood the noise as be quiet lovely boy, I am milking this sleep.

Slow, impossibly sweet kisses were pressed along your hairline, a chuckle causing soft vibrations to ripple across the skin there. “Don’t wanna wake up?” He had the decency to speak in a quiet voice, words dripping with humour and affection. Dedicated fingers moved from where they had rested between your shoulder blades for hours to slowly drift through your hair, massaging the nape of your neck.

You tightened your grip on him, a handful of the wonderfully warm skin of his side clutched between your fingers, still weak with sleep. “Mmm, please,” was all you squeaked out, vocal cords hoarse and pressed against his chest.

Remus hummed in affirmation as his other hand came up to brush along the top of your shoulders that poked out from the duvet and had grown chilly. The windows of your flat were poorly isolated and installed, which peeved you most days – but now that you could curl further and further into your personal furnace, you found you didn’t mind so much.

The kisses became more rapid and firm, scattered across your face, causing your nose to twitch ever so slightly. Another appreciative hum escaped your lovely boyfriend as he carefully tilted your head further up so he could press kisses to the tip and sides of your nose as well.

“Anything for you, dove,” he murmured against your skin. You could feel his smile against you. “You just keep on sleeping.”

“‘S a bit difficult when you’re doting on me.”

You slowly opened one eye to squint at him – any faux chagrin slipping out of reach when you saw Remus in all his beaming, bed-head, beautiful glory. You could have sworn there was a halo around him as the light caught on the messy frizz of his curls.

He kissed your eyelid that was still shut. You let the squinted one drift back closed, leaning your face more heavily against his lips.

“Do you want me to not dote on you?” he asked, teasing lamenting his low tone. He already knew the answer.

“No,” you whispered. “Please keep loving on me.” You could not help the smile that was growing on your lips and you pressed them carefully to kiss right over his heart.

“Oh, dovey.” With two fingers underneath your chin, he lifted your face back up to his and at last, he kissed your lips sweetly. “I would never stop.”

Perhaps there was one thing you wanted even more than sleep; that something would always be Remus.

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cressidagrey · 7 months ago

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Holy Ground - Chapter 3

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

The library was supposed to be a safe space. The priestesses were supposed to be sheltered there.

A place far away from the terrors of the world. A place where they could study and learn far from the grasp of those who would harm them.

But clearly today that peace had been destroyed, Rhys reflected weakly.

Merrill was dead.

Neither Cassian or Rhys had let Gwyn see the…carnage of that, Nesta and Emerie bracketing her away from…her fellow priestesses’ corpse…and Irena…

Rhys had to keep repeating the words to himself, over and over again. Like a litany, a prayer, desperately trying to make them stick.

Irena was alive. Irena would be fine.

She would be alright, even though she looked so, so pale, deathly pale in Azriel's arms.

Irena.

Irena, who Azriel had saved around two centuries ago…

Not from the horrors of the war but from her husband.

The daughter of a merchant, married off young, to one of the richest men in the midlands…she had been raised to run an estate…had excelled at it in fact. And her husband had excelled in killing young girls.

The things he had put her through... The things he had done...

Azriel, who had found her and brought her to Velaris had been shocked that she'd stayed in one piece to be honest. Rhys had been shocked too.

And once she had been in the library…she had excelled once more.

Rhys had gotten long used to see her handwriting, not long suffering Clotho’s, fill out the sheets with expenditures and acquisitions.

She had cut the fat, made sure that the House of Wind was self sufficient, thanks to research requests being able to be submitted, thanks to patents and the gardens…

Irena had been a godssend. Literally.

Rhys wasn't quite sure how they had survived before her.

But the last fucking thing he had expected was that…her and Azriel were…mates.

Rhysand had not seen that coming in a million years

But there was no question about it.

If Irena's thoughts, an utter mess of shock and pain and grief and agony...with the only thing that ran through it the whole time was her thread to Azriel wouldn't have been a dead giveaway...then it would have been Azriel's behaviour.

Azriel who had gone on his knees next to the priestess, his hands slick with her blood and had simply clung to her. He had begged her, his voice broken.

Rhys would never forget the sound of his brother's voice, the pure desperation bleeding from every single letter. Please. We haven't had enough time. I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight. Don't you dare. Open your eyes. Look at me, love. You can't go. Fight.

That look on Azriel's face as he had held her close, refusing to let go as he tried to will her back from death's clutches. The words he had kept murmuring like a prayer. A desperate mantra to the Mother, the Cauldron, anyone who would listen.

Azriel was never the most expressive of them. He rarely even showed a flicker of emotion for most things. To see him lose so much control, to beg. To see tears in his eyes. None of them had ever seen him like that before, had ever even considered the possibility of him acting like that.

He was always composed. Always calm, collected, in control. To see him on his knees next to Irena, begging her not to leave as he pressed kisses to her forehead and kept telling her to stay with him…

For a moment, it had felt like he had forgotten the others even existed. That nothing had mattered except her pulse, the slight rise and fall of her chest. The only thing that had mattered to him in that moment was that she was still with him, still alive.

She was important to him. There was no question about it.

Sometime during the last few years, that Priestess had become the Shadowsinger’s whole focus.

Sometime in the past, Irena had become Azriel's whole world.

And Rhys hadn't known. Had known nothing about this.

He could feel the guilt clawing up inside him.

Rhys had had no fucking clue this was happening, right underneath his nose.

That he had never noticed that Azriel's eyes lingered on Irena…had never noticed that Azriel sought her company…hadn’t known that Azriel had spent time with her…

Rhys hadn't known. Hadn't...hadn't even thought about it.

Azriel had pulled back from them after that catastrophic solstice and Rhys had let him. Had thought that Azriel needed to lick his wounds...that maybe then he would see it Rhysand's way...but none of this happened.

Azriel had kept his anger tightly leashed, even though Rhys had gotten a taste of it every time he badgered him. But Azriel hadn’t exploded.

Instead, he had been vicious in throwing Rhysan’ own words back into his face.

There didn’t pass one day where Rhys didn’t regret that one sentence, because Azriel was clearly… furious about it.

Azriel had grown distant...cold...unfeeling. And Rhys had badgered him and got on his nerves and figured that if Azriel would just get it out of his system… but he didn't. Didn't get angry. Didn't fight. Didn't scream...Rhys would have preferred it if he did.

What wouldn't he give to have that old Azriel back, the one who actually got mad? Who didn't just accept everything with a nod and a word of acknowledgment. Who talked to Rhysand, who told him when he'd done something wrong. Who fought with him if he went too far, who made his opinion known. Who told him to his face when he was being an arrogant prick, who didn't just accept his commands with a quiet nod.

But now it made sense. Azriel hadn't fucking cared what Rhys did, what any of the did, because his priorities had been rearranged completely. As long as he could get home to his priestess...he hadn't cared.

He did all the missions Rhys had for him and then went home to the House of Wind and found one quiet corner or another to romance his mate, out of the view from everybody else.

And that was the worst part. That Rhys had been such a prick to Azriel, so wrapped up in his own worries, his own fears, that he hadn't even noticed that something had shifted so fundamentally in his brother. Had pushed him so far away.

Rhys had thought that they were simply…in a rought spot. That in a few years, Azriel would be over Elain and it would be done. But now Rhys realised that…that it wasn’t about Elain. Not really.

Rhys had never realized how deep this was, how close to the breaking point he'd taken his brother.

Deep enough that the fact that Azriel had found his mate...that was something that Azriel didn't share with any of them. Something that happy... Azriel had just kept silent.

Azriel hadn’t trusted them with the most treasured and precious thing in his life.

And that hurt. Hurt more than he could put into words.

That Azriel had found the one person who he was destined for, the only one who was perfect for him in the entire world. The one person who would love and cherish him, who would complete him, who would accept him as he was, who would understand him...and he hadn't told Rhys. Hadn't told any of them.

Azriel hadn't told anyone that he had found his mate.

Had kept that to himself for who knew how long. Just how long had it been? When had he figured out they were mated?

“Bring her to her room,” Madja said at the moment. And Rhys watched as seemingly some colour went back into Irena's cheeks, her eyes closed, her breathing still laboured…her mind filled with Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. and Safe, Safe, Safe.

“My room,” Azriel corrected, his voice fierce. The mating instincts must have gone completely haywire at that very moment, not soothed at all, even when he had pressed a kiss against her forehead moments before.

.“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply, staring at Azriel, then at still, quiet Irena. She seemed to be utterly shell-shocked, not that Rhys could fault her.

"Gwyn," Rhys said carefully. It was best if none of them...interfered right now. This was between Azriel and his mate.

"Az, how long have the two of you..." Cassian asked, clearly having come to the same conclusion, but Rhys interrupted him. *Leave him be,* he warned their brother.

*Leave him be?! I had no idea that he and Irena are...whatever the fuck they are!*

“Two years. She’s my mate,” Azriel answered, not even looking at any of them, completely concentrated on said mate.

"Mate," Irena agreed weakly. "Mine."

"Yours," Azriel agreed, his voice hoarse, as he picked her up carefully like his mate was made out of spun glass. "Let's tuck you into bed, Love," he told her softly.

And off his spymaster went carrying the priestess that was his mate.

Rhys could just stare after them.

"Did you know?" Cassian demanded sharply.

"I had absolutely no fucking clue," Rhys admitted weakly.

He felt the guilt swirling inside him, deep and bitter and vicious. He should have known. He should have realized and supported Azriel.

But it had been Rhys who had pushed him so far away that he hadn't told him. That he didn't even think that he could tell Rhys that he had found his mate.

And it hurt. Gods, it hurt. To know that Azriel had kept something that he should have been so happy about to himself just so he wouldn't have to deal with Rhys's bullshit.

Cassian started barking orders...About a stretcher and about Merrill's body...It would be taken away and prepared for the last rites.

It wasn't often that one of the priestesses died. It wasn't...They were safe here. They were supposed to be safe here...but whatever happened in this room…

“What even happened?” Rhys asked, as he turned around to surview the carnage.

It was bad. Really bad.

“Irena went to talk to Merill, because Merrill got…angry with one of the newer acolytes…” Gwyn said, her voice shaky. “Merrill was in a bad mood because Irena forbid her newest research project.”

Her newest research project? It was well known that Merrill was brilliant. So for Irena to…

"Why did she forbid it?" Rhys asked curiously.

"It involved some form of spell crafting. Irena wanted Merrill to have supervision from a spellcrafter, because it was a language that none of us actually understood and we didn’t eve know about what kind of spell it was…Merill didn't think that was needed," Gwyn said weakly, wiping away tears. "And now look where that got us. God, how could Merrill be this stupid?"

"It wasn't stupidity, it was probably arrogance," Cassian said with a sigh. "It's dumb luck that only...that only Irena got hurt.

Rhys couldn't but agree with Cassian's assessment. It was a miracle that Irena was alive. That she'd survived when Merrill’s body was…near unrecognisable….clearly it had been closer to whatever had blown up in their faces

Merrill had probably thought she knew what she was doing, but she didn't have the skill or training to work on advanced spell work. I

rena wasn’t the type of person who would deny research on a whim either. If she believed that Merrill needed supervision then Merrill had needed supervision.

Irena was clever. And cautious.

Azriel's mate was a damn good judge of character after all.

Gods, Azriel's mate. What a thought…

The spymaster and the priestess. Rhys’ near silent brother and…and gentle, caring Irena, the beating heart of the library.

Rhys would need to wrap his mind around that in private.

“I’ll seal…this room,” Rhys said quietly. So nobody could enter. And then he would probably turn Amren loose in it, to turn around every fucking stone, so that they figured out what that spell had been that had reacted like it. The last thing they needed was for the spell to have any sort of consequences that involved Irena.

"Clotho," he greeted the priestess as she arrived, inclining his head.

What happened? she demanded, holding out her usual piece of paper.

Rhys felt his stomach churn at that question.

How the hell were they supposed to tell Clotho that not only one of the priestesses had tragically died…but one of the others was currently holed up in an Illyrian warrior's room, recovering from injuries that should have killed her, and that said Illyrian warrior was said priestess's mate, so was probably not going to leave her alone anytime soon?

And that was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the absolute clusterfuck this whole situation was. There was nothing to do except to simply tell Clotho the truth and hope that she didn't have a breakdown.

"There was an...accident. Merrill is dead," he told her bluntly.

For a moment Clotho was just frozen in place. But he could tell that his words had hit her hard. That she was shocked, horrified, stunned beyond belief. HOW?!

And Rhys took a deep breath, trying to find a way to explain what had happened.

To explain how one of her charges had been killed in a room where she was supposed to be safe…How her own experimentation, her own research had killed her…

And how no one had even noticed that a priestess had been mated.

No...how the shadowsinger had mated to a Priestess and hadn't even thought to tell them because Rhys had acted like such as bastard to his brotherthat Azriel had actually thought it preferable to keep his mating bond a secret.

"Merill didn't listen when Irena turned down her research proposal," Gwyn said suddenly with a shaky voice. "Irena went to talk to her this afternoon, because Merill made Meera cry...It looks like the spell that she was taking apart went...haywire. Merill was killed in the backlash...Irena was hurt.”

Rhys just nodded. It was a reasonable explanation, even if it didn't cover everything that had gone on. At this point in time, he was almost more concerned about Clotho than anything else. The poor female looked ready to collapse.

I told Merill to keep away from that spellbook. We still don’t know what it even contained, Clotho agreed, even her handwriting looking shaky.

He could tell that she was in shock and grief. Could imagine how she must be feeling. Clotho protected the Priestesses with all she had. They were her flock. To lose one of her charges...There was no way that Clotho would not blame herself.

She was going to blame herself for something that wasn't her fault at all. And the thought made Rhys feel sick to his stomach.

Clotho had enough weight on her shoulders already, the last thing she needed was guilt over something that was not even her fault.

IRENA?! Clotho demanded sharply.

"Alive, if just barely," Rhys informed her, trying to push down his own guilt at the thought. "Madja is with her."

In the dormitory?

"No, in Azriel's room," Cassian said bluntly. "Apparently they have been mates for... two years.”

Clotho's head snapped around, facing Cassian, her eyes wide.

Nobody had seen that coming, not even one of Irena’s closest friends.

It seemed like both of them had kept it quiet. Azriel must have so badly wanted to protect his mate from…from him, that…

The thought made Rhys feel sick. Azriel would rather keep his mate a secret than reveal to Rhys that he had found her.

Than tell him that he had found his perfect match, that there was a female in this world that loved him above all others, who understood him, who supported him.

And it was all Rhys' own fault.

He didn't have any other thought. There was no other explanation. If a friend didn't trust him enough to confide in him that he had found his mate, it was because he had done something wrong. So wrong that Azriel hadn't felt like he could tell him.

She wanted to be with him? Clotho demanded.

"From the look of it, she was barely conscious, but still claimed him as hers. And Azriel certainly seemed to think that she would want to be with him," Rhys told Clotho.

And why wouldn't she? He was her mate. Her mate.

"He won't do anything to her," Cassian said fiercely. "She's his mate."

Rhys agreed with that. Of all the males in existence, Azriel was by far the least likely to do anything that Irena would not like. Hell, he wouldn't do anything that might make her even feel mildly uncomfortable. And if she told him to back off, he would give her as much space as she needed.

"Mor, whatever Clotho needs," he told his cousin, who had brought Madja there, who just inclined her head, seemingly shaken. "I'll seal of this room...we'll need to...figure out what to do with it," he said softly. "Clotho, whatever form of memorial you would like to hold...take all the time you need and then let me know."

Clotho looked at him sharply before nodding weakly. She probably wouldn't need his help when it came to something like this. She knew how to handle something like this. How to give her fallen a last farewell.

"I want to check on Irena," Gwyn said, her hands shaking as she crossed her arms.

Rhys nodded. That was fair. Of course Gwyn wanted to check on her friend. And at this point all anyone could really do was wait anyway. "Let me seal the room and then we can go," he said softly. "But I need to warn you, Azriel will be...overprotective," he told her. "Chances are, he won't let you get close to her at all."

"I don't have any doubt about that," Gwyn said dryly. "But she's my friend. I should at least be allowed to check on her."

***

He cleaned the blood of her skin...The shadows procured one of Irena's nightgowns. She didn't protest when he held her up and Madja pulled the soiled, ruined dress from her body...didn't even flinch away from his touch on her naked skin.

They had never gone further than some heated...kisses...further than his hands slipping under her nightgown and pressing against her soft skin. He had never wanted to push. Azriel had been willing to give her all the time in the world.

It had taken months until she had been ready for a hug…longer for a kiss. And he had waited. Gladly. He had gladly waited, because it was worth the wait. She was worth the wait.

Her marriage wasn't something that she was just going to get over, and Azriel was never ever going to push her for more than she willingly offered him.

He had never wanted to undress her under these circumstances. So he closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss to her head, not looking at all.

Irena didn't make a sound, didn't even really respond...just stared into the distance. He wasn't even sure she really noticed what was happening to her. Wasn't sure she even noticed Madja cleaning the wounds…cleaning thin, silver lines, scars of her past, mostly hidden by her clothing, but still visible.

This was also when they saw the rest of the wounds...and the fact that her bad leg was broken.

Madja bandaged it carefully, stuffing pillows underneath it to keep it elevated, wrapped the rest of her bruises and scrapes with a tincture.

Still, once she was clean, no more debris in her hair, her skin as clean as he could get it...and the new nightgown was fitted over her skin, he tugged her underneath the thick goose feather stuffed duvet and then the furs.

There was no resistance on Irena’s part. She just let him do as he pleased, let herself be maneuvered and tucked in with the patience of a parent settling a little girl into bed. She didn't say anything. Didn't protest at all, even when he curled his own large body around her smaller frame, even when his wings came around her, shielding her from the outside world.

But she didn't move to snuggle up to him either. Didn't reach for him, didn't try to press her body into his. Just...allowed him to pull her close and hold her as tightly as he wanted. Her body was limp and unmoving, the only emotion on her face a sort of...emptiness. A blank expression that...it was terrifying.

He wrapped his arms around her with a sigh, running a gentle hand through her hair with a sigh. He knew that she was in shock. That she had just survived something terrible, something traumatic. So it wasn't surprising that she wasn't really responsive at the moment, that her skin felt like ice to him and that she was shaking slightly, trembling…

But the instinct to comfort her, to protect her from everything that might hurt her was roaring in his chest. He couldn't pull away from her, even though he knew he should. Even though he knew he should just be thankful that he had her, that she was here, in his hands, breathing.

She felt so thin in his hands. So fragile. Like she might break if he didn't hold her close. And that feeling, the knowledge of how vulnerable his mate was, it was almost too much for him to bear.

“I have pain potions and a sleeping draught,” Madja said quietly.

Azriel felt his jaw clench at the mention of a sleeping draught. He wanted Irena to rest, needed her to sleep away some of the horrors, but there was also some instinct in him that revolted at the idea of making her vulnerable like that. That revolted at the thought of knocking his mate out when she couldn't protect herself.

“Is that alright, love?” He asked her softly.

She didn't answer. Didn't even stir. The only sign that she had heard his question at all was the way her fingers clenched more tightly in his shirt. The only outward sign that she even understood that he was there at all. That she could even hear him. "Love?" He asked again, his voice a gentle murmur. "Do you want the sleeping draught, love?"

“Sleep?” She repeated weakly.

“Sleep.” He promised her.

She simply opened her mouth in response, letting him pour it down her throat and swallowed.

He ran gentle fingers through her hair as the potion began to take effect. As her eyelids drooped and her limbs went loose and he could almost watch the tension leaving her body. He couldn't help but press a soft, tender kiss to the crown of her head.

Azriel couldn't put into words how good it felt to have her in his arms like this. To have her safe and protected and healing.

Madja left with the promise to be back soon…and as soon as she left there was a knock at the door. He didn’t want to deal with his brothers.

*We could bar the door, master,* the shadows offered.

Azriel considered that for a long moment. It was tempting. Really, really tempting to just let the shadows seal the door and tell everyone to fuck off. That they could deal with the rest of the world later and he could just focus on Irena for now.

He knew that he couldn't though. Knew that he couldn't keep the world away from Irena. For all that he would like to protect her from all the harm in this world and lock her away into the safety of his arms, he knew that he couldn't do that. And that Rhys would throw a fit if he didn't let them in immediately.

He sighed softly, his arms tightening around his mate. He didn't want to deal with his brothers right now. Didn't want to deal with Rhys lecturing him about his decisions. Didn't want the pity and understanding in Cassian's eyes, his careful kindness. He didn't want to have to hold up the strong facade when his brother pushed and pushed and pushed.

“Come in,” he said flatly.

Azriel sighed softly as the door was opened and his brothers entered, both looking at him with concern. There was something else in Rhys' eyes, something that he wasn't sure how to name. The High Lord had an indecipherable look on his face as he moved to come stand next to the bed.

But it was Gwyn that shouldered both Rhys and Cassian out of the way, that immediately went to Irena’s bedside.

“She’s asleep,” he warned her softly. “Madja gave her a sleeping draught.”

The Valkyrie moved in silence, but Azriel could tell that she desperately wanted to reach out and touch her friend. Could tell that there was some instinct in her to touch Irena, to comfort her, that she was fighting against. He almost felt bad for her, knowing how hard it must have been to hold back that urge to offer comfort, knowing how desperately she had to want to soothe her friend's pain.

He knew that the two of them were close. That Irena was well liked by practically every priestess…That Roslin was her very best friend, but that she also got along with seemingly everybody else, including Gwyn.

And he wanted to let her get close to his mate. He really did. But the need to keep his mate safe was too strong. Was something that he couldn't fight against. So he just pulled Irena more firmly into his chest.

His only saving grace was that Gwyn seemed to understand. Didn't even try to argue with him or demand to get close to his mate. She just stayed at a respectable distance and didn't protest when he pulled Irena closer to his chest.

He could tell that she recognized his possessive nature for what it was. Just a desperate instinct to hold and protect his mate from further harm. And she didn't argue with him.

“You are the one who gets her the tea and the cookies, aren’t you?” She asked him suddenly. “I was wondering where she got them from. They were always good but the tea has definitely gotten better the last two years.”

*See, Master?!* the shadows cooed, seemingly heaving and then coming to blanket Irena in their very presence too. *We are getting her the best tea!*

They seemed very pleased with themselves.

Azriel knew that when he wasn’t in Velaris, some of the shadows even kept Irena company through the night, cuddling themselves beneath her blankets with her. He also knew that Irena loved it.

Knew better than anyone even his shadows that those moments of comfort, those little gestures, mattered more to his mate than any large gifts ever could. Irena had never cared about large gestures, about pricy gifts, didn’t care about gifts or public displays of affection.

But those little things…she loved those little things. Loved her shadows coming to spend time with her…loved it when he gave her a back rub to ease the pain in her back, or when the shadows brought her the tea that she liked or her favourite cookies.

And Azriel…he loved giving her that. He was happy to provide each and every one of them. He would do anything for her at this point. Would bring her anything that she asked for with enthusiasm. Because he loved it when her face lit up or when she smiled when he brought her something she didn't expect to get. That was something that he would never get tired of.

Azriel would never get tired of watching her face light up with happiness at the smallest of gifts that he gave her. Would never tire of feeling those little gestures bring her even a small moment of happiness. It brought him somuch joy to see her delighted by something so small. Made something inside of him fill with warmth.

“I’ll let her sleep,” Gwyn said softly. “Tell her when she’s awake that she owes us all the gossip. None of us had a clue that the two of you were seeing each other.”

Azriel inclined his head in response, a soft grin pulling at his lips despite everything. "I'll be sure to tell her." Not that he thought that there was anything to gossip about.

Gwyn left with another smile. Which left him with his brothers.

“Az.” Cassian said with a weary sigh. ”What the fuck.”

Azriel frowned sharply, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he looked at his brother. His arms tightened around Irena unconsciously, the protective instinct coming into play.

He knew Cassian, knew all too well that his brother liked to be a pain in his ass, liked to push him further than he wanted to be pushed. "I'm not in the mood for your bullshit, Cassian," he warned his brother in a low growl. "Say whatever it is that you feel the need to say, and then get out."

He knew that he probably looked completely insane. Knew that he looked like a madman clutching onto Irena with an iron grip and growling at anyone who dared get too close. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help the instincts that seemed to be pulling at every muscle in his body, couldn't stop the tension that was coiling tight as a spring.

“How long has… this been going on?“ Rhys asked delicately.

“Two years at next Starfall,“ Azriel answered flatly.

Cassian whistled softly at that. "Two years?!" He asked incredulously. "And you didn't think to tell us?"

Azriel's jaw clenched automatically at the words.

He had thought to tell them. Numerous times.

He had just never wanted to.

First he had wanted to let things settle and solidify before announcing it to his family and letting them come swarming in to analyse their relationship…Later…later he just hadn’t wanted to.

They were completely happy when nobody knew. Why change it?

Azriel knew that he probably should have anticipated this reaction. Probably should have expected his brothers to be confused and annoyed, probably should have anticipated them wanting to know more. But he just hadn't wanted to deal with the questions and inquiries and curiosity and judgement.

So he had kept his relationship with Irena a secret.

“It was none of your business,” he said simply.

Cassian stared at him, dark eyes pained. “We are your brothers,” he said quietly.

“Quite frankly, I just didn’t want to deal with whatever opinion you cook up about us,” Azriel said flatly. His brothers were way too nosy and curious for their own good. Always had been. “We are happy. I didn’t want you to ruin that.”

They would have never respected his privacy or any boundary he had tried to set up.

He knew that Cassianwas probably annoyed that he hadn’t told him about his relationship with Irena. Knew that he was probably feeling left out and...excluded. That he was hurt that Azriel had kept this from him. But he just couldn’t find it within himself to feel any sympathy at the moment. Not when his patience was already wearing thin. Not when he could still feel the fear of almost losing Irena thrumming under his skin.

He couldn’t deal with this right now. Couldn’t handle whatever pity or lecturing his brother would give him. Just wanted to hold his mate and try to keep the fear of losing her at bay.

That fear was already too much, already consuming him and threatening to swallow him whole. The only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that kept him from falling apart was the knowledge that his mate, his Irena, was safe in his arms. And he needed to focus on that if he wanted to keep it together.

“Azriel.” Rhys’ choice was choked.

Azriel stiffened at the sound, his attention flicking to his brother automatically. There was something in Rhys’ voice, some emotion in his eyes that Azriel couldn’t quite discern right now.

He had heard his brother choked or emotional or desperate before, but this was something else. This was emotion in his brother that he had never seen before: raw, unfiltered, and painful.

The tone of Rhys’ voice, the almost anguished look in his eyes had Azriel holding his breath for a moment. Had his heartbeat picking up speed as he waited for his brother to speak.

The tension was heavy and thick as he waited, his muscles coiled tight as he waited for Rhys to speak. His whole body tense like a tightly wound spring.

“I am sorry,” Rhys whispered quietly.

Azriel stiffened slightly at that, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. His muscles were still tense, still ready for a fight, but the raw apology in Rhys' words, the emotion in his voice...it surprised him.

It was unexpected. He had expected the anger and the hurt and the bitterness, not the raw emotion in his brother’s voice. Not the apology.

He almost couldn’t believe his ears, almost wanted to ask his brother to repeat himself. But he just stayed quiet instead, just tensed and listened and waited for his brother to continue speaking.

He couldn't even blink as he waited, as he hung on every slight movement or small change in expression on his brothers face. The tension was so thick, so heavy he could almost taste it. But he still didn't move an inch. Just waited, every muscle still as a statue as he watched his brother with an almost desperate intensity.

“I am sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t want to hurt you,” Rhys said quietly. “I…we would have been happy for you,” Rhys promised him fiercely.

Azriel felt his throat go dry at the words. The apology, the admission of his brother's intent to protect him, it was so unexpected that he almost couldn’t comprehend it. He felt some of the tension drain from his body, some of the tightness in his muscles loosening slightly.

Azriel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he almost couldn't hear anything else over the sound. The raw emotion in his brother's voice, the sincerity in those simple words...it was overwhelming.

“You were hurt,” Rhys said softly. “I understand. But you could have come to us any time over the last two years and told us and we would have been a happy for you,” he promised him fiercely.

"Would you have really?" Azriel asked softly. "Would you really have been happy for us and not made a problem out of nothing?"

He wanted to believe his brother, truly he did. But there was still a small part of him, the small part that had been hurt and mistreated and rejected so many times before, that was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The part of him that was looking for a catch, looking for the sign that this was just another manipulation.

He didn't want to feel this way, didn't want to look for the betrayal and rejection that had been written into his very soul. But he couldn't help it. Couldn't help the small part of him that was constantly looking for the next blow, bracing for rejection and hurt.

“We would have,” Cassian said fiercely. “You found your mate, Az.”

Azriel nodded slowly.

“How did you even hide it?” Cassian demanded, crossing his arms.

“I do know how to use a sound shield,” Azriel gave back flatly.

Cassian let out a low chuckle at that, shaking his head as he grinned. "Well, you've always been more adept at keeping secrets than I am," he teased, a sly grin pulling at his lips. “ Since when do you sleep surrounded by furs by the way?” Cassian muttered.

“Irena gets cold,” he said simply.

“Wait, she spend the nights here with you?” Cassian suddenly realised.

"None of your business," Azriel replied flatly, not even trying to hide his annoyance with the nosy question. "Just focus on keeping your own mate happy, brother."

“How do you even sneak her up here?!”

"None of your business," Azriel repeated flatly. "My relationship with my mate is my own business, not yours."

He knew that he was being stubborn, that he was probably being unreasonable right now. But he couldn't help it. His emotions were too raw, too overwhelming for him to handle the intrusion into his personal life. He just wanted to focus on Irena and making sure she was okay, not on his brother's questions and prodding into the details of his relationship.

It was none of their business how he and Irena spent their time together, how they snuck around the house without being caught. That was something private, something sacred between them. And he wasn't going to share it with anyone, not even his own brothers.

He just wanted to protect that intimacy between him and his mate, wanted to keep it safely guarded from prying eyes that might not understand. He knew that his brothers cared about him, but he also knew that they could be too nosy for their own good sometimes.

“…is she aware what these furs mean?” Cassian asked him pointedly.

Was she aware that Azriel was laying claim to her with every single one of those furs that he hunted for her? Aware that he was following Illyrian tradition, regardless of how much…of how fucked up it was in many senses?

“Yes,” he said simply. Kinda. A little bit.

"So it's...serious?" Cassian asked him.

"She's my mate," he snapped back.

Cassian held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, a sheepish expression on his face.

Azriel let out a low groan, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just…leave it alone," he said tiredly. "Please. I'm not in the mood for any more questions right now."

He just wanted to be alone with Irena, wanted to hold her close and let the warmth of her body soothe his frayed nerves. He didn't want to deal with his brothers and their incessant questioning. Didn't want to talk about his relationship with Irena or how serious it was. He just wanted to be with her and that was it.

. His emotions were just too raw, too close to the surface for him to hold back. He just wanted a moment of peace, of quiet, with his mate.

He just wanted to hold her close and breathe in the scent of her skin, wanted to feel her warmth against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. He just wanted to know that she was safe, that she was still here with him. Was that really too much to ask?

He let out a long breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. He didn't want to be angry, didn't want to be frustrated. But he couldn't help it, couldn't help the surge of protective instincts that came over him every time he thought about how close he had come to losing his mate.

"If you need anything, let us know," Rhys said quietly.

Azriel stiffened at the words, his hands curling into fists at his sides automatically. He knew that Rhys was only trying to be supportive, that he was only trying to offer his help. But Azriel didn't want that. Didn't want his brother's help or sympathy. He just wanted to be left alone with his mate.

He wanted to protect her himself, to take care of her and keep her safe without his brothers' interference. He knew that Rhys only meant well, but that knowledge did nothing to calm his instincts. All he could think about was how close he had come to losing his mate, how close he had come to never seeing her again. And the thought terrified him.

It made his heart clench and his gut twist in fear and pain, his hands clenching tight as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. He didn't want to be vulnerable, didn't want to let his brothers see how much this had affected him. But he knew that it was pointless to try and hide it, that his brothers could probably see the rawness of his emotions written all over his face.

Azriel didn't try to argue with his brother, didn't try to explain himself. He just nodded.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #Holy Ground

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