#quick drawing…not bothering with mistakes

[bambiihee]

CLOSET CONFESSIONS ˒˒ 휴닝카이

⧼ 📎 ⧽ 一 pairing。 ⸝⸝ huening kai x fem!reader 𓄵 feat。beomgyu and yeonjun of tomorrow x together

genre。⋆ smut, porn with some plot, fluff, coworkers to lovers

warnings。⸝⸝ office au, coworker!kai, trapped in the closet, thunderstorms, sex in the dark, power outages, switch!kai, dirty talk, praise kink, love confessions, unprotected sex, cumshot, pull out method, breast play, handjob, monster cock!kai, mating press, missionary wc。6 . 5 k ╱ ⧼ 📋 ⧽ 一 to library。

author's notes。⸝⸝ a rewrite of an older kai fic on my old blog, holiday decorating! i rewrote it so it's readable all year around hehe~~ hope you all enjoy!! just a quick lil fic while i work on my longer wips <3 i proofread this super duper fast so please let me know if there's any mistakes!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FEEDBACK 𓇼 REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

No one had ever bothered to warn you about how difficult it was to plan an office party. Maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity when it had been presented to you; though it was awfully in your nature as a corporate kiss-ass to accept any work-related project that was offered to you. In all honesty, you agreed mostly in blind hope of impressing the higher ups, but part of you felt obligated to help when the retirement party you were asked to plan was for the woman you were hired to replace. 

“I'm sure you’ll do great,” your boss, Yeonjun, had reassured you with a not-so-comforting pat on the back. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help!”

You were terrified to ask for help. You had only begun working at TXT Bank eight weeks ago, doing entry-level grunt work filing paperwork and filling out spreadsheets. You didn’t even know most of your coworker’s names yet, and you hardly felt comfortable approaching any of them to ask for help with a completely benefit-less side quest. It might just be the new employee paranoia eating at you, but you couldn’t help but feel as if they wouldn’t be interested in helping you even if you did reach out and ask. The retiring analyst seems to have been a pretty popular staple in the office with decades of work under her belt, and you were a far cry away from the life of the party. You were young, inexperienced, and far too shy for your own good; in the short two months you’ve been employed at the bank, not once have any of your peers even attempted to engage in conversation with you aside from letting you know what you were doing wrong. Yeonjun’s personal assistant, Beomgyu, was the only person in the bank you felt even remotely comfortable being around, having known him from when you were still studying accounting in college. He was the one who got you the position in the first place, and without his mentoring and his happy-go-lucky attitude, you were sure that you would have buckled under the pressure long before now.

It’s only natural that he’s the first person you run to. Yeonjun said that there were party supplies somewhere hidden in the office… but couldn’t tell you exactly where.

“You don’t want my help, believe me,” he laughs, swiveling around in his desk chair to face you. “I can’t decorate worth shit. Plus, Why don’t you go and ask Kai? He probably knows where everything is in this place. You and I both know he’ll say yes— hell, you could ask him to jump from the tenth floor and he’d do it. He’s obsessed with you.”

Playing quietly on Beomgyu’s computer was the early morning news, the strong voice of the weatherman drawing your brief attention. “Record-breaking storms are forecasted to hit the metropolitan area later this afternoon—”

“He’s not obsessed.” You retort weakly, rolling your eyes to counteract the immediate flush that rises on your cheeks. “He’s just a nice guy.”

“Sure, buying you coffee and lunch, following you around like a lost puppy, and offering to walk you to your car every night is just being nice.”

“I asked him to the first time! The parking garage gets so scary when it’s dark out…”

Huening Kai worked in the banks I.T. department, imprisoned down in the basement like tie-wearing goblins. Even then you saw him nearly every single day, the poor boy constantly running up and down the stairs whenever he was called; and everyone asked for Kai when they needed help, because he was just too sweet and polite to refuse. He was the only stranger to welcome you warmly when you first began, offering his unyielding assistance with a handsome crooked smile. He was a godsend those first few weeks, because the outdated software the bank still used went so far over your head it made you dizzy. You still haven’t gotten quite the hang of it, but that was probably because you found it extremely difficult to focus on what Kai was trying to teach you when he was leaning over your shoulder and murmuring in your ear so closely and intimately with that gentle voice of his. You only felt dizzier in his presence, so nothing he said ever stuck… though that worked just fine for you, because that meant you could keep asking for his help.

Beomgyu’s sworn up and down since your first day that Kai has a thing for you. You’re pretty sure he’s just that friendly and kind with everybody. 

As much as you hate it when Beomgyu’s right, Kai absolutely would help you out if you asked him to. You feel guilty for hogging up all of his time, as busy as he is even when he isn’t acting as everyone’s personal errand boy, but if Beomgyu won’t help you, he’s the only other person you’re willing to ask. When you see him again around noon, offering you half of his sandwich with bright eyes and that smile that never fails to give you butterflies, you ask him meekly if he’d be willing to help you find some supplies and decorations for the senior analyst’s retirement party. 

He accepts a little more enthusiastically than you anticipated he would. “There’s a storage closet in the basement that has some of the decorations we used for last year’s Christmas party. I can show it to you later if you’d like! It’ll have to be after everyone goes home, though. I’m technically not allowed to go rooting through storage.”

“There’s supposed to be a storm tonight,” you recall from the news earlier, “Maybe Yeonjun’ll let everyone go home early if it starts pouring. We could stay behind then?”

“Oh, that’s sneaky.” Kai giggles. “Sounds like a plan to me!”

Your heart raced the rest of the day. All you were doing was going through some old dusty decorations, so why were you getting butterflies as if Kai had asked you out on a date? It’s impossible to focus on any of your tasks, your eyes constantly darting between the clock and the gathering of grey clouds over the horizon. By three, the entire sky was taken over by them, dark and ominous, blocking out the sun and swathing the entire city in a foreboding darkness. A light sprinkling of rain at four quickly turns into a torrential downpour, raindrops pounding against the roof and the wind picking up until it’s shaking the windows. Yeonjun starts sending people home early at five, and by six the entire office was empty except for you and a few other hardworking stragglers. 

As much as it pains you to lie to your boss, it has to be done; when it’s your turn to be sent home, you tell Yeonjun that you have extra statements to go through that you want to be done with before you leave. You even make a show out of packing up your purse in front of him, going extra slow because Yeonjun always wanted to stay and chat. Thankfully, he leaves the office himself without much fuss, but only after reminding you twice to drive safely and jokingly warning you about getting out before the building collapses over your head. A little unfair for the poor security guards who had to stay overnight anyway, you think. 

“Of course, sir, thank you. Have a good night.” you reply to Yeonjun’s retreating back with a tight smile, praying to whatever deity would listen that you don’t look as guilty as you feel. 

Once you hear the front doors close shut behind him, you shoot up out of your desk and hightail it to the basement. You find Kai waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, grinning excitedly and waving with his bag slung over his shoulder. “It shouldn’t take us very long,” he says, turning and beckoning you with one of his large hands to follow him, “The closet’s pretty small. I want to get us both out of here before the storm gets even worse. Don’t like the thought of you driving in this weather as it is, but I also want to get you stuck in here all night waiting for it to blow over.”

You’re touched by his words, even if you wouldn’t really mind it if you ended up hunkered down in the basement with him overnight. He ushers you down a dimly lit hallway, long and narrow with identical little cubicle-like offices flanking both walls. Even with the offices empty, the cramped atmosphere made you feel tense and claustrophobic; something about the dark, empty windows and the uncanny silence gave you the creeps. Kai doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, however, hands in his pockets and his head held high as he leads you to the very end of the hallway, stopping at a scuffed, unmarked wooden door. A keypad affixed to the adjacent wall blinks brightly in the dark.

“Is this the storage closet you were talking about?” You ask, eyeing the door oddly. “It doesn’t look like a closet at all. Why’s it got a keypad?”

“It used to be a server room, I think. Long before I started working here. The old equipment is all still there.” Kai responds airily, plugging in the code for the keypad. “Now it’s just used to store stuff we don’t need. Only my department has access to it, though; expensive computers and whatnot. After last year’s Christmas party I helped put away everything, and I stored it all in here ‘cos I was too lazy to carry it to the attic.”

“We have an attic?”

“...Yes and no. There’s nothing up there that you want.” The keypad beeps and the little blinking red light turns green. Kai pulls the door open and gestures for you to step inside. 

There’s no windows in the old server room, you quickly realize; when the door swings shut behind the two of you, you’re plunged into complete blackness. You search blindly in the dark for the light switch, but Kai locates it with ease, switching it on with a soft click and flooding your senses with blinding fluorescent light. You have to blink hard a couple of times to adjust, your eyes squinting and watering as they slowly acclimate and take in your surroundings. Against each wall countless boxes are stacked up nearly to the ceiling, each one filled to the brim with dusty paperwork and ancient electronics, wires spilling over the sides. You spot a line of folding chairs leaned up against a filing cabinet, a ladder and an old printer. As Kai had mentioned earlier, numerous server racks filled up the room, abandoned and far too outdated to be of any use anymore. They were pushed aside like walls of a maze, creating a rough pathway through all of the junk just wide enough for you and Kai to stand shoulder to shoulder. You swallow down the lump in your throat and place your purse on an old desk, Kai copying you close behind. 

You can still hear the storm outside, even down here. The wind howls and whips around viciously, the rain sounding like a barrage of a thousand tiny bullets.

“There should be some stuff in the back,” Huening Kai murmurs, squeezing past you to make his way through the mountains of stuff. His chest brushes against your back as he moves past, and you can feel the firm planes of his pecs through the thin material of his button down shirt. “Tablecloths and ribbons and things. I’m pretty sure I hid them all back here so I wouldn’t get in trouble.”

You laugh airily, a little too distracted to pay much attention to what he was saying. “You? In trouble? I don’t think Yeonjun has the heart.”

Kai shrugs and breaks the tape seal on a random cardboard box, peering inside for a moment before shaking his head and placing it aside. “You’d be surprised. He’s still putting on a show for the new girl— you haven’t been around long enough to see what he’s really like. By the way, how are you liking it so far? Getting the hang of things?”

You should probably be looking around yourself, but you can’t tear your eyes away from the way the muscles in his back ripple through his shirt as he digs through boxes. “I, um. I’m still figuring it out, but I’m getting better. Thank you for your help, really— I appreciate it.”

The storm grows even louder outside, to the point that it’s beginning to frighten you. You don’t think you’ve ever heard of a building caving in from just a bad thunderstorm, but Yeonjun’s joke still rings in your ears; there’s a first for everything. 

If Kai notices that you haven’t moved away from the door, he doesn’t mention it. “You don’t need to thank me! I’m happy to help, really. Don’t be afraid to ask for help anytime you need it, Y/N. All you need to do is ask— you can always count on me.” He moves on to another box, still searching in vain for those decorations. “Who’s your favorite coworker? If you have one, I mean— ah, that’s a stupid question. It’s probably Beomgyu.”

Kai’s tone changes suddenly, from bright and friendly to something darker, something you couldn’t quite place. You’ve never seen Kai sound like that before, and it vanishes as fast as it came. He looks over his shoulder at you and gives you a smile, and you’re half convinced that you made it up. 

“What do you mean?” you prod, cocking your head. 

Kai’s silent for an awkward moment, seemingly weighing the question with a bite to the inside of his cheek and a quick aversion of his eyes. “Well, he’s your friend, right? From college. And I’ve heard that you spend time together outside of work, going out to bars and whatever. And, I mean… I see you with him every day, talking with him and laughing at his jokes. I thought you were together for a while, actually, with how he’s always looking at you. With his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect hair—”

You’re not really sure how to process that. “Kai… actually, my favorite coworker is you. I thought it was obvious.”

His head spins around so fast you’re afraid it’s going to fly right off. His big brown eyes are wide in shock. “Wait, what?! Really?!”

“Yes, really.” you giggle. “I thought you knew that, silly. Beomgyu’s my friend and all, but he gets on my nerves all the time. Kind of like a kid brother, I guess. You’ve been just so sweet to me when nobody else really has, and you’ve made me feel so welcome… It really means a lot.”

Kai’s face turns an adorable shade of bright pink, from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Well. Um. Thank you, I—” he looks away sharply, lowering his head to study the boxes again. His long bangs fall to cover his eyes, shielding the emotions that swirled in their dark chocolate depths. “I’m glad you feel that way… I can’t seem to find any of these stupid decorations, I’m worried we’re not going to be able to make it out of here before the power goes—” 

Flicker.

Pop.

You’re plunged into complete and total darkness. 

“—out.”

Kai straightens up sharply, or at least you’re pretty sure he did— you can’t even see your hands inches from your face. You screw your eyes shut and you see no difference, blind to everything except the cacophonous howling of the wind. 

“Shit!” Kai curses, the first time you’ve ever heard him do so. “Hold on, I can get us out of here—”

There’s a loud crash to your right. Kai must have run into one of those server racks trying to find his way around; you can hear him cursing under his breath as he stumbles around blindly, shuffling back to you one careful step at a time. The banging and crashing gets closer and closer, until it’s far too close— you open your mouth to warn him, but Kai barrels right into you before you could get a word out. He nearly knocks you to the ground, but his outstretched arms catch you before you fall. One arm wraps itself around your waist and the other… grabs a fat fistful of your breast. 

“Sorry!” Kai yelps, and it seems he doesn’t even notice just exactly where his hands had ended up, his hands large and warm and squeezing your flesh a little too tightly. The heat from his skin seeps through the material of your blouse and bra and floods your senses, erupts a fire in your chest that rushes straight down between your legs. 

As unwelcome as the feeling is, you can’t fight it off.

“Um, Kai.” you stutter, biting your lip to keep your voice as unassuming as possible. “That’s… that’s my boob.”

Kai tears his hands away as if he were touching hot coals, and much to your dismay you find yourself instantly craving his touch again. “I’m so sorry!!” he repeats in a rush of jumbled words, his usually deep voice a couple octaves higher. You’re sure his handsome face is glowing crimson red, and distantly you wish that the lights were on so you could see it. “I–I, I didn’t mean to, I swear!” 

“I know you didn’t, don’t worry,” you reassure him, reaching out yourself to help him right himself and walk past you to the door. You can hear him pressing buttons frantically on the keypad, but the device doesn’t beep or flash any lights. He curses again and slams his fist against the wall, the loud thud echoing throughout the quiet dark room. 

“We’re stuck in here.” Kai mutters to you in dismay. 

You blanche. “What do you mean we’re stuck in here?!”

“The door automatically locks itself when it closes and the keypad is the only thing that unlocks it… and it turned off when the power went out. It’s alright though! The backup generator should turn on any minute now!” 

The two of you stand around in silence for a long, extremely awkward moment. The backup generator does not turn on. 

“Okay, or not.” Kai gripes. “That’s fine. This is fine. We’ll get out of here somehow— here, let me turn on my phone’s flashlight—” 

He rummages around in his pockets noisily before making a triumphant little giggle; you anticipate seeing the little flashlight on his cellphone turn on and finally illuminate the all-encompassing dark, but the light never comes. 

“...And my phone’s dead. Great. Just great.” 

“You really need to get better about charging that thing.” You quip sarcastically. “How many times have you asked to borrow my charger? I only bring it now because I know you’ll need it.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t— wait, really? Just for me?” 

You don’t answer, your cheeks flaring up from the confession you didn’t mean to let slide. “My phone should still have a charge.” You tell him, an attempt to change the subject. “But I left it in my purse. I think I remember where I put it… let me try and grab it.” 

Carefully, you begin to shuffle your way towards the far right corner of the room, where you’re at least partially confident that the desk was. Kai follows you closely, his hands balancing on your shoulders to keep the both of you steady. It was a fine idea at first, when the two of you were making good headway, but you didn’t get very far at all before you’re once again losing your balance.

You barely manage a few short steps before one of your kitten heels catches on something rolling around on the ground; Kai must have knocked over a few boxes on his way over to you, little plastic bulbs that feel an awful lot like Christmas ornaments, the ones that Kai had put there when he wasn’t supposed to. You trip and stumble, but you probably could have caught yourself easily if it wasn’t for Kai’s big tall body tripping and stumbling right with you. The both of you come crashing down to the floor, your sharp gasp drowned out by Kai’s loud, girly shriek right into your ear. He squishes you against the cold linoleum, his chest pressed against your back and keeping you pinned down, hips flush against your ass. You try to wriggle free, but Kai is just too heavy, completely motionless and oddly silent as he breathes quick and hard against the back of your neck. “Oh my god, Huening Kai, you oaf, get off me!” you whine, attempting in vain to push yourself up onto your knees. The movement makes your hips swivel against Kai’s own, akin to a bucking horse trying to unseat its rider, and that’s when you feel it. 

Your pencil skirt has ridden up so high that your entire ass is exposed, covered up only by your underwear and pantyhose, and you can feel every inch of Kai’s hardening dick press up against you as if there were no clothes between the two of you at all. You can feel everything, the weight and the curve of it, slotted perfectly between your asscheeks like it belonged there. The way it twitches violently in his slacks when you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers quietly, his head buried in your shoulder, voice wobbly like he was going to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” It’s just then do you register his hands on your hips, touching you so intimately, steadfast in their movements rubbing up and down your ass and thighs despite the way he was shaking like a leaf. He’s never been this close before, his body so sculpted and masculine against you. His soft plump lips ghost over the exposed skin of your collarbone and wafts of his musky cologne cloud your senses. You shouldn’t do this, you should remain professional… but you’ve wanted Huening Kai more than you’ve ever wanted any other man, since you first laid eyes on him, and having him pressed up against you so helpless and vulnerable has destroyed your control and reason. All you can think about is that Kai wanted you too, and the proof was straining against the fly of his pants begging to be freed. 

You roll your hips back against him slowly, as if not to startle him— the broken moan that falls from those kissable lips is downright obscene, whiny and desperate, shooting hot sparks of pleasure down your body to your core. 

“A-ah, did you, um— Y-you didn’t mean to d-do that, right?” Kai murmurs in a small voice. His cock grows even harder against you. 

You can’t take it anymore; in Kai’s dazed state you manage to pull yourself up from underneath him and spin around to reach out wildly in his general direction. One of your fists manages to wrap around his tie, and with a sharp tug Kai’s lips come crashing down onto yours. His lips are soft and pillowy against your own, tasting a little sweet, like the tea with milk and honey he enjoys drinking while he works. His panting breath tickles your skin, his fingers coming up to card through your hair as you both open your mouths and breathe each other in. Your bodies press together heatedly, hands roaming everywhere you could reach, groping and pushing and pulling, desperate to get closer even if it was impossible. Kai’s other hand slides down your back to cup your ass, squeezing the plush flesh between his fingers. Swathed in all this darkness, it was easy to forget that you weren’t dreaming. 

You’ve never kissed or been kissed quite like this before. 

“Does that answer your question?” You giggle when you part for air. Kai pants hotly into your mouth like a thirsty dog before descending down upon you to recapture your lips himself. 

This kiss is even more heated than the last, Kai prying your lips apart to deepen the passion with his teeth and tongue. You wish you could see, could admire the sharp tic of his jaw as he kisses you, lose yourself in his beautiful brown eyes. Bear some witness to something you had been confident would never happen. You can feel the thud of your combined heartbeats, blood rushing in your ears to drown out the storm as you both fumble with each other's clothes. Kai’s hands move to cup your tits, squeezing harshly when you slide your hand down his chest and belly to catch on his belt buckle. It’s a hassle to unfasten in the dark, but you manage to tear both his belt and fly open and fish his hot throbbing cock out of his boxers. You wrap your hand around it, so fat your fingers barely connect— Kai lets out a strangled whine as you stroke up his shaft to thumb at his tip, thick globs of precum wetting your hand. 

Kai’s hands come back to your breasts, but this time on purpose; he gropes and squeezes greedily, pressing the flesh together before letting them bounce back into place. Just one of his hands is enough to cover the entirety of your tit, your bra doing nothing to hide the way your nipples harden and beg for his attention. He pinches and rolls them between his fingers through your shirt, the sensation too much and not enough at the same time. 

“T-take it off!” he grits out against your lips, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse. “Please, gotta feel—”

An affirming hum is all he needs. He tears your blouse open with a strength you didn’t know he had, the fabric ripping loudly and the buttons popping off. Roughly he pulls your bra down just enough for your breasts to fall out, heated flesh and hard nipples pebbling in the cold air. Kai quickly warms them up with his fingers, tugging and rolling your beds between his thumbs and forefingers, the pleasure making you keen wantonly. 

“Kai! That shirt was expensive!” you complain, but you stroke his twitching cock even faster; you couldn’t find it within yourself to care much about anything that wasn’t Kai’s hands on you, and as much as you enjoyed listening to him get embarrassed you didn’t want him stopping again to apologize any more than he already has. 

“Couldn’t help it, just love your tits,” Kai groans, letting go of your nipples to grope and massage the fat mounds of your breasts. His grip gets tighter with every flick of your wrist, his breath fanning over you in short airy pants. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, it makes me insane. Running around in those tight tops and those short little skirts, I just want to— a-anh!— f-fuck you all the time!”

“Kai,” you plead, rubbing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the searing heat growing between them. 

“I wish I could see you right now,” he continues, and you jump at the sudden electric sensation of a hot wet tongue sliding against your nipple. “I could probably cum just from how hot you look— God, I’ve been wanting to do this forever.”

His plump, spit-slick lips seal themselves around your hard bud, his hands continuing to play with your chest as he sucks and nibbles. You cry out high in your throat, letting go of his twitching cock to crumple your fist in his shirt. Your pussy aches to be touched, dripping so much slick that you’re sure you’ve completely ruined your panties. Kai's fingers and mouth are better than anything you’ve ever felt before, good enough to make you cum from just this alone, you’re sure, but the cavernous hunger that’s developed within you desperately, wildly, primally demands more.

“Touch me!” you beg him, pulling him impossibly closer, right where you need him most. “Kai, please touch me!”

Kai gives your nipple one last tug between his teeth before pulling off with a pop, leaving your breasts covered in his spit and erupting in goose flesh from the frigid air. Slowly and carefully he crawls himself between your open legs, sliding his fingers underneath your bunched up skirt. He runs a fingertip down the gusset of your panties, just the ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to make you keen in delight. “You’re so wet,” he laments, sounding utterly ruined, two thick fingers rubbing your weeping pussy lips over the lace, circling your clit until you mewl, “Made a mess in your panties… Did I really make you this wet? That’s so fucking hot…”

He relinquishes his finger, and you’re not sure what you were expecting next, but it definitely wasn’t for him to grab ahold of your pantyhose and underwear and tear them from your body in one powerful yank. The nylon and lace rip like paper, the ghastly sound ringing in your ears, and Kai tosses the shredded fabric to the side along with your buttons before positioning himself to kneel between your thighs.

“I’ll do more than touch you if you’ll let me,” he whispers in your ear, running his hand up your inner thigh, leaving behind a burning trail in it’s wake, “I wanna fuck you so bad, baby, please, can I? I’ll buy you new clothes, I’ll do anything you want, just let me ruin you…”

“We don’t have a condom…” you breathe, but you widen your legs to give him more room anyway. Usually that would be a deal-breaker for you, but you’ve already done more in this closet than you would have ever even dreamed of doing. 

“I'll pull out, I promise.” Kai's voice is far too soothing for your own good, those terrible, god-sent big hands grabbing ahold of the back of your knees to expose you even further. You can hardly think at all anymore, too focused on the throbbing need swirling deep in your pussy, and how good it would feel if you would take the risk and just let go.

“Please…” is all you can manage to say, and with a delighted groan, Huening folds your legs up to rest on his shoulders and positions his weeping cock at your entrance. It feels so filthy, with your torn-up pantyhose still clinging to your legs and your heels hanging from your toes, and once again you wish that you could see just how lewd of a sight the two of you were.

Kai slides his cock up and down between your folds, getting his shaft nice and wet with your juices. His bulbous cockhead bumps deliciously against your clit before gliding back down to your entrance, pressing against the rim of your hole just enough to tease before letting up and doing it again. As hot as it is and as good as it feels, you can’t handle any teasing anymore, not when you’ve been on the edge and in need of release for this long.

“Put it in!” you cry, and you can hardly recognize your own voice. You sound so needy, so pornographic— it would be humiliating if you weren’t this far gone. “Please, please, need you s’bad, Kai, need your cock…”

Kai shushes you with an unexpectedly chaste kiss, sweet and gentle and nothing at all like the way he was thrusting himself inside of your tight wet heat like an animal. The stretch burns so good you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming, his cock longer and fatter than any you’ve ever taken before. For a delirious moment you worry that he’ll tear you in half, that he won’t fit, your walls clenching down on him like a vice as he forces his way deeper and deeper, until his tip kisses your cervix and his balls slap wetly against your ass.

“S-so big…” you slur against his skin, clawing weakly at his shoulders. Your mouth is slack and drooling and your mind was blank of everything except for how impossibly full you feel. 

“Is it too much?” Kai asks nervously, back to his sweet anxious self for a split second. “I’m so sorry, sweetie, I couldn’t stop myself, your pussy’s sucking me in—”

“Nooo! It feels so goo–o–ood!” you mewl dumbly, finding it harder and harder to string a sentence together the longer Kai’s inside of you. “Need more, Hyuka! Give it to me!” 

The innocent nickname makes him moan, and just like you wanted and pleaded for he begins to fuck you in sincere earnest. His thrusts are fast and brutal, lit by a deep, primal fire you had no idea he possessed. It knocks the wind out of you, overwhelmed in the best possible way, your mouth falling slack and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull, moaning in delight every time his cock spears your cervix.

“Deep! So f-fucking deep!” you hiccup breathlessly, surrendering yourself completely to the onslaught of red-hot pleasure. You can feel him in your belly, right under your navel, your wet little pussy squelching obscenely with every movement of Kai's hips. He finds your sweet spot with shocking ease, angling his cock to drag against that spongey bundle of nerves and make you gush. 

“Yeah?” he croons, thrusting himself inside of you impossibly harder, faster, “Feels so good, huh? Fuck, this pussy’s so fucking wet, so fucking tight— best cunt i’ve ever had, baby, feels better than I ever imagined…! Can’t let you go now, perfect girl, all for me. This perfect pussy’s all mine, you hear, no one else's!”

He recaptures your pert nipple between his lips, suckling even rougher than before; your breasts bounce to the rhythm of his thrusts, sensitive flesh jiggling in his face as he trails his teeth and tongue across the planes of your cleavage, leaving dusky love bites in his wake. He slobbers over your tits like a hungry dog, his moans and whines muffled by your nipples he takes turns slurping them up into his mouth. The pangs of pleasure from your sore nipples combined with Kai's quickening pace and filthy words tug you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, the fiery hot tsunami building deep within your belly threatening to overflow and toss you into its euphoric depths.

“God, I love you,” kai admits as he continues to babble nonsense, seemingly not noticing just what was coming out of his mouth, “I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long, needed you  so bad— my pretty girl, so beautiful, I wanna see your face when you cum. You’ve gotta look so sexy when you cum.”

Your heart clenches along with your cunt. 

There is nothing you can see, but there is plenty you can hear— Kai’s hips clapping against your ass, his beautiful broken whimpering, the slick sounds of your pussy gushing around his cock. You open your mouth to speak, voice the mounting ecstasy that built steadily in your throbbing cunt, but you can’t seem to get out anything other than shrill, pathetic cries of pleasure. Your mind was wiped completely blank, nothing but static behind your eyes, thoughts filled with nothing except the pressure in your core and how good it would feel if you let it consume you.

“I’m gonna cum!” you wail, using up all your energy into making yourself speak— Kai groans happily, his thrusts turning desperate and sloppy, speeding up to pound your sweet spot into oblivion.

“Yes! Fuck yes, cum with me, angel, come on. You can do it.” He coos into your ear, voice shaking as his body jolts and shudders above you. His hands come down to press hard on your engorged, sensitive clit, rubbing tight circles against the throbbing bud. “That’s it, make a mess, cum all over my cock!” 

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking from overwhelming pleasure as you pulsate and gush around him. You recognize distantly that you’re squirting, droplets of viscous liquid splashing all over your tummy and thighs, drenching Huening’s own as well. His own climax is triggered by the violent pulsing of your gummy walls around him, and he wrenches out his cock from your quivering pussy just milliseconds before ropes and ropes of thick, sticky cum splatters hot and wet all over your heaving tits.

“Holy fuck.” Kai whispers, unable to catch his breath. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

You just giggle weakly, trying to calm down your racing heart yourself. The two of you lay against each other in silence for a moment basking in the afterglow while you both come down from your highs. Your orgasm sucked all the life force out of you, it seemed, leaving you weak and exhausted as you lay boneless on the cold storage closet floor.

And just like that, the lights turn back on. The vents begin to whir and suck out the hot, sweaty air, but the stench of sex still lingers. You’re nearly blindsided after spending so long in the dark, screwing up your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

Kai is staring right back at you.

His dark hair is wild and sticking out in all directions, eyes blown wide and his cheeks dusted pink. His tie is half-undone and his work shirt is terribly wrinkled, drenched in what you can only assume to be your juices. His softening cock lies against his thigh, poking out from his unzipped fly, slacks just as damp and ruined as his shirt was. His chest heaves with the force of his breaths, no doubt taking in your own appearance himself. You look down just enough to see your torn clothes, your cum stained breasts and wet thighs, your smart professional outfit looking like it was ravaged by some sort of rabid animal.

“You look beautiful.” Kai whispers in rapture. 

“Um.” you respond smartly, cheeks burning. Averting your eyes you check the door; the keypad is blinking cheerfully at you, as if it had never turned off in the first place. It’s just then that you realize you can’t hear the storm anymore. The worst must have ended while you were occupied with other things.

“Do… you want to keep looking for those decorations?” Kai prods gently. You shoot him a quizzical glare.

“I want to go home.” you grumble lightheartedly. “I don’t give a damn about that stupid party anymore. I’ll just ask Yeonjun for his credit card.”

Kai smiles, that signature smile that gives you even more butterflies now than it ever did before. “That’s what I was hoping you were going to say. Does my home work for you? We can watch a movie and get takeout. Or, I mean, you don’t have to, we can just leave and go our separate ways and—”

“I’d love to.” you snicker, leaning forward to steal a kiss. “Should we take separate cars, though? It would be suspicious if we showed back up tomorrow together.”

“We’ll be sneaky about it. We’re good at that.”

©BAMBIIHEE 2025. all rights reserved.

[sauberseb]

rpf in the National Football League??

[myrleius]

love letter — iwaizumi h.

iwaizumi h. X shy fem!reader│word count: 1.9k

synopsis: You’ve had a crush on Iwaizumi for a while now and finally decided to confess through a letter. But to your surprise, he rejects it.

cw/tags: pure fluff, misunderstandings, light angst (resolved quickly)

Today was the day. 

The mirror reflected a face that wasn’t sure whether to look determined or terrified. You adjusted the collar of your uniform for the third time, smoothing its nonexistent wrinkles, then clipped a small, colorful hair clip into your hair–a small attempt at looking cute.

You sighed and stepped back, moving around to check your overall appearance. It wasn’t bad but it looked like your usual ordinary self. You were never one to obsess over your looks, looking clean and simple was usually enough. But the thought of meeting him, of him knowing who you are, made you want to put in a bit more effort. Alas, Seijoh had a strict dress code so you didn’t have much room for experimentation anyway.

Your bag caught your eye sitting on your desk. Inside, the letter waited. You had checked a million times, both night and morning, making sure it hadn’t somehow disappeared. Maybe you hoped it had so you wouldn't have to go through this. 

But no. There was no turning back now. 

You’ve thought about this for months, prepared for it for weeks. You didn’t want to throw away your efforts, and you definitely didn’t want to regret not saying anything like you’ve done with your past crushes. With a determined huff, you grabbed your bag and headed out before you could second guess yourself further.

Classes passed in a blur, your mind too busy daydreaming to focus. You rehearsed the plan in your head over and over, making sure you knew exactly what to say and what to do when you approached him. It wasn't until lunchtime that the nerves started crawling into your skin. What if this was a mistake? What if you weren’t ready? What if you messed up?

Truthfully, it wasn't about his reply (though that's a big deal too)—you were more afraid of how he’d see you after this. 

The two of you only met once at the cultural festival. You had wandered into a classroom hosting a raffle draw, unaware that claiming the prize required completing a dare. By the time you had realized it, it was too late. Your name was called and the attendant asked you to do a cute idol pose. It was simple but it didn’t mortify you any less.

You hesitated, feeling your palms grow clammy and your heart pounding against your ribs. The murmurs of the students behind you heightened into a roar of complaints in your ears, and it made you want to run off and just disappea–

“You’re overthinking it. Just go for it.”

A voice murmured behind you, steady and matter-of-fact. You turned and met the gaze of the guy next in line, his expression unreadable.

“No one’s going to remember in five minutes,” he added, hands in his pockets. “They’re too busy worrying about their own dares.”

It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but it was grounding. He spoke like it was simple, like this wasn’t something worth spiraling over. And somehow, that made it easier.

You did the pose—quick and awkward, but done. And the moment passed yet the world didn’t end. When you turned to sneak a glance at him, he wasn’t even looking anymore. That small exchange lingered in your mind long after. It wasn’t the fact that Iwaizumi had helped, it was the way he had done it that impacted you the most. No coddling, no teasing, just quiet confidence in you, like you were already capable.

And now, standing outside his classroom with your love letter behind your back, you at least wanted to leave a good impression on him as he had on you, even if he does reject your affections in the end.

Taking a deep breath, you slide the door open just enough to peek inside. A student near the door glanced at you, his brow raised in curiosity.

“Um, sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Iwaizumi-san?” you asked, shifting nervously on your feet.

The student nodded, looking around before his eyes fell on the volleyball player in the corner. “Oi, Iwaizumi!” he called and jerked his head over to you. “Someone's looking for you.”

Iwaizumi's head snapped up. The moment your eyes met, your breath hitched. He stood and walked towards you, his footsteps syncing with the pounding of your heartbeat.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone serious and stoic as ever.

You didn't answer at first, too dazed with the fact that this was really happening. Your friends had never understood why you were so smitten with Iwaizumi (even after telling them the story of how you two first met) especially when Oikawa, the team’s captain, drew all the attention. Iwaizumi wasn’t flashy or outgoing, but that was exactly what you admired about him. There was a quiet yet solid confidence in the way he carried himself, and to you, that was way more captivating.

“Uh, yeah, hi. Can I talk to you?” you managed to say once you’ve regained your composure, gaze shifting to his classmates. “Alone... if that's okay?”

Iwaizumi stared at you, his expression hard to read, before nodding. You nodded back, somehow finding comfort in mimicking his action, and began to lead him to a more secluded spot behind the school building.

Once you were sure no one else was around, you turned to face him. Little pins prick at your cheeks, a sure sign that you were already blushing furiously. You took a deep breath, it was now or never. Shutting your eyes, you held the letter out toward him. 

“I-I, uh, the reason I…” you fumbled, the script you rehearsed in your head drawing blank and you start to feel the panic set in. “Can... Can you take this for me!?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you knew you had messed up. That wasn’t how you had planned to say it at all. Your heart pounded as embarrassment washed over you. Was that too abrupt? Too demanding? Oh god, what if he thought you were rude? 

“Sorry! Oh gosh, I didn't mean it like that!” you blurted out, frantically waving your hands. “Wait. Let me start over—”

“No.”

You froze. The word had hit you harder than it should have. “I... What?”

“I won't take it,” Iwaizumi repeated, more stern this time.

You suck in a sharp breath, your fingers curling slightly at the letter that was supposed to be in his hands now. 

“But why…?” you asked, your voice coming out more quieter than you intended. You knew he didn't owe you an explanation, but asking was the only thing keeping your composure from cracking entirely.

Iwaizumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I'm not trying to be mean but you should really do this by yourself. You won't raise your chances at getting with him through me. Trust me, that jerk would be way happier receiving that love letter from you directly. Would probably inflate his already shitty ego too.”

“... What?” you asked, blinking in confusion. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asked back, just as confused.

“What do you mean by ‘giving it to him’?” Your brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Oikawa?” He said it like it was obvious. “Weren't you talking about him?”

“Oika—Of course not!” you said quickly. “I was talking about you!”

The words hung in the air, its impact resonating.

Iwaizumi's eyes widened, a blush creeping up his cheeks. You were just about to think it was cute when your mind screeched to a halt. 

Oh.

You confessed to him. 

It was roundabout, super awkward, and completely unintentional, but it was still a confession.

Your heart stuttered in horror.

“I, uh…” Iwaizumi trailed off, visibly struggling to respond. “Sorry for assuming? Most girls usually talk to me for... that.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that. You knew he wasn’t as popular as Oikawa, but somehow, the idea of Iwaizumi being overlooked made your chest tighten. “It's okay. I... kinda didn't say it clearly so I understand why you misunderstood. Sorry.”

“No! It's my fault for jumping to conclusions,” he said quickly, stepping forward as if to further insist his point–only to freeze when he realized how close he got, a deep red spreading up to his cheeks. “I-I should've heard you out more properly.”

“No, it's not your fault, Iwaizumi-san.”

“It's not yours either, er…”

“Yn,” you supplied, realizing with a quiet chuckle that you hadn't even introduced yourself.

“Yn,” he repeated and you nearly forgot how to breathe. There was something about the way he said your name that made you like it ten times more.

“It's really not your fault,” he added firmly.

“Can we just say that we're both at fault?” you offered with a hesitant smile. “Because I don't think I can blame you entirely. Or at all.”

For a second, you were worried the tension would linger, but then–

Iwaizumi laughed.

It was short and awkward, maybe sounding more of a soft snort than a laugh? Still, you found yourself drawn to it. Like it's the best thing you've heard.

Feeling a bit braver, you offered the letter toward him again, wincing slightly as you realized it was a little crumpled from how tightly you’d been holding it. “So… are you okay with taking this?”

Iwaizumi eyed the letter, his gaze lingering on the small doodles you decorated at the edges. You suddenly felt embarrassed. Was it too childish? Maybe too much?

"Y-You don't have to give me a reply now,” you added quickly. “I know it's sudden, and I don't really think I did the best job at putting my feelings out there, but I'd appreciate it if you answer me honestly after thinking about it. Even if just a little.”

Iwaizumi was quiet for a moment. Then, he smiled.

“Sure,” he said, finally taking the letter off your hands. “I'll tell you when I've made up my mind.”

You felt your shoulders sag in relief and you returned his smile with one of your own. “Thank you.”

That night, Iwaizumi sat at his desk for hours, staring at the letter. He'd read it four times already, to the point where he could anticipate the next compliment, his eyes tracing her neat handwriting once more.

It was his first time receiving something like this. He couldn't really call it a 'love letter' per se. He'd seen those before–notes littered with flowery and gushing phrases–when Oikawa received some from his fangirls. Yn’s letter wasn’t like that. It was more like a letter that said she saw him.

Sure, it was also filled with praises that inflated his ego more than they should, but the way she worded it felt more like respect rather than infatuation. It was weird. He never saw himself like she did. To him, he was just doing things normally. 

But as he read through her words, a realization settled in–maybe he really was someone worth admiring. 

To know that his kindness, passion and earnestness reached someone he hadn’t even known existed until today filled him with a quiet, humbling warmth. It was proof that even the smallest gestures could ripple through the lives of others.

He sighed and folded the letter neatly back into its envelope, the smile on his face still lingering even after hours had passed. Now, he understood why Oikawa liked the attention. It was both amazing and terrifying how a few words from someone could make him feel invincible.

Iwaizumi leaned back in his chair, glancing at the letter one last time before tucking it safely into his drawer. He wasn't sure what answer to give yn yet. They've only just met after all. 

But he was sure of one thing.

He would carry her words with him, knowing that who he was, as he is, mattered to someone.

[callalillywrites]

Allergies and Cuddles

Allergies have been kicking my butt lately. Height of that came a couple days ago when high winds really pushed around a lot of dirt and pollen. All I wanted was a nap and someone to cuddle with. Hence, the creation of this story.

Who better to cuddle up with than two super soldiers?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky) x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Summary: Steve comes home to find you curled up on the couch with Bucky, napping to reduce the affects of your allergies. Fluff and more cuddles ensue in this slice of life piece.

Warnings: Slightly worried Steve and Bucky; (over)protectiveness activated; comforting each other; teasing; established relationship; lots of fluff; Steve POV

A/N: As stated above, this story was wholly inspired and written quite quickly, so any and all mistakes are my own. Just wanted a bit of fluff to make myself feel better and this is what came out of that.

Stucky Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

A too-quiet apartment greeted Steve when he came home that evening.

When he would've called out, his enhanced hearing picked up the faintest of hums. Following it, he soon found himself upon a scene that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bucky lounged across their over-sized sofa with you laying across him, completely dead to the world. If he squinted, Steve could almost imagine the thinnest, cutest line of drool seeping from your slightly parted lips onto Bucky's shirt. One of your arms rested somewhere between yours and Bucky's body, but the one Steve could see had sneaked its way under Bucky's shirt, caging Bucky under you. No doubt you sought the warmth of his skin, something you often did when you weren't feeling well.

While you slept, Bucky had one arm draped protectively across you while the other held one of his favorite books. The book had pages threatening to leave what little binding kept them in the right place, but that never stopped Bucky from picking it up again and again. From the looks of this one, Steve would be searching out a replacement soon enough. Bucky's gaze would drift over to you every other line or so, just because he could.

The TV played some show that you'd gotten into recently, replaying one of the older episodes. The volume turned down low so it wouldn't bother your rest. Knowing you as he did, you probably had it up while you fought to stay awake, leaving Bucky to lower it once you were completely out.

Leaning against the wide opening from the hallway, Steve crossed his arms and just enjoyed the scene before him. If he had his sketchpad, he might've taken up residence in the nearby chair and sketched until he had both of you permanently down on paper, a memory no one could take from any of you. But, he didn't so he settled for mentally drawing this moment to revisit later.

"You gonna keep staring at us, or you actually gonna say something, punk?"

"Admiring the view." Steve pushed off the wall and crept closer, taking care not to disturb your slumber. "How long has she been out?"

Bucky closed his book though his attention focused solely on you for a moment. The arm holding you drew soothing patterns on your back as he mumbled, "About an hour or so. Found her trying to fall asleep at her desk in the office."

Sinking into a squat, Steve dropped a quick kiss on Bucky's forehead before turning his full attention on you. He could make out your red, slightly swollen nose as well as the puffiness that lingered around your eyes. The softest snores left you, telling him that your allergies had truly gotten the best of you.

"Her meds not working?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think she's been keeping up with them like she should. Her bottle's almost full, and it's almost a month old."

Steve's brows drew together. It wasn't a secret that your allergies could get bad, and you were usually on top of taking your medication to keep them from overwhelming you. Plus, you knew they worried about you whenever you weren't feeling up to your usual self.

"She took some before I made her lay down with me." Bucky's voice broke through Steve's thoughts. His own worry peeked through despite usually being the more level-headed of the group when it came to these matters. "Maybe it wouldn't be the worst to take her in and see if there's something a bit stronger out there. Nothing over the counter seems to help her anymore."

"I'll call Dr. Cho." Steve pushed to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "If she can't help, then she'll know who we can talk to."

"Tell her our girl didn't sleep well last night either. She tossed and turned pretty good. I'm that didn't help."

"Or you two can stop worrying and just let me sleep for a little longer," you groused, having been roused by your bladder to hear your boyfriends fretting. "It's the wind. Once it stops blasting away and blowing pollen around, I'll be back to normal."

"Sweetheart," Steve started.

Having had this conversation before, you lifted your head until your gaze could meet his. A steely determination stole over your features that had Steve stopping in his tracks.

"I'm going to be fine," your tone softened as you moved to capture Bucky's eye as well, "I promise."

"One week," Steve vowed.

You nodded, knowing he meant it. One week to get better, or they'd be taking you to the doctor. The last thing they wanted was to lose you when they'd worked so hard to rebuild their lives after having their old ones ripped away from them.

"Now, that's settled," you pushed up from your position against Bucky, "I'm going to the bathroom. Then, we're going to discuss dinner. I'm too gross to be touching food, so I'll let you two roshambo to see who's got kitchen duty tonight."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind you when Bucky turned towards Steve. His expression morphed into one of the softest looks he kept solely for his two loves. "Don't worry about it. It's my turn to cook anyway. Besides, you look like you could use some of her cuddles."

"You sure?" Steve couldn't help asking.

While the day hadn't been bad per se, it hadn't been a great one, either. So many reports had been perched on his desk first thing. All needed his immediate approval before missions could move forward. Sure, that was typically either Fury's or Hill's job, but they'd both gone on some mysterious vacation, leaving him to handle it.

Then, there'd been a small crisis or two where Tony's latest invention had gone a bit awry. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't set Banner off, transforming him into the Hulk. A quick call in to Nat had helped, but it'd taken some time for Hulk to fully retreat and allow Banner the chance to return.

To say Steve was a bit wired would be an understatement.

Bucky tapped his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure. Let her help you."

As if summoned, you stepped out of the bedroom. Your appearance looked a bit more put-together than it had when Steve first arrived home. Hair dampened and your face scrubbed. While your eyes still retained a bit of puffiness, they remained bright and alert as you closed the distance between you and Steve.

A cheeky smile flitted over your features as you asked, "Bucky lose, or did you pull rank on him?"

"He offered actually," Steve huffed, shooting you his best glare.

It had little effect as usual, but that didn't mean he didn't try now and then.

Your fingers slid between his and gently tugged him closer.

He went willingly.

His free hand dropped to your waist when you rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Your gaze roved over his features. A soft frown formed as you murmured, "You're looking a little piqued yourself. Off day?"

"Something like that, sweetheart."

A soft noise escaped you. Your hand tightened around his as you tugged him toward the couch.

"Koala or weighted blanket?"

Steve's entire being sagged at the way you so easily read him. He honestly had no clue what he'd do without you and Bucky in his life, and he really didn't want to find out.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hand out of yours so he could grip you around the waist and lift. Your arms and legs wrapped around him without hesitation, allowing him to do what he wanted most. He dropped onto the couch, his legs stretching out on the floor. His arms snuck around you to hold you as close as he possibly get you while his head sank to your shoulder.

Your fingers inched their way up his neck until they scraped against and through his hair. Soft kisses pressed into his shoulder and neck where you could reach within the cocoon of his arms.

"I'm sorry," you whispered at some point, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I'll do better about taking my allergy meds. It's just been a crazy week, and I hadn't meant to forget. It honestly didn't hit me that I had until the winds kicked up a few days ago. Please, don't worry about me."

Steve tightened his hold. "Always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. That's what you do when it's the people you love."

"Okay, that's a fair point, but I'm still going to do better. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily." You pulled back enough to meet his gaze. In the same cheeky tone as earlier, you added, "How's that?"

"Better," he murmured, shaking his head and huffing with pure affection.

You must've been satisfied because your cheekiness turned impish. "You are quite tense, Captain, and Bucky missed his workout because of me. It seems only fair after dinner that we have a special training session. Get all these kinks worked out and make sure you both stay in top physical form. What do you say?"

As if to further your suggestion, you wiggled in his lap until Steve moved his hands to grip your hips. A groan slipped past his lips when you managed to wriggle once more before he could fully keep you still.

Stealing a quick but searing kiss, Steve's grin grew. "I'd say I hope you've kept up your stretching routine, sweetheart, because it's going to be a long training session tonight. May even last until the early morning before I'm fully relaxed."

"Oh, my poor Captain," you crooned sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "We won't stop until you and Bucky are fully satisfied."

"And what about you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his jaw towards his neck, "I know I'll be properly taken care of in more ways than one tonight. My two super soldiers never let me down."

"Damn right, we don't," Bucky said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Better eat up fast because that special training starts in an hour."

Steve let you scoot out of his lap after claiming one last kiss, patting your butt as you moved towards the kitchen.

You tossed Bucky a salute, saying, "Yes, sir, Sergeant."

Steve's heart had never felt so full as he watched Bucky sweep you up, your giggles spilling out as you traded kisses with him before he sat you like the precious being you were in your spot. All three places had been set while he'd held you with the small candelabra his mother had left him burned brightly with the new candles you'd chosen a few weeks ago.

Home.

He was home.

[clourey]

kaiser detests the conundrum that has been created of his emotions.

he wants nothing more than to celebrate his team’s victory — his victory — with you. he yearns for your praise, for your kisses, yet he’s not next to you like he should be.

instead, he has found rest in a lonesome corner, keenly observing you from afar.

you laugh heartily, so engaged in your conversations with the others. actually— if kaiser were to put it more accurately, you not only engaged in the idle chatter, you indulged in it.

and it is at rare instances such as this, that kaiser begins to doubt himself. it’s almost as if he set tests for you, to gauge how much he means to you. he needs to know if you’d keep choosing him, even if he pushes you away.

so when you finally approach him, he (subtly) rejects it. he’s petty, but also equally as driven.

“regrettably, liebling,” kaiser waves his phone at you, which seems to have manifested from thin air, “i’m expecting an important call soon, why don’t you hang out with.. ness? you’ve been talking to him a lot.”

you mouth an “oh,” making quick sense of the situation.

you may not necessarily be the most perceptive person in the room, however, you’re confident in your ability to discern kaiser’s behaviour and what it means.

“you know, love,” you start, ever so discreet, “ness suggested that i spend some time with you.”

there, his brow twitched, “yeah? he wants you to spend time with you now that he’s, what, feeling guilty about taking you up to himself the entire night?”

make no mistake, kaiser is not one to be trigged easily—

“you sound mad,” you press.

“can a man not be appalled?” kaiser quickly retorts, scoffing as he crosses his arms. to hell with keeping these annoying feelings to myself.

—unless it’s you. yes, you always draw out the rawest of emotions that lay waiting in his heart.

“ness was talking to you like you’re his girlfriend, and you didn’t bother reminding him that you’re taken,” his eyes narrow, and his forehead creases, “or maybe you forgot that too, huh?”

your stupid giggles answer him, and he sighs defeatedly.

his attempt at nonchalance that was so effortlessly dislodged and replace with a tirade, was tantamount to entertainment for you. infuriating.

“you could at least tell me this, then,” kaiser clutches your wrist, pulling you closer, “am i your first choice?”

he already knows how you’ll respond by the time your hands reach to cup his cheeks, your utterances of love never failing to reassure him.

[vantedaes]

cry, cry, cry

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader tags: porn with little plot, dacryphilia (or an attempt at it at least) soft dom nanami, slight breathplay, fingering, alcohol use, body fluids mentions, unprotected sex, manhandling, slight objectivization, passing out, hair pulling, pussy spanking, slight breeding kink, reader does not talk but because of the context no because she can't. NO PROOFREAD. an: English is not my first language, there might be mistakes that would be addressed,,, someday, for now I just want this to be posted it has been sitting on my drafts like forever. Inspired by this tiktok of my lovely bbh

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!!!

!Husband Kento was not a stranger to being enraged when working overtime, however, he didn't make a habit of taking that rage home, where his lovely wife was waiting for him. Unfortunately for him, today was one of those days he couldn´t stop the bubbling wrath when returning home after insufferable overtime hours cleaning everyone´s messes.

Of course, he had sent you a text beforehand letting you know that it was for the best to allow him time to cool down before talking to him, and thankfully you've been supporting and understanding as ever telling him that he shouldn´t worry and that a glass of his favorite bourbon was already served in his study.

You knew exactly that your lovely husband had an especially rough day, you could tell by the sound of the door opening an abrasive almost like the FBI was breaking into your house, you could hear from your shared room the loud slamming of the door, so strong it made you flinch, your cat scaping your blanket running into hiding somewhere in the closet.

Closing your book you put it on your nightstand and heard how the heavy steps of your husband made their way to your home, you could listen to the rustling of his clothing and another slam of what you could guess was his suitcase, oh, he was real upset, Not long after that you hear him opening the door of his study. Standing up you got out of your shared room, you didn't want to bother him at all knowing he had to blow some steam, so you just went to the drawing room to assess the situation, with soft steps you saw how his coat was thrown under the hanger and his suitcase a few steps from the coat, open, revealing what you could only assume was red numbers and some other reports he had to deal with, you did your best to accommodate everything in its place hearing your husband going slamming things in his office.

You knew it was better to just go to sleep and wait for him to come to bed whenever he felt like it, but, you were also curious, you´d never seen him this upset, so after getting his things together you made your way silently to his study, almost on tiptoes, the door was wide open which made your little espionage easier. Only the light of his desk was on, you leaned in the doorframe like a child trying not to get busted when they know were being naughty, your breath caught into your throat when you saw him, his back to you pouring even more of the bourbon and gulping it in just one quick motion, his muscles evidently tense making him look even bigger, menacing even, his big hands gripping the glass and the movement of his throat working that burning alcohol down like it was nothing.

And dear lord, you could feel your pajama shorts getting soaked.

Your skin burned like it had caught on fire, you weren't unfamiliar with how insanely hot and attractive your husband was, but this was different, this was the first time you'd seen him, this, this enraged, his whole demeanor changing in a drastic form that you've never experimented and your eyes were glazing for just the sight, your fingers itching to help you relieve some of that tension desire building in the pit of your stomach. Your husband then sits on his chair, his strong tights expanding, and his crotch more prominent, his hair like a full mess, golden locks falling into his gorgeous face that was contorted into a hostile expression that only made you press your tights even closer to each other, you could feel yourself trembling with a raw need that was taking over every grain of your sanity.

But then in a swift motion, after struggling to take off his tie he simply opted for tearing the damn thing apart, the buttons of his shirt flying to different parts of the room, allowing his massive chest to breathe and with that sinful sight you couldn't help but gasp. Still, in reality, it was more like a pitiful whimper that was capable of getting your very angry husband´s attention to you.

The moment your eyes connected with his dark eyes you didn´t move an inch, something like fear and excitement creeping into you, like a fear of a beast that found the most helpless prey on its own lair, which was accurately what was happening.

Your husband stood up and gulped the whisky quickly, licking his lips as he addressed you.

"C´me here" His voice was raspy, like going through your whole body, it made you quiver even more, made your whole being more intoxicated.

Slowly you approached him, his eyes never leaving you for a second, and you were used to Kento´s eyes on you, his attentive and longing gaze every time he looked at you, but the way he was looking at you now was something else, like drinking the sight of you, like devouring your whole image, resembling a madman that has been starved. When you got close enough you stopped, just a few centimeters separating you, he smirked cockily his lips glazed with the bourbon, and your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol it roamed through your figure and you find yourself inhaling it, fueling even more the heat that was about to explode inside your body. Your husband looked amused at how you were paralyzed in front of him like you were asking permission to touch him, your own husband, it was ridiculous, and yet it was what his good girl knew had to do.

"Look at you, shamelessly spying on me when I perfectly told you to give me space" His hand gripped your chin with a strength that made you part your lips in surprise "Now that you got what you wanted...you´re all shaky, angel"

You wanted to answer sure, it wasn´t your nature to stay quiet, you were always quick with a comeback but just like in a trance, you were just mute and so fucking needy, he, your husband, was not a man who loses his calm like ever, one year of marriage and you've never seen him this deranged.

He could hardly blame you for how your body reacted, you yourself didn't know you could find him even hotter.

Quivering, you tried to speak "I—"

And without any kind of warning, he grabbed your waist with a strength that made you gasp in surprise, the sound of shattering glass stealing your attention for a quick second —he really threw his glass on the floor—, but as soon as you felt your frame pressed tightly at the body of Kento your mind went to a fucking blank again, contemplating how his normally hazel color eyes were totally pitch black. His arm was like an iron band around your waist and your hands posed on his big chest trying to hold onto something, his closeness making you quiver like a leaf and you could just read in his expression how much he liked all of your wretched reactions.

"Shh...it´s alright angel" he whispered hotly upon your lips "I already know what you want"

Before you could process any of his words he took you and bent you over his desk, your hips pressed against the edge of it and all of the stuff on top of it falling down, the bottle of whiskey spilling over the wood surface where your face was now pressed against wetting your cheek and lips, you were never a fan of whiskey —or any strong alcohol really—, but right now you welcomed it eagerly with your mouth hanging open when you felt the hot and rough hands of your husband stripping you off your pajama shorts, your cunt being met with the breeze of the room, soaked, you felt how your juices were already trailing your tights. You moaned pitifully, your hole clenching into nothing.

Nanami laughed in a vibrato that made your knees buckle, "Look at that, so fucking wet..." his fingers trailed your dampness pressing over your wet swollen lips gathering all the liquid before entering your entrance in a quick movement, you let out a high pitched moan at the sudden intermission "That´s right angel, you will take it"

He kept moving his fingers inside your cunt quickly while his other hand kept your head firmly pressed into his desk, the whisky fusing with your saliva as you kept loudly moaning, your body going into shambles quickly, Nanami was like a feral beast fucking you with his fingers letting out the hottest low grunts that were making your orgasm approach in a tidal wave in just mere seconds of his fingers inside you.

"Yes yes yes" you chanted in ecstasy, your legs fully trembling as your orgasm hit you with an intensity that would almost make you fall if it wasn't for the firm hand of your husband keeping you still on the surface of his desk, a loud moaning of his name leaving your mouth.

"made a mess of my fingers angel, so needy you came so fast" his fingers leaving your leaky entrance and trailing through your cunt greedily. you were panting with the aftermath of your orgasm, the whiskey now soaking the whole table and part of your hair "Filthy, filthy girl, looking like a used whore after just taking my fingers"

He roamed a chuckle, then you heard him sucking his fingers nastily, sounding richly across the room, and in a quick moment he slapped your pussy making you scream your already shaky legs buckling and almost falling to the floor only to be grabbed by your wrists and manhandled to your position on the table.

Another smack on your pussy made you yelp, "Come on now, don't act like this cunt doesn't like it rough" You felt him pressing against your ass, fully clothed, and yet you felt the big bulge twitching against your bare cunt, soaking his pants, it was unbearable to have his cock still on his pants when you wanted it so so so bad.

However, you could only mutter pathetic whimpers, so clouded and drunk on his cock that wasn't even inside you. "Stay put" Your husband demanded and you immediately went still, excitement filling your body as you heard him unfast his belt followed by his zipper and a delicious groan as his cock was fully out

You couldn't quite see but you knew he didn't take off his pants by the way you could feel the fabric on your tights and fuck, you could come just right there again.

"I believe you know I have no intend of going soft with you tonight," He remarked while tracing his cock on your swollen lips, his precum fusing with your juices "Oh, but look at you angel... so fucked up looking like you could die if I don't give you this cock"

"I—" A slap to your asscheek cut you off to a pathetic moan, and soon you felt the hard body of your husband pressing on your back to whisper in your ear.

"I don´t want to hear anything that is not those pathetic little moans you made" His hot breath against your neck had you shivering, with his hard cock nestled between your folds you could do nothing but behave, tears escaping your eyes betraying how much you wanted it, how much you need it, Nanami trailed your neck inhaling your scent like he needed it more than air, getting drunk on it and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your boiling hot skin. Despite the twitching of his cock against your folds he did nothing more than tease your skin with his hot breath on your most sensible zones, driving you into absolute madness, your hole clenching, hungry, and desperate.

His hands gripping your waist tightly, you were sure tomorrow it'll have a mark. "Nothing more than a slut for this cock hm?" he teased leaving your back, standing again he took your jaw turning your face to him, when you looked at his handsome face his eyes looked like a deep endless void of how black and dilated they were, not a trace of his usual hazel like eyes, he looked at you with ravenousness, his eyes darting through your face that was now covered in tears

His cock twitched at the sight of your whipping face, you started sobbing, your lips trembling in a way of begging him to fuck you.

"Oh fuck" He moaned leaving your jaw to tug on your hair and grabbing the base of his cock he finally directed his tip to your needy entrance, you moaned even more between tears feeling how the length of your husband's cock stretched you.

Fuuuuck, your husband was big and, oh, he did not intend to go soft with you, remember? So you should have expected when his full-length slammed into your cunt in a strong thrust, making you cry loud, your hands grabbing the edge of the table, you could feel his cock molding your insides, his veins popping through your walls and if you were already not intoxicated you surely were now.

Nanami moaned feeling your pussy tightening around him like you want to cut him off, he pulled your hair into his fist harder and looking straight at your eyes he hissed, "Put your fucking hands were they where"

Looking at him with big tearful eyes you clasped your hands together behind your back, your whole stability now depending on how your husband had your hair pulled into his fist. "Such an obedient girl... Now keep sobbing like a dumb slut while I feed you this cock"

And with that, you could only hiccup pathetically, Nanami's thrusts were erratic and fast, kissing every bit of your insides, he looked at you with a deranged look, enjoying how you were drooling and crying while taking his cock so harshly, he fucking loved it, having you go all fucking stupid on his big cock and have you reduced to a needy little thing.

"Yes, fuck—that's right, so fucking tight around me" his sloppy thrust was making you dizzy on how deep he was reaching into you, your orgasm already in the making ready to burst with the warning of being even bigger than the last one and your husband knew it completely, that smirk of his adorning his lips, with that your second orgasm erupt shaking your whole body, your husband groaned pulling on your hair harder making you stare at him while you creamed his cock and your eyes rolled, tears trailing down your face to your throat disappearing on your breasts, your husband's depraved eyes look at it and soon you had him turning you around without leaving your sloppy hole to now have you laying down the desk in a more comfortably position

A position that allowed you to look upon your very disheveled husband, through your teary and hazy eyes you could see and drink at the sight of Nanami just fucking into you like a mad man, like a fucking wild animal, his hands now gripping your jaw playing with it like you were a useless doll, his fingers entering your hot mouth pressing on your tongue while he kept pounding that fat cock into you, you whimper so cockdrunk you were about to pass out feeling his hard cock kiss your cervix every time, he was ruthless in the way he was fucking you and you were obsessed with it.

"Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so fucking good" he left your jaw and slapped your tits before rubbing your clit in a maniac rhythm that pull you out of your drowsy state and soon you were filling up another orgasm approaching, "come for me sweetheart, I know you can, fuck—do it"

His thrusts were, even more, sloppier, erratic, and quick you felt like you were about to explode, it was way too much, you were pushing the limits of your oversensitive body, but oh, how you loved it especially when you felt his hard cock stiffen even more inside you and warm cum filling your insides and soon you were cumming a third time, this time even more intense than the previous ones and your whole body shudder at the immense pleasure and the fullness of the cum inside you, your husband moans in the background of your nirvana, it was as you where losing your hold on reality and soon everything went blank.

!Husband Kento was heavily panting rolling off the immense orgasm he had, only to find his lovely wife passed out on his desk, and even though his first response was to get worried that he indeed had been too rough with you, but, the happiness on your —very fucked up— face told him everything he needed to know.

Taking his dick out of you he put himself together and took your limp body in his arms to carry you into the bathroom, somewhere along the way you regained consciousness, your pretty confused eyes looked at him and soon your cheeks turned red "Hello beautiful, I'm going to take care of you now"

Simply he assured you with a smile and a kiss to your damped forehead, you smelled like sweat and whiskey.

"..." You looked like you wanted to speak and Nanami could only chuckle affectionately at your uncertainty.

"You can speak now angel"

[cannibal-alien]

This is my first time requesting so sorry if I mess up!!

Happy 100+ you deserve it a lot!! Please never stop writing you are talented and beloved in the fandom writers space!!

Can you do 1x with ⛓️ and 🔪 maybe?

꒰ 🎉 ꒱ 100+ followers event! (closed…)

⛓️: hate at first sight.

🔪: “would they hurt, or even kill someone for you?”

💬; dwdw you didn’t mess up at all !! thank youu sooo much hehe that’s so kind & means a lot 2 me!!! ^_^ 🫶🏻 hope you enjoy dis :3 i lauv 1x4 so muc… guhh >.>

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

you were still fairly new around here, still learning the ropes with the very few killers that the spectre had managed to nab. but your curiosity outshined your common sense, and that recklessness led you right into the middle of a danger zone, placing a big fat target on your back. so when 1x4 saw you, vulnerable, out in the open, they laughed at your stupidity before quickly lunging. the daemonshank swung through the air with a sharp accuracy… but hit absolutely nothing. you were already long gone, darting straight into an empty castle. adrenaline pumped through your veins, a grin tugging at your lips. 1x4 followed suit, only a few steps behind, scowling with a growing frustration. you outsmarted him, and he despised that. every second that you remain ahead only had them more agitated. you finally ran right into a corner… typical rookie mistake. 1x4 towered over you, scarlet eyes analyzing your form with a cold judgement. but you weren’t trembling! no tears, no pleading, just pure silence. that pissed them off even more. why can’t you just show it? you weren’t that special. he wanted to rip you to shreds so you never forget that. “you fooled me once, but never again,” 1x4 growled, raising their sword above their head before bringing it down in one huge strike. again, there was absolutely nothing in front of him but his own shadow, beginning to glitch out from the sheer force of his rage. 1x4 spun around, almost fumbling their sword as they saw you dart around the corner, already creating distance. adding some salt to the wound, you gave a cheeky wave and hollered down the hall, speaking with pure mock sympathy.

“better luck next time! i’m sure you’re just having a bad day!”

1x4 grit his teeth and punched the nearest wall, creating various cracks running through the bricks as debris crumbled to the floor beneath him. one way or another, he would get you. perhaps in the next round, or maybe even a week from now, but it endlessly plagued his thoughts. he would have the revenge he deserved.

🔪: yes yes yes, a million times yes!!! 1x4 would absolutely hurt or even kill someone for you. he’s definitely quick to draw his sword, and with all that rage bubbling within him, there’s more than enough to go around. anyone bothering you? do tell. someone being selfish or disrespectful? what’s their name? 1x4 can handle it.

[c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak]

Do It For Me

Pairing: Marcus Lopez Arguello x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: After pissing off Brandy and finally getting what was coming for you. Looking for a quick way out, your eyes luckily land on the new kid. Thinking on your feet, you swoop I'm in for a little kiss to try and ward off the wolves that were on your trail.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Fake Dating'

*Gif does not belong to me

Your slightly heeled boots clicked through the hallway quickly, walking at a steady pace so as to not let on to how much worry was flooding through your body. You hadn't meant to piss off Brandy, scratch that, you hadn't meant to piss off Brandy enough that she'd get her whole cheerleading squad to go after you.

That's why you were hurridly walking down the school corridor, not even bothering to look over your shoulder as you could hear their pig-squeal-laughs as they followed. As you went you could see heads start to turn when they heard the parade of cheerleaders, their eyes only setting on you after they realised what was happening. The more heads that turned, the more you began to realise just how doomed you might be.

It was only when your eyes landed on some guy you had never seen before. He stood tall as he opened his locker, shoving something into it that vaguely looked like some teddy bear that had poorly been impaled. Your eyes quickly scanned over him, trying to put together the puzzle pieces as to who he might be.

You have never seen him before in one of your classes, which could just mean he was in the year above but you didn't think so. He seemed too fresh, unaware of what he was getting himself into to be familiar with this place.

That was when you remembered what Billy had been telling you. Some new kid was being recruited into this school. Some child killer. The orphanage killer, or something like that.

You had no idea what this killer was meant to look like. Billy had told you stories but even then he hadn't said anything about the boy's features. How could he? He had never seen him before last night or whenever it was that the green-haired boy slunk off with his skateboard and too much excitement flickering through his bones.

You couldn't help but count this as a win as you realised this was the boy who set that orphanage on fire. Never had you thought you would say those words in your head.

Changing the course of your walk, you head straight for the new kid, placing a heavy hand on the locker next to his head and staring up with a large smile. Eyes were instantly on the two of you. If someone hadn't been staring at one of the two of you before, they definitely were now.

"Look who finally decided to show up after my months of begging." You exclaim, saying the first words that come to mind to make it seem like the two of you had known each other previous to joining the school. His head snapped towards you when the slam of your hand had first sounded, face full of shock which now morphed to confusion at your words. "You could've told me you were coming."

"Do I know you?" The boy said, voice not as loud as yours. It seemed he was trying to keep his words on the down low so as to not embarrass you in case you had made a mistake. How sweet.

"Don't be silly," You laughed, your voice calming but still loud enough for any onlookers to easily hear. Lowly though, your teeth bared in a smile to try and not draw too much attention to your next words though, you say, "Just play along."

He blinked almost owlishly at you in return as if your intentions still weren't setting in. You rolled your eyes, your irises landing on the teddy bear that had in fact been stabbed in his locker, a not stuck to it. You sniffed at that. Seems like you were right.

"Oi, cunt," One of the girls--one that you had never bothered to learn the name of--yelled from not too far away, her and her pack catching up to you.

That was the only kickstart you needed to reach up and grab onto the boy's face, pulling him down so he reached your height and smashing your faces together. Your lips moved quickly, almost in sync as he finally realised what was happening.

Reaching a hand up to place on your hip, the other awkwardly hanging in the air before cupping your cheek, he angled your face up slightly so it would be easier for him to kiss you back.

You could hear the sudden stop of shoes as the group after you stopped a few feet away, watching with wide eyes as you kissed the boy's home killer. Someone whistled, probably some lowlife or one of your friends who were also lowlifes. You didn't care though, not when you heard the muttering or the laughing, not when a horde of footsteps kept walking, acting as if nothing had happened.

It was only when the bell rang did you pulled back, taking a big breath of air in as you looked up at the boy through hooded eyes. Hopefully, you didn't share any classes with him or this was going to be an awkward few hours.

"I'm Marcus," The boy says, blinking at you with a smile on his face as if he couldn't believe what just happened.

You returned his smile, grinning up at him sharply. "Hi Marcus, you just saved my arse." Slowly, you push yourself off the locker you had been leaning against, ready to go about your day as if nothing had happened. Marcus didn't seem to like the sound of that.

"What, no name?" He teased, shutting his locker and trailing after you, not caring if the storage unit was actually locked. "I did just save your arse, according to you."

"Don't you think it's a bit too early for me to give you my name?" You joked, walking down the hall without stopping or waiting for him to catch up.

"Well, you did kiss me," Marcus pointed out, grinning cheekily as he fell into step next to you. "I think that you should count for something."

"I don't kiss and tell," You said simply, leaving him to wonder for a little bit longer.

"Well, if you're not going to tell me your name," He started, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his blazer pocket. Unfolding it, he turned it around and showed it off to you. "Could you at least tell me where my next class is?"

You take one look at the piece of paper and say, "Fuck."

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"Sit down," the hero said. They doubted the villain could hear them with this absolutely diabolical beat banging in both their ears. So, they pushed the villain's chest until their nemesis was falling into the armchair and sat down on their lap, each thigh on one side of the villain's hips.

The hero could tell this amused the villain to the fullest and they could also tell it wasn't just the alcohol. They leaned forward and tried to ignore how the villain's fingers were already playing with the fabric of the hero's outfit.

"I caught you," the hero said, nearly shouted the words into the villain's ear. By now, the villain's hands were on them but the hero supposed they had started all of this with getting on top of them in the first place. They figured those hands could stay on their hips a little longer, even though the villain squeezed their hips. They nodded briskly, clearly wanting the hero to listen to them.

"I let you catch me," the villain said when the hero leaned over once more. The hero could smell the alcohol. They could feel how hot the villain was. Literally, of course. They were burning.

"Dream on, sunshine. You'll spend the rest of the night in a cell."

"Oh, nooo..." The hero looked at them and the villain was clearly having a little too much fun. Their grin was eminent. Their eyes were on the hero's lips. "You are so cruel to your lover."

"We're not lovers."

"But you kissed meee..." The villain's lips touched the hero's ear shell and the hero couldn't help but shudder. They had gone to the club (which mostly consisted of superheroes getting drunk) to get some more intel on a new villain that had appeared a week ago. They had not expected their nemesis to be here.

And they hadn't expected them to be this touchy.

Usually, both of them were rather quiet people that only communicated if absolutely necessary.

The hero knew how much of a loser that truly made them but the villain on the other hand was a much more dangerous force. Their silence was usually a weapon.

"I did that because you almost died," the hero said. "You know that."

"You did that because you like me," the villain said. The hero couldn't help but wonder if the villain's true self was close to this drunk version of them. If the villain was flirty or chatty. It was intriguing. To know this much about someone and yet, it wasn't quite enough.

The hero took in a deep breath.

"I didn't know you go clubbing."

"I don't. Clubs are good sources of information," the villain said. They let their thumbs draw soft shapes into the hero's clothes. "I was asking around because you were so busy last week."

The hero frowned.

"And then you got drunk?"

"Kind of." The villain shrugged. "Drowning my sorrows. Honest mistake."

Maybe all of this would have been easier if the hero hadn't kissed them all those months ago. They knew they thought about the villain a lot, especially when they tried to distance themselves from them. It was everything but ideal. It was distracting and it bothered the hero. They knew what they were feeling, they knew what was going on and the hero absolutely hated it.

"About that kiss..." the villain began, chuckling to themselves, but they didn't really finish since the hero was on their feet a little too quick.

"I...have some business to attend to," the hero said.

"Wait." The villain stood up - swaying a little - and grabbed their arm. The villain's tug was powerful enough for the both of them to bump into each other again. "Didn't you want to arrest me?"

"Maybe another time. Count yourself lucky," they answered. They wanted to go and push themselves through the crowd full of heroes back to the exist but the villain didn't let go.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No, no...you didn't."

"I thought you kinda liked me." Oh god, the hero couldn't do this. They couldn't...they couldn't confess in a club full of heroes and with the villain being drunk.

"I do, I...you know I like you. You know that." The hero loathed how soft their own voice could be.

"Yeah, but...shit, I gotta sit down." The villain did exactly that and the hero suspected the alcohol to do its true magic now. They knew the villain was strong enough to go home on their own, they were a villain after all, but some sense of responsibility (and desperation) kicked in.

"Come on." The hero's heartbeat was louder than the horrible pop song that was playing next. "Let's go home."

It only occurred to the hero later that they didn't know the villain's address.

Accordingly, the villain was more than confused when they woke up hungover in the hero's bed in the early morning. And the hero was even more confused when they woke up on the couch with the villain next to them, even though they had made sure the villain would stay in the hero's bed.

[admirationandromantics]

Halloween Party

Yes, this is a Josh x reader bit where Josh is dressed as a pharaoh (please imagine Rami Malek in NATM), because that's the outfit I went with. This also takes place in an au where the lodge drama never happened, so don't worry about that. Reminding everyone that my blog is 18+ and so is this post.

This was made possible by a request I got, so thank you so much and please don't stop sending in requests.

Word count: 3,3 k (unedited!)

“Sit still!” Ashley scolds as she draws my eyeliner. 

“Sorry!” I apologise, trying my best to hold my breath. Normally, I can do my own, but for tonight’s halloween party I needed a few extra details. I was dressed as no other person than Cleopatra herself. I thought about getting a wig, but Jess found some beautiful golden pearls to put in my hair instead. I loved them, feeling like royalty. I was adorned with gold, my head, hair, neck, arms and hands. A white loose dress was draped around me, leaving the midst open, so it looked like a two-piece. I loved it, even though I personally didn’t look like her, you could not mistake me for anyone else. 

“Aaaand there!” Ashley exclaims, pulling away and giving me time to breathe. She was dressed as Elizabeth Bennet. It may be hard to see if one hasn't read the book or seen any of the films, but she had put her hair up and covered it in white pearls. She was wearing a beautiful dress, though it only went a little below her thighs and not completely down. She was beautiful. I knew she’d planned on this for a long time, so I made some calls to Josh, forcing him to make Chris watch the movie. He didn’t even need to put the idea in his hand. Chris saw himself in the character, loving him and the simplicity of the costume. Yes, this was a set-up, and we made it happen. Maybe the love birds would finally take the hint and get down to business. We can only hope. 

I get up, looking at myself in the mirror. I was afraid that I would not look like myself, but that didn’t happen. I still look like me, as well as the queen. 

We make our way over to the Washington house, and it feels bigger than ever, even when it is filled to the brim with people. Ashley grabs my hand, leading me inside. We press past people, occasionally giving them a small ‘sorry’ or ‘excuse me’. Ashley knows where to go, and she’s quick to get me into the kitchen. We both make eye contact with Sam, who’s sitting on the counter, talking to a dashing-looking Chris. Ashley stops in her tracks, but I force her with me despite her protests. Luckily, she stops trashing as we get closer, probably to avoid a scene. 

“Hey guys!” I greet, finally getting up beside them. 

“Hey-” Chris starts, and his eyes flow to Ash, looking her up and down. They stand there for a while, gawking at each other, both of their faces blushed and bothered. I sit beside Sam, enjoying the show as they start asking questions. I turn to her, trying to figure out her costume. 

She’s wearing a completely black outfit, a gadget belt and beside her is a mask. She must be a spy of some sort. 

“Don’t you look pretty” she compliments, and I smile. 

“You’re quite spyci yourself” I give back, hoping she got the joke. She did, and starts laughing, hitting my arm and leaning down to the drinks. 

“Good one, want anything to drink?” 

“Please” I urge, looking around for anything. She mixes some different things, eventually handing me a red cup. I take a sip, grimaging of the strong content. 

“What is this?”

“Everything”

“You gave me everything?”

“You can’t throw it out, drink it quickly so you can’t taste it” she challenges, and I take it. I put the cup back up to my lips, taking a deep breath to get ready, before chugging it all down. The taste is awful, but the aftertaste is worse, and she quickly hands me a glass of water to get it all down. 

“I’m never taking a drink from you again” I comment. 

“Oh please, of course you’re gonna”

I look at her and she’s trying to hold in her laughter. Ashley and Chris are finally done with their talking, and walk over to us. 

“I was about to say-” Chris starts, and I hold my breath. Please don’t figure out the plan. 

“Are you coupling with Josh tonight?”

I look at him, confused. I hadn’t seen Josh tonight. Yet. 

“No? What, is he also Cleopatra or something?”

“Well no”

“Is he Caesar?” I ask, still confused. 

“Um, no”

“Then I think we’re not matching” 

“If you say so” he ends, putting his cup up to his face. I see a little smile on the edge of his lips, and when I look at Ashley, she puts her hand in front of her mouth, as if hiding something. Sam looks around, and hits my arm. 

“Well, I at least see one Greek over there” she points, and I follow her gaze. I see a guy, wearing something white with a belt and a gold olive-branch crown. He looked like one of those ancient Greek gods. And he looked really good, arms complimenting his costume perfectly. He was standing with Mike and Emily, who was wearing a couples costume. Batman and Batwoman. Fits them both quite well. 

“Hey!” Josh’s voice sounds, and I hear small snickers coming from Chris and Ashley. Sam puts her hand over her mouth, turning away so I can’t see her face. I look over, seeing Josh wearing a gorgeous pharaoh costume. He has a shoulder cape, large golden headwear and jewels. His stomach is exposed, and I can’t stop myself from looking at it, seeing the curves of what seems like vague, hidden muscles. 

He stops in his tracks, looking me up and down and pointing. 

“Copycat” he accuses in a funny tone, and I roll my eyes. 

“Are you Cleopatra?” I ask teasingly. 

“No, but… wait” he starts, his eyes glued to the gold pearls fastened in my loose hair. He turn over to Chris, pointing directly at him. 

“You planned this!” 

My eyes widen, and I look over at the culprit. 

“Hey, you can’t accuse us when you did the same!” Chris shouts back. Sam almost falls over from laughing. 

“You guys planned this?” I ask, wondering how the hell they managed that. 

“But this was my idea” both Josh and I say in unison, and we both look at each other. Everytime I look at him, my eyes wander to his neck, his exposed skin, and I can’t stop staring. Ashley is quick to answer our statement. 

“Remember that documentary I got you to watch some time ago? Well, Chris also showed Josh a movie… One thing led to another…” she trails off, and I manage to break out of my trance. 

“And your reasoning?” I continue. Sam’s still laughing, hanging onto me for dear life and drying away a tear. 

“Maybe we wanted you two to connect a little” Chris says, still proud of their accomplishment. I look over at Josh, who rolls his eyes at him. I get a slight pain in my chest. Hurt? Maybe. I’ve liked Josh for quite some time, and we’re friends, flirting friends, but he never takes the step it needs. I try to put all the signs out, and I know almost everybody knows at this point, but he still doesn’t do anything. I can’t imagine him wanting anything, as he’s never made moves other than his continuous normal flirting. Ashley has told me that he flirts differently with me, as if there’s something behind it, but I’ve never noticed. 

“Well” I start, getting off the counter. “I guess you failed” 

They all stop in their tracks, Josh looking at me surprisingly. 

“I see a Greek god over there who would probably be delighted by my presence, so I’ll bid you farewell” I point at the guy, who’s still making small talk with the others. I start walking, but Josh is quick to pull my arm, leading me a little away from the others. 

“Hey, you know, it’s just fun. Especially when you look like that” he says, whispering close to my face in quite a seductive tone. The previous alcohol is starting to make its way to my head, and I feel my cheeks redden from the closeness. Still, I feel mad. Why would they do this when he’s never made anything clear for me. For him, this is just fun, a fun coincidence and a chance to tease me, but for me, it’s humiliating. As if I’m about to show how desperate I am for him. 

“No it’s not, you’ve made it clear where you stand when it comes to me, and I’ve made my bed with it” I snap back, surprised by my own tone. His emotions switch, a mix of confusion and then, realisation. He gets it, that it’s not fun to joke about my feelings when I feel this way about him. 

“Okay, listen, this is not about that” he starts, but I put up my finger, stopping him. 

“Josh, I’m getting over you, and we can go back to normal after that, but don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be”

“No, no, no, I need you to listen to me” he says, but I get out of his grip, walking over to the guy. 

I touch his shoulder, making him turn around. The others notice, and Mike makes a whistling sound. 

“Well, hello there” I start, looking up at him through my eyelashes. He’s quite tall, and his bushy brown hair matches the gold on his head completely. He looks me up and down, staring a bit before answering. 

“Well, if it isn’t the queen herself” he murmurs in a slightly suggestive tone. 

It doesn’t take long for us to make conversation. He’s in some of Mike’s classes, and usually hang out and study together. I expected him to be kind of playboy-ish, because of his friend group, but seemed genuine and kind. I was actually kind of smitten, and it felt good to be enhanced with someone who seemed to have a genuine interest in me as well. 

The whole night we talked, danced and drank, sharing stories and talking about ourselves. As for now, we’re sitting on the sofa, his arm laid out on the cushion behind me. I turn a little, seeing Sam smiling at me, and Chris and Ashley in deep conversation. Beside them is known pharaoh leaning against the wall, cup to his face, staring intently. My cheeks automatically flush a little, and I turn back to the god beside me. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks, and I’m a little shocked by his suddenness. I smile. 

“We can go to a place which is a little more secluded” I try, giving him a teasing tone. His face lights up, and I feel something flutter in my chest. Butterflies. I take his hand, leading him through the crowd of people and up some stairs. The hallway here is empty, and he doesn’t waste time, pushing me against the wall and kissing me. I return it, but the butterflies don't grow. I feel content at best, a little excited, but not much. The sound of footsteps make both of us turn, his hands moving away from my body. Beside us stands Josh, a concerned look on his face. 

“Something has happened with Ashley, I’ll tell you everything, but you need to come with me” he says in a serious tone. My heart immediately falls, and I get scared. The guy comes forwards, whispering in my ear. 

“I’ll let you two talk, just ask Mike for my number” and he walks down again, giving a slight nod to Josh when passing. It doesn’t seem like Ashley to do something stupid, but I still take both of Josh’s hands in mine, urging him to tell me more. 

“Come on” he says, going further into the hallway, locking up the door which seems to be his room. 

“But, what about Ashley, what happened? Josh, tell me” I urge, the sinking feeling growing larger. He takes my hand, dragging me into the room, closing the door behind us. 

“You happened” he whispers, before slamming me against the door with brute force. Harder and quicker than the other guy. He goes on top of me, pins me with my hands over my head. Capturing my lips on his, he eats me up. It’s passionate, hard. My pulse shoots through the roof, and I can feel his rapid heartbeat on my chest. 

I push him off me, harshly. 

“Josh, what the hell?” I ask, body still hot and aching for his touch. 

“Ashley is okay” he answers, though not really an answer. 

“I think I got it” I snap back, like it wasn’t fucking obvious from what just happened. I continue, not bothering to wait for his explanation. 

“You flirt with me, all the time, I give you all the hints, everything. Even our friends contribute, which, for me, is fucking humiliating because you don’t do shit!” I scold. The building tension in my body finally giving out. My breath is out of order, but I can’t regulate it at this time, emotions coming over me. 

“Then, when I finally decide to move on, to take a step away, you barge in, giving me some fake excuse and take me into your room and…” I don’t know how to continue. I’ve wanted this for so long, wanted him, but not like this. I want something real, not just some jealousy-fuck which will make him feel better about himself, encouraging his complexity. 

“I don’t want this” I blurt out, but he’s still silent, standing away from me. 

“I’ve always wanted something real, a connection and a relationship. I’m not interested in a one-time-fuck with you because of your insecurity issues” I continue, feeling some type of relief wash over me. He looks in my eyes with an expression I can't decipher. Longing? Regret? Anxiety? I take hold of the door handle, making my way out when I feel his hand on my wrist. 

“Will you finally let me talk before you barge out?” he asks, a vulnerable tone to his normally flirty and funny voice. My heart breaks a little for how out of character he makes himself. I turn back to him, sitting down on his bed. He sits down beside me, not bothering to look me in the eyes. 

“I’m sorry” he starts, taking my hand in his yet again, rubbing small circles over my knuckles. 

“I’ve been scared, you know, from all of this. Walking around the bush, never actually doing anything. I thought it would just happen naturally at some point”

“It rarely does-” I try, but he stops me. 

“And seeing you finally pull out it, the situation I mean, just made me realise that we can’t keep going like this, and if I truly want something to happen, I have to take the step” 

I look down, suddenly aware that our knees are touching. 

“I don’t want to be just another fuck for you Josh”

“You could never be that” 

I look up, seeing his eyes are already on me. He made the move before, maybe it’s my time now. I lean towards him, hand cupping his cheek and kiss him. It’s light, careful, and not at all rough. He deepens it, taking my hand from his face and around his neck. He takes hold of my thighs, getting me on top of him. Both of my hands start wandering through his hair, and one his arms goes to the back of my head, pulling me in tighter. I take off his crown, surprised by the weight of it and carefully put it on the nightstand. His hands wander to my exposed waist, fingers seeping under the fabric. 

Though our breathing is heavy, it’s still safe, comforting. I manage to completely relax in his arms, thriving from his touch. He moves his lips, kissing down my jaw and on my neck. I let out involuntary sweet sighs, and can feel him smirk against my skin. He starts biting and sucking, making me moan. There’ll definitely be dark marks on me tomorrow. I feel his bulge growing underneath me, and if as on command, I start grinding on him. He loses his rhythm, interrupting his assault on my neck with whines and groans. I take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, using my fingers to untie the cape, letting it fall off his shoulders. His upper body is stunning, and I stroke my fingers over every part of him, making him whimper. I try to memorise everything, his neck with my lips and his chest and shoulders with my arms. 

“Fuck, at this pace-” he starts, but is interrupted by a moan as I cup his bulge. 

He immediately grabs hand, pulling himself off my face and staring into my eyes. There’s something dark and sinister in them, and I feel myself get wetter from just the look. He turns us around, my back hitting the mattress harshly, losing my breath. He goes over me, kissing my neck and collar while untying my dress, leaving it on the floor. The only things left are my underwear, a matching set of white cotton lace to match the costume. His eyes fill with awe as he drags his hands over, fingers glazing the edge of the cotton. 

“Fucking hell” he whispers, hands going to my back and unclasping my bra. He immediately goes for the kill, leaning over me, pressing, grinding, holding and squeezing. A gasp escapes my lips to begin with, but it is soon followed by sounds I can’t control as his knee rubs my clit. 

“Josh I-” I begin, my warmth building up, getting all flustered and hot. 

“God, you’re beautiful” he whispers, leaving sweet kisses on my neck. He stands up, and the sudden lack of his warmth gets to me. I sit up on the bed, watching as he painfully slowly takes off his garments. It falls to his feet, leaving a sight of his bare naked body. I bite my bottom lip, seeing how huge he is. 

“You’re not wearing underwear” I say, a bit shocked and surprised. 

“Gotta stay true to the character, no?” he teases, leaning over me once again. His lips find mine as his cock rubs gently over my folds, coating itself in my spilled juices. 

“Do you want this?” he whispers against my ear, his hot breath going down my neck. 

“Yes Josh” 

“Tell me how much you want it”

“Please, I need you” 

I feel him push himself into me, filling me up and exhaling. 

“I love it when you beg for me” 

His praise goes straight to the core, and I moan out as he starts moving inside me. He leans on his arms, one going down to rub my clit, making me throw my head back in pleasure. He uses the opportunity to attack my neck, leaving bites and marks down to my chest. 

His pace quickens, and the sounds he makes turns me more and more on. I wouldn’t be surprised it was all sloppy and dripping right now. The knot in my stomach tightens, and I give a cry as pleasure washes over me. He keeps pumping, riding me through the orgasm before finally coming himself. He buries himself deep inside with a last thrust, and I feel him twitch and coat me. He falls down beside me, body sweaty and exhausted. I lean over, kissing him on his lips, and he returns it, draping his arm around me. I pull the covers over us, the coldness of the room finally reaching my sweaty skin. 

“You’re breathtaking” I whisper, and he laughs, pulling me closer in his embrace. 

“And you’re gorgeous” he says, drawing small patterns on my stomach with his fingers. I can still hear the loudness of the music and people’s voices from downstairs. 

“Should we go back down?”

“No, stay here” he pleads, holding me harder, scared that I’m gonna go. 

“Okay” I whisper back, leaning fully into him, and slowly falling asleep.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer + Alastor - [ NSFW 3 ]

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A/N: Had this song on repeat since its release and it reminded me of these two so much…

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx

Sharing is caring, but when it comes to being between the King of Hell himself and his newly established opponent - the all too cocky Radio Demon- you don’t have much say in who gets fair claim of your existence.

Sharing is caring, but only in the ways that matter to the men wrapped around your little finger. Lucifer needs your physical touch; he can’t go one moment without it, and god help you if you’re around other flirtatious sinners -he’ll be all over you for no reason at all. Hand on your hip, lower back, even on your ass if he’s feeling possessive. His height doesn’t matter, not when he can back hug you just fine, plant kisses on your head or temple, and sit you down on his lap without a second thought. Lucifer is a sucker for praising you, every word out of his mouth is sweeter than honey, and the knowing smile on his lips when you get all soft and shy from his gentle admiration swells his already massive sense of pride.

“You’re a sweet little sinner, aren’t you, baby doll?”

“I’m so proud of you, my love.”

“Oh, aren’t you just the cutest thing!”

“I’ll do anything you ask of me, sweetheart..”

“Atta girl…keep going…just like that…”

The King of Hell never runs out of patience for you, spending his free time in your presence without a care for his rival's foreboding aura. Though at times they blatantly argue, the drop of your sweet smile into a solemn frown has them both rushing out an apology. However, Lucifer is quicker than Alastor to admit his faults. He makes up for mistakes with sincere gestures, visiting you in the dead of night with the promise of pleasure radiating off him in tangible waves. By the following day, you can’t even begin remembering what you were angry about.

Sharing is caring, but Alastor has a hard time with both concepts. He’s not one for physical affection, preferring acts of service and gift-giving as alternatives. You don’t seem to mind, always at his side when he calls, a pretty little thing on his arm while he struts about hell running conspicuous errands, and a genuinely engaging sinner he doesn’t mind having deep conversations with. You contrast him in all the right ways: expressive but gentle, lethal but only when provoked. Unlike most demons, you hold value to Alastor, drawing out a softer, more honest version of the stag that most will never see. In private, you’re allowed to babble off his ear while he works, cuddle up in his lap when he’s feeling ‘vulnerable,’ and sometimes you’re lucky enough to get a few somewhat kind words from the overlord amid lingering kisses.

“What a pretty little thing you are,”

“I’m tempted to keep you all to myself, ma chere… Would you like that, hm?”

“I know you can’t help being a greedy girl, darling, but I’ll always be better than that pompous excuse for a king.”

“You love to provoke me, don’t you, little one? Prancing around the hotel like you do, smiling at every little thing, and showing off for attention..”

“It’s rather pathetic, but lovely things can’t control what they attract..”

He’s possessive, outright toxic in some instances, but you’re quick to manipulate the stag into an agreeable state with the threat of seeking out Lucifer’s company over his. This tactic occasionally works, but sometimes it enrages Alastor to bloodlust. His semi-polite exterior falters, causing the overlord to be on edge with everyone -especially Lucifer- and the king won’t let a chance to irritate him further slip by.

“Something bothering you, Rudolph?”

Lucifer snickers as Alastor enters the parlor through its shadows, automatically glaring at the sight of you straddling the blonde fallen angel with his hat lazily set on your head, and you giggle at his obvious disdain for the scene. “Oh, don’t look so upset, Al. I just wanted to play with Luci for a bit.. “ you flash him a cheeky grin, purposely shifting on the devil's lap to feel his growing erection and show more skin hidden underneath your fluffy oversized jumper. Lucifer chuckled, ducking his head to give you a quick kiss as the crackle of static resonated around the room, but you were far from scared of Alastor’s fury in the presence of his rival.

Sharing is caring, but later that night, when you snuggled under your bedsheets with Lucifer, lying on his bare chest, only wearing his dress shirt, soundly asleep, and listening to his undead heartbeat, you’re jolted awake by the distinctive coolness of shadows lurking over your skin.

“What made you think I wouldn’t put you in your place, my dear? That I wouldn’t remind you he’s not the only one who can lay claim to your very existence?..”

Alastor’s voice echoes through your head, coaxing you awake as his specters entangle around you. They tug, pull, squeeze, and ravish your small frame with his every word. Your cunt starts to pulse with need, leaking arousal in steady drops as a shadowy tentacle prods your entrance before sheathing itself in your warm walls with one sharp thrust.

“Ahm!” You yelp, eyes shooting open as a satisfied whine leaps from your lips; quiet moans soon follow as the bulk of shadows touches your womb with tender strokes. Two more snake up the borrowed dress shirt, swirling under the white silk with precise menstruations, encircling your fragile body ruthlessly until you’re forced to sit up in hopes of gaining more fleeting touches. “Alastor, you’re being mean…” you groan into the darkness, hips rutting down in timid circles, a reflexive action you try to maintain to avoid waking the man lying under you. Alastor’s low laughter shifts from your mind to the confines of the room, signaling his physical appearance in the space, and you’re tempted to search for him but aren’t given a chance to as the scrape of his sharp claws manifests along your sides. He’s close, so close you can feel him leering behind you, breathing in your ear as if he needed your scent to survive.

You lean backward, humming at the familiar firmness of his chest meeting your back,” Just wanted you to be a little nicer, that’s all…” Your explanation for earlier does nothing to quell Alastor’s jealousy; his hands hovering over your sides clamp down harshly, and his claws shred through Lucifer’s shirt to prick your skin. Your heart thuds wildly as a scream threatens to fall from your chest from the pain he causes, but your cunt clenches with excitement from his aggressive treatment. “Reasoning won’t help you now, darling. It seems you only understand one thing..” he purrs into your ear, red eyes glowing as they trace your flushed form, “A-and what’s that?..” you mumble fearfully, feeling a coil build in your core, but a pang of shame in your chest overrides it as Lucifer begins to stir below you. He’ll awake any second, and though you weren’t afraid of him seeing you in a whorish state, very used to being intimate with him, the unpredictable reaction he’d have to Alastor taking advantage of you right in front of his eyes was still nerve-wracking.

Sharing is caring, and Alastor’s response to your feverish question makes more sense than you care to admit. “Attention, my dear. You’re shamelessly addicted to it,” he drawls, smile widening when you whine helplessly, back arching as his shadows wrap around your breasts before swiping over your pert nipples while your cunt no longer resists forceful strokes of his shadows. Your vision blurs as the sensations blend, erasing mannerable actions from your thoughts the closer to cumming you got, and the riveting shivers vibrating your body were evidence enough. The subtle tremble of your thighs mixed with the combined noise of your soft moans and Alastor’s hushed taunting drew the King of Hell awake with a gentle start. Lucifer ruts his hips upwards on instinct before groaning tiredly, mildly aware of the familiar stickiness your arousal causes on his pale skin but unsure as to why it’s there. “Baby, what’s the matter-“He’s at a loss for words for a long moment, almost panting at the sight above him, confused at first but gradually intrigued as sleep waned from his consciousness. Alastor smirks, lips against your neck as he stares down at the fallen angel, daring him to instigate a fight. “Ah, looks like you awoke your preferred lover, ma chere. How rude…” the deer demon taunts you, clearly unbothered by your disagreements and conflicted writhing. “N-no, that’s not ah- ah- mmm fuck Al, please d-don’t!” A bright blush coats your cheeks, tears brimming your waterline as the demon nips at your bare shoulder before lapping up the blood that trickles from the wound. His gaze never leaves Lucifer’s as his tongue collects the red liquid, humming triumphantly as a prominent red color floods the ladders’ cheeks and eyes. “How fucking dare you..” the blonde hisses, voice thick with an indecipherable emotion, and you whine anxiously as embarrassment rushes your veins. It wasn’t your fault Alastor was taking his anger out on you this way, disregarding his aversion for touch in the hopes of getting back at you both, but it’d be a lie if you said you weren’t enjoying the intense situation brewing.

Sharing is caring, and you're afraid neither entity will consider doing so as a heavy beat of silence engulfs the room. The only sound is your rushed breaths, growing heavier with every thrust and twist of Alastor’s shadows in and around your body. You try to break free from the overlord, gazing down at Lucifer pleadingly for a better chance at forgiveness. Unexpectedly, his displeased expression morphs dramatically seeing the desperation in your eyes. He’d never been the type for sadism, let alone encouraging it, but your need for his help stirred a primal desire in his chest that he’d only felt sparks of recently. It was no help to him that Alastor, a demon with no remorse or pity for your plight, was the one indicting pleasure on you. He’d seen the stag agitated, irritated, and maybe even flustered but never lustful. It was new and undeniably attractive. Why waste an opportunity to use it against him?

Lucifer took a slow breath, stamping out his rage in seconds as his eyes shifted from your lidded ones to Alastor’s, “How dare you have fun without me, hm?… that’s a little unfair,” he pouts, stifling a groan as his cock twitches to life. The radio demon scoffs, forgetting his grudge against Lucifer for the mutual benefit of desire, “If you wished for fairness, you shouldn’t have fallen from heaven …” he taunts back.

Sharing is caring, but the instant sting of Alastor’s insult doesn’t anger Lucifer like usual. It eggs on the blonde, prompting him to reach for you, and you welcome the gentle coolness of his fingers trailing up front. Unlike Alastor, his claws do you no harm, never breaking skin even as he cups your jaw firmly. “C’mere, little one. M’ not going to hurt you…” he coos quietly, eyes glowing as brightly as Alastor’s as you leer into his touch like a wounded lamb. “Yes sir…” you whisper compliantly, surprised that Alastor relents his hold just enough to let you follow Lucifer’s lead. He’s relatively calm watching you, admiring how your hair falls like a curtain over your flushed face, skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, and the dress shirt slipping off your shoulders but sticking to your skin at every curve you had. There were reasons he wanted you to himself but dealt with sharing you with another, and this sight was one of them. You could be so good to them both, on all fours, cunt creaming from his actions and Lucifer’s words, and your loyalty to them both on a whole show no matter the implications.

Sharing is caring, and to some degree, you believe it’s a possibility for your relationship with a prideful fallen angel and an egotistical demon. Lucifer lay beneath your trembling form, muttering encouraging praises against your lips when he wasn’t connecting them with his own in heated kisses.

“Mhm, good girl…go on, come for him like you do for me.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby doll..”

“Fuck, you like that hm? Want more? Ask him nicely, sweetheart…”

“Cum for us, my love…”

“You’re doing so well….taking us so well. There you go, baby, all of it just like that…”

Alastor loses track of himself within moments of watching you come undone in his shadows for the first time, hungry to feel the warmth of your cunt for himself as puddles of your cum form on Lucifer’s crotch. You don’t fight him when he replaces his specter's task of fucking you, welcoming the length of his cock with a grateful smile and melodic moan of his name. “Alastor!… nghh yess, please r-right there!..” you yelp into Lucifer’s neck, letting him cradle your head as he talks you through the rise of your next high, “You sound so precious like this, baby. Give em’ what he wants.” His tone is strained, leaning towards a moan as he watches your expressions switch between pleasure and pure wonder. Alastor is fixated on the both of you, ears twitching at the top of his head with every satiated moan you let out and sinful word Lucifer says. His hands find purchase on your hips, gripping them harshly as he snaps his roughly, plowing his cock into your cunt with so much pent aggression your legs refuse to stop shaking. “Oh, fuck…” he groans in the air, tearing his gaze away from your arched back and leaking entrance to try and slow the impending peak of his high. Self-control was something Alastor prided himself in, but it was spiraling from his grasp the longer he fucked you.

Was this what the King of Hell had been enjoying with you?

Milking you of every drop of lust in your body?

Filling you with his overrated seed in the hopes of one-upping him?

If so, Alastor could never blame him. You felt divine, after all, and had no complaints about being used for pleasure.

Sharing is caring, but you forget all about it when Alastor yanks you away from Lucifer, a hand tangled in your head so tight you’re sure he might rip into your scalp if he holds you any tighter. Luckily, the overlord refrains from doing so, opting to groan into your ear as he buries his length to the hilt in your fluttering cunt, spilling ropes of warm cum into your abused womb with no remorse. “Don’t waste a single drop, ma chere. See it as a gift for being so well-behaved,” the radio overlay in his voice is gone, giving way to an accent you couldn’t resist mewling at. Lucifer chuckled, eyes fixed on where Alastor and you were connected, smirking at the mess you’d both made on top of him. “Need a taste of that…” he mumbles more to himself, tone hungry, demanding. You’ve yet to catch your breath before Alastor lets out a short laugh, flinging you forward into Lucifer’s chest without much care as to how weak you still are, “Greedy bastard,” he snickers, slowly pulling out of you with a satisfied grin at your attempt to keep him in. “Now, now, dear. I’ll have another turn with you soon. No need to be selfish..”

Sharing is caring, and oh, how wonderful it is when you’re sat in Alastor’s lap, facing away from him, one leg bent over his while the other rests on Lucifer’s shoulder. The King of Hell kneels before you both, inhaling the scent of your cunt, and smiling at the steady stream of cum drizzling past your folds. He’d done this many times before, a being addicted to the taste of women, of you specifically, but you still shied away from his vulgar eagerness. Your coy reactions only worsened when the notion of Alastor’s cum mixed with your own eventually settling on Lucifer’s tongue came to mind. They hated each other after all, and despite getting along most of the time in your presence, you never imagined this to happen, but neither backed down from the ordeal.

“W-wait Luci, you don’t h-have-“ you start to protest quietly, squirming in Alastor’s hold to avoid Lucifer, but your refusals don’t hold any weight to them.

“Mm, but I want to, love…I can’t help it,” the blonde whined as if he’d die without getting the task done, hands cupping your inner thighs tenderly as he flicked his tongue over your slit and swollen clit. You jolted in Alastor’s grip, biting back a whimper as he mumbled into the crook of your shoulder, “It’s impolite to refuse royalty, so let him have his fill …”

Sharing is caring, and you’re sure Lucifer could survive off eating your pussy alone just fine for the rest of his immortal life. He makes a show of it, diving his tongue in and out of your stretched entrance, moving to suck on your clit every so often before putting both actions into tedious repetition. You couldn’t remain coherent as he explored your insides with expert focus, letting his tongue linger in the spongiest and sweetest spots in your cunt just to draw back and generously spit on your clit. He’d learned your body, when to hit nerves, or when to overwhelm them. As of now, every sense you had was heightened, intensifying when Alastor’s eyes studied your facial expressions, your smile growing an inch more expansive when you rushed out a warning to Lucifer.

“Gonna cum m’ gonna cum…!”

The devil perks up, delving two fingers into you, red irises dilating completely as they hit a tender spot in your cunt immediately, curling against it at a languid pace. He met your gaze with a proud smile on his face, tongue lapping at your clit leisurely, begging you to come undone without hesitation. Alastor curses under his breath, agitated by the fact that your moans are turning him on again, and you feel his cock twitch under your weight.

Sharing is caring, and the euphoric bliss of releasing in Lucifer’s mouth felt divine, bringing small tears to your eyes as he buried his face in your mound, moaning at the taste of you drenching his tongue. Alastor grunts as your hips rock to meet Lucifer's pace, hands creeping up to cup your breasts, kneading the plush flesh mindlessly to avoid bucking his hips against your backside for better friction. He couldn't give his rival the triumph of seeing him worked up at the sight of you cumming so reverently under his touch. You felt powerless between them, shaking in Alastor's arms and pleading for Lucifer to join. One look is all it takes for the two to agree, giving into your minuscule wishes and thoroughly enjoying themselves the remainder of the evening.

Sharing is caring, but if you dare to utter a word of what transpired that night in the presence of others, both will deny the implication of tolerating one another. Although, you find yourself being used by both more often, stuffed full of their cum night after night, and keenly aware of the mutual trust growing between them when you finally collapse into sleep by their sides. They're capable of fair behavior with you, but only in private. Away from the eyes of others who’ll never witness how obsessed The Radio Demon & The King of Hell are with you and you alone.

xxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxx

It's just a filler post cause I'm getting burnt out with requests! ❤️ I love your ideas, so I'm trying to write them all in my style but as concisely as possible. It's tiring but fun…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

They may not be able to stand each other but I’ll gladly take them both (not in a fight) ❤️ credits to creator

[lynnie-ee]

Paint the roses red.

╰┈➤"In which the Prefect makes a portray for Hearstlabyul's Housewarden in hopes that he'll realise their feelings for him.”

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.1k words. Non-established relationship. Reader is mentioned to be good at drawing and painting.

╰►Note: English is not my first language, so feel free to tell me if there are any grammatical mistakes!

╰►Masterlist. (requests open)

⤿

⤿

The warm softness of the sun envelops the gardens of the Heartslabyul Dorm on a calm Saturday morning. Riddle hums quietly, enjoying the silence, an uncommon occurrence, even rarer after the enrollment of two certain freshmen in the dorm. Still, he decides to just bask in the moment, a cup of tea in his hand as he enjoys the peace brought by the early hour, when everyone else was sleeping.

“Riddle.” His name is called softly from a near distance, and he’s quick to recognize the owner of the voice, who promptly appears before him, a bag on their hands as the approach his seat.

“Prefect.” He greets with a similar demeanour, gesturing for them to sit down in front of him, his expression stern as usual but his voice softer, maybe due to the quiet ambience, maybe due to the presence of the magicless student. “What brings you here so early?”

“I wanted to see you.” The explanation falls gently from their lips, as they reach for the cup of tea that Riddle extends towards them, which they use to mask the smile on their face as they observe Heartslabyul’s Housewarden blushing slightly at the honesty of their words. “You’ve been awfully busy due to the final exams, haven’t you?”

“Indeed, studying and tutoring members of the dorm takes a great amount of my time.” He nods, his gaze drifting momentarily towards the small bag the Prefect carried, before looking at them once again. “I trust you’ve already done plenty of studying for the upcoming tests?”

“Haha, of course…” They answered with a nonchalant voice, although the slight fidgety movement of their hands could betray that their statement was perhaps, not at all true, which didn’t go unnoticed by the second-year student.  

“…If you were to be in need of assistance on any subject, please don’t refrain from seeking my help.”

“Oh, don’t worry! You’re already busy enough handling your students, I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never a bother, Prefect.”

Silence reigned once again between the two of them, as the Prefect took a moment to recover from the natural way in which Riddle’s words made their heart flutter with delight, only fuelling further the nervous sensation they had before they arrived at his dorm.

‘This may be the best moment to do it.’ They conclude after a brief look at Riddle’s peaceful expression, clearing their throat to catch his attention as they pick up the bag that was previously resting on their lap.

“Drinking tea with you wasn’t the only reason why I came here, I must tell you.” They mumbled, taking a small canvas out of their bag, glancing at the inviting expression of the Housewarden, who quietly encouraged them to continue. “I wanted to give you this.”

Riddle picks up the canvas carefully, his expression stern but his touch gentle as he holds it and allows himself to examine it attentively. His face quickly burns in bright red as he recognizes his very own features captured with delicacy on the fibres of the canvas, accompanied by flowers that surrounded his frame with the same artistry.

“Do you like it?” The Prefect breaks the silence, their impatience growing further as they observed the lack of comment from the Heartslabyul student. He coughs discreetly on his palm as to mask his bashful state, his gaze drifting away from the canvas towards the person in front of him.

“It’s a marvellous work.” Is all he manages to say, before realizing how tactless he sounded. “I…I really appreciate it. Deuce and Ace had commented before that you were skilled at painting, but I might have underestimated their words.”

“Well, I’m still learning a few things, so there may be some mistakes on the portrait-”

“It’s perfect, I assure you.” He interrupts quickly, a faint smile on his lips. “May I ask what led you to choose me for the painting?”

“I just felt like drawing you.” The Prefect blurted out, their gaze avoiding Riddle’s eyes as they could feel the heat rising toward their cheeks.

“I noticed there are flowers on the portrait, too. I’m not familiar with them, what are these?”

The Prefect sighed to shake away the anxious feeling on their chest, thinking about the inspiration for the painting, while refuging themselves behind the cup of the tea that had been sitting forgotten on the table for a few minutes now.

“Well, at first, I wanted to paint red roses. It was the most obvious option for me.” They explained carefully, glancing at the flowers that surrounded them in the middle of the dorm garden. “But I’ve been reading about flower language lately, and I wanted to look for something more fitting. A flower that represented my feelings better, you could say. These flowers-” They pointed them out on the canvas. “-are red tulips.”

“How interesting.” He mumbled, curiously observing the painting, looking at the detailed illustrations. “I’m not really familiar with flower language. What do red tulips mean?”

“That’s something you’ll have to investigate by yourself, I’m afraid.” They got up from their sitting, picking up their bag. “After all, what’s the fun in telling you directly?”

“I suppose you’re right, Prefect.” Riddle smiled softly, carefully leaving the painting on the table, allowing him to walk towards the magicless student to bid them goodbye properly. “Thank you for the portrait, I’ll treasure it accordingly.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” They mumbled, ready to go back to their own dorm before Grim woke up. “I’ll see you around, Riddle.”

“Of course. I’ll inform you as soon as I look into the meaning of the flowers.”

“…Take your time, don’t worry.” Their voice was tinted with embarrassment before they turned around to leave the Heartslabyul dorm. Riddle kept their gaze on them until they disappeared out of the garden, his cheeks tinted red as he looked once again at the portrait on the table, a reminder of the thoughtfulness of the Prefect.

It didn’t take long before he found himself walking through the corridors of the library, a book about flowers in his hand, his curiosity piqued as he searched for the specific kind of plant among the pages.

“Red tulips, red tulips, red tulips…. Oh, here they are.”

His fingers suddenly dropped the book on the table in front of him. Riddle nervously glanced once again at the words printed on the piece of paper as to make sure he didn’t read incorrectly, his face painted on a bright red that seemed to put the colour of a red rose to shame.

‘ Red Tulip: passion, romance. “I declare my love.” ‘

⤿

⤿

⤿

[tealvenetianmask]

Blitz is dyslexic (petty post about why I'm right with proof from recent episodes)

Disclaimer: I don't have dyslexia, so I can't speak from personal experience, BUT neurodivergent people tend to find each other, and I've been very close with a few people with dyslexia, to the point where I've extensively edited their writing. I've also learned quite a bit about dyslexia while working in the education field. Okay- let's go.

I hear way too often (yes, I'm referencing a certain youtuber here) that Blitz can't have dyslexia because we sometimes see him reading and we sometimes see him writing without errors. So when he shows spelling and grammatical errors in his texts and notes to self, that must just be him being rude/trying to be cute/being lazy.

And if the errors were just slang and abbreviations, maybe the people making those arguments would have a point. But they're not. And I'm convinced that he has dyslexia. So what gives? Why the inconsistency (assuming it's an intentional choice on the part of the writers)?

Most dyslexic adults CAN write correctly with extra effort. It's just harder. In the learning disability world, we sometimes call it self- accommodating. With any disability, that means doing work that neurotypical people don't have to do in order to overcome the obstacle that the disability poses- and often, no one else sees that work or understands that it's necessary. For people with dyslexia, that often means that they have to check and double check their writing.

When YOU AND I (if we're both non-dyslexic people) write casually and don't put in effort, our spelling is going to be mostly correct. And if we use slang and abbreviations, it's a choice. When someone with dyslexia shoots off a quick text, it's going to look messy, and they'll probably only do it in a text to someone they're comfortable with. THAT IS THE DIFFERENCE.

Let's look at some recent examples from Helluva Boss.

Blitz is writing notes to himself here, so he doesn't have any need to make them presentable. Cute inside jokes with himself are possible (i.e. the horses and nicknames that we sometimes see), but the spelling mistakes here don't really make sense as jokes. They also wouldn't be easier to write than the correct words for someone who isn't dyslexic. Mok(backward S)ie isn't shorter than Moxxie, and remembr isn't much shorter than remember. The spelling is also phonetic, which fits with how many people with dyslexia spell in initial drafts. He just isn't watching for and correcting his mistakes, because why would he in this situation?!

Okay, different situation . . . the apologies. I would argue that Blitz IS putting in physical effort here, even if it's not emotional effort. He brings entire gift baskets full of his favorite foods for the people on his apology list after all. Here's what he writes to the DHORKS:

I think "sowy" IS meant to be cute here. It's not phonetic after all. He put a little effort into drawing them a cute little horse too. And then the cherubs . . .

I think this is pretty interesting. Blitz actually bothers here to fix his spelling mistake. He spells everything right on the inside too, even though he's telling these guys "fuck you." Notice that he runs out of room and has to write sideways. And notice the nice block letters on the front. In terms of why he's trying so much here, well, it's to prove to Stolas that he can put effort into apologizing to people, isn't it? And that means that the unintentional errors get fixed!

Now, Blitz tries to text an apology to Stolas (and obviously stalls for emotional reasons), and we see him typing it in real time,

Yeah . . . it's a combination of shorthand and just plain old misspellings. He's focused on choosing the right words, not on getting the spelling right, and it's impossible to say he doesn't care at this point. Someone who has an easy time writing correctly spelled text might use some shorthand, but just like we saw with Blitz's notes to self, they wouldn't likely intentionally misspell completely unnecessary things, especially when trying to come off as genuine.

Sigh. I rest my fucking case.

If you'd like to see my thoughts on that text conversation from Western Energy, go ahead and click on the link- it isn't really about dyslexia, and I do actually think that Blitz is pretty literate in spite of his disability and limited education, but it does explain why I think the conversation goes the way it does.

[lipglossanon]

December Winds

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

Priest!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (one shot)

dedicated to you 💀 anon! 💜 I hope you like it!

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, religious connotations, Leon POV, dirty talk, nipple teasing, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (m receiving 🫣), unprotected sex, creampie, kissing, biting, slight blood

kinda beta read by my friend Rex 💜 (only like 80% so any mistakes are my own 😅 )

title from December Winds by Nox Arcana

.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜❅・.・❅.・。.・゜

After Spain, Leon quits. As he tells the president, “I’ve seen enough.” And he meant it. He packs up everything, quietly bids goodbye to the few coworkers he respects and leaves out from Washington DC, praying he’ll never see the place again. 

He searches for a job that’s a little less stressful and a lot more reclusive. He stumbles across an online ad looking for a live-in priest for a small rundown chapel buried in the middle of the Appalachian mountains. A quick search on google maps yields the exact results he’s hoping for—there’s nothing around for miles and miles. 

It’s a cinch to get ordained online and even easier to order the cassock and Roman collar. He already has plenty of black shirts, pants, and even shoes, meaning it’s no sweat at all for him to look the part by the end of the week. 

When he arrives at the small church, there’s a handful of elderly people gathered to give him a short walk through the place. They leave him with plenty of homemade food as well as their phone numbers for the cracked rotary phone in the office in case he needs any help.

The months roll by and slowly bleeds into a couple of years. He always sees the same handful of people at service, sometimes joined by visiting family members, but always a small congregation which is what he prefers. This year hasn’t been any different, that is until a knock rings out in the empty vestibule drawing him up short as he lays out pamphlets for next week's Christmas service. 

Pulling open the heavy oak doors, he’s surprised to see a new face. You stand there shivering in the cold, jacketed arms clutching your middle. 

“H-hi,” you give him a bright smile despite your chattering teeth, “m-my car’s s-s-stuck in the s-snow and—“

Before you can finish, Leon’s opening the door wider, feeling chill bumps race across his arms as the cold winter air gusts past you and into the church. 

“Please, come in,” he steps back so you’ll follow. 

Once inside, he shuts and bolts the door closed. 

“I’m s-so glad someone’s here,” you laugh.

Leon watches you, expression stoic even though internally he’s cataloging every single thing about you with heavy interest. 

He sees your smile tremble a little, your own gaze roving his face. 

“I’m s-sorry to bother you,” you rub your hands together for warmth, “if I c-could just make a call, I’ll b-be out of your hair in n-no time.”

You pull your cellphone out with a frown, “I h-haven’t had service in miles.”

Leon glances down at your hands before looking back up into your face, nervousness radiating from your body language. 

He turns, talking loud enough for you to hear as you follow behind him, “Phone’s in the office. If you can’t reach anyone, I have a number to a local mechanic who can help tow you out.”

“Thank you so much,” your voice sounds relieved, “I hate bothering you, but I really appreciate the help.”

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.”

He glances back over his shoulder and sees your gaze wandering around the church, taking in the clean if rough hewn pews and stained glass windows. Your eyes cut to his quickly as if you sensed him watching, giving him a shy smile. 

“You have a beautiful church, Mister?”

“Father Kennedy,” he answers, voice a little rougher than intended as you bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Sorry, not really up on my religion,” you laugh a little bashfully, “it’s nice to meet you, Father Kennedy.”

“Likewise,” Leon turns his attention to opening the office door, gesturing for you to enter first. 

His eyes slide down your body, taking in your curves, and shaking away the urge to sink his teeth into your soft neck. You walk over to the old rotary phone, something Leon never updated as it still works just fine. 

“Oh wow, my grandma had one of these!” you grin at him, “it’s so cute that you kept it for your office.”

That dark urge to bite you flares up in his chest again but he shoves it down. He nods at you instead of saying anything and you turn back to the phone. 

Picking up the handset, you frown and click on the dial a few times before setting it back down on the cradle. 

“Seems like your phone’s out,” you bite your lip again, looking agitated. 

Leon shrugs, “Tends to happen this time of year. No telling when it’ll start working again.”

You nod along and blow out a breath, “Okay, we’ll I’ll head back to the car and see if I can—“

“Stay the night.”

That pulls you up short and he wants to laugh at the wide eyed look you give him. 

“Stay here and we can try the phone again. If it doesn’t work, I can walk you to the nearest neighbor and try their phone.”

A soft smile crosses your face and Leon’s hit with an avalanche of impure want purring in his chest. 

“Are you sure it’s no trouble? I mean I’d really appreciate it, but I don’t wanna put you out.”

“No trouble, besides I’m here to help those in need,” a crooked grin slips out, “and you seem to fit that description.”

Another shy bite of your lip has him shifting his feet, willing himself not to do anything to you. 

“Okay then,” you give him the brightest smile yet, “thank you, Father Kennedy. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

A sudden flash of you thanking him on your knees floods his thoughts and he turns away from you, adjusting his half hard cock through his slacks, never more grateful to wear all black than now. 

“Follow me please,” he calls out to you, listening as you quickly walk to catch up. 

He also listens as you introduce yourself and explain as to why you’re out here in the first place, basically boiling it down to visiting some family for the holidays. Nodding along, he guides you into his living quarters which just happens to be a bedroom big enough to house a bed and a desk with a few bookshelves. 

“It’s so cozy,” you gush, running your hand along some of the handmade quilts and crocheted throws the church parishioners have given him over the years. 

“It’s home,” he states simply, moving to the fireplace and stoking the embers into a flame. 

“I’m kinda impressed,” you say as you hang up your jacket near the door, “it’s really rare to see someone so young as a priest in these kinds of communities.”

When he only gives you a deadpan expression, you begin to flounder. 

“Oh I mean, I grew up near here and so I’m just used to like older— you know what, I just feel like I’m digging a hole for myself,” you drag your palms across your eyes, “it’s just different is all. And either way I'm happy to have met you.”

Leon finally lets his lips quirk up into a half smile, amused at your reactions. 

“I understand, it’s just funny to see you try to explain it,” he moves away from the fireplace and grabs a change of clothes, ignoring how your cute pout is making him feel. 

“There’s a bathroom just through that door,” he points to his right, your left, “I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in jeans. There’s also some spare toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet.”

He watches as you get flustered when taking the simple sweats and cotton t-shirt. 

“Oh yeah, thanks,” you duck your head trying to hide your face and disappear behind the bathroom door to change. 

Leon lets out a long breath, trying to ease the tension building up in his chest. The wanting seems to only be getting worse the more time he’s spending with you. It’s like he’s a teenager seeing a skin magazine for the first time. 

Has he really been out here that long without seeing a pretty little thing like you? He’s in the midst of his thoughts while removing his collar and unbuttoning his cassock when he hears a soft squeak. 

He turns to see your eyes shut tight, hands clenching your bundled up clothes to your chest.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to!”

Leon frowns before looking down to see his bare chest offset by his rosary. Heat washes through him to see you peek again and bite down on your lip hard as you turn away. 

“I honestly was on autopilot,” he murmurs, voice rough making him clear his throat, “apologies, I’ll go change in the bathroom while you get settled.”

You gasp as he brushes past you to enter the bathroom. Grabbing onto the sink, Leon stares at his own blown pupils in the mirror. 

Get it together. It’s just a woman. A sweet woman. A pretty woman who probably has an equally pretty little cunt—

Shaking his head to clear it, he finishes dressing for bed. As he brushes his teeth, his eyes wander and notice the toothbrush you used sitting off to the side. A sudden flash of possessiveness surprises him leading him to quickly finish up and make his way back into the bedroom. 

You startle, standing up from sitting at the edge of the bed. 

Hands wringing together, you smile nervously, “Uh I-I wasn’t sure where to sleep? Like I can take the floor—“

He’s shaking his head already interrupting you, “We’ll share the bed. It gets extremely cold at night and it wouldn’t be safe to sleep on the floor.”

You frown over at the bed and look back at him apprehensively, “I can just use the quilts to make a pallet in front of the fire.”

“Please,” he gestures to the bed, “there’s no central heating and it gets deathly cold some nights. Even with the fire, I’d be afraid you would get frostbite.”

“I’ll sleep against the wall,” he softens his voice, “we’ll put pillows between us if you’d like and you can have the edge.”

He watches you bite on that damn lower lip again, wanting it between his own teeth. 

Nodding, your eyes seek out his again, “Okay. And we’ll try again first thing in the morning?”

“Of course,” he agrees easily, “I tend to wake early so I can check and wake you if need be.”

Your features melt from concern to thankful, “That’s very sweet of you, Father.”

A hot pulse of arousal makes his dick twitch but Leon ignores it in favor of offering you a slight smile. 

“Of course. Shall we?” he nods at the bed. 

You climb in after him, settling down under the layers of blankets and quilts. 

“I definitely never would’ve guessed I’d start my vacation by sharing a bed with a priest,” you giggle to yourself. 

“Unusual to say the least,” he dryly replies, sea dark eyes watching as you turn on your side, back facing him. 

You hum softly, shoulders twitching under the shirt and legs swishing under the covers. 

“Good night, Father Kennedy,” your soft voice has him gripping the blanket tightly. 

“Goodnight.”

It’s driving Leon up the wall with how badly he wants to reach out and touch you. Settling a little more, he listens as your breathing evens out and finds his own eyes slipping shut. 

Later in the night, he wakes up to your tossing and turning, feeling you press your ass back against him. He stifles a groan, eyes adjusting to the low light from the fireplace. You keep fidgeting, accidentally rubbing against his chubbed cock until he’s thickening in his sweats. His heavy hand reaches down and grabs you hip, stilling your movement. 

“Sorry,” your sleepily mumble, “‘m trying to get comfy.”

He dips his head down to ghost his lips across the shell of your ear, feeling you shiver, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

He rocks forward, letting his bulge rub against your ass; you whine and press back against him harder. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I promise I didn’t mean to.”

“Sorry, huh?” he dips his tongue into your ear making you whimper, “are you asking for forgiveness?”

His hand grasps your hip and pulls you into a slow rhythm of grinding back against his stiff cock. 

“Oh,” you mewl as he kisses the shell of your ear, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not how you ask,” he chuckles, kissing down your neck, “you know better than that.”

You moan as he bites down on the soft skin that’s been tempting him all this time. 

“Forgive me, Father Kennedy,” you break the rhythm and grind back against him harder, “I’m so sorry I’m being so bad. God, can’t believe I’m dry humping a priest.”

A smack lands on your ass making you jump. 

“We don’t take the Lord's name in vain either,” his low voice slips into your ear, “for that, you get those cute little nipples pinched.”

As you moan, he rolls you over onto your back, slipping an arm around your shoulders so both of his hands can knead and grope at your breasts. 

“Pull your shirt up,” he murmurs in your ear, “be a good girl for me.”

You shove the t-shirt up to pool around your neck, hands settling back down to twist in the sheets. His fingers quickly move to circle and pinch your hard nipples. 

“Oh, ohhh,” your eyes squeeze shut as he teases and rubs your hard buds, “Father, please.”

He bites your neck again making you writhe and press your breasts up into his hands. 

“Please,” you whimper, eyes glimmering at him in the firelight, bottom lip swollen from your own teeth. 

“Who knew such a tempting sinful girl would end up in my church much less my own bed,” he rumbles in your ear, grinding against your hip as he teases your nipples. 

“Father Kennedy,” you swipe a soft, pink tongue against your lips, making his teeth ache, “shouldn’t we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?” he kisses your jaw, fingers tweaking your nipples sharply making you moan high in your throat. 

“No, no, please, it’s so—you’re so hot,” you whine, hips squirming for friction under the blankets, “please, Father, want you so bad.”

“It’s a sin to tempt a priest,” he trails his lips across your neck to suck another mark into your skin, “you’ll have to repent.”

“H-how?” your eyes flutter, trying valiantly to stay open. 

He pulls away with a smirk, “You’ll have to use your body in service to the Lord.”

A keening whimper escapes your lips, hands shakily reaching up to run through his sandy blonde hair. 

“I-I’ll do anything,” you scratch your nails along his scalp making him groan, “just show me how I need to repent, Father Kennedy.”

He pulls his arm out from under you so he can climb on top of you, settling in between your thighs. Your hands pull his hair as he sucks a hard nipple into his hot mouth. He ruts against the mattress as he suckles each hard bud, nipping at the soft skin of your breasts and leaving marks everywhere. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a pair of tits in my face,” his voice is low, smoky, and he can feel your legs try to press together only stopped by his bulky body.

He takes his time, kissing the areola before running his tongue over your nipple, letting his teeth softly bite down before sucking it further into his mouth. Your hips buck up against his chest as he lays on top of you. He can feel how wet you’ve gotten already, the soft press of your panties against his skin leaving behind a sticky mess. 

He pulls back to look up into your dazed eyes, “Let me taste that wet pussy.”

You moan, hands tensing in his hair, “Y-you want to?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t,” he grins, “besides I wanna clean up that messy cunt with my tongue before you get slick all over my sheets.”

He scoots down, dragging his lips across your tummy and dropping kisses as he goes. 

“We’ll keep the blankets pulled up so you don’t get cold,” he murmurs as he bites your hip bone before soothing it with his tongue. 

You give him a shaky nod, “Okay, Father.”

He bucks his hips at that, feeling his cock leak in his sweats. He feels as you tug the blankets up and when he looks back up he can barely see your face making this seem so illicit and dirty it’s getting him even harder. 

He quickly eases your panties down your legs and tosses them on the outside of the blankets before settling between your legs again. Leon lets his instructive thoughts win and bites bruise after bruise into the dough of your thighs, sucking and worrying the skin until you're squirming against his mouth.  

He bites his way up to the crease of your thigh then lets his tongue trail across your skin until he’s lapping at your swollen clit. He hears as you moan loudly, thighs falling open wider as he hungrily licks into your cunt. 

“You taste like sin,” he groans as he pulls back to spread your pussy open, “so fucking good.”

Pressing his face tightly against your slick coated lips, he flutters his tongue into your soaked hole and grinds his nose against your bundle of nerves. He slips his tongue in and out of your hole before licking back up to your throbbing clit, softly kissing the sensitive bud again and again until sucking it gently into his mouth. 

Sweat beads around his hairline as it grows warmer underneath the layers of covers. Leon mouths at your sloppy cunt until you’re moaning loudly as slick coats his chin and lower jaw. Once your thighs start to tremble, he pulls away and crawls back up your body. The cooler air of the room kissing his sweaty skin as your hands scrabble against his shoulders. 

“‘M so close,” you whimper as you tug him into a messy kiss, “wanna cum, please Father.” 

He clicks his tongue, “You have to work hard for forgiveness,” he presses his thumb down against your chin making your lips part. 

“Maybe we should try filling that mouth up first,” he murmurs, watching as your eyes droop. 

You nod, running your hands down his broad chest, “Please, wanna see you, too.”

Surprise crosses his features, but he schools it into a crooked smile, “Aren’t you sweet? Take your shirt off for me while I get undressed.”

In no time, he’s kneeling between your parted thighs, completely nude save for the rosary around his neck. When he goes to slip it off, your hand snaps around his wrist.

He watches as the embarrassment wars with arousal as you ask him to keep wearing it. His dick throbs and kicks against his thigh and your eyes go lidded as they take in his thick cock.

“Allow me to show you how sorry I am, Father,” you scratch your nails across his chest all the way down his toned stomach to a happy trail that leads to the thatch of hair above his cock. 

Goosebumps travel across his skin when you rub across his hips bones, breath ghosting across the drippy head of his dick. 

Your tongue lathes over the slit, circling his tip and teasing under his foreskin before you pull back. 

That shy look steals over your face, “Can you sit here?”

You pat the gap in the pillows in front of the headboard. Leon’s lips quirk in amusement and shifts to sit with his back to the headboard and legs splayed out across the bed. You move to kneel in between his thighs, eyes greedily taking in his stiff cock. 

He watches as you lean forward, one hand coming up to grip the base of his cock as the other rests on his thigh, and slowly sucks the head of his dick into your mouth. Your eyes shutter with a moan as you take more and more of his cock into your mouth until you choke. 

Pulling off with a gasp, your watery eyes blink open staying on his as you sink back down on his cock. His abdomen tenses and he grabs the back of your neck with his broad palm to guide your head. 

“No need to rush,” his eyes track your tongue as you lick and kiss all along his dripping slit.

“You taste so good,” you moan as you lick your way down to his balls. 

Leon keeps his gaze on you as your wet mouth sucks his balls into your mouth, whining when you can’t fit both at the same time. You smear your face against the spit slick skin of his squishy sac as you nuzzle and suck his taint.  

“Oh, good girl,” he parts his legs wider so your mouth can reach him easier. 

Your glazed eyes slide shut when you slip your tongue down further to ghost across his asshole. Tongue drifting lazily against it, Leon grunts when you finally lick into him. 

“Such an eager girl,” he rasps as you softly eat him out, tongue eagerly rimming his hole. 

You sloppily makeout with his hole as his cock weeps precum everywhere; his own heavy hands keep your face buried between his cheeks. 

When you finally pull back, your chin’s coated with spit. 

“Suck my cock a little more and I’ll fill up that needy cunt,” he pulls your swollen mouth to the weeping head. 

Whining, you easily follow along and let his thick cock sink back into your mouth. He luxuriates in the feeling, the feeling of your hot hungry mouth slurping loudly around his dick. You moan and whine around him, rubbing your thighs together for friction. He smirks to see you acting so needy, so obedient in servicing him. 

“Up,” he murmurs, grabbing your neck and pulling you off of his cock.

Your hands reach out to dig into his pecs, framing the rosary between your hands as you straddle his lap, his cock snugly pressing against your pussy. 

“Oh, Father, please,” you grind down on his wet cock, dragging slick along his throbbing length until your clit’s bumping his tip. 

“Poor little lamb,” his hands grab your hips, letting you rock against him. 

With the grip he has on your hips, he easily manhandles you onto your back, kneeling between your spread legs, cock leaking all over your wet cunt.  

“Oh god,” you mewl, scratching at his chest. 

He spanks your clit with his fat cock. 

“What did I say about taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

Your pupils swallow any color left in your eyes, “‘m sorry, daddy. I don’t mean to be bad.”

“Fuck,” he growls, slapping your cunt with his cock over and over to make your hips jump, “are you misbehaving on purpose?”

Head shaking no, you wrap your legs around his waist, “No, I didn’t mean— it just slipped out. I‘m sorry, Father Kennedy.”

He nudges the tip of his cock into your hole, making you keen and rock down. The pressure around just the head makes him want to be rougher, meaner with you.

He grins smugly down at you, “You just can’t help it, can you? The wetter this pussy gets the dumber you are, right? What a slut.”

You whine, the heels of your bare feet digging into the back of his legs, goading him to slide deeper into your cunt. 

“Yes, I’m your slut, Father,” your hands tug on his rosary making him groan and fuck his dick into your spasming cunt. 

His heavy weight drops over your body, earning another low whine followed by your nails scoring a hot trail across his shoulders. He shudders, enjoying that small bite of pain as your eyes roll back in your head, pussy sucking him in even deeper somehow. 

“Pretty cunt just needed me buried balls deep in her, huh?” he groans as he pulls out just to sink back into your pussy, “so tight.”

“W-wait,” your voice goes high with sudden realization, “I thought p-priests were banned f-from having sex,” you gasp out, stuttering through Leon’s thrusts. 

“Baby,” he coos condescendingly, “you don’t think I was some silly little virgin, did you?”

He boxes you in even more, dropping down on his forearms that rest on each side of your head. 

“But I gotta say, you’ve got the best pussy I’ve ever fucked,” he kisses your mouth, “so wet,” he drops another kiss to your lips, “and tight,” and another kiss ending with a rough bite of your bottom lip, “this kitty’s been purring for my dick all night.”

Your head thrashes against the pillow at his words, “Yes, yes, fuck,” tears drip from your lash line, “it’s so good, Father Kennedy.”

Molten heat rushes through his veins at your wanton face paired with that sweet voice. His teeth sink into that plush bottom lip, suckling on it until you tug your head back with a soft cry. It’s swollen and split from his teeth, a small bead of blood welling up only for him to lick it away with a groan.  

He licks into your mouth, mixing spit and blood until he’s sucking your tongue past his own greedy lips. His cock slowly ruts in and out of your clenching hole as he kisses you breathless. Your fingers tangle in his rosary, tugging him back to your mouth every time he goes to pull away. 

Leon lets himself go; stops trying to control himself and settles into fucking into your warm, wet cunt with harsh skin slapping thrusts. He bites anywhere his mouth can reach, leaving dark bruises or even outright bloody teeth marks behind. His dark eyes keep track of your pleasure as well; if you wince, he makes sure to lathe his tongue across a bite instead of sinking his teeth into you again or fucks his cock shallowly into your pussy instead of knocking against your cervix how he likes. 

You reward him with pretty little cries and pleads against his lips; your doughy thighs clasped tightly around his waist as you beg for him to ruin your cunt. He wrings orgasm after orgasm until your body’s spent and you're babbling incoherently. 

He keeps you underneath him all night, trading blood tinged kisses as his cock stuffs your squelching pussy. Sunlight begins to stream through the snow tinted windows when he finally manhandles your body to straddle over him once again. 

Leon feels like this must truly be what heaven is like. You, seated in his lap as he buries his cock to the hilt in your hot little cunt watching as you grind down against him. Fat dimples between his fingers as he grips your ass tightly, helping you keep rhythm as he bounces you up and down his dick. 

“Oh Father Kennedy,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t—“

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs, easing your harsh grind into a slow back and forth, “you can give me one more so I can feel that pussy squeeze me so I can put a nice thick load in her.”

His fingers slowly circle and pinch your pudgy clit, letting you rock against him a little faster. 

“Oh, I’m-I’m g’nna,” you hiccup a sob, tears dripping from your eyes as he works your exhausted body towards another orgasm. 

“Call me, Leon,” he smiles at you, the first genuine one he’s actually offered to anyone in quite a long time, “now cum for me, squeeze me nice and tight.”

“Leon, Leon, I-I’m cumming,” you gasp out, a mewling cry slipping past your swollen lips as your pussy milks Leon’s cock for the upteenth time since this all started. 

“Good girl, so good for me,” he groans, letting your climax coax his own from him, grabbing your hips to hold you snug to him. 

He growls up at you, cock jumping inside your spasming pussy as rope after rope of sticky cum spurts inside your fluttering walls. 

 “Leon, oh, it’s so warm,” you whimper, one hand settling on your belly and the other resting on Leon’s heaving chest. 

“Fuck,” he yanks you down into a messy, spit filled kiss.

You whine and he softens it, titling his mouth up to press softer kisses to your lips until pulling away. Easing down next to him, you snuggle into his side, burying your face in his neck. 

“So am I forgiven now?” you tease, fingers tracing over the beads of his rosary. 

“Might need to spend some time with me in the confessional,” he presses a kiss to your hair, “just to make sure it takes.” 

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War Pt II

Summary: Warlord!Rhys takes his mate back to his mountain camp and Tamlin's!sister!Reader has to decide the best way to try and escape

Content Warnings: Morally Grey!Rhys, talks of violence

Part I

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We ride for hours. The first two riders I’d seen join us after the first; they too have wings, tucked tight against their backs. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to ask why they bothered with horses at all when they can simply fly, but thought better of it. The less I learn about them the better. All the easier to keep them in my mind as some faceless evil so I feel a little less guilty about putting an arrow in their eye when I escape. Rhysand has foolishly left me with my weapons, I'll put that mistake to good use when the time is right. 

By the third hour, we’ve left the bog and the forest behind, riding through what was once a sprawling plain but is now nothing but weeds. There is no magic left to keep this place fertile and thriving. Hybern’s Cauldron backed powers have stripped most of the land of its power, leaving ruin and famine behind in its wake. Little has managed to grow since, he’s been using the Cauldron to make sure a majority of the crops grow in his fields, where his slaves can tend them and ensure he gets the bulk of the harvest. There's nowhere to run out here.

Especially not when the rest of the riders regroup. There are twelve of them in total, all falling behind my captor as his great, midnight black stead takes the lead. 

I haven’t ridden a horse in a long time, could not afford to keep one, but the ones that I had, back in my youth, had never been this graceful. Even with my added weight the horse gallops like it has wings, swift as the wind, its blue-black mane trailing gracefully behind it. I almost don’t mind the ride, minus the circumstance and company, as the sun begins to set ahead of us, the sky a symphony of purple, orange and pink.

Eventually, we come to a river, flowing with large chunks of ice from a not yet frozen ice flow further upstream, where they stop to water their mounts. 

My captor dismounts first, large, gloved hands gripping my waist to help me down. By the Mother, his hands are so large against my hips! I’m suddenly very aware of my own size. 

“Don’t try and run,” he warns.

I glance around to my lack of escape routes and roll my eyes. “Darn, I was planning on throwing myself into the river.”

One of the others, the male I’d spotted first I think, snorts beneath his hood. 

Rhysand grunts out a warning before leading his horse to drink and filling a canteen he had tucked in his saddle bag. His back is, foolishly to me, I could easily draw my knife and stab him right here, but a quick glance around tells me that really would end with me taking a trip down the river. All his men carry swords and knives and there’s one with a wicked looking dagger strapped to his thigh; I barely reach the chin of the shortest among them, and that doesn’t account for at least a hundred pounds of muscle difference between us. I know that I have thinned, my ribs poking out beneath the heavy, hole ridden sweater. Some days I feel… brittle. Today especially. I’m not winning any fights against one of them, let alone twelve.

No, I just need to be smart. Wait for an opening, steal a horse, and run as far away as possible. So far, whatever this monster thinks I’m supposed to be to him has saved me from harm, I don’t plan on sticking around to see how long that protects me. Even if I did believe in mates-- as if the Mother ever cared enough about me to give me a soul tie to anyone--I’ve seen the worst in people enough to know it didn’t mean much in the end. What’s a mate but someone obligated to be a breeding mare? What’s a bond if not a magically induced aphrodisiac? I have little doubt that I’m actually safe here; just alive and conscious because it’s too much of a hassle to try and drag my limp body around.

My scheming comes to a grinding halt as Rhysand returns with the canteen, water sloshing the edge as he holds it out for me. It hasn’t occurred to me just how dry my mouth is until I see that water. 

Of course, I’m not going to let him know that. “No thanks.”

“I’m not going to poison you,” he returns.

“Poison's the least of my concerns,” I retort.

He grabs my hand and pushes the canteen into it. “Drink.”

“Bite me,” I snarl.

His men chuckle at that, which must upset him because his wings twitch behind him. He draws a deep breath before saying, “Ask nicely, mate.”

I should dump the water directly on his head, and my hand twitches around the canteen as I debate it, but in the end I decide against it. This male murdered half my family in cold blood, whatever thin amount of protection I might have remains only as long as he doesn’t think I’m a threat. To escape, I need to be smart.

On that subject, does he even know who I am? Does he remember riding into our camp that night, sword drawn, slaughtering my people as they jumped from their mats? Or were we just another blurred face in the mass of lives he’s taken in the name of conquest? He’s as bad as Hybern. Even if he has forgotten, I won’t.

I twist the lid back on without drinking anything, ignoring the way my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he growls as he takes it back and slides it into his saddle bag. There’s a rolled up sleep mat, a blanket, and another sword all tied neatly to that bag. Nothing too heavy, meaning their encampment can’t be far. I need to find a way to get away before they reach it; there will be too many eyes there.

“Your bow,” he says, holding out his hand. 

My hand tightens instinctively around the belt across my chest, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. “No.”

“You can’t ride into camp with them.”

“Great, then you can just leave me here.”

It takes him two steps to be back beside me, and I’m embarrassed to admit how easy it is for him to snag the strap and yank it over my head, despite my best efforts to keep that from happening. 

“Give that back!” 

“The knife can stay, as long as you don’t do anything stupid,” he says like I’m a misbehaving child. 

He keeps his back to me as he ties my bow and quiver up next to his second sword, my stomach rolling at the sight of my things next to his. 

Rhysand orders his men to mount up as he turns back to me, and I get the impression he’s looking me over for more weapons beneath the hood. I still have no idea what he looks like. Ugly and scarred, like most warlords are, I imagine. I’d never gotten a good look at him that night, had only seen those three stars on his hood and that giant sword between his wings, dripping blood. 

“You won’t need any weapons,” he says, in what sounds like it’s an attempt to be gentle, but falls flat. “You’re safe with me.”

I’d have been safer with the kelpie. But I don’t say it, I don’t say anything at all as those large hands lift me back onto the horse, or when he swings into the saddle behind me. I don’t say anything when we cross the river, icy water biting through my thin pants, making my teeth chatter, or when the wind whips relentlessly at us as we leave the grassy plains and head into the mountains. The chill feels like a thousand needles being jammed into my skin, but I will bear it silently. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing me weak; will not be gratified by any sort of conversation for the duration of our journey.

Or at least, that was the plan. 

“You’re shaking,” he says, one hand gripping the reins as he uses the other to slide his cloak off his shoulders and over mine.

The material is thick, lined with fur inside, so startlingly warm between his own body heat and the fur that when it settles over me I give a little sigh of relief. The sleeves are too big, swallowing my hands as I try to pull it more fully over my body. “Thanks.” It slips out of me before I can stop myself.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he replies as he settles around me again.

The smell of him, jasmine and citrus and the sea invades all my senses. I want, more than anything, to get it out of my nose, to keep the knowledge of him far, far away from me, but yet, despite my mind’s protests, my body burrows deeper into it. 

There’s still no encampment or settlement on the horizon, the horses moving deeper and deeper into the mountains as night falls around us. As long as we’re not stopping to make camp, I think I’ll survive. 

“And you haven’t told me yours.” If there must be a conversation, best I can do to buy myself time is steer all conversation away from me.

“I’ve had many names, but most call me Rhys.”

Most called him Death Incarnate amidst a number of things that would make a sailor blush, but I don’t think I’d ever heard anyone call him Rhys. That was entirely too normal. 

“Ok, Rhys,” it tastes like bile on my tongue, acknowledging him as anything other than the monster he has always been called back home. “Where are we going?”

The moon shines bright above us, illuminating the slender path we take through the mountains, a steep drop off on one side of us, nothing but sheer rock wall on the other. 

“Home,” he replies. 

I can’t help the scowl that escapes me, but at least he can’t see it. “And where is home exactly?”

“You’ll see soon,” he replies as he expertly guides his mount up a rocky path. There is no hesitation in his movements; he’s ridden this path many times.

I run a hand over my forehead. “I don’t remember coming this far out.” It slips out of me. If he knows this path then we’re close to the Illyrian borderlines, where his warband can make a semi-permanent encampment. These are grounds I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, nor did I think I was. 

“Where were you headed?” 

My brother’s made his claim through the Grasslands, the ground barely fertile to feed the livestock in the summer. With winter coming fast, he’d tried pushing his boundary lines into the forests near what had once been the Human Lands. I meant to go through the woods, skirting around Hybern’s slave camps and slip into the Uncharted Territories to find some game. I must have skirted too far past the slave camps when I’d lost my map running from those Highway Men.

“The Uncharted Lands,” I say because I honestly can’t come up with a lie that doesn’t make it look like I belong to Hybern or Amarantha. The boundaries between the warbands shift too often, encroaching too close. Sometimes I can barely tell who’s who and this is the only world I’ve ever known.

“Why?” He asks as we crest an incline and lead the men over a long, smooth plateau on the mountain’s western face. The wind is worse here, snapping at us like whips and before I can even burrow into my borrowed cloak, he’s drawing the hood of it over my head.

His arm tightens around my waist as he barks at his men to start riding single file. 

“Was looking for food.”

The horse’s hooves echo between the valley of rock beneath us as we press forward, the precariousness of our situation buying me time to figure out my lie. If I’m not hunting for my brother, what am I doing out here? It’s been a long day; a long week honestly. The rumbling of my stomach and the wind at my face and the warlord at my back seem to occupy the limited space in my quickly tiring mind. The hood of the cloak doesn’t help. It is embedded with some sort of magic, because even though it makes everything dark and warm, I can somehow see right through the fabric, right where that cluster of stars are, as if they’re eye slits. Magic items are rare these days, and expensive, I could probably buy out the Grassland’s market of deer jerky for this item alone.

Eventually the plateau dips, taking us down the other side of the mountain, into the misty canyon below. If I didn’t know where I was before, I really don’t now. Mountains are Illyrian territory, as forbidden and unwelcoming as the Imperial City Hybern had erected in The Middle centuries ago. I need to be paying attention so I know the way back; my eyes are sharp, sharper than most, I should be able to make out a deer path or trail easily, even in the dark, but my eyes are so heavy.

I give myself a little shake. Gotta be paying attention.

The swaying, even gate of the horse reminds me of being a small child, sitting in my mother’s rocking chair as she reads me to sleep. She and my father had always loved telling us stories, my father his made up theories and tales from the road, my mother her books and poems. I try to sit up and adjust my position in the saddle so I’m not slouching forward.

“You do not ride often,” Rhys says, his grip pulling me back more solidly against his chest, so I can feel all the hard planes of him. He’s got to be freezing without his cloak, even if he is still wearing long sleeves and gloves.

“No,” I bite back the rest of the story; how my people had suffered with the loss of my father. How Tam hadn’t been able to organize our survivors in the aftermath, how he’d been unable to store enough food for us that first winter and many of our rider’s had deserted. How he’d had to decide if keeping our stables full was worth the price of the lives hunger was stealing from us; how we’d been forced to eat and sell a few of them, my father’s prized war horse included. 

“We’ll change that,” he says, half to me, half to himself. “I think I like having my mate ride with me.”

I bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds. At least I’m awake now. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

The mist settles around us as we step into the valley, even as the path ahead becomes nearly invisible, he doesn’t slow or get down to walk the horse. He knows where he’s going, has done this so many times he could do it blind. A rare gift many of our traveling cities don’t receive. Envy swells in my chest. I have never had  a place secure enough to set up a permanent camp. The Grasslands are our borders sure, but we move through them daily in fear of an attack, keeping ourselves vigilant for whenever Hybern or Amarantha decide they want more than they’ve already taken from us. Always changing our paths, our camp layout, always moving. How come this monster gets this luxury and my people don’t? 

“You are so hesitant to give it,” he muses, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Do I know it already?”

Shit.

“No, that can’t be right. Our bond is too obvious, I would have remembered.”

He’s as clever as he is quick on his feet, unfortunately.

“So I will know you by association, is that it?”

I should just fling myself off the horse and try to lose myself in the mist. If I’m lucky, maybe one of his men will trample me by accident and this horrible nightmare will be over. At least, if I’m dead I will not have to explain my failure to Tam, or face the alternative of being this male’s breeding mare. Neither is a future I wish to meet.

It is only then that an alternative solution occurs to me.

Tam said I couldn’t come back without food; I’d made a nuisance of myself back home and had swiftly suffered the consequences of it, and with winter coming in fast, my brother has to know he sent me on a fool’s errand. Perhaps intending to keep me out of his way for a while; or to finally get me to bend the knee and submit to his authority as warlord. I hadn’t been of age to take father’s mark, and my allegiance had fallen through the cracks in the years after. Until I was integrated, Tam couldn’t marry me off, as I suspected he wanted to do often, and was probably using this opportunity to try and make me see reason. A future I also loathed to picture. Perhaps, if I played my cards right here, then I could find something more useful than a deer to bring back. If I played along with this little mates concept, what could Rhysand show me? Couldn’t I use any knowledge he gave to my advantage? Surely Tam would find other uses for me than marrying me off with this sort of leverage. My brother was known for his grudges, if I found a way to offer up his enemy on a silver platter, perhaps I’d never have to worry about being married off again.

My stomach twists as the plot plays out before my eyes: This fool taking me into the lands my people had never been able to access before, convincing him to let his guard down, to show me where his people were vulnerable. I could get my hands on camp movements or their supply lines; I could count the fighting men or the horses, make list after list to take back in the place of a few meals I know deep down I’d never be able to find before winter. 

My parents faces flash before my eyes. My mother, so gentle and…sad. She had been sad long before my birth, always missing a home she couldn’t go back to because of Hybern. But she had always tried to be there for me. To sing to me and hold me. She had been good and kind and if she knew where I sat now… what I thought I might do…

And my father. He was cruel and cold and I’d spent a long time wondering if he’d ever loved me at all, but he had been a good leader. He had inspired the men, even on days that had been bleak. He’d been willing to shed whatever blood was necessary to ensure the survival of my people. If this opportunity had been presented while he was alive, he would have tossed a collar around my neck and dragged me to Rhysand’s doorstep himself. 

As for Tamlin, well if he so much as saw Rhysand’s arm around my waist as it was now he would have torn him to shreds. He would hate it, but I think my brother was as calculating and ruthless as my father had been. His protective nature could be overruled by what he deemed necessary to keep us alive. 

I’d need to play my cards right, if I was to make this work. “Yes,” and I force my voice to a whisper, my shoulders hunching in feign defeat. I will have to find ways not to look so utterly revolted about this male touching me; will have to bury all my base instincts to run and claw and fight every time he calls me his mate. But I can do it.

I will do it. For vengeance. For my angel of a mother. For the survival my father died for. I’d damn myself a hundred times over for a chance Tam had never found. 

He rests his chin on my shoulder, thinking and it takes every inch of willpower I possess to not shrug him off. A few hours together and this prick thinks he can just touch me so casually? As if I have no say in the matter because he is my mate and therefore owed whatever affection he sees fit to grant me?

“You can tell me, I promise I won’t hold it against you,” his voice is… gentle. Far more gentle than a man in his position should be and I have no idea how to respond to it. 

“My name is Y/N,” I saw softly, like I’m scared the wind will hear me. “Tamlin is my older brother.”

He stiffens behind me and I find myself holding my breath. This is it.

“He never mentioned he had a sister,” he says more to himself than me.

I almost audibly let loose a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, well he isn’t too fond of me at the moment.” Never mind I didn’t know that he and Tamlin had ever talked on a mutual basis. Sometimes, usually over a mutually beneficial wedding ceremony, did rival camps come together and exchange weapons, food and sometimes training. If I remember correctly, I think there might have been times when we’d done so with the Illyrians, but never did Tam mention that he knew Rhysand personally. Rhysand was always a name whispered like a curse, as if saying it too loud would bring death and destruction upon us. 

“He sent you out here? Alone?” That last bit comes out like a growl.

“Banished, is more of the term he used,” I say under my breath, hoping the tone conveys embarrassment. 

“For what?” He hisses, his tone promising violence. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Now what would convince Death Incarnate that I was something meek and fragile and in need of protection from my big, bad brother? If we really were mates, it would be in his nature to want to protect me, from both physical and emotional harm, but I needed to be careful. Too extreme a lie and I was likely to restart the war between our camps that had cost me my parents. I needed something to pack enough punch to convince him he needed to keep me close, to be looked after, but not so bad that it sparked a fight.

Perhaps my best bet was to appeal to the bond. “He wants me to take his mark,” I twist the sleeves of the cloak between my fingers as I speak. “So he can reap the benefits of marrying me off to one of Autumn’s commanders.”

Rhysand has gone still as death itself behind me and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s on fire as whatever dark power lives within his skin comes to life. All my instincts scream at me to run, hide.

“But Eris is… cruel and I told Tam I couldn’t do it.” Eris was probably too old for Tam to try, but there had been talks, even when I was a girl, about how my father had wanted an alliance with Autumn, and Eris had his own history with the Illyrians. “He told me I needed to sort out my priorities and when I didn’t, he threw me out.”

“That’s just like him,” Rhysand snarls.

I bite down on my tongue to keep from snarling all the things I’d rather say in my brother’s defense. 

“How long have you been out here on your own?”

“About a week, I think,” I could say longer, but on the off-chance he has spies that could check that sort of thing--and I’m fairly certain the stories about Illyrians and their shadow agents are not far off--I’d rather play it safe. 

He brings his mount to a brief halt as two, looming carvings in the mountain’s face appear through the fog. The touring statues sporting the same great, talon tipped wings as Rhysand, stand guard over the pass ahead of us, their hewn sword held aloft. Sleeping wyverns lay at the base of each statue, their carefully carved eyes at eye level with us as the men fall in line behind us. The air is tinged with magic--overly sweet and oppressive-- as we approach, some sort of shield.

“From here,” he says softly in my ear, the mask still shielding the lower half of his face from the wind rough against my cheek. “You’ll never have to worry about being alone again.”

I’m going to be sick!  Play it safe. Play the game. For Tam. For Mom and Dad. I will myself to picture their faces again, to keep reminding myself what is at stake. 

Rhysand kicks the horse into motion again, passing through the shield with a flick of his gloved hand, soft ripples of magic parting for us like someone had pulled back a curtain. I’ve never seen anyone use magic so casually, so fluidly. Once all the riders have passed through, I feel the shield fall back into place behind us. No turning back now.

Ahead, the path begins to widen. At the far end of the path, still shrouded on either side by the mountains, sit two torches, the light guiding the way. When we reach them, the path dips dangerously into a valley, all filled with large, midnight black tents. More torches and bonfires light the cloth city, the sounds of drum beats and revelry beckoning from beneath us.

“I see the party started without us,” one of the men says from behind us.

“Devlon must have had a good run,” Rhysand muses as he takes us down into the valley. 

As the lights draw closer, I can start to make out the tribal markings and depictions sewn into the sides of the tents. There’s singing to go with the drum beats, all in a language that makes no sense to me, just like the markings. Something from the Mountains none of my people had ever been privy to. 

When we reach the outskirts of the city, we are greeted by two towering males, wearing little other than loose, dark paints and a smattering of blood red paint along their bare chests and faces. Each holds a spear, a dagger strapped to their muscled thighs. 

One barks something at Rhysand in Illyrian, his slate colored gaze fixed on me, still wearing the lord’s cloak. I’m grateful they cannot see my face, the fear I know will be clear in my eyes. It is hard enough to hide the trembling in my hands.

Rhysand dismounts to greet them, still speaking in Illyrian until they retreat into the maze of tents beyond. Despite the raucous laughter and music coming from the center, the rows of tents are organized into clear streets and sectors, some dancing bodies visible in between the rows, though most of the camp seems to be in its heart at the moment. 

He runs a gloved hand over the horses neck as he turns to face the men, their mounts dancing beneath them. “We will strategize in the morning.”

That is apparently dismissal enough, as his men bow their heads and kick their steads into motion around the outskirts of camp, soon disappearing into the darkness. My stomach drops as I realize I’m alone with my enemy for the first time all night. My anxiety only heightens as he takes the reins and guides the horse forward without a word of where we’re going.

I’m too scared to ask either.

Staying on the edge of camp means I cannot see any of what is happening within, though I glimpse bonfires and revelry often enough to guess. It is not unlike our own celebrations, even if the music is different.

Rhysand still doesn’t speak as we pass another group of sentries and head up a well worn path in the heart of the valley. The grass is lush here, would be up to his knees were it not for the cleared stretch lined by torches. It is quieter here, the music distant.

Overhead, the stars glitter like a million little diamonds, all the constellations I have memorized a stark contrast to the dark shadows of this hidden mountain world. We’re surrounded on all sides by mountains, shielded from view and harm by stone. It is so different to the rolling hills I am used to, it is nice to know that the stars, at least, have not changed.

The path leads to a secluded circle of larger tents, still black but stitched with stars not unlike the ones on the cloak I’m still wearing.

We pass yet another group of sentries as we approach, and only once we’re face to face with the largest tent in the circle does Rhysand finally stop.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

I should have run. Should have thrown myself into the river. Should have risked a quick death trying to fight my way out of this than subjecting myself to this.

Rhysand grabs my waist again and lifts me off the horse as if I weigh nothing. Compared to his size, I’m sure I do. In the torchlight, this is the first time I’ve managed to glimpse his face. I’d been drastically wrong about his appearance. The monster that haunted my nightmares was not some old, scarred thing as I had pictured, I wasn’t sure he was even older than Tam. A young lord, his features sharp, but clean cut. Some of his raven black hair fell loose around his sun kissed face, framing a set of violet eyes so bright they practically glittered like stars in his head, the rest was braided with strands of blue and purple thread. By far the most beautiful male I’d ever seen in my life and I think I hate him a little more for it. 

“You must be tired,” he says finally.

I don’t know what to do or say, so I just nod, which I think might be a mistake because now we’re heading inside the tent and all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears because I have made a terrible mistake!

By some magic trick, torches flair to life as we enter, the soft orange glow cast in eerie patterns against the sleek black leather walls. On one side of the tent is a bed large enough to accommodate someone with such massive wings, piled with furs and pelts of various animals. On the other end, a table with some chairs and various weapons and books and trinkets scattered about the top of it. There’s chests piled in the corner, locked and dusty like they haven’t been opened since they’d been moved in. The floor is covered in a dozen different rugs, all overlapping in an attempt to make the place feel cozier but the patterns and colors are all so different that it looks like a whacky patchwork quilt. Clearly a layout chosen by a male.

“I apologize for the mess,” he begins as he takes off the scarf tied around the lower half of his face and places it over the back of a chair. “I… was not expecting to come across anybody out there, let alone bringing anyone back.”

“What were you doing out there?” My voice shakes too much for my liking and I’m convinced I asked that far too quickly to not be totally obvious, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Scouting,” he says with no further explanation as he tosses his gloves onto a heap of more gloves on the edge of the table. 

My muscles stiffen as I watch him warily. If he starts undressing I might really change my mind and try to run for it.

I am prepared to do what is necessary for my people, but that is a line I cannot cross yet. Not tonight.  

He steps closer to where I stand dumbly in the center of the room, drowning in his cloak, and he nudges the hood off my face with his knuckles. 

I have to remind myself to stop biting my lip as the fabric slides off my head. Even fully clothed, standing this close to him, with those violet eyes drinking me in like that, I feel very exposed and vulnerable. 

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hand drifting down the side of my cheek.

I hate that I shiver under his touch. Hate that my eyes go to his full lips and how soft they look in this torchlight. I hate that I find him beautiful, hate that I do not pull away as he cups my cheek. I hate myself for putting myself in this position in the first place. 

“I…” this is not an act, I really don’t know what to do or say here. My chest aches with the way he’s looking at me, like maybe there really is some strange, mystical thread linking us together and it’s coming awake the more he has his hands on me. Yet my mind balks and screams all the same and I cannot tell which of them is supposed to help me do this. “This is a lot.”

“There’s no need to be afraid,” he assures, his voice low and husky, a tone I think might be better suited to the bedroom. “You are safe with me.”

Safe.

As if he could ever make me feel safe.

His thumb rubs circles in my cheek, the calluses along his palm from years of sword play scratching pleasantly across my skin. Violet eyes rove over me, studying the plains of my face like he’s cataloging every detail. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

I let loose a breath as he heads back to the tent flap, where his horse is still waiting.

“For now, it would be best if you stay here. Don’t go anywhere without me. At least, not until you take my mark.”

And then he’s gone, finally leaving me alone for the first time in hours, but even if I wanted to do some snooping, I can’t. All I can do is stand there as my stomach rises in my throat. 

His mark.

How the hell was I supposed to go home bearing Rhysand’s mark? 

I rub my temples with my fingertips. I need to find something useful to take back to Tamlin and get out of here fast, because if I don’t, I may never be allowed to go home again.

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

Tag List: @judig92, @randomperson1234sblog, @nyxbranwenn, @lilah-asteria, @barb00235, @landofpetrichor

Let me know if you would also like to be added to the Tag List! I have a good couple of chapters planned :)

[badasmuse]

“Drunk and Possessive”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+(MDNI), language, drunk!bada, possessive!bada, lowercase intended, violence, suggestive if you squint, name calling (from outsiders), no relationship (yet)

Summary: bada takes you to a party and man she’s never been more angry.

A request so no song

bada has had a crush on you for so long. she’s your best friend and has been since you met on the playground after some little asshole was bullying you so she kicked sand in her face. even tho there’s six years between you two, you don’t let it bother you. you’re still besties for the resties.

but despite being able to read her like a book, you’re completely oblivious to her so disgustingly obvious crush. she’d do anything for you. literally anything. she proved that when one time you were walking in the park and thought it would be funny to go, “i bet you won’t grab that squirrel.” big mistake on your end cause the mf went and grabbed the squirrel and it bit her.

“you’re a fucking idiot why would you grab the squirrel?” you said driving her to the hospital.

“you told me to.” she said pouting, holding her bleeding hand close to her chest.

you’ve also had a crush on bada for awhile but you hide it from everyone. you didn’t think you were her type. you weren’t a dancer, you don’t have any real talent, you’re an art major but you don’t even think you can draw that well. (even tho you’re absolutely amazing to anyone else. especially bada.)

speaking of bada and art, you just left ceramics class, your last class of the day, and guess who’s outside with your favorite biggby drink and a soft pretzel.

“hey.” bada says softly as you approach her.

“you don’t understand how bad i needed this.” you say throwing your bag in the backseat and hugging bada tight, planting a light kiss on her cheek before taking the coffee and pretzel.

bada blushes and opens the door for you, grabbing your arm to help you in. “i don’t understand how you wear those heels.” she mumbles before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.

“i wear them to match your height. you’re too tall.”

she chuckles and starts driving. “you wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

“what i tell you about this last minute shit bada?” you say rolling your eyes.

“i know i know a week in advance. but like.. you’re not doing anything. might as well come.” she says pinching your cheek.

“i guess so.” you groan. “fine i’ll go. what time? what should i wear?”

“whatever you want.” bada pulls into the lot of your shared apartment and obviously goes around to open the door for you grabbing your hand to help you out.

“bada you’re such a gentleman.” you giggle going to grab your bag but she beats you to it.

“come on, angel.” she says walking behind you with a hand on your back. like she always does.

a few hours later, you’re out the shower and standing in front of the mirror wondering what to wear. you have two options and you don’t want to ask bada cause man- that woman is no help. none at all.

you settle on the short black dress and pair it with ankle boots, obviously heeled. you do a quick smokey eye look to match the dress and finally put it on pouting as you reach for the zipper but it’s just out of reach, barely touching your fingertips.

“bada~” you call out, the pout evident in your voice.

“yes?” she walks in fully dressed looking like a tall glass of water and all of a sudden, you’re thirsty.

but you’d never say that.

“can you zip this for me?” you give her doe eyes knowing she wouldn’t say no in the first place but they add character.

she walks behind you and gently pulls the zipper up and man the electricity that went through you when her long fingers brushed against your back.

“you look good.” bada comments looking at you through the mirror.

“thanks i’m hoping to find someone tonight. hopefully a relationship but a hookup is just as good.”

bada’s jaw clenches and she clears her throat, “let’s go.” she mumbles walking downstairs to get her shoes and keys.

you follow her grabbing your shoes and blushing when bada kneels to put them on for you and zip them up.

like girl how can you not see she in love with you???

———

once you arrive at the party, bada immediately goes to get a drink. you follow and pull her down so she can hear you, “don’t drink too much bada.” you whisper and she just nods.

you get yourself a drink and leave to find someone to dance with. you find yourself in the middle dancing with a group of people.

bada watches, standing next to lusher and tatter with a pout on her face.

“you know,” lusher starts, “if you just told her you love her she wouldn’t be all over them she’d be all over you.”

“if she feels the same way.” tatter added which she immediately regretted cause if looks could kill… yeah.

time passes and bada has had way too many. she can barely stand up straight and her speech is beyond slurred, she’s practically incoherent. not to mention her vision is incredibly blurry.

despite all that, she does see the guy that approaches you and starts dancing with you. you’re having a great time and bada is pissed.

she pushes herself off the wall and stumbles over to you and the guy. “hey.” she slurs separating you two.

“bada what are you doing?” you ask holding onto her as she slings her arm around you.

“she’s my girlfriend. back.. back off.” she says pushing the guy back.

“she’s been dancing with everyone in here.”

“mhm and i’m putting a stop to it. she’s mine. fuck off.”

“go ahead keep her. but in my opinion, if she’s gonna act like a whore i’d just pass her off.” he shrugs.

that sobered bada right up.

she runs a hand down her face, cocks her arm back, and swings. hitting the man full force in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“BADA!” you yell, barely able to hold her anymore. you quickly drag her outside and make her sit down on the curb. “what is your problem?” you ask, inspecting her hand.

“my problem? you. you’re my problem. you’re so fucking… oblivious. i’m in love with you and you’re constantly flirting with other people and sleeping with other people. you’re mine. i don’t want anyone else touching you the way i should be touching you!” bada grabs your hand and drags you towards her car.

“what are you doing?” you whispered.

“showing you that you’re mine.”

part 2 maybe?