#some quality collarbone content as well

[kindahoping4forever]

Alpharetta, make some noise

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Alibi

⚜ Pairing: human!Alastor X reader

⚜ Content notes: Reader is a sex worker, Alastor is a serial killer, brief reference to domestic abuse and injury, explicit sexual content, reader is a woman, reader has a pussy, bathtime, cum pooling in the collarbones, the sex is transactional but not like that

⚜ Wordcount: 4.5k

Only about half the men who come to the bordello come for sex. Those are the easier half. The simpler half. The guys who will be happy as a pig in muck to have a girl who squeals real pretty and a wet hole to fuck.

The other half are complicated. Guys need things other than sex. Some of them want someone to talk to, someone to listen to them and unfurrow their brows. Some of them want someone to hold, someone who doesn't flinch and look away when they cry. Some of them have other lovers, men or women, and they use the whorehouse to hide their affairs, paying for you and the room and sending you away to play cards downstairs at the bar.

Then there's Al. Al for Alibi.

He’s a sharply dressed whiplash of a man, a sweet, charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, but this is Storyville- everybody and his brother is a charming guy who plays a mean jazz piano, so that doesn’t set him apart. No, what sets him apart is a quality that you struggle to describe. It’s something like grit, you think. Al’s got the eyes of someone who has found themselves sitting in the dirt at the bottom of a well and decided to dig themselves out. He talks like he’s about to sell you the golden gate bridge, and he dances like a man possessed, and again there are plenty of men like that in New Orleans, but none of them have that same look in their eyes. You like him a whole lot.

You keep a spare set of clothes for him, in the bottom of the tea chest at the end of your bed. He always picks you, always picks your room- it's the one with the biggest bathtub and the window with the trellised wisteria beneath it he can climb down. You don’t know why it’s you he picks, but your guts tell you it’s something to do with the red flannel bag you keep on your dresser, the one with grave dirt, dahlia petals and a deer’s tooth in it. His eyes linger longer than a man not initiated, and later you notice he’s got his own- a faded little bag in his pocket.

He always brings you flowers, as if he has come to your parents’ house as a suitor and not to your room at the bordello, and kisses you once, on the cheek, before he changes clothes and climbs from the window. It makes you feel some kinda way when it really shouldn’t; you’re no blushing girl at a cotillion ball but a grown woman fucking men to pay her rent. The sensation of a man’s lips against your cheek shouldn’t linger like this does, a phantom on your skin long after the wisteria has stopped shaking.

When he comes back it's hours later, bloody and wide-eyed, grinning from ear to ear, trembling with adrenaline from whatever it is he's done. His eyes say he’s still in the well; still trying to dig upwards, and it stirs a feeling in your chest that is either pity or envy or both.

You don't ask him where he's been, or what he's done. That's not your job. Your job is to run a warm bath for him, and help him out of his bloody, torn clothes. Your job is to get the soap he likes, the scent in the water he likes, and help him into the tub. Your job is to hold his long, elegant hands in yours as you meticulously clean the blood from under his fingernails, his nailbeds. Your job is to help him down from his quivering maniac high, to stroke the tension from the muscles in his thin shoulders and bring his face to your chest.

Your job isn’t to desire him, but somehow he always manages to stir that part of you too. Even after a day when you’ve been touched too much he is beautiful, all long lines and sharp angles, leaning into your touch but never demanding it. The first few times you bathe him you hope that it might turn into something more, that he might rise from the waters of the tub and ask to know you biblically, but it doesn’t happen, so you content yourself, pitifully, to pleasing yourself after to the memory of the planes of his back, or the feel of his hair through your fingers as you shampoo him.

When you’re done bathing him he allows you to wrap one of the bordello’s fluffy towels around him, and he lies on the bed, his head in your lap, looking up at you as his breathing slows. He likes to talk, just like all men like to talk, and Al talks big. He talks jazz, about the musicians he’s seen and the ones he’s played cards with with. Who he’s had on his show, who he wants on his show. Sometimes he talks like he’s selling himself, like he’s one of the girls downstairs in the bar on a long and unfruitful night and you’re a big spender who just walked in. It’s not so uncommon that a guy comes in trying to impress a girl, but from him it’s downright charming. It’s not like he’d even have to try to get your panties off, but what he wants from you is approval. Your undivided attention. He’s paying, so you give it.

You stroke his hair and tell him how well he’s doing, how his momma would be proud, and he nods like he wants to believe you, but his eyes don’t change. He’s still staring like he’s got his back to cold earth and his face to distant, untouchable stars.

One night you have a bruise on your face from your boyfriend, covered with powder and rouge but the swelling still visible, and he wants to know who has done this to you. Most guys know better than to ask this kind of thing; you’re a whore, after all, and violence is a hazard of the workplace, but Al is persistent.

For once, he doesn’t leave through the window to climb down the wisteria, instead sitting on the bed with you, one long thin arm round your plush waist. Asking who did this, who did this. His voice is sweet as brown sugar, the same darkness underpinning it, as his accent drifts, from bright, clipped wireless polish to something lower down in his register, something more recognizably local. For once in your relationship Al wants something from you, something more than an open window and an alibi for his nocturnal hobbies.

“Tell me, chouchoute.” Al’s mean jazz piano fingers trail the line of your jaw to your chin, his index finger curling beneath to lift your face to his. There’s something more in his soulful brown eyes now, more than the look of a man deep in the hole. There is hunger. Desire.

You feel your mouth grow dry, feel the pulse in your neck. To be wanted by him, in whatever way that is, is a feeling with an intoxicating potency. You like sex well enough, but sex is work. Being touched by him feels like a genuine seduction, the sort that sets your skin feverish and lips chapped from kissing.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” you say. You know you’re right. Telling a customer about your personal issues is not something that ends well for people like you. Guys get involved. Guys get attached. Guys get violent.

“Oh? You shouldn’t?” His eyes are fixed on yours. He smiles like a wolf. “Are you worried about what I might do, once I know?”

The problem is, you want him involved. You want him attached. Frozen under his gaze, you think of the blood under his fingernails. He’s already violent. Every night he’s steeped in red, whiplash thin body sharp and manic. But your boyfriend is a bigger guy than him. You don’t want Al getting hurt. “Would you promise not to do anything, if I told you?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Al gives a huff of laughter. “Let’s make a deal,” he says, his eyes still hungry, his hand still on your face. “You give me what I want, and I take you to heaven tonight. You hear the angels sing as many times as you want. Sound good?”

From most of your customers, you would dismiss an offer like this as male ego. Boastfulness. But Al’s slender fingers give you goosebumps as they trail down over your windpipe, telling you he’s good for it.

Al doesn’t wait for your answer, but he does kiss you, all sweet and soft and romantic, like he’s your sweetheart and you’re on a date, enough to make you melt into him. You don’t usually kiss clients, and it takes you off-guard, his honeyed tongue sweeter than his words as it strokes against yours, still selling his offer. His long musician’s fingers are going to curl inside you and his cock is going to be hot, silk-sheathed steel against your skin and just the thought of that makes you ache for him. You moan against his tongue and his lips twitch against yours, smiling.

“Well?” he says, though he knows your answer. He’s just offered you something that far outweighs the value of what he’s asking. A night of his attention, all for a name.

“Payment up front,” you say, drunk on his touch already.

“Clever girl,” says Al, and from anyone else that would feel damn patronizing, but out of his sly smile it makes you want more.

He undresses you, which isn’t exactly hard- you pick your costumes as things that can easily be slipped off and tossed to the floor, but Al drags his mouth against the skin of your neck, your back, your shoulder, slow, sucking kisses that aren’t quite hard enough to leave marks, but feel like they might. His isn’t a sloppy, desperate gambit, but a studied one, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your face. Fuck, you want him to take you, want him so much that it makes your guts ache with it. You want him to throw you on the bed, point your toes to the ceiling and make you see stars, but he’s not a man to be rushed.

He’s there to taste you, to breathe in your breath. He’ll be everything you ever wanted him to be, if you’ll only let him.

When he loosens his tie it’s with a coquettish tilt of his head, and you can tell he likes being watched. Al slows the process down for you, undoing buttons with a studious slowness, twirling each sleeve garter once around his finger as he removes it before tossing it to the side. When he takes off his belt, he winds it once round each of his palms and snaps it tight, mouth twitching when you startle at the noise. Hurry up, you want to tell him, but watching him is just too damn fun. When he’s down to vest, boxer shorts, socks and sock garters, the point at which most men look ridiculous, he gives you a sultry look and stalks over to the bed where you are sitting, your legs off the edge. With a haughty flick of his head, he plants one arched foot on the mattress between your knees, toes first, and leans forward onto that knee, his face perilously close to yours. You run your hands down his leg, from his knee to the garter for his sock, and he catches your mouth in a light, teasing kiss.

You undo the clasp on the garter, pulling it down along with the sock, and stroking the long, lean, line of his calf. He makes a noise in his throat that’s almost a purr, and breaks the kiss as he steps out of the sock entirely and switches legs. You take more time with the second garter, not least because the position gives you a view of Al’s boxer shorts. He’s hard for you, the small white buttons on his fly straining to hold back the length of his cock, and the sight makes your mouth water.

Al pushes you back, climbing on top of you, and his legs straddle your waist as you slide your hands up his thin sides, hooking your thumbs under the hem of the ribbed cotton of his vest and pushing it up over his chest. He has a hungry frame, not a scrap of softness to be found, just the stark plane of his stomach and the ridges of his ribs under your fingers. It suits him, matches the hunger in his eyes, the hunger that you see flickering when he peels the vest off over his head and tosses it to one side. You press your hands up to his sternum, feeling his heartbeat, and he closes one hand over them, smiling down at you as he frees his cock from its confines with the other. He’s uncut, his tip a deep fuchsia pink and weeping, and all you can think about when you see it is how he will feel against you. How he will taste. How it will feel to have him wedged deep in your cunt.

Happily, Al obliges on the first count, leaning down to kiss you, the tip of his cock pressing warm against the softness of your stomach. You kiss more, rolling, shifting, your fingers in his hair, his roving over the contours of your back, until you are side by side on the bed, skin to skin.

You love his cock. You love the hot, turgid weight of it against your hand, your stomach, your thigh. The way he beads with wetness at his tip, the trail he leaves against your skin like a proof of desire. To feel Al press it against you is a surge of warmth to the bottom of your spine, a building pulse between your legs. He’s not even seeking egress, just sliding that silky solidity over your skin in an act that has you feeling completely and utterly wanted. You touch him, stroking your palm up over his shaft, and he allows himself to groan, rutting into your hand and against your body all at once.

You shuffle up the bed a little, until your nose is level with his collar, then hook one leg over his hip, parting yourself with one hand as you guide his cock with another, so that he rests between your inner lips. He rolls his hips in a slow, considered motion, and it is you who are sloppy; slick with arousal and reckless with desire.

The noise in Al’s throat is a pleased growl, his hand sliding round over your hip. He’s not trying to get inside, not really, just enjoying the sensation of you rolling your hips so that his cock grazes your clit and entrance in turn. He stills your hip with his hand, mirroring your motion with a roll of his hips that has him rutting through the boat of your labia. There’s a purr in your throat at the feel of him, hot satin sheathed steel.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, chouchoute.” Al’s sugar laden bedroom voice brings you back to the present, the vibration of it palpable with your face against his narrow chest. He doesn’t stop rolling his hips though, something for which you are grateful as the zenith of each arc brings new pleasurable sensation.

You speak against his skin, and it’s harder to talk dirty to him than with another client, even now with his cock rutting between your lips. “You could make me come like this,” you say, face hot, and hear his soft groan in response.

“Would you like that?” he asks, his cock sliding between your legs again, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever heard. You don’t even say yes, just press your face open mouthed against his chest and shoulder. You feel his soft huff of laughter, his grip on your hip tightening as he angles a little more perfectly, and the long roll of his hips becomes a movement that is tighter and more focused, a back-and-forth that brings a cry unbidden from your lips.

You are swearing, soft and sweet against his skin as he grinds an orgasm from you, the tip of his cock kissing your entrance as his shaft presses firm into your clit. It’s like his lips on your cheek, a sensation that’s going to linger like a phantom in your body long after Alastor himself has left. It’s more than the exquisite sensation, each nerve ending alight, but the knowledge of his desire; his long fingers gripping the flesh of your hip and the groan from his chest as he feels you tremble, orgasm close.

“Fuck,” you breathe, as you feel yourself fall, your hole fluttering around nothing, the entirety of your core seeming to pulse in time. Al tilts your chin up, pulling your face from his skin, and kisses you while you’re still in the middle of it. There is nothing needy in his lips and the touch of his tongue. Rather than an entreaty his mouth is a gift. His hand on your cheek is a gift, his hand on your hip is a gift. And his cock, its weeping tip brushing your entrance. That will be yours, too, as soon as you say the word.

His touch is a flame that laps at firewood, and you bathe yourself in it, pressing your quivering body against his, your softness against his hungry lines. Another kiss, another roll, and you are pulling him atop you, face to face, his knees between your legs. Another man would be in you to the hilt now, but Al is polite to a fault. Patient, he waits for your hands on his hips, your legs hooking around the back of his knees.

You kiss him as you pull him inside you, your hands on his narrow ass as you feel the cry the act pulls from his chest, the shiver that runs down his back. His cock is everything that it promised, filling your cunt with its weight and heat, but what’s more is that it’s his. More delicious than the sensation of him moving inside you is his response; the way his grip on you tightens, his mean jazz piano fingers no longer playing a melody but merely a rhythm that matches the beating of your heart, the way his hips twitch for you, his breath catching, and the way he moans soft against your lips.

When he opens his eyes they are unfocused; for the first time since you first met him they don’t have the look of a man in a hopeless kind of pit. They are the eyes of a man lost in the moment, in your moment. Al is a gift, and your heart tells you to treasure him.

“You feel so good inside me,” you tell him, and it’s no professional courtesy, but an honest and unvarnished truth, words spilling out of you as his cock pushes in. Then Al lifts your legs to get himself deeper, and you are the one who is lost. There’s no artistry to the fuck, but it’s not needed, not with your cunt still tender from your first orgasm and your toes pointing to the ceiling. The sensation is strong enough that it threatens to overwhelm, the metronome of Al’s hips drawing note after tremulous note from your voice box, and the feel of him is sublime. He puts a hand on your mons, thumb stroking your clit, and the sensation of that is something you would willingly succumb to forever. It’s his name on your lips as you orgasm round his cock, and he grins down at you, teeth white as fresh-starched shirt collars.

“You’re enjoying me so far, chouchoute?” he asks, fingers tracing the contours or your cheek, the contours of your bruises.

“Al.” You pause to kiss his fingers, an aftershock that you’re sure that both of you feel running through you. “You are a wonder of a man.”

“Someone’s good at flattery,” he says, a gentle kiss to your lips, but he’s not so good an actor that you can’t see he’s proud of himself, proud of the state he’s got you in, all boneless and glowing.

“But what about you?” you ask, a hand down his warm side, to his hip. “You’re just gonna make me go again and again, and nothing for you?”

“It’s a change of pace for you,” he says, and he pulls out of you, leaving you achingly, tragically empty.

“Who’s to say I don’t enjoy seeing a man satisfied?” you say, your hand finding his gleaming cock, drenched in your slick, and squeezing. Al breathes out, slow and shaky, lowering his face to yours.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, lips against your ear, voice low in his register. “I can spend myself over you, then attend you again as you lie covered in my regards.”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice higher than you intend, and he closes his hand over yours around his cock, nudging you supine as he pumps the shaft. His weeping slit smears against the skin of your stomach at the nadir of each stroke, and you can feel the state of him under your fingers, still slick with your juices. How he swells, harder and hotter, his grip forcing yours firmer until at last he spills himself, a line up your stomach and chest. His breath is unsteady as his cock pulses in your hand, and he strokes a hand up your body, smearing his seed into your skin.

“Now you,” Al says, a little breathless as he crawls backwards over your body, soft kisses in places his cock has marked. His long fingers find your sex, parting your lips and drawing slick across your folds. “How would you like to climax next, chouchoute? My fingers? My mouth?”

“Your mouth?” you repeat, heat spreading through your core. Even here in Storyville, there are not many men willing to kiss a whore’s cunt.

Al’s smile widens, showing teeth, and you realize belatedly that with his fingers between your folds he can feel the surge of wetness that seeps from you at the mere thought. “I think you like that idea,” he says, and he pushes two long fingers inside you.

He fucks his fingers in and out of you, and you bite your lip as you feel him start to press against spongy tissue. Girls make jokes about musicians and their fingers, but you know firsthand that the finest musician in the world isn’t much use if he doesn’t know the instrument. If a guy doesn’t know the curve of your walls, to smear slick up and over the hood of your clit, it doesn’t matter a damn how well he can play the steel guitar.

Al can play a woman’s body well enough to hit the high notes. His fingers curl and drag, and the noise the action brings from you was one you didn’t know you could make. There are tears in your eyes from the intensity of it, and it is all you can do not to beg him for more. All the while he moves down your body, his mouth soft over the skin of your chest, your stomach, your hips. His breath is hot, even in the summer evening heat, and Al is smiling all the while, glancing back up at you to see your expression.

You wonder what you look like to him as his breath graces your inner thighs, his lips brushing teasingly on the fragile skin there. Are you a thing of beauty, to be treasured and worshiped, or merely a needy wretch, trembling and panting, each movement tantamount to begging for his touch? Perhaps both. He curls his fingers inside you once more as his tongue touches hot and slick against your overwrought clitoris.

You had expected his cock, wanted his cock, but to feel his mouth on you is something else. It is bliss. Pure, untrammeled bliss. He leaves you with nothing but sensation, the flat of his tongue pressing, laving, until it becomes too much and you want to cry out, then the seal of his lips on your slick, engorged flesh, a little suction, a noise of appreciation in his throat. You stop watching, surrendering fully, his long fingers hitting a sweetness as his tongue strokes on bliss. There are no thoughts in your head anymore, only his touch. Your hips are bucking, uncontrolled, your fingers in his hair, and still he gives, his honeyed tongue sweeter than even his words had been.

It’s with a broken cry that you cum on his fingers, and he stills for you, breath hot on the lips of your cunt, fingers still inside you as you tremble and quake.

He crawls up your body again, folding your limp form in his long, thin arms, a pleased hum in his chest.

“You’re satisfied with my end of the bargain, I hope?” he asks, and it’s not a mercenary question from him, paired as it is with a kiss to the top of your head.

The notion of proposing marriage to him swims through your sex-addled brain before you remember that jobs are thin on the ground in Louisiana right now and you have rent to pay. You swallow down romance and sentiment, which is difficult with those arms around you, but you manage it. “You best not set up shop here,” you say. “The girls downstairs would be spending their whole night’s earnings for just a couple minutes with you.”

“That’s a good thing, surely.”

“They’d make themselves destitute.”

You feel his thin chest shake as he gives a soft bark of laughter, but there’s relief in there too, and gratitude. He holds you a little tighter, longer than he needs to. You let yourself enjoy it.

“The name?” he asks, when that moment of softness has passed.

“Elijah,” you say. “My boyfriend.”

“Former boyfriend, I’d hope,” says Alastor, pointedly. He has the hungry look in his eyes again, the look like he’s trapped and digging his way out. The look you like.

You touch your face, where the bruise is swelling beneath your makeup. “Sure looks like it’s going that way, yeah.”

Alastor leaves by the window that night. You fold his clean clothes and put them in your tea chest, in case he comes back, his little sleeve garters and his ribbed cotton vest and all of it, smelling faintly of him. He doesn’t return.

The next morning, when you go back to the rented room that you share with your boyfriend, there’s no sign of him, either.

[moechies]

Ur fav guy fucking his mom pls pls

౨ৎ ⋆ take it, mommy ! ꨄ shidou ryusei ꒰ DARK CONTENT ꒱

sypnosis: grimy shidou fuckin' his mommy :(

content warnings 𝜚 𓈒 1.4k words ꒱ ince$t, yandere themes, pwop, tons of kissing, groping, no prep, creampie, whiny needy ryu, name usage including . . mommy, mama

“ryusei ! get off me!”

“no.. i love you, love y’so much mommy. missed you soo much.” he purrs against your warm skin. his heavy body lays atop of you, keeping you still below him as he grabs at your face and pressing sloppy kisses anywhere he deems possible; like a bunny in heat.

“n-not now, ryusei, mommy’s got things to do, okay?”

“y’really can’t spend some quality time with your son?” he pouts, a sight you’re never used to seeing. it makes your heart ache, and you sigh.

“b-but, i have to cook—“

“i can help you with that later, ‘kay? jus’ miss you mama, don’t leave me.”

you shrivel under his touch, finding it hard to respond with anything other than your usual ‘yes, of course i won’t .’ he attempts to read into your expression, looking for any sign of reassurance. he sighs with relief when you smile, burying himself in the crook of your collarbone when you run a hand through the soft of his fluffy hair. because he knows, knows that you’ve fallen into his trap once again.

. . ♡

ryusei only loves you. maybe it’s the fact that you’re the only one out of thousands of individuals that he’s ever met, that has shown him unconditional love. spending the last 20 years of your life grooming him, nurturing him, regardless of anything that has happened within the span of his fucked up life, he’s never found another like his own mother.

he can’t help but love you more than a son should love his mother, clinging onto you at any moment given possible when he isn’t out solely to play soccer for his profession.

the brat almost always gets into dangerous situations after a bad game, rushing home to find comfort in his mothers presence, as well as in her sloppy cunt. you attempt to scold him, but everything simply goes in one ear and out the next when he’s desperate for some lovin’ from his mother.

“i know.. i know already, okay? jus’ missed you so much. couldn’t wait to come home..” he mumbles, pressing his hot lips against yours. it’s overwhelming, his soft hands roaming your body and groping the flesh of your tits from under your shirt, the soft fat of them falling in between his fingers. “really just missed you s’much mama. forgive me, ‘kay?”

how heartless would you be if you didn’t ?

♡ . .

“w’na make you feel good. can i , mommy ? please ? w’na have you so bad.” he whines, fingers tugging at your shirt, quickly pulling them above your tits causing you to squeal. he wastes no time listening to your complaints, whining about how he’s too crude, and how he needs to be patient, instead he quickly latches onto your swollen bud. his strained cock unwittingly humps into the sheets, the wet sticky patch that leaks from his cock head dirtying his boxers.

ones you’d have to wash later, and look back on the ‘guilt‘ of your two’s doings.

he’s messy, and his spit coats not only your puffy areola but the fat of your tit. he gropes at your tit simultaneously, causing you to arch your back away from the rough sensation.

“r-ryusei hnn— too rough.”

“sorryyy. . didn’t mean t’mommy.” he mumbles, catching your lips in a heated kiss.

meanwhile, his hand travels below, pulling himself out of the confinement of his boxers. he sighs into your mouth out of relief, the warmth of his shaft unintentionally rubbing against your naked thigh. it makes you whine, squeezing your eyes tight.

“ryusei..” you mumble into the kiss , catching his attention. “you’re such a good boy f’mommy baby.” you coo with a light smile. his gaze softens, an ill-intentioned grin that spreads across his face. he yearns for your free hand, intertwining his bigger fingers with yours.

“can i fuck you now ? please, can’t wait anymore. it hurts , mommy.” he whines, leading your gaze down below where he fervidly attempts to rub out the ache in his cock. it’s a sight you’ve seen many times before, but one that you’re never able to get used to.

he’s heavy, and thick, the rotund tip leaking of creamy pre. his balls swell with need, desperate for any sort of release. he’s thickest around the middle, veins bulging across the entirety of his fat shaft. you find yourself salivating at the sight, quickly tidying your appearance before he has time to make fun of your expression.

“such a pretty sight, baby.” you coo, hoisting yourself onto your forearms to press a soft kiss against his cheek.

“t-thank you, mommy.” he mumbles, a light blush of pink painting over his cheeks. he’s unable to look into you, embarrassed, but doesn’t waste time to press a kiss on the tip of your nose to show his appreciation.

he rubs the swollen head against the pudgy slit of your cunt waiting for approval, shivering when he feels his pre mix into the slick of your arousal. his grip on your hand grows tighter, attempting to press further into your silky cunt.

“mommy, please—“

“mhm, be good for mommy, okay? go ahead, p-put it in, ryusei.”

you find yourself barely able to breathe throughout the the desperation, watching as his pupils grow into large black voids, shaped into hearts.

he wastes no time, quickly guiding his cock into the depths of your cunt. the arousal caused upon his teasing causes a slip, his creamy head accidently nudging over your puffy clit, making you jolt against him. he mumbles out insincere apologies, head empty other than the thought of getting in his mother’s cunt.

he nearly cums when he successfully fucks into you, your tight walls pulsating and gripping around him like no other. you squeal at the stretch, free hand coming up to push at his chest in an attempt to slow his movements.

“wait— ryu !”

“mommy,” he whines, on the brink of tears. if his eyes hadn’t been rolled back into his fucking skull, you’d very obviously see tears beading in the socket of his rosy irises.

“r-ryu,” you cry. “feels s’ good. y-you’re making mommy feel so good..”

his chest swells with pride, yearning to hear more of your honey-like praises.

he humps into you lazily, his breaths heavy and to be heard from rooms away. minimal sweat beads across the crown of his forehead, his gaze pacing back and forth from your frenzied state to down below where you two connect.

your cunt accommodates his girth perfectly, fat folds stretching to painful limits just enough to fit his cock. every thrust leaves a coat of pearlescent cream around him forming a ring, slow dribbles of cum spilling down and coating the tight rim below.

“l-love you, only you, love your pussy s’much, i— thankyouthankyouthank—“ his rambles are stopped by a kiss, but to no avail as he continues chanting against your lips. his hands rub up on every inch of your skin desperately, roughly fondling your messy tits, eager to feel more.

“wan’ you to cum, please, cum ‘round me mama. please—“ he mumbles meekly into your neck, bodies held together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

his thrusts become heavy and sloppy, leaving no room for you to squirm away as he holds tight. “hnn— r-ryu, it hurts— think ‘m g-gonna cum,” you cry, shimmery tears dragging along your dewy cheek. red painful streaks paint the back of the football player, but he pays no mind.

“cum, mommy, cum on it.” he moans breathlessly.

you’d never miss a chance to. your cunt convulses around him violently, pushing him over the edge at the given moment. creamy cum coats the insides, painting your walls white as his fat load seems to be never ending, filling your little cunt to the brim.

“ryusei, t-too much! wait !”

“take i-it, pleasee hnn—, just be still and take it f’me—“

he holds you tight, hindering your attempt to scramble away from the feeling, being sure you feel every inch, every drop of his heavy load.

he withdraws his limp cock from you unwillingly, whining at the sensitivity when your cunt clenches around his swelled tip.

he light smile spreads across his lips as he watches his load leak out of you involuntarily, painting the sheets white. he does nothing to prevent the mess, simply watching from afar dreaming of doing it again.

“love you, mommy.” he speaks quietly, gently grabbing your face on both sides to pucker your swollen lips before pressing a heavy kiss. he adores your fucked out expression, barely awoke but still conscious enough to shoot him a smile, and a honeyed, “i love you too, ryusei. ♡”

“goodnight, mommy. sleep tight. ♡”

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt. 2

Ball (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Wasn't really expecting to write arle content so soon but heck i miss writing and school makes me sad :( i have 4 assessments next week. i hate it here. also for @\megistusdiary and @\servalisms who feed me so well <333 love you guys. anyways, following the same concept as the first part here, this is some time after Reader and Arlecchino has made the contract. What do you guys think about this series? Future edit: It's gonna be a blurb, I say. It'll be less than 1k I say. *Looks at the time.* It's 3AM and the finished product is 2.2k words. Again. How do I do this to myself. I'm not calling this a oneshot though because not my greatest quality. Content Warning: Suggestive. semi-graphic descriptions of violence Series Masterlist

It's funny, really, having a demon as your butler. You could never imagine yourself as the type of person to even consider such a notion, and you certainly were not a believer of the supernatural either. Of course, beliefs change and so do mindsets; after all, your worldview was shattered with one singular event. It is that catalyst that has led you down this path. You used to believe that revenge was just a trope, an exaggerated manifestation of pettiness but as you feel it pump through your blood and inject in its veins, revenge is so very palpable. And with the contract, it's graspable, within your reach. It's like a dessert, waiting to be devoured after the main course. And like a dessert, however, in order to really savor it, one must be patient.

It has led you to this point. To a ball, specifically. The preparations have all been laid out, and you know what you your goal from this event is. The only thing left to do is to prepare the final touches and carry out the plan.

For all your meticulous planning, you don't expect yourself to be hindered before you had even gotten to the event. And defeated by a corset dress of all things. You couldn't extend your arms anymore to reach the strings behind your dress. Of course, you have other dresses, but none were as suitable for this event besides this one; this dress is made especially to carry secret compartments for weapons, a feature that none of your other apparels have.

"Arlecchino," you call out to your butler, and within a moment, the air of the room grew considerably colder, alerting you of the demon's sudden appearance. The abrupt chill invokes a chill down your spine and you let out a breathy exhale as you gazed at the mirror in front of you, and could see your servant's form just behind you, her height towering over you. On her face is the usual subtle smirk when she's with you and her red pupils gleamed just slightly.

"You look beautiful, my Lady," she greets with a low drawl although you knew it was out of politeness than admiration. Her irises burn as you could feel it traverse over your exposed back and you can barely suppress the goosebumps that her gaze provoked.

"I didn't summon you here to ogle me, Arlecchino," you say, maintaining a cool tone despite the warmth that bloomed over your bare skin, pricking your senses. A low rumble comes from the being and she leans forward placing her icy black hands over your naked shoulders, fingertips running across the surface smoothly as it slowly nears your collarbone. Her face nears your left ear, her breath cascading against your earlobe.

"Of course. It was simply an observation, my Lady. But, dare I say, you look simply ravishing." The demon whispers against the shell of your ear, her voice adorning the smallest bit of allure in it, and her hands suddenly grip your shoulders as she emphasizes the last word, then relaxing a moment later. Your inhale hitches but no other reaction is displayed outwardly.

"The strings, Arlecchino," you instruct as a distraction away from the soft flaring of your cheeks.

A brief pause as you observe through the mirror the gleam of mischief in the demon's black pits, and her hands move down your shoulder, only the pads of her fingers brushing ghosting over your shoulder blades and yet it feels like the heat from the contact drips down onto your skin. It's a lagging pace, deliberate and feather light as it finally reaches the farthest down string. Prodding fingers caress against your back as she begins maneuvering the strings masterfully, each graze seemingly lingering as it seems like she takes every opportunity to memorize the texture of you on her fingertips. When her painstaking process draws close to its end, she ties the strings together, making it tight enough to make you groan and arch your back from the sting. When you do, she traces a finger up the curvature of your spine.

"Arlecchino," you chastise with a shuddering breath. Hands find themselves on your hips, clawed fingertips faintly digging into you and you're suddenly pulled to her being, chest meeting against your spine.

"You can't possibly fault me for my behavior when you're far too delectable, can you?" She voices against your nape, cold lips just barely hovering over it while you feel hot air stroke against your hair. You shudder. A small ire wells up inside of you and you break from her grasp easily. 

“You know better than to fool around now of all times,” you huff irritably, before spinning around. “Now, are you dressed yet?” 

Your breathing halts once your eyes scan Arlecchino's body. Donning a midnight black tailcoat alongside matching slim trousers, a white button-collared dress shirt with scarlet ruffled cuffs, and finally, a simple jet black necktie. It is not very different compared to her usual apparels, and yet your sight cannot help but stagger over her. She's devilishly handsome, you begrudgingly admit to yourself, objectively pleasant to your view. You get the sense something is missing from her appearance, however, perhaps a mark of yours on her neck. You bite your tongue in reprimand to suppress any more carnal thoughts and you shift your focus away.

“Is it to your liking, my Lady?” A smug smile graces her kissable lips. 

“It's appropriate enough. You're missing something,” You reply back cooly, and you dig around the nearby drawers for the items you search for. Upon finding them, you find ebony gloves and then promptly fling them at the demon's face. They hit squarely, and slide off her mildly shocked expression with a comical, slow pace. It gives you more satisfaction than it should.  

“There,” you remark with a blank expression but a tone matching her prior pomposity. “I suppose you're presentable as my servant now.” 

You brush past her, comforted by the fact her eyes follow your form with each step. 

—

Upon arrival at the ball, it's nearly overwhelming–chatter fills the room and surrounds you at every angle, suffocating you under the noise of whispered gossip. A suited server comes up to you with a glass of some presumed luxurious beverage, no doubt costing a ludicrous amount. You swivel the untouched drink in your hand as you survey other guests, searching for a particular face in general. Arlecchino should be doing something similar right now, if she hasn't already found her target. 

The person you're looking for is no longer to be found, at least in your approximate vicinity. You grind your teeth together and your hand bunches the fabric of your dress in a fist. An advancing man steps into view and strolls towards you, confidence and snobbery exuding from his walking. 

“Would you like a dance, my Lady?” 

You can't help but cringe at the addressment, the term sounding only right from one particular individuial's tongue. But nonetheless, a cordial smile masks your disgust and you agree to it, letting the man lead you to a slow, and quite frankly, boring waltz. His movements are just flamboyanes to cover up his sloppy movements, and it only makes you wonder how a demon can so masterfully practice an art made by humans. During the dance, you try to fish him out of any useful information, but the daft male is incapable of doing anything besides leering at you. 

You could feel at the back of your neck someone else's stare–one that kindles like the flames of hell. You smirk to yourself. Maybe you can use her gaze, taunt her through this. You lean ever so closer, lurching forward to whisper something in his ear and you let his filthy hands wander your form a bit. 

When you finally part from him, enduring one last, disappointing dance, you say your farewells to him. Not out of respect as a dance partner but because you know his life will end in a few minutes. You only hope she remembers to dispose of the body and clean up the evidence. 

You find that she reappears by your side in less than fifteen minutes. It's cute that she does it when you're not in the vicinity, like you don’t already know what she did. How fortunate for you that you've already isolated yourself to a lone balcony when she finds you. Otherwise, people may accuse the two of you as undignified lovers.  

Shortly afterwards, the two of you return to the main location of the ball, and again, you're in search of a certain man. Arlecchino has yet been successful in finding her target and you wander the dance floor once again, though this time, you decline any dance requests. 

Your gaze follows that of a group of men eyeing something, and you trace for what they're looking at. With great irritance, you discover it's the demon that they’re leching over. Something ugly coils in the pit of your stomach, an ugly sensation filling your being the longer you watch their gaze, like a feeling that what they are coveting after is one of your belongings. 

“Arlecchino,” you softly gruff under your breath. You observe from across the large room that her head perks up immediately, reminiscent of how a dog would when its name is called, and without even looking, she steers through the sea of ball-goers towards your direction. 

When she’s finally in front of you, there's an aggravating, knowing grin that Arlecchino fails to hide. “Yes, my Lady?”  

You reach out to tug her necktie to you like a leash and she compliantly lets you pull her face towards you. 

“If people keep leering at you like that, they'll become an inevitable hindrance,” you lie straight through your teeth, hating the way her eyes crinkle in amusement as she sees right through you. The two of you know you're lying.  

“And what are you going to do about it, my Lady?” You should order her to wipe that complacent sneer off of her face, shouldn't you? 

“This,” you give her neck time a harsh yank and your lips brush against her neck, teeth biting her skin and your tongue lapping at the bite mark. It's a quick, stinging action that makes the demon grunt lowly but she's yet to pull away. She wouldn't dare to, not without your instructions. 

You pull away only after a few moments because it's not a mark made out of passion or affection. It’s a mark made out of desperation, out of possessiveness, to remind those who she belongs to and who can touch her. 

“Don't you dare hide it,” you demand, indignation creeping up your words. You release her, and she simply nods, her gloved fingers dabbing the mark. Walking away, you feel strangely content–what was missing from Arlecchino's appearance is there now. 

You call for her one last time during the ball. When you've led the man you were searching for into a private guest room, and you loosen his lips with the suggestiveness of your actions and the alcohol you slip in his hands. The information that spews out to you is useless, the furthest thing to what you desire even when you’ve pushed yourself far past what you'd like. He simply doesn't have what you want, you frustratingly recognize. You've let this man undress you until you're nearly half-naked for nothing. 

At the moment you acknowledge that this entire venture to this ball was for naught, you kick the disgusting man in the face, hard enough to hear a crunch underneath your heel and in his clutched hands, his broken nose bleeds. You sigh and start redressing yourself, thankful at least you didn't allow him to derobe you any further while he chucks insolent expletives and meaningless threats at you. He dares to reach out his hand for you with your back against him and it is then you mutter her name.

“Arlecchino.”

And like every time, she materializes right where you want her to, in between you and the vermin, blocking you from his sight. 

“Yes, my Lady?” She purrs as the man sputters out in shock, tumbling back.

You don't even look over your shoulder to give a command, instead, opting to fix your hair. “Dispose of him.”

There's no need for you to watch the bloodbath. You're familiar with how she kills now. It lasts no more than a few seconds and when you smell soot, you know she's done. You turn around, the last few embers of his body dissipating in the air. There's no remnants of him anymore, the room is spotless clean, except for the smear of blood on her cheek. 

“Don't you demons know how to clean yourselves?” You chastise with an exasperated click of your tongue and extend your hand, your thumb wiping the crimson droplet from her face and then guiding your thumbpad to her lips. Her tongue darts out, and laps up the last trace of him with a deliberate swipe. 

It ignites a blaze in your chest and your heart drums. 

“Take me home, Arlecchino. We're done here.” 

“Of course, my Lady.” 

[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale VIII

Chapter Eight

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn, blood

Words: 8k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. I'm backkkkk. Hope you enjoy x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

February 6th, 2005

Camila’s Sunday had been a fairly uneventful day, having spent the majority of it on the couch with her mother. The two had spent their afternoon watching some of the movies they had recently unpacked from the move. Camila had been happy to spend some much needed quality time with her mother and even happier to spend that time avoiding the topic that had been weighing on the family heavily for the past week. In reality, she didn’t actually know how many more good days with her mother she was going to get by the end of all of this, and she wanted to cherish whatever time she had left. 

Her mother had just popped in the second tape for the movie Titanic when her father arrived home, arms full with two large pizza boxes as he dropped his things by the door. Camila’s face blossomed into a bright smile. Regardless of her dwindling appetite, pizza would always be her favorite and she couldn’t have thought of a more ideal evening with her parents. So the family sat together, watching as the movie’s plot took a rather unfortunate turn for disaster, eating their greasy pizza off of paper plates. 

Of course, in the end, as it always happened, no matter how much Camila had hoped for a different outcome, the lovely Jack Dawson had frozen to death holding the hand of his lover and she was left to wonder if she would end up leaving Jasper in a similar state of despair when her time was up. Deep down she knew that his offer of eternity in his arms was growing more and more tempting and the likelihood of her ever leaving his side was dwindling as the days passed by. Her feelings for him were growing day by day as well and she was well past the point of no return she feared. 

Being in love was a scary and vulnerable thing as it was, but given everything else about her situation, it was nothing less than terrifying, albeit a good kind of terrifying. Her thoughts had become an endless cycle of him, and she knew she was done for. The idea of being in love so quickly would’ve made her scoff and roll her eyes previously, but now that she found herself very much in love with Jasper, she knew that what she had once thought was impossible was the truth. 

The feelings she held in her heart for Jasper triumphed any idea of love she had previously held. She had never been one to believe in the foolish idea of love at first sight, but as she looked back at the moment she had met him she couldn’t imagine anything closer to describe it as. She knew that if she already felt this strongly for him, that her feelings would only grow to an incomprehensible intensity with time.

It was after the sun had set when he had come knocking on her window, giving the glass a light tap with his knuckles as a warning before he entered through the opening into her bedroom. She had given him a small tired smile, gesturing for him to join her on the bed. He moved forward, sinking into his usual spot as she took hers with her head on his chest, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

“How was the game?” She asked, bringing her hand up to lay on the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

Jasper smiled, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “It was good, Patriots won.” He said simply, knowing she was just being polite in asking, having no interest in the game herself. 

In all truth, he hadn’t spent much of his time actually paying attention to the sport, his thoughts being rather caught up on the girl who was currently curled up against him. He tried his best to show interest as he knew that Emmet had been looking forward to it, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed at his past self for promising to spend the day away from Camila. Of course, at the time he had no idea that he would be missing school the two days that followed, which had definitely added to the torture. Torture that was given brief recesses by his nightly visits. 

“That’s good, I’m glad you enjoyed it…” She said, trailing off into a yawn, covering her mouth with her palm. “I’m sorry, I promise you’re not boring me, I’m just so exhausted.” She explained, slightly disappointed in herself as she had been looking forward to seeing him all day and knew that his presence would be missed at school the next morning. 

He sighed, running his fingers delicately along her spine, raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin. “You don’t need to apologize Darlin’, sleep.” He said, laying a kiss on her head as he breathed in the comforting scent of her. 

“You won’t be bored?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she attempted to fight the sleep off. 

Jasper smiled lightly. “Is it creepy if I said that I actually enjoy watching you sleep?” He asked, arching a curious brow at her. 

Camila snickered softly. “A little bit.” She admitted cheekily. 

Jasper’s chest shook with a slight chuckle at her bluntness. “I can’t help it, you just look so peaceful.” He explained, giving her a bright smile, teeth shining in the moonlight. 

Camila lifted her head slightly, getting a better look of the beautiful smile he had been graciously sharing with her. “Do you ever miss being able to sleep?” She asked, curiosity coursing through her. 

He looked up in though for a moment, eyes coming back, meeting her own as he gave his answer. “Sometimes. It’s been so long, so I don’t really know what I’m missing out on I suppose.” He admitted, his cool fingers lifting to brush the hair from her face. He leaned forwards slightly, pressing his lips lightly to hers in a soft kiss, breaking away with a grin as he listened to her heart rate pick up from the touch. “Stop stalling, sleep.” He urged. 

Camila groaned, rolling her eyes playfully as she lowered her head back to his chest. “Fine.” She muttered, letting her eyes flutter closed. 

Jasper’s eyes lingered on her sleeping frame as he concentrated on the beating of her heart. Her tank top hung loosely on her frail shoulders, her chest slowly rising and falling as she sucked in the deep breaths of sleep. 

The burn in his throat persisted, Camila’s parents’ blood pumping heavily through their veins in such close proximity. Although he knew that his thirst hadn’t wavered, being so near the humans had grown easier to manage over time. Easier to let his mind wander on thoughts of Camila rather than thoughts of bloodlust. It was times like these that he missed being able to sleep, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and be able to dream of her. 

So, instead he spent this time day dreaming of her. Day dreaming of the future they may one day have with each other. Thoughts of being able to not only drape his arm around her body, but truly hold her. He knew that he was getting carried away, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it that when he pictured his future, she was always there at his side, or rather she was there in the forefront, his future itself.

——————

February 7th, 2005

Camila awoke in the morning to her mother gently shaking her. Vaguely, she remembered, a half asleep goodbye from Jasper, followed by a soft peck to her forehead that must have happened only minutes before. A frown settled on her face, not yet mentally prepared to face the day without her favorite person by her side. She knew she would see him later, that much he had assured her, but that didn’t stop her from dreading spending the next two school days without him in attendance. 

She was however, looking forward to seeing Angela once more, slightly giddy at the fact that she would be able to tell her that Jasper was now officially her boyfriend. She had refrained from telling her mother of this, knowing that it would only raise questions, besides, her mother knew her too well, and the last thing she really needed was a confirmation. 

So she had begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed and into the shower. The cool stream of water stifled the heat of her skin as the stream ran down her spine. Gravity weighed down on her bones, a deep ache radiating through her body. She would be sure to take her meds today, knowing that the pain would only intensify as the hours went on. Although she hated to rely on the pills, she knew that it was necessary, especially given the fact that Jasper would not be there to help distract her. 

The ride to Forks High School was rather quiet, the air around her and her mother filled with soft crunching of Camila’s protein bar. She forced herself to swallow the unsavory food, knowing that she needed the nutrients, regardless of how much she hated the aftertaste. When the van finally came to a stop in front of the dreary building. She quickly stuffed the remainder of her breakfast in her mouth, grabbing her bottle of water as she mumbled something resembling a goodbye to her mother, giving a quick side hug to the woman. 

The fluorescent lit hallways were filled with cheerful chatter, no doubt a side effect of the irregularly sunny day. The ring of the bell rang shrilly signaling the time for first period, and she was surprisingly happy to sit down in the class. The teacher quickly gave them work to do in pairs and she was thankful to be able to speak to the girl without risking getting in trouble for talking in class. 

“Soooo…” She drew out dramatically, gaining the attention of the girl sitting next to her. Angela looked to her, eyes peering over the rim of her glasses quizzically. “Jasper may or may not officially be my boyfriend now.” She informed, watching as a giant smile formed on the girl’s lips in response. 

“Oh my god. I knew it!” She squealed in delight, teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting. “Tell me more, I’m begging.” She said, dramatically clutching her hands together as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. 

Camila smiled lightly, a bright blush covering her cheeks as she thought of what to tell the girl that wouldn’t give too much away. “I met his parents this weekend.” She said, opting to add Carlisle in on the meeting as she shouldn’t have had any reason to have met him previously.

Angela’s eyes widened dramatically. “Woah, that’s kinda serious, huh?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. 

The heat burned red hot on her face as Camila looked down at the workbook in front of her bashfully. “Kinda, yeah.” She muttered, smile unwavering from her lips. 

“So they’re ridiculously attractive too, right?” Angela asked, nudging the girl’s shoulder. 

Camila snickered lightly. “Of course.” She admitted. 

Angela perked up in her seat. “So, does this mean that he’s going to take you to prom now?” She asked expectantly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Camila’s smile dropped slightly, forcing herself to not let it falter completely. “No.” She said simply, watching as Angela gave an indignant pout. “We already had plans to spend time with each other, and I’m not much of a prom kind of girl I guess.” She explained feebly, hoping the girl would except her answer without much fuss.

Angela sighed disappointedly. “Fine.” She grumbled.

“But don’t worry.” Camila chirped. “I promise to help find the best dress for you.” She said, smiling brightly. Angela’s lips quirked up in answer, happy to hear the words, and conversation quickly changed topic to getting their work done, neither of the two wanting to have to take the work home to do that night instead. 

——————

Jasper’s day had drug on at a ridiculously slow pace, the absence of Camila glaringly obvious as he attempted feebly to read one of the books off of his shelves. His eyes scanned the pages, knowing deep down that it was of no use. He wasn’t actually absorbing any of the information, as his mind was clearly elsewhere. He wondered, as he recalled the time before he had met Camila, which in reality had only been a short time ago, how he had occupied his time like this. It now all seemed so monotonous, the same books over and over again, growing bored quickly of them, regardless of how much he had previously cared for the stories. He knew them all by heart by now and he made a mental note to try and get some new book recommendations later from Camila.

Once again, his mind had quickly returned to thoughts of the girl. Shocker. How was he expected to have to do this whole thing again just a day later. It was already torture enough as it was. At least, he reminded himself, that he would have the night that he would be able to see her, even if it was just to be in her company as she slept. It surprised him that such a thing didn’t bore him, although he did understand the appeal. The feel of her warm skin against his own cool body, the steady beat of her heart in his ears, everything was a reminder that, at least for now, she was alive and with him. While at the moment, being away from her felt like nothing but a waste of their time. 

Jasper looked over to the clock on the wall for what had to be the thousandth time that day. She would be leaving school now, just that much closer to when he would be able to see her. He would have to wait until the sun set of course. His family were supposed to be out of town camping, so he knew he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him, regardless of if he were to be seen in direct sunlight or not. 

It was days like this that made him question the humans in the town’s intelligence, them all seeming to except their rather lousy excuse for missing school fairly easily. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that most people viewed them as outcasts already, but really, what parent would agree to pull their kids out from school just because it happened to be a sunny day? He supposed he should be grateful for their ignorance, but at the moment, all he could do was stare impatiently at the pages of his book, willing time to somehow go by faster. 

After an agonizing wait in which felt like eternity, the sun had finally set, and in a blink of an eye, he had fled the glass house, determined to make this the fastest run of his life. As the small pale yellow house came into view, he felt like he could breath again. In truth, he hadn’t noticed the weight on his chest until it had lifted. Unlike their usual routine, when Jasper rounded the corner, he could see her, sitting at the open window, gazing out at the night sky. When her eyes finally met his own, a small smile spread across her face.

“I got overheated.” She explained, stepping back from the open window to allow him inside. It was the truth, one of the many side effects of her illness had caused her to have hot flashes and she had awoken in a particularly bad one at that, but she would be lying if she had said it was the only reason she had been staring out into the wilderness that night. She hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be for her to miss Jasper’s company that day, having already had a drastically decreased amount of time with him that weekend, and she had been counting down the minutes until sunset. 

Jasper smiled, pulling her into his cool chest, knowing that the temperature difference would help sooth her without the risk of catching a cold from the chilled February night air. Her face nuzzled into the icy fabric of his clothing, sighing as she allowed herself the comfort of his embrace. All too soon, Jasper parted ways, only to shut the window and drag her to her bed to get comfortable, pulling her back into himself. 

“How was school?” He asked, muttering the words into her hair as he rested his head atop hers. 

She groaned out a dramatic sound. “Horrible.” She said bluntly, earning a laugh from the golden haired vampire. 

He rolled his eyes playfully at her words. “It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” He asked. 

Camila lifted her body, coming to a seat next to him as he wrapped his arm securely around her waist. “Yes actually.” She stated matter of factly. She thought for a moment, looking for the right words that wouldn’t make it seem like his absence alone had completely ruined her day. “It was nice to see Angela and Bella, but Tyler wouldn’t leave me alone.” She groaned out. 

Camila had been lucky to avoid Tyler for the most part, but unfortunately, he had of course taken notice of Jasper’s absence and had decided that it was the best time to try and be friends again. Much to her annoyance, he had talked her ear off during lunch and only continued to do so on their way to biology class. All of the talking had created a particularly horrible headache behind her brow and she begged whatever higher power there was that he would shut up for once in his life. 

She internally scolded herself for being continuously friendly to him, but realistically, it wasn’t like she could just turn around and be an ass to him when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong since he had apologized. Unfortunately for herself, she had convinced herself to be as kind as possible to everybody unless given a reason not to be. The reality of it was that she didn’t have the time nor energy to be unkind, something the she was starting to question was showing to be true in this case.

By the time their calculous class came around, she was for once happy to have silence. Although she would have much preferred to have Jasper’s company, she was glad to have peace and quiet for the first time that day. She had never been so thankful that they had assigned seats and Tyler was stuck far away from her, finally giving her space to breath. Her head had continued to pound relentlessly as she counted down the minutes until she would be able to return home, take her meds, and sleep off the migraine. A sleep that she had just recently woken from.

Tyler. The boys name had caused Jasper’s body to stiffen. He knew it wasn’t his right to be bothered by him, but in all truth he couldn’t stand the boy. Maybe it was mostly jealousy, but he had jus rubbed him the wrong way from the beginning. “He wouldn’t shut up, and I’m not trying to be rude, but we aren’t even really friends and he was giving me a headache.” She admitted, a grimace casted on her face. 

Jasper laughed lightly, relieved that the boy hadn’t gone and upset her with his words yet again. “Only one more day, and we’ll be back. I promise to scare him off.” He joked, a smirk unwavering on his lips. 

Camila threw her head back in a groan as she pouted her lips childishly, Jasper desperately wanting to kiss the pout away. “I don’t know if I’ll make it.” She said dramatically.

Jasper leaned forwards, bringing his lips to hers, deciding to not hold back any longer as he gave her a light kiss upon her lips. She smiled into his touch, the playful pout melting instantly as she molded her mouth to his. He pulled away, not allowing the kiss to last too long. He gave her a sheepish smile before speaking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was almost bored to death without you.” He admitted. 

Camila smiled lightly, glad to know that the ‘torture’ was not one sided. One more day and he would be back, she could do it, right? “I’m almost tempted to skip tomorrow.” She admitted. “But I promised Angela that I would go prom dress shopping with her in Port Angeles after school, so I can’t really act sick for half the day very easily.” She continued. 

Jasper quirked an eyebrow at his girlfriend. “Are we going to prom?” He asked confused. He had been sure the event had been off of the table given her physical limitations, but now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she had changed her mind now that they were dating. Maybe it was him who dropped the ball when he hadn’t asked to make sure his theory was correct.

She shook her head. “No, defiantly not. Even if I could go, I don’t think I’d want to. I’d rather just spend time alone with you.” She admitted, allowing Jasper to let out an internal sigh of relief. “I just promised to help her find a dress is all.” She said. 

He nodded his head in understanding, ignoring the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, the idea of her being out in the city without him made a chill go up his spine, even if the reality of it was impossible. Realistically what could go wrong? She would be out with friends and she would be able to sit the majority of the time. Regardless, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something bad happening. “Text me if you need me to pick you up early.” He said, receiving a gracious nod from her in response. 

He tried his best to shake his unease as he sat with her, holding her, and allowing the touch of her blazing skin on his own to calm the racing thoughts in his mind. He changed the subject, remembering to ask for book recommendations as he attempted to steer his mind from the unnecessary panic that refused to leave. 

——————

February 8th, 2005

Camila had never wished more to take her jacket off, the heat of the day causing a sheen of sweet to cover her forehead, despite the temperature not being above seventy. Of course, the entire school had decided to sit outdoors, given the ‘beautiful’ weather, and the long sleeves that she wore were beginning to stick to her skin. She wondered briefly if it was worth it to try and cover the bruises with makeup rather than the extra layer of fabric. 

Her thoughts halted as she realized that this solution would only end up solving one of her two issues. Her bones would still continue to protrude from her muscles, something that was sure to only get worse as she grew sicker and sicker. The last thing she needed was people growing concerned of her health in any way shape or form. 

She shook the thoughts from her head, looking up from the unappetizing food to Bella who was sat opposite on the picnic table. The girl’s eyes wandered around at the crowd of students gathered in the unusual sunny grounds, seemingly anxious about something. “He’s not here.” Jessica spoke from her spot atop the table where she perched soaking in the rays of sunshine. Bella looked up, slightly embarrassed that she had been caught looking for him. “Whenever the weather’s nice, the Cullens disappear.” She explained, eyes closed as her face tilted up towards they sky. 

Bella looked to her, slightly confused. “What, do they just ditch?” She asked curiously.

“No, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen yank them out for, like hiking and camping and stuff.” Jessica explained. Camila hummed, a small smirk forming on her lips. Was this really the excuse they had come up with? It was kind of lame is she was being honest. Very vague at lease, but did she really expect anything else at this point? “I tried that out on my parents. Not even close.” Jessica continued, earning a snicker from Camila.

Angela rushed towards the group, her long brunette hair falling over her shoulders as she settled into a spot next to Bella. “Bella, are you sure you have to go out of town for prom? Camila isn’t going either. It’s going to be lonely without you guys.” She said, giving a dramatic pout. 

Bella grimaced at the question, seemingly just as perturbed as anytime Camila had been asked about the topic. “Oh, yeah, it’s a little family thing.” She explained dismissively. She turned to Camila, arching an eyebrow at the girl. “You’re not going?” She asked, surprised by the fact that she had not been the only one in the small town that hadn’t wished to attend the event. 

“What? Couldn’t find a date?” Jessica asked, attempting to pass the snide remark off as a playful joke. Camila’s face dropped, giving her a slight glare not allowing the girl’s comment to pass without a reaction from her. 

Angela perked up, wanting to defend her new friend. “Actually, her and Jasper are dating, but apparently neither of them wanted to go, so they made other plans.” She said, smiling as she gave Camila a teasing glance, causing a blush to creep up to her cheeks. Of course, anytime anyone mentioned him, she had to blush like a little girl with a crush. Honestly, who was she kidding? She wasn’t any better than that anyway. 

Jessica grimaced at the information, muttering something about Jasper ‘being even more of a weirdo than Alice’, earning an even more intense glare from Camila. “Okay, are we still good to go shopping in Port Angeles? I want to go before all the good dresses get cleaned out.” She asked Angela, deflecting the negative attention from the girl beside her. 

Angela nodded enthusiastically, smiling at Camila as she nodded as well. A shrill bell rang throughout the courtyard, signaling the end of the lunch period. Camila stood, grabbing her lunch tray from the table, attempting to hide how little she had eaten from the greasy array of food with her crumpled up napkin. 

Bella hesitated as the students began to head inside for the next half of classes for the day. “Port Angeles? You mind if I come?” Bella asked.

“Yeah, I need your opinion.” Angela said, grinning widely. Camila sighed, happy that she would have another friend there as a buffer between her and Jessica. It was no secret that the two didn’t like each other. Jessica clearly didn’t like to be talked back to in any sense of the phrase, and Camila wasn’t one to just sit there and take her bullying lightly. The two were bound to butt heads, but luckily she would have Angela and Bella there to lighten the blow of the inevitable disagreements that were to come.

——————

“I like this one, but, like I don’t know about the whole one shoulder thing.” Jessica said, holding the pink spaghetti strap dress in front of her body in the mirror to get a good look at herself. Angela nodded saying something about how the color looked good against her skin. 

Angela held up a dress of her own. “I like this one. What do you think?” She asked Camila expectantly, a bright look in her eye. 

Camila smiles taking in the sight before her, trying her best not to grimace as the headache pounding behind her temple got worse. “Yeah, I like the beading, and you wouldn’t need jewelry.” She argued, giving her best effort in sounding like she was interested and not like she was in a lot of pain. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, a cold sweat covering her forehead. Great, another hot flash, just what she needed.

They had been in the same dress shop from what seemed like hours and had barely gotten anywhere when it came to actually finding dressed for the two girls in front if her. Of course, within that time, her pain meds had completely worn off and the ache in her bones was beginning to rival the pounding in her head.

Angela turned. “Jess, what do you think? Lavender?” She asked the girl, gesturing to dress she was currently wearing. “Is that good? Is that my color?” She continued, fidgeting with the fabric that clung to her body. 

“I like it.” Jessica said quickly. “I like that dusty rose one, too.” She said, turning back to the mirror to admire her own reflection. “Okay, I like this one. It makes my boobs look good.” She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

Knocking on the glass of the window behind her, Camila turned to see a group of four men passing by, all ogling over the girls in the shop before them. “Nice!” One of them yelled, loud enough for the group of girls to hear them through the glass. Camila grimaced lightly at the interaction.

Jessica scoffed, clearly flattered given the wide grin on her face. “That is uncomfortable.” She said, voice trailing off. 

“That’s disgusting.” Bella muttered, looking down at the book in her hands, earning an absent minded nod from Camila. 

Jessica perked up once more. “Bella, what do you think?” She asked. 

Bella looked up, finally giving the two dresses attention as her eyes left the pages of her book. “That looks great.” She said dismissively.

“You said that about, like, the last five dresses, though.” She said, smile dropping slightly as she twirled her hair around her finger. 

Bella smiled bashfully. “I thought they were all pretty good.” She said, laughing lightly. 

Angela looked towards the two girls sitting on the cushioned bench. “You guys aren’t really into this are you?” She asked frowning. 

Camila’s smile dropped, feeling bad that she wasn’t giving Angela the experience she had been looking for. She was trying to sounds enthusiastic, but if she was being honest, she really didn’t care about the dresses at all. All she had wanted was to spend some time with friends outside of school, but now, with the music playing throughout the store, the bright lights, and the hundreds of questions about her opinion of the different dresses they had tried on over the past hour, she was just tired and overstimulated. The pounding of her temples proved that she couldn’t take it much longer. 

“I actually really just want to go to this bookstore.” Bella admitted, giving an apologetic smile. “I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant?” She suggested.

Camila’s ears perked up at this, a perfect excuse to finally leave this god forsaken dress shop. “Do you mind if I come with? I could use some fresh air.” She asked, knowing she would most likely regret it soon, needing to walk to the book shop, but not being able to help herself. If she was being honest, she was almost certain that if she stayed in this shop one more minute her head might explode. Bella nodded, grabbing her coat before leading the way to the door outside. 

Camila let out a sigh of relief as the cool air hit her face, glad to finally be free of the stuffy environment of the shop. Pain ricocheted up her legs as her steps landed on the pavement, attempting to give the pain little thought as she was just glad to have some quiet and cool air on her skin. It frustrated her to no end of course that she was incapable of doing such a simple thing as going shopping with friends, but she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought something like this was likely to happen. She would, however, enjoy it while it lasted, knowing she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to do so for much longer.

It was moments like this that made her happy that Bella was a particularly quiet person, and if she was being honest, she quite enjoyed the girls silent company. Her migraine was finally starting to subside as the small book shop came into view. Camila gave Bella a soft smile as she opted to stay outside in the cool air. She checked behind her, to make sure the girl had entered the shop before tearing the long sleeved zip-up hoodie from her frail arms, letting a sigh of relief leave her lips as the cool wind hit her blazing skin. 

She looked down at the pale skin the stretched loosely across her arms, the area scattered with varying shades of bruises. She knew she would only have a moment of sweet relief before Bella returned, so she closed her eyes and chose to savor the time she had been allowed. Her eyes opened, gazing out at the sunset before her. She hadn’t actually realized how late it had gotten and internally scolded herself for the missed time she would end up having with Jasper that night. 

She sucked in a deep breath, taking note of how her chest tightened uncomfortably. Dr Cullen had warned her of the discomfort that breathing would soon bring, but as prepared as she thought she was, she knew that the inevitable struggle would not be anything she could ever be truly prepared for. She knew that this was just the beginning of how horrible it would end up feeling for her. The reality of dying would one day end up being too much for her to handle. 

She wondered for a moment if taking the opportunity that Jasper had offered when the time came would make her brave or a coward. What in the end would be the easy solution? Dying and leaving him, or living and leaving everyone else she loved? In that moment, she wasn’t sure, but she did know what her heart yearned for. The image of his amber eyes flooded her thoughts, the idea of him alone, calming her unsteady breaths. 

A soft bell jingled behind her, pulling her from her wandering thoughts as she quickly pulled the fabric back up her arms and onto her shoulders. She turned taking in the site of Bella walking towards her holding a small book in her hand. “Ready?” She asked, gesturing with a nod to the road ahead. Camila nodded, giving a small smile as they started the trek back to where the restaurant was.

Their shoes thudded against the sidewalk as they walked in silence, a fog starting to settle in around them. They turned, cutting in between two buildings, taking the same route back that they had taken to get there. Suddenly, it became glaringly obvious the stark difference between the alley during the day and at night, and just as suddenly, Camila felt a chill run up her spine. Not the same chill she would get when Jasper touched her, but an eery chill. 

Stood there on the other side of the ally was the group of men who had passed by at the dress shop, looking much more menacing under the dim glow of the street lights. One of the men had just spotted them and had turned in his tracks to move towards them, the rest of the men following his lead. Camila grabbed Bella’s arm, turning back around before swiftly retracing their steps onto the trail they had just taken. 

They were now in a much bigger clearing, although just as deserted, and Camila chastised her self mentally for letting her pain and jumbled thoughts cloud her judgement. She wasn’t stupid, but god did she feel like she was in that moment. If she had been paying more attention she would’ve noticed the time of day or even the lack of people on their walk to the book store. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the air, the men no doubt following them further into the clearing. “Saw you in the dress store.” One of the men called out loudly. Camila forced her eyes to remain ahead, as if ignoring the men would make them disappear.  

“Hey, where are you running to?” Another yelled. Camila’s heart began to race, hearing the thudding in her ears, breath becoming shallow and quick, her lungs tightening with every gasp for air. 

Blinking rapidly, trying to calm her heart and her mind as the panic set it, three more men came into view on the other end of the lot. “What up? It’s my girls.” One said, his eyes meeting hers as the other three coming in closer. A menacing smirk coated his face as she tired to look anywhere but into his dark terrifying eyes. 

One man from behind called out to another. “How you guys doing? Look who we just found.” 

Camila’s hand tightened around Bella’s arm, attempting to ground herself in the moment and not settle into a full blown panic attack. 

“What’s up, girls?”

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“Come get a drink with us.”

“Yeah, you should hang out with us, come on.”

“It’s fun.”  

“What’s the problem?” “You’re pretty.”

Voices called out around them as the men got closer and closer starting to cage them in and breaking them apart from each other. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. The one time she went out with friends, and this happens? Really? Panic was really starting to set in as her mind began to wander further. It was one thing for this to happen to her, I mean her life was about to end anyway, but Bella too? She had her whole life ahead of her. 

“Don’t touch me.” Bella snapped, pulling her arm from one of the men harshly. 

The voices continued to ramble around them. Sadness bloomed in her chest as reality sunk in. Unless a miracle happened soon, they would likely end up dead by the end of this and despite having thought that she was prepared for death, she couldn’t get Jasper’s face out of her mind. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for the end as she had thought. The thought of leaving Jasper was what hurt the most, leaving a gaping hole in her heart. Maybe she was a coward, maybe not, in that moment she didn’t care. All she cared about was him.

Darkness started to encroach her vision, seeping in from all sides. Her body started to feel heavy, pain shooting up her arm as one of the men grabbed harshly at her, his fingers digging into her flesh. She was certain she would faint soon when all of a sudden, the screeching of tires against the pavement behind her cut through her jumbled thoughts. 

She turned her head feebly, a silver Volvo whipping around the corner, causing the men to jump back. Wait a second. She knew that car. Edward, thank god. She thought, relief flooding her veins. She had been sure that they were goners, destined to end up on some Dateline or CSI episode. 

The car jerked to a stop, Edward popping out of the driver seat, quickly followed by Jasper from the passenger seat. “Get in the car.” Edward instructed Bella. 

Jasper rushed to Camila’s side, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as he allowed her to rest her bodyweight on him, leading her to the back seat of the car. He sat her against the leather seats, pulling back to look her in the eyes. 

Camila took in the view of his face, his hand coming up to brush her cheek gently. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice. She nodded in response, letting out a deep shaky breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Relief flooded through her. She wasn’t going to die tonight. Jasper had saved her. Tears pricked her eyes as she pulled him towards her by the collar of his shirt into her open arms. 

She wrapped them tightly around his neck, breathing in his scent. “Thank you.” She whispered, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to blink back the tears. 

Jasper willed himself to pull away from her grip, pressing his lips to hers fiercely before pulling away quicker than he would have liked as he backed up further onto the pavement. “I’ll be right back, stay here.” He instructed, forcing his eyes to leave hers as he stepped away. 

Jasper stood to his full height, closing the door of the vehicle behind him, turning to look at the group of men before him. White hot anger ripped through his chest as he assessed the men. He wanted to kill them. To rip them to shreds for even thinking about doing anything to her. The truth was, if Edward hadn’t convinced Jasper to come along on a trip to watch over Camila and Bella then they would have gone through with the unspeakable. 

Edward had seen what one of the men was thinking. Had seen that he had done this sort of thing to other women before. Had seen that he would do it again given the chance. Jasper squared his shoulders pushing his power out from himself. Pushing fear into the minds of the men before him. Unspeakable fear that would never leave them, never completely. A waking nightmare that would terrify them to their last days, because as much as he wanted to physically hurt them, he knew that he couldn’t. Not with Camila so close and already afraid. This would be the next best thing. This would have to suffice. This would have to tame the beast inside of him.

Their faces morphed into looks of terror and Jasper watched, only slightly satisfied as he watched them scramble away as quickly as their feet would take them. Wishing that he could’ve somehow inflicted more terror on the men.

Jasper turned back to the car, rushing to get inside as Edward closed the driver side door. He joined Camila in the back seat, pulling her towards him and wrapping her into his grasp as Edward sped away from the scene. Camila shook in his arms, the reality of everything that had just happened lingering in the air around them. Vaguely, Jasper could hear the voices of Edward and Bella in the front of the vehicle, although he paid them no mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was Camila. 

He had known deep down that something would happen, he didn’t however think it would have ever been something like this. Something like a group of revolting men attempting to take her away from him. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of it, the idea infuriating him to no end. 

But what enraged him the most was the terror radiating off of Camila. The terror that those vile men inflicted on her. He realized that it was slightly hypocritical to think of these men as monsters while he sat there, knowing of his own past, knowing of the blood on his hands, but he knew he would never even think of doing such a thing to a woman. 

The fact that these men had been about to do such unspeakable things to anyone was bad enough, but to her? The fire in his chest burned hotter as he imagined what he would’ve done to the men had it not been for Camila’s presence. Vivid images overtook his mind. Ripping. Tearing. Blood. Mangled bodies littering the ground. For a moment, he imagined indulging himself on that blood, feasting on the terrible men and for the first time in so long, truly satisfying his eternal thirst. 

“Jasper.” Edward hissed through his teeth. Jasper’s eyes shot up to meet his brother’s in the rear view mirror, seeing his seething glare. He realized in that moment that his vivid mental imagery probably wasn’t helping Edward deal with his own fury over the situation. 

Jasper sucked in a breath that his lungs didn’t need. “Sorry.” He muttered in reply, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms. She gave no sign of fright, her expression completely blank as she looked ahead in a daze, but her body continued to shake ever so slightly. Jasper felt the fear, radiating outwards from her and focused his power on trying to sooth her. Her body relaxed in his arms, letting out a sigh as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the musky scent of him. 

“Thank you.” She muttered into his skin. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was thanking him for, whether it be saving her, or helping calm her down, or both even, but she thanked him nonetheless. Regardless of its’ origin, she needed her gratitude for him to be known. 

Time moved quickly in a blur around her as the car suddenly came to a halt. She looked up, realizing that Edward had parked the car, seeming to have driven to the restaurant that they had planned on meeting Angela and Jessica at. Camila’s eyes flickered up to Jasper’ face in question. “We should get you something to eat.” He said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Her eyes bore into his pleadingly. “Can we please stay in the car? I’ll eat when I get home, promise.” She begged, wanting the privacy that the restaurant would not be able to provide. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to leave his arms, his comforting embrace being one of the only things in that moment keeping her grounded. The security of his strong arms around her made her feel safe, made her feel like she was home. In reality, that is what he had become to her, her home. 

Jasper paused for a moment, contemplating their options before nodding. Bella was sure to have many questions and this was definitely not the time for anything resembling a double date. 

Soon, the two were alone the radio playing softly in the background of their silence. “I’m sorry.” Camila muttered quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Jasper’s head turned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you have to be sorry for?” He asked, grabbing her chin to turn her head to force her eyes to his own. 

She sucked in a shaky breath, “I wasn’t thinking when I left with Bella or I would’ve convinced her to stay with Jessica and Angela. I had headache and needed some fresh air and-“ She rambled on.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He interrupted, having not had the patience to listen to her attempt to punish herself further. “It is not your fault that there are horrible people in the world.” He assured her, resting his forehead on hers. 

Camila closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of Jasper’s skin against her own. She was beyond lucky and she knew it. Lucky that Edward and Jasper were there, listening, paying attention to make sure that Bella and her were safe. She would have thanked him again if it weren’t for his persistence that it wasn’t her fault. Camila knew that it was though, knew that she should have been thinking more clearly, should have been more aware. 

So, instead of thanking him once more verbally, she leaned forward to plant a kiss to his lips. She leaned fervently into the touch, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss as possible, her lips moving in sync with his own. In that moment she knew. Knew that this was the coward’s way out. Choosing Jasper was most definitely the easier of her two options. Living her life with him, grasping at their forever had to be the cowardly choice, because the other option seemed so much more torturous. 

Next Chapter -coming soon

Tag List:

@jasper-the-beloved @parkchaeyoung1997 @bobaopal @izzyisstuff @itsmytimetoodream @soyeonrai @just-browsing101 @demirunner @dkbj14 @iloveramensm @imyelenasexual @bella7866 @ropickle @may-and-lay @breezybeesposts @Emily-a13 @mamajaxx2511 @meyrryme @bertholdtswife @swagcopangeloop @idonotcareaboutyouropinion @honey132 @sakurayuki8655-blog @braveangel777 @illogic-ally @obsessed-with-pychopaths @natsvenom @iamveryholyiswear @too-many-fandoms-tbh @loser-syrus @madeofeverythingjuice @b-tchymoon @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @sabage101 @simon-e-mallory @augustlikesdeath @erissco @harleycao @clacefe @cassieisasimp @mentallyillpansexualtsversion-d @nlr1606 @blacklotus7070 @thisismyblogname5678 @dangerkitten1705 @bomen1807 @greeneyezsblog @jinxxangel13 @mariella-angel-unwin-black @aki-ham @averyasmr4 @midnight-dixon @shiiiii-okayyyy @clearwater-hoe @irishblend10 @scrappybear89 @whatawildone @edgyficueslastica @badhabit999 @lollzzzzz12345678910 @yokaimoon @imagaintnerdwhosbored @kisekihany @marshmallow433 @bluebear19 @jvlka18 @I3ejm @winkevm @avadakadabra93 @thehighlordishere @yeehawgiddyup13

[alienaiver]

Multiple gold medals 🥇

Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

synopsis: athlete is a noun. it is the person who is involved in the physical activity of sport or containing that agile quality. athletic is an adjective meaning physically active. you are neither, at least according to your rude boyfriend.

tags: summer olympics 2024, fluff, sfw, established relationship, banter and playfighting, canon compliant-ish, post-timeskip, no use y/n, humor, poc and body positive reader tho reader is Not sporty, one shot warnings: theres a minor-minor description of tickling/blowing a raspberry. otherwise, none! wordcount: 1.2k

notes: written for @tetzoro 's summer olympics collab! this was so fun. ive probably watched a total of six minutes of the olympics this year, i apologize 😔👊🏽 i love a good banter, tho. i hope i delivered!!! ✨

You throw an M&M up in the air to catch with your mouth, but it lands sadly on your collarbone before sliding down by your neck, lost underneath you between the throw pillows. You mentally promise Kuroo to pick it up as soon as you get up for water.

It’s your day off and you’re beat. The heat is nothing to scoff at, either; the humidity making any endeavors outside of the apartment walls virtually impossible.

Well, to you at least. Kuroo’s on a convenience store run to pick up as many snacks as he’s able to carry, and your favorite milk tea. The men’s volleyball game in the Olympics is tonight, Argentina against Japan. He’s been buzzing ever since they qualified for the finale. As much as you love to listen to him yap, his excitement is only working to make you impatient for something you didn’t think you’d care that much about.

Volleyball’s never been your strong interest. Sport in general isn’t high on your list, actually. It wasn’t until you met Kuroo that you even began watching the Olympics at all.

Right now the Olympics are on, too. It’s been on most of the days when either of you occupy his home, and right now it’s time for the Men’s Single luge. You’ve never heard of it before, but it’s a sort of sled competition in an ice tube sort of field.

You’re about to throw the next M&M into your mouth when the door clicks open. “I’m back!” you hear Kuroo yell out, and you greet him back before eating the candy. You hear him sit down by the genkan to take off his shoes; he firmly refuses to toe his new sneakers on and off like his old ones. It ruins the structure of the back quicker, he claims. He wants to be more environmentally conscious and take better care of his things.

He groans as he comes in, wiping his neck and collar with his handkerchief. You smile up at him, admiring the way his bangs stick to his forehead from the perspiration. On his shoulder hangs his tote bags, brimming with contents you can’t wait to dive into. When you reach out for it, he yells, “ah!” and pulls it dramatically away from your reach.

“It’s for tonight!” he huffs, puffing up his chest and jutting out his bottom lip. You shake your head, “just lemme see! Gimme an unboxing, at least!” you make grabby-hands at him, and he throws his head back, “nuh-uh. I’m putting it in the kitchen for later. You need a real dinner first, too.”

You fall back onto the couch with a huff, “as if you’ll be able to eat anything during the match anyways.”

“What was that?” he calls back tersely from the kitchen but you just blow air out through your nose, “nothing.”

As in defiance of him restricting you, you put four M&M’s in your mouth at the same time.

Just to prove a point.

He comes back out after he’s washed his face, and leans against your head, “what’s on now?”

He kisses your cheek.

“Luge.”

“Huh?”

“Sled.”

“Ah.”

He jumps the backrest of the couch to land next to you, and you laugh and dodge the arm that almost pulls your head down with his entire weight. The plastic of the M&M’s container crinkles as you lift it to offer him some. Instead of reaching for it like a normal person, he pushes his face into the bag like a freak, and you pull it away with a screech. He looks proud when he looks up, crunching loudly to prove he succeeded in getting a few.

You take a handful before you put the bag on the table and cuddle up to your boyfriend. He sighs as he settles with an arm around you and you start to watch the games silently.

There’s an awkward sort of silence from the commentators as the athletes ride on their sleds, like they’re holding their breath and waiting for something spectacular to happen at every turn, but it’s pretty straightforward. Technical, sure, but straightforward nonetheless. It’s only during the sharp turns that they really say anything, and it’s without much substance. It doesn’t really give a fair idea on how much skill is needed to do this.

You throw an M&M and succeed in catching it. “I could do that.” you conclude after a person reaches the goal, the successful catch fueling your ego. Kuroo doesn’t even spare you a glance or a visible reaction, “sure.”

You playfully punch at his thigh, “I totally could! It’s just downhill.”

Kuroo snorts, “yeah, then to the left in a sharp turn and oh! Right after that another sharp turn. I’d sooner see you crash walking up the stairs to the ice tube.”

You gasp in offense and sit up, shaking off his arm from your shoulder, “excuse me!” you say, your voice high-pitched and scratchy. Kuroo gives you one of his handsome, disarming, lop-sided smirks that you almost fall for, before you catch yourself.

He reaches out for you again but you move further away, “have you no confidence in me?” you mock-cry, giving him a look of absolute disgust, “are you all talk? Lowering the net for people to enjoy your favorite sport, but you don’t care about other athletics like me? Huh?” you cross your arms and pout, and Kuroo snickers at your choice of words before he leans his head back onto the backrest. Athletics.

“You can barely catch a stray piece of candy you throw yourself.”

You gasp, and point to the bag of M&M’s, “you saw me catching one just a minute ago!”

Kuroo lifts his arm, his hand closed in a fist. You follow his movement as he reaches out for you, turns the fist and reveals a half-melted M&M in his open palm, “there’s like six of them between these pillows right now.”

You raise an eyebrow, “so? That’s from when you stuck your head in the bag like a pig.” your exaggerated lie makes him nod thoughtfully, “yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’re right. You’d win, but not at luge.”

Your eyes open up, excitement visible as you lean forward, “what sport do you see me winning?”

Kuroo keeps his face neutral as he collects the fallen heroes of candy you've sacrificed to throw out, “you’d win a various of games, actually. You’d be the gold winner in all of them, even.”

You lean forward even more, and he laughs then, “qualifications for sports like overthinking situations that happened years ago, jumping to conclusions and complaining about your stomach hurting after eating dairy”- he’s interrupted when you push all the way onto him with your entire weight, smashing your face into his chest and immediately blowing a raspberry -”and best of all,” he laughs and feebly tries to push you away as you try to reach his neck to give it the same treatment, “being delusional on main, and hey! Stop it!”

He’s pushing at you more desperately now, unwilling to let you attack him directly on the skin. There’s mirth in his voice still and you giggle before you succeed. He howls and grabs onto your shoulders, “I yield! I yield! Fine! You’d win in luge!”

You pull away immediately as he yields, a satisfied grin on your face. “Hmph, now that wasn’t so hard, was it? To recognize talent for what it is.” you turn around and situate yourself again up against him and he lets out a chuckle as he kisses the crown of your head and wraps his arms around you.

After a moment of just resting his own head against yours, he asks, suddenly serious, “do you wanna try luge one day? There’s also luges for doubles. There’s a stadium for it downtown.”

“Oh, never in a million years.”

[shubblelive]

— HYPOTHETICAL CAT

summary : your first time staying with wilbur since the beginning of your long-distance relationship, and you're already dreading leaving him. luckily for you, you may not have to.

genre : fluff

warnings : slightly dialogue heavy?? not proofread unlike usual but i think we're good

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x cc!fem!reader

pronouns : none (you/yours) BUT wilbur referrs to reader as a girl

featuring : cc! wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where him and the reader have a long distance relationship? And one day when she comes and visits him, he admits he cant go such long periods of time without seeing her, so he proposes that she moves in with him, the rest is up to you, thank you! xx

word count : 873

note : okay i wrote this all in one day which i never do but it was a struggle. but, i power through for you guys. i hope you enjoy this <33333

No one told you when you started out that your favourite thing about content creation would be the webcam quality. Of course, it was definitely something you could live without, but on nights when it was just you and Wilbur, a video call on your desktop as your sun rose and his set, the fact that you could see him in picture perfect vision was occasionally the only thing holding you together. 

But then suddenly, he was right in front of you.

You and Wilbur had been together for nearly three years, meeting at a creator event ages ago. You’d seen him at a panel and he’d waited in line to meet you just to give you his phone number, asking you to call him, and two weeks later he was calling you darling. 

You’d known at that first meeting that you lived awfully far from each other, but that hadn’t been thought of as a particularly big issue until the two of you started dating, and then it was comparable to torture. You’d have semi-regular meetings where he’d fly to your place and stay with you for a couple of days. This time, though, this was different.

“You have been holding out on me,” your voice was heavy with sleep, your head in Wilbur’s lap as the two of you watched something, some nature documentary that was playing so softly it was almost designed to put you to sleep. “Your couch is so much more comfortable than mine is.”

Wilbur looked down at you fondly. “My bad,” he laughed steadily, careful not to be too loud. “I guess I thought that if you got to experience the wonders of my sofa you’d only wanna come here, I wouldn’t get to come see you as much.”

“I knew you and Mr Gardener had some weird thing going on,” you said, accusatory with a smile draped across your face.

“He makes you bread!” Wilbur defended. “How are you not obsessed with him?”

You cracked one of your eyes open sleepily, hand coming up to reach for his. He took it eagerly, drinking in your figure as you lay on his couch. “I’m pretty sure he’s not the one doing it.”

Wilbur threw his head back to rest against the couch, letting out a puff of air. “Okay, maybe Emily is the one doing the actual baking, but you can’t tell me that Mr Gardener doesn’t add to the experience.”

“I’m sure he does.” You hummed.

“You can not seriously tell me that baking a loaf of bread is not made infinitely better by the presence of a cat.”

You paused. “Okay, okay. It would be.”

Wilbur let out a pleased noise, moving down to run his hands up and down the exposed skin by your collarbone. “We should get a cat,”

His voice was barely loud enough for you to hear it, your eyes closed and his voice heavy with exhaustion. The two of you had been out all day on the first day of your visit, finally taking a moment to rest. 

“Should we?” You mused. “Who gets custody?”

Wilbur made a choking sound like the answer was obvious. “Well- I would, right?”

You forced yourself up, yawning as you brought your knees to your chest. “Why am I jealous of our hypothetical cat right now?”

Wilbur chuckled and reached for you, sitting forward on his knees, gently tugging at your calves until he was resting on your chest. “You don’t have to be,” he pointed out. “I’ve got a very big bed. And an entire section of wardrobe that I’m not using, and-”

“Wilbur,” you chided. “You know it’s not as easy as me simply never going home. Believe me, if I could spend the rest of my life curled into this couch, I would but-”

Wilbur sighed dramatically, pulling himself off you and standing up. “There you go, dream crusher,” he let out an exaggerated groan, taking you by the hand and pulling you up. His cheek was pressed against the side of your face, hands interlocked. “Crushing my dreams all crush-ier and dreamy.”

You let out a giggle as he poked your side. “You think I’m dreamy?”

“So dreamy,” he nodded. “Dream girl material right here, loves me, loves our future cat-”

“Loves your sofa,” you added dreamily. 

“And before I let you two get a room, please just consider moving in with me?” He begged gently. “Come on, wouldn’t it be so nice? Just you and me, I’d even let you name the cat. Please?”

“I’m not doing it for you.” You conceded. “I’m doing it for Rhubarb and all of the future kisses I am going to get from him on my new couch.”

He kissed you on the forehead. “Okay, I’ll leave you guys alone, I see where I’m not wanted.” He pressed another one on the side of your mouth.

“No,” you groaned, trying to drag him back on the couch. “I don’t have our cat yet, I need someone to shower me with affection.”

He huffed as he sat back on the couch, letting you collapse on top of him, revelling in the comfortable weight of you pressed against him. “Fine, fine. If I must.”

[justplainwhump]

Season's Greetings

After last week's poll (thank you so much to everyone who participated!), here's the Christmas special for 238/training!Angel.

This is dedicated to and inspired by @angst-after-dark, Thane Barlow is their character.

As to be expected, it is pretty much leaning into smut. Enjoy!

[Making Angel]

Content/warnings: BBU, facility whump, institutional whump, nsfwhump, recorded whump, dubcon use of toys, male whumpers with female whumpee, whumper pov.

Walking through the hallways of facility 002 before Christmas was special, somehow. Even without any decoration among the sterile white, there was a festive mood to be felt, just from the way the handlers smiled when they greeted each other, or the spring to their steps.

The trainees wouldn't get any gifts for Christmas.

But the employees, they did.

As head handler, Jared Grimm had introduced various employee benefits; one of them a very popular Christmas tombola. Not everyone could get the main prize - taking home a pet over the holidays - especially not given the often more delicate nature of facility 002's acquisitions, but there were several more prizes: a full cleaning of the home before the relatives arrived, catering for Christmas dinner, a full styling and hairdo, all declared part of the facility's Domestics' training, all doing wonders for the workplace climate.

And there was of course, another choice group to receive Christmas gifts. Clients. Pretty much every case they handled in facility 002 was personal, meaningful for the prospective owners, and insanely price, too.

Personally tailored Season's Greetings were the least the facility could do.

Jared looked down at the instructions on his tablet. Alex had prepared a little script for each of the greetings. 238's prospective was to get a video. Technically, her primary handlers was meant to speak the opening words, but Alan Nguyen hadn't as much glanced at the notes, just lifted the Santa hat with two fingers and handed it back to Jared. "I did my professional due. Humiliating the girl. I will not humiliate myself for that douche and be his clown in a Santa hat. You do that alright."

Jared rolled his eyes. Arrogant douche himself. But Jared couldn't afford to annoy him - plus, he was the best handler they had, and there could be worse than spending some quality time with one of his trainees.

He pulled the hat over his head and nodded at the cameraman, waiting for his prompt to start speaking. "Good day, Mr Barlow! I'm Jared Grimm, WRU head handler, and it's my honor to send you Christmas greetings in the name of the entire company! We have a little something prepared for you behind this door, in honor of holiday season! Let's have a look!"

Jared got how it could feel little degrading indeed, playing the cheerful entertainer, but he was a WRU handler - he'd gone through worse for a lot less.

The door opened at a swipe of his card with a beep and a click, and cameraman panned to the door, filming through the crack where the dim flicker of christmas lights filled the room.

Angel, Alex had noted. Client seems to like angel analogies for this product (quote: "Make her be my Angel, and make her love it").

And they had taken this literally today.

Jared stared for a second, giving the cameraman time to slowly, carefully catch every detail of 238's flawless presentation.

She was wearing sheer white lingerie, that covered nothing yet emphasised everything. Her golden hair was curled into soft locks and crowned with a glittering halo, and small feathery wings strapped to her back over a short golden cape. Golden glitter was applied to her body as well, shimmering on her collarbone and chest.

She smiled at Jared, flirtatious and confident, curving her body in just the right ways for the camera to catch her.

She didn't kneel, though, to his slight dismay. It made sense for the order, of course. A luxury pet. For a demanding client.

Jared was a stranger to her - and she wouldn't kneel for just anyone.

"Well, good day, 002238," Jared said. There wasn't a script for her. Trainees didn't need to be told to act. Their entire being was a performance, and he expected her to excel at it. "You're special, aren't you? A very precious, very special pet for a very special owner." He reached out to clip a golden leash to the soft golden leather collar around her neck. (Prospective: "She will look better in a leash.")

"Of course I am," she whispered, and Jared was struck by the perfect counterpoints of the almost confident smile tugging at her lip and her gaze devoutly cast down. "I'm special for you, and I will be perfect for my owner."

Jared felt the pinpricks of an urge to discipline her, make her perfect for himself. It was part of her configuration of course, just like the part about not kneeling. A slight air of arrogance, but always submissive to her owner - and only him. Showing off her master's luxury.

Nguyen had outdone himself.

"You will be," Jared assured her, lifting her chin towards him. Glitter was smeared over her cheeks, too, sparkling between her freckles. "You're a beautiful product. Why don't you smile at the camera, tell your owner yourself? Season's greetings."

A soft blush blossomed on her cheeks underneath the gold, perfectly crafted, and still so natural. "He's... is he watching?"

"He is," Jared said.

Shivering, she sank to her knees. "Happy holidays, Sir," she whispered into the camera. "I can't wait to be yours."

"Why don't you show him just how much?"

"How?" She looked up at him, her dark eyes seeming even deeper among all the glitter.

"Get... Get on that table, 238." Jared didn't even try to hide the hoarse roughness tinting his voice. The product worked. It was always something else, if you hadn't trained them yourself. Even after more than two decades on the job, feeling that power over the entirety of another human was thrilling.

She got to her feet, with a grace that would seem natural to any outsider but perfectly matched that of any other WRU product, and swung herself on the edge of the table, legs dangling, upper body leaning backwards, presenting her cute breasts once more.

Jared's own trainees, back in the day, would've all been trained to be on their back already, presenting a whole different view.

This one was still keeping eye contact. Not with Jared, though. With the camera. "I hope I fullfil everything you desire." Her voice was tinted with arousal, and Jared couldn't even tell if it was fake or real. It didn't matter. Her hand ran over her body, playing with the straps tied around her, fingers idly circling her nipples.

The cameraman shifted his weight nervously, pressed his thighs together, and Jared smirked. She worked just as she should.

"Here," he mumbled, as he stepped in with the finishing decor - golden clamps, adorned with tiny bells that jingled when he fixed them to her nipples. The noise was lovely, but even more so was her sharp little gasp.

"238 isn't trained for pain," Jared said to the camera. "But she promised us, she'll take it for you."

"Anything," 238 said. "I love you, Sir. I love to be whatever you want me to be. I'm ready."

They hadn't told her to say that. Or what to do. But as any well trained Romantic should, when told to perform while none of her betters made a move, she did it on her own. She let herself sink onto her back on the padded table - finally - crossed her hands above her head and slowly, almost teasingly, opened her legs. This time, the gasp came from the camera man, staring at the diamond nestled in between her folds.

Jared bit back a chuckle. Yeah. That one was a sight.

"Good girl," he murmured, reaching for the seasonal fastenings he'd brought - a rough rope, entwined with fairy lights - and fixated her ankles to the table before he moved on to bind her hands above her head. "You'll be so good for your owner."

Still standing behind her head, he pulled a vibrator from his pocket, as golden as herself, and presented it to the camera. "Mr Barlow, here's your gift. The card we delivered to you held a small golden controller. Would you push the upper button on it?"

It took a moment, before the vibrator hummed to life in Jared's hand.

The pet shivered at the noise, already conditioned so perfectly, and a soft jingle sounded from the bells on her.

"And now press the other?"

238 back arched, and she let out a surprised cry of pain, the bells rattling.

Jared reached out and ran a caressing finger over her breast. "There's electrodes in the clamps, at your free disposal."

Jared pulled back his hand a second up late, when she seizured again, his hand thrumming with the remainder of a tiny shock. Seemed like the owner's kind of humor. Great then. He'd hopefully enjoy this whole display.

"Be good, 238," Jared whispered to her. "He's watching."

The vibrator was buzzing in his hand, wildly alive, as he slid it into her with practised ease.

She was wet already. If Jared assessed correctly, she'd stay so for a long, long while. Her owner wouldn't make this easy for her.

But then again, that was exactly what they'd made her for.

Jared waved at the camera, now mounted on a tripod. "Merry Christmas, Mr Barlow. We'll leave you to it in private now."

The cameraman swallowed, as he stepped back, wiping his palms on his pants. "You can wait in the observation room," Jared said to him, quietly enough for the camera not to catch their voices. "There's tissues, if you need them."

Jared might tune into the livestream from his office he thought. Or not. After all, he'd definitely be the one to get the privilege of being with 238 after Barlow was done. He preferred being the only one in charge.

He pulled off the Santa hat and ruffled a hand through his hair, ignoring the pet's moans behind him. As he followed the cameraman outside and raised his card to lock the door, the last thing he heard was the pet's sincere whisper.

"I love you, Sir."

[trickstarbrave]

concubine au part 4. part 3 can be found here

content warnings: abuse and slavery mentioned, but mostly this is just them acting to throw off some shitheads off their trail. i recommend looking at the other parts too tbh

no actual smut this part but def in the next part lol

In the days that followed, Nerevar was genuinely embarrassed he got so into the act. He couldn’t believe himself--getting so turned on from something like that? Luckily, Voryn didn’t seem to mind, acting as though nothing was unusual. Likely, he thought it was just pretend on Nerevar’s part, or just him blowing off steam and relaxing to the thought of someone familiar touching him. 

But Nerevar knew. He knew he was playing with fire. But they were too far in it now to turn back, so he had to just be careful not to get burned. 

They continued their practice, Nerevar slowly developing the persona he intended to put on that played off Voryn well. They continued establishing boundaries, getting used to each other’s touch to the point anyone would think they were lovers rather than two friends acting. They did everything Nerevar could think of as necessary to practice--not just sex, but touching, flirting, eating… He sat on the floor at Voryn’s feet sometimes while Voryn worked, letting the other play with his hand absentmindedly. He ate from Voryn’s hand, both docility and stubbornly, getting used to Voryn acting angry. They even discussed how to fake ‘punishments’ and settled on illusion magic with some light slapping to sell it.

And then it finally came--a letter was delivered by a servant of House Dres, asking if Voryn had any idea where Nerevar was. Voryn had been acting innocent enough, not paying House Dres any mind now that his ‘business deal’ was taken care of. Just as they planned, he acted annoyed, sending a letter explaining Anaryl sold Nerevar off to Voryn and he had all the paperwork in order, sending copies. He didn’t even let on that he knew he was dead.

House Dres acted similarly. No doubt their initial plan was to corner him and demand answers when he denied it, but seeing him being open and covering his tracks so thoroughly must have thrown them off. Predictable, at least to Nerevar. Instead they changed tactics, now explaining there was something unusual going on in House Dres and they wanted to come speak in person to sort out all the details. 

Just in the nick of time, Nerevar’s new clothes befitting his status as ‘concubine’ were finished. They were of much finer quality than anything he wore in House Dres--luxurious fabrics with careful details and embroidery, leaving more of his body exposed. Plenty of gold and even ebony jewelry was added on top, selling the look. Voryn even left a few love bites here and there across his skin; a few on his neck, collarbone, even a couple on his inner thighs you’d only catch a few glimpses of as he walked. The goal was to sell the illusion he was Voryn’s most prized possession, and every inch of Nerevar’s appearance made that clear. But probably, the nicest part of it all, was the level of care Voryn put into picking the outfits. He made sure they were comfortable for Nerevar, and also gave him the freedom of movement he preferred. When relaxing he could stretch out, walk around comfortably, or even run if need be. 

Before when he was dressed in such a way he hated every second of it. He hated the fabric either being too heavy or clinging to his skin too much. He hated the feminine cut of the clothes being too tight in some areas and too baggy in others. Nerevar felt like a joke in House Dres, and Anaryl practically treated him like one, doing everything to either humiliate or hurt him. But here… Here he felt like he had agency. Like he was important. Voryn cared, always accounting for Nerevar’s tastes and comfort every step of the way. 

And then the noblemen of House Dres arrived: five nobles total, along with several servants and a handful of scribes. An excess of people for what should be just discussing a prior business deal they didn’t know about, ruffling a few feathers of other people in House Dagoth. 

“Are you ready?” Voryn asked quietly, fussing over Nerevar’s clothes and hair one final time. The servants put a few braids and beds in it, before styling his mohawk. They even added a bit of kohl to his eyes, per Nerevar’s request; Nerevar thought it both suited the clothes, and if he cried it would be very apparent, appealing to the sadism of the noblemen who wanted to see him brought low. 

“I’ll be fine.” Nerevar smiled, taking one of Voryn’s hands into his own. “Are your spies in place?” 

“Yes.” Voryn replied. Nerevar had anticipated some of the ‘servants’ they were bringing were actually spies trying to find dirt on them. But this was the territory and stronghold of House Dagoth; Voryn would allow the spies only so much freedom, just enough to get ‘evidence’ that proved their story true. If any of them actually tried to dig through paperwork, or even actually enter Voryn and Nerevar’s rooms, they would be killed swiftly and used against House Dres. “We’ll play it by ear, alright?” Voryn finished with Nerevar’s hair, before his hand slid down the side of his neck. “One more thing…”

“What…?” Nerevar asked, suppressing a shiver from the touch, before gasping softly as Voryn moved down, sucking on a spot that would be very visible. Nerevar moaned softly, clinging to him as Voryn made sure it was nice and dark, before pulling away and rubbing his thumb across the new bruise.

“Just the finishing touch.” Voryn smiled, almost apologetically, but with a little mischief in his eyes. Nerevar chucked softly.

“C’mon…” Nerevar let himself get led out of the bedroom, Voryn now tugging him roughly by the wrist. He hid his smile well, instead staring down at the floor as they walked, following behind Voryn obediently. Part of him was still anxious seeing the noblemen again, but not as much as he anticipated. He felt well supported and protected here; the walls of the stronghold were familiar and comforting, and Voryn would be sure to remove him from the situation if the need arose. They even worked out a non-verbal way for Nerevar to say he wanted out, in case talking was impossible or would be more suspicious. 

Entering the room, Voryn looked annoyed and disgruntled, though trying to be polite. “Apologies for the delay,” Voryn said, taking a seat on a luxurious chair in the sitting room, a cushion already prepared to the side by a servant. There, Nerevar kneeled as though trained, moving slowly and hesitantly to put his head on Voryn’s thigh. After a few seconds of waiting, Voryn tugged him closer, making Nerevar lay his head on his lap, cheek pressed to his thigh. Despite the sour look on his face, it was oddly comforting for Nerevar; he could smell Voryn clearly with his face practically buried in his robes, the scent grounding him despite the other noblemen in their presence. Voryn then began stroking Nerevar’s hair, leaving the brand new bruise exposed. “I was simply taking care of a few things.”

“No apologies needed,” The highest member, Dres Galar replied, “In fact, I would like to apologize for coming so suddenly.”

Voryn rested his face on his hand, looking at them skeptically. Nothing about his posture was closed off; he looked like he had absolutely nothing to hide. He even brought Nerevar with him as though he dragged Nerevar everywhere, something they hadn’t been anticipating. Already, they were off to a good start. “I trust you came for something important…?”

Galar cleared his throat now, taking on a more serious tone as he looked over the document a servant from House Dres handed him. 

“The documents you provided seem to be in order,” He explained. “And the transfer of ownership seems legitimate.” Of course it did, Nerevar thought to himself, Voryn and his spies were experts at faking documents, especially with Nerevar’s knowledge helping them. “We simply find it…” Dres Galar’s eyes locked with Nerevar’s, earning him a harsh glare from the other chimer. “Unusual that one of our own would die so soon after selling off his favorite slave.” 

A servant from House Dagoth came over with a long pipe in hand, filled with various fragrant herbs. Voryn only really smoked in front of others, adding to his air of maturity and authority. Seeing Nerevar was glaring though he gave a sharp tug to his hair, making Nerevar hiss, before giving a short, barely suppressed whimper as he buried his face into Voryn’s robes. 

“It’s quite unfortunate timing.” Voryn remarked, blowing out smoke as he talked, his tone entirely unsympathetic.. “As sad as it is though, it’s beyond my control whether he lives or dies, so I fail to see why you’re bringing it up to me.” 

“He was executed by the Morag Tong mere hours after you left his residence.” Galar said firmly.

“And what? Should I have known and stayed later to prevent it? Intervened? Paid them off?” Voryn scoffed, as though he believed they were accusing him of not preventing it rather than orchestrating it. “Their duty is to fulfill their writ with as few witnesses as possible. As a worshiper of Mephala, why would I get in the way of it even if I knew?”

“Did you have him killed?” Galar asked outright, eyes boring into Voryn’s. Voryn’s face remained impassive, his mask not cracking for an instant. 

“There was no need.” Voryn said dismissively. “I hardly even knew him. We had one business transaction.” Voryn brough the long, elegant pipe to his lips, inhaling, before blowing out another cloud of fragrant smoke. “Even if I did, for whatever reason, it’s not as though it’s illegal. I’d discourage you from seeking out whoever paid for his death.” He said that with the same tone someone would scold a child with, making a vein in Dres Galar’s face grow prominent, though he continued to try and act polite. 

“... He seems much more docile than he was under Anaryl’s care.” Galar instead turned his attention to Nerevar. Nerevar tensed slightly, but Voryn kept his cool. 

“He needed some discipline, that’s all.” Voryn explained. “He can still be disobedient from time to time,” Voryn was now playing with Nerevar’s hair, running through the long waves that ran down his back, before twirling a strand around his finger. “But I know just how to keep him in line.”

“I’ve been told you knew him before all this.” Galar smiled, thinking he had found a way to get under Voryn’s skin. “That the two of you were quite close, in fact, and that you had been looking for him.”

It wasn’t a secret, of course. But Voryn still remained calm and collected, smoking absentmindedly. 

“I did know him well, since childhood in fact.” He elaborated. “He ran off after a little…. Spat, shall we say.” The corners of Voryn’s mouth twitched up into a barely suppressed sly grin. “I was beside myself trying to bring him back, only to find out Dres Anaryl had him…” He blew another cloud of smoke, before his fingers moved to brush against Nerevar’s ear, making him hiss and squirm. It felt good, but Nerevar acted disgusted and annoyed with the action, his hips shifting on the pillow. “Not that I can blame Anaryl; he’s quite a beautiful little thing,” Voryn now looked down, tilting Nerevar’s chin up to look at him. Nerevar bared his teeth slightly, his cheeks flushed. “Aren’t you?” He asked, his voice dropping to an almost seductive tone. 

“Fuck you.” Nerevar muttered, barely audible. At that, Voryn’s eyes went dark as he took Nerevar by the jaw firmly. 

“Don’t make me reprimand you again, Neht.” His voice was gravely and deep like this, and Nerevar almost felt ashamed at how arousing it was to hear. His nails dug into Nerevar’s skin just enough to leave crescent shaped marks. “Just sit there and be a good boy,” Voryn’s voice was very low now, as though it was only for Nerevar to hear, “Understood?” 

“... Yes sir…” Came Nerevar’s reluctant response, as he looked away in faux disgust. 

“I didn’t think you would be so cruel as to keep a former friend in such a state.” Galar added, watching the scene unfold with heavy skepticism in his eyes. 

“Our relationship is very… Complex.” Voryn explained. “Friendship can be such a fragile thing in the end, easily disrupted by things such as duty, battle…” Voryn then smirked softly and sadistically as he forced Nerevar’s mouth open, sliding his thumb against his teeth as Nerevar’s eyes screwed shut in pure revulsion. “... Even affection.” He then ran his thumb against Nerevar’s tongue, watching him groan and try to pull away to no avail. “Circumstances change, and sometimes you need to make sacrifices.” Voryn then pulled his thumb out of Nerevar’s mouth, wiping the spit on Nerevar’s cheek, admiring the look of defiance in his eyes. 

“But do trust I will protect what’s mine, in my own way.” Voryn spoke, still looking at Nerevar’s eyes as if it was something specifically for the chimer at his feet to hear rather than anyone else. And then, he looked back up at Galar. “It may be cruel in the eyes of some, but our relationship is very layered and deep. We understand each other better than anyone.” Voryn looked absolutely sick with desire as he looked down at Nerevar, making him shudder involuntarily. Goosebumps broke out over his skin, though not from disgust as others might think. “Isn’t that right, Neht?” 

Nerevar didn’t have a good response, so instead he held his tongue, trying to look away. Voryn tugged his chin up more, his eyes demanding a response. His lips formed a thin line, refusing to respond, making Voryn give a long, disappointed sigh. “You always try my patience as of late, don’t you…” Voryn muttered, before letting go with a bit of aggression in his movements. 

“I suppose your relationships are none of my business.” Galar seemed to be convinced of their act for now, looking a little disgusted at the display. “Apologies again for the interruption. We would just hate to find out there might have been some foul play and theft at work.”

“You would accuse me of theft?” Voryn raised an eyebrow.

“No no,” Galar back peddled, laughing awkwardly. “I would never go so far as to accuse you of theft. I’m certain the young lord of House Dagoth has more than enough gold to buy one measly little slave.” He elaborated, trying to smooth it over. “But from an outsider's perspective the timing was quite ill fated, and if we don’t at least act like we’re looking into it, well…” Galar gave an apologetic smile. “Others might assume we are weak willed or fool hardy.” 

“Well we wouldn’t want that.” Voryn replied. “The dignity of Great Houses should always be preserved.” Voryn added, playing into the unity House Dres clung to. One might think House Dres would be combative and petty given their reputation as slave and plantation owners, but they actually supported the other Great Houses strongly, wanting to stand united. It’s why they appealed to law and the court system rather than only handling disputes themselves, after all. 

“I’m glad you feel the same.” Galar rose from his seat. “If it won’t trouble you, Lord Dagoth, we’ll only stay a few days and then leave back to Tear to finish sorting this out.” Voryn nodded as though he didn’t care one way or the other. “Rest assured, once we return back we’ll make sure your name is cleared.”

“That would be appreciated.” Voryn continued to rest in his seat, now stroking Nerevar’s hair once again. The men filed out to be escorted to their guest rooms, while Nerevar inwardly sighed in relief they were finally gone. After confirming the room was in fact entirely empty, Voryn set the pipe aside, inviting Nerevar to move up onto his lap. 

Nerevar could excuse it even though they weren’t acting at the moment as simply a precaution. After all, it was possible one of the noblemen would return claiming they “forgot” something. If Nerevar was seated on Voryn’s lap whispering in his ear, that was expected of a concubine. 

“You did well.” Voryn praised him as Nerevar rested comfortably against him, his head on Voryn’s shoulder. 

“Mm,” Nerevar hummed. “I barely did anything. You’re the one who did most of it.” 

“But your actions sold it.” Voryn smiled softly. “You aren’t uncomfortable anywhere, right?” 

Well, he wasn’t, except for his underwear getting soaked. But Voryn didn’t need to know that, so Nerevar shook his head. 

“I’m fine…” Gods Nerevar wished he could kiss him, but he knew he couldn’t afford to risk everything just to satisfy himself. Kissing was fine during practice or acting, but he reminded himself he wasn’t actually Voryn’s lover. They were friends--good friends who had to act like this due to circumstances. Nothing more or less. Voryn was doing him a favor, and Nerevar didn’t want to take advantage of it. 

“Should we put on another show?” Nerevar offered. “Plenty of time before dinner,” He continued, “And I’m sure it would really convince them of it.” He was telling the truth; from their act they would think Voryn could barely keep his hands off Nerevar, eager to take advantage of him now that Nerevar couldn’t escape. It would be unusual for them to not hear a lord and his new, beloved little concubine having sex, wouldn’t it? 

“What did you have in mind?” Voryn asked, rubbing gently at Nerevar’s scalp just like he knew Nerevar liked it. 

“Hmm…” Nerevar hummed contemplatively. “The baths could work,” The public bath was closer to the guest rooms after all, just within ear shot. “Or if you don’t mind the servants seeing us, you could take me in the hall.” Voryn’s fingers stopped their slow, small circles on his scalp for a brief moment, before they continued. 

“... The hall might be more convincing.” Voryn’s voice was slightly quieter. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Nerevar stressed. “No no,” Voryn replied, “It would work the best. Besides,” Voryn gave a soft, reassuring smile. “I have an idea in mind.” Nerevar raised a brow, earning a chuckle. 

“How about this,” Voryn whispered softly in his ear. “I’ll act like I’m reprimanding you, scolding and spanking you while you struggle,” Nerevar already liked the sound of that; spanking was one of the few ‘punishments’ he really didn’t mind. “Before I take you hard and fast right against the wall.” 

“Sounds good.” Nerevar answered, trying hard to not let his own arousal show. Instead, he offered a mischievous grin as he and Voryn stood up.

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

my Akatsuki Secret Santa gift for @lasersight! @akatsuki-gift-exchange

waterpark antics with a photobooth feature! ...aaand my on-brand sappy romance ^^;

also on Ao3 here!

It’s rare to find a completely secluded spot anywhere in the dead heat of summer, people crowding the high mountains for hikes and the low oceans for swimming, in transition from the lines of one food stall to the similarly unmoving ones of another—the middle season one of time if nothing else—but perhaps they’d simply lucked out today, chosen a spot early enough in the morning that no one would encroach on their space now, even with the sun obscenely high and bright, all other, open spaces at capacity.

Their spot was an alcove, shaded half by trees with the other half in the full sun, the minute waves moving with the wind, one moment dark blue, completely white the next. Itachi was in that shaded space, laid out long, almost meditating with the slight breeze that broke up the near abyssal heat, with the sound of the water making space for an extra body, for a welcomed intrusion, for Kisame’s professional quality dive into the deep end.

He favored the warm spots instead, bounding off the side in the shade so he’d be propelled forward, fully into the sun, sometimes basking, sleepily, with his head on his shoulder, over the lip of the pool where water met an edge and turned to tile, and other times doing so even beneath the water, lying flat on his back, breathing slowly through his gills, watching how the light warped with the waves and drew abstracts onto his skin, taking the occasional peek at the sun out of the corner of his vision as if it were a beach ball floating on the surface of the water.

He knows Itachi likes to take it easy, to take full advantage of their breaks by resting, barely even moving much (unless it’s to, readily, eagerly, go out to get tea and dango), but it doesn’t stop him from trying to get Itachi in the water, or bringing it to him if need be, each dive getting more and more sloppy, water spilling out of the pool, inching closer to his partner’s sun chair until a cannonball, the momentum for such a splash well-prepped by long leaps on tile, successfully sends a rush of water onto him, soaking him completely and knocking his sunglasses askew.

Rising from his chair and tucking his now wet hair behind his ears, Itachi dips his legs in up to the calves, tracing where the water encircles his knees, where the light makes haloes, content to spend some time in the sun after all. They talk about everything, everything work doesn’t give them time for, when even meal breaks are spent in tense, terse silence, and are still chatting—Kisame electing not to towel off, Itachi barely even sweating—when they pack themselves tightly, side by side, into the photobooth by the inlet to the hotel.

Kisame’s all teeth, wide smile happily creasing the already-present lines on his face, while Itachi keeps himself inexpressive, save for one hand up, palm facing outward, fingers in a V shape. He picks a color—bright, full gold—and traces Kisame’s features in the photo, as he would touch skin with his fingers in reality, traces those gill lines, making them radiate outward even more so than usual, like the sun at its zenith. In return, Kisame drags sparkles into Itachi’s eyes and outlines his undereye lines in pink, adding to the pink cat whiskers selected immediately, naturally.

The next picture has them both serious, arms crossed and backs straight at the same time, without planning it that way, which makes the photo following blurred in laughter. Even when humor has their bodies jostled in opposite directions, they still gravitate towards one another, always needing to be touching in some way, fingers on their way to being entwined, free hands supportive on their shoulders, where collarbones give way to soft muscle, to bodies they know better than anything else.

The last photo is left unedited, save for a border of hearts and shooting stars, the focus on Kisame nosing at Itachi’s temple, lips paused in the faintest kiss, with Itachi’s expression frozen the same, in perpetual, unending calm, contentedness—bliss. They walk back to their room the same way they arrived, the same way they’d spent their afternoon: unbothered by the crowds, keeping to themselves, close as if melded together in the heat, remade into one singular being.

The blinds are drawn, leftover from the morning, Itachi’s eyes overly sensitive, even to the slivers of light edging the windows, unable to be smothered completely, and the room is warm then cool then cold—Kisame half and half about it; wanting relief from how the sun baked his scales, dried even the tender, protected space underneath, but turning off the air conditioning after every few minutes of it on, teetering just as easily on the edge of being too cold.

He still doesn’t know what he wants, back curved in a bad position where he’s hunched at the end of the bed, waiting through two minutes of hushed, rushed air before he decides it’s, once again, too much, trapped in a cycle of his own doing—before Itachi breaks it up, motioning him over, cold air still flowing steadily from where the unit’s fixed solidly in the wall.

There’s a position he knows well, a place that’s all his to inhabit, and it’s nestled underneath Itachi’s arm, curled into his side, forehead against the warm, untouched spot of the side of his neck. He can hear his heart beat there, can almost feel the blood flow in proximity to the jugular, like there’s no other sound in the room but that, no other beings in the universe other than they two, no other measure of time but tonight, and he places a large hand over Itachi’s sternum, slows his own breathing to time the beats evenly, until they’re one and the same, taking the feeling literally into his hands—to make sure it never goes away.

[zilvercraft]

Hey there, jewelry enthusiasts! Are you ready to dive into the dazzling world of silver jewelry online? Well, you're in for a treat because we're about to uncover the magic of these exquisite pieces that can instantly transform your look and elevate your style game.

Whether you're a minimalist at heart or someone who loves to go bold, there's something in the realm of silver jewelry that speaks to everyone. So, grab your favorite cup of coffee, get comfy, and let's embark on this silver-adorned journey together!

Why Choose Silver Jewelry Online?

Silver jewelry has been adorning humanity for centuries, and its timeless charm still captivates us to this day. But why should you consider exploring the world of silver jewelry online? Here's why:

Versatility: One of the most amazing things about silver jewelry is its versatility. It seamlessly complements both casual and formal outfits, making it the perfect accessory for any occasion.

Affordability: Unlike other precious metals, silver offers a stunning aesthetic without breaking the bank. This makes it accessible to everyone who wants to add a touch of elegance to their ensemble.

Trendy Yet Timeless: Silver jewelry beautifully combines the best of both worlds. It can effortlessly adapt to the latest trends while maintaining a classic, timeless appeal.

Exploring the Online Silver Haven

Now that you're excited about silver jewelry, it's time to explore the vast world of online options. When you're shopping for silver jewelry online, keep these tips in mind:

Reputation Matters: Opt for reputable online stores with positive reviews and a history of quality products. This ensures that you're investing in genuine silver pieces.

Check for Purity: Authentic silver jewelry should be stamped with a "925" mark, indicating its 92.5% silver content. This is the standard purity for sterling silver jewelry.

Variety Galore: From delicate silver necklaces that grace your collarbone to bold statement rings that demand attention, the world of online silver jewelry offers a plethora of options to suit your personal style.

Must-Have Silver Pieces in Your Collection

Ready to fill your jewelry box with silver treasures? Here are some must-have pieces that deserve a spot in your collection:

Classic Silver Necklace: A simple, elegant silver necklace can be your everyday companion. Whether it's a dainty pendant or a sleek chain, this piece adds subtle sophistication to any outfit.

Charming Bracelets: Layering silver bracelets can create a captivating wrist look. Mix and match different styles, from cuffs to bangles, to express your individuality.

Elegant Earrings: From timeless studs to elaborate chandeliers, silver earrings frame your face with a touch of grace and charm.

Statement Rings: Let your fingers do the talking with eye-catching silver rings. From intricate designs to minimalist bands, there's a silver ring for every mood.

Caring for Your Silver Treasures

To ensure that your silver jewelry stands the test of time, a little TLC goes a long way:

Regular Cleaning: Gently clean your silver pieces with a soft cloth to remove dirt and tarnish. You can also use a silver polishing cloth to restore their shine.

Storage Matters: Store your silver jewelry in a cool, dry place. Consider using anti-tarnish pouches or boxes to prevent oxidation.

As you step into the enchanting world of silver jewelry online, remember that each piece holds the potential to tell a story and reflect your unique style. Whether you're drawn to delicate designs or bold statements, silver jewelry has the power to transform your look and boost your confidence. So, go ahead and explore the online realm of silver treasures – you're bound to find something that resonates with your inner shine!

That's a wrap on our journey through the realm of silver jewelry online. We hope you're as excited as we are about the endless possibilities that await you. Until next time, stay stylish and keep shining bright! Source: https://zilvercraftsilverjewellryonline.blogspot.com/2023/10/sparkle-and-shine-with-stunning-silver.html

[hyunverse]

hehehehe ur cute. i’m so happy to hear ur day was good :)). i cry at movies too 😔. this is so embarrassing but i legit cried at the end of the sonic movie like the 2020 one … IT WAS JUST A SOFT ENDING OKAY 😔😔😔. I COULDNT HELP IT 😔😔. SAME grocery shopping is smth i always look forward to. i swear the cereal section is the best bc it’s just so bright. like everything else has such bland packaging and then the cereal section is just boom color and happy characters and cute logos like it’s just the best. THEY HAD MY FAVE PASTRYY it’s called spanakopita and it’s soooo yum. it’s a spinach and ricotta blend in this rly flakey pastry it’s so so so good. same i love them all sm. andddd let’s just say the dogs here are definitely city dogs so they’re a lot more immune ….? to odd things …? and to doing odd things ???? and their owners just aren’t even phased it’s so strange 😭

LMFAO ITS TRUE THEYRE LIKE DORITOS 😭😭 yep ik exactly what ur talking about and it’s perfffff. nothing better than some nice collarbones too. they look so delicate and kissable gahhhh. hyunjins make me dizzy. sooooo delicate and longgggg he’s so <333333333. victor 100% unreachable visual who is the blueprint. howl pendragon can come into my life and ruin it rn now pls. talk about perfect man ?? like yes bring him here pls 🙏🏼. LIKE AN ERASER 😭😭 UR LITERALLY RIGHT BC WHY R THEY SO HUGE ?? i love it tho hehe

ohhhh okay yes that makes sense, that’s so cool to think of. all the fast food in america sucks tbh 💔. i’d much rather mcdonalds from another country than whatever we have. every fast food thing here is just … boring. and expensive now so you’re better off just going somewhere else yk ? agreed i don’t customize my orders ever, but i do like to add cold foam to my coffee hehe. it’s just so rich and creamy and delish. and the machines are always “broken” bc they just don’t want to clean it 😭. they’re a pain to clean so i understand but if i want a mcflurry, i want a mcflurry 😠. andddd now i’m craving pandan leaf chicken as well <///3 so smokey and delish grrrr i love food

HYUNJIN DOES FLIRT THROUGH DANCING OMFG. he’s so perfect i actually get frustrated. like i don’t understand how someone can have that many ideal qualities and just exist. how does he live w himself knowing he is the IDEAL MAN ?? IDEK WHAT ID DO W MYSELF. FELIX IS DEFFF ACTING UP. but seeing this confidence on him is so attractive 🤭🤭🤭. i feel like that’s another thing that makes hyunes dancing so attractive bc you can tell he’s so content while doing it and how all of his moves are so articulated GAHHH i could watch him dance all day. imagine dating him and just being able to watch him practice ?? him winking at you in the mirror every now and then ohhhhh i’d pass out

i hope ur sleeping well my pretty 💗💗 kisses 4 uuuuu

- 🐈‍⬛

sonic movie??? ive never heard of anyone crying over the sonic movie T_T then again i cant judge because ive never watched it. dw bae, i cry over soft endings too. we have issues and its ok!! tbh i cry over fluff more than i cry over angst. it's just that i get so overwhelmed by the love, that it makes me sob yk? i sound insane, dont i </3 whats ur fave cereal? i love the milo crunch cereal, tastes like milo but make it cereal!!! and i googled spanakopita and omg. . .it looks mouth-watering. gonna attempt to find a place which sells them here. talking abt pastries, 'm going to a cafe with my mum tmr for breakfast, so im looking forward to that!!

anything abt hyunjin makes me dizzy tbh. the recent dancing vids of hyune 😵‍💫 hes out to get me fr fr. management pls make him stop body rolling on stage bcs it makes me sick!! (pls dont i love it when he does) HOWL IS SO PERFFFFFFF. THE MAN! i could talk about the plot of howl's moving castle for hours. i love the plot twist, how howl has been searching for sophie for years. thats true love right there! also jeongin hand pics has been all over my fyp come save me!! save me from this monstrosity.

the american slander 😭cmere bae i'll take u to a mcdonalds 🙏i'll give you all the mcflurrys you want. its always available here <333 now im craving for an oreo mcflurry omg... and pandan leaf chicken zzz

STOP FEEDING INTO MY DELUSIONS, MY LOVE. WHY ARE YOU PUTTING SUCH THOUGHTS INTO MY HEAD? i want hyunjin to give me a private show (not in an nsfw way i swear) he looks so enchanting on stage, i'd love to sit in front of him, alone with him and just watch him dance. he puts so much thought and emotion in his movements, it's amazing how he could do that all while ensuring every move is precise. making it all look easy is also one thing. oh the winks would be the death of me. i feel like he'd cling on u right after too <333 will ask for lil reward kisses after practise <3 did u see the vid of felix lifting his shirt up to make people scream for muddy water? hes in his hot guy and he knows it era. love it for him 🙏

also, today, seungmin and felix went live. i got to watch it and it was so chaotic T_T it was them attempting to make candy but failing at doing so </3 i mean what did we expect from them tbh.

hope ur day is going well, sweet darling. thousand of kisses for u <333!!

[guavagyu]

pretty boy -k.mg

THIRD MINGYU FIC???? i mean im not complaining 🧍 but like 😭 u r gonna kill me istg (u know who u are!!) and yes this is requested.

AHKJSHKASDYGDOSIGYWDOHSYIGYEHDO MINGYU

also im gonna try my hands at gn!reader soooooo..if it sucks or its like, idk what word to use but like, meant to be gn but not actually gn, like?? idk im sorry

WAIT HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO INCLUDE WHETHER OR NOT ITS PROTECTED SEX OR NOT HELP WHAT??????? DO I JUST NOT MENTION IT AT ALL??????? IM JUST NOT GONNA MENTION IT AT ALL SEND AN ASK IF IT NEEDS TO BE ADDED OR WHATEVER PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU /srs

COME COME INTO MY WORLDDDDDDDD WONT LET YOU DOWNNNNN WONT LET YOU DOWNNNNNNNNN IN MY IN MY IN MY NEEEWWW WORLDDDDD /lyr

anyways...

wc: words are indeed present, specifically 478 (edit: made some changes for better grammar, transitions, just to increase quality in general.)

content/warnings: smut (mdni!! you've been warned!), fluff i think??, pinch of humor in like two sentences, gn!reader obviously (unspecified on whether its a strap or an actual pp so yeah ur good i think 👍), degradation kink, praise kink, dacryphilia, unspecified on whether its protected sex or not, sub!mingyu, brief degradation, praise, softdom!reader, lowercase intended, brief degradation, praise, pegging teehee (legit anal too so yeah), use of petnames/nicknames (pretty boy, love), lmk if there r more!

I TRIED TO INCLUDE THE REQUEST AS MUCH AS I COULD BUT ITS ALSO KINDA SHORT (unfortunately) SO IM SO SORRY I JUST WANTED TO PUBLISH BEFORE MY HIATUS BEGAN 😭😭

"you ready gyu?" you whispered, softly kissing mingyu's chin,

"yeah, i think so," he responded, giving you the green light to continue,

"lemme know if it hurts or you just wanna stop, ok?" which caused gyu to let out a soft "ok" as you slowly entered him, picking up on a consistent pace, yet leaving mingyu whining for more,

"please,"

"please, what? if you can't tell me i can't give it to you, love," you peppered his neck and collarbone with light kisses,

"faster...please," he whimpered, and who are you to resist his gorgeous pleas? you immediately pick up the pace, increasing the speed and rhythm of your thrusts, making gyu let out a string of wanton moans, letting his inner whore be free. after all, who wouldn't as you're making him feel this good? although, all whores are greedy,

"more! more! please more!" mingyu begged, his voice hitting all sorts of high notes from your now relentless pounding, soon slowing down to say, quickly morphing into a babbling mess as the pleasure overwhelmed him,

"look at you being such a slut, my pretty slut. you're doing so good for me, my pretty boy," only to have mingyu moan in response, his dick twitching at the intertwined praise and degradation, the tears poking out at the corners of gyu's ethereal eyes, hooded and all, only for you. it only turned you on further,

"c-close," mingyu whined, causing you to return to your previous pace, and repositioning yourself so you could fondle and lick gyu's sensitive nipples, a soft pinch causing him to jerk upright a tad,

"it's ok, let go love, you've done so well for me," you press soft kisses on and along his forehead as reassurance that you meant your words, quickly moving back down to focus on his nipples. after a second or two, mingyu let out a loud moan, ending on a soft whine as he came on his stomach, a little getting on his thighs. once his high was over and his brain was back online, you left for the bathroom,

"where are you going? please don't leave," he lightly grabbed your hand, before you smiled and softly shook your head,

"gyu, i'm not going anywhere, just wanna clean you up first,"

"oh, ok," he nodded, letting go of your hand, allowing you to head to the bathroom to return with a towel wet with warm water, softly bringing it against his skin, letting it take away all of the sweat that had built up, along with his cum. gyu lightly whimpered when you brought the towel near his dick, clearly still sensitive from his orgasm. you gave him one final kiss after cleaning up the two of you, then you climbed into bed next to him, and let the night take you away as you drifted to sleep in each others arms.

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

© guavagyu 2022. all rights reserved. plagiarization, reposting, translating, and/or rewriting ANY and ALL of my works is prohibited.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

can i request an annie x reader, annie is just really jealous and clingy because reader is talking to reiner a lot, so annie just wants affection 🥺

Awwwww, that’s so cute honestly.

Clingy

(Annie Leonhart X Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Slightly implied season 2 spoilers

Category: Fluff, a little bit of hurt/comfort

Summary: Annie finds that her s/o is spending a lot of time with Reiner recently, and gets just a teeny bit jealous

Words: 1.8K

“Alright, cadets!” Commander Shadis bellowed over the commotion of the sparring grounds, “Training is done for today! Return to the barracks before curfew or else I’ll have your heads!”

You released the chokehold you had had on Reiner, and he immediately fell over, gasping and coughing for air. You stood up indifferently, brushing the dirt off of your knees like it was more of an issue than the man choking for air on the ground.

“L-Learn some restraint for- for Christ’s sake, Y/n!” He stood up shakily, grasping at his throat. Despite your smaller size, you had no issues besting the blonde man in a hand-to-hand scrimmage.

“It’s training, Reiner. I go about as easy on you as I would on a titan.” You replied nonchalantly.

He wiped his bleeding nose and muttered something unintelligible. You peered over your shoulder curiously, scanning the training grounds for your girlfriend, Annie.

As much as you hated it, you hadn’t gotten to spend much time with her recently. You spent a lot of your time recently hanging out with your close friend, Reiner Braun. He knew very well your relationship with Annie, he too being fairly close to the petite blonde girl, but he still insisted that you and he hang out together, alone. Whether he was interested in you, or wanted to piss Annie off, you honestly couldn’t tell.

“Hey, so uh, Y/n...” He started, snapping you out of your daze. He rubbed the back of his neck and continued once he noticed he had your attention. “Curfew doesn’t go into effect for another half hour. I found this beautiful spot in the forest that overlooks the lake. I was thinking... maybe... we could go there together, and look at the stars for a bit. I... want to talk with you.”

You were about to respond to his offer, before you felt a cold hand plant itself on your shoulder, causing you to jump. Startled, you turned around to face the culprit, but your face softened into a smile when you saw your girlfriend standing behind you, gazing into your eyes with an almost unreadable expression.

“Ah, hello Annie. Reiner and I were about to head to the forest to see the stars, do you wanna-” you stopped speaking abruptly when Annie planted her face into the side of your neck. “Annie?” Her warm breath against your neck made you shiver.

She wasn’t usually this affectionate, especially around other people. But, today was different. She hadn’t spent quality time with you in nearly a week- your time instead being occupied because of Reiner’s insistence on spending time with you. All Annie wanted right now was to spend some time with you, in a calm, quiet moment, just the two of you. She wanted to curl up under the blankets with you and kiss your collarbone as you ran your hand through your hair. All in all, she just wanted you.

“Curfew is gonna be up soon...” she mumbled, not even lifting her head from your neck. “We should head to bed soon, we don’t wanna get in trouble with commander Shadis...”

You brought your arm down and gently took her hand in yours, and you immediately felt her relax against your back, sighing peacefully. You chuckled, she could be so cute sometimes.

“We still have half an hour left. You could join Reiner and I for a little bit if you wanted.” You said endearingly. It sounded like a great idea to you, looking at the beautiful scenery, taking a break and just spending time with the two most important people in your life.

But, when she tugged on the collar of your shirt, and muttered a tiny “Please?” into your neck, you decided that all could go out the window for now.

You slapped yourself internally for not considering Annie’s feelings earlier, but you were certain Annie was getting lonely without your company. She had been sitting just a little closer to you during mealtimes, clinging a little closer to you during the night, and patching up your wounds more delicately lately.

All she needed was the affection she had been missing for the past few weeks.

“Sorry Reiner,” you turned back to face him, and he stared back at you, dumbfounded. “but this will have to wait for another time. I’ll see you later.” You smiled at him before turning around to walk to the barracks with Annie. You continued holding her hand, delicately running your thumb over the back of her hand.

You turn back to face Reiner for just a moment, and he has pitifully dejected look on his face. You almost mouth the words “I’m sorry,” but you are distracted by Annie squeezing your hand gently, and looking at you with a blush on her face.

---

Reaching your bunk, you flop down on the bed. It wasn’t an especially comfortable setup. The mattress was small and old, you were only given a single pillow and blanket, and everything was seldom washed, but you made it work. A few months into your relationship, Annie started to sleep in the same bed as you, so, luckily, you two had two of everything. You stretched your arms over your head and relieved the tension in your shoulders as you situated yourself on the bed.

Annie waited until she was sure that you had settled, before she climbed into the bed next to you, resting her head on your chest. She wrapped her arms around you and intermingled her legs with yours, taking in your scent.

You paid close attention to her soft breathing, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. It was slow and even. She was calm.

You ran your fingers through her hair, smoothly running the pads of your fingers down her scalp, spoiling her with the affection that she had been missing for a while now.

Your hand reached the base of her neck, and gently guided her head up. Her icy blue irises bore into your e/c ones, and you took a moment to appreciate your lover’s beauty. You didn’t say a word, nor did you need to, as you brought her face to yours, connecting your lips in a kiss. She closed her eyes and kissed you back, completely content with the situation. Her hands moved to your shoulders, pulling you down even closer to her.

After what felt like hours, but was likely only fifteen or so seconds, you pulled away from her, catching your breath. She smiled happily, before wrapping her arms tightly around your torso, reburying her face into your chest. Your hand slinked lower down from her neck, and slipped under the fabric of her hoodie. You rubbed her bare back tenderly, and while you knew your hands were probably freezing, you felt her sigh calmly against you, the warm puff of air on your shirt reminding you of the adorable blonde in your arms.

You stayed just like that for a few minutes, with no words spoken between the two of you, before you finally broke the silence.

“You know,” you started. You felt her head shift against you, perking up slightly at the sound of your voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous of Reiner.”

She didn’t move much, but a soft hum left her lips for a few moments as she pondered her reply. “He’s been spending too much time with you lately. Only I get to do that.” She hugged you tighter, basically clinging onto you like a baby koala would to it’s mother. It was incredibly cute, and you almost found yourself wishing that you unintentionally ignored her more often, just so she would cuddle you like this more often. “You’re mine.” She added on.

You only chuckled to yourself, and leaned down to peck her forehead. “I know sweetie. Reiner is just a close friend to me. He is a close friend of yours too, right? I see you talking with him a lot. Him and Bertholdt too.”

Her breath hitched at that, and she froze. You must’ve struck some kind of nerve with that, but you had no idea what you had said.

“Hey... Y/n...” She mumbled. Her voice was oddly... distant. “No matter what happens... no matter what becomes of me... I just want you to know that... that I love you. I always have and always will, no matter what. I... I’m so- so sorry.” Her voice started to break at the end, and you could tell she was on the verge of tears.

Alarmed at her sudden reaction, you pulled back to look at her, but she refused to meet your eye as tears fell from her eyes unrestrained.

“Annie- Annie, don’t cry!” You spoke, slightly panicked at Annie’s sudden reaction.

You brought your hand to her cheek, and the quiet “Annie...” that left your mouth finally brought her to look up at you.

“You don’t need to apologize, Annie, you have nothing to apologize for.” You ran your thumb across her cheek, brushing the tears off of her face. “I’ll always love you. Nothing will change that, ok? I love you more than anything else in the world. I don’t care what you have or will do, you will always be important to me.”

That seemed to push her over the edge, as she hid her face in your neck and started sobbing. You felt horrible, seeing your girlfriend like this. You weren’t quite sure what had made her so upset, but you were going to comfort her no matter what.

You placed one hand on the back of her head, and the other was at the small of her back, pulling her close to you. You undid her messy bun and brushed your fingers through her loose hair, continuing to shush her and whisper sweet nothings to her- whatever you thought might help.

“I- I’m so, so sorry... Y-Y/n...” Her voice was so small and fragile, like a kicked puppy in an animal shelter.

“Shhhhhh...” You craned your neck down to peck her cheek, the tears still flowing down them freely. “Don’t apologize. I’m here, Annie, I love you.”

You continued to comfort her for what you were sure was at least ten minutes, until her distraught sobbing had calmed down to quiet whimpers and hiccups.

She was still trembling slightly in your arms, and gripped the sides of your shirt tightly, her knuckles going white. Reiner’s probably gone inside by now... you thought.

“Hey, Annie...” You shook her just a little bit, and she moved her head away from your neck, the tears in her eyes finally drying, her hair disheveled. 

You smile at her. “How about we go out and look at the stars for a bit?”

A/N: First request ever... sorry if it’s bad or OOC haha... I might’ve strayed from the prompt a little bit at the end, but still, I hope you like it!

[ddarker-dreams]

General Adult Trio Yan Hcs.

it’s been a while since i’ve gotten to flesh out my hcs for the adult trio!! my chrollo thirst has Picked back up once again, and with it, the other two hxh low-lives. 

Chrollo Lucilfer; 

Chrollo’s approach is, in part, tailored to you. The advantage in lacking a solid sense of self means the ability to wear many faces. A charming suitor, a thief willing to sweep you away into a night of thrills, a brooding yet misunderstood antihero... he can play every role perfectly. He might also take elements of each and form a perfect counterpart. 

He goes out of his way to familiarize himself with those in your close circle. Your friends, coworkers, even your family; all will experience his charisma. Chrollo acts none the wiser but he knows what he’s doing. By getting their affirmation, he has more influence in your life. It won’t be uncommon to hear people ask why you’re not dating Chrollo. 

“Oh, that?” he smiles, eyelids fluttering shut. “I ran into them by coincidence this morning. That look on your face... you don’t believe me, do you? Pity.” 

Chrollo’s end goal is to have you traveling with him. He feels confident in his myriad of Nen to keep you from acting up, believing that if worst comes to worst, a stolen Manipulator ability would get the situation under control. Traveling with Chrollo is hectic, traversing multiple time zones and cultures. He’ll teach you about every place you’re going. 

Generally doesn’t mind when you’re mouthy. Chrollo finds it amusing that you speak your thoughts so freely, but there are some subjects that remain best left unsaid. He wouldn’t care for any indication of attraction to someone other than him, speaking about past relationships in a positive light, stuff like that. There’d be a smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Chrollo closes his book with more force than necessary. “Let’s move on from this topic, shall we?” 

He has a penchant for challenging you. Loves watching your attempts at reasoning with him, which can feel infantilizing, not that telling him this will change anything. Chrollo will shrug your concern off, saying that he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. He does know what you’re talking about...

Due to his interest in gothic style, you can expect numerous gifts relating to fashion. Chrollo’s favorites on you include colors like maroon and black, fishnets/sheer tights, choker necklaces, corset outfits, anything with lace, and off-shoulder tops. He loves whatever shows off your legs and collarbones. 

“You look like a work of art,” he hums, circling you like a predator who’s spotted its prey. “It should come as no surprise that I want to steal you.”

Hisoka Morow; 

Hisoka makes for a perplexing yandere. He’s a walking contradiction in every definition of the word, overbearing yet flaky, obsessive yet distant, and always intent on ruining your day. Being around you is thrilling and he’s unashamed of his addiction. Hisoka lives for himself and nothing else matters. 

He prances into your life intending to disturb the status quo. Just when you think you’re free, Hisoka shows up again, welcoming himself into your home. The worst part about it is that getting frustrated and lashing out is what he wants. He looks oh so pleased at prying that reaction from you, licking his lips and emanating bloodlust while you tell him off.

“[First]... I could devour you here and now ♥.”

Ignoring him doesn’t feel like a viable option. Should you rely on this method, anything that you’re paying attention to instead of him will meet an untimely demise. Whether it be a person, technology, or a book; expect cards to soon be lodged in it. Hisoka doesn’t stick around for long. So when he is lurking around your area, he expects attention.

Hisoka’s bizarre nature created a new yandere subgenre. He’s a part-time yandere, typically allowing you to live your life as you please, finding immense gratification from how on edge this makes you. It’s not uncommon for Hisoka to leave for months and then pop up at your job with a sweet smile. 

“Were you lonely without me? Embarrassing as it may be, I found myself missing you. I’m sure we have lots to catch up on.” 

Overall, you can expect your quality of life to go down every time Hisoka rears his head. The good news is that when he disappears for the next few months, you’re able to live life as per usual, no longer held captive by his whims. Hisoka is a lenient yandere, meaning, he likely won’t kidnap you unless pushed to extremes. The benefits Hisoka has to offer end there. 

The touchiest yandere of three listed here. His hands are always on you: whether it be your lower back, your waist, even “accidentally” brushing over your ass. Pushing him away is not going to help. Hisoka is just waiting for an excuse to connect himself to you with Bungee Gum, don’t give him a reason. 

Illumi Zoldyck; 

Catching Illumi’s attention is akin to opening the door one day to find the Grim Reaper staring back at you. Similar to drawing the tarot card Death, you can expect your normal way of life to become a distant memory. Illumi’s view towards relationships is warped, he believes that commitment means disregarding everything else, and this intense view is forced onto you.

“There’s no reason to be upset,” Illumi reasons, blinking at your hunched over form. “I’m taking care of everything. Why are you crying?” 

He thinks in black and white terms. Illumi can provide for you in abundance, what else could you possibly need from a partner? There’s no getting through to him on this front -- no matter how much you plead -- as he feels you’re being irrational. That with time, you’ll come around. His family encourages this detrimental behavior. 

Illumi is a straightforward yandere, but that doesn’t make him any less manipulative. He uses this honesty as a cover for what he’s trying to accomplish. Drumming phrases and ideas into your head, bluntly bringing up past hurts that could be associated with your life before him. There’s a mold that Illumi wants you to fill and he’s willing to push you into it. 

He doesn’t see the point in wasting time. Illumi feels like you have the potential to benefit his family, and once he feels this way, is willing to do anything to make that vision a reality. He’ll make some stiff attempts at romance if he receives advice like that from his family. Dates will be shrouded in silence or awkward small talk, no in-between. 

You’re expected to adjust to things unnaturally fast. Illumi lays down the groundwork of what becoming a member of the Zoldyck family entails, even if you’re in a distraught state. Rules are set into place immediately with the expectation that you’ll follow them. Butlers are always around to ensure this, or return you to your room should you break them.

“Now, this is important. Hm... you really aren’t paying much attention. That’s going to be a problem.” 

Unlike Hisoka, Illumi oversees all details relating to your life. When you wake up, when you should sleep, the nutritional contents of your meals, everything is micromanaged. He claims it’s for the sake of keeping you healthy. Which it very well could be, but doesn’t excuse how overbearing he is. 

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Mr. Komaeda’s Lesson

THE FILTH ARRIVES

Summary: You should really proofread your assignments before submitting them... AKA: Professor Komaeda fucks you over his desk (literally my dream) Word count: 4258 Contains: she/her pronouns, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, professor/student relationships, gentle dom nagito (he’s very gentle i swear) Read on AO3  ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

The soothing smell of camomile lemon tea wafts around the small office. The blinds are half open, casting the orange light of the setting sun across the smooth leaves of a peace lily that resides in a pot hanging in front of the heating unit. The warm air rocks it gently back and forth. The atmosphere in the room is light and pleasant, but it does nothing to ease your nerves. 

“Do you want some?” Professor Komaeda asks as he pours himself a cup of the aforementioned camomile lemon tea. He has a little teapot sitting on his desk, it’s very cute. 

You clear your throat, fidgeting in your seat, “No thank you, I’m fine.”

“Okay, let’s get started then, shall we?” 

You’ve been dreading this meeting for weeks now. Your professor had been very insistent that this wouldn’t be a discussion about the quality of your work, but more about what he could do to help you maintain focus in lectures. There was also a brief mention about your most recent assignment, he said that he wasn’t concerned, but did want to run through a few things with you. 

He was very polite about it, which makes the true nature of your distraction only more reprehensible. 

“So, first I want to start with a simple question. How are you doing?” 

“Uh, fine?”

He nods and takes a sip of his tea, “No problems outside of our classes? You don’t need to answer if you aren’t comfortable.”

“No i- uh. I’m fine outside of classes too.” You fidget again, twisting your hands in your lap, “I’ve been...tired? But that’s my fault, I stay up too late.” 

He hums thoughtfully and rests his chin on the palm of his hand, “Could that be having an affect on your focus? I can see that you have been distracted in our most recent lectures and just want to make sure it isn’t a fault of myself or my material.” He laughs a little to himself, “I know I can be a little boring sometimes.” 

Professor Komaeda is not boring. He’s probably the most engaging lecturer you’ve ever had, passionate about his subject matter and very enthusiastic about class participation. He also wears really tight trousers and has long dexterous fingers that you can't help imagining inside of your-

“I mean, being tired could be the problem?” A bold faced lie. 

“Well in that case there isn’t much more I can suggest than a good night's rest.” He gives you a long look that makes you squirm in your seat, “I only graduated a few years ago myself, I understand the urge to make the most of your day, but you can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.” He takes another sip of his tea, a drop misses his mouth and rolls down his chin. He catches it with his thumb, which he then brings up to his lips and sucks. You swallow deeply, tearing your eyes from where his lips are meeting his skin. Your knee starts bouncing. Nerves. 

“Would it help if you sat a little closer to the front of the lecture hall?”

It wouldn’t. Especially not on warm days when he loosens his tie and undoes the first three buttons on his shirt. You spent a whole lecture transfixed on the dip of his collarbones once. Not great for your note taking, “maybe I’ll give that a go next week” you say. Another lie.

“Okay, try that out and let me know if it helps.” He gently sets down his teacup and starts working his white hair up into a bun. His fingers are so delicate as he combs through the strands, pulling his hair up and away from his pale throat, exposing the length of it to your hungry eyes-

A noise escapes from your mouth. Almost a whine, but not quite. Professor Komaeda doesn't say anything, but his intense eyes meet yours for just a moment. You clench your thighs together.

“Are you ready to talk about your assignment now?” He asks, picking the teacup again. It’s decorated with sunflowers, almost criminally cute, “No reason to be nervous. I want to make it clear that this matter hasn't had any affect on your grade, just some advice for next time.”

You nod shakily. Despite all of his reassurances, you are still very nervous. Partially because you wanted a good grade, partially because you had worked on that essay day and night with the intention of impressing him. So stupid. 

He gives you a pleasant smile and rifles through his desk for a moment, pulling out what you quickly recognise as a printed copy of your essay, “Take a look, i want to see if you can figure it out first.”

“Um...okay…” You skip past the title page and into the meat of the essay, reading through all of your points and making sure there weren't any obvious spelling mistakes. There wasn't anything that you could see, “Sorry...um...what page is it on?”

His teacup clinks when he sets it down again, leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands. You can feel your heart fluttering in your chest, your palms are getting sweaty, “It’s on the title page actually. I’m surprised you didn't notice it.”

You shoot him a quizzical look and flip back to the first page. Your stomach plummets. 

Titles have never been your thing, summing up an entire essay in just a few words isn’t easy, so you usually use a placeholder right up until you submit it. You remember changing it, you remember triple checking it was changed before you emailed it through. But something must have gone wrong because in big bold capital letters, the title of you assignment reads: 

ESSAY SO GOOD PROFESSOR KOMAEDA WILL FUCK ME OVER HIS DESK 

Your hands are shaking, the edges of the paper crinkling under your tight grip. You are going to fail...you are going to be expelled...you are going to-

“Ah. I see you’ve realised your mistake, hm?”

Your head shoots up, forgetting for a moment that he is still sitting across from you. 

“Professor...I-I’m...obviously I’m…” you can’t get out a goddamn sentence, your mouth has all dried up, “I don’t even...I can’t…”

You are taken aback, when Professor Komaeda giggles. It’s a light little sound, he covers his mouth with a hand, “You are very bold, aren’t you?” 

“I….” 

“No need to worry, I’m not reporting this to the dean or anything like that. I see no reason to expel you over a silly little mistake like this one.”

“You...You dont want me to drop you class?”

He laughs again, you shrink under the intensity of his green eyes, “I’m not going to make you, no. If the situation isn’t going to make it even harder for you to focus during lectures, you can still come to class. I won't stop you, it is your choice.”

He is being remarkably cavalier about all of this, it’s almost unsettling, but you don't want to drop his class so you can't help being grateful, “Thank you so much, I...I promise i won't do this again.”

Professor Komaeda hums aloud, eyes half lidded as he looks at you from across the desk, “Won’t do what again?” he asks, though honestly its more of a purr, “Won’t think about me fucking you, or wont make the mistake of writing it down?”

Hearing the word fuck drop from that perfect mouth of his sends you into overdrive. Your thighs are clamped so tight together that your legs are shaking, you can feel yourself breathing hard, “I...uh...I....” you swallow, “I won't do...either?”

“There's no need to lie to me.” He breathes, standing up from his chair and rounding the desk. You can feel yourself quivering in his shadow, he towers over you. Your breath catches in your throat when one of his hands makes contact with your chin, slowly lifting your head up until you meet his eyes. His expression is positively hungry, “I want to make something very clear. This is your chance to leave, if you do we will never speak of this again. If you don’t, well…”

All you can do is stare at him, mouth going dry with realisation. 

“Your essay was very good, by the way.” He leans down until his nose is almost pressed against yours, you can smell the tea on his breath. You can feel the warmth of his skin, you can count his eyelashes, “Good enough that i’ll fuck you over my desk if you still want me to.”

In a moment of hungry lucidity, you grab him by the tie and tug his lips down to yours. Colliding in a positively ferocious kiss. You feel him laugh against your mouth before he slips his tongue in between your lips and traces your upper row of teeth, his tongue is wet and warm, your thighs are rubbing together as you grow desperate for any sort of friction. Professor Komaeda must be in a similar state, because he grabs you by the waist and tugs you up to your feet. Pressed firmly against him like this, you can feel the evidence of his arousal through his slacks, a moan escapes you when you feel his hips buck. 

He laughs again, pulling away from your mouth to press a hot kiss to the side of your throat. You feel his long fingers toying with the hemline of your skirt, slowly slipping up underneath it, “These pretty little things…” he whispers, tugging on the top of your thigh high stocking and releasing it with a snap, “do you wear them for me?”

There’s no point lying anymore. You can’t stop shaking, “I...yes…”

You feel him moan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the join between your neck and shoulder, “Did you really think I wouldn’t take notice? Of the way you undress me with your eyes in class, of these tiny little skirts you started wearing?” He grabs a handful of your ass and you squeal, “you’re so gorgeous. You could have anyone in that class if you wanted, but here you are with me-“ he grinds up against you, cock warm and hard through his slacks, “-I don’t understand what I’ve done to deserve this.”

His voice is so soft and gentle, even while he’s palming your ass and grinding his hips against yours, he still talks like he’s giving a lecture on historical literature. It’s hot, how easily he is able to maintain his composure while you are little more than a quivering mess beneath him, but still...you want to see him come undone.

You hear more than feel your knees colliding with the wooden floorboards. Professor Komaeda is unable to give little more than a surprised look before you have his slacks and boxers shoved halfway down his thighs and his cock in your mouth. He lets out a shocked little moan, burying his long fingers into your hair as his hips stutter forward. Now that was the reaction you wanted. 

“Oh...ohhhh-“ he whines, slowly moving himself in and out of your mouth as you tease his head with your tongue, “ahh...your mouth feels so good, angel.” 

You were not expecting him to call you angel. It’s like a bolt of lightning to your cunt, your hands jump up the dig deep into the meat of his thighs as you moan downright salaciously around his cock. 

“I can feel you moaning.” He whispers, “I can’t believe how much you’re enjoying this” you look up at him through your lashes and see his cheeks are red, his perfect lips are swollen from his biting them incessantly. You moan again just from the sight of him, he hisses and his hips cant forward deeper into your mouth, “wow. You...You really like doing this don’t you? Wrapping your perfect soft lips around my filthy cock?” 

Filthy? That makes your eyebrows jump. You could always tell that your professor had some sort of inferiority complex, but you didn't realise it was...this intense.

“S’pretty.” You managed to slur around him, “Tastes good.”

He laughs again, it explodes from his mouth and shakes his shoulders. Unbridled, almost wild. He grins down at you, “I’m sure it doesn’t taste as good at you.” He purrs, tucking your hair behind your ear, “get up on the desk.”

Well, you weren’t going to say no to that. You give his cock one last long lick before standing back up from the floor, just before you hoist yourself up on the table, Professor Komaeda grabs you by the wrist, “Panties off, please.”

You feel yourself turn crimson, but dutifully shimmy out of your panties and let them drop to the floor. He smiles at you, hands curling around your waist as he leans into your ear, “that’s my girl.” He whispers, and lifts you up onto his desk. His hands are cold on the bare skin of your thighs peeking out from the top of your stockings, your stomach twists and curls as he slowly edges your legs open, and drops to his knees between them.

“Oh my god…” you squeak, he’s staring up at you with a look that is downright sinful and he doesn’t break eye contact, even when one of those perfect fingers slips inside you, “agh!” 

He chuckles warmly, gently thrusting his finger in and out of you, “you’re so wet, angel...I can’t imagine why someone like me is making you so aroused, but I’m not complaining.” 

His finger curls inside of you, and your hips jolt, “Mmph! Pro-Professor I-“ 

He smiles saccharinely as a second finger pushes its way inside you, “Nagito.” He corrects, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh, “We’re well beyond the need for formality. Don’t you think?” You cover your mouth to muffle a squeal as he adds a third finger. Your knees are wobbling and you can barely breathe, he’s just sitting between your legs and grinning at you, “Now let’s see if you taste as good as i imagine, hm?”

He pulls your clit in between his lips and sucks. You have to bite down on your hand to keep yourself from screaming, “F-Fuck...Nagito...I--hng!” 

“It is after hours, you know.” He whispers, you can feel his breath on your cunt and you shiver, “There’s no reason for you to restrain yourself.” He licks your clit again and moans, “Haa...It may be selfish of me, but i want to hear you. If you’ll let me.”

“Oh god-” You hiss out when his tongue starts circling around you, “-keep doing that, and you’ll hear me alright.”

Nagito giggles and peers up at you, “Then I suppose I'll get back to work.” He hoists your thighs over his shoulders, and starts eating you out in earnest. You lean back on your elbows, and watch his soft white hair bob between your thighs as his tongue works it’s magic, he alternates between running the flat of his tongue up the length of you and focussing directly on your clit. Your toes are curling, mouth wide open with a constant stream of moans and whimpers that you have no hope of stopping. It feels so good, you had dreamt about this alone at night in your bed and even in those fantasies it hadn't felt this good. 

His fingers slip out of you, but before you even have a chance to complain, they are replaced with his tongue. You moan so loudly that it rumbles through your chest, your hips rise up to meet his mouth and his hands curl around the soft flesh of your thighs, tugging you even closer. He groans. The wet muscle is slowly thrusting in and out of you when he presses down firm on your clit with his thumb, “I--mmph...Nagito m’gonna cum…” your hips are grinding relentlessly up against his face and you can feel your hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. 

“Cum for me, angel.” He whispers, thumb rubbing your clit in brutal circles, “I want to feel you squeezing around my tongue.” 

You throw your head back in a howl as his tongue slips back inside, the desk rattling with the force of your quivering hips. You can hear the slick sounds his mouth is making against your cunt, the way he is panting and moaning just from the taste of you. The tightness in your stomach grows unbearable, then he curls his tongue upward, and it snaps. You see whiteness behind your eyes, thighs shaking with the intensity of it. You can feel the vibration of Nagito’s moan inside of you and his fingers dig tight into the meat of your thighs. He’s enjoying your orgasm almost as much as you are. 

When he finally pulls away from you, the lower half of his face is glistening with your wetness. He gives you a pleased smile, eyes half lidded as he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean, “I knew you would taste good.” He whispers, wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, “Think you can cum again, angel?”

Just watching him suck on his fingers is enough to get you going again, “Yeah, I definitely can.”

He laughs and stands up from the floor. His cock is flushed red and dripping, you suddenly realise he hadn't touched it that whole time, he must be painfully hard at this point. You lick your lips, you can't help it. He follows your line of sight and smiles, “Be a good girl and bend over the desk for me, please.” 

You slide down off the desk, ready to follow his orders but quickly stop yourself, “Oh. One second.”

“Hm?”

You grab the teapot from the desk and quickly rest it on the windowsill, “Sorry. That was a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Ah, yes. You’re right.” His hand slips up to your cheek, thumb resting on your lips. He smiles when you pull it into your mouth and suck, “I’ll have to thank you for saving my carpet. Unless you see any other hazards, i would still like to fuck you.”

That word again. It sounds doubly filthy when he says it, the way his lips mold around it is downright sinful. A shaky moan drops from your mouth as you turn around and do as he asks, your breasts are squished up against the sturdy wood, and the desk is a little too tall for you, your feet are dangling just above the floor. You’re shaking with anticpation, and it grows even worse when you feel the warmth of Nagito’s palm caressing your ass, “For my own peace of mind…” he whispers, his other hand running a finger up the length of your sex, “When do you graduate?”

You laugh, “It’s a little late for that, isn't it, Professor?” you feel his hand still on your ass and you clear your throat, “Uh, this is my last semester. A few months.”

He sighs pleasantly, “Ah, that’s good. This has been very fun, though i'm not sure we should do it again.” You feel the head of his cock kiss your entrance and hiss through your teeth, “At least...not for a few months.” You can hear the smirk on his face.

“I’ve waited this long.” You say, grinding backwards into his cock, “I can wait again.”

He leans down until his mouth is right beside your ear, “Good girl.” He whispers, and finally thrusts inside of you. It feels so good, he fills you so well. Your cheek is pressed firmly against the hard wood of the desk and a pathetic little mewl escapes your mouth at the feeling. You cunt already dripping from your last orgasm, you take him so easily, so smoothly. It feels like he is meant to be inside you. 

You feel a hand on your lower back, pushing you further down onto the desk and Nagito hisses through his teeth. Pumping slowly and deeply inside of you, like he is savoring it, “You’re doing so well, angel. I--fuck...You’re so warm.” his breathing is laboured, the rhythmic sound of his hips hitting your ass is echoing around the room, “I still can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. I must be the luckiest man alive.” 

“Please...more!” you whine, trying to force him deeper inside of you with the movement of your hips. 

Nagito lets out a strangled moan and starts pounding faster, one of his hands slipping down between your legs to circle your clit, you cry out at the extra stimulation, toes curling inside of your shoes. The desk is shaking with the force of his thrusts now, there's a cute little statuette of a frog that falls down to the carpet with a clatter, but he doesn't stop. 

“You feel so good, darling...I--I don't think i can-” a groan rips through him and you can feel his thrusts growing sloppier, “-you’re so good for...so perfect...I can't hold--ah ahh” he swallows, “Please, angel, i want to feel you cum again.”

You’re close, mouth raw from panting and moaning, legs going numb from behind suspended in the air. Then, the finger on your clit presses down firm and his cock grinds up against your g-spot. That is all you need, you come unraveling under him, the walls of your cunt clenching impossibly tight around him.

“Ah, yes!” He cries, grabbing your hips and pounding you desperately, relishing in the feeling of your hot, tight cunt. Milking him dry, “Good, girl. So good for me.” Then, he cums, you feel his cock throb deep inside of you as his hips stutter and slow. 

It is only now that you are hit with the realisation. You just fucked Professor Komaeda. Holy hell.

All you can do is lay there while he slowly pulls himself out of you. Wincing a little at the wierd feeling of emptyness. You manage to roll yourself over, laying flat on your back with your legs still dangling from the desk. Nagito laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Are you alright?”

You laugh weakly, “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”

“Not if no one finds out.” He tucks some of your hair behinf your ear, “Don’t worry about it, I’m very lucky with this sort of thing.”

“I just dont want you to get in trouble.”

He giggles, “That’s very kind of you, but this was as much my choice as it was yours.” he runs his fingers down your cheek and gives you a gentle kiss on your lips, “I meant what i said, about meeting up again.”

You manage to pull yourself up until you are sitting upright, you give him a sleepy smile, “Yeah, me too. I like you a lot.”

“How very sweet of you to say, angel.” He presses his forehead to yours and tangles your fingers together, “Let’s get you cleaned up now, hm? Can’t have you walking home like that”

To be honest, you aren’t sure you can walk at all.

____________________________

A few months later, you are sitting in the local cafe and applying for some jobs on your laptop. You did well on your final assessments and graduated with flying colours. It’s only a few more days before you need to officially move out of the dorms, and finding a new apartment (along with a job to pay for it) has not been easy so far. 

You huff and push your hair back from your face. Your phone pings, and you ignore it. It’s been pinging for the past few minutes and you are not in the mood to check it. The job you are currently applying for made you retype all of the information in your resume even though you just uploaded it, and you are not happy. 

The phone pings again and you groan, grabbing it and flipping it over. It looks like it’s just the group chat, as loud as always. As you go to close the message notifications though, you see one from about ten minutes ago that isn't from your group chat. Your heart is racing. 

Hello!

I still have your number from when you asked for an assignment extension at the beginning of last semester. I hope you don't mind me using it. It’s been a few months, I'd like to see you again, if you wouldn't mind.

-Nagito

Oh shit. Your heart is beating a rapid tattoo in your chest. You had been so caught up in the job hunt and apartment hunt that you had all but forgotten about...this. You swallow and manage to force your shaky hands to type.

Oh hey!

It’s nice to hear from you. I’m free this weekend if you want to meet up, I still live in the dorms though, so it’ll have to be your place.

It's only about a minute before you get a reply.

Lol! I was thinking we could start with coffee, but I'm not going to lie and say i wasn’t hoping it would end up in my bedroom. 

This weekend works for me. I can pick you up around 11?

You smile at your phone, cheeks turning crimson.

Sounds good. I’ll see you then.

You quickly update his contact details in your phone from Professor Komaeda, to Nagito <3.