#to know every curves indentation and lines and to make it out of her hands

[gomzdrawfr]

I think about this au soooooooooo badly every time I get that itch it’s been a year +

Rambles (screenshot with my friend)

[finniestoncrane]

as a curvy person myself i really think boomerang would worship the hell out of some big thighs and ass, like i think he would froth at the mouth during a thigh job 🙏 if i could possibly get a curvy fem reader with ktjl boomer i would LOVE that. thank you sm i adore your writing!!!!

KTJL!Boomer x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.2k hi it's me, resident fat girl with a raging boner for captain boomerang, reporting for DUTY!! this was a lot of body worship and a lot of fun playful touching that i just know would a) cure me and b) entertain digger 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: body worship, thigh job

George Harkness knew how to get his way, particularly with you. It was impossible not to bend to his every whim, especially when he smiled with that mischievous grin whenever her got what he wanted from you.

There you stood in front of him, undressed as he demanded, well, asked, but he might as well have commanded it for all you were ever going to disobey. Body on display, any concerns about how you might look in this position, how gravity pulled at you, if your hair was ok, if you were standing up straight enough, all of it gone. Because George never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect. It was a side of that no one could deny made up for his less universally adored attributes. His perpetual desire to make the object of his affections feel as amazing as he believed they were, and weren't you lucky to be the one he desired.

He sat on the sofa, completely nude too. His daunting length twitched, entirely upright and engorged as he watched you jiggle with every little laugh, your first line of defence against his slew of compliments that seemed to intoxicate you more than the dreadful cheap beer he drank ever did.

You'd already done everything else he'd asked for, so what was one more thing. That's what ran through your mind as he appeared to be conjuring up his next wish.

"Do me a favour though, babe. Much as I love to see that cute face of yours staring back at me, I kinda want to admire the view from the back."

With a stifled giggle you turned around, your entire back side exposed to George as he leaned back in the loveseat. As he took you in, he ran a hand backwards through his hair, pushing any stray strands that might be interfering with the view back in place.

"Well, fuck me. You are a sight from all angles, aren't you? Wanna back up a little bit though? Bit of a stretch for me to reach out and grab ya."

You could hear the grin that was plastered onto his face in his words as you took a few slow steps backwards, until you could feel the back of your legs hit his knees.

"That's better... I can see the whole lot of you from further away and while I do prefer that, sometimes you just gotta get up close and personal with all the best bits."

His hands were against your ass, a quick, sharp spank that led to his hands caressing your skin, skirting over your rounded cheeks as he familiarised himself with the shape of your curves, the indentations of cellulite, the imperfect but perfect wiggle of fat as it collected where he deemed it destined to be. As your body spoke to him against his palms, he sighed, the deep breath turning into a guttural groan as he suddenly squeezed. His fingers gripped at you, palms tight as he grasped however much of you would fit in his hand.

"Plenty cushion for pushin' here."

You almost groaned at the words, and yet, you forgave him for his absurd turns of phrase. He was impossibly cute and sincere in his albeit cringe-inducing flirtations. So you did as he asked and stood in front of him, allowing him ample opportunity to admire your ass. His hands squeezed at it, pulling your cheeks apart, pushing them together, fingers bouncing them to watch the way they jiggled. And then he spread them open once more, burying his face between them, wiggling them from side to side as he groaned, your cheeks slapping his.

When he freed himself, a deep breath to replenish his oxygen, he leaned back once more and slapped at his thighs.

"Wanna back that up over here, babe?"

Dutiful as ever, you stepped backwards to him, settling down on his lap and facing away from him. Your legs rested between his, closed shut but not tightly so, his warm breath on your back as he caressed your thighs. With a little effort, he shifted you, pulling you back a bit, his cock stiff under your thighs before he had you in the position he wanted. Then his fingers tugged at the meat of your thighs until they were spread ever so slightly.

His cock pushed through between your legs, long enough that when it twitched with his moving, it tapped against your cunt, a delightful tease that had you biting down hard on your lower lip. Long enough in fact that...

"Fuck me that's soft."

The sensitive head of his length reached the bottom of the overhang of your belly, and he pushed upwards, bucking his hips, to feel the tip encompassed by the soft, squishy flesh. And all the while, his hands were reaching to your front, grabbing at your tits, playing with them. He relished the way his fingers sank into them, how the ample flesh spilled over his grip as he dug his fingers in deeper.

He lifted them, jiggling them, offering a gentle slap as he let them go, feeling your body move as they dropped back down against your torso. And then, with a slightly devilish chuckle that tickled against the shell of your ear, he took your nipples in between his fingers, teasing, tugging at them, stretching them out until your soft moans of pleasure becamse sharp gasps of air.

The intention was never to hurt you, but he often found himself getting so carried away. It was the way he felt himself seemingly sinking into your soft, plump body. The warmth you held, all for him, the comfort it gave him as he surrounded himself in your form. It was the eroticism of pulling and pushing, lifting and squeezing, something to play with, to use, to cherish. It was the weight of you on top of him, how he felt strong in supporting you, how he felt safe and secure with you there.

George's cock was still slipping between your thighs effortlessly as he let his thoughts run wild. He fucked the plush flesh, his chest filled with a deep breath and the comfort of your size completely enveloping him, even his impressive length and girth shadowed by the thickness of your thighs. He bucked his hips clumsily and with complete abandon, each brush of his sensitive head, the throbbing veins along his shaft, pulsing through his entire body, lingering vibrations of his oncoming orgasm spreading through his nervous system, caught in his throat as he let out strangled, pleading grunts and groans.

You could tell it was about to happen, but you were still surprised by how hard he came, spilling all over you. Spurts of his thick, milky cum on your belly, on your adorably fat pubic mound, your thighs sticky with his release. And he held you there, hands around your body, on your belly once more, grabbing it and squeezing it to keep you in place as he delighted in just having you with him.

He caught his breath, leaning into your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck, placing kisses to your skin, inhaling the scent of your sweat before rubbing his facial hair against your cheek and whispering.

"I could go again. If you could?"

[peaches2217]

🫂

🫂 - Comforting hugs

I said I wanted to deliver more Peach and Luigi Friendship content and by God I meant it

Back Home

~~~

“...But Weegee, the food! I’m almost tempted to call it quits and come home early just so I can eat something good again. I can’t even make anything good myself. Everything they eat is green! No carbs! No fat or oils or condiments! There’s not even any fruit! In fact… and, uh, the next three paragraphs are just about how much he hates the food.”

Peach giggled into the back of her glove. “The poor thing. He must be starving!”

“Oh, Mario doesn’t starve, Princess,” Luigi promised, scanning over his brother’s lengthy written rant once more. “He’ll eat anything! He’ll just act real grumpy the whole time if he doesn’t like it, like this.”

He folded the letter briefly to offer a demonstration of Mario’s Bad Food Face: arms crossed, eyebrows scrunched, lips set in a sulking pout. He mimed bringing a fork to his mouth and chewing with that unwavering expression, and Peach giggled again.

“Then at the very least, we know to prepare a feast for him once he returns.”

“He’s already counting on it! Mentions it at the very end.” Luigi shook out the letter once more, skimmed past the extensive complaints, and continued translating: 

“I can’t say for sure yet, but it should only be another week or two before this is all wrapped up in a big, pretty bow. I’ll let you know if that changes. Otherwise, let’s have all the pasta our bellies can stand in a week or two’s time! Hugs, kisses, and one more big hug, Mario.”

Luigi smoothed the creases in the paper with his thumbs and handed it to Peach. She admired the handwriting, and with her index finger she traced the indents his pen had left in the paper. “He writes differently in different languages,” she noted. “His penmanship is much more relaxed here. When he writes to me, each word looks careful and neat.”

“Well, you’re really the only other person he writes to, you know.”

“Ah! That might explain it.” Peach smiled down at the paper in her hands. “His letters to me are the only time he actually writes in the common tongue, then! No wonder he spends so much time getting the penmanship perfect.”

“Mmhm,” Luigi nodded, and he couldn’t help but tap his foot arrhythmically beneath the small table they shared. She almost got it. Almost. He thought to give her a nudge in the right direction, maybe reveal all the hours Mario spent hunched over his work bench forcing his hand to produce dainty curves and elegant lines because I write like a Conkdor with its head chopped off and a pen taped to its foot! That’s not good enough for a princess, Weegee!...

But something in Peach’s face made him take pause. She still smiled softly, but her eyes were unfocused, even as she continued observing the letter.

“Does it ever… get any easier?” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger absently as she spoke. “Is there ever a point where you don’t… you don’t worry for him so much that it makes you feel sick?”

Luigi’s throat felt suddenly tight. Worried. He thought he had recognized that look. He saw it on Mario’s face every so often, the tight smile and hazy eyes that told Luigi he needed a listening ear and a heaping helping of homemade spaghetti. It looked much more foreign on the princess’ face.

He knew she worried for his safety when he was gone. Did it keep her awake at night, he wondered, just as Mario would sometimes spend all night staring at the ceiling and praying for her wellbeing?

Before he could think up a reassuring answer, he blurted out an entirely inappropriate question, the very question he would present to Mario in the same situation: “Need a hug?”

Peach blinked up from the paper in her hand. Luigi was the sort who would squirm and shudder and run away as fast as his legs could carry him if anyone except Mario tried to touch him. She was just as surprised by his offer as he was. But before he could apologize and take it back and explain his slip-up—

“I’d greatly appreciate that, actually.”

Luigi gulped. Well… a friend in need and all of that, right?

He stood from his seat, and she followed suit. He held his arms out to either side of his body. What next? Was he supposed to step forward? Pull her in? That didn’t feel right. Mercifully, she closed their distance before he could make a wrong move.

She reached her arms beneath his and placed her small hands on his back, drawing closer and resting her cheek against the side of his head. She wasn’t much taller than him, maybe a few inches, but he suddenly felt tiny in comparison. A whole person and all of her fears, contained right here in his arms. It was almost too much.

Hesitantly, he returned her embrace, patting her back softly. He fixed his eyes on a distant shrub so he had something to focus on other than the overwhelming smell of strawberries encompassing him, and that at least helped him find his words better. “Mario’s… kinda like a cat,” he offered, eventually. “He keeps running off and getting pulled into who-knows-what, but in the end he always comes back home. You never really stop worrying for him. But you do get used to it. You realize he can take care of himself and you welcome him when he comes back and that’s really all there is to it, you know?”

Peach nodded. Her hair tickled Luigi’s face, fine and smooth. He wanted to sneeze.

He was relieved when she pulled away, taking a deep breath of clean air, but she still had that look, and that needed to change. He stepped forward again and placed his hands on her shoulders. More comfortable, still physical, maybe helpful? He hoped it was helpful. “Loving Mario feels like a full-time job sometimes,” he joked, “but I wouldn’t worry yourself sick. Nothing could stop him from coming back home.”

Color rose into Peach’s cheeks — oh, she was definitely hung up on “loving Mario,” that was rich — and finally, she graced him with a sincere, full-hearted smile. “Thank you, Luigi,” she said, and he squeezed her shoulders in response.

Tension that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in his body released when he sat back down, and he melted into his chair. That was enough physical contact for one day, or maybe a week or six.

“Perhaps we can discuss the details of his Welcome Home feast,” Peach suggested, grinning playfully as she held Mario’s letter out to him. Luigi grinned right back. He certainly preferred to see the princess in good spirits.

“Or maybe we should have something good for dinner ourselves.” He took the letter and held it to his chest with all the mock-sadness he could muster. “In his honor.”

“You’re right. It’s what he would want for both of us.”

“We should have all of his favorites, to celebrate his selflessness.”

“He’s going to hate us.”

“Worth it.”

Peach laughed as she rose once more and ushered for Luigi to follow her, presumably to the palace kitchens. He carefully tucked Mario’s letter back into his pocket and followed after her.

[shattered-sinner]

So distracted was she by the subtle, needy sounds he made, that she didn’t realize he was moving them until her back hit the comforter — still littered with their abandoned playing cards. She didn’t care in the slightest if they stuck to her skin, bending and folding and warping beneath her body. His words were all she could focus on…that was, until his tender lips met her sensitive neck and tugged a quiet hum of pleasure from her that might have escaped a little more loudly than she had intended. A light flush colored her cheeks at the slip, and she swallowed dryly around a subsequent sound that attempted to follow the first.

In the back of her mind, Blake wondered if he realized just how helpless she was to him in every, single way. How every word drew her in like a moth to flame, and every kiss burned brighter than the last. Each brush of his fingers over heated flesh sent chill bumps over its surface, and every nudge of his hips threatened to make her whine with desire. Never before had anyone consumed her in such an overwhelming manner — not even close.

Her intentions of him. Oh, she has many — some wild, but more that were soft. More than she could name in a single setting, especially when she was so distracted by the way his mouth played her like a familiar instrument he had so carefully tuned just for himself. But, Dust, she would try.

Say it…

So she did.

“You…are the brightest light in my life. And I never want to be in the dark again.” Her head tipped back against the mattress, a strained groan catching in her throat, as his hips pressed forward against her heat. “I…am so…unimaginably grateful…that you allowed me back into your life…into your heart.” Her back arched lightly, hips squirming in a vain attempt to press him deeper, even as his previous seed still leaked out of her in trickling streams against the bedsheets. “I want to open my eyes to you…every morning…and close them on the image of you before I sleep each night.”

Her hands rose, with trembling fingers dancing in indulgent lines from his hips, along the curves of his scarred back, to curl possessively around his shoulders. “I want you all to myself. I want anyone who looks at you to instantly know you’re mine.” She couldn’t help the low, raspy tones of territorial heat that colored her words, short nails digging harshly into the muscles of his back, as if to hook her proverbial claws inside of him and possess him forever.

But then...that sharpness faded, replaced with the gentle, steady strokes of callused fingertips over the tiny crescent indentations with which she'd just decorated his shoulders. As if to soothe the sting. "I've...never really considered...the possibility of getting married, but.." A single hand lifted back to his face, palm cradling his jawline so delicately it seemed as if she might be afraid to ruin something so beautiful with her proverbially stained digits. "If I was to settle down and make that vow.." Her fingers slid almost anxiously to cup the base of his head, tilting it, and bringing their foreheads together in a sacred press, words whispered against his lips, in the heat of their shared breath, "…I would only ever do so with you. Only you. It's only ever been you...and it always will be you. Until my heart beats for the last time. It's you."

@sometimesshattered

‘Just don’t think about it.’ Marry’s words rang in Cardin’s head as he looked down to his opened suitcase in the, very ok-ish, suit he had bought for himself and Blake. How was he not supposed to think about work? This was his first time going on a vacation and all he normally thought about was work.

What was he supposed to think about? Even as he rummaged through his luggage he couldn’t help but be irritated at her words. Until he found a small slip of paper, folded and put between two pairs of clothes. Unfolding it, it read ‘Stop thinking about it’

He rolled his eyes and mumbled “Damnit Marry.” Before letting out a sigh, putting the letter back in his luggage and zipping it back together. The room they had wasn’t what he thought. His mind thought this would be some sort of cruise for some reason and expected nice sheets, kind sized bed, a bowl with ice and wine. But what they got was just an average room sporting a king sized bed, average sheets, a table, dresser and landline phone.

“Ok. Don’t think about work. Got it. I can manage that. I think… I hope…” With a light application of cologne and fully changed into more comfortable, sea worthy clothes, a short sleeved shirt and shorts, he made his way out of the room and just as he exited, there she was. Blake.

A smile already formed on his features as he approached her “Hey, I didn’t keep you waiting long did I? I just needed to get used to the movement of the boat and you definitely don’t want to see that. So. How are you? I mean, about going back home.”

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: seven ( 12.3k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

The sound of your phone ringing rips you from sleep. You sit bolt upright, confusion and panic dousing you like twin buckets of ice water. You’d been having a nightmare about something, but you can’t remember what. The tattered ends of it are already slipping away, just out of reach. You don’t chase after them.

You fumble for your phone in the dark, fingers groping uselessly at your blankets until they close around it. The bright white light from your screen blinds you as you flip it over and you blink blearily, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and trying to answer with the other.

“Hello?” you rasp, mashing the speaker button. “Who is this?”

“Apologies for disturbing your sleep, ma’am.” A woman’s voice crackles over the other end of the line. You can hear exhaustion dripping off every word. “This is Officer Kwon from the Namhyeon-dong precinct of the Seoul Metropolitan Police Force.”

You squint into the dark expanse of your bedroom, a little frown on your face as you struggle to process what she’s saying. “....okay?”

“I’m calling because we’ve got two of your hybrids in custody.”

You blink slowly. “Hmmmm, I don’t think so...” you mumble through a yawn. “They’re all in bed.”

“We ran their numbers through the registry and you were pinged as the owner of both.” You hear papers shuffling and her voice get distant as she transfers the receiver to her shoulder to free up a hand. “We’ve got a rabbit calling himself Jeongguk and a Seokjin who the rabbit says is a deer-” She sighs. “Listen, I’m at the end of my rope here. They won’t tell me where they came from and the phone number of the business they were registered to before you is out of service. They’re hurt pretty bad, worse than what we can take care of here at the station. We can’t get them any sort of medical care without their guardian’s permission, so-”

Your eyes glaze over as you groggily connect the dots.

A deer and a rabbit.

Not canine, not feline.

Other.

Other.

You shove the covers down your legs and kick them over the side of the bed. “I’m on the way,” you tell her, already adding up the distance between your building and Namhyeon-dong. It’d take an hour to get all the bus transfers you needed- your eyes narrow as you squint at the time on your phone. 3:27 AM. You’d have to get a cab. Your stomach twists at the thought of the fare, but you shove the feeling down. This was no time to be thrifty. “Do whatever you need to.”

The officer exhales in relief. You can practically hear the tension leave her shoulders. “There’s a little hybrid clinic in the neighborhood. I’ll see if I can get the vet up and convince them to go.”

“Thank you,” you breathe. She gives you the address and you type it into your notes app, reading it back to her twice to make sure you got it right. She hangs up with a promise to see you soon and your phone locks, leaving you alone in the blue-black gloom of an early morning.

This wasn’t great. This wasn’t great any way you sliced it. You’d thought you’d have an extra two weeks to get the canines settled and all five hybrids to at least not want to kill each other. That’d been the plan, at least, when you’d sequestered yourself in your bedroom without telling Jimin and Taehyung goodnight or doing any introductions. Now the others were coming and you were on borrowed time. You drag your hands down over your face. “What are we gonna do?” Nothing but silence answers you.

When you were a kid and you’d had anything big before you- a massive school project you’d waited til the last moment to start, having to walk yourself to the market because your mom was too sick to go, a hard conversation with a friend- your mom had always told you to break it down into smaller pieces. Make the big thing small; do what you can for now. So, that’s what you do.

You shove your phone into the pocket of your sweatpants, tug your backpack out from under your bed and grab a pair of socks. You slide them on as quickly as you can and head for the door. You tug it open and try to rush through, already on the way to your next small thing- but you stumble over a shoulder and go down.

You let out a yelp of surprise that quickly morphs into one of pain as your forehead knocks against the other person’s. Your hands slam down on either side of their head and their own fly up to your waist to steady you. You blink down at them, willing your eyes to adjust to the dark.

Hoseok is beneath you. He’s squinting up at you, his hair in disarray and his cheeks puffy with sleep. “Ow,” he croaks.

You wince. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, rubbing the spot on his forehead your own knocked against on autopilot. He seems to wake up a little at that, eyebrows inching up his forehead. You snatch your hand back. “Ah, sorry. I was worried I hurt you-”

“I’m okay,” he rasps, his voice still thick with sleep. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Okay.” You disentangle yourself from him and rise back to your feet. He struggles to get up too, mirroring you. The blankets pooled around his hips fall to his feet. You frown at the picture he makes, his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and indents on his cheek from the hardwood. “Did you...did you sleep out here?”

His ears fall and he lowers his head a bit between his shoulders. “Yeah,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did…”

You wrote off a lot of the behavior the boys exhibited that you didn’t understand as just a part of them being hybrids. When Taehyung affectionately headbutted you, or Jimin always hopped up on counters or Yoongi lapped from glasses instead of sipping, you just accepted it and stashed it away to google later- but this was a little more concerning. Did he not feel safe in his room? You’d tried to put him and Namjoon as far away from the felines as you could, but you also knew the cats weren’t thrilled about sharing their space. You hoped they hadn’t made him feel too unwelcome after you’d collapsed into bed.

“Is everything okay?” His ears twitch as the smell of your worry fills his nose. He leans forward and for a moment you think he’s gonna close the distance between you- but he pulls back.

“No,” he answers. You feel your heart sink. “I just...your room is closest to the front door.” You blink at him slowly, not following. You don’t know how his sight is in the dark, but he must see the confusion furrowing your brow,because he continues. “Your room is the only one on the first floor and it’s close to the living room and front door. We all sleep upstairs. If someone broke in, they’d get you first.” He tosses a finger down at the blankets. “I was sleeping here so that wouldn’t happen.”

“Nobody’s gonna get me, Hoseok,” You soothe, trying to assuage his fears. “I’m nobody-”

“You don’t know that,” he argues back. “And you’re not ‘nobody’ to me. I waited my whole life for you. I’ve gotta keep you safe.”

You don’t know what to make of that. You’d known Hoseok had been trained specifically to protect the person he’d eventually be sent to, but you hadn’t expected him to be so adamant about it. After all Namjoon grew up in the same place- No. Your expression sours as the thought stops you. No he didn’t. The wolfdog hybrid had been locked away for most of his life and interaction with others had come only in the form of meal delivery. He wouldn’t have had the director’s lessons drilled into his head everyday in the same way Hope had.

Still, no one has expressed this level of care for you since your mom died. You’re not entirely sure you deserve it.

“I was gonna wake up before you did and go back to my room,” he mumbles, kicking gently at the blanket and not meeting your eyes. “I promise, I was. I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, his ears drooping more and more the longer you look at him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Hoseok,” You tell him and his ears perk up a little. It was true, he hadn’t. His actions were sweet, if a bit misguided but you were more worried about him than anything. “I don’t know what the director told you or what you’ve heard, but I promise there’s no one after me.” He frowns at that, lips twisting into a little pout. He goes to interject, but you speak again before he can. “If you’re worried about anything, just tell me okay? If there’s anything you need to do to make yourself feel more at ease here, just tell me.” You implore him softly.

Hoseok nods slowly and you see his tail give one small wag. You nod back, and turn to go, but his voice stops you. “I think it would help a lot if I could sleep down here.” Your brow furrows at that.

“This is the only bedroom on this floor, though?”

He whines and looks like he’s about to explain- but a soft voice purring in your ear cuts him off. “He could sleep on the couch,” Jimin supplies, his arms entwining around your middle as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “It’s quite comfortable...Y/N-ah, do you mind dogs on the furniture?” His tone is light, free of the haze of sleep and a little teasing. From the way Hoseok’s ears droop and the way his shoulders curve in, you could tell Jimin hadn’t crept down here for a bit of good-natured ribbing. Your scent sours as your expression does, irritation with the leopard hybrid pricking at you. He lets out a little disgruntled murr in protest as he noses at your neck, trying to get you to soften for him. You tilt your head away from him and disentangle yourself from his arms. It’s three in the morning, you have to cross the city to deal with the fallout from God only knows what, and your neck still aches from the bruise Yoongi had left on it. You have too much on your plate to deal with Jimin needling his new housemate.

“Leave him alone, Jimin,” You exhale, side-stepping the leopard hybrid and heading down the corridor for the door. “Hoseok, you can sleep where you want. I’ve gotta go.”

The doberman takes a step forward. “I’ll come with you-” the icy look Jimin shoots him has him slowing but it’s not until the leopard hybrid bares his teeth at him that he stalls entirely. The sound of his whimper has you whirling around, but when you do, you find Jimin looking at you, blasé and Hoseok eyeing him with uncertainty

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise,” you toss back over your shoulder as you slide your feet into a pair of shoes. “Please, just...if you can’t be friendly, just do your own thing ‘til I get back.” You lace up your sneakers as quickly as you can and duck out the door. “Text me if you need anything; I’ll call on the way back.” And you’re gone, leaving the leopard and the doberman in the dark.

You are not at all confident in their ability to maintain a truce while you’re gone. You’re almost certain that if you hadn’t shoved your way between Namjoon and Yoongi last night, they’d have come to blows right there in the lobby last night. You punch the button for the ground floor and slump back against the railing of the elevator, exhaustion settling heavy on you now that you were alone again. You’d known Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung weren’t thrilled about sharing their space, but you hadn’t expected this kind of fallout from bringing new hybrids home. You don’t know if there’s anything you can do to make things a little easier, but you want to. Sighing, you resign yourself to more research. You pull out your phone and start typing.

why are my hybrids freaking the fuck out

You backspace. Venting at google wasn’t going to help you figure out what the sharp looks Jimin kept throwing Hoseok while he thought your back was turned meant or why Yoongi had been so furious the other hybrids’ scent was on you.

why don’t my hybrids like each other

Just like all your other searches, this one turns up millions of results. You thumb over the links but none of them are helpful. They’re dealing with puppy hybrids bickering and cat hybrids hissing at each other. None of them cover cross-species beef. None of them deal with exotics. You sigh, lock your phone and tilt your head back to stare at the soft yellow lights in the elevator’s ceiling. You were out of your depth. You’d known that from the moment Mr. Seo turned you into an heiress with a wave of his fountain pen. You get the urge to run, that old niggling feeling that settled like a stone in your mind and made your palms itch.

It’s been years since you last felt the need to pull a disappearing act. You don’t think you’ve done it since the one year anniversary of your mom’s death. The foster home you’d been sent to was a shit show. You found out the woman in charge had been pocketing the money you gave her every month for your mother’s columbarium fees and her urn was in danger of being thrown out. You’d shoved everything you owned into your school bag and walked across the city to get her. When the police found you, you were striding down the side of the highway, her urn clutched to your chest, determined to go anywhere but there.

You hadn’t known where you were going then; you still didn’t now. All you’d had was the urge to flee and fire under your feet. All you’d had was a singular focus on the road ahead.

The elevator reaches the ground floor with a soft ding, the automated voice letting you know you’ve reached the lobby. You step out and shuffle across it with your head down, careful to avoid eye contact with the receptionist watching you warily from behind her desk.

It’s a cold night. A blast of frigid air hits your face the second you’re out the door. You curse under your and fold your arms around yourself in a futile effort to keep warm. You should go back upstairs and get the coat Yoongi made you buy. You shift from one foot to the other, weighing your options- and decide against it. If the conversation you’d had with Hoseok was enough to wake Jimin and send him slinking toward you, you running in and out of the penthouse would almost certainly wake Yoongi up. Memories flash in your mind: his hands gripping your hips tight, his rough tongue laving over your neck, that self-satisfied smirk he’d let spread over his mouth. You pinch yourself, trying to stem the heat you can feel crawling out the neck of your sweatshirt. It had upset you, there was no denying that. The warm feeling that’d bubbled up in your stomach at being touched didn’t wash away the fact that him marking you had nothing to do with your friendship and everything to do with warding off the canine hybrids.

Yeah, you decide, quickening your pace down the ice-slicked sidewalk. You’d much rather face the cold than him.

You make quick work of the walk from Haneul Tower to the streets of the club district. It’s only two blocks up and one over, but by the time you get there, you feel like a giant icicle. You’re out of place in a sweatshirt and scuffed up sneakers among the glitz and glamor of the club-goers, but you don’t have time to deal with your imposter syndrome. You duck into the first taxi you find, pass the old man the address Officer Kwon had given you and settle back.

He complains nearly the entire time about how far out of the way you’re making him go. You apologize as much as you’re able and promise him return fair back to Gangnam if he waits for you. He huffs and puffs, but he still takes you. Forty minutes later, you’re standing on the sidewalk outside of Happy Tails Hybrid Clinic, rapping urgently at the glass. After two minutes that feel like twenty, someone finally answers you.

You think she’s in her late twenties but the dark circles under her eyes she keeps rubbing at make her look older. She’s dressed in the typical winter police uniform, minus her jacket. The pale blue sleeves of her dress shirt are rolled up above her elbows and are blotchy with pale red marks she’d tried to scrub out. Blood. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

She unlocks the door and pokes her headout. “Y/N L/N?” She asks, eyes narrowed against the glare of the street lamps.

“Yeah,” you answer, giving one short nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Officer Kwon; we spoke on the phone.” She opens the door for you fully, stepping back and ushering you in urgently. “I’ll be honest,” she says once you’re safely inside and the door is locked back tight again. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna show.”

You frown at that. “Why wouldn’t I have shown?”

“Most of the time when hybrids run, it’s an abuse case.” She drops into one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room. Her head falls back with a thunk against the yellow plaster. If it hurts, she shows no signs of it, just stares up at the fluorescent lights. You settle on the lip of the chair next to her, feeling awkward and anxious. “The rabbit broke into an Olive Young to steal antiseptic and bandages,” she supplies without you having to ask. “He said he did it for the deer. When he showed me he was…” Officer Kwon exhales sharply and tips forward to rest her head in her hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood.”

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” you insist softly. “It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” she answers, voice muffled against her palms. “I pulled your name and ID picture from the national database and the rabbit didn’t recognize you. Even if you didn’t do it, I didn’t think you’d wanna deal with it.”

Your anxiety spikes at her words. What had happened to the hybrids before she found them? Who’d want to hurt them that badly? Your mouth feels dry, but you force it to move. “Do you know who they were running from?”

Officer Kwon shakes her head and drags her hands down her face. She lets her arms fall to her knees as she hunches over in her chair, back bowed with exhaustion. “Whatever the rabbit knows, he’s not sharing,” she exhales. “-And the deer’s in no position to speak up. He’s been unconscious since I found him.” As if sensing you tense, she adds, “He’s on the table now. I think Dr. Cheon put him under sedation.”

You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure if there’s anything you even can. You have a million questions buzzing around in your mind, but so heavy is the weight of them on your tongue that you can’t find the strength to ask a single one. You’re saved by the doctor coming out from the back.

The door right next to the counter that reads STAFF + PATIENTS ONLY swings open and a middle aged woman in cat print scrubs comes out, shoulders hunched in like she’s got the weight of the world on her back. You can’t blame her; she looks every bit as tired as you feel. She stops just short of you and Officer Kwon, peels off a pair of blue medical gloves, dyed sticky red, and tosses them into the garbage can behind the reception desk. “Well,” she huffs, dragging her fingers through the greying wisps of hair that’d escaped from her braid. “It’s done.”

“How is he?” The police officer asks before you can. Dr. Cheon grimaces and leans against the counter.

“If you hadn’t found him in time, it could’ve been much worse.” You think she’s trying to put you at ease, but you don’t want compromising optimism. You want the truth. “An hour or two later and we’d be dealing with a very different situation, medically.”

You swallow and force yourself to speak. “Do you have any idea how this could’ve happened?”

Dr. Cheon turns her attention to you and blinks slowly, like she’d just noticed you were there. “...this is the guardian?” The police officer nods. The doctor takes you in, eyes roving from the mess of your hair twisted into a bun atop your head, to the scuffed rubber toes of your sneakers. She’s judging you, you know, trying to find something that’d mark you as the reason for the pain and suffering of the hybrids she’d helped. She finds none. “It didn’t happen to them,” she sighs. “Someone did this to them on purpose, likely over the course of several hours.” She tugs the office chair out from behind the desk and sinks into it, her limbs going to jelly the second she’s seated.

“Jeongguk won’t tell me what happened, but I know the signs. Puncture wounds around the entirety of Seokjin’s ankle, remnants of both sedatives and epinephrine in both of their blood, what looks like a bullet graze wound on Jeongguk’s side and he’s got a broken arm,” she rattles off symptom after symptom, each of them making the knot in your belly wind tighter and tighter. “The worst of it is Seokjin’s head. Hairline fractures all along the top of his skull and lacerations on his pedicles. They took his antlers from him.”

You feel sick to your stomach. You knew there were people who hurt hybrids, just like there were people that hurt animals and other people. You just hadn’t expected to ever have to deal with the fallout of one such incident. “Will he be okay?”

“He’ll survive, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dr. Cheon allows. “But he’ll need to be monitored closely during these next few weeks. They were hunted. If they decide to come with you instead of going to the shelter with Officer Kwon, you’ll need to be cognisant of the fact that the trauma from that could manifest in unexpected ways.”

Hunted. They’d been hunted.

You knew hunting was illegal in South Korea, you had that little tidbit tucked away in the recesses of your grade school memory along with the list of provinces and their capitals and the names of all the sailor scouts. It’d been outlawed in the fifties with the rash of hybrid centered legislation after a hunter up in Chungcheongbuk-do had shot a black bear hybrid he’d mistaken for a real bear. It was determined that since humans couldn’t distinguish between regular animals and hybrids shifted down into animal form, hunting had to be outlawed to prevent any accidental killings.

“Were they shifted down?” You ask. “Did someone not realize-”

“No.” Dr. Cheon’s answer is swift and final. “They knew. This was a choice.” The disgust in her voice is palpable.

“There are places that...Some centers cater to people that want to hunt.” Officer Kwon cuts in. “They have hybrids as employees and they let people rent airsoft or paintball guns to come hunt them. It’s supposed to be more ethical than actual hunting. No matter how distasteful I might personally find it, if they have a permit, there’s not really much the police can do unless a law has been broken. ”

“And without any information on where they came from, we can’t prove that one has,” Dr. Cheon finishes. “The most I can do as a vet is submit a report to the police about a possible abuse case and hope it makes its way to the hybrid crimes unit.” You hear the words she doesn’t speak, the meaning behind them. There’s nothing more we can do. They’ll get away with it. This is the end of the line.

Dr. Cheon drops her palms against her knees and forces herself to stand “Jeongguk’s injuries should heal just fine outside of the clinic,” She sighs. “But Seokjin-” she clicks her tongue against her teeth and gives a single shake of her head. “Cervine hybrids don’t shed their antlers like real deer do. There’s no telling if his will grow back or what they’ll look like when they do. All we can do is keep the wounds clean and pray.”

You nod numbly. She gestures for you to follow her and you do, making your way around the reception desk and through the staff door with her.

It’s dim in the back. The overhead lights are off and your path ahead is illuminated only by what light spills over from the reception room and an exam room up ahead. There’s only four of them, but the door to this one is slightly ajar. “Wait here for a second,” Dr. Cheon instructs, slipping through the door and leaving you alone in the corridor. You can hear her speaking softly to someone inside and them answering in even quieter tones. You have to strain to pick up the edge of their voice and even then, you can’t understand what they’re saying. “Would you like her to come in here, or would you like her to stay outside?” You hear her ask. The response is too soft for you to catch but a second later the door swings open.

Dr. Cheon steps out and gestures for the shadowy figure behind her to follow. “It’s alright,” she assures them. “No one here is going to hurt you.” Slowly, they shuffle out from the back.

It’s Jeongguk. There’s no denying what he is, not with the black velvet ears you see poking up out of his mop of wavy, dark hair. They’re alert; they prick toward you when your breath hitches. His eyes are dark and wide and the tip of his nose twitches when he looks at you. You muster up a smile you hope is reassuring and this right foot taps once against the linoleum. Yes, he’s a rabbit- but he’s also fucking huge.

What little research you’d managed to do in between apologizing to your taxi driver and keeping an eye on the fare had been straightforward: rabbit hybrids were naturally timid, needed a lot of attention and were small. Most sources you’d checked seemed to concur that they very rarely cleared 5’5. Jeongguk is pushing 6 feet and he’s built like a professional athlete. You suppose that’s what happens when you’ve spent your whole life running for it.

He’s wearing a teeshirt that’s too tight on his chest, the logo of the Seoul police force stretched thin, and a pair of grey sweatpants that are too short for him, both obviously on loan from Officer Kwon. His feet are bare, but there are bandages wrapped around both of them. True to what Dr. Cheon told you, his arms in a cast and wrapped in a sling. There’s scrapes on his knuckles and bruises blooming on the right side of his face. He looks like he’s been through the wringer. Still, he doesn’t slouch or shrink before you.

“Jeongguk, this is the woman we talked about,” Dr. Cheon tells him. He nods, but doesn’t move his gaze from your face once. “You’ll be going home with her-”

“Only if he wants,” You interject and she nods in agreement, quickly adding that caveat in.

“-only if you want.” He nods again and swallows, his bare foot giving another little tap against the floor.

“What about Seokjin?” He asks you.

“If he wants to come too, he’s welcome to, but neither of you have to if you don’t want to.” There’s a little frown on his face as you answer and he finally looks away. You can’t help but think that’s a bad sign, that he thinks he and his friend would be safer in a shelter that they ever could be with you- but then he asks another question.

“Do you have a husband or a boyfriend?” You frown at that. Why was it that every hybrid in the city was suddenly so concerned with your marital status? Hoseok had asked you in the car last night and now Jeongguk seemed worried about it as well. Sensing your confusion, he clarifies. “Do you live with any men?”

You wince. “Oh! Yeah, I live with five.” You see his expression darken as his ears sag. “They’re mostly predator-”

“If they’re hybrids, it’s fine.” He interjects, a little tension leaving his shoulders. “I can live with them.”

You relax too. From what you’d seen, most shelters weren’t nice places. They were overcrowded and underfunded. If the news was any indication, some of the worse ones got treated like grab bags by fighting rings, who’d shell out a couple thousand won for a canine hybrid and turn him into a prize fighter. You didn’t want that for them, not if you could provide an alternative.

But was it one though? He said he could live with them, but could they live with him? You think back to Yoongi and Namjoon snarling at each other last night, about Jimin’s little jabs at Hoseok. Yeah, you’d need to have another house meeting when you got home if this was ever going to work. Jeongguk had just been through hell and back; the last thing he needed was a territorial bobcat trying him.

“You can change your mind any time,” You tell him softly. “If you get there and feel like it’s not a good fit for you and Seokjin, you can go, okay?”

He dips his head. “Okay.”

“I think Seokjin can decide for himself.”

Your eyes rocket just over Jeongguk’s shoulder. There’s a man leaning heavily against the doorframe of the room the rabbit hybrid had come out of. He’s in a blue exam gown, his feet bare except for a plain white cast on his left leg. Every part of his head from his eyebrows up is bandaged, but you see soft tufts of red-brown hair poking out from between the layers. He looks human. You’d almost think he was if it weren’t for the oblong pupils in his hazel eyes and supple ears you see twitching as he observes you.

“What are you doing up?!” The alarm in Dr. Cheon’s voice is palpable. “Those sedatives should’ve kept you out ‘til morning.” She takes a step like she’s going to rush to his side- but stops short when he tenses and tilts his chin to his chest. Just for a second, it looked like he was preparing himself to square off against her- like he was brandishing something that wasn’t really there. His antlers, you think. He was trying to protect himself with his antlers.

Seokjin forces himself upright, his knees wobbling as he tries to stand on his own. He looks off-balance, and it’s not just because of the cast. He looks like he’s trying to figure out how to stand now that a piece of him is missing. His legs are trembling. “What can I say?” He huffs, sounding like he just ran a marathon. “I like to surprise people.” And then his legs buckle underneath him.

He hits the floor with a heavy thud. Jeongguk and Dr. Cheon rush to his side but he waves them off, eyes closed and brow knit in frustration. “I’m fine,” he insists, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to struggle back to his feet. “I’m fine, I just…I just need a moment-”

“You need bed rest.” Dr. Cheon goes to latch on to his arm to help him stand but Jeongguk catches her wrist, gives a single shake of his head and she drops it back to her side.

Seokjin manages to get himself back standing, but he sways precariously. “If this were a hunt, I’d already be dead.” He swallows and inhales shakily through his nose, doing his best not to gulp down air. “You should have left me, Jeongguk. You know the rules. One falls, but the herd rises-”

“The herd is gone, Seokjin.” The bitterness in the younger hybrid’s voice takes you aback. It’s a black wave, threatening to drown all four of you right there in the corridor. Seokjin stares at him, his jaw slack and pretty brown eyes wide.

“What do you-”

“They’re gone.” The rabbit hybrid’s bruised fingers clench into a fist and he fixes his glare on the tile. “All of them.”

Silence rings in the corridor. Dr. Cheon’s mouth is pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t press for details and neither do you. She’d been right. They’d been hunted. The thought of it turns your stomach. Seokjin closes his eyes, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks as a muscle tenses in his jaw. He’s thinking. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is settled on you. Your heart jumps as your nerves get the better of you, and one of his ears flicks back.

“You’re taking us?” He asks. You swallow.

“Only if you want me to.” An unreadable look passes between him and Jeongguk, the younger’s nose twitching.

“Speaking strictly as your doctor,” Dr. Cheon speaks up, interrupting the hybrids’ telepathy. “You need time to rest and recuperate-”

“Is there any special reason I have to rest and recuperate here?” He asks. You can’t help but notice the slight challenge in his voice. The corner of the doctor’s mouth twitches.

“No, I suppose not,” she acquiesces. She doesn’t look particularly pleased about the prospect of letting her patient go when he was still in the danger zone, but if the look of determination in Seokjin’s eyes is any indication, she doesn’t have much choice.

“Then, we’ll go.” The tone of his voice is final, letting everyone present know that he’s done talking about it.

That's the last that’s said to you or anyone else about it. Jeongguk falls in line with his orders easily and so doesDr. Cheon after she manages to get him to accept a pair of crutches she’d foisted upon him and passes off a prescription for pain meds and both of their check up schedules to you.

“It’s important that they don’t miss these dates,” she tells you at the reception counter, tapping the sheath of papers with one clean, blunted nail. “A single one of them. And make sure they don’t shift ‘til I’ve given them the all clear. Hybrid injuries are tricky, but they’re aggravated by the shift.” You nod, hanging onto every word she says, forcing your tired brain to take mental notes. “And-” she cuts her eyes at Jeongguk and Jin, both of whom are lingering in various extremes in the room, the deer hybrid sitting ramrod straight in a chair in the far right corner and the rabbit pretending to browse informational pamphlets. Once Dr. Cheon’s deemed it safe, she leans closer to you across the counter and gestures for you to come closer as well. You blink in confusion but acquiesce. “It’s important that your current hybrids be made to feel secure with the new additions coming.” She tells you, voice gravely serious. “Do you know about scenting order?”

After a beat, you nod. “Yeah. I mean, I read about it online but-”

Dr. Cheon tuts her tongue against the back of her teeth. “Online sources are shaky at best, wildly inaccurate at worst- particularly forums.” Your stomach flips. Had all your research been for nothing? “What did they tell you?”

“Um…” your brain boots up slowly as you try to recall the hours of research you’d done. “Uh, dominant hybrid first, then in age order?”

The corner of Dr. Cheon’s mouth quirks in an odd way. “That’s certainly a simplified way of looking at it.”

You wince.

“Hybrid group dynamics can be…” She searches for the right word. “Messy to start out with, especially with hybrids who don’t know each other who find themselves with an inexperienced handler. They’re all going to be trying to figure out where they fit in the pecking order as well as how their relationship with you works. There’s likely to be a lot of posturing, not just in order to impress you, but to solidify their place as well.” Dr. Cheon drags a hand down over her face. “Seven male hybrids under one roof...It’d be a miracle if no one’s missing fingers by the time the week’s out.”

“Is there any way I can stop them from being mean to each other?”

“I’m not a behaviorist,” The doctor sighs. “But I’d suggest you start with a conversation.”

You slide into the back of the taxi a little after 5:30 AM and pull out your phone. You’d promised to call on the way back and you don’t want a repeat of what’d happened the last time you’d forgotten. You scroll down your contacts, thumb hovering over Yoongi’s name and you hesitate. You remember warm lips, a rough tongue. You remember hands gripping your hips tight and a possessive growl in your ear. You press Taehyung’s name instead.

The tiger hybrid picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” His voice is slow and scratchy, still thick with sleep.

“Hey, it’s Y/N-” Almost immediately a happy rumbling starts from his end of the line. You can hear the sleepy joy in it and it makes your face warm.”A-and I just wanted to let you guys know I’m on the way home.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgement, a low, musical sound. “Where’d you go?”

You bite your lip as nerves spark up in you. Well, all things considered, it was probably better for him to find out now rather than later. “The last two hybrids my uncle got…they were hurt and I had to come get them.”

The line is quiet for a moment and you gnaw at the bottom of your lip. Finally, Taehyung speaks. “Ah.” That’s all he says. Somehow, that’s worse than whatever Yoongi growling at the new hybrids or Jimin icing them out.

“I’ll be home in about another forty-five minutes, okay? Could you have everyone get together in the living room for me? We need to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, I can.”

You wince. There’s an almost imperceptible change in his voice. You swallow. “Taehyung, are you upset?”

He hums again like he’s considering it. “No,” he answers after a moment. “I don’t think i am. At least, not with you.”

That does little to allay your fears, but you force yourself to sound upbeat when you tell him, “I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The line clicks off and you drop your head against the headrest. A conversation. It should be a simple thing, but you spend the entirety of your taxi ride back to Gangnam with your stomach in knots. If the thought of introducing your two (very injured, very vulnerable) new hybrids to a house full of predators wasn’t enough, you have to try to allay Jeongguk’s inexplicable fear of the taxi driver. The middle aged man isn’t thrilled about ferrying hybrids across the city anyway, but between Seokjin swooning and Jeongguk thumping his foot so hard the whole car rattles whenever the man so much as looks in his rearview mirror, he’s almost ready to put all three of you out on the side of the highway. You have to promise him a 50,000 won tip just to get him to relent. He rolls up the partition, but even that doesn’t put Jeongguk at ease.

The rabbit hybrid is curled up in the corner of the backseat, his back against the door, his injured arm cradled close and his knees pulled up to his chin. His ears are on high alert, twitching at every passing car or stray siren. His whole body is tensed up like there’s a current running through it, like if he lets himself relax for a second, he’ll disperse into nothing. He’s glaring daggers at the partition, but you know he can’t see the driver. The car rolls over a speed bump a bit too fast and he flinches, hand shooting out for the door handle.

You watch him, concern coloring your scent. It’s not your place to ask, you know, and you feel almost stupid doing it, but the words slip out of their own accord. “Are you okay?” It’s a ridiculous question. You can still see the bruises blooming on his cheekbone, see the angry red of his split lip in the stray light of street lamps. His dark eyes flick toward you, round nose twitching.

“How do you know he’s taking us somewhere safe?” His gaze shifts from you, to the partition, to Seokjin, dozing fitfully on your otherside. The deer hybrid had finally surrendered to his pain meds not a second after you’d helped buckle him in. He’d been out cold before the driver had pulled away from the curb.

“Because that’s what I paid him to do,” you tell him, truthfully. You’d never given much thought to how much trust you placed in taxi and bus drivers to not kidnap you before. You certainly had to now, especially when Jeongguk seemed hyperaware of the fact that you’d entrusted all of your lives to a stranger. The rabbit hybrid swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his throat. He gives a little shake of his head.

“He could take your money and still take us somewhere bad. He could take us up into the mountains and Seokjin and I wouldn’t be able to do anything because we’re hurt and-”

“That’s not going to happen, Jeongguk,” you say in as soothing a voice as you can manage to muster up. “It’s really unlikely that that’ll happen, but even if it did, I’d do my best to protect you.”

He snorts, ears tilting back. They brush the roof of the car as they do and he shrinks himself, shoulders hunching forward. “What can you do?” His tone is derisive. “You’re only human. You’re not as fast as us or as strong-”

“I’d try,” you insist, some strong, unnameable emotion tightening your chest at the thought of them in danger. “If if came down to it, I’d still try to protect the pair of you-”

“You don’t even know me.” Jeongguk’s voice is edging somewhere between disgust and disbelief. You look away from him then and at your hands, gripping your knees.

“I don’t,” you agree easily. “But I’d like to. Even if I don’t- even if I didn’t, people should still help each other when they can. We owe each other that much.” The taxi is quiet for a moment, only the sound of tires rushing over the slick pavement and other cars zooming by filling the empty air between the two of you. Finally, the rabbit hybrid exhales shakily.

“I’m not a person.” He sounds resigned to that fact, like he’s accepted a burden far too heavy for him. “I’m not even an animal. I’m a-”

“Just because you aren’t human…” you start off hesitantly, very much aware that you might be crossing several invisible lines. “...doesn’t mean you’re not a person. You have your own thoughts and feelings and emotions. You deserve to have them heard. I know I’m not as fast as you or as strong, but the least I can do is listen to you, right?” The car is silent again. You’re too nervous to look at Jeongguk, worried that you’d gone too far- but then there’s a warm weight against your side. It starts slow at first, just your shoulders brushing against each other, but before you know it, Jeongguk’s leaning his whole body against yours. He’s slumped over with his head tucked beneath your chin like he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Jeongguk-”

“I’m afraid.” He admits in a whisper, like it’s the worst thing in the world. “Everything in me tells me to run all the time, but I can’t anymore.” His ears droop and his pretty dark eyes slip shut. This close, you can hear his heart beating at breakneck speed in his chest, feel how he shudders with every shaky inhale. “I’m so tired of running.” He’s terrified. You wouldn’t have guessed from his posture. Maybe the reason he held himself so tight was to stop himself from shaking apart.

You watch in surprise as the rabbit hybrid links his fingers with yours and drops your hand on top of his head, right between his velvety ears. “Help me like this.” You’re frozen, unsure what to do with a six foot tall man practically crawling into your sweatshirt with you. Was this really okay? He’d just been through something traumatic, the details of which you know nothing about. You hadn’t thought he’d want anyone to touch him, much less you, a virtual stranger. You don’t know what to do. The car jerks to a quick stop and the taxi driver leans on his horn, curses jaywalkers. Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens and he flinches so hard you’re surprised he didn’t knock his head into your teeth. He exhales shakily, tilts his head up and brushes his nose along the underside of your jaw. “Please,” he asks in a voice so small you know it’s killing him. “Just ‘til we get there, please just let me be weak.”

That breaks something inside you. Despite how awkward you might feel, he’s sure to be feeling worse. You wrap your arms fully around him, hesitant until you feel him go lax in your arms. You slowly stroke the back of his head and he buries his face in your clavicle, his eyes squeezed shut. “We’re almost there,” you assure him gently as he fists his good hand in the fabric of your sweatshirt. “You’re almost home.”

By the time the three of you arrive back at Haneul tower, the sky is lightening in the east and the first wave of office workers are making their way from your building into the streets of Gangnam. It’s not even 6 AM yet, but the city is stirring.

It takes you a good ten minutes to rouse both the boys and get them out of the taxi. After you’d let Jeongguk cling to you, the rabbit hybrid had fallen asleep quickly, the exhaustion from his turbulent day finally catching up to him. Even in sleep he was latched on to you, a small crease between his brows and his nose wrinkled up. Seokjin hadn’t fared much better. The cocktail of meds Dr. Cheon had given him had rendered him dead to the world for the entirety of the drive back. Even now you were having trouble rousing him.

“Seokjin…” You shake the sleeping stag’s shoulders but the only response you get is a slight hitch in his snoring. “Seokjin, please wake up, we have to go…” You can practically feel the glare the taxi driver is giving you in his rearview mirror. Yeah, the meter is still running, but you’ve taken up enough of his time as it is. “Seokjin, come on…” Jeongguk is standing behind you, staring bleary-eyed up at the apartment building, his free hand fisted in the fabric of your sweatshirt. If he’s cold in his thin tee-shirt and bare feet, he makes no mention of it.

Without warning, the taxi driver leans on the horn. Seokjin’s eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright, fear making his body tight. Jeongguk jerks so violently you think he’s going to rip a hole in your sweatshirt. You stumble back a few paces, trying to steady the rabbit and stop the pair of you from tumbling into the street. When you manage to right yourself, you slam a palm against the roof of the car and glare in the window at the driver. “Yo, what the fuck?”

The man glares back at you and waves you off. “I don’t have all day!” He shouts. “Get your animal and get out!”

You want to argue with him, you want to make him apologize- but the sight of Seokjin disoriented and afraid stops you. He’s looking at you with hazy eyes, his whole body stiff and his chest heaving. It’s for his sake alone that you hold your tongue. You reach a hand out to him. “Come on, buddy.” You say. “I got you.” He looks from your face to your hand and finally, slowly, places his own in it. His fingers are long and elegant and his hand dwarfs your’s. You tug him from the backseat and he leans heavily on you, hopping awkwardly to avoid walking on his broken foot. You pass him his crutches and he takes them, wobbling awkwardly as he tries to set himself to rights. “Can you stand?” You ask him. He nods and starts limping for the glass doors of Haneul Tower. He’s doing his best to look strong. His back is straight and his head is high, but you don’t miss the tremble in his fingers or the way he winces whenever the wind blows over the top of his head. You shove some bills at the taxi driver with a final, disapproving look, usher Jeongguk up onto the sidewalk and head inside after Seokjin.

The moment the three of you breach the double doors, Jeongguk drops his hand from your sweatshirt. His eyes rove over the glass and granite, round nose twitching at all the scents and his ears standing at attention on top of his head. He pauses, a little furrow between his brows. You’re halfway to the elevators, hovering a foot behind Seokjin in case he falls, before you notice the rabbit hybrid isn’t following you.

You cast a look back over his shoulder and find him gawking up at the hanging lights, mouth slightly ajar and starry-eyed. The corner of your mouth twitches. He’s cute, you decide. The thought leaves you almost instantly when you see Mr. Park powerwalking over to him, a sunny smile on his face. Jeongguk takes notice of him only a split second after you do and his eyes wide. You see him tense up, watch the fingers on his uninjured hand curl into a ball.

“You need to get him,” Seokjin says, sounding like he’s out of breath. You turn your attention back to the deer hybrid. He’s leaning heavily on his crutches and his face is pale. “You need to get him,” he repeats, nodding at Jeongguk. “That man gets any closer and Jeongguk will kick him.”

You whip back around. Mr. Park is closing the distance between them, seemingly unconcerned by the look of distress on the rabbit hybrids face or how his foot seems to be tapping a mile a minute.

“Excuse me!” The older man says, reaching out to put a hand on the rabbit hybrid’s shoulder. “Where’s your-”

“Mr. Park!” You practically sprint over as fast as you can, sliding between the receptionist and the hybrid just as he’d started winding his leg back. Mr. Park blinks, surprised to find you so suddenly in front of him. You offer him a tight smile. “He’s with me.”

“Oh! Ms. L/N, I apologize. He didn’t have a collar, so I assumed he was a stray.” The statement pricks at you, but you know he means nothing by it, so you try to stamp down your irritation. “It’s rare but we do occasionally have them come in in the hope someone will take them in.” He clucks his tongue against his teeth. “Such a shame really.”

You feel Jeongguk’s hand fist in the fabric of your sweatshirt. He wants to go. You nod emphatically at what Mr. Park says, already heading back to the elevators. “Yeah, totally,” you agree, shuffling the rabbit hybrid in front of you and putting some distance between him and the elderly man. “Well, have a good morning! I’ll see you later!”

“Ms. L/N, I actually need to speak with you-”

You wave him off and duck into the elevator Seokjin had called in your brief absence. “We’ll talk later!” You tell him, pressing the close door buttons as quickly as you can and willing them to shut before he can catch up.

“But it’s about your-!”

The doors click shut and you’re blessed with silence. You exhale in a short puff, press the button for the penthouse and slump against the cool metal wall, finally letting yourself relax for a moment. The elevator starts rolling and Jeongguk flinches beside you. He duck his head like he’s going to crouch down- but he stops himself, grips the railing instead.

“It’s okay,” You soothe. “It’s just-”

“I’m fine,” he insists, forcing himself to stand up straight and release the death grip he has on your sweatshirt. “I’m fine; my time’s up.”

It’s just like he’d said in the car. Just ‘til we get there, let me be weak.

The rest of the elevator ride passes in silence outside of the automated bell dinging as you pass each new floor and Seokjin panting quietly. He’s in a bad way. He’ll need another dose of pain meds soon. You arrive on the top floor, punching in the key code and pull the door open. “Let me get Seokjin settled, Jeongguk and I-” You run directly into someone.

Their arms wrap around you, covered in a brown cable knit sweater. It’s soft and they smell of vanilla. They press their cheek against the top of your head and exhale, a little rumble kicking up in their chest. “You’re back.” Taehyung.

“Hey, buddy.” You pat him on the back gently and peer around him. Yoongi and Jimin are both sprawled on the couch, legs kicked out so there isn’t room for anyone else to join them. Namjoon is sitting on the stairs shooting daggers at the back of Yoongi’s head and his arms crossed over his chest.Hoseok is lingering in the no man’s land between the living room and kitchen looking like he’d much rather be anywhere else. The atmosphere is tense to say the least.

Taehyung dips his head down. “I got them, like you said,” he whispers, lips brushing against the tip of your ear and his breath warm. You have fight off a little shiver, but if he notices it, he doesn’t react. “I don’t think Hyung and Jiminie like the others very much.”

You give a little nod of acknowledgement. “That’s okay,” you tell him. “We all just need to get to know each other a little better.”

Seokjin hobbles through the door, past the tiger hybrid and drops himself onto a stool on the kitchen with a heavy exhale. “Well, I’ve got maybe fifteen minutes at most before these meds catch a second wind, so let’s get this over with.” He’s doing his best to sound cavalier but he’s pallid. You don’t miss the thin sheen of cold sweat on his face and neck. “Seokjin. Twenty-eight. Red stag.”

All the other hybrids are staring at him in a mix of confusion, irritation and, in some cases, open dislike. It seems like they don’t know what to make of him. It’s Yoongi who speaks first. “If you’re a stag,” he drawls and you already feel dread welling up in you at what you know is going to follow. “Where are your antlers?”

Seokjin fixes him with a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I only put them on for special occasions.”

“Okay!” You clap your hands together trying to diffuse the tension you can feel building. “New house rule: let’s not ask each other about injuries past or present unless we’re asking how to help.” Yoongi looks miffed, but he settles. It’s weird. Normally, you’d have expected him to say something snarky back to you. He’s trying not to push his luck after last night, you think. “Yoongi, why don’t you go next?”

His ears flick in annoyance, but he does as you ask. “I’m Yoongi, I’m twenty-seven and I’m a bobcat-”

“I’m Jimin,” his junior pipes up before he’s hardly had time to finish. “I’m an amur leopard and I came here with Yoongi-hyung and Tae. We’ve been with Y/N the longest.” He says it like it’s an important piece of information for everyone to know.

Beside you, Taehyung lifts one hand, palm up. “Hi,” he says calmly. “I’m Taehyung. I like the color purple.” Everyone watches him to see what else he’s going to say, but the tiger hybrid is finished. You give him a little nudge with your shoulder.

“Tell them how old you are and what your hybrid is,” you suggest.

“Oh,” he lifts his eyebrows like the thought genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m twenty-four and I’m a tiger.” Suddenly remembering something, he tilts his head forward in a little bow. “It’s nice to meet you all.” A sour look takes over Yoongi’s face and Jimin rolls his eyes, gestures for the youngest of their group to come sit beside him.

Hoseok is the next one to pipe up. “I’m Hoseok!” He seems to perk up a little when you turn your eyes to him, his docked tail giving as much of a wag as it’s able. “I’m a Doberman, I’m twenty-six and Joonie and I came from the same pla-”

“My name is Namjoon.” The wolfdog cuts off the other canine with a growl. All the wind goes out of Hoseok’s sails and you don’t miss the way Seokjin freezes up at the dark sound, suddenly alert. You weren’t sure if prey hybrids still avoided predator hybrids like their animal counterparts did, but you’d need to learn and fast. Namjoon leans back on the stairs, his jaw clenched. “I’m the same age as him-” he jerks his head at the Doberman hybrid. “-so I guess I’m twenty-six too.” He makes no mention of his hybrid and you don’t press. You don’t know how sensitive a subject it is for him yet, but you don’t want to find out the hard way.

Hoseok looks back at you and cocks his head to the side, his gaze fixed on a spot just over your shoulder. “Who’s he?”

Five pairs of eyes follow his. You turn around. Outside the apartment, still in the corridor, is Jeongguk, his back pressed against the wall and his eyes wide as he surveys the mixed bag of hybrids spread out in front of you. Your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Do you wanna come in?”

His gaze flicks from you, to the cats, then to Hoseok and finally to Namjoon. It’s only when he sees the wolfdog hybrid that he moves from the wall. He takes halting, jittery steps one after the other until he’s planted by your side, his eyes on his bare feet. Every move he makes makes it look like he’s fighting against his own body, forcing himself to tamp down his instinct and move.

“Can you introduce yourself?” You ask him softly. “Or do you want me to?”

His good hand clenches into a fist and forces himself to look up. He meets each of the other hybrid’s eyes evenly. “My name is Jeongguk.” When he speaks, there’s no shake in his voice. “I’m twenty-three years old. I came from the same place as Seokjin but we don’t know each other that well. I’m a Flemish Giant Rabbit.” So that was why he was so big. You’d never seen a Flemish Giant in real life, but you’d happened across the odd youtube video of them once or twice in your suggestions. They were huge.

With introductions out of the way, you feel a little tension melt out of your shoulders. That was the biggest hurdle. Maybe now that they all at least knew each other, they’d be a little more open to being around each other. You let out a little exhale. “And I’m Y/N. I’m also twenty-three and this is my uncle’s apartment. He’s the only that bought all of you but I only found out you were coming a little over a week ago, so please forgive me for being unprepared.” You rub your palms against your eyes, trying to combat the exhaustion you can feel crawling over you. “I don’t know that much about hybrids, but I’m trying to learn. A lot of things you’re gonna have to help me with. I’m not expecting you guys to be pets or best friends or anything, but if we could all try to get along I’d appreciate it.” You offer all seven them a weary smile. “Thanks for getting up early to do this, guys, I appreciate it. If there’s anything you need, literally anything, please don’t be scared to ask-”

“Um, Y/N?” Hoseok is looking at you like he’s been dying to say something for the past five minutes. You turn your attention to him and squint as you try to focus on what he’s saying. “I did a sweep of the apartment earlier-” That was concerning. You make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to do security sweeps anymore. “-and there’s only four bedrooms.”

You blink at him in confusion.

“There’s eight of us.”

Oh. Oh. You drag your hands down over your face. You hadn’t accounted for lack of space being an issue. When you first moved in, Oliver’s penthouse seemed like it went on forever. “Okay,” you start, crunching some quick numbers. “Some of us are gonna have to double up.” There’s a disgruntled mrow from the couch and without looking, you know it’s Jimin. “Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung are already sharing so they’re exempt, but Seokjin needs his own room- at least until he recovers.”

“That’s fine by me,” the stag chimes in. “But that leaves Jeongguk without a-”

“Hyung, can I stay with you?” The room goes quiet.

“Seokjin really needs his own room-” You pull your face out of your hands to address the rabbit hybrid, but he isn’t looking at the stag. His eyes are fixed on Namjoon who’s looking at him in a mix of confusion and alarm. The wolfdog looks from the rabbit to you.

“I saw a camp bed out in the greenhouse while you were showing us around last night.” He says, standing to go. “I’ll sleep out there.”

“Namjoon, you don’t have to sleep outside-”

“I like it out there.” He calls back over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “I can see the sky.” Then he’s gone and the six of you are left.

“Well,” Jimin purrs, rising and crossing the living room to you. “Best of luck.” He rubs his cheek against yours, folding you into a loose hug. You think he’s about to pull away, but he whispers in your ear, “If you want to share with us, you know where we sleep.” And then he’s gone, sauntering up the stairs with Taehyung and Yoongi in tow. The bobcat tosses a look at you, but you look away quickly, missing the way his ears sage when you do.

Now, the only ones left are you, Jeongguk, Hoseok and Seokjin who’s rapidly fading. “I’ll take the couch,” you volunteer. It wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but right now, the stark white cushions look like heaven to your sleep-deprived mind. “Seokjin can have my room-”

“He can have mine,” Hoseok interjects. “And, if it’s okay, could I stay with you?” There’s a light whine on the end of his words and you don’t miss the way his ears prick up in anticipation of your answer. “It’s what I wanted to ask you earlier.”

Oh. When Jimin interrupted him, that’s what he’d been trying to say: he wanted to sleep in your room to be closer to you. To protect you.

“Yeah,” you agree easily. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Sharing beds wasn’t a big deal for you. You’d grown up in a flat with your mom and had shared a bed with her til she’d been taken from you. Then in foster homes with too many kids and not enough resources, you’d had to double- and sometimes even triple- up. It was a matter of convenience and space.

Hoseok’s tail gives a little wag and he nods, happy with your decision.

“Great!” Seokjin cheers weakly. “Now can someone please help me lie down.”

It’s Hoseok that helps the stag hybrid up the stairs and into bed. He’s stronger than you and taller, so it only makes sense. You show Jeongguk to his new room and stay with him for a few minutes while he feels it out, making sure it’s safe. It’s only once he’s sequestered himself under the covers and dismissed you that you leave, closing the door quietly behind you as the rabbit hybrid settles down for some much needed sleep. You turn to head back for the stairs- but you find Yoongi at the other end of the corridor, staring you down. You stare back. He swallows.

“Can we talk?” He asks, his voice quieter than you ever remember hearing it.

You give a little nod. “Yeah,” you assent. “We need to.”

He meets you halfway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers and his gaze anywhere but on your face. The seconds stretch out and you exhale, closing your eyes. “Yoongi, about last night-”

“I’m sorry,” he interjects. “About what happened in the elevator. It was disrespectful and immature. I won’t do it again.”

You balk at him. You’d honestly expected him to tell you you were being childish for reacting so strongly to it when you’d told him he could mark you whenever he was ready. But he hadn’t. He shuffles back a few steps, his head still low.

“Well, that was all I wanted to say to you, so-”

“Do you understand?” You ask him. He stops short. “Do you understand why I was upset?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you see a little furrow between his gray eyebrows. “Because I marked you.”

“No,” you insist, emphatically. “I was upset because it didn’t feel like you were doing it for me.” He does look up at you then, yellow eyes unreadable. “It didn’t feel like you were marking me because we’re friends or you wanted me to be a part of your group. It felt like you were doing it to show off in front of Namjoon and Hoseok.” You swallow. “And that hurt my feelings.” It feels good to say. It feels good to talk about.

He lets out a little chirp of distress. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. “I just-” He rakes a hand back through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck, I just felt like if I didn’t do something right then you’d get bored of me and send me away. I thought you’d replace me with them.”

Your heart twists. You know the feeling more intimately than you’d like to admit. You reach out, hesitantly and squeeze Yoongi’s arm. “Yoongi, I’m not gonna send you away. Ever. It’s important to me that you know that. Unless you wanna go, you can stay. There’s room enough for all of you.”

“No there’s not, that’s why we’re sharing rooms,” he drawls.

You roll your eyes and let out a little chuckle. “Okay, smart-ass.”

The corner of his mouth curls up at the playful insult. After a moment, he speaks. “I don’t, for the record,” he says. “Wanna go, I mean.” He stares down into your face, yellow eyes intense. The seconds drag on and something between the two of you grows tight. He leans down, face nuzzling the soft spot between your ear and your jaw. He huffs. “Bunny scented you,” he mutters, tail flicking in annoyance, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re relieved.

“He was afraid in the car,” you answer softly. “I think it helped.” Your hands slip from his arms around his back and he purrs. It’s the first time you’ve heard him make that sound. It sends warm vibrations through your whole body and you giggle. Yoongi smiles against your skin and your heart leaps. He’s never smiled around you before. You can’t see it, but you can feel it. You know it’s there. “Do you want to try again?”

Yoongi exhales, his breath warm on your neck. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” you say, tilting your head to the side for him. “You can.”

This time is different, you can feel that from the onset. His fingers wrap gently around your hips and he nuzzles into your skin. He nips lightly at the skin below your ear, the corner of your jaw, all down the column of your neck until he reaches the spot where it joins your shoulder. He hums, wraps his arms around you fully and pulls you flush against the hard line of his body. Your breath hatches and you can practically hear your heart thudding traitorously in your chest.

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself as he laves his rough tongue against your feverish skin. It’s not a big deal; marking isn’t sexual. This isn’t a big deal, there’s no need to be nervous or get- the points of his teeth scrape over the mark before he laps at again and you have to bite back a whimper. Your knees feel a little weak- that is, until Yoongi slots his thigh between them, keeping you up while he finishes his work. Your hands ball up into fists in the fabric of his t shirt and you grit your teeth together with the effort of keeping quiet. He pulls off your neck with a wet pop and you swear you’re imagining it when he presses a final kiss to his mark. He noses your ear, still purring and you think he’s gonna mark you more- but then his warmth is gone and his standing before you, eyes a little hazier but no worse for wear.

He reaches up and flicks you in the forehead. You grumble at him, covering the spot up with your hands before he can do it again. A lazy smirk spreads out on his face. “Welcome to the family,” he drawls. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading back to his shared bedroom. “Don’t wipe this one off this time, okay?”

You nod mutely after him as he disappears, your hand cupping your mark. “What was that?” You wonder. You descend the stairs in a daze, your mind whirling. None of your research had told you creating a mark would be like that. You’d thought it was a quick thing and Yoongi had just been showboating for the canines. Even in the videos you watched, the hybrid had leaned in close to the human, given then a few quick swipes with their tongue and moved on. Then again, those hybrids had all been domesticated dog or cat breeds. “Are exotics different?” You muse, turning the handle to your bedroom- and promptly tripping over someone.

This time, you don’t go all the way down. You make it halfway before Hoseok catches you. “Ah, I’m sorry, Y/N!” The dog hybrid whines, fussing over you as he sets you back to rights. “I’ll do better about staying out of your way, I promise-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, trying to stop him from fretting. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” You survey the floor of your bedroom. It seemed like in his security sweep earlier, Hoseok had found the linen cabinet and made use of the spare blankets. His pillow and a comforter are set up in a little pallet on the floor in front of your door. It seems he’d been putting the final touches on it when you’d stumbled over him. “Hoseok…” you start slowly. The Doberman looks at you, ears pricked up. “Hoseok, I wasn’t expecting you to sleep on the floor.”

He cocks his head to the side, doglike even in his confusion. “Then where…?”

“The bed is big enough,” you say, gesturing to the queen sized bed dominating the center of the room. “I don’t mind sharing if you���re comfortable with it.”

His adam’s apple bob’s in his throat as he swallows, suddenly serious. “Yeah,” he says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m comfortable with it.”

You nod and pat him on the shoulder, passing him as you head to bed. “Come on, then.” You collapse onto your bed face-first and slip back under the covers with a groan. “I’m just gonna take a quick nap before I’ve gotta get up and deal with stuff…”

The room is quiet, but somewhere in it, you can hear Hoseok shuffling around. “Maybe I should check to make sure everything is safe one more time?”

You exhale, your eyes slipping shut. “Hoseok…”

“Did you lock the front door after you came in? I think the rabbit...Jeongguk was the last one in? I don’t remember him locking-”

“Hope, bed. Now.” He doesn’t say anything else, but a few seconds later, you feel the far side of the bed dip with his weight. You sigh as he shifts to get under the blankets and you snuggle down further into your pillow. “Sleep well, Hobi.”

He mumbles something under his breath about security being a serious issue, but you don’t catch it. You’re already halfway to dreamland.

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

You Make Me Feel So Young (Alcina x Older!Reader)

Part II Alcina’s golden eyes open slowly as the early morning sun shone through the curtains. She looks down at you, cradled against the curve of her body, your head tucked comfortably under her chin. She smiles to herself. This is the way the two of you have woken up every morning for decades, and yet Alcina can never seem to get tired of it.

You shift in her embrace as you wake, blinking your eyes slowly as they adjust to the morning light. Alcina holds her breath for a moment. Lately your memory had not been as clear as it once was and Alcina hoped, no she needed you to remember what day it was.

Alcina runs a hand through your thin graying hair. “Good morning, draga mea,” she says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You smile back at your wife. Even after all these years, the sight of Alcina waking up next to you never failed to take your breath away. Her face is clear of her makeup, her wrinkles that were usually hidden by her pale foundation made more prominent. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles at you, her laugh lines like little accent marks indenting her cheeks.

“Good morning, my love,” you say, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. “And also...happy anniversary.”

Tears begin to well up in Alcina’s eyes. “Darling, you remembered!” she says, swiftly kissing your cheek in her excitement.

“Yes!” you say as you hold her close, running a thumb along her shoulder. “The doctor said I would have some days of clarity, when I would be more lucid. I’m glad today is one of those days.”

“As am I,” Alcina said, wiping tears furiously from her eyes. She gives you a watery smile. “Well, shall I help you get ready?”

You nod and Alcina gets out of bed and heads over to your side in a flash. She holds out her hand to you and you take it, wobbling slightly as you try to find your balance. Your center of gravity isn’t as stable as it once was. Alcina’s hand is on your back holding you steady, however. You hold her hand as she gently guides you to the vanity.

She sets you in front of the vanity, takes out a silver-back brush and begins to brush out your hair. As Alcina brushes your hair, you look around at the pictures that you have placed at the edge of the mirror. There is one that Alcina had taken of you when you were first courting. The two of you had been on a picnic. It was a particularly windy day  and you were trying to brush the hair away from your eyes. You see your younger face break out in a sheepish grin as you realize that Alcina had taken that opportunity to capture the moment.

Another picture is of you and Alcina on your wedding day. The two of you are face to face holding one another’s hands. You are standing on the pedestal that Heisenberg had made himself so you could truly look into your wife’s aureate eyes as you made your vows. You can make out the glisten of joyful tears in Alcina’s eyes, her beautiful raven hair swept up into an elegant chignon.

Then there is the most recent picture of you and your family. Alcina is sitting in the chair and you stand behind her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on your cane, leaning against the chair for support. Bela and Cassandra had behaved remarkably well during the shoot, but Daniela couldn’t resist making the peace sign, much to Alcina’s chagrin.

“Looking at all these pictures of us really melts the years away, doesn’t it?’ you say, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

Alcina doesn’t smile back. Her brow is furrowed and her golden eyes look pensive. “Do you ever-” she begins to ask, but then she snaps her mouth shut as if thinking better of it.

You gently take the brush out of her hand, setting it on the vanity and turn to face her. “Do I ever what, darling?” you ask, kissing her knuckles.

“Do you ever...regret not taking the Cadou?”

You look at her, smiling sadly. “Dearest, we’ve been over this so many times.”

“I know, I know,” Alcina says impatiently. “But...have you?” Alcina begins to wring her hands nervously.

You take her hand and run circles over her wrist with your thumb as you collect your thoughts. “I know you would rather I did, but like I’ve told you before, I want to experience life in all its stages. All the good and the bad.”

“But your memory,” she says, her voice cracking. “It could fix your memory. Don’t you want that?”

“Of course I do,” you say gently. “But I also want my life to take its natural course. You can understand that, can't you?”

Alcina nods, tears falling on the top of her nightgown. You take your trembling hand and gently wipe her tears away from her cheeks with your handkerchief. “I understand,” she says, her voice thick. “I do, and I know I’m just being selfish. But I’m simply not ready to know a world without you in it. I don’t think I ever will be.”

You suddenly pull your wife in a hug, tucking your chin under her shoulder. “Let’s not worry about that today, darling,” you soothe, stroking her ebony hair. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have together, hmm?” You pull away, but hold her alabaster face in your hands. “Besides, it’s not often that 50th wedding anniversaries come around, do they?”

Alcina’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “It’s unbelievable,” she breathes. “It seems like almost yesterday.”

You run a finger along her cheekbone and she leans into your touch. “I still remember sitting at that table in the cabaret. I could hardly believe my shock when I realized that the gorgeous lounge singer was also my employer!”

Alcina’s eyes glitter with mischief. “Oh, but I knew who you were the whole time, pet,” she says, smirking.

“I know you did,” you laugh. “And to make matters worse you sang to me the whole time. I was practically another stage light with how much I was blushing!”

Alcina chuckled. “I couldn’t resist, especially when I saw how lovely you looked with all the color rushing to your face.” She takes your chin in her hand. “The way it looks right now.”

When you chance a look at your reflection in the mirror, you find your face is indeed as red as it was on that day over half a century ago. You are amazed that no matter how many years passed, Alcina still had the ability to make you feel like a young woman again.

Alcina brings your chin forward and briefly brushes her lips against yours. You press your lips to her cheeks, her laugh lines, her chin. “I love you,” you say, leaning your forehead against hers. “Always know that.”

“I love you, too,” Alcina presses a kiss to your brow before tucking her chin under your gray curls. “Happy Anniversary, draga mea.”

[bucksfucks]

  𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚 ; 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

summary┃steve has always had his eyes on you, yours on him. catching you on the beach he finally gets a taste of what he’s missing. 

pairing┃achilles!steve x f!reader

word count┃1,721 words

warnings┃beach sex, semi-public sex, a lot of nudity, oral, fingering, skinny dipping, soft smut, light degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

notes┃this is very loosely based off of the story of achilles, like...very loosely. the only similarity is the blonde hair and the fact that steve is a demi-god, other than that, it’s self-indulgent <3

     He isn’t really sure when he first saw her. 

    All he knows is that he can’t keep his eyes off of her as she wanders through the cobbled street.

    She’s dressed in a simple gown, slightly weathered with loose strands floating above her feet as she wanders through the bazar. There’s an airiness to her, light and free as he sees light emanating from her. 

    He’s perched on top of a thick tree branch that’s able to hold his weight. Legs swinging and hair blowing in the summer air as he crunches down on the last slice of his clementine. 

    He wonders if she’d be sweeter than the sweet juice coating his tongue. 

    “If you stare at her any longer you’ll burn holes through her skull,” he feels a nudge against his right shoulder, pushing him slightly forward as someone joins him on the large branch. 

    He ignores the remark, scoffing as the bitter peel falls from his hand and other the grass below where it would be hoarded by squirrels and chipmunks. 

    Bucky’s legs dangle with Steve’s, touching but not connected as he continues to admire the way she picks a few apples into her woven basket. 

    He pays no attention to Bucky, the sound of his voice outweighed by the thoughts of her. 

    “Steve?” It’s a question as he finally snaps out of his haze, “what’s gotten into you?” Bucky asks, a genuine sense of wonderment in his tone as the younger of the two sighs. 

    “I think I’ve been struck by cupid himself.” He says aloud and Bucky can’t help but roll his eyes, but the smirk displayed on his lips makes him happy, happy that Steve has finally taken a liking to anything other than the bronzed shield he wields. 

    “I hear she has no lover,” Bucky whispers cheekily, the words catching Steve by surprise as he feels his heart leap towards her. 

    “Who told you that?” Steve asks, bewildered, amused, and hungry for more information. Bucky just laughs, jumping from the branch effortlessly before craning his head up to look at the golden haired man.

    “You’ll have to find out for yourself.” 

~

    The waves crashed against the shore, sand growing damp as you dug your toes into it. The sun was slowly fading, but still just as hot as you closed your eyes and let the sunshine was over you. 

    The beach was always a safe space, providing you with recluse when you wanted time with the most important person; yourself. 

    The woven basket you carried, now filled with fresh fruit and a jug of water, sat half buried in the tan sand, acting as a weight on the rag you lay for when you emerged from the water. 

    Shedding your clothes, you made your way beneath the waves, relishing in the cool water against your skin as your mind wandered back to the bazar. You saw him, perched atop a tree, lounging with his bow and arrow across his toned chest and back as he ate the sweet clementines you’d been trying to find. 

    Everyone knew of Steve, but vert few knew Steve. 

    He wasn’t like you or anyone else you knew, part God as his walked with a high head and a glimmer in his eye that made him shine. 

    When you made your way back onto the beach you were tired, taking you time to re-dress as you dig into the basket, an apple in hand before you’re biting down on it. 

    It’s sweet, quelling your hunger just enough, but it doesn’t satisfy you. 

    “Apples are sweet, but the summer is the season for clementines.” A sweet voice rings out from behind you, turning around to be met with none other than Steve.

    He was barefoot, buried in the sand, his bow and arrow still slung across his back and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander across the vast expanse of his broad chest. 

    A smile stretches across your lips, tantalizing Steve as he takes a few steps closer until he’s at the edge of the rag you’re sat on. 

    “Perhaps I can entice you with one, instead?” He smirks, the orange fruit resting perfectly in the middle of his large hand as he sinks to his knees. You bite at your bottom lip, meeting his gaze. 

    “What is Steve, Son of Peleus doing talking to just a mere mortal?” You tease, craning your head slightly upward as Steve tosses the fruit upward, catching it with ease. 

    “Have you forgotten, my dear?” He muses, rolling the fruit towards you as you catch it in your own hand. “The sea is also my home, this is where I go when it calls me.” 

    His words are so soft, voice sweet like honey as it flows through the air and you feel the warm breeze surrounding you like a hug from Aeolus himself. You felt the familiar rush of butterflies you often felt when you thought about him, but here he was, in front of you with a beaming smile on his lips. 

    “Has it called you today?” You asked, a soft whisper and almost barely audible as he leans closer, “the sea amongst other things are calling me.” 

    Your heart is racing in your chest, he smells like lavender, almonds, and earth as he pulls back. He’s quick on his feet, marvelling at the muscles and strength he posses as he strips of the rest of his clothes. 

    It’s not hard to believe that he is part God, Adonis himself having competition as he flicks his eyes up at you. 

    “Join me,” he says gently, outstretching his hand before you’re stripping once again, clothes in a pile with his as you take his hand, submerging beneath the water. 

    He clearly belongs in the water, waves calming around him as he wraps his strong arms around you to bring you close to his warm body. You’re lost in the blue of his eyes, like the sky met the sea and you never want to look away. 

    “I have been dreaming of the day I can get my hands on you,” he admits faintly, your breath hitching in your throat as you can’t resist the urge to smile. 

    “The day that my lips get to meet yours,” your heart is now tumbling, core aching as you feel him stiffen against you. 

    “The day that I get to taste you.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes, mischievous, playful, and yearning as you tangle your fingers in the hair that rests at the nape of his neck. 

    Steve wastes no time in wrapping your legs around his waist before his lips are on yours, hungry and passionate as he steals the breath from your lungs until you’re dizzy. 

    Water sloshes around your bodies, breaths hot and heavy as wandering hands squeeze at your flesh and curves, Steve memorizing the way you feel. 

    Your eyes are closed, lips still on his as he carries you both onto the beach and onto the warm cloth lining the sand, gently setting you down. You take a moment to admire the way his wet hair hangs in front of you eyes, pieces of it seemingly glued down to his forehead. 

    “You are breathtaking, practically Aphrodite herself,” he mumbles against your neck, lips passing by your collarbone before he’s peeling the sweet fruit in front of your eyes. 

    “Open,” the command is gentle as you do so, parting your lips to welcome the fruit slice. You moan at the taste, relishing in the sweetness of it before Steve is running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

    His lips seal yours once again, body heavy on top of yours as you feel the weight of his cock between your thighs. It swells when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

    “Mmm, so sweet, my dear,” he mumbles against your mouth, “but I can think of something sweeter.” He purrs, nose running between your breasts until he’s situated right above your hair decorated mound. 

    “Oh,” you gasp when he throws your legs over his broad shoulders, the sun just barely peeking over the horizon as Steve laps at your folds. 

    You’ve never experienced pleasure like this, every part of your body feeling as if it’s on fire as he groans against you, “so sweet.” He praises your legs beginning to tighten around his head. 

    “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he pants, emerging with wet lips as his fingers are still focused on you. You can’t keep your eyes open, back arching as you lose yourself to the pleasure; waves crashing in the background. 

    “I need to feel you, sweet. Feel all of you.” He whispers, low and raspy as he holds himself over you on his forearms. He smells like you, tastes like the sweet orange juice, and you’re hypnotized. 

    “Steve,” you can only croak out his name before he’s filling you. 

    He’s thick and it stretches you like no other as his low groans and grunts fill your ears. 

    “Feel so fuckin’ good,” the curse causes you to clench around him as he smirks. 

    “My sweet, sweet, sweet girl.” His voice is much lower this time around, tone slightly condescending as his hips rock against yours. 

    “Here I thought you were innocent,” he smirks, “but the sounds you’re makin’, oh they are anythin’ but innocent my filthy little girl.” 

    Steve’s words, combined with his deep thrusts have you digging your nails into his lightly tanned back, crescent shaped indents the only reminder of you.

    “Be mine,” he gasps, your eyes shooting open as those words leave his mouth. His lips are wet and parted, ragged breaths leaving them as he trains his eyes on you. 

    “Be mine and I will show you the world,” he promises as his hips stutter inside of you. You nod your head, “yes, yes!” 

    Your words are a double edged sword, a promise and a plea as you feel the white hot pleasure seeping through your bones for the second time that night as your name leaves through his mouth. 

    By the time you open your eyes next the waves have calmed and the moon is now showing her face, stars littering the sky as Steve’s eyes are a muted cerulean shade.  

    “You are my Clementine, sweet like the summer breeze.” 

[windwheeler-aster]

can i hold that for you?

summary: your favorite person, kujou sara, has invited you to join her on a patrol through the east side of narukami island. as you two take a quiet strol, you see the perfect opportunity to make a move. 

masterlist | advent calender

pairing: sara x reader

reader info: gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is not traveler

word count: 669 (nice) words

genre: romance, secret romance

format: headcanons and blurb

warnings: none

a/n: ahhhh she’s so pretty💖 god im so glad i accidentally got her, she’s so fun💖 beautiful burb

sara has always been someone you have admired

from her skills, talents, and intelligence, to her grace and beauty, you have secretly loved every part of kujou sara

you two have hardly spoken, as you’re only a medic in the tenryou commission. the best of the best, actually, but that’s not important

and she’s kujou sara, leading the battles on the front lines and continuing the vision hunt degree

she’s been in your tent plenty of times, usually just for a quick patch up before leaving once again

there was this one time where she caught you staring from your medical tent

but you tend to only think about that embarrassing time when it’s too late at night to not be sleeping

or when you’re bored in your medical tent, spacing out as you organise your things

when you zone out and not realize that the object of your affection is trying to get your attention

“Excuse me, er, medic,” Sara’s voice beckons in a hesitant tone, “could you accompany me on my border patrol?”

You startle, not expecting her to be here. 

“Medic?”

“Right, sorry, was just busy thinking,” you lie, turning around to face her. “Yes, I can do that.”

Sara’s lips, which you hadn’t meant to glance at, twitched upwards before she forced it back down into a line. She turned on her heel, not really waiting for you to catch up. Without looking, you grabbed one of the spare med bags and followed after Sara.

She only stopped when you left the entrance to the camp. Once you catch up, she resumed her fast pace, causing you to quickly match her pace. For the majority of the time that Sara led you, you were busy focusing on your pace rather than where she was taking you. 

But you recognized Chinju Forest once you walked into it. The forest was hard not to notice, with it’s glowing blue plants. In fact, your vision almost had a blue tint to it with how prominent the color was in this place. 

Sara let out a shiver, taking your attention from the environment to her. Your eyes meet her yellow eyes, and you notice how she straightens her posture under your gaze.

“Are you cold?” You ask. “I think there’s some emergency blankets in this medical kit, if you want them.”

Sara shook her head. “It’s quite alright, this forest is just little eerie.”

“Really? I find it quite beautiful,” You slip your gaze from her back to the path in front of you. “But now that you mention it...”

She chuckles. “Right? I hate going here alone, honestly.”

“Is that why you asked for me to join you?”

“Partially. I also wanted a good healer by my side,” Sara replied. “And some other reasons as well.”

You felt your heart flutter and cursed your mind for reacting at the simple compliment. “Thank you, I take great pride knowing that I can be reliable to you.”

Just as Sara is about to respond, a breeze of chilly wind comes through the two of you. It rustled the leaves that remained of the trees, and made the both of you shiver.

Sara cursed. “It’s so cold, I feel like my hands are going to freeze off any moment.” She looked at them. “Even with the gloves on.”

“Could I hold them?” You blurt aloud. “I would hate for our best archer to lose her hands.” 

Sara froze. “Your best archer?” 

“Yes, now,” You eyed her hands. “May I please hold your hand?”

The blush on Sara’s face deepened in color, but she did give you her hand. It was almost like your hand was made to complement her’s. The curves in her palm were perfect for the indents in your’s. You smiled and looked up at Sara.

“Please don’t tell anybody,” Sara whispered, “I can’t even imagine what the others would say about this.”

“Because they’d be jealous? Or you’d be embarrassed?”

Sara smiles. “Because they’d be jealous, of course.”

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[doubleleoenergy]

So Pretty

Slurp her like a smoothie, swallow don’t spit that. Ay, kitty kat, Ms. Pussycat. You been a bad kitty, I’ma spank that.

Pairing: nomad!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, age gap kink (Reader is 18), spanking, oral (male & female receiving), daddy kink, rough sex, dirty talk

Words: 2082

Summary: You bootycall Steve when your parents are out of town and things get wild.

Notes: This is my submission for @sableseb​’s 1.5K Lyric Challenge Celebration. The lyric I chose was “You been a bad kitty, Imma spank that” - So Pretty by Reyanna Maria ft Tyga. Also I apologize for this, I am a whore for nomad!Steve and all his deepest darkest fantasies.

It was almost 1:30am and y/n couldn’t sleep, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram to pass the time. Her parents had left on an early flight that morning to Cancun for their special twentieth anniversary celebration, leaving y/n at home alone for the entire weekend. 

She didn’t mind being by herself in her family’s estate, she preferred it, but there was an itch she hadn’t quite been able to scratch all day. And by itch that meant her insatiable horniness. Ever since her sexual awakening earlier that year all she could think about was sex. And luckily, her virginity had been taken by none other than Captain fucking America himself. Well, he didn’t really go by that anymore, given the events that had unfolded with the Sokovia Accords. At this point he was just Steve, laying low to ensure that no one would find out his location.

They had met completely by accident at a dingy bar downtown. One of y/n’s best friends had heard from her older sister how the bartenders there were never able to tell the difference between real and fake IDs, and so that’s how y/n ended up at the bar that night. 

She had turned eighteen that summer and had just started her first year at college, the two wanting to celebrate with a few drinks. Y/N had just ordered her first mojito of the evening when she saw him. He was sitting a few seats down from her on the padded bar stool, nursing the beer in front of him. When he heard the girls approach, their smiles flashing brightly as they handed over their fakes to the clueless bartender, Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Y/N’s friend had gone to the bathroom, leaving y/n alone to wait for her drinks at the bar.

“You’re not that great an actress.” Steve commented, his stare trained on y/n.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, furrowing her brows at him, pretending as if he was talking in a language she didn’t quite understand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve slid his beer two seats down, moving so he was now sitting right beside her. He can smell the remnants of her spearmint gum on her lips. He leans into her ear, his voice lowering an octave.

“You’re not 21, you’re barely eighteen. I can practically smell your virgin pussy from here.”

And not long after that comment her dress was crumpled around her waist as she was getting railed in the bathroom sink of the men’s room. Her virginity was taken by a man she barely knew, and he took pleasure in every second of making her his personal fuck-toy.

Just the thought of their first encounter had her pussy throbbing, her finger clicking on the message app on her phone with a cheeky smile on her face.

Y/N: Come over, my parents are out of town 😘

Daddy 💋: What are you offering? 👀

Y/N: My kitty needs your attention 🐱

Daddy: Unlock the front door, be ready in 20

Y/N smiled at his text, her stomach flip flopping as she rushed downstairs to unlock the door, running quickly back up them and into her closet to find something more appropriate to wear. She had just been relaxing all day at home, donning a pair of black sweats and an old band tee. Running her fingers along the fabrics in her closet, she finally decided on her lacy black bodysuit that hugged her curves and pulled her tits in tight against her chest.

She knew exactly how he liked her when he came to visit: face down, ass up, and back arched, revealing her pretty kitty for him. Y/N got into position, hearing the click of the door opening and shutting five minutes later, his loud footsteps echoing up the stairs. Her pussy tightened as she heard his steps headed down the hallway towards her room, her heart racing in anticipation.

“There’s my pretty girl.” Steve’s eyes enveloped the sight of her ready for him, the lace accentuating her body perfectly. “And I see you remembered to listen to orders, that’s a good girl.”

He walked achingly slow towards the bed, crouching down behind her to examine her glistening folds. Steve swiped a finger against them, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “God you’re so fucking wet, have you been like this all day? Couldn’t wait another minute so you had to text me late at night? Wanted to be stuffed with my fat cock before you go to sleep?” The words turn her on even further, bucking her ass back towards him to receive some form of friction.

“Now, now, pretty girl. You know how this works, use your words.” Y/N mewled on the bed, her eyes fluttering as she wiggled her ass back and forth for him. “Please daddy, want you to play with my pussy.” Steve’s chest swells with pride at her words, his cock already hard as a rock in his jeans. He moves his two pointer fingers, one on each side of her folds, spreading them apart to inspect her tight heat even further.

“So pretty, baby. Your pussy is just begging to be played with. Gonna eat you out real nice before you get fucked on daddy’s cock.” He leans closer to her cunt, licking a strip from her clit to her asshole, groaning at how her pussy juices taste on his tongue. He holds her pussy open further, spitting directly into her hole before diving his tongue in to lick inside of her. Y/N is letting out pornographic moans as his tongue swirls inside of her, her head lulling to the side against the bed.

“You taste delicious, be a good girl for me and push back on my tongue, want you to ride my face before daddy abuses your cunt with his cock.” He barely gets a chance to breathe before he’s diving back in, his thick beard getting soaked with her juices as she pushes her pussy back into his face, sitting back on it and fucking herself onto his tongue. The hair of his beard is tickling her clit which each thrust back, the familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her stomach.

“Fuck, daddy, feels so good, can I cum please?” Steve shakes his head against her, giving her a non-verbal okay as she spasms on his tongue, his big hands gripping her ass and holding her steady on his mouth, lapping up all the sweetness she had to offer. Y/N slowly comes back down from her high, panting as Steve pulls his head back from her, his beard coated in her slick.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He moves to stand behind her ass, throwing off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them and his boxers, his cock springing free against his chest. He strokes it languidly, his hand coming up and slapping against her bare ass-cheek, a soft cry leaving y/n’s lips from the sting.

“Turn around, be a good girl and get daddy’s cock nice and wet for your tight cunt.” Steve purrs, watching as y/n turns around to face him on her hands and knees, waiting at the edge of the bed and instinctively opening her mouth. Steve steps closer, rubbing his cock against her mouth, precum smearing on her bottom lip before he slowly pushes inside her mouth.

His hands move to grab onto her hair, holding his fistfuls up like the reigns on a horse, the perfect grips as he slides all the way inside, bottoming out at the back of her throat and watching as she gags trying to hold him there.

“C’mon, baby, I know you can take it.” Steve states, pulling his hips back so that his cock is on the edge of her bottom lip before slamming back in again, cutting off y/n’s air supply. He continues his movements back and forth, tears flowing from y/n’s eyes as she tries to relax her throat for him. One move forward has her choking hard, pulling off of him with a sputter, saliva running down her chin to her chest. She coughed a few times, Steve’s eyes growing dark as he tugs a fistful of her hair, making him look up at her.

“Did I say you could pull off my cock?” He asked, his erection bouncing in front of her face. Y/N shook her head, eyes wide and her mascara smeared from her tears. 

“N-No daddy.” Y/N stammered, her pussy clenching. “It was too deep daddy; I couldn’t take it.”

Steve’s face flashed fake sadness, his fingers trailing over the skin of her ass.

“You’ve been a bad kitty, I’ma spank that.” His hand moves off her and returns fiercely, popping her hard on her ass, y/n twitching from the contact. He spanks her one, two, three times before his hand rubs against her skin, watching the red indents from his fingers appearing on her skin.

“Now, do you think you can be a good girl for daddy again?” Y/N sniffles, wiping some of the tears that are streaming down her face, nodding her head eagerly.

“Yes daddy, just want to be your good girl.” She choked out, batting her long eyelashes at him. Steve walks over to the side of the bed, moving to rest his back against the headboard, sitting up with his cock in his hand. “Well then, come ride daddy’s cock and show me just how good you can be.”

Y/N turns around on the bed, crawling until she’s hovering over Steve’s thighs, lining up his cock with folds and swallowing down a lump in her throat. She slowly seats herself with his cock inside her, waiting as she adjusted to each inch before continuing to push down until she felt her thighs touch his chest. His big hands instinctively grab at her hips, holding her up as she starts to bounce on his cock.

His eyes stay glued to her chest as her tits bounce in the black lace, her nipples hardened against the fabric there. She’s moving up and down, her face completely fucked out in bliss, moans escaping with each push down onto his cock. 

“Daddy, please can I cum? Please!” She whines, her pussy leaking. His hands roughly pull her hips to him, a satisfied smile spreading on his face as she’s coming undone above him.

“Yes baby, cum on my cock, make a mess for daddy.” Y/N bounces down one more time before she stills, her walls milking his cock as she cums for a second time.

“God, you’re still so tight, you’d think that with all the abuse I give to your cunt that you wouldn’t be. You feel just like you did the day I took your virginity.” Her body lulls above him and Steve moves to push her back against the bed, pulling his cock out before slamming it back into her, holding her up by the back of her neck.

“You’re so fucked out, aren’t you? You came twice already; think you can give me a third?” Y/N mumbles something, her eyes blinking as stars form in her vision again, cumming for the third time with his cock deep inside of her. 

“That’s a good girl, look at you going all stupid on my cock. Haven’t let anyone else fuck this pussy since you met daddy, huh? I’m the one who owns your dumb holes.” Y/N whines below him, her body dragging back against the comforter with each of his thrusts.

“You like that idea, don’t you baby? Owning you and never letting another man touch you, ruining your holes forever.” He quickened his pace inside of her, his orgasm building. “Bet you’d let me stick my fat cock in your ass too, watch your dumb baby brain switch off when I fill your ass full of my cum.” Steve shakes her head gently for her to make eye contact with him, holding her stare as his breathing becomes ragged.

“Gonna fill up this pussy baby.” He announces, his hips stuttering to a halt as he paints her walls with his cum, letting his cum completely unload inside of her before pulling out slowly, watching as his cum and hers starts to leak out of her pussy onto the bed.

Steve leans over the bed and tosses his shirt at her, a devilish smile on his lips. “Clean up your mess, I’m not done with you tonight.”

 Tagging those who may be interested: @serendipityrogers, @fuckandfluff, @blackwiddows​, @my-divine-death​ @turtoix

[for-fucks-sake-h]

At My Weakest - two

rated: m, mature | word count: 4.2k | story page  

“I wanna taste you again. Like a secret or a sin.”

  - Matthew Perryman Jones 

When Gianna stirred awake, she wasn’t surprised to find Harry laying beside her. What she was surprised about though was the absolute softness of his face. 

The lines of his cheekbone and jaw were still sharp, but his skin was completely smooth. The usual indent between his brows was nonexistent, and his hair was a beautiful curly mess. She found herself reaching out to smooth some stray curls back behind his ear, her fingertips just barely brushing his soft skin. 

He didn’t disappoint once he got her in his bed. Turns out his smug, cocky demeanor could be backed up, and backed up well. He wasn’t short on foreplay, he didn’t rush into it. If anything, he drew out the string of anticipation so ridiculously thin it snapped; until they were all hands and mouths and moans and pleasure. 

It was good. It was fun. It was a much needed distraction.

But it looked different in the daylight. 

What was passionate gasps and needy hands in the dimmed moonlight, was just a sloppy rebound fuck with a friend in the early morning daylight. 

Gianna was careful to slip out of bed, nakedly grabbing her borrowed sweater from the floor before tiptoeing to his bathroom. And when she returned, she was met with green eyes and tousled hair. 

“Thought you left.” His voice was even deeper than usual, the early morning rasp doing nothing to quell Gianna’s increasingly warming skin. “Didn’t think you were a hit and run kinda person.” 

Gianna breathed a soft laugh as she made her way over to him in just her sweater.

“No, but I should probably get my ass on the couch before your sister wakes up.” 

“Y’know she sleeps like the dead.” He watched her as he fiddled with the corner of his duvet, eyes tracing the curve of her hip where the sweater ended against her caramel skin. “Could give you one more before you go.”  

The lightness of his eyes looked iridescent in the morning light, especially in comparison to the blown out brown of Gianna’s staring back at him.  

He sat up just then, the dark emerald sheet slipping down his chest to rest casually across his bare hips. He was a sight with his unruly hair falling over his collar bones and his toned chest and stomach on full display. 

“In fact,” he started as he scooted down the bed until he was right in front of her, his feet meeting the ground as he pulled her closer between his thighs, “was thinking we could do this whenever you want.” 

Gianna’s hands found his bare shoulders, his skin still incredibly warm from sleep and as soft as it looked. 

“Is this my sweater?” Harry asked suddenly as he looked down to where he played with the knitted fabric at her hips, his hands slowly splaying out on Gianna’s bare thighs.  

“Gemma gave it to me last night,” she responded softly.  

“Hm. Anyway… could be a perfect fit for both of us,” Harry murmured, his head tilted up towards Gianna’s, his lips inches from hers. The innuendo was embedded in his tone and the look on his face, and even more blatantly obvious when the most subtle indent of a dimple teased its way onto his cheek.  

It would be too easy for Gianna to take him up on the offer, crawl back into bed with him and let him bring her over the edge as many times as he wanted; as many times as she wanted. But for as sexy and generous as he’d been, she knew it wasn’t the best idea and something she shouldn’t get used to.  

Gianna sighed with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder blade. “H…” 

“G,” Harry rebutted in a playful tone. 

“Probably not a good idea.”  

“I beg to differ. Think it’s a great idea. My best idea yet.”  

“Last night was fun,” Gianna offered gently. “I just don’t think we should make a habit out of it. I have a lot going on and I don’t want to drag you—”

“—Hey, say no more.”  

If Harry’s ego was bruised from the rejection, he didn’t show it.  

Instead, he pushed himself up from the bed as she took a step back, the sheet knowingly falling away from his body as he stood before her at his full height. They were nearly chest to chest, and it took everything inside Gianna to ignore the way her nipples pebbled beneath the soft fabric of her sweater.  

“The offer’s available if you ever want it.”  His lips curled around every word, only making his offer even more overwhelmingly enticing.   

He didn’t wait for a response. Instead, his chest brushed against her arm as he carelessly moved around her to head to the bathroom, completely naked, every inch of his body on display.  

If he felt Gianna’s eyes on him, he didn’t show it.   

A fresh steam of her reworn silk skirt and sheer button down blouse later, and the party was in full swing, guests arriving one after another to her parents home.  

Gianna was lucky to have arrived when she did, the distraction of guests doing her every favor to hold off the inevitable questions from her family. A quick comment that Steve was held up at work was as far into it as she could get before her mother was whisked away by one thing or another. Gianna wasn’t so worried about the lie as she was her delivery of said lie. 

The end of her relationship was the last thing she felt like discussing at her fathers 50th birthday celebration.  

The one thing she didn’t anticipate was the possibility of Steve showing up.  

She saw him as soon as he walked through the front door, his polo shirt and perfectly styled hair immediately catching her eye.  His eyes scanned the room in search of her, and it felt like her heart could literally drop out of her ass.  

Gianna excused herself from her fathers colleagues before making her way toward him, her blood boiling as her heart pounded in her chest.  

“What are you doing here?” She whispered harshly as she pulled him aside, eyes ablaze as she looked at him.  

“You haven’t been answering your phone.”  His response was so casual for someone who blew up their life together without a second thought.  

“Yeah you lost that privilege yesterday, Steve.”  

“Gianna, please. Let’s just talk about this.”  

“You need to leave.”  

“Gianna—”

“Y’alright?”  Gianna turned to look up at the sound of the intruder's voice, her eyes meeting Harry’s expressionless face immediately.  

Gianna was quick to reel in her emotions as well, instead smiling and greeting Harry and Gemma and their parents.  

“Hi guys! Yeah, yeah, all good. Steve was just leaving,” Gianna continued to smile despite the confused look on Harry and Gemma’s parents faces. “He’s gotta work.” 

Steve huffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”  

“Let’s go find Lisa!” Gemma suggested to her parents with a gentle guide on both of their backs.   

“Oh, she’s in the kitchen.” Gianna pointed in the direction of her mother and released a sigh when they headed that way.  

Gianna turned back to Steve the moment they were out of earshot. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”  

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Harry was quick to interject. “Think she told you to go.”  

Gianna watched the anger wash over Steve’s face as he turned to Harry.

“Shouldn’t take me telling you for you to listen,” Harry added with a disapproving shake of his head.

That confidence Harry exuded? Yeah, it came in handy in a wide array of situations.  

“Don’t make me kick you out of here,” Gianna told Steve. “I don’t want to cause a scene and embarrass my mum but I will if I have to.”  

Harry took the most subtle step closer. He really only sort of shifted his weight towards Gianna more, barely enough to even notice, but judging by Steve’s disgruntled face, he noticed.  

Gianna noticed too.  

“We’re going to talk about this later.”  Just the sound of Steve’s voice made Gianna’s heart plummet. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but it was. 

She watched him turn around with an exasperated huff, a withheld breath escaping her when he disappeared through the front door.  

“Y’okay?”  

Gianna momentarily forgot Harry was still standing beside her.  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Gonna go hide for a bit and collect myself.”  

She didn’t wait for his response before she disappeared upstairs with tears welling in her eyes.  

Who did Steve think he was?  Just showing up at her parents home as if nothing happened? Something did happen. A lot of shit happened.  Many words were exchanged and the way Gianna left their home and didn’t look back said even more then her frustrated, broken words.  

Gianna didn’t know how long she hid in her childhood bathroom, but apparently it was long enough for someone to come looking for her when she heard the softest tap on the door.  

She wasn’t crying, that was a plus. So she braced herself for her mother to be undoubtedly on the other side of the door, but opened it slowly to find none other than Harry leaned up against the doorframe, his face closer than she would have expected.  

His chin was pointed down towards his chest, leaving him to look up at her through his lashes with his eyebrows raised high and the lines across his forehead even more prominent.  

“Just checking on you. Y’don’t have to come out yet if you don’t wanna.”  

Gianna leaned against the wall so that she was standing parallel to him, her body lining up perfectly with his, both of their arms crossed over their chests, the door to the bathroom propped open just enough for them to see each other.  

“Is my mum looking for me?”  

He pursed his lips with regret. “I did hear her say your name a little bit ago.”  

Gianna released a deep sigh as she let her eyes fall closed. “I can’t believe he just showed up here.”  

“Do you know what he wanted?”  

Gianna scoffed. “No clue, probably to torture me some more. As if yesterday wasn’t enough.”  

“He’s got some nerve,” Harry shook his head in disbelief. 

Gianna exhaled again. “I don’t even wanna be here and now I gotta go put a show on for everyone and pretend like everything’s fine.” 

Harry gave her a small, understanding smile. “Want me to go fall down the stairs as a distraction?” 

The tiniest shiver rolled down his spine when she smiled with a shake of her head. 

“I’ll just dive head first. They’ll be so distracted with my broken collar bone that you can sneak out the back,” he added with a completely straight face, intently fighting the twitch at the corner of his mouth. 

Gianna laughed softly as she pushed her elbow against his. “What if you mess up your face? I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re right. Never mind scratch that idea,” Harry replied quickly, the smile forming across his face regardless of his efforts. 

Gianna’s face softened after a moment, and Harry couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure her body moved a half an inch closer to his. 

“Thanks for stepping in with him,” she said sincerely, her big brown eyes steady on his. 

Harry swallowed discreetly, licking his lips in a force of habit. “Anytime,” he murmured, his eyes flicking across her face. 

“You didn’t have to,” Gianna replied mindlessly, her eyes falling across his face. 

“Know I didn’t.” Harry’s voice was soft, because as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he felt like his skin was on fire. 

She was so close. Her perfume invaded his senses the same way it did on the roof, it had seeped into his sheets and lingered on his skin that morning. It was all he could focus on, subconsciously pulling him closer to her. 

Although, maybe not totally subconscious at all. He knew he wanted her. He knew that after one night with her, that he wanted her again, as many times as she’d give herself to him.   

He could tell she wanted to kiss him. Fuck, he was willing her to just do it. It was like every fiber of his being was screaming for her to just connect their mouths, get lost in each other again. But he could tell she was having some sort of internal battle that held her back. 

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly, eyes peering into hers. 

She blinked back at him, the soft furrow of her brows somehow making her more attractive. He watched her mouth open and close, trying to find the words. 

“Tell me,” he murmured. 

He could feel her breath just barely brushing his lips as his eyes pulled down to the curve of her Cupid’s bow first, then the curve of her chest, before traveling the same path back again, ready to dive back into the deep brown of her eyes. 

They were cast down, the curl of her lashes on display instead, and at first Harry assumed in shame or disinterest. But they burned against his own mouth, as she took account of every curve of his lips. 

“G...” he tried once more, hoping that the movement of his lips spurred her on. 

She was about to say something, Harry could see it on every inch of her face, but then there were footsteps entering the room and the sound of her name being called that Gianna snapped back, pulling away from him so quickly that it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. 

“Oh there you are,” Gemma said, relieved. “Your mum's going to go searching for you any minute, wanted to find you first.”

“Yeah, same,” Harry nodded as he tried to casually run a hand through the top of his hair and gently tuck a stray piece behind his ear. Only it didn’t feel casual at all, the only thing he felt was fidgety. “I’ll go distract her,” he added as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and turned to leave. 

The truth was, he felt like he couldn’t breath and he wasn’t even quite sure why. Gianna was hard to read, she was really good at bottling things up which left him completely unsure where he stood. She told him she wasn’t interested, and he understood why. Things could get complicated and that was the last thing she needed in her life at the moment. But then she looked at him like that, and her eyes - reluctant but burning into his skin - said something completely different. 

He wasn’t going to push her, though.  She needed a friend and that was what he was going to be to her.  So he went to Lisa’s side and talked her ear off about a recent show he had watched on Discovery, and watched with a small smirk as Gianna’s mum pretended to be interested.  

Luckily, the rest of the party went on as normal. And even more so, Gianna and Harry didn’t have a moment alone together until the goodbyes. There was the slightest bit of hesitancy when they went to leave a kiss on each other's cheeks, something they and their families always did when parting ways.  

It was a blip of a moment really, but it was enough to have chills running across Gianna’s skin just from the barely there scruff of Harry’s cheek brushing hers. He gave a small, but reassuring smile when he pulled away, a soft squeeze of her arm just before he followed Gemma out the door. 

It was insane, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him the rest of the night. While she helped her parents clean up, while they talked her ear off about their upcoming travel plans, while she finally peeled herself away from them at nearly midnight, while she drove back to Gemma and Harry’s place, while she tiptoed inside and locked up behind her. 

“Hey,” Gemma called from where she was curled up on the couch in front of the tv. “Rest of the night go okay?” 

“Oh, yeah. The usual really.” Gianna sighed as she slipped her studded heels off, her limbs feeling heavy from the long day. 

“I’ll be out of your bedroom in a mo, this is almost over,” Gemma said half heartedly, eyes still trained on the tv. 

Gianna didn’t bother with a response, but instead wandered down the hallway to Gemma’s room to steal some clothes. She couldn’t help but glance at Harry’s bedroom door, the light peeking through the bottom like a temptation. 

She wondered what he was doing in there as she changed, if he heard her come in, if he could sense her in the proximity somehow.  Her fingertips prickled with curiosity and her mind tiptoed along the ledge of “what if” and “maybe” and “why not”.  

He offered.  All she had to do was accept.  

When she stepped out of Gemma’s room with an oversized white tee shirt and minty fresh teeth, she immediately noticed that Harry’s light was no longer illuminating the edges of his door, the room seemingly pitch black.  

Maybe that was a sign from the universe or something.  Maybe, she thought, she should just quit while she’s ahead.  

Her makeshift bed was all ready for her in the living room, Gemma having neatly arranged blankets and pillows on the couch where she was previously sitting.  That was one thing about both of the Style’s siblings, they never made you feel unwelcome. 

“Alright love, let me know if you need anything,” Gemma spoke as she placed her empty tea cup in the sink.  

“Thanks, Gems. Seriously. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Gemma smiled warmly as she walked over, wrapping Gianna in a quick hug before heading for the hallway.  

“Oh,” she turned around quickly, “Harry spoke to Steve after we left.”  

Gianna’s heart stopped, bracing herself for whatever transpired between them.  “How bad was it?”  

“Eh,” Gemma shrugged, chuckling lightly as she continued. “Harry yelled a lot, but he’ll be gone for a few hours tomorrow morning so you can go get your stuff. We’ll go with you to help.”  

Gianna released a heavy sigh, overwhelmed with her friend's generosity. “You guys don’t have to do that.”  

“Too bad because we are,” Gemma quickly replied. “Harry told Steve he was coming with you anyway, just in case he decides to try anything like what went on today. Plus, the more hands means the faster you can get out of there.”  

Gianna gave her a pouty smile.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gemma laughed. “You would do the same for me.” 

“I would,” she agreed.  

“Besides, Harry’s the one that made it happen. He just told me the plan before he went to bed.”  Gemma smoothed down the baby hairs sticking up at the front of Gianna’s hairline, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “I love you, get some sleep.”  

Gianna didn’t know what she did to deserve a friend like Gemma, but she was grateful every single day for whatever cosmic blip happened in the universe to force them together. 

“Love you,” Gianna murmured as she watched Gemma head for her room, finding herself standing completely still as she watched her bedroom door close softly at the end of the hall.  

And then she was left in silence with nothing but her thoughts. Which if anyone could hear inside her brain, they’d know they were anything but silent.  

She went to plop down on the couch, letting out a long, deep sigh as she sunk into the cushions.  

Harry didn’t need to put his neck out like that, but he did. His exact reasoning, Gianna wasn’t sure. But he appeared beside her at that party like it was second nature. He took it upon himself to find a way for her to safely get her things from her former home, and she was grateful. He was a good friend. She knew that already, but it was even more prominent now.  

She thought starting something with Harry would be harder on her than not. She thought she didn’t need the added stress.  But he never showed any indication that he would make anything stressful for her. If anything, the only thing he showed was the opposite.  

A distraction, an escape, a good time.   

That was all she needed right now.  And in a way, that was exactly what Harry was offering.  

So she pulled herself up from the couch with purpose, and padded down the hall to the door on the right with her heart beating wildly in her chest.  Her fingers brushed along the grain of wood, a last chance effort to back away with none the wiser.  

But she didn’t want to.  As ridiculous as it seemed, Harry made her feel something that she desperately needed at the moment.  

So she jumped.  

It was the softest tap, her knuckle meeting the wood so lightly she was positive he wouldn’t even hear it.  Her breath was shaky as she did it again, this time the tiniest bit harder, more sure.  

There was no sign of movement behind the door.  She waited with baited breath, tapping her knuckles a third time, squeezing her eyes closed, begging for Gemma not to hear.  

But nothing.  No sound, no movement, no Harry.  

Maybe he had snuck out at some point, while she was changing perhaps.  Or maybe he had decided she was right after all, that this - she - was too complicated for him right now.  

She drew one last small pattern on the door, her temple pressed against the framing before she dropped her hand and pulled away.  

And then in a moment of pure heart stopping relief, the door swung open and a large hand wrapped around her forearm, tugging her inside the dark room so quickly she felt lightheaded.  

Her back was pressed up against the wall beside the door as Harry eased it closed quietly.  Gianna caught her breath, her chest rising and falling sharply as she took him in.  He was in nothing but boxer briefs sitting low on his hips, his hair pulled up in a bun, his skin reflecting against the light of the muted tv in the corner of his room.  His bed was unmade, the spot he was previously occupying obvious, what with blankets thrown to the one corner and pillows propped up against the center of the headboard.  

Harry was looking at her expectantly when she turned her face back to him, but he didn’t say anything, eyes simply scanning the features of Gianna’s face.  

“How’d you know it was me?” Gianna murmured softly. 

“I didn’t.”  His tone was neutral, but his eyes were blazing, even in the darkness.  

She couldn’t pull her eyes from him, and all she could think about was taking the half a step needed to be pressed against his soft skin. 

“Hoped it was,” Harry added after a beat of silence, his eyes falling to her mouth. “Didn’t know, but hoped.” 

The words barely made their way from his lips before Gianna was taking the small step to connect their mouths.  And it was as if  Harry was waiting for it, because his hand immediately cupped her jaw as he took his own step, her back pressing against the wall once more.  

His lips were warm, and they tasted familiar this time. That thought surprised Gianna somehow - this wasn’t the first time, and although it was new, it was comforting in a way she wouldn’t be able to explain if she tried.  

He kissed her with his entire body, every inch of him pressed tightly against her, pinning her to the wall.  His tongue teased her bottom lip, and without second thought, she met him with her own, sparks shooting across her skin in the form of goosebumps and anticipation.  

The soft groan that escaped his throat as he pulled her even closer lit her on fire, his fingers digging harder into the soft curves of her hips.  

“Fuck, I want you,” Harry sighed breathlessly, his lips trailing across Gianna’s jaw and down her neck.  

She scratched her nails down his back, his body only pressing against hers more in response. “Want you too,” she whispered, like it was a confession, as if her actions hadn’t already exposed her.  

His lips burned against her throat, sucking deliberate kisses to her sensitive skin as his hands smoothed up and down her sides, gripping here, pulling there. She could feel him, hard and needy against her pelvis, and it made her stomach twist with desire. 

“This has to stay between us,” Gianna spoke gently up to the ceiling. “No one can know.”  

“Good,” Harry stamped a kiss to her jaw, pulling her face to his by the back of her neck, his lips brushing hers with his words. “Can be our secret.”  

And it was, he made sure of it.  No one would know what went on between them under the darkness of the night, hidden behind the walls of his room, disguised behind their eyes in the daylight.  

It would just be theirs, whatever it was, for as long as Harry could help it.  

But that’s the thing about secrets… they always find a way out.  

a/n: *nervous laughter* Heyyy guysss lol so! There we have it! It’s happening, it’s fine, everything’s fine. The biggest thanks to the best babes @andwhenshesays​ @oh-honey-styles​ @harrytheehottie​ @real-work-of-art​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ @all-things-fic​ for the comments and laughs and support and encouragement - you guys are the real ones. I hope everyone enjoyed this one! Much more to come *more nervous laughter* lol thank you for reading! I hope you’ve had a great friday! xxx 

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[an-obsessed-writer]

Mind Over Matter

Summary: Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. What happens when (Y/N) finds herself meeting him at one of his parties?

(A/N): i think i’ll turn this into a series, but not sure yet! im a whore for zemo rn as everyone is, let me know if you’re interested in reading more <3

Word Count: 2.2k

“(Y/N)!” Wanda plops onto your bed after she runs into the dorm, and smiles sweetly up at you. “Wanna go to a party tonight? Word has it that Zemo is throwing a major bash for the new school year.”

Everyone knew the Baron Helmut Zemo, you’d have to be living under a rock to not recognize the name of the ridiculously wealthy royal attending your university. He was the school’s top bachelor, a sophisticated and confident man who obviously was wealthy. That was enough to make any woman at the university swoon, but he was always known to never keep a girl for long. Fortunately, you didn’t live under a rock, just too immersed in your studies to care much about him. You’ve seen him walking on campus before, with his fur coat and maroon mock turtleneck, and you could see why he was such a popular man. It’s known that Europeans always have the best sense of style.

“I’ve already got a major essay to finish for my philosophy class next week, maybe next time?” You frown at your roommate, feigning sadness that you wouldn’t be able to make it, but by the look of her face, she wasn’t going to let you get out of this one.

“You promised you’d attend a party this year! We’re juniors and you’ve been to only a handful. Besides, his parties are super classy, everyone gets all dressed up. It’ll be fun, I swear.” Wanda looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you couldn’t help but think about the opportunity presented.

It was true, you hadn’t been to many parties since college started. Your grades were stellar, your reputation even more so. Studying as a pre-med was no joke, resulting in your non-existent social life, but you honestly didn’t mind it much. You kept your head down because college was expensive enough as it is, you couldn’t afford to get distracted. Closing the laptop on your lap, a sigh escapes your mouth, and Wanda took it as a silent submission for what she had planned.

“Perfect! It’s tonight at his mansion. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to get him wrapped around your finger by the end of the night,” she winked and immediately began rummaging through her closet for the perfect outfit. “I heard the theme was the 20’s, I’ve always loved the flapper girl outfits.” A laugh escaped from Wanda’s lips, and a mischievous smile was displayed on her face. 

If there was anyone you trusted at this place, it’d be Wanda Maximoff. Her brother Pietro came as a close second, but she’d been your rock throughout your educational journey. Everyone loved her, everyone wanted her at their parties, but she chose to stay in with you to watch movies and talk about guys on more than one occasion. Coming from Sokovia, Wanda and Zemo talked often because of their love for the Sokovian language, but nothing romantic ever stemmed from their interactions with each other.

Truth be told, you were a pretty girl. This never went unnoticed by the guys around you, leading to a few regretful hookups. Your confidence oozed from your cheeky smile and subtly flirtatious comments when appropriate, but you were adamant on not entering a relationship until school was over. However, you were the realist out of this duo, and you knew for a fact you’d never be able to pull a guy like Helmut Zemo. With his looks and amount of money, he could get the most sought after movie star (which everyone was fairly sure he hooked up with Megan Fox at one point, but that was just a rumor).

“Do you still have your flapper girl costume from Halloween a while ago? I’ve got mine, and I don’t think we have enough time to shop before the party,” Wanda inquired.

“Of course I do, it’s my go to Halloween costume now if I ever go out again.” You smiled, reminiscing over the memories from last Halloween, and stumbled off your bed to find the outfit. 

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

The music was blasting, and you couldn’t help but look in awe of your surroundings. A double curved staircase with red carpeting was in front of you and Wanda, with grand railings connected to the marble floor below. The home was obnoxiously large, you could talk and an echo would rumble through the room. 

Wanda gives you an encouraging look, and grabs your hand to lead you towards the party room upstairs. The silver tassels from your mini dress rubbed against your dress with every step you took, and you knew there was no turning back now. Besides, there was no way you could leave this beautiful home anytime soon, you simply wanted to drink in it’s beauty forever.

Once upstairs, a man in a suit smiled at the two of you, and asked for your invitations, which Wanda gladly handed over. With a nod, he opened the doors that were taller than any of you, and the sight immediately took your breath away.

White, translucent balloons hung from the ceiling. Art deco inspired tables with feathers and gold tassels lining over them containing copious amounts of alcohol were in the middle of the room. Intricate white and golden wallpaper covered the walls, which helped bring everything together, but the flashing disco lights allowed a modern feel to this 1920’s inspired party.

Not too long after entering the room, Vision strutted over to the two of you after catching sight of his girlfriend. “Hello (Y/N),” he flashed a quick smile to you and placed a kiss on Wanda’s cheek, “Care if I steal my girlfriend away for a dance?”

“No problem at all,” you waved your hand to dismiss the two of them, and Wanda went off to the dance floor with her love. 

This was normal, Wanda would be whisked away by Vision, and you typically found a guy to bring you attention for the night, but something felt different. Right now, all you wanted was a drink, and you found yourself making a beeline towards the tables full of alcohol. 

The bartender was dressed in one of the finest suits, and you couldn’t help but wonder “If his employees are dressed like this, what was the Baron wearing?”

“What would you like?” Your mind blanked trying to think of alcohol that you liked, it’s been too long.

“Surprise me, it’s been a while.” You smiled sheepishly, but your attention was caught by the feeling of another person behind you.

“That won’t do, you look like you need something strong.” A thick, European accent filled your ears, and you couldn’t help the way that your body tensed up. With a turn of your head, your eyesight took hold of the one and only, Helmut Zemo.

He looked even more delicious standing so close to you. As expected, Zemo didn’t mess around with his looks. A burgundy, pinstripe suit hugged his figure, and you couldn’t help but take note of the way his arms looked under the tight sleeves.

“Something strong would be nice,” you say holding your chin up, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of the most well known man in the school. With a wave of his finger and a command in a language you didn’t know, two shots of clear liquid were slammed on the table, and Zemo picked one up with a cheeky smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him and nervously picked up the shot glass with shaky hands. Lifting it up to your nose, your face contorted into an expression of disgust at the smell of acetone. “What is this?”

With a rumbling chuckle from Zemo, your cheeks blushed slightly, silently scolding yourself for losing your composure. He raised his glass and with a tilt of his head, he responded “Rakija, essentially European moonshine. I’ll take a shot with you, it can be too strong for some Americans.”

Silently, you nodded and raised the shot glass, mimicking his actions. Once he swiftly threw back the liquid into his mouth, you followed, and immediately wanted to gag. It burned as it went down your throat, the taste of pure chemicals became overwhelming, and you managed to keep a straight face through it all. Zemo slammed his glass back onto the table and took a step towards you in order to be able to communicate over the loud music.

“I apologize for being such a rude host, but I don’t recognize you.” The smell of rich cologne flooded your nostrils, and you could’ve melted right there. His eyes peered down onto you, being that you were significantly shorter than the man towering over your body, and you licked your lips.

“I usually stay in my dorm, I’m pre-med.” You held your hand out politely, “(Y/N).”

Zemo’s rough hands took hold of your own, lowering his head to leave a kiss on the indents of your knuckles. Without standing up straight, he raises his eyes to look at you through his eyebrows, “It’s a pleasure to meet you (Y/N), I hope you’re enjoying the party.”

His voice was like smooth caramel and melted chocolate, just the right mix of salty and sweet. His thick accent burned into your head with the way he said your name, and your hand was tingling from where his lips met your knuckles. After hearing the stories of his charming ways, you wanted to call bullshit, but experiencing this first hand was completely different. There was some truth to the rumors of the mysterious Baron, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to find out more. The man simply oozed sex appeal.

“I actually just got here with Wanda. She’s off somewhere with Vision.” You were proud of how you managed to keep your voice at a steady level, knowing that your mind was going crazy with how close the two of you were.

Zemo’s eyebrow perked up at the mention of Wanda’s name and held out his hand with the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, “Any friend of Wanda’s is a friend of mine, care to dance (Y/N)?”

Every fiber of your being wanted you to run, knowing that if you went to dance with him, there was no turning back. Still, you couldn’t stop your hand from being placed into his, and he swiftly pulled you along towards the dance floor. 

Sweaty bodies surrounded the two of you, but you could only focus on his eyes engulfing the way the dress hugged your body in all the right spots. He placed his hand on the small of your back where the dress was open, the touch sending shivers down your spine. The Baron’s hands were warm, completely contrasting the iciness of your skin. 

With another hand on your waist and a smirk, he began moving his hips, which you soon followed. As the song went on, the distance between you got smaller and smaller, until your chest was practically smushed against his. You lifted your left hand to run through his chestnut brown hair, and it was as soft as you expected it to be.

“Of course it is,” you thought to yourself. “A Baron deserves only the most expensive products.”

“You’d think I would know everyone on campus, but your beauty caught me by surprise.” His breath felt hot against your ear, and you swallowed thickly.

“Not many people know me,” you countered.

“What a shame, isn’t it darling?” The use of pet names was enough to make your knees buckle, especially when paired with the Sokovian drawl, but you shook your head in defiance.

“He probably says that to all the girls.” Even so, you wished your mind would be quiet so you could appreciate this moment for what it is. The chance to dance with the bachelor everyone was pining for, but he was only paying attention to you.

You didn’t respond, only picking up the pace of your swaying hips, grinding against his thigh. Zemo exhaled a quick breath, and wasted no time to smash his lips onto yours. This action sent electricity through your body, the taste of the alcohol on his breath only made him more alluring, and your mouth copied his movements. Teeth clacked against one another, but neither of you cared. The only thing you could think about was the feeling of his fingers trailing down your back, and the way you fit with him like a lost puzzle piece.

Zemo grabbed at the nape of your neck, signaling to deepen the kiss with a tightening grip and a nip at your bottom lip, but you pulled away before you did something you regret.

With a confused look, Zemo licked his lips. “Care to go upstairs to my room?”

“Actually,” you say breathlessly, “I think it’s better if I head out.” Regretfully, you untangle your bodies and take a step back from the powerful man standing in front of you.

Without taking a second to think about what you’ve just done, you turn and make your way to the exit, but not without glancing at the Baron one last time. 

His eyes never left you, and he stood still as you walked through the doors.

[jenn-i-guess]

Pictured Confessions//Kiribaku

Imagine Class 1-A bringing in old childhood photo albums and middle school yearbooks, all except for Kiri who was too embarrassed to bring anything like that.

That doesn’t stop Mina from bringing her own middle school yearbook, and guess what?

Besides finding a-kind of the same looking-picture of younger Mina, they find an INTERESTING picture of middle school Kirishima...

Black straightened hair, dark grey eyeshadow, and tons of (seemingly fake) piercings, jutting out of his lip and nose, even one on his eyebrow, with one shaved line at the crease.

But the cherry on top was the very obvious Hot Topic shirt with what seemed to be a cover of some heavy metal band.

Silence fills the room, heat radiating off of the very embarrassed Kirishima, pressing his face into his palms.

If he was a cartoon, steam would definitely be shooting from his ears.

“Dude...” Sero began.

“You were such an emo!” Kaminari finished with a snort, eyes watering.

Groaning into his hands once more, he began to wonder how he could possibly die at this moment.

Maybe if the floor could just swallow him whole, it would be doing him a big favor right about now.

“W-Well!” He started, reaching out and grabbing Mina’s yearbook.

“Two can play at that game! Did you know-“ Kiri paused, for dramatic affect, flipping many of the laminated pages before he found what he was looking for, “That Mina used to be in the drama club?!”

Mina shrieked as their friends began crowding around the book again, looking at a very embarrassing picture.

Hopefully much more embarrassing than his that it would be long forgotten.

It was a large picture, in which Mina was wearing a huge white wig and a judge’s dress while holding her arms up in the air.

The picture captured her face when she was pursing her lips, her eyes widening comically.

“No! Don’t look!” Mina screamed, jutting her arms out before grabbing the book, slamming it shut and holding it against her chest, a wild look on her face.

“Nice wig, Mina.” Kaminari wheezed, his face scrunching up like he just tasted a lemon, trying to hold back more laughter.

“Oh you’re one to talk. Where’s your yearbook?” She smirked, pleased with herself when Kaminari blanched and shut up quite completely.

Everyone began to gather around Kaminari, poking him to show his memorabilia.

Kirishima sighed, choosing this moment to step out.

Looking around the room, he noticed there was one less person than before.

A certain blonde, whom he had really hoped had not seen the embarrassing photo of him but it would’ve been hard not to, what with Mina holding it up for all the class to see.

He scanned the room and saw Bakugou walking back towards the elevator, jamming his finger on the button with so much more anger than necessary.

Curious, Kirishima walked fast over to him, ignoring the quick chattering of his friends.

Just as the elevator was about to close, Kirishima jutted his foot between the two sliding doors, stopping them momentarily.

“Hey! Wait up Bakubro!” He slid in, feeling the blonde’s crimson eyes boring holes into the back of his head.

“The hell are you doing, shitty-hair?” Bakugou sneered, watching as the redhead pressed the button to their floor, smiling when it made a soft chiming noise.

“Eh, I’m bored. I’m just gonna work out in my room and then probably hit the hay.” Kirishima shrugged.

Bakugou nodded, shoving his fists into his grey sweatpants pockets, leaning against the elevator wall.

The redhead stared a little more at his friend, lingering on his face.

He had never seen the blonde so...emotionless.

His pale face smooth and relaxed, no wrinkles or furrowed eyebrows from his usual spouts of anger.

In fact he looked...pretty. Not just his face, but the light blonde tufts of hair styled in spikes surrounding it.

Well...Kiri also thought he looked hot as well.

What?! You can’t really blame him!

Not when Bakugou wore those black tank tops, showing off hints of his pectorals, doing nothing to stop him from looking at the muscles bulging on his arms.

It was especially excruciatingly painful to watch whenever they trained together.

Watching beads of sweat fall down beyond the collar of his top, making Kirishima wonder what was beyond that line of clothing.

Wondering how it would feel if he touched that expanse of skin.

A loud chime spooked him out of his very homoerotic thoughts, a faint dust of red filling the apples of his cheeks as he realized he had still been staring at Bakugou’s meaty biceps.

He grimaced, hoping Bakugou didn’t see him staring, but he didn’t get a chance to, as Bakugou was already walking out of the elevator.

Kirishima inhaled deeply, shaking his head as he followed Bakugou to their neighboring dorms.

The blonde stopped in front of his door, turning to stare at Kirishima.

The redhead gulped, nervously watching as Bakugou looked him up and down, seeming like he was expecting Kiri to say something.

“Well, goodnight Bakugou!” He smiled at him, going to open his door when suddenly a much lighter hand slammed it shut once more.

“Hold on.” Bakugou demanded, his gruff voice bouncing against the empty hallway.

Kirishima paused, his lips shut tight as he waited for Bakugou to say more.

“Um...yes?” He smiled meekly, his lips not exactly curving upwards.

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, his cheeks flushing red as he stammered, “Y-You! You still need help with tutoring tonight, right?!” He yelled out the last bit.

Ah! Tonight is Friday! Their tutoring night!

With all of the excitement of yearbooks and family pictures he must’ve forgotten completely!

Ugh, so unmanly to keep Bakugou waiting, to make him ask like this.

“Oh! Yes yes, right! Of course, my bad Bakugou.” Kiri nodded his head, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, beginning to turn red with embarrassment.

Bakugou relaxed his shoulders, the smallest of grins beginning to show on his face.

“Whatever, ‘s not like I expected you to remember anything with that pea-sized brain of yours.” He mocked, turning around to open his door.

“Hey! My brain is normal sized, just like yours!” Kirishima retaliated, stomping after Bakugou.

The door clicked shut behind them, entrapping Kirishima inside of the cool shadowy room that was Bakugou’s.

Besides being cooler temperature wise, the room was also very...boring.

It surprised him every time Kirishima walked into Bakugou’s room, just the overall average ness.

Bland grey walls with nothing decorating them, not even so much as a poster of his favorite hero.

And to go along with the insane asylum decor, black bedsheets and a white pillowcase, neatly put together as if he never touched the bed at all.

Kirishima smiled to himself, feeling comfortable in the others room, a sense of familiarity.

The blonde groaned before flipping down on his bed, back-first.

“So, what is it that you need help with?” He spoke, his usually rough voice toning down a bit.

Kiri started to speak, but paused as he took a breath.

Actually, he didn’t really have anything to work on.

Final exams were over, there were no surprise tests sprung out by Aizawa.

Truly, there was no reason he should even be in this room at all.

So why did he want to stay?

Stuttering out his last breath, he crouched onto the floor, shuffling into a criss-crossed position.

“Well, actually-“ He chuckled nervously, watching as Bakugou leaned upwards, resting on his elbows while staring at him incredulously.

“Ha, I guess I don’t really have anything to do. I don’t really need to study for anything.”

“So then, why’d you come in here?” Bakugou grunted, sitting up all the way and leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his knees.

“Honestly?” Kiri shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m so exhausted from today. Just having to deal with everyone yelling and having to show people photos, especially mine!” He groaned.

But some part of him did wonder if Bakugou knew what he was talking about.

But oh bOy was he not at all prepared for the answer to that question!

“Oh, you mean that hot picture of you?”

Kirishima wheezed, his lungs squeezing together as all the air escaped his body.

He coughed-super attractively-while trying to think of anything to say.

It didn’t help that Bakugou just kept staring at him, his eyebrows raised and a subtle smirk keeping his lips quirked up.

“Ahem, what?” Kiri’s heart hammered against his chest, his fingers feeling oddly clammy clasped together.

“I said-“ Bakugou shuffled himself onto the floor, leaning closer into Kirishima’s space.

So close that Kiri could smell the spicy scent of the blonde’s body wash, almost intoxicating to him.

“I thought that picture of you was hot.” He rumbled, one of his eyebrows quirking upwards in such a way that Kiri could actually feel his heart stopping and starting at the same time.

“Ah, um cool.” He sputtered before his brain caught up to his idiotic mouth.

Cool?!

Kill him. Right here right now. He is a waste of a human body.

But a light airy sound broke him out of his embarrassing trance, a laugh.

Bakugou was chuckling at him. And in a really cute way!

Kirishima could rarely ever get Bakugou to laugh, most of the time he was the one being laughed at.

Just like now but...it was different. The way he was laughing, the smile stretching his lips.

There were indents marking at the corner of his eyes as he laughed, small divots of skin.

“Dumbass.” Bakugou chortled, biting his lips to reel in another fit of laughter.

Oh. Wow.

Kiri was definetly sure he was blushing now, half of it being because of embarrassment but the other half...

Adoration.

Damn, Eijirou was really swimming in the deep end wasn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up! You can’t just-just say something like that and expect a good answer out of me!” Kirishima whined, balling up his hands in frustrations.

“What is your answer?” Bakugou asked, nonchalantly.

Kiri paused once more, “My what?”

“You said,” Bakugou smirked, “That I cant expect a good answer. How about just a regular one?”

“A...regular one?”

Oh boy. Was this really happening? Oh god oh fuck-

Bakugou hummed, his face going slack as he waited for an answer.

“Well, I guess it’s okay that you found me hot, then.”

But the real question still lingered on his lips, like a bad aftertaste.

“And it’s fine if you...don’t find me attractive now.” He murmured the last part, a part of him hoping Bakugou didn’t catch what he said.

Kiri glanced back up when he heard a harsh scoff come from Bakugou’s mouth.

“Tch, never said that.” He muttered, his face growing steadily pink.

“You-“

Kiri blanked.

His outer body seemed to get clammy and sweaty but his insides, it felt as if he was being burned.

His heart hammered painfully, and he found it even harder to breathe.

“What...Bakugou what do you mean by that?” Kirishima asked, his voice quivering on the last word, staring straight at Bakugou’s crimson eyes.

The blonde shifted, growing more embarrassed by the second. He wiped his calloused hands against his mouth and bit his lip.

“Bakugou-“

Kirishima reached out and grabbed Bakugou’s hand, feeling the sweat mixing in with his own.

He wanted to feel it.

If this moment really was happening he wanted to feel how it felt.

Eijirou swallowed down his building saliva, using his thumb to rub gentle circles onto the blonde’s soft skin.

“I-I like you too. If this means what I think it means, I like you too.” He couldn’t help but let the nervous smile contort his lips, the tips of his sharp teeth sticking out, like white gleams in the darkness of Bakugou’s room.

The blonde’s head snapped back to stare at Kirishima, his eyes widening in what seemed to be disbelief, then softening.

Bakugou snorted, twisting his hand away, almost causing Kirishima’s heart to break into pieces.

That is until those lovely hands came up to rest lightly on his face, palms squishing his cheeks lightly.

And god the sudden warmness of those palms made his heart stutter.

And it gave him a thrill as well.

Knowing that in a matter of seconds these hands could explode and destroy everything that they touched.

Yet, they touched him so softly, his thumbs barely grazing any skin.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I do this.” Bakugou breathed out, his face inching closer and closer, his breath mingling with Kirishima’s.

Getting ever so close until eventually...

Kirishima closed his eyes in bliss, his own soft lips sliding against Bakugou’s rougher chapped ones.

He sighed through his nose, his own hands coming up to rest on Bakugou’s shoulders.

Wow, it felt so nice.

So right.

Like this was exactly the place his lips belonged.

Right on top of Bakugou’s.

He gasped for air as the blonde’s tongue warily poked between his lips, sliding in when Kirishima allowed.

“Woah okay!” Kirishima pulled away, chuckling as his face burned with excitement.

Bakugou smirked, poking his tongue out to swipe across his bottom lip. “Too much?” He teased.

Kirishima groaned loudly, falling on top of Bakugou’s knees to hide his enflamed face.

“Dude, you suck so much right now.” His voice was muffled against the blonde’s knees.

“Mm, too bad. You’re gonna have to live with it.”

Bakugou’s voice rumbled, the vibrations tickling Kiri’s cheeks.

Kirishima jolted up, a large toothy smile on his face.

“You mean...is this you trying to ask me out?” Kirishima whispered, leaning closer his cheeks starting to hurt from how wide his smile was.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, holding his hands up.

Kirishima yelled as Bakugou used one of his fingers to flick him painfully at the tip of his nose.

“Ow!” He looked to the blonde for answers, rubbing his abused nose.

“The fuck do you mean? Was me kissing you not enough dipshit?!” Bakugou sneered, his furrowed eyebrows making him look like a grumpy cat.

Kirishima chuckled, smiling as he leaned forward.

“No no, it was.” He used his hand to squish Bakugou’s cheeks together, placing a gentle kiss on his puckered lips.

Bakugou relaxed, humming against his lips. “Good.” He murmured.

“Good.” Kirishima leaned back, his eyes widening when he saw the smile on Bakugou’s face.

A smile, though not large, but wide enough to show his gleaming teeth.

He leaned in again to see if that smile tasted just as good as it looked.

It did.

[elizaellwrites]

Find the Word

I got tagged by @storiesbyscot to play this game. Thank you so much, it was a lot of fun! Keeping this spoiler free was more difficult than I thought...



Broken A small glint of silver metal caught the corner of his eye on the floor, pushed up against the opposite wall. He immediately recognized it as Natalie’s necklace, the gemstone that she had worn every day since they had met. Grief overtook him, looking towards Bella, then back to the necklace. He lifted Marie into his arms carefully, then went to the necklace, holding it to his chest as its broken chain brushed against the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blood behind.

He looked helplessly back at Bella, a sob rising in his throat. “I’ll be back for you,” he told her, knowing there was no use. “I promise.”

-Prologue (Legacy of the Fallen)

Wing

Slowly she forced her head to turn to her right hand, her fingers slipping slightly on textured metal. A silver blade expanding outward from her backhanded grip sent a gasp that shuddered her body. Crystal, wing-like structures jutted out on each side of the hilt in an admittedly gorgeous guard. A silver V-shaped joint connected the simple length of the blade which was almost as long as her forearm to the hilt, with only a sharp hourglass indent two-thirds down the blade interrupting the classic shape. She shifted her fingers slightly, the ridged lines on the grip making it easier for her hand to balance the alien object in her palm.

-Chapter 2 (Legacy of the Fallen)

Home

His dislike of strangers aside, the positives definitely outweighed the negatives. As strange as some of his classmates would probably see it, the school had given him freedom. For once in his life, he was able to let go and be a normal kid with normal responsibilities. He didn’t like talking or even thinking about his home at all.

-Chapter 3 (Legacy of the Fallen)

Blackened

She skidded to a halt as a golden sword sprung into vision, seemingly out of nowhere. A red gem glinted in the afternoon sun, the blackened hilt curving up and around his hand. She could hear the others stop behind her, but her eyes were locked on the blade.

It couldn’t be.

“Where did he get that?” Cameron’s voice was tense, his large frame looming behind her.

“The lost and found?” Ryan murmured.

-Chapter 9 (Legacy of the Fallen)

Pandemonium

Anna’s eyes bounced between the multiple events happening around her, her mind trying to comprehend as the world she had known turned inside out before her. She didn’t acknowledge the short girl, who had moved to her side, just as the blond, who was getting back to his feet, had gone to Rachel and Ben.

“Come on,” Her features still held the innocence of a child, her vivid green gaze holding the same innocence. She was most likely a couple of years younger than her, maybe even more. It was almost calming in the pandemonium around them. “We need to go.”

-Chapter 8 (Legacy of the Fallen)

I honestly have no idea who to tag... @authorofstories55, @genesiswriting if you want to play (no pressure at all), and anyone else who wants to join. The words I choose are: Calmly, Beam, Disappear, Cold, and Obsolete as a challenge.

[thegryffindorprincess]

Break Up Sex//Draco Malfoy x Reader sad smut

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Look who promised to post then had a break down (it me!) Anyway, here’s a super sad smut for you while I perfect Worthy part two!

Word count: 1,805

Set: Post War

Warnings: Unprotected sex 

Y/N Y/L/N lay on top of the emerald green sheets of the grand double bed that lay in the centre of the grand bedroom of Malfoy Manor, on her side, eyes pinned to the bed side table. Upon it lay a photo album, that she was stuck staring at as if in a trance, reluctant to pick it up. Her arms darted forward to grab the large, leather bound book as she lay it on the bed beside her, still not opening it as if she were afraid to look. The room was dark, joyless and cold, the hairs on her arms standing to attention, the blackness of the room only defeated by the small, orange candle stick that glowed from the same bed side table the book had previously resided on. The girl sighed deeply, turning to caress the silver writing that indented the green leather of the album, tracing the large note on the cover. 

“To my darling, love Draco.”

She shivered in the cold, wrapping the thin, silk night gown tighter around her body. Tracing the cover once more, noting the curves of the silver snake wound around the message, Y/N slipped her fingers into the album, flipping over the cover to reveal the first page. The unwavering frown that painted her face upturned slightly as she watched the moving picture sitting in her hands. Herself and Draco’s smiling faces beamed back up at her, the eleven year old versions of themselves waving around their Slytherin scarves on the front steps of Hogwarts- the first time they met. She flipped the page over to reveal two photographs of them, this time at the very manor she was laid in at the moment. The top one was of them larking around in the study, taken by Dobby, the bottom of them laying in the thick grass of the gardens, taken by Narcissa. Her fingers stroked their innocent faces as they lay together, hands ghosting eachother. On the page opposite was Y/N and Draco before the Yule Ball, her emerald green dress sparkling through the photo, the picture below depicting their first kiss. Draco had written in his neat, cursive writing next to this one: “when you became mine” the green ink swirling gently next to the picture. Y/N smiled a little more at that, dreaming of how simple everything seemed. The next few pages were littered with them at parties, in matching couples Halloween costumes, their first official Christmas and the many famous Malfoy Balls. The album became a little empty after that, Y/N’s face creasing at the thought of the war. But after that came the pictures of their engagement, causing the small smile lines in her face to return. The most recent picture in the book though, was the two of them toasting champagne to Draco’s new job as relationship liason at the Ministry and her face fell. She could never admit to him that she wasn’t happy with his job, to her that would never be fair, but Draco’s job consisted of partying and networking- essentially getting drunk and buttering people up. It bothered Y/N and it wasn’t like he didn’t know it. She thought about the fact that in the last six months they hadn’t really talked at all and if they had, it would be an argument. Their was nothing particularly great about them anymore, it was clear to even the most distant onlooker that the things they had in common where starting to disappear and Y/N wished that it upset her more. But if she was honest, the whole thing had been slowly losing it’s sparkle for months. 

Closing the album and slipping it back onto the side table, Y/N pulled the covers over her body, unsurprised at how they failed to help her feel warm. As she rolled over to face the other side of the room, away from the door, she fiddled with the Malfoy family ring on her finger, staring at it sympathetically. With one last look at the ring, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. 

A few hours later, around four in the morning, Y/N was awoken by a gruff noise and the thud of shoes being taken off- he was finally home. Draco rid himself of the rest of his suit, leaving him in his underwear and heaved himself into bed. Y/N lay still, hoping he wouldn’t pester her and assume she was asleep. He looked over in her direction for a moment before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. 

“I love you.” He whispered in her ear, before rolling over onto the other side of the bed, leaving distance in between them again. Y/N lay for a moment, contemplating her choices, deciding to roll the same way as him so his back was touching her front. 

“Do you?” She asked frankly, noticing his face twist into slight shock that she was indeed, awake. Draco shuffled awkwardly, still failing to meet her gaze. “Well, do you?” 

“Of course I do babe.” His answer was certain, but he was still unable to properly turn to meet her gaze, too anxious to find out what he’d find if he did. “I’m sorry I’m not here for you enough.” Y/N sighed a little, grabbing onto his shoulders and twisting him to face her. 

“I can’t do this Dray, not like this.” He knew she meant it seriously, but he decided that if he pretended it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t. 

“I know.” Draco’s response was blunt but she understood. “I love you though, don’t ask me that ever again.” She felt like rolling her eyes but decided against it, instead moving closer to him so that their faces were basically touching. 

“Prove it.” Y/N whispered, her breath fanning his face slightly. Draco looked from her lips to her eyes, wanting to delve into her brain to find out what she was thinking, but he wouldn’t do that to her, not ever. Instead, he closed the gap and placed his lips onto his fiance’s, gripping the back of her neck with his palm tightly, pulling her closer and closer into him. His tongue entered her mouth and began to slip over hers in perfect harmony, her hands gliding from his chest to his waist band so gently he barely noticed. His own pale hands were stroking her lower back, causing her to squirm beneath him. Y/N’s hands went for his waistband but he waved them off, moving her back onto the pillows with his body squished inbetween her legs instead. She watched him, her head laid upon the pillows and her legs spread ever so slightly as he grazed his hands over her body, before curling his fingers around the top of her green panties and pulling them down over her hips and thighs. He watched her intensely as he ghosted his fingers over her area, mindful not to place any preassure anywhere where she would feel it. His hot breath was fanning her inner thighs, making her go jelly-like underneath him. Without any warning, Draco buried his face into her pussy, using his tongue to dart in and out of her folds, her juices painting his chin and lips gracefully. His hand shot to her clit so that two of his large fingers could rub it roughly, causing his name and a string of curse words to fall of of her lips like a spell. 

“So good for me, so so good.” He whispered, the vibrations of his voice rumbling through her body. Y/N let out a broken moan as Draco continued to use both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her, his free hand massaging and flicking her nipples between his fingers.

“Oh Draco, I’m going to...” She moaned, her eyes screwed shut and face titled towards the heavens. Draco watched her mesmerised, enjoying the view of her in so much pleasure. 

“Do it angel, do it.” He coaxed, not once removing his fingers from her clit, still using his tongue to make her legs jiggle. He could feel her tightening on his tongue, and he didn’t stop once her cum was dripping from his mouth, her enjoyment turning him on even more. Eventually he did remove himself from her pussy, pulling away slowly and revelling in her whimpers at the loss of contact. Draco pushed himself up with his hands after she’d recovered, positioning himself over her so that they were face to face again. “Taste yourself.” He whispered, pressing his lips to hers again, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth.

“Fuck” Y/N whimpered, the taste of herself so prominent on his lips that she felt herself begin to drip with her own wetness again. She had little time to prepare though, as before she knew it, Draco was lined up with her entrance and pushing himself in, causing her to grab onto his back as he thrust in and out of her pussy. Her moans began to echo from wall to wall again, and she wrapped her legs around his middle so that he was constantly hitting the perfect spot. Draco’s moans had become growls as his thrusts quickened, his grip on her waist tightening with every thrust he took, causing nail marks to appear in her side. Neither cared for the marks that were forming or the noise they were causing, their bodies were just totally devoted to each other, wrapped into one. Draco’s thrusts had began to become sloppy, and Y/N could feel his dick begin to twitch inside of her. With one last throaty growl ripping through him, he came in her, his cum dripping from her pussy as soon as he removed his cock. 

They didn’t speak after, Draco simply turned around and settled himself to sleep, feeling exhausted. Y/N sighed once more, before leaning over his body to study his face. Once she was certain that he was one hundred percent asleep, she slithered out of bed and over to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. She quietly opened the doors, slipping out the bag she’d packed a few nights ago, filled with her clothes and toiletries. She crept towards the bedside table quietly before placing the last few things she owned into the bag, including the photo album. After doing this, she flicked her wand over her body, wrapping herself in some of her warmest clothes. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she turned. Spinning back on her heal, she looked down at her hand, to the ring. Looking over at the sleeping man she loved, she slipped the Malfoy ring from her finger and laid it carefully onto the bed side table. Then hoisting up the bag, she waved her wand and disapperated from Draco’s bedroom in Malfoy Manor, hoping to arrive somewhere far, far away. 

[starlightsearches]

His Pilot Ch. 5

Masterlist

Armitage Hux x Pilot! Reader (f)

Warnings: Language, angst.

AN: This one is a little short but I felt like this was a nice enough place to cut off. Chapter 6 will be out fairly soon since it's already half written!

I’ve been spying for the Resistance.

The air in your lungs solidifies, turning to ash as you freeze against him, like an animal in a trap. General Hux, a Resistance spy.

All those hours by his side, and you never knew—couldn’t read it in his palms when his hand rested in yours, or feel traces of it on his shoulders during any embrace. You couldn’t taste it, the lies on his lips when he held you in trembling hands and poured light into your empty and waiting soul.

How could he not tell you? How could you not know?

You’ve been blind. The answer comes as soon as you allow yourself to ask the question: Day. The general had always been so private about the purpose of these trips, and you’d ignored all the signs, too caught up in your own head to see what was right in front of you.

The general’s chest swells where you lay your cheek against it; he can’t stay still, his hands traveling over your arms with a feverish energy, his voice a low, urgent whisper.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I’ve planned for this. We’ll return to the ship. You’ll tell the Supreme Leader that you have certain suspicions, and I’ll— and he’ll spare you, if you’re the one who tells him. You’ll be safe. It’s alright. You’ll be safe.”

Safe. The word disgusts you, and you force your way out of his arms, recoiling from him like you’ve been burned. Safe. Safe. Safe.

You’ve never wanted anything less.

And at such a steep cost. He’s offering you a half-life, one where he dies but takes more of you than you can live without. You won’t bear it. You need more time.

Forcing yourself out of his grasp, you search the cabin with frantic eyes and an unruly heartbeat—for what, you don’t know.

Until you see the blaster.

Someone must have forgotten about it. It might not even work, left behind after a mission as a defective piece of equipment, a bit of clutter for someone else to clean up, but you can’t worry about that right now.

The blaster rests heavily in your hand, the grip marks indented against your palm, the sharp edge of the trigger digging into the meat of your finger. You raise the weapon to eye level, focusing the sight on the center of the ship’s controls, willing your hand to stay still. You’ve never been that good of a shot, but there’s no way you can miss at such close range.

The control panel bursts into a shower of sparks, the blaster bolt peeling through the layers of wire and durasteel and machinery with ease, ripping apart what was whole and leaving a smoking cavern through the middle of it. The weapon falls as you move to shield your eyes, stepping back when the heat of it meets your skin. And then a different heat—Armitage’s hands at your waist, his arms encircling you, pulling you back from the ruined controls with enough desperation to pull you back in time.

You turn, read the dread in his eyes as he examines the panel’s mangled remains. He’s horrified.

“What did you just do?”

“If you contact the Order—if you give yourself up—I’ll tell them I knew. I’ll tell them I was part of it.” Your voice shakes as you cup his cheeks in your cold, aching hands. He looks at you, disbelief etched into every line and curve of his face, his long fingers encasing your wrists as he steps back, keeping you at a distance.

“Please—” he begs, softer now, “please don’t do this.”

His eyes shut tight to the world, breathing shallow and anguished, but he can’t stop it. Tears trail down his cheeks, gentle at first, then in a downpour. He thinks he’s saying goodbye.

You’re not ready for that.

What you have with him is new, and fragile, and . . . strange. It might not last. But you don’t want to go on without knowing. You want to see what grows from the seeds you have planted.

“We could run away.”

A sharp breath cuts through his chest as he drops his hands from your arms, folding in on himself, like the pain is eating him from the inside out; you take it as an opportunity to move closer. He has to feel it—your sincerity, the loyalty you have for him. It could be love. There’s no way to know just yet, but someday it could be love.

“We could. Together. The Resistance might help us, or we’ll . . . we’ll do something. Find somewhere to hide.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

There’s lifetimes of abandonment behind those words, a skepticism that runs through his core. His fingers shake against yours, hands stiff with cold, and you hold them tighter.

“Maybe not—” you press the tips of his fingers against your lips, taste the leftover rain, let your lips trail down until you can kiss the center of his palm, urging him closer with each soft touch, “ but I know what I can’t live with, and what I can’t live without.”

His shoulders fall, lips parted in a soft sigh, the hesitant expression he wears overtaken by the slightest ray of hope.“What will we do?”

“We’ll go back to Day.”

You’re not sure what he’ll say when Day yanks open the heavy door of his estate as you and the general shiver, dripping wet on his front step. The corners of his mouth pull down into a frown, his eyes hard, the furrowed lines in his forehead much too deep for someone who smiles so freely.

He looks to the general, pursing his lips. “So, I assume you told her?”

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that.

Hux sighs, watching Day with a pained expression, but the man makes no move to let you in, cocking his brow and crossing his arms over his chest. The two men stay locked like this, staring each other down, until Day gestures, holding his hand out as if to say go on.

The general folds, sending an apologetic look your way before resting his arm gently over your shoulder, pulling you in against his side, and your cheeks flush with heat at the surprising intimacy of the gesture.

“Please, Day, we need your help.”

Day pauses, dark brows curving thoughtfully over bright amber eyes; then he grins, ferociously, yanking both of you in through the door.

“Thank the Maker, general. I was beginning to think you’d never come around.”

He steps aside to reveal Alida, already waiting for you with a fresh pile of towels and blankets. Before you can manage to voice your surprise, she’s forced a warm cup of caff into your numb hands, fussing about with a towel and piling blanket after blanket over your shoulders until the shivering stops.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Day approaches you quietly as soon as Alida moves on, holding your face in both his hands like he’s inspecting you for damage. You nod, the stiffness in your cheeks melting away under the warmth of his touch.

“I’m alright,” you assure him, and feel that same assurance lift a heavy weight off your chest.

“I don’t say this lightly, darling,” he whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “but you’re too good for him. You do know that, don’t you?”

Your eyes find Armitage in the dim light of the foyer. He’s holding his own cup of caff as Alida attempts to throw blankets over his shoulders, her arms too small to place them nicely, but he pays her little attention, scowling at the lack of distance between you and Day. Even in the darkness you can see his skin flush when you catch him staring, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

A smile that graces your lips, “I think you’re wrong.”

Hux is at your side again, trying to be subtle when he angles his body between yours and Day, “We need a plan, Day. We can’t stay on Arkanis for too long, the Order will come looking for us.”

“I’ll contact the Resistance and let them know you’re in need of protection, but it may take a few days for them to get back to me,” Day says, trying his best to conceal his grin, “but for now, you need to rest. Do you think you’re capable of that, general?”

“It’s just Hux, now, Day,” Armitage says, folding his hand into yours, looking down at you with too much affection, given the situation, “and I think I’ll manage.”

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[sunjaesol]

written kind of caffeinated, kind of stoned, kind of sleep-deprived juke | 2043 words | pure fluff

He knew that, rationally, he shouldn’t do it. The word “boundary!” blared in his head and the whole thing was really inconsequential and it was so stupid, but Luke simply couldn’t help himself. Was it because of his crush on her? Most definitely. Should that awareness stop him from doing dumb shit like this? Yes, except here he was.

While Julie was at school, she accidentally let the lights in her room on. And so, Luke poofed from the studio into her room to turn them off. Saving power, right? Doing the right thing, being a good person, definitely not going into her room because it was her room.

There was something relaxing about the space though. A sense of serenity falling on his shoulders every time he stepped inside and let his eyes wander and settle on new nooks and corners he hadn’t discovered yet. F+J scratched in the wood of her wardrobe, a box of pretty seashells, four tubes of the exact same mascara in her vanity. It felt familiar and human and simple and so, so Julie.

He flicked the lights off, the only light source being the sun pouring in and casting the room in a gentle glow. Her pink walls were gentler now, the colour of peaches and reminding him of summer nights with his boys on the beach. (It also reminded him of Julie’s peach deodorant that always hung around her and involuntarily made him zero in on her. Alex would argue he was always looking at her, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that the thought of peaches only held fond memories - new memories that now included her too.)

Alright. The lights were off. He did his good deed. He should go back to the boys… 

His feet moved on their own accord and plopped down on her bed, sinking into the mattress. His hands caressed the soft comforter, a smile tugging on his lips that thank the fucking music gods, he could still touch and feel things. He would’ve gone insane in an instant if they weren’t able to be in contact with anything or anyone. It was unfathomable to Luke - not hugging Reggie or massaging Alex’s shoulders or grabbing Julie’s hand. To him, music was just another way to share that sensation of contact with people. Didn’t matter if it was loud and rough or quiet and intimate, a ballad or a rock anthem. Connection: that was all he ever needed. 

His fingers slid further and suddenly he was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Oh, man. Now he really couldn’t leave. Her bed was so comfortable! Definitely better than the mattress he had at his folks or, even worse, the couch. That thing broke his back the last months. Ha, Luke noted bitterly, maybe it was better that he hit the bucket then. Rather dead and setting the stage on fire than living with a hernia, right? 

Though Luke still slept (habit? he guessed?), he has never felt sleepy. The boys just hung around or hit the streets and then eventually felt that tug of human normalcy. “Maybe we should go to sleep, guys. Big day ahead.” He didn’t dream. It was just black. It wasn’t unwelcome; just… empty. 

But here, laying on Julie’s bed and letting his eyes blur and rest, Luke felt sleepy. Sufficiently exhausted. He didn’t know where that sudden slam of the hammer came from, but he kind of liked it. It made him feel like he was the one that went to school today, or had a tiring shift at some fast food shack, or played a gig. He stretched himself like a star, grinned as all the joints in his back popped, and then rolled on his side. Fucking heaven. 

‘What’re you doing here?’

The faraway voice lulled the groggy Luke awake. He felt like he was hit by a truck. Where was he? 

‘Hmph?’

She chuckled, his mind speeding up at just the sound and realising that shit, he did fall asleep on her bed and she caught him. His eyes cracked open, coming face to face with an amused Julie hovering on the side of the bed. His brain supplied him with the thought that she looked pretty, reminding him once again that yup, he still liked her. A sheepish smile crawled on his lips. 

‘Hey, Jules.’

She rolled her eyes and then roughly pushed him to the other side of the bed. He squeaked, grabbing onto the comforter as to not fall off and gawked at her. 

‘Dude!’

‘This is my side of the bed,’ Julie said, pointing at the indent he made. ‘If you’re going to sleep here, it’s on the other side.’

He let out a relieved breath. ‘You’re not mad?’

‘Depends.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why were you in my room?’

Waving his hands towards the ceiling, he muttered. ‘Your lights were still on.’

His reply visibly mellowed her, so much that it kind of surprised him. Her smile melted into those she gave him whenever he found a gnarly lyric or impressed her with a riff or met her halfway for the mic onstage. During those moments, it was hard to deny there wasn’t more, that both knew there was more, but couldn’t really do anything about it. It was really depressing. “Yeah, Jules, I’m fucking crazy about you. Wanna make out and hope I don’t disappear the next day?” Even his impulsive streak wasn’t that extreme. 

He hadn’t expected her to smile like that right now. Not when he laid on her bed and her hair was begging for his fingers to slip through and the spot he slept on was still warm. He almost poofed away. Were they going to touch on the “more”? Was this it? 

‘Thanks,’ she eventually whispered, eyes dropping and meeting his again with a shyer smile and he knew he was sporting the exact same. A beat passed between them, eyes locked and unwavering. His fingers twitched. 

‘Uh…’ Mustering back some rationality, he said: ‘Do you want me to leave, or?’

Her hands stretched out. ‘No!’ Face twisting to something he could only describe as “cringe”, she went on a little calmer. ‘You can- it’s fine. I’m just going to do some homework anyway.’

He watched as she and her backpack found a place on the bed, both very close and very far away all at once. It shouldn’t be intimate, but it was. He was seventeen and she was sixteen and he was pretty sure his crush wasn’t completely one-sided and she just allowed him to stay. There wasn’t music or a guitar or a songbook to hide behind and it sort of terrified him. But in a good way? Like when he went cliff diving and stood at the edge, stomach whooping at the thought of jumping, or when he was at the top of a rollercoaster and the cart slowly began to tilt. It was that. The feeling of quiet exhilaration. 

All of that just cause Julie sat next to him bend over a history worksheet. Get a fucking grip, dude. 

He didn’t know how long she worked on her homework or how long he stared at the ceiling, hands weaved beneath his head, but it mustn’t been long. The weight shifted and suddenly Julie’s head fell on her pillow with a sigh. 

‘No, no, no, Julie,’ he teased, ‘gotta keep those grades up, right?’

She rolled on her side to stick her tongue out. ‘Very funny. You maybe don’t remember it anymore, but school’s exhausting.’

Luke also shifted on his side, chuckling. ‘Jules, it haunts me. That’s why I dropped out.’

‘Cute pun.’

‘Thanks.’ And then, because Luke was never one to overthink: ‘I like this.’

That smile of her came back, the one he always wanted to see. Her eyes crinkled and her lips slightly parted and so incredibly beautiful. He heard music when he looked at her. Death became sweeter if it meant he’d get to stare at the girl of his dreams. It was a morbid thought, but then again, he didn’t deem himself dead whenever he was around her. Luke probably felt so alive around her that it surprised him later on that he wasn’t. 

He wasn’t a ghost. Not to her. She didn’t need to tell him for him to know that. 

Julie tentatively held her hand out in the space between, palm up and smudged with ink. When he placed his on top, fingers barely intertwining but the sensation like a shot of oxygen, she murmured: ‘Me too.’

They didn’t plan for it to become routine, but it also felt kind of inevitable. Nearly every day, Luke would go to Julie’s room when he knew her day at school was nearing its end and waited on her. She’d come in and briefly recapitulate the day (usually some story regarding an annoying teacher and Flynn with a killer comeback), sliding down on her side of the bed and hold his hands. Some days, her fingertips quietly wandered the lines on his palms, some days his did. It was always quiet. Though the only ones in her room, they whispered. This wasn’t a secret (the boys were keenly aware where Luke spent his afternoons), but it felt wrong to speak at a normal volume when the other was so close.  

As the days progressed, they shifted closer. Not intentional, but once again inevitable. Everything about them felt like that nowadays. The longer he was around, the more he realised that this - the bond he shared with Julie - was always meant to happen. Whenever his thoughts meandered to those cosmically impossible ideas of serendipity and couldn’t wrap his head around it, Julie was always there with her smile to bring him back to earth. Or, well, to bed.

And then one day, Julie came home from school, saw him, and without saying anything, crawled right into his chest. His heartbeat didn’t pick up like he expected. It eased and relaxed, sinking deeper into the matress as his eyes fell shut from pure fucking bliss and hugged her closer. Her peach deodorant overwhelmed his senses in the best way possible, burrowing his face in her neck and her smile stretching against his sweater. She was warm and perfectly fit into the curve of his body and he was in love. The acceptance should’ve ached, but it didn’t. How could he think about tomorrow when Julie Molina was wrapped in his arms?

Time froze those afternoons. As long as she kept her head on his chest, as long as they didn’t leave the bed, their island, then nothing could hurt them. 

One afternoon, when the sun was reflecting pink and purple splotches on the walls and he was contently dissecting each curl, his heart so full it could explode, he said it. ‘I wanna do this forever.’

He felt her chuckle. ‘Inspecting my hair like a monkey, or…?’

Luke squeezed her closer. ‘C’mon, Jules.’

Her giggles quieted, chin sliding up his chest to look at him. If she found devotion shimmering behind the green, she was correct. He hoped that the warm flickering in her brown ones was the same. 

Her voice was small. ‘You do?’

He nodded, every movement too big or too loud, afraid it would ruin the perfect quietude surrounding them. The room melted away, her face all that was left. Before he let the tug in his chest (the same thread that looped them in this embrace) guide him closer, she got there first. Julie surged upwards, barely needing to close any distance to softly find his lips. He cradled her cheek, warmth brimming from every pore on his skin, love pouring from his lips onto hers. It was short and sweet, but their smiles as they did were anything but. It felt like the first flower blooming in spring. Giddy, he kissed her again. He loved her. (It was inevitable.) 

Julie hummed an unknown melody in his ear, lilting and just as giddy, her fingers circling right above his heart. It stammered to blend with hers. Luke met her gaze, noses brushing and smiles private and eyes adoring. She loved him. (It was inevitable.)

‘Then let’s do it forever.’