#why do i keep letting people borrow stuff

[becomingmina]

thanks for the clarification ♡

so here is the thought I had

hyunjin and reader being each other's crush but absolutely idiotic about it so they don't know the other's feelings

they have common friends that are sick of the tension between the two. one decides to tell hyunjin, the other suggests the reader to do something to make hyunjin jealous so she can find out if he likes her. (boring I know)

one time when everyone's around, she flirts with jisung or something idk and she gets too touchy so hyunjin is annoyed af. pulls her away to somewhere private and voila, they've confessed in the best way possible 😌🌸

CRUSH. anon request w/ HYUNJIN.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hyunjin x female reader genre + warnings: friends to lovers, smut mdni!, oral (both f & m receiving), hyunjin calls reader kitten, semi-public wc: 5.4k mina's note: Anon also wanted to throw ‘kitten’ in it (my fav pet name 👀) Also I really enjoyed writing this & love how much details you put on the request!! My box is open for feedback 💓

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

You don’t know how you got in this situation but here you are; staring at your friend who is currently playing basketball, topless. Well, you’re more like drooling over him.

He just looked so good, so hot. His tall, lean, milky body just running around on the court covered in a thin layer of sweat. Normally you hate the thought of sweat, but it works for him. It works well for Hwang Hyunjin, actually. He even looks like he smells nice too. You watch as he laughs at the other players, hogging the ball like the main character in some high school drama. Your eyes waver from his pretty smile to his muscular arms to his piercing, which is sitting so perfectly under his eyebrow, then to his burgundy hair.

You pay attention the beads of sweat that trickles from his hair to his chest, dripping down his body. You gulped when you see them land on the area just underneath his belly button. You completely loss your sanity as your eyes covered that area. His treasure trail? Happy trail? Whatever people called it. Why was it so sexy on Hyunjin?

You quickly look away before anyone catches you; you shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Hyunjin is your friend.

When you meet him two years ago in your first year of college, he was just some guy in class you become friends with. He is good looking, but you didn’t find him attractive. There was no chemistry, no tension, no feelings. You don’t know how it started but you find yourself thinking about him every other hour of the day now. You would freeze when someone else mentions his name, blush when he was in close proximity of you and even stutter when he speaks to you.

“Hey.. Hey Y/N,” a voice snapping you out of your thoughts, followed by a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You answered, unaware of who was even calling out to you. You turn your head and there he was, your crush Hwang Hyunjin crouching down next to you, smiling at your blank reaction. You’re used to him towering over you since he was way taller than you but to have him crouched down like this looking at you makes you feel a bit.. timid.

“I’m going to borrow this,” he says dangling your fresh hand towel in-front of you. Oh yeah, the hand towel you carry around in your bag just in case your physical education professor makes you participate in class. The one you won’t let anyone use or even touch.

When they say having a crush makes you do crazy stuff, they do mean it. You were quick to lean him it.

“Huh.. uhh yeah, sure,” you answered, eyes travelling from your towel to his face again.

When you realised you’ve been staring at him longer than you should have, you cough and drop eye contact, making Hyunjin gulped a little bit too loud. “I don’t need it anyways you can keep—”

“—I’ll return it,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wash it first of-course.” You nod your head quietly as you gather up your belongings, getting ready to go to your next class.

“Come on Hyunjin, we are going to be late for class!” Chan, the oldest out of the friend group, calls out to him.

“So.. I’ll see you at lunch then?” Hyunjin says after noticing your quietness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” you mumbled, shooting him a quick glance.

“Bye bro,” Hyunjin says to Minho, giving him a handshake before collecting his bag and going off with Chan.

Minho chuckles at the scene that just unfolded in-front of him; two of his best friends obviously crushing on one another but no one is making a move. Well, it’s not really you and Hyunjin’s fault since you guys don’t know about the other person’s feelings.

“You know he likes you right?” Minho blurted out and you turn your head to his direction.

“Who?” You answered nervously. Did Minho just witness everything?

“Hyunjin,” Minho replies with raised eyebrows, his smug a little bit too cocky for your liking today. You rolled your eyes at him but underneath your skin, you are hot, flustered, embarrassed.

“No way!” you denied. Hyunjin could never like you, he only saw you as a friend.

“He does—”

You scoffed a little bit too fast.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you Y/N?” You can’t tell if Minho was being serious or not.

Minho does have a history of being a joker which makes you think he’s just pranking you. But he also is a very honest friend, he would never joke around with stuff that could potentially hurt you.

“Uhhhh—” you hesitantly reply.

Minho takes in a loud breath, “—I don’t know if you’re genuinely dense or you just don’t want to admit it.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you answered.

“He does,” Minho turns his head behind to look at Hyunjin and you followed. You watch as the two made their way across the field, Chan wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to snatch your towel away from him.

“Oh, you don’t want to give it to me because that’s your girl’s towel?” Chan laughs, basically choking Hyunjin at this point.

“She’s.. she’s not.. my girl..” Hyunjin softly replies in a cough, not sure if he was actually being choked by Chan’s big arms or by choking up at you being called his girl.

“She’s not your girl.. yet?” The older boy teased.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin questioned, hoping Chan didn’t see through him.

Chan looked back at you and Minho who was still sitting by the basketball court. You swiftly turn back to Minho, hoping Chan didn’t catch you starring at Hyunjin.

“Trust me,” Minho said with his smug face, raising his brow to the older boy across the field. “You know how to tell if he likes you?”

You stay quiet. You were curious but didn’t want to seem like it, so you just raised your eyebrow. Tell me, tell me Lee Minho!

“Make him jealous,” Minho says lifting his chin to Jisung who was currently surrounded by a group of girls shoving their gym towel into his face.

You know what Minho was referring to; that’s how Felix ended up with Nayeon. Minho suggested to Nayeon to make Felix jealous by sitting next to Jisung at some dinner since he was such a girl magnet. Next thing you know she was pulled away from the table by Felix and they have been together ever since.

You scoffed. It sure worked for them, but you weren’t going to use Jisung like that; he was your friend.

“I’m not going to use Han-Ji like that,” you replied.

“Okay look..” he blinks a little too hard at you. “Just use Han-Ji.. He is also as tired as we all are of you and Hyunjin’s….” He pauses. “..tension..”

“Who is we?” You asked confused.

Who else has been noticing your little crush on Hyunjin? Is what you really wanted to ask your best friend, but you don’t.

“..And there’s no tension between me and Hyunjin.. I don’t know what you talking about,” deny deny deny.

“Everyone in the friend group can feel the tension, you idiot,” the nickname causing you to pout. “Felix, Bin, Min, Lia—”

“—Hyunjin doesn’t like me.”

“Bet?” He was too quick with this. “I’ll let you have bragging rights if he doesn’t like you. But I get the bragging rights if he does,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Both of them sound bad to you. Why would you be happy with bragging rights if Hyunjin doesn’t like you back? It would sting you! And if by chance Hyunjin likes you back, you would hate to deal with Minho’s telling the whole campus he was cupid. What the hell was Minho on?

“What?” He laughed after noticing your face, full of displeasure. “I mean, the worst that could happen is he doesn’t like you back.. But then that means you get bragging rights?” Minho laughs tilting his head to the side. He can read you well.

“Dude you’re insufferable!” You rolled your eyes. He was still looking at you with his smirk.. Oh wait. “What do you mean like me back? I don’t like him,” you denied, it but wasn’t fast enough, he had caught you.

“Sure.. I know everything. Come on, trust me. I’m your best friend,” Minho nudges your shoulders. “Remember the party this weekend? How you rather sit at home and do nothing. Well maybe you should just come. We haven’t seen you out in a while.. Come, and be prettier than this..” he says looking down at your gym wear. You were in baggy sweat shorts and an even baggier t-shirt. “And I’ll help you get with him-”

“—Hey!” you shove his shoulder back. “What’s wrong with me now?!” You look down at your attire. It was gym class anyways of course you would be in this, even if you don’t participate.

“What? Nothing,” he answers playfully. “Come on, we going to be late to our next class!” Minho gets up before opening up his hand to help you up.  “Han-ji, we’re late!”

It was lunch time and you and Han-Ji ditched Minho to go down to the college’s local bakery to get some lunch.

“You’re totally not coming to the party?” Minho asked Hyunjin who was sat at the lunch table, eating his huge burrito. Seungmin, Felix and Chan were also there chiming into the conversation.

“Who’s going?” Hyunjin asked, a mouth full.

“Just the usual.. us. So, Chris, Bin, Jeongin, Yeji.. and then half of the third years are invited,” Hyunjin doesn’t look too interested. Don’t get the wrong idea, he loves his friends and parties, but he had also seen them every single day on campus, so he had no fear of missing out.

“…oh and Y/N says she’s going to come too,” Minho blurted, playing full attention to his friends reaction.

Hyunjin’s ears perks up at your name, his cheeks suddenly growing pink as he looks back at Minho.

“Actually.. I’ll come. Haven’t been had fun in a while,” Hyunjin drops the eye contact when he notices Minho’s sneer. “You want me to bring anything?” Hyunjin continues a little twitchy, playing with his food.

Minho just laughs. This was getting too exciting for him. “Bring your courage!” The rest of the boys laughed.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes at the crowd.

“You like Y/N, don’t you?” Seungmin exclaimed catching Hyunjin by surprised.

“Umm...” Hyunjin freezes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Of course, he likes you, but he didn’t want to admit knowing the boys were definitely going to tease him even more for it. But he didn’t want to say no just in case they spin it around to say he doesn’t like you at all as a friend.  

“Don’t worry bro, she likes you too,” Minho break the silence. Hyunjin’s heart stop at his best friend’s words. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that.

“Really? She likes me back?” Hyunjin replies promptly, a sheer smile pulling on his face. He was definitely blushing.  

“Back.. So you do like her?” Chan torments Hyunjin again and Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded form his face. They had caught him too.   

“Hey Y/N!” Felix calls out and the rest of the boys look over Hyunjin’s shoulder. He wanted to spin back to check but he didn’t want the boys to play more into his eagerness, so he just freezes looking straight at them.

“Hi Lix!” Your voice calls from behind him.

“Come here! Hurry!” Felix continues to make conversation with you.

“Bro just ask her out already, we’re all tired of the tension,” Chan quickly expresses.

“What tension?” Hyunjin was desperate to see what they had to say before you got to the table.

“Sexual tension,” Seungmin whispers and everyone goes silence, pressing their lips trying to hold back their smile.

“There’s no tension between me and—”

“—Okay you say there’s so tension? I guess Han-Ji can make his move then,” Minho interrupted, surprising Hyunjin again.

“Does Han-Ji likes Y/N—"

“—Shh she’s behind you,” Chan shushes the younger boy up before he could finish his sentence.

“Hey..” Hyunjin says timidly before you could even sit down.

“Hey..” you replied back, climbing over the bench so you can sit next to him. The whole group watches as Hyunjin blushed at your proximity. “Sit here,” you pat the area on the other side of you for Jisung to sit.

“Coffee and pastries for lunch? That place is like a 10 minute walk,” Chan askes from across the table.

“It’s okay, Han-ji keeps me company,” you say as you nudge Jisung a little bit and you both open up your pastry bag.

Hyunjin glances at you from aside, he stays quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t expect his boys to catch on about his feelings for you and he didn’t expect Minho to blurt out that you like him back. Hyunjin is also confused after seeing how close Han-Ji is to you too, he never really questions your close relationship until now. Does Han-Ji actually like you? Thoughts flood his brain as he continues to eat his burrito.  

You rushed home from your last Friday class to get ready for the party. You threw on one of your mini sun dress, pairing it up with some sandals and a cross body bag before collecting your black cardigan and rushing out to Yeji who was ready in the living room waiting to do some pre-party shots with you.

You and Yeji tipsy-ly made it to the loudest house on the street. Lee Minho’s residency. It was only 8pm and it was already crowded. She held your hand and clumsy pulls you through dim-lit hallways packed with people before reaching the living room. There they were, all of your friends in the living room with a drink in their hand, conversing with one another.  

“There they are!” Seungmin yells as he sees you and his girlfriend. He quickly makes his way to rip Yeji off you, pulling her into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Wow, my best friend finally came to one of my parties!” Minho appears out of no where handing you a beer.

“I was here two months ago Min..” You playfully rolled your eyes. “When you and Nayeon vomited everywhere and me and Felix had to bathe you guys.. naked,” you refreshed his memory.

“I remember.. Crazy night..” Minho laughs. He stops to look you up and down before grabbing your shoulders. “Very pretty Y/N. You planning to make someone jealous?” He complimented before getting back to his little mischiefs.

“Maybe,” you answered looking around the room. You hadn’t seen Hyunjin yet and Minho notices.

“Your boy is hella tipsy by the way, he keeps telling me he’s nervous but won’t tell me why,” Minho informs you.

“He’s not my boy.”

“Sure.. okay, anyways so not your boy is currently staring at you from behind,” Minho also announced as he stares at Hyunjin from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s heart stops at your presence. He has always found you pretty but tonight, he found you extremely gorgeous. Maybe because tonight was the night, he was going to let you know about his feelings. He takes another sip of his drink, pondering how he’s going to pull you away. He wanted to find the perfect timing, he didn’t want to do it too early just in case you reject him, and he has to go home early.

He watches you as you make your way to Jisung who was currently sat on the tiniest fucking armchair he had ever seen.

“Han-Ji!” You were going to follow Minho’s instructions; you either leave tonight with Hyunjin or rejected by Hyunjin but with bragging rights.

“Hey Y/N, you look like you had a couple of drinks already,” Jisung says as he touches his owns cheeks to indicate where your pink complexion was. You nodded bashfully to your friend before getting up on the arm of the chair to sit.

“It’s wet there, I just spilled my drink there. Come here,” Jisung stops you before you could sit. He pulled your arm so you can squeeze next to him on the tiny fucking armchair. You hope Hyunjin was watching.

“You okay?” Jisung asks cupping your face to lean your head against his shoulder - he knows how tired you get when you drink.

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes as you continue to converse with your friend.

Hyunjin was still watching everything from the other side of the room. His hand was wrapped around his drink tightly, expressing his annoyance at the skin-ship and at himself for not pulling you away the second you got here, like he wasn’t waiting all night just for you to arrive. He starts to feel a little jealous now that your attention is on Han-Ji. And maybe Minho was right, and Han-Ji does have feelings for you.

He had to do it. He had to pull you away and ask why you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you all this time. He feels himself grow hot, he was feeling tense.

Hyunjin takes in a deep breath before downing the drink, squeezing his cup on the process. The plastic from the red cup causes disturbance making the boys turn their head at their friend.

“You good, pretty boy?” Changbin asks noticing the change in Hyunjin’s demeanour, taking the red cup out of his hand.

“Yeah, just need some air,” Hyunjin says running a hand through his fluffy red hair as he makes his way to you.

“Can we talk?” Someone askes from above you and you instantly open your eyes, locking eyes with them.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you finally see him. He had on some baggy jeans with a black t-shirt, one sleeved rolled up complementing his muscular arm. God, he looked so hot; you feel yourself drooling over him again.

“Okay.” You answered softly.

“Come,” he says, grabbing a hold of your hand making you get up from the chair. You heart start to flutter at his brace. Was it happening now? Is Hyunjin jealous?

He guides you through the crowd of people in the living room before dragging you up the stairs and towards Minho’s bedroom. He lets you enter first before locking the door behind him.

Your eyes wonder around Minho’s bedroom - his room was dark, quite clean, quite quiet for such a loud guy. You scoff to yourself quietly at the contrast. As you spin around the room, Hyunjin watches you and smiles at your cuteness before getting back to his senses of why he pulled you here in the first place.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly.

“Hmm? Not quite yet,” you answered, making your way into Minho’s ensuite. “Why?” You asked so he can follow you, just testing the waters.

You placed your bag on the counter before digging through it trying to find your lipstick.

“What are you doing then?” Hyunjin asked towering behind you looking at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You glance up at him to ask before going through your bag again, acting like you had no idea what was going on, even though your heart was beating just as fast as his.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Yep, he saw everything.

“I wasn’t on him?” You lied.

“Y/N.” He was getting a little be frustrated at your replies, you were obviously up to something.

“Why does it matter to you anyways—”

“—It’s making me jealous.” Hyunjin interrupted you making you glance up at him again. Minho’s plan was working. Minho was right.

You spin around to face him and finally, you can feel the tension everyone was talking about. He likes you. You feel your heart beating rapidly as he stares into your eyes. Your breathing becomes heavier as he takes another step towards you. You try to keep eye contact just to see if he drops it first, but he doesn’t. Your eyes drop first, to his lips then up to his eyes then back to his lips. They looked so full, so soft. Wouldn’t be crazy if you guys just kissed?

“Hyunjin?” You say above a whisper, lips forming into a pout right after. Hyunjin found you so precious looking up at him like this.

His resting face rapidly turns into a smirks now as he watches your eyes flicker to his lips. He knew what you wanted; he knows how you feel now. “Hmm?” He questioned, just to tease you a little bit.

“Can you just kiss me already?” You say, not begging but with a hint of desperation. You like him and you just confirmed he likes you, what were you guys waiting for?

He chuckles before his hand comes up to your face, cupping it for a second then he leans and kisses you. His lips felt so soft, so warm just like how you imagined them felt. You couldn’t explain the feeling, it was like you were in dream, it’s incredible.

Soon Hyunjin deepens the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth as one of his hand keeps your face in place, the other snaked down your body to your waist. Your tongue swiped against his lips, and you tasted a bit of lemonade and tequila. If this was a way to drink tequila, then you were all for it.

“Up,” he pulls away to say and you listen jumping onto the counter with the help of his grip. You spread your legs so he can stand in between them. He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t control his smile.

“You didn’t answer me..” he says as his hands find their way under your dress just resting on your thighs.

“Hm?” You whimpered, wanting his lips back on yours.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Hyunjin asked again, a little lower, a little more raspier now that he’s more confident to dominate you.

“To make you jealous,” you whisper back to him, admitting to all your little shenanigans.

“Why?” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“To see if you like me back.” You say, and his ears perked up at your words.

“You got your answer?”

“Mhmm..” you admit.

“Good.”

“But.. want to hear you say it,” you reply cheekily, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders to pull him close to you so your lips are barely touching.

He lets out an airy breath before pressing a kiss to your lips, letting it linger on for a little bit just to make your heart flutter once more for him. “I like you,” he says, and you try to conceal the smile pulling up on your face. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Where were we?” Hyunjin says and you pull him back onto you.

Maybe it was the pent up sexual tension you both had been holding in as, as soon as your lips were connected again, it became again heated. His hands are fondling with your thighs, and his tongue is slipped back down your mouth. You feel a hot sensation making its way to your core, a moan slipping from your lips. He smirked in between the kisses, his hands inching up higher now hiking you dress up.

Hyunjin continues his kisses down your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting him cover more area with his lips.

As he harshly sucks on your neck, your hands start to explore his body, caressing up and down his chest, down his covered stomach. You slowly creep them lower to his hard on that was pressing against the counter, begging to be touch. He lets out a groan at the contact.

“Hyunjin?” you whimpered at how stiff he was. You both wanted more but not on this cold bathroom counter. “Are we actually doing this here?” You ask.

“Where else would you do it?” Hyunjin looks down at you his a raised eyebrow, his hands stopping at your hips.

You look around before cheekily suggesting, “Minho’s bed,” and he cracks up.

“Come,” he takes a step back to hold your hand as you jump off the counter.

Hyunjin pulls you back onto him as he sat back on Minho’s bed - it was comfier than he expected, it was actually quite comfy to fuck on actually.

“You’re such a good kisser, it making me so horny,” He says, gripping your thighs so you’re straddling him. You feel his hard-on abusing your core and you become like jelly, draping yourself onto him. God, it was also making you so horny.

Are you both really gonna fuck in your best friend’s bed? Probably.

“Hyunjin?” You start to suck on his neck, returning the marks he gave you. “Wanna blow you… can I?” You asked, rolling your hips onto his.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure, halting your hips. “Fuck— kitten..” The pet name slipping from his lips, making you stop whatever you were doing to look him in the eyes. Did he just call you kitten? And did you like it?

“Yeah? Wanna be a good kitten? And suck me off right here in your best-friend room?” He teased after seeing your eyes lit up at the name.

“Yes.. wanna be a good kitten,” you replied, lifting his shirt to slowly to expose his abs, your hand lazily runs across his milky body.

You shuffled back, kneeling down by the bed before peeking at his happy trail. You finally got to see it up close, and you didn’t waste anytime before attaching your lips to it. Hyunjin’s hand flung to hold onto your hair and he lets out a groan as you suck the skin around his navel.

“You’re just like a kitten, nipping into me like that,” he moans.

“You love it,” you teased him.

“Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

“Was it driving you insane?” He torments and you murmured nodding your head.

“God, kitten… need your mouth now, I’m might cum untouched,” he begs and you chuckle, blowing hot air from your mouth at his skin causing him to flinch.

You give him what he wants. You undo his jeans, shimmering it down his thighs before palming him through his boxer.

“Y/N, please..” he begs again, closing his eyes to hold in his release.

“You’re so big,” you say the second you pull down his boxer letting his red rock solid dick slap across his stomach. You didn’t expect him to be him to be this big, this thick. You gulp at it before wrapping your hands around him. “Wanna taste..” you blabbered as you brought his tip to your lips.

Hyunjin’s head kick back as you wrap your lips around his head. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he starts to set the pace, and you let him. He pushes you down taking half his length into your mouth before guiding you back up. You moan as he slides down your mouth, unable to control the pleasure you were having from just giving him head. Once you go match his pace, Hyunjin lets go of his grip and runs his through your hair, endlessly praising you as he tries to keeps himself together.

“You’re so good—” he sucks in another breath.

You take him fully into your mouth and gagged once he hits the back of your throat. “Ahh, cuming- cuming—” he lets out a low grunt as he paints your throat white. You swallow the warm thick liquid before letting go of him with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re so perfect. Such a good mouth,” he says finding your arm and pulling up to sit on his lap.

“Can I return the favour?” His hand wrapped around your hips, his finger carefully gathering the fabric of your skirt so he can expose your panties.

“I don’t know if I can keep quiet Hyunjin,” you admitted. You can still hear the loud music outside, even if it was muffled by the walls but a part of you’re still afraid someone might hear you. You couldn’t even keep it in while making out, nor sucking him off, you don’t know how you’ll be if you guys actually have sex.

“But I can’t leave you high like this,” Hyunjin replies, his two fingers just touching the fabric of your panties that was getting soaked by your wetness. You kick your head back at the pleasures “I just know you’re wet from sucking me off.. Let me, let me just eat you out..” he begged, his eyes turned dark full of lust.

“Please,” you gave in, out of breath.

Hyunjin plants a kiss to your neck before laying you down on the bed.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Hyunjin says the second he lifts up your dress and sees the huge wet patch on your underwear. He kneels down and peels it off, watching a thin line of your wetness pulls off with it. Hyunjin spreads your legs wider and his eyes rolls to the back of his head as exposes you. You were wet, glistening, it was so hot to him.

You let out a moan as the cold from Minho’s room brushed against your core. “Please, need your mouth,” it was your turn to beg.

Hyunjin complies and attached his lips to your pussy. “Ahh! Mhmm.. More..” you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know if you can keep quiet.

Hyunjin buries his face deeper as he contents to lick all over you, his nose rubbing against your clit. He was basically pussy drunk at his stage, gripping and pulling your hip closer to his faces. Your head falls back as you feel the pleasure building up in your core, your thighs volunteering closing around his head to add more pressure.

“I’m going cum, please.. Hyunjin— gonna cum..” you whine as he harshly sucks on your clit now, it was basically the cheat code in making you cum and he was able to get it the first time.

You moaned as you feel a glush of wetness explode from your core, you had cum. Hyunjin can tell you’re orgasming but he didn’t want to stop, you were too addicting.

You had to rip him off of you before you were overstimulated. “Hyunjin, too much,” you whined and he finally lifts his head.

“You taste too good kitten, sorry couldn’t stop,” he says and he wipes your wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it.

“Come here,” he jumps on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He runs his finger through your hair as you recover. You both stare at each other for a while before falling into a fit of giggles. How crazy is it that you were each other’s crush and not realising it.

“Should we go back out?” He asked smoothing down your hair.

“I have to touch up my lipstick first,” you say, pecking his nose.

“Let me help you,” he pulls you up from the bed before back hugging you to the bathroom where your bag was.

“Back to mine tonight, okay?” He reminded you softly as he wipes your lipstick in your lips - a hint of innocence radiating from him like he didn’t just lap up all your juices like a greedy animal.

“Of course, I have no where else I rather be tonight,” you answered, grinning from ear to ear at your pretty boy.

“Can’t believe it took you to squeeze into that tiny chair with Han-Ji for me to tell you,” Hyunjin beats himself up.

“It’s okay Hyunjin, I reckon the timing was perfect,” you reassured.

The house was packed now than before, it took you and Hyunjin a while to squeeze through all the people. Minho watch as you both hold hands, happily, making your way down the stairs, his smug pulling back on his face.

“Who got the bragging rights?” Minho asks cheekily as you both walk past him.

“You.” You answered rolling your eyes and Hyunjin laughs.

“You also got a messy bed too, bro,” Hyunjin taps Minho by the shoulders before following you.

Minho was left mouth agape as he stares up at the stairs. “Did they just…”

[yuri-is-online]

Out With the Old (Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle x Yuu)

"Look I would get rid of this thing if I could afford a new sweatshirt." You drag the offensive article of clothing over your head completely missing the spark of curiosity and mischief in your companion's eye. "I've got a lot of bad memories associated with this."

"If it's that uncomfortable we can go look for a replacement instead of-"

"Oh no not like that, it's super comfy. I just don't like it because it technically belongs to my ex."

notes: they/them used for Yuu, some questionable behavior from Floyd and Jade because who else? This is meant to be crack. Second part can be found here (x)

Riddle- "THAT'S LITERALLY ILLEGAL???"

He is too focused on hyperventilating because it sounds like you just admitted to a crime in front of him to even think about offering you one of his sweaters. Trey and Cater have to break it down for him unpaid therapist style that no, you are not wearing stolen property (probably), borrowing clothes is just something people in relationships often do. He then further needs it explained that no, you are not still in a relationship and since you want to get rid of the shirt it sounds like things ended poorly. His friends want to try and suggest he should give you an article of his clothing to replace the offending one but he's so focused on getting you something that matches dress code that they decide to quit while they're ahead. Literally.

Trey- "You know you can always ask us if you need help, right?"

Vil's right about Trey's tendency to fuss and spoil people being a bit of a flaw; he's in tune enough with his emotions to know that he should not, for his own sake, give you one of his old sweatshirts without being honest about why he wants you to wear it. But he can't exactly deny his instincts when it comes to the people he cares about. You're cold and uncomfortable, what sort of guy would he be if he just left you all alone? Just please don't brush this off with a comment about how much of a big brother or mother hen he is; it is already going to be pure torture trying to look at you in his things in a Queen of Hearts honoring way. He doesn't need an added complex on top of it.

Cater- "Oh honey no."

Cater doesn't like keeping stuff his exes gave him either, but luckily for him he's never been in a position where that's literally only the stuff he had on him. Speaking of things, he buys a bunch of clothes off magicam he barley has time to take the tags off of before the trend goes stale. You guys should totally ditch what you were planning to do today and have a little fashion show in his room. It'll be cute and he can get a bunch of cammable shots! Just ignore the pop music club hoodie he refuses to take back because it looks "so much cuter on you." <3

Ace- "That's extremely lame prefect."

He isn't blind; you're cute and poor. Anyone would jump at the chance to let you steal a hoodie, besides Ace isn't insecure enough to be super jealous of someone you clearly hate. He knows you well enough to tell when you are silently wishing death on someone, it's all in the vocal tone. But damn if this new bit of information doesn't make things tricky. He already makes a big fuss about not needing to focus on dating right now, and with that iconic sweatshirt of yours technically belonging to an ex it's not like he can just slide you one of his without making it super obvious what he's doing. Looks like you're just going to have to take some extra teasing for a bit prefect, it's his preferred method of cope.

Deuce- "You've been here for how long and the Headmage hasn't given you any clothes?!?!"

Deuce is a good egg whose primary concern is almost always your well being. He tends to act before his common sense and emotions can catch up with his thought process, and that's exactly what happens here. The concept of you dating someone is just so... foreign to him. Not because he thinks your undesirable! It's just that you guys are always hanging out, you not being around makes him feel a bit funny inside, and not in a good way. He doesn't mention that to his mom when he texts her asking if she has any of his old clothes laying around, but she definitely knows what's on his mind. Why else would she have sent his old delinquent jacket?

Leona- "Well that explains why it smells like shit."

Let the record show that Leona is in fact, lying to you. Your clothes don't smell like anything other than you and maybe some of the musk floating around Ramshackle Dorm, but that doesn't stop you from pulling the fabric and taking a good sniff. To Leona, all this really suggests is that you've been over the person long enough that you don't care about keeping their scent around anymore. Sure, a tiny thought does worm it's ugly way into his inferiority complex that "oh they liked someone else" but his equally large ego immediately slams the emphasis on "liked" and starts thinking about how to get his scent on you. He doesn't really own too many jackets like the one you're wearing, but he does have some nice silk scarfs he could wrap you up in. Much classier than whatever trash you had previously been going out with.

Ruggie- "You wanna toss it my way then?"

Clothes are clothes are clothes, you don't see Ruggie acting like his uniform is still Leona's just because that's who originally bought it. If you are really bothered by the memories of your ex, he's willing to listen and make fun of them, assuming that will make you feel better, but this won't make him jealous. That emotion is reserved for when you share food with other people. He is dead serious about taking the sweatshirt if you don't want it, as far as he's concerned that shirt belongs to you, and he wouldn't mind having an excuse to blend your wardrobes a little bit. It would make you even closer to being a real member of his pack.

Jack- "You can just take mine."

Jack's strong sense of justice and firm moral code are definitely his only motivations for offering you one of his sweatshirts. Forcing a student to wear clothes they find uncomfortable and associate with negative memories just because they didn't have the foresight to pack something they did like for a school they didn't know they would be attending is beyond unfair. That's what he tells himself anyway, and it's not like he isn't upset on your behalf, but it's plain as day to anyone that he wants to prove that you can rely on him; he's not like that other person, he doesn't mind being alone together with you.

Azul- "If your finances really are in such dire straights you know I could-"

Revealing personal information in Azul's presence is asking to be offered a deal. Sure that little complaint might have been insignificant to you, but for Azul? He's having a full blown Sherlock style breakdown going on in his head trying to decide what his angle is. 1) The prefect has dated in the past and doesn't look on that experience favorably. Does this prevent them from dating again? Needs further analysis. 2) Giving articles of clothing is an acceptable form of human courtship, even if used. Or is it especially if used? 3) Can he convince you to burn this if he gets you a replacement or is that too petty? 4) More importantly does this mean you have a type? And how does he press for that information without appearing desperate?

Jade- "Oh? Well that sounds extremely annoying."

Jade Leech is first and foremost a messy bitch who lives for other people's misery. Sure, he is reasonably certain he's in love with you at this point, but that doesn't matter. You have a story that's filled with second hand embarrassment and a bone to pick besides he is nothing if not an enthusiastic audience. The thought of you wearing clothes that he owns wasn't something he would have thought of himself, merfolk don't typically wear them so dating customs that involve them are a bit foreign to him. He would much rather just bite you. Or give you some jewelry. both he wants to do both

Floyd- "PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME"

The instant you say that sweatshirt is from an ex he is taking off whatever shirt he is currently wearing and trying to tug off yours. Yes, even if it is his basketball jersey, and yes even if he just got back from practice. Isn't the scent supposed to be the point? He knows you miss him when he's gone, and he can get you something nicer out of his closet later. Just remember to tell everyone, even and especially if they don't ask, who gave it to you. Floyd's... nice? Enough? To not immediately burn your sweatshirt but it's up for debate if that's because he's actually being nice or if he just wants a trophy.

[00-jammy-00]

Helloo!!^_^

Could I request a yan who everyone likes? Like nobody would suspect yan!

I guess golden retriever!yan? Maybe darling tries to say something but nobody believes them because they think darling is trying to ruin yan’s reputation ? :33

Btw could I be 🍯 anon?

Yan!GoldenBoy HC’s

Yan!GoldenBoy x GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, obsession, murder, nsfw mentions, possessiveness, stalking, yan has mood swings, he’s a little bitch.

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Yan!GoldenBoy who was good looking. He could get anything he wanted with a hand through his hair and a flash of his charming pearly whites. He knew he was handsome, he knew people trusted him, he knew all this and he knew it would only make it easier to get you.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who has been obsessed with you for months! He was playing basketball for his school when he saw you for the first time. You were just sitting on the benches, none of that cringe ‘they were reading a book instead of paying attention.’ you were simply watching the game but you looked so radiant while doing it, he couldn’t help but rush over when the game finished.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who tripped over his own feet to chase you down near the exit, he put an arm around your shoulders and flashed that charming smile. He talked to you for a few minutes, making sure to totally not brag about the fact he was the captain of the basketball team, he was really humble you know?

Yan!GoldenBoy Who offered you a car ride home with those gorgeous honey coloured eyes yet was completely shocked when you said no. You said…no? What the fuck does no mean? Who the fuck do you think you are?! You’re lucky he doesn’t fucking kill you!

Yan!GoldenBoy Who just gives you a sweet smile and insists only to clench his jaw when you refuse again. God you’re making this so fucking hard, you’re gorgeous, you’re everything, which means you’re meant to be his for fucks sake.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who vows he’ll never leave you alone. You’re destined to be his, you’re perfect, he’s perfect, so you have to be together, you’re soulmates! He uses a few favours to find out everything about you. Your address, who your family is, where you work, your favourite brand, what your favourite scent is, your zodiac sign, blood type, what hospital you were born at, what cemetery you might want to get buried at. You know, the usual stuff.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who is practically drooling as he jerks himself off to your underwear which he had…borrowed…from your house on his last so called visit. He had cum so much he was having dry orgasms babe! Why do you still not want him?! He could be so good for you!

Yan!GoldenBoy Who sits in his nice car with a pair of binoculars to make sure nothing strange is happening in your room. He’s just keeping you safe, what if someone comes around and tries to steal you?! Don’t worry, your boyfriend is here for you, he’ll protect you. Your boyfriend…god just the idea of being your boyfriend makes him hard all over again.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who doesn’t care if he has to beat the shit out of some people. Your classmate was found with a ripped open chest and a missing heart? That’s terrible babe, but he can be your lab partner now! That one annoying bitch in your class had a bullet between her eyes and her heart missing just like your classmate? How tragic! Don’t worry, you’re safe with him.

Yan!GoldenBoy Who delivers special presents to your door every time a little rat decides to try and ruin his plans. Maybe if he gifts you the hearts from his victims, you’ll let him into yours <3

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[turvi]

Yo what about just sittin on Rodrick’s lap as he discusses stuff with the band

Thanks for the request

Rodrick munched on the snacks that he stole borrowed from Greg's secret stash that he shared with his friends as they lounged on the living room couch, Evanescence playing on his tv.

His friend Adam mumbled. "Rodrick, will we get famous like that?" Rodrick looked up at the tv as he finally got time free from munching snacks.

"Adam, I can see it. In 10 years, people will fly from all over the world just to see us perform. We will do actual world tours." His friends looked at him, smiling as he continued.

Rodrick stood on his couch. "We will tour South America, Europe, and Asia." His friends cheered, but a particular cheer caught his attention. He turned around to see his girl Y/n clapping for him. He leapt over the couch, picked her up without effort, and twirled her around. "And you, my sweet girl, will manage our band."

Y/n put her hand on her chest. "It will be an honour, rockstar."

Rodrick couldn't help but blush. He loved it when Y/n would take pride in his music and would talk about it with her friends. He thanked his lucky stars that he found her.

"You got real quiet there. What are you thinking?" Y/n whispered as she fixed his hair.

"I am so lucky that you love me. You have always supported me, always been so kind to me. Although you can get annoying when I don't shower." He cupped her face, dodging her fingers as she tried to tickle him.

"Come on, sit with me, doll. Watch as history happens." Rodrick tugged her to where he was sitting with his friends. They all greeted her with a smile and went back to suggesting titles for their songs. He smirked when she sat on his lap, pecking her cheek as he started discussing song titles with his friends.

................................................................................

Y/n suddenly woke up and realised it had got dark outside. She looked around and realised she was still sitting on Rodrick's lap. She looked up and smiled as her heart was filled with love as she saw him sleeping peacefully.

She started to get up, but Rodrick's grip on her waist tightened. Y/n pinched his nose as a smirk spread on his lips. Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Greg is at Rowley's home, and Mom and Dad have taken Manny to Grandma's home. It's just you and me at home right now," he smirked as he wrapped her arms around her waist.

"What are you planning?" Y/n asked as the back of her finger brushed his cheek.

"Just stay with me. We don't have to do anything. I just want to hold you." His chocolate-brown eyes looked at her, pleading for her to stay.

Y/n nodded. "Ok. I'll stay, and you can rant about Greg all you want."

She felt like she fell more in love with him as his face lightened up and he held her closer to him. Y/n heard him taking a deep breath as she laid her head on his chest.

She looked up at him. "Is something bothering you?"

Rodrick's eyes widened. It always took him by surprise how she always took him by surprise how she would know how he really felt. He sighed, trying to find the correct words to say.

"I made pretty big promises in front of my friends. But what if we don't fulfil those promises."

Y/n realised he was getting insecure. "Now, it's not just your dream to do a world tour, Rodrick. It's your goal. It's one of your biggest goals. Take one step at a time. Do your shows locally, get a professional manager, and keep working on your music...there are so many things to do, Rodrick, and you have just started. So please don't give up." she kissed him as she held his hand, letting him know she was there for him.

Rodrick broke the kiss. He needed to see her, to take her beauty in. "I don't deserve you." He breathlessly mumbled against her lips before kissing her again. "I love you so much." he peppered kisses all over her face. He had to let her know how much he loved her.

"And I love you too, rockstar." Y/n kissed him back as a promise to be with him through thick and thin.

A/N: I know I am late sorry. I got busy anyways I hope you like it. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[whorergal]

SHE'S MINE

summary: you get attacked by ghostface but another ghostface comes in and saves you…

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore… typical horror stuff lol

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: this is my first ever imagine (and post) on here so i hope u like it >.< i want to write more so i’ll try to be active especially for ethan. also, this is pretty short so i wouldn't mind writing a part two :3

❗️: part three can be found here!

———————————————————————————

You weren't in much of a party mood unlike the rest of your friends. Really, you haven't been in the exact mood in doing much anymore. Ever since Woodsboro, you had lost a part of yourself in the tragedy that haunted you. It was unusual especially since it was nearing Halloween, your favorite holiday, that you didn't want to participate in dressing up and getting drunk as a reward. You decided to stay inside your apartment that you shared with Anika, catching up on homework that you had missed.

Tara had made it her job to text you every so often, casually updating you on the party. After a couple more short texts, they started to become more and more hard to understand which made you laugh. At least someone was having fun.

When you sat aside your phone, trying to keep all your attention on finishing your notes, your phone began to ring. You furrowed your brows when you took a glance and saw it was coming from an unknown caller. Immediately you became paranoid. You let it ring until it ended, shaking it off as a coincidence.

Ghostface was gone. There was no possible way it could've followed you and your friends to New York City. Right?

Your phone began to ring again.

Maybe it was Tara, you thought. You knew she was drunk so maybe something happened and she was borrowing someone's phone. But why wouldn't she just use Mindy's or Anika's? You tried not to think about rational answers because you didn't want to feel stupid for answering the call when you knew you shouldn't have.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Hello, Y/N," the familiar voice said back. "You miss me?"

You should've known. Well, you did know; you were just stupid enough to think otherwise. "Fuck, no," then you hung up.

Instantly, you opened your contacts and went straight for Tara's number. But, then you remembered she was absolutely hammered which meant she probably wouldn't be much help in your situation.

You scrolled mindlessly until you landed on Ethan's contact, clicking on it instantly, seeing as he was someone you confided in the most. Mindy had already told everyone her plan tonight was to get shit-faced so you weren't confident in her being able to aid you in this; neither could you count on Anika as she would be with her.

It rang for a couple short seconds which felt like eternity for you, being panicked and all. You were relying on him answering because you weren't sure how long you had until something happened.

Luckily, he answered in confusion. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"E, I need you to come to my place now," you let out in a complete rush, the words almost slurred together.

"What?" he questioned. "Y/N/N, I can barely hear you. Are you okay?"

"Ethan, he called me. Ghostface called me."

The line went silent, only the sound of loud music and people hollering. That was until your phone began to vibrate against your cheek, startling you. You brought it down to your line of vision and saw it was the unknown caller. Or, should you say, whatever fucked up person that was behind the mask.

"Y/N, can you hear me?!" His voice came out in distress, worried something happened to you. "Hey, Chad and I heading over right now! Y/N?!"

"They're calling again," you stated simply.

"Don't answer it!" He was practically yelling into his phone at this point because he knew exactly what you were going to do. It was what almost got you killed in Woodsboro.

You didn't listen to him, deciding to hang up on him and use your remaining courage to answer the call. If you survived once, you sure as hell can survive again.

"What the fuck do you want?" You spat in anger.

"You hang up on me again and I'll paint your bedroom walls in your blood," they rushed out. "It would be a shame for your friends to find your mutilated lifeless body, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck you." You held back your wavering because although you weren't afraid, their descriptive threat made you nauseous.

"How about we play a game?"

"How about you fuck off."

"It's an easy game, Y/N," they told you. "You answer correctly and I may consider sparing your life."

You scoffed, getting up from your bed. "Fine. I'll play your stupid game."

"Great." There was a short pause. "Where in your apartment do you think I'm at?"

The confidence crumbled as now you started to feel the rising fear bubbling in your chest. "What?"

"You heard me," they said. "Where. Am. I?"

"Fuck," you mumbled to yourself. "Why don't you just come and get me, asshole? Are you too afraid?"

"The opposite." Their voice came out hushed.

Then, your bedroom door flung open, hitting harshly against your wall that it left an indent. Ghostface came running toward you, knife rose in the air, intending to plant it into your skin but you managed to dodge their attack, shoving them onto your bed as you made your escape.

You didn't get too far as they grabbed ahold of your ankle, making you face-plant into your wooden flooring. If the pain of hitting your head against the hard surface wasn't enough, the sheer agony rippling through your leg at the feeling of their knife digging into your calf was enough to make you scream. When they pulled it out, you grew enough strength to kick them in the face as you struggled to get up, finding all your energy diminishing.

Attempting to make a run for it didn't turn out well as you heard their footsteps catch up to you, causing you to throw yourself out of the way for their knife to go straight through the door.

Your apartment was pretty small. I mean, it only housed you and Anika so there wasn't much room needed which ultimately meant there wasn't anywhere else to go. Your kitchen was connected to your living room which was also connected to your hallway. It was all one open space. So, it was no surprise that they caught up to you again.

They managed to tackle you to the floor, holding you in place by stabbing you right where you had been previously, breaking through the stitches. You screamed so loud, you were concerned at the fact that your neighbors hadn't become suspicious at the sound. Where the hell was Ethan?

Them pulling out the knife hurt much worse, causing you to whine in return. But then they stabbed you in your abdomen once more, causing you to let out a choked sob. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to release the tension as you were physically helpless at this point. You reached down, feeling the blood coat your hand as you forced them to pull the knife out of you. Using whatever energy you had left, you kicked them off of you.

You used your entire arm to hold your wounds in place as you turned to crawl away. You weren't surprised to feel them grabbing your ankle, on the leg that had been injured which made it feel ten times worse, and drag you back to them. They flipped you on your back and stared down at you for a second until they began to raise their knife in the air.

Preparing yourself for the worse, you laid there with not much else to do, waiting to be punctured for what you assumed to be the last time ever. That was until they were thrown off of you by someone smacking them in the head with the wooden cutting board Anika used to cook you two dinner. Your eyes felt heavy but you couldn't help but widen them when you saw a second Ghostface, staring down their accomplice instead of you. The sound of the wooden board clattering against the ground caused you to flinch.

The one who had previously been attacking you was shorter than this new figure. You began to crawl away again, seeing as this short distraction gave you that advantage. You were bleeding out quickly, but you didn't want give up just yet.

You made it toward your counter, glancing at them as it seemed they were having a silent conversation. That was until the shorter one attempted to attack the taller one, using their knife but they easily intercepted the stabbing by grabbing ahold of their wrist. The taller one tossed the other one carelessly against your bookshelf, causing all your shared books with Anika to fall at their collapse.

It was funny to think you were now more worried about your books well being than your own.

You cowered behind your counter, carefully watching them in total confusion. The fact one of them was defending you, which seemed to go against their whole purpose, had rendered you frozen.

There was one last silent mutual conversation until the one with the knife shook their head in what you assumed could've been anger before fleeing the scene. You followed their figure until it was gone with wide eyes.

Your breath hitched when the Ghostface that practically saved your life turned to look at you. They didn't come near you, or really move at all as they stared into your soul. There was noise coming from somewhere in the building which caught their attention, making them turn toward your door and run out as well.

You watched in surprise. What the hell just happened?

[frankieburieshisdead]

ℬ𝓇𝓊𝒸ℯ 𝒲𝒶𝓎𝓃ℯ 𝓍 ℳ𝒶𝓁ℯ ℳℴ𝒹ℯ𝓁 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

cw: NSFW

~ You liked modeling enough. It was exciting, and new, and you got to meet a bunch of people you otherwise wouldn't. For instance, if you could go back to the skinny, slightly effeminate brace face in rural Smallsville and tell him he would be hanging off the Bruce Wayne's arm at a promotional after party in Gotham he would laugh in your face. But here you were, and here he was, all 6ft (6'7? 6'8? God he was intimidating) wrapped around your shoulders, two of the girls from the shoot on his other side. You didn't know either of them very well, but they we're kind to you whenever you crossed paths, and it was always nice to see more black models in the industry.

~ So why did you feel so much vitriol towards them? This ugly feeling curling in your stomach every time Wayne leaned slightly towards them, slightly away from you. You chopped it up to star power, pure unadulterated charm that came with being one of the richest men in the Americas, but as long as it had been, you still remembered what it was like it have a crush.

~ It was hard to not have a crush on Bruce Wayne. He was confident, ridiculously so, but not the kind of confidence that made you feel small. When you arrived, he asked you "Do you like dark chocolate? I can't stand the stuff but for some reason people keep giving it to me." You could see he was lying, and that maybe he had just wanted to give you an expensive box of chocolate without making you feel like you owed him anything. It made you feel special.

~ It didn't take him long to invite the whole party back to his manor. His home was beautiful. Like a castle in one of the picture books your gran used to let you borrow from her job at the library. You told Bruce that, and he had smiled so genuinely you hadn't stopped blushing for the rest of the night.

~ You ended up asking yourself up to his bedroom. One of the bottle girls had popped the cork right over you, drenching your pants in sparkling cider. She had been so apologetic, and you hadn't wanted to make a scene, so you stumbled up the stairs in into the nearest unlocked door you could find. You closed the door behind you, stripping out of your soaked jeans to dab them clean in the joining bathroom.

~ "Not that I'm complaining, but I have to say it's not everyday I find pretty boys stripping out their clothes unprompted in my bedroom." You must have jumped about a foot in the air, hiding behind your thread bare trousers. "Oh god Mr. Wayne I'm so sorry, I just needed- there was this champagne girl- and well-"

"Relax, I'm just teasing." You looked at him properly now, his weary tone bleeding past your initial embarrassment. He was propped up against the bedpost, shirtless with one hand clamped firmly over his ribs. There was a mean purple blotch under his fingers, and his chest rose and fell in stutters. He was in pain.

"What happened?" You were across the room the next second, pants forgotten on the floor as you scooted next to him in your briefs. There was a slight blush across his chest and cheeks. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe you were.

"Got into... a brawl. Nothing serious don't worry." You got the feeling he liked that you were worried. You wondered how many people worried about Bruce Wayne. You had seen an older man in butler attire fussing over him when the party first got here. You hoped he was looked after.

"Well... I best get going." You were inches apart now, you could feel his harsh breath against your top lip.

"Best." He replied, curling his lip to mirror your Midwestern accent.

You fell into him first, crashing your lips against his as his arms came to grip your biceps. He lifted you with an insane show of strength, you squealed into his mouth, ending off in a giggle. He gave that genuine smile again.

~ You were straddling him now, grinding down on a ever hardening length. He gasped into your mouth, squeezing almost painfully as he pressed you firmer against him. He was massaging the v on your waist, teasing just above where you wanted him.

"Can I?"

You nodded manically against his shoulder, the both of you generating a frantic energy. He dipped down, palming you through your underwear.

"Protection?" You managed to pant out, remembering every talk your granny had drilled into you since you came out.

"Bedside drawer."

~ 3 hours. You kept going for 3 hours after that. He had taken you, knees pressed up against your shoulders, hitting all the right spots until you had come dry and untouched. He was still hard inside you, panting and you squeezed your way through your orgasm. He was kind, clearly straining to not thrust forward while you were so sensitive. You hooked your legs behind the dip in his waist and tugged him forward. A dare. The result of which had you on your hands and knees panting and keening after your third, fourth? climax. He was good afterwards as well. Sweet. He held your head up as he poured water from a sealed bottle down your throat, petting through your slim locs. You woke up tucked against his side, unsure if he had even slept a wink as he stared down at you. He had to go, but he had arranged one of the cars for you as soon as you wanted to leave. The butler, Alfred, had cleaned and dried your jeans while you were asleep, although Bruce had made it clear you were welcome to his extensive wardrobe. You giggled, imagining getting back to your apartment in a pair of 1000$ tracksuit pants with the ankles rolled up to your calves.

~ When you finally made it back to your apartment, you patted down your jeans, pleading to whoever was listening that you hadn't lost your keys in the chaos of the previous night. Instead, you pulled out a neatly folded parchment paper, thumbing it open to find barely legible handwriting reading:

555-0199

Call me if you liked the chocolate.

END

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Best friend!Coriolanus x Reader, Coriolanus x Best friend!Reader, Academy!Coriolanus x Academy!Reader

You just couldn't believe what happened. Your boyfriend, Livinius Cardew, who was a year older than you, was cheating on you. And you just had to find out by walking in on him and the skank from the University that he was cheating on you with. God, why did you decide to go to Vinny's apartment (that his parents got him whenever he graduated from the academy last year) to surprise him for? Usually you call and see if he's busy or not.

But no…today you decideed to just drop by since you were already in the neighborhood. Well, you were actually in the library working on a project with your best friend, Coriolanus, but decided instead of going home to your Corso apartment you'd go see your boyfriend instead.

Coryo couldn't stand Vinny, but he tolerated Livia Cardew's older brother because he was your boyfriend. The platinum blonde didn't want you ditching him to the curb over some asshole, so he played nice with your boyfriend.

But after tonight, well, he won't be hiding his hatred for the older Cardew sibling anymore.

Of course, after being let inside of Livinius’ apartment by the Avox and finding him in his study getting ridden like a trick pony by some university girl, you ran to the only place you could. Your best friend's penthouse.

You were a wreck, tear stains and mascara rolling down your cheeks, as you frantically knocked on Coriolanus' door. You felt so stupid, felt so heartbroken by being cheated on and just needed your best friend.

Coriolanus had just sat down for a dinner of gloopy mashed potatoes and water cabbage soup with Grandma'am and Tigris whenever a loud frantic knock sounded at the door. Since the Snow family didn't socialize with too many people (due to keeping their status of not having a pot to piss in on the down low) they knew that it could only be one of two people. You or Pluribus Bell, their neighbor.

Standing up, Coriolanus told the women at the table, ‘I'll get it, Grandma'am, Tigris. Just keep eating.”

“Invite whoever it is for dinner. It's not too late for us to include a guest, Coriolanus.” Grandma'am told her grandson before sipping on her watery cabbage broth. Only that old woman would act like they're holding a grand feast instead of eating a bland meal for peasants.

Coryo just nodded and thinly smiled at his Grandma'am, who he felt was growing more delusional by the day. “Of course, Grandma’am.”

“Go on, Coryo, before they break the door down.” Tigris shooed her cousin as the knocks on the door got louder and more frantic.

Honestly, Tigris was getting tired of doing ‘favors’ for the maintenance man in order to borrow tools or electrical tape, etc. She shuddered at the thought of how many ‘favors’ the maintenance man would want to sand out and fix a dented door.

“Y/N, baby, what's wrong? What happened?” Coryo asked as soon as he opened the door and saw you standing in front of him, looking like a heartbroken mess with mascara and tears staining your cheeks. Your eyes, usually so beautiful and bright, were dull and blood shot. And when all Coryo got for an answer was you bursting into years and flinging yourself at him, he knew that somebody hurt you. “Who do I gotta kill?” He seriously asked while wrapping his arms around you; giving you a hug.

A hug that was warm, tight, and protective all wrapped up into one.

“I caught Vinny cheating on me.” You told your best friend as sobs wracked your body.

If Coryo didn't already hate Livinius, well he definitely does now. How could that stupid asshole cheat on you? You're perfect. You're the entire package. Any man would be more than lucky to have you

Then, one thought popped into Coryo's head. The reason why you got cheated on. Coryo and you talked about a lot of stuff, including sex. You knew about how he lost his virginity in some ally behind a club when he was drunk (thanks to a bet by Festus) and he knew that you were on the fence post about going all the way with Livinius. That everytime things should go past foreplay you seemed to get nervous and stop things from going further. So, Coryo figured that Livinius Cardew got tired of blowjobs and handjobs; decided to find some whore to get his dick wet with.

“I hope you broke up with him.” Your best friend told you, because he really didn't want to see you get used and trampled on. Once a cheater always a cheater, or at least that's how the old saying goes.

Nodding against his chest, you sniffled, “Yes, I broke up with him.”

“How about we get you inside and cleaned up in the kitchen; then we'll join Grandma'am and Tigris in the dining room for dinner.” Coriolanus suggested, hoping that eating with him and his family would get your mind off of your recent breakup. Plus his family loves you, they’ll be able to help cheer you up.

Looking up at him through teary eyes, you sadly said, “Okay.”

Coriolanus rubbed your back and assured you, “You're heartbroken now, darling, but it'll mend. It won't hurt forever.” Breaking the hug, because he needed to get you inside of the penthouse, he said, “I'll make sure you forget all about that cheating bastard. We'll hangout, do whatever you want. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, giving your best friend a sad smile.

Wrapping an arm around you, the platinum blonde simply said, “Come on, let's get you cheered up.’, while ushering you into his house.

And cheer you up he did. Coriolanus let you sleep over that night and listened to you vent about Vinny. He sat with you as you cried it out. Then he swore, as your best friend, that he'd never let anyone hurt you ever again.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: Hii! I've been binge-reading all of your stuff and wondered how you'd think RE8 characters would react to lovable idiot reader saying/doing something actually smart for once?

Hehe, just kidding. Anyway, thanks for reading my stuff :) I love this idea! Let’s get into it!

Alcina:

Alcina lounges in her armchair near the fire, a hint of boredom in her eyes as she awaits your company. As silly as you can be, she adores you and hates whenever you two are apart. Thankfully, you finally stroll in. You do have a bit of a mischievous glint in your eyes, though.

“Draga, have you managed to stay out of trouble today?” She inquires, arching an elegant eyebrow.

“Actually, Alci, I’ve been doing some research on the local plants around the castle grounds!” You tell her and go over to give her a kiss. “I know you’re always achy because of the cadou, but apparently a lot of these herbs can help!”

She tilts her head, genuinely intrigued and touched by your thoughtfulness. “Oh? Well, why don’t you tell me more, draga?” She says, picking you up and settling you on her lap to cuddle.

You show her all of your research and Alcina’s eyes widen in surprise.

She feels a little guilty for underestimating your intelligence, but to be fair, you’re not exactly a brainiac. She shakes her head violently as she tries to stop remembering all of the dumb things you’ve done in the past and leans in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “Perhaps there’s even more to you than meets the eye, draga.”

Donna:

You’re hanging out with Donna in her workshop when you manage to stumble upon a rare moment of intelligence.

As you examine one of the dolls, you point out a hidden feature Donna has added to its craftsmanship – A small inlay of the Beneviento crest on the back of its neck. It’s something no one else should have been able to notice.

Donna raises an eyebrow, her usually brooding face holding genuine surprise. “You know, tesoro, most people are too terrified to notice the details,” She giggles in her soft voice.

You grin, feeling a surge of confidence. “Well, I’m not most people, babe. I’ve got an eye for the subtle intricacies of your art!”

Donna tilts her head, considering your words (And blushing wildly). It’s a rare occasion for someone to appreciate her work in such a manner, let alone someone as seemingly clueless as yourself.

“You’ve surprised me, cara mia. Perhaps there is a brain in that head of yours after all,” She teases, her tone a mix of amusement and genuine curiosity.

You feign offense but chuckle, reveling in the fact that you managed to impress the mysterious doll maker. “You bring out the best in me, babe,” You shrug.

Miranda:

You stand before Miranda, trying to suppress your usual goofy grin. You’ve just had a surprising burst of intellect and want to share an idea with your lover.

“Listen to this, Miranda,” You begin, your eyes gleaming. “I’ve been thinking about the village’s resources, and I believe we should start distribution to other nearby settlements to build a stronger economy.”

Miranda blinks rapidly for a few moments, trying to figure out where you learned those words, before speaking. “Well, well,” She muses, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Did you borrow some wisdom from the local livestock today, my dear? Or did you accidentally stumble upon a hidden cache of brain cells?”

You chuckle nervously, aware of your usual reputation for dumbassery. “Maybe I’ve been hiding my genius all along, just to keep you on your toes!”

Miranda raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. “Ah, a mastermind hiding behind the facade of a lovable fool. How intriguing. You’re perfect for me,” She says, nuzzling her nose against yours affectionately.

“I’m no fool! I’m stupid! There’s a difference, babe!” You argue.

Miranda playfully rolls her eyes. “Alright, draga mea. Whatever you say.”

Bela:

You and Bela are cuddling on her bed when you suddenly blurt out something you’ve learned recently (A rare feat).

“Babe, I’ve been researching the architecture of the castle and found out a lot about the Dimitrescu family’s history!”

Bela’s eyes widen comically as she takes in what you just said. She looks at you in disbelief before giggling. “You? Researching? Surely you jest, little one.”

You chuckle, realizing the irony of the situation. “No joke, babe! Turns out I can be smart when I put my mind to it.”

Bela crosses her arms, a sly smirk forming on her lips. “Well, I must say I’m surprised. Tell me more.”

As you continue to share your newfound knowledge, Bela can’t help but be amused by the unexpected display of intelligence from her usually endearing, if not a tad foolish, partner. It seems that beneath your playful exterior, there is a hidden depth waiting to be discovered.

Cassandra:

You find yourself standing in the armory with Cass, surrounded by her impressive collection of weapons. As she inspects a particularly wicked-looking dagger, you decide to seize the moment.

In an attempt to impress Cass, you confidently start spouting off some surprisingly detailed information about the knife’s craftsmanship.

Cass’s mouth hangs open, clearly not expecting such knowledge to come from your lips.

You shrug with a mischievous grin, “I may have a hidden appreciation for sharp things too.”

Cass chuckles, clearly enjoying the unexpected turn of events. She puts the dagger down and playfully pinches your cheeks. “Perhaps I’ve been underestimating my favorite little dummy.”

Your eyes light up at her words. “Does this mean you’ll let me play with that big ass claymore you always talk about?!”

Cass smirks, her eyes glinting. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, darling. I’m just saying that I suppose even an idiot can surprise me every now and then.”

With that, you find yourself drawn into a delightful conversation about the intricacies of each blade. You even end up earning a few kisses from your girl. Nice work, stupid.

Daniela:

While Dani is certainly fun-loving and lighthearted, few know just how much of a bookworm she is. She loves to learn and reads constantly.

You have definitely picked up on this, though. You want to surprise her with some of the things you’ve found out about her favorite authors.

Dani is currently curled up on her bed (Reading of course), And you stroll in with unbridled confidence. You take a look at the book she’s reading, Carmilla, and decide to show off a bit. “Hard to believe that book was written before Dracula. Le Fanu must have really inspired Stoker,” You remark.

Dani’s eyes shoot wide open and the excited smile on her face is precious. “You like Carmilla?!” She squeals.

You scratch the back of your head. To be honest, that’s kind of all you learned about the book, but you don’t want to seem like too big of an idiot. “Well, I-”

“Come read with me!” Dani says and pulls you onto her bed before resting on your chest.

You hold her happily as she reads to you and inwardly pat yourself on the back. You just scored some serious snuggle time with your favorite person.

Masterlist

[louloulemons-posts]

Hi! I love how much fluff is in your fics 💜 So comforting

Can I request Eddie and reader having Halloween date at home?

A lot of cuddles, pizza, classic horror movies and themed food? 🥺

Have a nice day!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I hope this fulfils what you were hoping for 🤍

Spooky Date Night

Eddie Munson X Reader

Summary : Eddie plans a date for him and his girlfriend.

Word Count : 1.5k

Warnings : Pure fluff, mentions of horror movies, swearing, knives (pumpkin carving), use of Y/N, pet names, not proofread.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You couldn’t wait, Eddie had invited you over to the trailer for a date. One that he had not let you know anything about whatsoever. All he said was dress comfy, pack an overnight bag and come over at 6:30.

All of those things were done, dressed in some sweatpants and a long sleeve tee with a jumper and jacket over top, you tried to hide from the chilly October air.

Pulling up to the trailer and parking next to Eddies van. Grabbing your bag from the seat beside you you climbed out and knocked on his door.

You heard his voice, “Coming!” Soon enough the door was pulled open and there stood Eddie Munson, a grin on his face. “Hey Angel! Come on in.”

You did so, sliding off your beat up shoes and leaving them next to Eddies favourites. Looking up the trailer looked a lot different to how it normally did.

There were fake cobwebs everywhere, candles lit, the room was dark but cosy. There were pumpkins on the counter, pizza and Halloween candy on the table. A high pile of videos to watch.

“What do you think?” He asked, stepping from one foot to the other nervously. “It looks great! You did all this?” You asked him. He nodded, “Yeah thought we could have a spooky night, as we’re going to that party on Halloween night.”

“You’re something else Munson, just the sweetest guy,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. “I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you go put your stuff in our room I’ll get us some drinks and plates for food.”

You nodded and went to drop your bag off in his room, you did have spare clothes at Eddies, even then you borrowed his. It was very likely that by the end of the night you’d end up in the worn Black Sabbath shirt he was wearing currently.

You went back to join him on his couch, as he put a couple slices of pizza on your plate.

“It’s so cozy in here, should convince Wayne to keep it like this.”

“It was hard enough to convince him to let me do this,” you both laughed at that.

“So what movies have we got?”

“I got a selection, classics, Halloween, Jaws, Nightmare on Elmstreet and The Shining. Some less scary ones cause I want you to get some sleep, so Rocky Horror.”

You hummed, there were a couple more in the pile too, you assumed that’s why he asked you over so early. “Got us some pumpkins to carve too, cause you know, best part of Halloween.”

You could only smile at him, he thought of all of this. You both loved Halloween, that was one of the things you bonded over when you first met. People freaking out over Christmas when you were already waiting for the Spooky Season to roll back around.

So the pair of you tucked into your pizza, chatting away and giggling ready to start your spooky evening.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

After you’d cleared up your plates and Pizza boxes, Eddie and you grabbed some knives, pens and a big bowl for your pumpkin carving. Rolling up your sleeves, you pulled the orange veggie towards you.

“Damn getting serious babe,” Eddie laughed. “You know it, want me to tie your hair back?” You asked him, he nodded, and held out his wrist. A hair tie sat there, it was for either you or him, depending on the situation.

Pulling his curls out of his face, you tied them in a low pony that sat at the base of his neck. Kissing the top of his head you sat back next to him. “Thanks Angel.”

Picking up a pen you began to draw your design on your pumpkin. Planning on doing a some what traditional one, triangle eyes and nose and a toothy grin.

You could tell Eddie was going the opposite route, assuming something with a fearsome face, that could potentially scare trick or treaters away.

Once you were both happy with your designs, you picked up your knives and began to cut off the top. Making lid for the little guys, pulling it off you smiled, proud of how even it was.

“Nice work babe,” Eddie smiled, soon pulling his own off. “Thanks, you too.” Placing it down you stood up. “Where you off too?” He asked. “To get spoons, we forgot them.”

“We don’t need spoons!” Eddie said before shoving his hand in the pumpkin. It came out covered in seeds and stringy insides. “Gross pumpkin guts!” You exclaimed.

“Dare you to try some.”

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s just pumpkin.”

“It’s grim Eds, look at it!” He grinned at you. “Don’t you dare.” You took a step back and Eddie stood up.

“Stay away!” He lunged for you and you squealed, running through the kitchen, the boy cackling as he chased you. “Edward Munson go away!”

You could feel him behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you to him, you screamed. He rubbed his sticky hand on your face slightly.

“Get off!” You shouted. He laughed again, dropping his head to your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “You’re a terrible boyfriend, did you know that?” You asked,turning to face him.

He couldn’t help out laugh, that was until you got your hand and wiped some of the pumpkin off your face and onto his lips. He spluttered, “Ew gross!” He exclaimed, wiping his mouth.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Your jack o lanterns now sat on the side with candles in. “Can’t believe I knocked his tooth out, he’s all gappy now!” You whined, dropping your head on to Eddie.

“I think he’s cute Angel. We got a cute one and a scary one, it’s like me and you.”

“You calling me gappy Edward Munson?”

“Who said you’re the cute one?” He cocked a brow.

You went to retaliate but he pecked your lips, “Pick a movie, I’m going to the bathroom.” He stood from the couch and walked away.

Looking through them, you decided that Halloween was the best one to start with.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

It was almost 12pm and you were now watching Nightmare on Elmstreet, pushing yourself closer to Eddie. “You okay?” He asked.

“Mhm, he’s just creepy,” you said. The boy wrapped his arms around you, letting you rest your head on his chest and his own on top of yours. He pressed a kiss to you and smiled.

Freddie Kruger popped up on screen making you jump and hide your face in Eddies chest, squealing as you did so. “Oh sweet girl it’s okay,” he spoke softly, rubbing your arm.

“Want me to turn it off?” You shook you head, no. “Okay but after this, Rocky Horror okay?”

“‘Mkay.” Pecking the top of your head once more, you moved your eyes to the screen once more.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You were about half way through Rocky Horror when your eyes grew heavy. It was nearing 1am, and you hadn’t moved from your position, snuggled in Eddies chest.

Relaxing fully, you let your eyes fall close, comfy and calm. No fear of Freddie Kruger or Michael Myers or even a giant Shark coming to get you.

Soon enough you were asleep in Eddies arms. Huffing a laugh, he gave you a light squeeze, allowing himself to relax too.

He was nervous this date wouldn’t be something you liked, he just wanted to make you happy. He knew he’d done that, from your laughter, to the play fighting to now, you snoozing in his arms softly.

Eddies became drowsy himself, he’d been up early to clean and decorate the trailer to make everything perfect for you. He didn’t mind, he’d do anything for you.

The boy soon followed your actions and drifted off himself, the sound of Tim Curry’s voice lulling you both.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A firm hand shook Eddies shoulder, making him jump awake. He met the eyes of his uncle Wayne. “Oh hey,” he said voice thick with sleep.

“Hey, sorry to wake you, but you’re in my bed,” he motioned to the couch.

“Shit sorry Wayne.” Eddie slowly slid you off him, resting you softly on the cushions.

Back cracking lightly as he stretched, he reached down for you, pulling your sleeping figure into his arms. “We’ll get out of your way, and I’ll clean up in the morning.”

“It’s 5am it’s morning. Just keep it down okay, it’s been a long shift.”

“Sure, do you need anything?” The boy asked his uncle.

“Just some sleep, you get yourself and Y/N to bed Son. So get outta my room.”

“Night Wayne.” He grunted back at Eddie, turning off the TV, that had a static screen, and grabbed his blanket from the back.

Eddie held you close to his chest as he wandered to the bedroom, keeping you as comfy as he could. Laying you down gently, you whined lightly.

“It’s okay Sweet Girl go back to sleep, ,” he hushed, stroking your hair. Laying down next to you, he pulled the blanket over both of your figures.

Soon enough the room was full of your snores, reaching for one another even in your sleepy state. It had been a great night.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[gatorbites-imagines]

I recently started reading about werewolf stiles and I was wondering if you could do a werewolf stiles x male reader, please and thank you

Werewolf Stiles Stilinski x male reader

Headcanon

Ive never read too many werewolf Stiles fics, as I mainly read Spark Stiles stuff, but its an interesting idea, so I hope you enjoy this.

It’s been a while since I watched the show, so there might be parts about werewolf culture I forgot.

There are many ways Stiles could have been bitten, but lets assume its later on after everything with the Nogitsune and the chimeras. Its most likely Scott that bites him to save his life or something like that.

Because he killed people as the Nogitsune, and maybe other times I can’t remember, he would have blue eyes instead of yellow. Since he has so much experience with other people being bitten, he’s probably more on top of his own transformation.

If it was in the show, there would probably be a whole plot about Stiles becoming something else when he was bitten, because its Stiles, why wouldn’t he. But let’s just say the transformation went as it was meant to go.

Hes still is loud sassy self, but with a lot more wolf and dog jokes. You have to expect to hear the joke about you putting him in a collar at least once a week, or making him sleep in the doghouse.

Stiles struggles with his new urges and senses for a while, especially how much how loves your scent and can’t seem to get enough of you. Even before his bite, Stiles was a clingy lover, but afterwards it gets even worse.

He doesn’t even seem to notice he does it. Stiles will hang out at your place and splay across your bed, burying his face into your sheets and pillow and roll around. Or you go to his place, where he absentmindedly makes you wear his clothes to get his scent on you.

Stiles notices how he wants you provide for you more, it starts out small like bringing you small snacks or letting you borrow his jacket, but it becomes bringing you a whole ass deer after a full moon, much to the pack’s entertainment.

You are his person, if that makes sense. If he’s losing himself during a shift, he thinks about you to get himself back under control. Just the idea of hurting you makes his entire body and soul ache, and it’s the last thing he would ever want to do.

That might also result in Stiles hiding away from you the days before a full moon, just in case, as his needs and urges get stronger and stronger. Let’s just say he’s had to buy a lot of new pants as his claws keep tearing holes in his usual ones, as he has to grip his thigh from doing anything.

Has caught himself almost biting you on multiple occasions, like if you guys are cuddling or getting a little more intimate and Stiles finds himself scraping his teeth across your neck. His instincts howl for him to bite and mark you, but he’s so terrified of the idea that he almost falls out of the bed.

Stiles being Stiles would bury himself in research to try and understand why his urges are so God damn strong, as other wolves he’s met haven’t been so bad when it comes to their lover.

He ends up having to tuck his tail between his legs and go to other members of the pack with more experience, most likely Derek, or Peter, as his research doesn’t end up with much.

Peter would have a good laugh at his situation, and Derek would just raise a brow with a small “huh, makes sense” much to Stiles’s annoyance.  He ends up getting the werewolf version of the birds and the bees, and the whole talk about true mates, and he ends up sitting in his car just thinking this all sounds like one of those trashy werewolf romance books.

Assuming you are an average human, it would take a bit for Stiles to tell you, and you probably have to force it out of him cuz he’s avoiding you. Stiles again being Stiles, would feel like he doesn’t deserve you or that you can do so much better, so he doesn’t wanna force a bond on you.

He needs reassurance that you still love him, especially after he’s become a werewolf. After a long talk, Stiles returns to his lovable clingy self, but he won’t allow himself to bond you until you guys get older, even though he truly wants too.

I can imagine it gets so bad that he wears something like a tooth guard so he can’t accidentally bite your neck in the heat of the moment, cuz he wants you both to build your careers or educations before you get “wolf married” as he calls it.

During a full moon, he also always finds himself by your place, be it crawling in through your window or just hovering in the shadows nearby. You gets used to the feeling of him watching you when he’s wolfed out, and you’ll easily find his glowing blue eyes when you learn where to look.

Like I said earlier, a scent beast. You’ll cat him snuffling and sniffing you on the regular, and it probably reaches the point he can smell the changes in your hormones, so if you ever feel a little hot under the collar you just know he’s gonna smell it too.

After being bitten he also gets more comfortable with his body and appearance, since running around during the full moon ends with him naked more times than he doesn’t. The bite also made him muscle up, at least somewhat, which he appreciates too.

When his old flannels don’t fit on him anymore cuz of the sudden growth spurt, he gives them all to you to wear or do with as you please. If they fit, that’s the easiest way to make him buckle for you.

All in all, he’s still as much of a sweetheart as if he wasn’t a werewolf, now he just has a lot of new urges and instincts that catch him off guard every now and then. Stiles would always carry some guilt for mixing you deeper into the supernatural world, even if you were already part of it, but he also can’t ever imagine living without you.

So, make sure to reassure him that you love him and will stay by his side. If you end up some kind of supernatural being too, the guilt lessens, but its Stiles were talking about, he’s always got some kind of thing going on.

[softwebss]

alr i'm request something from you how harry potter boys would react if your sick <3333

pov: you're sick . how the hp boys would react to you being sick

♡ synopsis: how the harry potter boys would react to you being sick.

♡ warnings: fluff, mentions of sickness, medicine, a bit of swearing, draco being suggestive and nsfw because hes like that-

♡ a/n: love im so sorry for posting this late!!! my midterms and exams have been KILLING me omlll- i hope you like it tho!!!

harry potter

he would be so worried???

poor boy would buy everything to help you get through your sickness

no matter how low key it was

you could have a slight cold and thirty seconds later he'd be rushing in the common room with thirty tissue boxes and cough syrup

he would also let you borrow his sweaters and mufflers to keep you warm

actually, he would insist on you to borrow them

and the amount of care he would show for you? omg

"LOVE DON'T DIE ON ME, YOU'RE GONNA GET THROUGH IT"

"i just coughed-"

he would snuggle with you, no matter how many times you'd tell him that he'd catch your cold

harry loves you more than anything tbh

ron weasely

hes a little shit about you getting sick

but he actually does care for you- but he wouldn't dare to show it

"HAHAHAHA- OH GOD Y/N- YOUR SNEEZES ARE GONNA WAKE UP THE WHOLE SCHOOL-"

"shut uppp!"

if he sees you shivering in your bed, hed crawl up from his and snuggle with you, with affirmations.

but by the morning he's himself again.

gobbling chicken fries and laughing whenever you sneezed.

smh ron, smh.

cedric diggory

hes very calm about your sickness

he'd be solemn about what medicines to give you, and when to bring you to the infirmary.

"i can handle it :)))"

"why do you have fifteen pills in your hand- CEDRIC WHA-"

actually nvm hes having a mental panic attack rn

BUT HED NEVER SHOW IT

all he wants is you to be calm and quiet and let him handle stuff

draco malfoy

he would be so caring

perfect bf tm

draco would magic up whatever you wanted

soup? he had it

tissues? he had it

the blood of unicorns to keep you young and beautiful? you didn't ask but he's already made the plans to go fetch it

actually tho hes gonna take care of EVERYTHING!!!

and he'll look so goddamn cute while doing it omggg

but he'll flirt with you while doing so because its draco oml

"sugar, I can't wait to flip you over the common room counter when you're healthy and let you ride m-"

"DRACO OH MY GOD MADAM POMPFREY IS STANDING RIGHT BEHIND YOU"

"SHE IS?????"

neville longbottom

i feel like not enough people acknowledge that neville exists-

BUT LETS OVERLOOK THAT RQ

he would be so overprotective

neville would magic the temperature to make it comfy for you <33

bro loves you too much smh

forehead kisses? yes pls.

he would never let you do anything that would worsen your condition

eg. taking long showers

going in the cold w/o a muffler

hes so sweet about it oml

[harrywavycurly]

Trouble Next Door Part 21: Practice Date

Masterlist: here

TW: None

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A/N: I included this as a regular part because it’s important to the storyline, also…y’all might not like how this ends but please just have faith in me I know exactly where this story is going and how it’s gonna end✨

“These…are for you.” “Oh Eddie these are so pretty thank you…uh please come in while I put these in a vase.” “You’re so kind…uhm so…how was your day?” “It was good I finally got the box of Halloween stuff down from the attic.” “I told you’d I’d help you get it…all you had to do was wait for me.” “You know I don’t have the patience for that…how was your day?” “It was fine…Henderson’s mom’s minivan is a fucking nightmare to work on but I got it done.” “I swear she just messes with stuff to make it stop running just so she can come and see you.” “You’re so delusional…you ready?” “Yeah…let me grab my purse and we can go.” “Now before you say anything…I talked Rick into letting me borrow his car…figured your first date back on the town deserved something better than my run down van.” “Oh don’t be silly Eddie I love that van…uhm…Did you clean it?” “Oh course I did….as if I’d let you sit on anything that belongs to Rick without bleaching it first.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” “I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your wedding day…is that a bobby-pin in your hair?” “You’re so annoying…I just wanted to look nice…and yeah they keep my hair from falling out of the bun…” “sorry..you look good Eddie that’s all I’m trying to say.” “Thank you…you look nice too…I always like when you wear that shade of green…it makes your eyes stand out.” “So…what happens now? After the obligatory complements?” “We just talk you weirdo.” “Okay…uhm…oh do you remember when you knocked on my door for the first time when we were like eleven to ask me if I wanted to play?” “Yeah…you practically threw yourself off your steps and into my arms you were so excited.” “I just was so happy to finally have a friend…who would’ve thought we’d still be friends after all these years? It’s crazy right? Friends don’t normally last this long…we haven’t even had a real fight before.” “Uh excuse me? Yes we have.” “Don’t start.” “Don’t start? Why? Because you still know that I’m right and you refuse to admit it?” “You’re not right…you’re extremely wrong and I’ve proven it to you time and time again.” “He wasn’t the first kill because we don’t know if he was dead by the time she actually died.” “Of course he was dead! They gutted him from the back! She was alive way after he died.” “You’re just so wrong because it takes a long time for someone to bleed out like that…he was totally still alive when she was dying.” “I know you want to believe that she was the first death in Scream but she just wasn’t…she watches her boyfriend get killed that’s why she starts to freak the fuck out!” “No she freaks out because a killer is threatening her on the phone and she just watched her boyfriend get stabbed….not die.” “Edward James Munson you know damn well he was dead!” “Shhhh! This is a fancy ass establishment you can’t go shouting about dead people.” “I need another glass of wine…”

“What are we doing here?” “It wouldn’t be an outing for us if we didn’t make a pit stop at some swings…” “will you push me?” “Aren’t you too old to need me to push you?” “I don’t need you to push me Eddie…I just like it when you do.” “fine…so…how’s it going so far? Feel like you could do this again?” “I’d give it an eight out of ten…and yeah I think so…it’s not as scary as I thought it was going to be.” “You thought a date with me was going to be scary?” “I just…I was nervous.” “Why? It’s just me…nothing to be nervous about.” “That’s true…what about you? Could you do this again?” “Oh yeah…I could totally do this again…maybe not the swings though..that’s just an us thing.” “Damn right it is…I better not hear about you taking anyone else to the park besides me or I’ll be upset.” “You’re so dramatic after a few glasses of wine.” “You love it though.” “Yeah…I do.”

“Ah here we are…home sweet home…mind if I come inside?” “That’s so bold of you to ask on a first date Edward.” “I’ll pour you some more wine….” “Okay you can come in then….” “Red or white?” “White please…I had a really good time tonight…thank you.” “You’re welcome..I’m glad you had a good time…I enjoyed it as well…what? Why…why are you looking at me like that?” “Are…uhm…are you…are you in love with me?” “What? Why…why would you…uhm…I..uh-” “oh god-” “No no no don’t…don’t walk away…I just wasn’t…why did you ask me that?” “Just forget it…I’m sorry…it’s the wine…I’m not making sense…I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have-” “yes.” “Yes?…yes what?” “I’m in love with you.” “No you’re not.” “Yes…yes I am.” “No you’re not…you would’ve told me…you…you would’ve said something.” “I’m…saying something now…doesn’t that count?” “I…I don’t know…what to say.” “That’s okay.” “I can’t…I can’t do this Eddie I can’t…I-” “hey it’s okay…please don’t cry….” “I think.. I just uhm…I need some space…I’m gonna go-” “no no I’ll go..you stay here I’ll uhm go stay at Wayne’s…just…I’m sorry okay? I didn’t…I didn’t want to tell you like this….please know that I don’t expect anything in return I just…it’s out there now so…we have to deal with it.” “I can’t deal with it right now…” “and that’s fine…I’ll uh go to Wayne’s and…maybe I’ll come by tomorrow and…we can talk about it?” “I’ll call you.” “Okay…yeah that works too…uhm…goodnight?” “Goodnight…tell…tell Wayne I said…hello.” “Yeah I’ll uhm..I’ll do that.”

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 7: Gone

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. Your sister prepares for her wedding to Laenor Velaryon.

Hello! this one took a while, so am sorry, lol! My cat got attacked, which I hope is at least SOME excuse. This is another 8000+ word chapter, so yay! This covers the Episode 5 stuff, which is fairly self-explanatory. Thank you to my boobear @ewanmitchellcrumbs for coming back to me and beta-ing this thingo!

TRIGGERS: Episode 5 shenanigans. Nothing much else, really.

These are the things you have learned—

One: Uncle took ’Nyra somewhere at night.

Two: that ‘somewhere’ was terribly improper, a place that not even a maid would go if she wanted to be seen as respectable.

Three: he was caught kissing her and doing things with her, even when there were lots of people in the room at the same time.

Four: he left her there, and it was only because of Ser Harwin that your sister made it home safely.

Five: Uncle asked Papa if ’Nyra could be his wife, and Papa said ‘no’.

These are not things you tell others that you know. Septa will likely strike you with her switch if she hears you repeating any of it. If anyone finds out what you have managed to find out, they will start minding their words more carefully around you. That is not what you want.

Because you are small and quiet, it is very simple for you to collect secrets. For example, Lord Bar Emmon’s lady wife has been dallying with a knight from House Massey. Lord Rosby is in debt to bankers in Essos for borrowing large sums for gambling. Lord Darklyn has a bastard son that no one knows about. You overhear little things here and there, spot details that others might miss, and you learn, tucking information away inside your mind just in case. You make sure that these secrets are proper ones, too—from the hands and mouths of those they are about.

After the accident that gave you a small scar on your arm, Papa made it a rule that you must come visit him each day so that he can keep an eye on you. This is how you had heard ’Nyra and Papa talking in his chambers.

“…have exposed yourself. Now, we must both suffer the consequences.”

“Were I born a man, I could bed whomever I wanted. I could father a dozen bastards, and no one in your court would blink an eye…”

“…an end. You will wed Ser Laenor Velaryon, and you will do so without protest… You are my political headache!”

“… my duty as heir… you must first do yours as King.”

You had waited for a beat, then knocked, hoping that the look on your face was innocent enough that they did not think you had heard. It worked—you had been let in and conversation had turned away from things-you-are-not-allowed-to-know to things-you-are-allowed-to-know. After that, it was not so difficult to piece together what must have happened from the rumours flying around the court.

Now, you understand why ’Nyra and Uncle were sharing all those long looks. Why they would stand so close to each other. Why they would jump apart whenever you came. They are in love, or maybe they just want each other in the way grown-ups sometimes do, the way that means they wish to put their parts together and make babies. Whatever the reason, whatever they feel, it had been enough for Uncle to ask Papa directly; enough to be exiled for.

You keep Uncle Daemon’s letter—‘I will be back soon’—to yourself. If you tell Papa, he will just make it impossible for Uncle to return.

If Uncle marries ’Nyra, will they go to live on Dragonstone? you wonder. Will they have many babies together? Will they bring me if I ask very, very nicely? You would like it best with them, you are sure of it.

Thoughts of what life might be like with Uncle and ’Nyra entertain you on the days you are made to wait for ’Nyra and Papa to return from Driftmark, which is where Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys and Laenor live. Even though your sister wants Uncle, she has agreed to marry Laenor. You don’t know what to think. You hardly remember Laenor. It doesn’t matter, you decide. Uncle will stop it from happening.

Lord Lyonel has gone with them as the new Hand of the King. It was not hard to find out that Lord Otto had his spies follow your sister out of the Keep and report back to him, or that he had then gone straight to Papa to tell of what Uncle and ’Nyra did. Your sister often says that Alicent seduced Papa to become Queen and give him half-Hightower children so that they would inherit what rightfully belonged to her, and that Lord Otto made her do it. She has been telling Papa that for a while now. It seems he has finally listened, for Lord Otto has been made to go back to his family seat even though his daughter is Queen and he has princes and a princess for grandchildren. He has gone too far in spying on ’Nyra.

This all means that, even though Uncle is no longer here, Alicent still wishes to keep an eye on you. She does not have many friends in the Keep now that her father has left, and it has made her nervous. You are only seven summers old, but you understand the way of things well enough—you understand that she wants to be your friend now that she’s realised she is alone.

I’ve been alone this whole time, other than for ’Nyra, you think. It is an unkind thought, so you push it down and tell yourself that it really isn’t Alicent’s fault that she forgot all about you with three babies to take care of.

Septa Marlow takes you to the nursery each morning as always so that you can see the Queen and your brothers and sister. In truth, you quite like this arrangement—because they are so little, it gives you the chance to play with them, to pretend not to be so grown-up for a while. Or, rather, you play with Helaena. Aegon is at a stage where he likes to throw things, so you mostly avoid him. Helaena is a quiet companion, so playing with her mostly means passing her toys and watching her arrange them in neat little piles that make no sense to you but seem to give her a great deal of joy.

“Here, ’El,” you say, passing her the next item. She stops her normal routine when she sees what you have for her. “This is Marya, and this”—you take the other doll out from the makeshift wrappings you devised when still within your own chambers—“is Hana.”

Helaena babbles to herself as her pudgy fingers twist through the brown hairs sprouting atop the wooden doll’s head, surprisingly gentle for one as young as she is. She beams, a gummy spreading of lips that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle, and pats Marya’s wooden face.

“Dolly,” she whispers. “Marya?”

You nod. “Yes, it’s a dolly. Her name is Marya.��

Sometimes, you find that you need to repeat things to her. She often poses questions like this, as though she is unsure if she has heard you right, as though she wants approval. You wonder if you did that at her age.

“That is very kind of you, darling.”

You look up. From her seat by the window, Alicent surveys you and your sister with a small smile. Aemond sleeps on in her arms, seeming to care little for playtime. Is he not too old for that? you think. She can barely fit him in the cradle of her arm, but you suppose that Alicent has always been quite small-bodied.

You smile at her words. She has taken to calling you ‘darling’ as of late. You know not why. Still, it brings a flush of warmth tingling through your blood. “I thought she might like them,” you say.

It makes sense; your dolls were only laying there, doing nothing at all, and Aegon keeps breaking your little sister’s toys. Because she is so quiet, you sometimes wonder if her nurses just don’t realise that she is there and that she needs just as much to play with as her older brother. Your dolls are rather sturdy. They were made for you when you were three summers, so they ought to withstand anything he can subject them to.

It is as though your thoughts summon his attention to you.

“I want them, Mama!” Aegon cries, pointing in your direction. It takes you a moment to realise that he is not pointing at you, but at the dolls in yours and Helaena’s laps. “I want!”

“They are for Helaena, Aegon,” Alicent says, but it is no use. Aegon takes a deep breath, and you brace yourself as the scream pierces through the quiet of the room, quickly followed by the squawk and sobbing of Aemond.

Gwenys stands from her place beside Aegon and lifts him into her arms, trying her best to hush him. There is little point—now that he has it in his mind that he is being denied something he wants, there will be no dissuading him until he is spent from crying too much. As usual, she heads for the door, taking with her the low sounds of her soothing voice drowned out by the wails of your brother.

Alicent has not moved at all, aside from swaying Aemond gently and patting his back. She rarely ever tends to Aegon. There are times when she looks at him as though he is a complete stranger, as though she did not make him and carry him and birth him. You sometimes catch yourself feeling sorry for him, for the fact that his mama so clearly loves his younger brother more than she loves him. In some ways, you and Aegon are very alike—Papa loves ’Nyra more than he loves you. He loves ’Nyra more than he loves any of his other children, but that is because she is the heir and that means she is the most important. It is one of those facts that belongs in the drawer in your mind labelled ‘the way things are’.

Still, Aegon does not do any of the right actions that would get Alicent or Papa to love him more. He throws things and breaks things and yells and runs, and sometimes he will say the nastiest words like ‘I hate you’ to everyone when he is in one of his moods. At least you try. You use your manners and follow instructions and keep quiet and calm, which Septa says is what makes a lady respectable. Perhaps that is why Alicent is calling you ‘darling’ now.

“Dolly?” Helaena whispers again.

She is staring at Hana, so you prop the doll in her lap beside Marya. Your sister clutches them to her, burying her face in their hair so gently that it makes your chest feel tight and a lump grow in your throat.

You watch Helaena hug the dolls that used to be yours but now are hers, ignoring the little voice in your head that reminds you of the one you didn’t bring, the one you have kept all to yourself even though you’ve no need for it now. Of Alysanne, the doll with silver hair and purple eyes, no longer tucked away in a chest but resting beneath your pillow, hidden from the sight of all but you.

It seems like barely any time passes between the return of Papa and ’Nyra and the beginning of the wedding celebrations. Of course, that is not true, for there are days upon days of preparations—ravens to send out and replies to be received, journeys to be made to the capital and rooms to be cleared of dust to house the visitors, banners to be erected and decorations to be installed—that sweep seemingly all of King’s Landing into a frenzy. Not even you are free of it. Thankfully, your only role is to stand up straight with your arms out as the seamstresses pin and hem your dress for the event.

“What do you think, Princess?” Lina, the head seamstress, asks. You don’t know if she is speaking to you or to ’Nyra, who looks on with a smile.

“Lovely,” ’Nyra says, answering your unspoken question. She steps forward to brush light fingers against the neckline of the gown. It tickles. “Silver ribbons for the hair, I think. Could a belt be fashioned in the same colour?”

“Of course, Princess,” the seamstress is saying, but your attention has drifted to the guard that stands watch at the door.

Ser Criston has been strange as of late. Though he is usually always more quiet than not, there is something very unhappy about the way he surveys those in the room now. He is ’Nyra’s sworn shield, and yet his eyes seem to slide right past her, almost like he wants to pretend that she doesn’t exist. What surprises you the most is that ’Nyra notices—she gives him fleeting looks every so often, especially when he is fixed and still—but does nothing about it. She is not one to let an insult lie.

You have always liked Ser Criston. Before, when you were allowed to go about more freely, he would let you sit by him and talk while ’Nyra was busy pestering the minstrels to play more songs about Nymeria.

Your sister claps as the final note rings. “Again,” she demands.

Samwell sighs, flexes his fingers, and readies himself to play once more. As he plucks the strings of his mandolin, he lets his voice carry the melody forth.

“She fled with her ships and her people,

Her heart broken for those who had died.

But if they remained, they would perish

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye.

A hundred fell to the sea’s cruel sweep,

A hundred more to the Summer Isles’s tide.

The Queen lost many souls fleeing from

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye…”

You turn away from your sister and glance to the side, to where Ser Criston is sitting next to you on the bench. “You’re Dornish, Ser Criston. Are you not?”

It is what all the ladies at court say—even Ser Harrold has said so. It certainly makes sense, for the knight’s colouring looks the same as Nymeria’s in all the illustrations of her you have seen.

Ser Criston smiles at your question. “Not exactly. I… my father is Lord Dondarrion’s steward.”

“Oh.” You frown, thinking hard. “He’s from… the Stormlands?”

“Yes, Princess. Well done,” he says. You beam at the praise. Ser Criston turns to listen to Samwell’s song for a moment, the tale of Nymeria floating faintly through the air and carrying a great sadness with it.

You wait for him to continue. When nothing comes forth, you try again. “Why does everyone say that you are Dornish, Ser? You should tell them they are wrong.”

He laughs, a quiet sound. “They aren’t. My mother—she was Dornish.”

You have learned much about the difference between ‘was’ and ‘is’. ‘Is’ is for people who are living, who breathe and think and talk and laugh, like you; but ‘was’ is for those who are no longer here. Who have died and left the living to mourn them.

“What House was she from?” You keep your voice gentle. You don’t wish to make him sad.

Ser Criston shakes his head. “She was lowborn. A member of the commonfolk. My father encountered her on an incursion into Dornish territory. He fell in love with her at first sight, or so he’s always said.”

“That sounds nice.” You have never seen or heard him be so free with telling someone about himself before. Even now, after serving in the Kingsguard for as long as you can think of, this is the first you have learned of who he is beyond his ability to use a sword. “What was she like? Your Mama?”

At that, he says nothing. You sit and listen to the music, to the tale of a queen who is forced to begin again in an unknown land. You wonder if Ser Criston sometimes feels as strange in King’s Landing as Nymeria did in Dorne all those hundreds of years ago.

“I cannot recall my mother well, Princess,” he finally says. You just barely stop yourself from startling at the sound of him. He stares out at the grass, at nothing, appearing for all the world like he is unspeakably lonely. “She passed on when I was… very young. I know she was beautiful; I remember dark eyes”—like his, you think—“and the shape of her smile. At least, I think I do.”

He looks angry, or perhaps upset. It is hard to tell. You are not surprised, though, for men are often angry when they are made to think of sad things. There is little you can do to change his mood, but you still let your palm come to rest on his arm, patting it softly. He peers over at you. His face softens. You and he take shelter from the sun in silence, looking out as the final refrain of the minstrel’s song flows through the Godswood.

“… Th’ Dornish have yet to bow or to break

Under the dragon’s eye,

Under the dragon’s eye.”

You know what it is like to long for someone you cannot recall. You understand. In brief moments, Ser Criston has been a creature with a spirit much like yours. But he always disappears within himself and the Kingsguard returns, ready to do his duty no matter what. He is another of those that your sister sometimes strays a little too close to, so perhaps he is upset that she is in love with Uncle Daemon and not him. That would be very scandalous, you think, suddenly feeling rather sorry for him.

“… Well? Do you like it?”

You startle. Everyone is staring in your direction, so you shake such thoughts from your mind and glance over at yourself in the mirror. The dress itself is a shade of pale purple that gleams from the silver threads woven into the fabric; the collar is beaded with pearls and tiny diamonds; the bodice decorated with flowers and vines in dark purple and grey thread the colour of steel. It is far more elegant than anything you have worn before. You look like a real grown-up lady in it.

All you can do is nod, your eyes shining bright with excitement. Even though you will be wearing it to the feast for ’Nyra’s wedding to Laenor—to someone who is not Uncle—you are filled with a sudden impatience for the eve to come sooner.

The screech and roar of unfamiliar dragons drifts in from the distance, their dark shadows in the sky a balance with those of the Velaryon ships upon the water. The banners have been raised; the Great Hall prepared; the food made ready. Those who live within the Keep’s walls, including you, linger around the room in wait of the guests that come from all corners of the Realm.

You kick your feet beneath your chair as lords and ladies file into the hall, the booming voice of Ser Harrold announcing them each in turn.

“House Redwyne with their lord, Oren Redwyne!”

“House Hayford with their lord, Mathis Hayford!”

The arrivals become of greater importance the longer the festivities continue. Soon, the incoming nobles are declared with all sorts of titles after their House and name. “House Lannister with their lord, Jason Lannister, Lord Paramount of the West, and Master of Casterly Rock!” Ser Harrold calls out.

You do your best to avoid notice as Lord Jason walks down the steps, surrounded by people in different shades of red and gold to match his House. He makes his way forward, up, up, up the dais to stand before Papa and ’Nyra. Neither look very pleased by his presence, though he doesn’t seem to realise this.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” he says, smiling as though he is an old friend of them both. “You have made a fine match for the Princess.”

Papa does not reply, just stares with his mouth frozen in an upturn. It forces ’Nyra to speak. “Thank you, Lord Jason. I could think of no better man than Ser Laenor.”

Uncle. Uncle. What about Uncle? you think, but you do not say it aloud.

Lord Jason makes a soft noise. You cannot tell if he agrees or if he is still upset that she refused him. “Well. If this is only the welcome feast, I admit I cannot imagine what you might have planned for the wedding.”

“My daughter is the future queen.” Papa looks at your sister with a great deal of love. She turns toward him, a glow of happiness on her cheeks. “I wanted this to be a wedding for the histories.” You wonder if your own wedding will be one for the histories someday, or if Papa only intends for his heir to have such treatment.

 “Where is the Queen?” Lord Jason asks, glancing around. “I had hoped to pay my respects.”

It is a question you yourself had been thinking of. Alicent is not one to be late to important gatherings. It is very unseemly for a lady to do so. If she were still under Septa’s care, she would probably be scolded most terribly for it.

Papa pauses for a moment. “I understand the Queen is still readying herself for the celebrations.”

“This is why men wage war,” Lord Jason says with his chin tilted high. “Because women would never be ready for the battle in time.”

He laughs at his own words, though he is the only one. It is not a very good jest, for you can think of at least three ladies from history—Visenya, Rhaenys, Nymeria—who had waged war and done well at it. Papa and ’Nyra do not seem to find it funny either, for they merely look at him like he is stupid.

“Your presence is always such a pleasure, Lord Jason.” Your sister tries to be polite, but you can hear the bother in her tone.

The smile disappears from Lord Jason’s face. He bends at the waist in a short bow. “Princess. Your Grace.”

As he rises, his eyes flick to you. It is like he has only just spotted you here, two seats down from the King. He looks you up and down as though you are a prize horse. The curve of his lips as he does so is very off-putting. “Good evening, Princess,” he says to you.

Papa clears his throat loudly before you can respond. His hand is clenched tight around his cup, causing one of the scabs to crack slightly. A thin film of blood spreads slowly across the knuckle. It all serves to startle Lord Jason, who quickly averts his gaze and slinks back down the steps to where his brother sits.

The next group to greet Papa and ’Nyra begins their approach, only to be interrupted by another man. He cuts in front of them all. You do not recognise him. “Your Grace. Princess Rhaenyra. Congratulations are in order.” After he says this, he turns to you. “And my greetings to you, Princess.”

It is the first time someone has addressed you so far without making you uncomfortable, so you cannot help the warmth that spreads through you. “Hello, Ser.” It is as good a guess as any. You hope you have not erred.

Papa’s smile is much more real. “We are very honoured to have you as a guest, Ser Gerold.” His expression changes, dims, his brow twitching. “I must say,” he adds, wiping the back of his hand on the kerchief resting by his plate, “I was most distressed to hear of the Lady Rhea’s tragic passing. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Rhea? Uncle has a wife named Rhea, you think with a frown. You notice Papa’s kerchief is streaked with red.

“Lady Rhea was a unique character,” Ser Gerold says. “Her kind… is not soon to be seen again.”

’Nyra surveys him with kind eyes. “If there is anything the crown might do to aid House Royce…”

It is Uncle’s wife who has died is the thought that crosses your mind as the drums begin to beat, signalling the arrival of someone very important. The guests that were lining up to pay respects separate to either side of the hall as the doors open and Ser Harrold cries, “Lord Corlys of House Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark.” At that, the Velaryons make their way into the hall in a sea of glittering black and gold. There are more of them than you ever thought possible—far more than your own House has. “And his lady wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; and their son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon, the future king consort.”

Everyone claps as they walk toward the dais. Papa and ’Nyra stand and you follow—those who had been sitting do the same, rising to their feet in welcome of your Valyrian kinsmen. Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys bow and curtsey before you, Laenor stepping forward to do the same. ’Nyra leaves her seat to move around the table, and you are surprised to see her grinning at Laenor as he comes to meet her. She takes his hands; he kisses hers, and the applause begins anew.

As Laenor takes his seat beside ’Nyra—as Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys take theirs beside him, and the audience moves to find their own seats—someone comes in unannounced.

Uncle.

The room goes very quiet, and then the murmuring starts. Papa’s face is like thunder as Uncle Daemon strolls down the walkway with a smile and comes to a halt before him, as though daring him to make a fuss of his return. For a moment, you wonder if he will have the guards throw Uncle from the Keep.

Papa gestures to an attendant, who brings another chair to the end of the table. He will let him stay, then, you think. But Uncle does not sit in it. Instead, he looks at Lord Lyonel next to you, his brow raised.

“Well?” he asks. Lord Lyonel says nothing. Uncle scoffs. “Move. I would sit by my niece, Lord Hand.”

“My Prince—” The Hand of the King stops at the sight of Uncle’s barely concealed glare, a threat all on its own. He clears his throat and rises, the chair skidding back with a squeak as he steps aside. Uncle settles in the empty seat, shoulders hunching in that way he gets when he is trying to show everyone how carefree he is. He glances down at you and winks.

Papa turns from his brother to those gathered in the hall. “Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning…”

“Āmāzī,” you whisper, only just loud enough for Uncle Daemon to hear. You have come back.

He leans into your space to whisper his reply. “Kīvio sētetan, gōnton daor?” I made a promise, did I not?

You nod, thrilled. He remembered. He kept his promise. Your hand finds his below the table, hidden from view. He is warm as he always is, like fire, and he squeezes tight even as his expression shows a picture of boredom. Though he lets go quickly, the warmth remains.

“With House Targaryen and…” Papa suddenly falls quiet, staring out at the end of the hall. Everyone’s eyes, including yours, turns to follow his line of sight.

Alicent stands alone in the entry. That is not the strange part, of course—but what she is wearing is unlike anything you have seen her in before. Her gown is a shade of emerald, off the shoulder, a deep cut in the neckline exposing an indecent amount of flesh for a respectable noblewoman. It is beautiful, but alarming, for the oddity of it is matched by the almost angry look she wears as she silently approaches, people rising in turn when she passes.

She stops to greet ’Nyra. “Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you.”

It is cold, completely different from the way she normally speaks to your sister. It seems ’Nyra notices, for she cannot come up with a response before Alicent is kissing Papa on his cheek, taking her place like nothing is out of the ordinary.

“Please be seated,” Papa says with a cough. The hall echoes with the sound of shuffling. “Where was I? Oh, yes.”

He grunts. This time, he lets his voice carry to fill the room. “With House Targaryen and House Velaryon united, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dragons in Westeros.” The guests applaud. “And after tonight’s small affair”—everyone laughs—“seven days of tournament and feasting.”

More clapping. “At the end of it all…” He is starting to sound out of breath, which is worrying. He has been unwell as of late. “At the end of it all, a royal wedding… between my daughter, my heir… your future Queen… and Ser Laenor Velaryon, the heir to Driftmark.”

Papa sinks to his chair like he has just run up and down every step in the Keep, and you can see his chest rising and falling like he is trying to find air. The sound of it is drowned out by the music that begins to play. ’Nyra and Laenor leave their seats to perform the first dance, impossibly graceful in their movements. They look rather lovely together, you cannot help but think. Still, it is not he she should be dancing with. Glancing over at Uncle, you see he appears to be thinking much the same thing. You are unsure if it is a petty sort of amusement playing along the corner of his mouth or a snarl threatening to reveal itself as he watches your sister with a man who is not him.

The dance comes to a close and everyone claps, followed by a rush of lords and ladies rising to join ’Nyra and Laenor on the floor. Alicent stands. You observe her making her way to the Hightowers at one of the lower tables. You stay in your seat.

“Pōnte imazumbilā?” Uncle asks, jerking his chin toward those dancing in the middle of the room. Will you join them?

“Mirtys drējī rhēdiō daor,” you say with a twist to your mouth. I don’t really know anyone. In truth, you would like to go and dance, but you dislike the idea of doing so with a stranger. Or worse, with someone who looks at you like Lord Jason did.

Uncle grunts. “Konir drives qubys issa.” That’s a poor reason.

You feel your cheeks heat with your embarrassment. It is not very brave of you, you know. “Usōven, kepus,” you say with a small voice. I am sorry, Uncle. A sting prickles behind your eyes.

“Aōma lilinna.” He gazes down with a softness he uses only for you. I will dance with you.

“Really?”

Uncle Daemon shrugs. “Lo jaelā, darilaros.” If you like, Princess. His head turns to face the gathering dancers again. You know, though, that he is really looking at ’Nyra, smiling and beautiful in her white gown. “Yn ēlī, mirros gaomagon ajorrāelan.” But first, I have something to do.

You wonder what he intends. Will he take Laenor to the side, ask him to run away and leave ’Nyra a woman without a betrothed once more? Will he grab hold of her and force her to the High Septon’s rooms, make him wed them before anyone can stop him? Will he declare his love for all to hear, give Papa no choice but to do away with the Velaryon match? Each thought, wilder and wilder, circles through your mind. Whatever he means to do, it will surely be worthy of a great deal of court gossip.

But then, a voice interrupts. “In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes. Even Targaryens.” Ser Gerold takes one step, then two up the dais.

Uncle remains unimpressed. “Who are you?”

“Ser Gerold Royce of Runestone.”

“And?”

You can see the clench of the man’s jaw. Uncle is being horribly rude. “I am cousin to your late lady wife.”

“Ah, yes,” Uncle says. “Terrible thing. I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident.” You want to sink to the ground, to hide away from this conversation. It goes against everything Septa has taught you about courtesy.

“You know better than anyone,” Ser Gerold says, “it was no accident.”

You glance between Uncle and Ser Gerold, worry churning your belly to sickness. The salted flavour of roasted boar turns sour in your mouth. What does he mean? you think.

Then, there is a faint brush of fingertips against your arm. You startle, peering to your left. Papa is leaning across Alicent’s seat. Though he has just touched you, he is staring across at Uncle and Ser Gerold. His eyes slide to you, and he nods to the dancers.

Go, he mouths. Your lips part with your rising protest, but he frowns hard at you. Now, he mouths again.

Scurrying from your chair, you crane your neck to find someone to take company with. There are not many options—’Nyra is busy dancing, though now with Ser Harwin, Lord Lyonel’s son, and Alicent is still speaking with her kin. Everyone else is a stranger to you. For a moment, you wonder if anyone would notice should you sneak to the doors and make your way back to your own chambers.

“Hello.”

Laenor Velaryon has broken away from the throng. Standing beside you, he looks every bit as lavish as a man about to be wed ought to be. His coat is richly embroidered in black and gold; the pendants upon his gold chain glimmer. There is so much detail to his attire that you do not know where to look. He is smiling down at you, his face gentle.

“Hello,” you say, wary.

“It has been quite a while since last we met, hasn’t it?” There is a way about him that makes me feel as though he’s an old friend, you muse. His expression is open, his arms relaxed at his sides. “You were rather a great deal smaller.”

“I am seven summers now.”

“And I am eighteen. Strange, how time changes us.” He folds his hands before him. “Would you care to dance?” he asks.

You shake your head, though a part of you wants to accept. He is very easy to be around, you are finding. Perhaps he is not so bad a choice after all. “I am waiting for my uncle.”

“Ah.” Silence reigns briefly. Then, he bends closer to your height, his pointed finger directed out to the crowd. “However… I do believe he’s occupied, Princess.”

You stare out onto the floor and watch as Uncle makes his way from Laena Velaryon, shifting between bodies like a snake slithers in grass, straight toward your sister. You watch him murmur something indistinct to Ser Harwin—he takes the man’s place—he swarms up against her, and the pair seem intensely concentrated on their conversation. They are barely dancing, swaying together in a vague rhythm to the music.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Laenor says.

You think you might know, but you say nothing. It is hard enough to keep the threat of jealousy from rising like poison at the sight of Uncle with ’Nyra—with her and not you. He promised you a dance.

Laenor sighs. “Look,” he says. You glance up. “I get the feeling you are not exactly pleased by this match. No”—he waves off your protest with a laugh—“it’s alright. I cannot say I was very happy, either. At first. But your sister… she’s quite the woman. I’ll be… content with her, I think. I just hope I can offer her the same.” He lightly places his hand on your shoulder, firmer when he realises you do not plan to shake him off. “I trust that you’ll set me right, should I behave in a manner less than what she deserves.”

He is painfully earnest as he looks at you, like he truly does intend to seek your guidance. You cannot say that of many people. At the very least, he is good at pretending you are important enough to need a high opinion from. It is more than you expected.

“I will,” you say.

It is too quiet, and you think he probably hasn’t heard you over the noise. But he smiles, pats your arm, and disappears back into the mass of people. You feel oddly thrilled by his kindness.

Now that you are alone once more, your eyes drift back to where you had seen Uncle and ’Nyra, near to the middle of the dancers. You spy two shocks of silver, bright against all the darker heads of hair—you see Uncle take ’Nyra’s face in his hand—he leans in—

He pulls away.

What is he doing? you think, frowning. Uncle is stepping back—’Nyra reaches out, though for nothing—he’s stalking off—

You don’t even realise you have followed him, that you have sidled along the edge of the wall to the door and slipped behind the guards, out of notice, until you are facing the looming dimness of the passages outside the Great Hall.

Behind you, someone screams. Then another. Another. More yelling. The door closes and the noise disappears, as if it never was.

You did not realise just how many guards had not been in attendance at the feast until now. They jog seemingly in pace, the crash of armour too loud, echoing as they rush toward the room you have just left behind. Perhaps they have been drawn by the sounds that had taken your attention also.

It forces you to seek a hiding place. You dart into the nearest alcove, and though it is not covered, you pray that it is too dark for anyone to take notice. Thankfully, it works. Your Papa’s men thunder rumble past with nary a look your way.

A creak from the door. A faint thudding, and whispers, and a gruff voice sounds out, clearer than the rest. “Something to cover it with… for the body… and fetch the High Septon to… wedding will take place when he arrives…”

“Now?”

“Yes, now! So, go and…” A wail, and then it is quiet again.

A manservant hurries his pace, footfalls ringing in the near-silence as he takes the steps up and up and up. You watch him disappear from view, surely having gone to carry out the order given to him. To fetch the High Septon, withdrawn into his own rooms somewhere far, far from your own, awaiting the day he is called to perform the ceremony. Tonight’s ceremony.

Tonight? The wedding is tonight? There was to be seven days before ’Nyra was married to Laenor! That is what Papa said earlier… is it not?

It takes a moment for you to remember how you have come to be here, so caught up are you in your whirling thoughts. A part of you wishes to return, to make sure that Papa and ’Nyra and Alicent are safe. ’Nyra is a Princess, you remind yourself. Alicent is the Queen, and Papa is King. Everybody will want to keep them protected. Besides, there is little you could do that the guards could not. You are only a little girl.

Then, it strikes you. Your purpose. Uncle. Where has Uncle gone?

You peer out, and immediately snap back into shadow. The hall is not empty as you had assumed, though it was perhaps silly of you to think otherwise. It is always full of life and activity. There are guards stationed by the stairs, by each archway projecting a further passageway, branching out from the main corridor; two or three messengers await, milling nervously opposite the doors you had just exited from; maids and servants walk by, uncaring of the chaos within, busying about with their duties as normal. Any one of these people could see you and know in an instant who you are. Your hair—your dress—it is all too easy to identify. And if they see you, know you, they will pass you off to a waiting guard, who will ensure you are returned to your rooms, to Septa Marlow.

How will you discover where Uncle is then?

You wait, hoping that the bevy of bodies will thin with each passing minute. As you wait, you listen to passing snippets of conversation from those who walk by. Then, you hear it. Uncle’s name is like a clanging bell out of the mouth of a nearby maid. Your ears strain to catch the rest. “… for Prince Daemon’s belongings to be… King’s Landing tonight… waiting in the courtya…”

“Yes, ma’am…”

Footsteps. Your mind races. No, no, no… Not again. Not now. Not so soon.

Belongings. Tonight. Waiting in the courtyard. You may be young, but you are no fool. Those words, in that order—it can really, truly only mean one thing.

It means that Uncle is leaving.

You wait. You wait through the fractured exchanges drifting to your shoddy hiding place, the morsels of what life must be like for those who live and work in the Keep. You wait through the spilling of people into the hall, the nobles who had witnessed whatever it is that had been hidden from you. You wait through their bewildered conversation—“a Kingsguard!” and “such a terrible omen!” and “what a ghastly sight!” being some of the choice fragments you can hear—and through their slow scattering back to whichever lodgings they had managed to secure themselves. You wait through the barking orders of the Kingsguard to “find the Princess!”—it seems all have finally realised you are no longer in the room—the thud of their boots easy to detects as they grow fainter, fainter, fainter.

Finally… quiet.

Well, not entirely. The doors are open once more, and you can just barely hear voices within, the sound of something heavy being dragged out. Grunting, as with some great effort. None of these are important. What is important is that finally, finally, the way is clear enough to steal out of the alcove and just across to the staircase, to sidle out of the hall and down the corridor. You thank whatever gods had favoured you that something shocking or maybe even horrid had occurred and given you a free path to the courtyard.

Your mind immediately rebels. What a terribly wicked thing to be glad for. If you had spoken it aloud—if Septa had heard you—you know you would pay the price for such sin.

When you arrive, the sight that awaits you is one you had hoped against hope you would not be greeted by. Even though you had heard the proof, the crushing weight of disappointment still feels heavy in your chest.

“Where are you going?” you ask, standing on the steps that lead to sand, to dust. To Uncle.

There he is—tightening the bridle on Varlet’s muzzle, reins in hand. Dark Sister is at his hip again. He must have fetched it from his rooms before commanding the servants to pack up his things, to send them along who knows where.

“Fu—” He cuts himself off, spinning to face you. A bad word, you presume. You see his face relax as his eyes scan you, recognising you even in dim torchlight. “Go back inside, sweetling,” Uncle says.

You cannot help the rush of tears that prickle behind your eyes. “You—Uncle Daemon, you cannot leave now!” You cast around for some reason, any reason you can find that might persuade him. “The—’Nyra is going to be married in the Great Hall soon. You have to be there. You said you would dance with me.”

This makes him release the reins, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, his eyes like slits beneath the steel shelf of his brow. The horse nickers cautiously behind him, toeing at the ground. After a moment where he does nothing but stand, silent and still, he moves, taking large strides toward you. Up, up, up the steps he goes, and then he is crouching before you.

“Talītsos”—little niece, he says, and as he speaks, his fingers reach out to swipe loose hair back behind your ear—“the King has asked me to leave. I must do as he says, correct?”

When have you ever cared what Papa says? you want to tell him. What about ‘Nyra? You are leaving her behind.

What about me?

Instead, what comes from your mouth is this: “When—when will you be back?” Your lower lip begins to shake. One of the tears falls, even though you tried so hard to keep them from doing so.

His thumb brushes it away. You can still feel the sting of it in the cool night air, though his skin leaves a trail of heat over your cheek. “I’m afraid… I’m not coming back.”

His face is unbearably soft as he says this, but it does not banish the shock, the dread that rises. You feel ill. You feel ill. Bile burns in the back of your throat.

“But… you promised,” you say. You wonder if you look as lost as you sound.

Uncle smiles, though it is weak. “I know. If I had a choice, you know I’d stay.”

You cannot count the number of people who might hear such a thing and take it for a falsehood. He is a rake; a villain; a rogue. He lies, steals, cheats. He is mad, he is cruel, he is the very worst thing that has happened to House Targaryen since your great-great-great-uncle.

But you know he means it. You know.

“Will I ever see you again?” you ask, close to a whisper. Any louder and you’ll burst into sobs, and that will surely bring the guards—you can hear them faintly calling your name—right to you.

Uncle takes your hand. His eyes are bright, sad. “Kostilus,” he says slowly—perhaps—using the language of Old Valyria the way he does whenever he wants to voice something fond, something gentle and warm. “Kostilus daor. Jēda ivestrilus.” Perhaps not. Time will tell.

That is not good enough. That is not nearly good enough—but what can you or he do? If Papa has decreed that Uncle must leave, then he must, for he is the King. There is nothing to be done. Nothing at all.

Before you even realise it, you’ve thrown your arms around him, burrowing as close as you can get. He smells the same—of salt and smoke and love love love. “Aōma ozmijīnna, kepus.” I will miss you, Uncle.

Instead of replying, he just hugs you tight, so tight that your ribs ache and you think you can feel his pulse against your skin, even through so many layers of fabric and leather. You can barely breathe from the force of it. It doesn’t matter. You try to carve out a space in your mind for the memory of this moment, this single point in time where he is here and you are loved and the rest is trivial.

But, like all good things, it comes to an end. He pulls away. He stares at you, almost as though he means to say something. He doesn’t. He cups your cheek, and then he stands. He walks back to Varlet. He mounts his horse.

The grief of it bursts from you like an almighty cannon, wrenching with heaving, painful gulps. It surges with loud, ringing sobs, your nose stoppered up so wholly that you cannot breathe, so much so that it blocks out all sound, all feeling. You do not hear any last words. You do not hear the gate open. You do not hear the striking of hooves on the ground as Uncle Daemon rides away, getting smaller, past the gate, out of reach, going, going…

Gone.

It will not be long before the guards are drawn to you by the sound of your tears. It will not be long before they march you back inside. It will not be long before you must sidestep a crumpled Targaryen banner in the entry of the Great Hall, before you are brought into the grasp of Papa and ’Nyra, before you are made to listen to their panicked reproaching.

“Don’t ever run off like that again!” Papa will cry out, grabbing you by the shoulders with unsteady, shaking hands. He will loom over you, an expression battling between relief and anger playing out over his grey face. “We thought… we thought…”

“It does not matter what we thought, Father,” ’Nyra will say, lips tipped up in a smile despite her wet eyes and dishevelled hair. “All that matters is that she’s safe.”You will wonder why she appears so untidy, but there will be no time to ask.

As the High Septon performs the ceremony, as ’Nyra and Laenor repeat their vows in stunned, shaking voices, you will stand beside Alicent, in front of Papa. And, after your sister kisses her new husband on the cheek, Papa will collapse to the ground, knocking you lightly on the way. Alicent and ’Nyra and Lord Lyonel and Lord Corlys will crouch to his aid, booming voices clamouring for the guards to fetch help. Papa will be taken out of the hall on a pallet, speedily dispatched to his chambers for tending to by the maesters. Everyone will rush about, fretful beyond measure for the King’s health, while you are overlooked once more.

You will find yourself staring at the discarded banner of your House, the red of the dragon darker, deeper, like blood. You will feel a twisting in your belly at the sight. You will return to your rooms where it is dark, where you are alone, and you will ready yourself for sleep with no joy for the day that is to greet you when next you wake.

All of this will happen.But right now—here, on the steps leading to the courtyard which leads to the city which leads to a world far, far out of reach—you will watch the gate, wondering if Uncle will change his mind, waiting for him to come back.

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[alpaca-clouds]

What Mutual Aid can look like

If you grow up in modern society, there is a good chance you will only ever associate anarchism with violence and rebellion. This ignores though the core principle of anarchism. Like one of the things, that anarchism is build around: Mutual Aid.

And guess what: That kinda is something that human society for the longest time has been build around. (See also what I wrote a few weeks ago about gift societies before money was a thing.)

Mutual Aid is just, what it sounds like: Helping each other in ways we can help. Which can mean a lot of different things, because different people have different abilities to help.

You know, one of the things I liked about the early pandemic with the lockdown and what not was, that people rediscovered Mutual Aid, because a lot of people did not only need it, but also had the time to do it.

And what we really need to learn is, that Mutual Aid does not mean that everyone does exactly the same for each other (in terms of workload). Because some people just have more capacities than other people. And that is okay.

Too often Mutual Aid when discussed in media kinda only focuses on financial aid. And do not get me wrong: Helping someone to cover essencial costs is absolutely 100% a form of Mutual Aid. But... This is still very much caught within the capitalist thinking. And it can be so much more. So... Let me talk what else Mutual Aid can be:

Cooking for each other/for your neighboors. Maybe you have this old guy in the neighboorhood who just cannot properly cook for himself, because he just cannot stand for long enough to do it. Or maybe there is this single mom with two kids who works long hours and just does not have the energy to properly cook afterwards. And you might be cooking either way. So maybe you can cook for them, too?

Something we saw in the pandemic a lot: Going grocery shopping for your friends or neighbours. People were unable to go shopping because they themselves got infected with COVID or were immuno compromised? Folks went shopping for them. Why not keep it up? Covid is not over. Also, that old lady downstairs might have issues carrying her own groceries.

Repairing all sorts of things for other people. Be it their broken computer, their broken bike or car, or be it fixing that hole in their clothing. You have the skills to fix it? Why not fix it for them then, instead of forcing them to either buy new stuff or have it fixed for a ton of money.

Or one thing my roommate will always do for me: Cut my hair. That, too, is mutual aid. I need that hair cut. She will do it for me. That, too, is mutual aid.

Or if you are skilled in sowing, maybe actually sew clothes for people who cannot afford proper ones (aka clothing that is not gonna fall apart after a year)? That, too, is mutual aid.

And there is this friend who needs to go somewhere but does not have a car and the place is not easily reachable with other modes of transportation? Yeah, driving them is another form of Mutual Aid.

I could go on and on about this, babysitting, petsitting, helping someone clean, borrowing tools and so on... I think you get the idea, though. Mutual aid is... surprisingly easy. And most people already give it out on a pretty regular basis.

Because, again: People are actually pretty darn decent. We usually do things for each other because doing things for each other actually feels kinda good.

So... yeah. Maybe think about that. And think about how great society would be if more people were doing this.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

I ADORE your writing (especially your possessive ghost headcannons🫣)

this thot has been rattling around my head for WEEKS I wanna see your take on it

imagine like needing to borrow someone’s shirt (idk urs got ruined or something) and ghost gives you one (it’s massive let’s not lie) and we’re out in the shared living space in the safe house talking to the boys and ghost goes feral (maybe has to excuse himself and everyone’s like ….okayyy and he comes back once people are gone and shows u how much he likes seeing you wear his stuff)

idk you can ignore this

thank you, love your work

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (in his thoughts) words: 1,208 warnings: SMUT [masturbation, dirty thoughts], ghost clearly has a thing for seeing you in his clothes.

a/n: sorry this took so long, anon. thank you so much for your sweet words!

[masterlist]

[part II]

The safe house didn’t have much room at all, but it wasn’t meant to. It wasn’t some long-term living arrangement. You all were meant to do what you needed to do and get out.

Simon didn’t mind sharing the space, he had been in much smaller spaces before. The one thing that was different this time was you.

He couldn’t quite remember the last time he shared such a close space with the fairer sex. And for some reason, it made him nervous like he was a young boy all over again. You were one of them so he didn’t understand why you had that effect on him.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to feel the way he did when he walked in to see you wearing his hoodie. He froze in place and you all stopped talking.

“Hey Simon,” Soap said, breaking the ice, but Simon’s eyes focused on you.

“That’s mine,” he said. She knows that, you idiot.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I was a little cold and I just grabbed the first thing I found. Um, I’ll take it off,” you offered.

“No, it’s fine,” he said before walking away. The talking resumed behind him as he closed his door and took a few deep breaths. He walked to the bathroom and snatched his balaclava off then splashed his face with water.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured. After a few more moments alone, he decided to join the rest of them. He tried his best to keep his eyes off you, but God, did you look fucking perfect in his hoodie.

“Grabbing another beer. You guys want anything while I’m in there?” you asked, standing.

“Another beer,” Soap requested.

“Not for me,” Gaz said then it went quiet.

“Simon?” you called and he slowly turned to look at you. Damn… He hoped you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes scanned over your body. Not like he could see anything—you were practically swimming in his hoodie and it touched your knees. Still, you were quite a sight.

He wondered how you would look with nothing under it—how he would slowly pull it up your thighs, higher and higher until you were completely revealed to him. Your smooth skin under his rough hands. The sounds you would make when he finally reached your breasts…

“Simon, you okay?” you asked, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Um, nothing for me,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting down. You walked to the refrigerator and bent to grab the beers. He tried, once again, not to look at you, but failed horribly.

He couldn’t see much, but just know his hoodie was touching parts of you that he had only dreamed of and made him feel things he shouldn’t.

The night went on this way—you tempting him without even knowing and him trying not to give into the temptation.

At the end of the night, you stopped him before he went into his room.

“Thanks,” you said before pulling the hoodie up and off and folding it neatly.

“You don’t have to do that,” he told you but you had finished by then.

“Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

“It’s fine.” He wanted to say more but he couldn’t find the words. “Night then…”

“Goodnight.” You walked to your room and he walked into his.

He held the hoodie in his hands and ran his thumb over the material. He knew this piece of clothing well, but somehow it felt new. It was warm because of you and he wondered if…

He felt like a creep, but he bought the hoodie to his nose and smelled it.

“Fuck,” he sighed, feeling ashamed. How could a simple scent get him hard? He threw the hoodie on the bed.

He began to move as if in a daze, undressing down to his boxer briefs which is how he usually slept. After climbing into bed, he eyed the article of clothing that had become this tempting and tantalizing thing. Before he knew it, he was sliding his underwear down just enough to get his cock out.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and began touching himself. He wasn’t going to reach for the hoodie, he wasn’t, but suddenly he wasn’t in control of his actions. His mind—now full of need and lust—pushed him to reach for it…and he did.

Your scent was still on it as he pressed the material against his face and breathed deeply, stroking himself faster.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. He thought of you in his clothes—on top of him, bent over, on your knees. Yes, you would be particularly gorgeous riding him with the hoodie on, everything hidden from him but he would know that you were completely naked under it.

Or bent over. Each of his thrusts send the hem inching up your spine until he decided to grab it and use it as a sort of makeshift handle.

He thought of you wrapped up in his hoodie touching yourself.

“Shit…fuck me…” he whispered, stopping to bring his hand to his mouth and spit before wrapping it around his cock again.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he imagined you, legs spread and touching yourself. You had to pull the sleeves up a bit to use your fingers, but the material still fell down around your hands and rubbed against you—your juices coating the sleeve.

He sniffed at the hoodie deeply and groaned again, shocked at how quickly he was about to cum.

Now he thought about how you would sound when you came. You would probably leave a nice, wet mess on his hoodie and that was fucking delicious.

He came with a low growl of your name, stroking every last drop out.

As he released himself and let his hand fall to his side, he couldn’t help but feel that shame again. He threw the hoodie to the other side of the bed and just looked at it before his face began to burn with embarrassment.

As he cleaned himself, he avoided looking in the mirror. He told himself he would have to put that hoodie away somewhere for a while. It was too close for comfort. As he would say in the field it was danger close.

But he didn’t put the hoodie away. Anyone who knew him knew he never shied away from danger, he embraced it.

He slipped the hoodie on before stepping out of his room, getting that quick whiff of you. It would be gone soon, but for now, he would enjoy it.

But when he saw you, he was overcome with shame again. He avoided eye contact as if looking at you would reveal that he had gotten off to your scent and illicit thoughts.

“That hoodie looks better on you,” you told him.

“Does it? It looked…nice on you, too,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” you said with a sort of innocence that was long lost for him.

“If you need it again just let me know,” he offered.

“I might with all these cold days coming up,” you told him.

“It’s yours. You know where to find it.” With a nod, he walked away leaving you speechless.

[mrwavellswaps]

The Homo-Bomb - Conclusion

(Though this is a wrap-up to the series, I may go back and add more parts to it that are set before this in the future!)

(Make sure to read the ➡️ Prologue ⬅️ first and the other interviews linked with it!)

Wavell hovered quietly over the town of Bellmare, eyes closed and arms crossed as if he were meditating. Over the last couple days he’d interviewed hundreds of people that’d been caught in the magic of his Homo-Bomb in an effort to examine its effectiveness and more notably the anomalies that came with it. By now he already had a good theory as to what had made these anomalies to occur in the first place but he was waiting for his partner to return so they could compare notes in case he’d stumbled across anything interesting that Wavell himself hadn’t.

“Hey! Babe!” Shouted a familiar voice not far in the distance.

Wavell opened his eyes and looked down at the town below to see none other than his boyfriend flying up towards him with a grin. He unfolded his arms and smiled seeing Dane soar through the sky. After a few lessons he’d really taken to flight like a fish to water. The hunk twirled and looped through the air whilst laughing and cheering like a kid on a rollercoaster.

Eventually Dane flew over to his handsome older boyfriend with a stilly cheery look upon his face. “Wow. I don’t think I’m ever going to get over this. Flying is so much fun!” He claimed

The silver haired warlock cocked an eyebrow. “Is that why you didn’t teleport here?”

“Well uhm… no not exactly.” Dane chuckled nervously with a slight blush. “Come onnn Chris. Teleporting is so difficult but flying is so easy and fun.” He explained, referring to Wavell with his current body’s name. “I don’t know how you do it so easily. Every time I try I just end up somewhere random that I don’t wanna be. I try to go to Germany and I end up in Japan. I try to go to Russia and I end up in France. I try to go to Spain and I end up in Egypt!” He complained, thinking back over all his failed teleportation attempts. “I’m afraid if I try it again I’ll end up on the Moon or worse!”

“You’re not gonna teleport yourself to the Moon or Mars or anywhere else other than Earth.” Wavell reassured before teleporting behind Dane and putting a hand on his shoulder. “The magic you hold isn’t strong enough yet to carry you off planet.” He added, making the comment sound somewhat backhanded. “All it takes is practice. Keep trying and eventually you’ll get it right. You used to be a teacher didn’t you? I’d have thought you’d know that much.”

Dane pouted. “Well Magic and Math aren’t exactly the same thing you know. You’re used to it. You’ve had magic your whole life. It’s basically instinct for you. I’m just borrowing magic from you…”

“Not as much as you think.” Wavell muttered as one of his hands moved around Dane’s torso to squeeze one of his thick pecs.

Dane glanced over his shoulder, looking at Wavell quizzically. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

The warlock simply hummed in an amused manner before kissing his boyfriend’s neck. “Don’t worry about it. For now let’s focus on this Homo-Bomb stuff.” He floated around to face Dane directly. “I trust you have plenty of notes to compare against mine from the people you’ve seen?”

Right away the hunk’s face lit up once more. “Ohhhh yeah! Tons!”

“Well let’s head home to compare shall we?” Wavell gave that trademark smirk of his before flicking his wrist and teleporting them both away in a spire of purple smoke.

———

Back at the mansion, Wavell sat behind the desk in his study as Dane pulled up another chair so he could sit across from his boyfriend.

“So let’s see it then. Whatcha got for me?” Wavell asked.

Dane smirked as he reached inside his jacket to pull out a tablet that’d been strapped in tight so it didn’t fall out whilst he was flying. “I wrote down all my notes from the interviews on here. Got some pretty interesting ones too!” He put it down and slid it across the table towards the suited man. “And what about you? Find anything weird?”

Without a word Wavell held out his hand and in a small puff of smoke, a notepad appeared in his grasp. “Quite a few things, yes. I have it all written down here.” He did the same as Dane, placing the notepad on the table before sliding it across.

“Just a regular old notepad?” Dane chuckled. “You could probably catalogue stuff better on a tablet you know.”

Wavell shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an old soul. Can’t go wrong with a trusty pen and paper.” He argued though Dane couldn’t help but feel it was partially the influence of Wavell’s middle aged silver fox body. “Right. Let’s get to it shall we? I’ll read over your notes, you read over mine. When we’re done we’ll compare and compile everything we found out.” Wavell then reached across the desk to grab his glasses before slipping them on. He didn’t actually need them but it was a force of habit, another influence from Chris’ body.

The pair took their time to scan through each other's notes. Wavell scrolled through Dane’s tablet, seeing how he’d categorised his studies into standard homo-bomb cases where the expected changes were made and unusual cases where the homo-bomb had different or additional effects. Meanwhile Dane flipped through Wavell’s notepad to see that he’d colour coded it. His regular cases had blue stars next to them, the cases where additional effects took place had purple stars while the cases where something completely unexpected happened had red stars. It was simple but easy to follow.

Once they’d both had time to read through the other’s findings and discuss them a little, they decided to compare. It seemed that despite the various anomalies, the majority of cases had the intended results. Straight men in the town being targeted by the homo-bomb and being turned gay. This accounted for just under 80% of the results which on its own sounds like a lot but considering the sheer amount of people that were affected, that still left well over a hundred anomalies, big or small.

The anomalies spanned from a multitude of different things. To begin there were anomalies that were only minor changes that both Wavell and Dane encountered. These would usually be straight men that had been turned gay as per the homo-bombs initial intention however they might also show a change in their physical or mental attributes. A very common physical change that was noted was how many men experienced slight to extreme penis growth. Some even going from what would be considered below average to extremely hung. Others also experienced things like beard or body hair growth that they’d previously not been capable of, increases in height, changes to their facial structure, larger hands and/or feet and more. In terms of mental changes the most common was increasing confidence to varying degrees but things like general intelligence and improved motivation were also frequently noted.

There were also cases that took these to a more extreme degree by perhaps experiencing multiple physical changes or ones that were more pronounced. For example there were a large handful of men that experienced things such as significant muscle growth alongside increased height and body hair all at once. Changes that were so intense that they looked like completely different people afterwards. In this vein there were also a small group of people that changed race. Three white men and one asian man became black, one white man became asian, two black men and one asian man became white and lastly one other white man became latino.

Then there were the weirder cases. Ones where the homo-bomb went completely against what it was planned to do. Deviating so much that you’d think these people had an entirely different spell cast upon them. Some of these cases included a few straight women being affected, a demographic the homo-bomb was never programmed to affect. However instead of flipping their sexualities, it flipped their genders instead and transformed them into men. Cocks, beards, muscles and sharp features replacing their formerly feminine bodies.

Adding to the strange cases, there were also two instances where men’s bodies had transformed in a way to look identical to another man in their lives. Becoming their twin in a sense. In one of these cases the man who transformed to become a twin of someone else was already a gay man so, like the straight women, the homo-bomb shouldn’t have even targeted him to begin with. And yet it did.

This seemed to happen a few times with men that were already gay. The homo-bomb should’ve left them alone but instead it decided to latch onto them and make changes. In most cases these were simple physical changes once again like changes to their size and muscle mass as well as their features and more. However there were two men in particular, one encountered by Wavell and the other by Dane, who had originally been gay and the homo-bomb had flipped their sexualities to make them straight instead. Quite literally doing the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do.

Wavell used a little magic to print Dane’s digital notes into physical form on paper while also deconstructing his notepad to pull apart the pages so that they almost looked like large post it notes. With that he compiled all of their notes neatly on the desk before them in organised sectors before ushering Dane to come round to his side of the desk,

“Alright so on this side we have the successful cases.” Wavell pointed towards the right side of his desk where the majority of his and Dane’s notes were stacked neatly in a couple of piles. “All straight men that were simply turned gay by the homo-bomb as planned.”

He then nodded towards the middle of the desk. “Here are all the semi-successful cases. Straight men that were turned gay but also experienced other changes along with it.”

Finally Wavell gestured towards the left side of the desk were only a handful of notes from each of them sat. “And other that side are the unsuccessful cases where the homo-bomb affected people in completely unprecedented and unintentional ways.”

The warlock leaned back in his comfortable leather chair before glancing over his shoulder at Dane. “So what do you think? What caused all of these anomalies?” he asked. “I’ve already got a pretty good idea as to how and why this happened but I want to hear what you think.”

Dane took a step towards the desk and glanced over the notes again. “Well… my first thought was that your homo-bomb wasn’t ready right? You said yourself that it was a prototype, didn't you? Maybe it just has some kinks to work out? Or, kinks to work in perhaps.” He sniggered. After all it wasn’t as if these anomalies weren’t incredibly exciting to see and explore. “Though I can’t think as to what in particular would cause such a wide variety of deviations. I mean the same spell that was meant to turn straight men gay also turned some women into men! Why would it do that?” Dane scratched his chin in thought, trying to think of a possible link between some of these vastly different changes.

“You know I thought the same thing at first. That is until I noticed a certain trend between each and every one of these deviations.” Wavell twiddled with the pencil in his hand before slipping it on his ear. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yourself.”

“A trend? But I don’t…”

Wavell tapped two different cases on the table. One being the case of a man that’d not only become gay but also changed races going from being a white man to being black while the other case was that of an already gay twink who grew into a huge muscle daddy with a newfound desire for dominance. “What do these two cases have in common? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not the transformation itself.”

Dane looked down perplexed. Besides both being caused by the homo-bomb, what other things did these cases have in common? Other than them both being men before the homo-bomb struck, he couldn’t think of much. “I don’t get it. What am I not seeing right now?”

“Re-read the notes. Look over the parts where the subjects describe their feelings towards their transformations.” Wavell took the two cases and handed them to Dane.

Now with the cases in hand, Dane did as Wavell suggested and scanned through the notes yet again. This time focusing on the feelings of the subjects. The white guy who’d become black. When describing his physical transformation stated how he’d never felt truly comfortable as himself before and had always desired to be like the black men he surrounded himself with. The gay twink who became a hairy daddy. He mentioned that he always had a deep sexual desire towards hairy daddies just like the one he’d become. That was it. It had to be! “It’s their desire! The anomalies caused by the homo-bomb were actually its magic granting the deep desires of those wrapped in its magic!”

The warlock nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He gestured towards the array of cases that weren’t fully successful. “You can point to any one of these cases and the subjects being interviewed all hint towards the same thing. That whatever find of transformation they went through was something they’d desired. The women that switched genders wanted to be men. The men who grew beards and body hair always wanted to be hairier. The men who grew bigger cocks always wished to have bigger packages. It all leads back to desire.”

“Yeah I see it now! That has to be the connection between them.” Dane placed the two cases back with others. “But that said, do we really know why your homo-bomb started doing this? Granting desires instead of just doing what it was supposed to do?”

Wavell placed his elbows on the desk before interlocking his finger and resting his bearded chin upon them. “You already said it yourself. The homo-bomb just likely wasn’t ready yet. There’s probably some kinks I need to work out to tighten the spell some more.”

Of course that was one reason. But Dane knew Wavell. That couldn’t have been the only reason right? Even if the homo-bomb was a prototype, his boyfriend was far too clever for it to only have an 80% success rate. There was something more and Dane already had an idea as to what it was. He’d noticed it on the night Wavell enacted the spell.

“You know I could be wrong but… on the night you launched the homo-bomb, you were still Kyle Wavell.” Dane began, capturing the warlock’s attention. “You admitted yourself that when you’re in the form your magic can get a little sloppy at times. And you did seem a little… how do I put this? Trigger happy when you launched that spell.”

Wavell was silent for a moment before answering. “I wasn’t sloppy.” There was a small twinge of annoyance in his voice. “Not with a spell like that. Even as Kyle I made sure to perform it exactly as I’d planned.”

Dane placed his hands on Wavell's shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Well maybe it was something else then? All I’m saying is that I don’t think the spell not being perfect was the only problem. After all, lots of unsuccessful subjects weren’t even supposed to be targeted in the first place and yet they were even if they were outliers.” He reasoned. “Why would the homo-bomb do its job correctly for the most part but then deviate in some rare cases to the extent that it did? Sure some straight guys growing a few extra pounds of muscle after being turned gay is one thing but women being targeted and turned into men as well as already gay men being targeted specifically to do a physical transformation? Why would your magic do that?”

The silver fox sighed as he leaned back into the admittedly very nice massage Dane was giving him. “Well it wasn’t me being careless but… I think you might be right in terms of it being something to do with my other self.” He glanced down at his hands, currently still in the form of Chris Wavell of course. “When I’m like this I feel calm and composed so it stands to reason that my magic acts the same.” He then thought to his other self. Kyle Wavell. The version of Wavell when he takes on the form of the young hunky meathead he also absorbed. “But when I’m Kyle I’m… more erratic. The cockiness that comes with that body makes me brash and even chaotic at times.” He smiled as he closed his eyes. “That’s why I love it so much. It’s the perfect way to balance out this form.”

“Chaotic…” Dane lingered on that word. That’s when it hit him. “Wait. You said that when you’re like this, when you’re Chris, your magic is just as calm as you are right? So what if the same applies to Kyle! What if your magic becomes just as chaotic as you do when you’re Kyle!”

Wavell blinked. “Hm. You could be right.” He mumbled.

“I’ve gotta be! Your magic wasn’t just transforming people you’d targeted beyond their sexualities but it was also randomly latching onto people that it shouldn’t have to cause even more unnecessary changes. To cause more chaos! It makes sense!” Dane was grinning ear to ear after having such an epiphany.

The warlock looked down at his hands. “I’ve never known my magic to deviate like this when I’m in that form but then again I’ve never performed a spell like that on such a mass scale before either. I suppose it stands to reason that when unleashed in such a high volume and left to its own devices, my magic could act in a more chaotic manner in accordance with my personality when casting it.” It wasn’t something Wavell had ever considered but he had to admit Dane could most certainly be right. If anything it seemed like the most logical explanation. It was almost a little embarrassing that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

Wavell took off his glasses before getting up from his chair. “It’s certainly a compelling theory. Though of course it’s still just a theory. I’ll have to do some more testing myself to see if there’s any merit to what you’re saying.” He explained. “That said, I think you’re right. Even as a prototype there’s no way I could’ve cast that homo-bomb so poorly as to create that many deviations. It’s simply not a possibility.” Wavell claimed, thinking very highly of himself as usual. “Regardless, these anomalies did make for a very interesting experiment don’t you think?”

“For sure! I had a ton of fun seeing all the weird and wacky things your crazy magic did to people.” Dane beamed. “I’m just jealous you got to interview that one guy who was a merge of two people! That sounds just amazing! A small nerdy guy and a big jock fusing to become one huge hunk? I can’t even begin to imagine how hot that would’ve been to see.”

Wavell laughed. “We’ll have to go visit him sometime. I’ll get him to show you the video recording he has of the night it happened. I have no doubt you’ll be wanting a copy of it to watch in your spare time.”

“If it’s as hot as you described it in your notes then absolutely.”

Having reviewed all of their cases in the little experiment, Wavell waved a hand over the table causing the notes to start flying around before all stacking themselves neatly on the side of his desk. “I’ll find a place for them later. Right now though how’s about you and I blow off some steam? A little celebration for a job well d-.” The warlock hardly had a chance to finish before he was cut off by a pair of lips smashing against his own

“Mmmm sorry. You’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help myself.” Dane swooned as he reached around and groped Wavell’s perky ass. “I know you usually like to top or switch but after practically solving the reason behind the deviations, don't you think I deserve a little reward? Like maybe… you being a total bottom for the next couple hours as I destroy that perfect bubble ass of yours?” Dane smirked a little, showing a more confident and dominant side to himself that didn’t come out all too often as he gave Wavell’s ass a quick smack through his tight suit pants.

Wavell, amused by this, couldn’t help agreeing. “Fine. I suppose you do deserve a little something. I probably wouldn’t have come to that conclusion without you so…” He leaned in and gave Dane another quick kiss before whispering. “For the next few hours my ass belongs to you.”

With that Dane didn’t waste any time in reaching around Wavell’s body and quite literally sweeping him off his feet, getting quite the chuckle out of the older man. Dane then proceeded to carry Wavell out of the study and towards the bedroom where he was going to have his way with the warlock. Smirking down at his handsome boyfriend knowing damn well he wasn’t going to stop punishing Wavell’s cocky ass until he’d been filled to the brim with cum. It wasn’t often he could convince Wavell to be a complete bottom so he was definitely going to make the most out of it.

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