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eetherealgoddess · 2 days

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Can you make a fem reader whose is a martial artist with a yan bonten but she doesn’t let them get her easily

ik it's been a while y'all but don't worry bc i will be getting through your requests!!

idk much about martial arts so I’m just gonna do my best with the fighting scene. hope you enjoy!

also, why am i more inclined to write when i’m high 😩

ꨄFight For Your Lifeꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Bonten Au

❦You’ve been on the run from your childhood friends❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Fight For Your Life

The platforms of your shoes slap against the wet concrete, puddles of water splashing as you ignore the rain falling on your skin. Your bloody clothes hugging against your body uncomfortably as the street lights glow amongst the dark sky, the empty buildings sitting under as you run past with squinted eyes. Your lips are apart as you take in quick breaths, though you tried to keep the panting steady. The adrenaline running through your veins made it easier to ignore the goosebumps caused by the cold air hitting your dermis and the red liquid running down your nose.

You didn’t know how long it had been since you ran from your totaled car. It was amazing how you slipped away, not expecting the driver of the car to have died on impact. You knew exactly who sent the sheep, snarling as you remember the men you couldn’t seem to escape for long. Although you made it far enough to stay in a motel a great distance away from Japan, you still had a long way to go.

I’m so tired of this shit.

It’s frustrating having to travel from place to place, continuously spending a limited amount of money just to be free from the grasp of the yakuza. If you would’ve known that you would be abducted as an adult by your childhood friends who disappeared without any warning, you wouldn’t have become close to them in the first place. To have been so devoted to them and the rest of the gang, only for them to abandon you and reappear without warning, snatching you up and treating you as property rather than a person, murdering most of your loved ones without a care of how that could affect you. Not only is the situation painful but demeaning. How could they treat you like that? No explanation for the disappearance nor the behavior, not that you needed it. Who they are now explains everything you need to know.

Ignoring the tightness of your chest became harder as you slowed your pace, halting your movements before bending over, hands on your knees. You gripped the fabric of your pants as your eyes closed, head dropping as you struggled to steady your breathing. Your tears of frustration mix with the droplets of rain, finally lifting your body and rubbing your sleeve against your eyes, only for the moisture to return.

Your eyes widen as bright lights flash behind you before you swiftly turn your body to face the car speeding toward you. The loud engine roars as the vehicle darts down the hill through the fog. You search around your surroundings for a good hiding spot amongst the empty stores. You huff before running behind a structure closest to you. You find a dumpster, cursing as you open it and climb in, ignoring your discomfort for bacteria as you cover your nose and close yourself into the darkness, praying to not feel anything crawling on you as you rub your face with both hands, smearing the blood from your nose.

You breathe in through your nose and release from your mouth, ignoring the overwhelming stench as you listen for anyone close. The pouring rain made it difficult to hear any footsteps if someone were to walk near. You closed your eyes as you pant into your cupped hands quietly. You patiently stay in your spot for what feels like a while, planning to hide in the dumpster all night long if you have to. The phone you bought when you ran from Bonten was lost in the wreck, hidden behind the broken machinery and shattered glass so you had no way to contact anyone to help, not that you knew anyone. You also didn’t know if the police would help you anyway considering Bonten has some of them wrapped around their fingers.

The top of the dumpster is snatched open, rain pouring as the sound of your screaming covers the droplets landing on the full sacks of trash. You struggle against the hold on your wrist as you’re yanked out of the hiding place, feet meeting the ground.

“The more you struggle the harder this will be for you!” The man growled, attempting to hold you in place. When he pulls you toward him with his grip tightening, you straighten your posture before pulling your head back and slamming it against his forehead causing him to release you as he grabs his head in pain. Running on nothing but adrenaline, you dash away from the man as you ignore the throbbing ache of your head, only to run in the direction of two more men speeding towards you.

“Shit!” You hiss before turning back around.

“Get her idiot or it’ll be our asses!” One of the men exclaimed on his way toward you as he faced the original male whose face is still scrunched in pain.

Just as you were about to pass the man who attacked you, he reached for you in which you dodged before continuing to make your escape. Before you could succeed, you are snatched by the collar of your top and yanked back. You gasp as you feel the sting from the sudden pressure on your neck, though your shock doesn’t last long.

“Gotcha you bit-!” He grunts and bends over, releasing you in the process when you elbow his stomach with as much strength as you could muster, so much so you release your own throated shriek. Before you could run the next man comes forth, pulling his arm back before landing a punch on your cheek. Your face hangs to the side in reflex as your palm immediately meets your cheek, eyes wide as you wince in pain.

Before he could make another move, you use your fist to back hand the man’s face before landing a punch on his cheek with the same arm, his body wobbling back as he tries to keep balance. You shove him just as the third male comes to ambush you from the side, both of you landing painfully on the ground with you at the bottom. The puddle of water mixed with dirt and grime splashes as you thrash in his hold as he grasps your wrists and forces them next to your head, squeezing as you howl in agony.

Seeing an opening all the while your face is scrunched with fresh blood oozing down your cheek, you take the opportunity to knee the man’s midsection. His eyes widen as his grip loosens, mouth hanging open with a silent scream. You make eye contact before shoving him off of you. Before you can pick yourself up, the original man places the platform of his shoe on your stomach before pressing down hard. Your nails claw at his covered ankles as he glares down at you with a smirk.

“Oh? What is this?” You watch as the color drains from the man’s face. Your own eyes widen at the realization that you had just been caught.

Your head slowly turns to the side, your own eyes meeting two pairs of purple orbs. A certain mullet haired man tsked as he stood in place, flicking the cigarette butt from his fingers before lifting the black gun held by his other hand. A blaring shot echoed in the air, your eyelids met just in time before the red liquid could splatter in your eyes.

As a result, a weight was lifted off of your stomach as you opened your eyes, watching as the other two men had an expression of bewilderment, freezing in their spots as they watched the bloody corpse drop to the ground, pieces of the brain and skull lying all around the wet ground. You stare at the situation with wide eyes as you slowly sit up, leaning on your trembling arms as you watch both males take a step back with their hands in surrender.

“Come on boys, don’t cower on us now.” The tall man says, running his fingers through his short streaked hair, a sly smile on his face as his other hand holds the black umbrella both him and his brother stood under.

“Pathetic.” Rin states before he turns on his heel, slowly walking away from the scene, Ran follows alongside. They don’t give you another glance.

Escaping your trance, you went to jump up, only for your arms to be grabbed by the two men. You thrash as your feet lifts from the ground, your biceps slightly sliding against their wet hands as the rain continues pouring. You didn’t stop your struggle even when nearing the familiar black suv that caused your heart beat to accelerate. Sweat mixed with the droplets sliding against your forehead as the pressure in your chest became more prominent the closer you got to your entrapment. You pull your arms with all your might against the growling males’ holds, attempting to use your feet to kick them, only for them to dodge and grips tighten.

“Don’t do this.” You plead, bargaining for your freedom.

“We got no choice, lady.” The guy on your left responded.

“You have to have a wife or daughter or something, guys! Please!” Your eyes burn with moisture caused by frustration, your eyebrows furrow as you glance between the men who hold you.

“Shut up!” The guy on your right hissed. “We’re doing this to keep them safe. Your well being is worth nothing to us so just accept your fate.”

Your head hangs low as you’re dragged to the car, the tinted window rolling down as a blur of white reaches your peripheral, right before the men holding you halt in front of the vehicle. You hear footsteps before a tight grip reaches your chin, forcing you to meet golden eyes that seem to glow through the rainy night. A blonde strand hanging on the left side of his face, the rest of his black locks pulled back in a messy ponytail. His empty orbs bore into you as you seem to internally cower from the strange expression.

Your discomfort increases as time goes on, the sound of the rain hitting the pavement masking the silence as you continue to hold eye contact. The corners of his lips curve upward before you can comprehend his next move. The tight grip released on your left arm before you hear a thud against the ground. Your eyes widened as you eye the injured male, turning your gaze back to the man who gives a sheepish smile, rubbing his bruised knuckles as he chuckled.

“You really know how to make a guy angry, Y/n.” He scratched the back of his neck before looking to the side as his smile dropped. “Running off like that wasn’t cool.”

You scoff before shaking your head angrily. You couldn’t believe his deflecting. They treat you like a pet. It’s degrading and abusive. The lack of respect as close as they were before is disgusting. Before you could respond, the cocking of a gun snatched your attention away from the tiger tattooed male in front of you and towards a certain pink haired man who now stood outside of the car. The barrel of his gun aimed right at your torso, your body tightening as you lose your breath.

His scars stretch as he snarls shifting his aim quickly before pulling the trigger. A loud shot rings out, echoing throughout the empty street. Your breathing slows down as the pounding of your heart is the only sound you can hear, followed by a ringing in your ears as the final grip releases you to the ground. The water pellets fall on your face as you feel pressure on your front as you stare at the sky, a warm liquid forming under your torso as your lips hang slightly apart.

You barely hear the car doors opening as your hearing goes in and out, five figures hovering over you as they observe your figure. Crouching down closest to your face, the platinum haired male who gives you an expression of emptiness uses a hand to caress the left side of your face, thumb tracing your temple. He leans over, his warm breath connecting with your ear.

“If you won’t let me have you, death will.”

As your hearing comes back and vision clears you watch as the men with solemn gazes turn and leave your vicinity. Mikey pulls back before picking himself up and following his men. You listen as you hear footsteps fade and the car doors open and close. The engine roars before they speed away, leaving you on the wet street.

You were in slight shock considering you couldn’t believe you had just been shot. You knew they were capable of it but the thought of yourself being murdered is unsettling. You stay on the ground for a moment, relieving yourself of the panic attack you just had before you slowly sit up and eye your surroundings. Seeing nobody in the area, you look down and pull your shirt up, grabbing the busted sack that once held fake blood from your cushioned vest. Staring at the sack you took a deep breath before releasing.

This is perfect because now they think I’m dead.

Although you were surprised about the gunshot, you wore a bulletproof vest, along with the fake blood sacks since you had escaped because you knew that there was a chance you might die trying to leave them. Your hands couldn’t help the trembling as you eyed the bloody puddle under you. Seeming to escape the trance, you hopped up from your seat and began to walk in the opposite direction from where you came.

The car’s atmosphere was thick with tension and grief. Although all the men held the same stoic and zoned out expression, their emotions were going haywire with their decision to kill you. Do they regret it? No. They don’t regret it as your punishment nor as a blockage for you to be able to move on without them. Do they wish you had just listened so it wouldn’t come to this? Indeed. Kazutora wipes the stray tear as his head turns to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he leans back in his seat with crossed arms and a crossed leg. Sanzu slowly cleans the gun used to take your life, wiping in slow yet rough strokes, all the while trying to focus on everything but the memory of your body landing on the ground. Now that his anger was gone, he lacked the adrenaline he had originally.

The Haitani brothers sit next to each other in the back of the black suv, Ran smoking a cigar with a tired expression as well as Rin removing a flask from his suit’s jacket and throwing his head back for a good sip. Mikey sat in the passenger’s seat, eyeing through the windshield with nothing but an empty void filling the inside of his chest. He feels nothing and everything at the same time. You used to be so close to all of them. It was a shame but he knew that he couldn’t allow you to live without him. You chose this. This is your fault.

A sudden ringing interrupts everyone as Mikey grabs the phone and hands it to Kakucho who uses one hand to direct the wheel.

“Hello?”

“You what?!”

Everyone’s eyebrows furrow at his reaction. He lowers the phone before handing it to Mikey with a concerned expression. Mikey sets the phone on his ear as he listens to the other person.

“Boss, her body is gone. She’s nowhere to be found.” Kokonoi says as he crouches down to get a closer look at the busted sack. Using a gloved hand to pick it up before it hangs from his fingers and the remaining liquid leaks.

“I have a feeling she faked her death and has escaped.”

Mikey stares ahead with a more focused expression, his eyes slightly wider than usual as he narrows his gaze.

“Find her, now.”

You eye the two lines with wide eyes. Your hands tremble as your fingers barely hold up the test.

“I-I’m pregnant?!” You hiss. You hop from the toilet and slam open the stall door, tossing it into the trash before walking to the sink and recollecting your memory as you try to search for how this could’ve happened because you genuinely had no remembrance of any sexual encounter in the last few months.

“I-I can’t feel…” The tingling in your limbs causes them to limp as you attempt to move your body around, though hands around your wrists prevent you from budging. Legs sit in between yours as the person on top of you leans over to your ear.

“How much of a dosage did you give her this time, Sanzu?” Kazutora asks before he licks a slow trail from your neck to your ear. You squirm under him as you try to find an escape before your body slightly shuts down and you become still as your eyes become heavier.

“G-guys…” You whisper, trying to come back to reality as you feel him adjust on top of you. Your mouth hangs open in a silent grunt as you feel a firm pressure enter your vagina.

“Enough.” The blue eyed male responds while rubbing his thumb along your forehead, taking in your scrunched nosed expression as Kazutora slowly thrusts into you.

“Fuck.” He whispers as he pressed his cock against your cervix, holding it there as his hands snake to the back of your head and neck, squeezing before he pulls his hips back to repeat the same process.

You shut your eyes tight as the girth stretches you, a stinging sensation surrounding your core before your pussy engulfs his cock perfectly. The pain switched to a conflicting pleasure that your own drugged body couldn’t handle. Your head falls back as Sanzu leans over and pulls you into a heated kiss, while Kazutora holds you tightly, his head on the other side of your neck as he accelerates his pace, hips rocking in a steady rhythm purposefully aiming deep against your g-spot.

Ran watched the display to the side with his brother, enjoying the show as they patiently waited for their turn with Bonten’s signature doll. He man - spreads while sitting with his arms resting against the top of the sofa, one arm slightly behind Rin who has his arms crossed. Both brothers ignore their erections as their pants become tighter, listening to the sounds you make as well as the juices colliding.

Mikey sits in a chair, similar to a throne next to the sofa, eyeing the session with his legs spread, leaning over to where his arms rest on his legs. From this angle, you both make eye contact when Sanzu pulls back.

“P-please stop!” You whine out as tears fall, hoping for Mikey to take control of the situation. Unfortunately, the only response you get are Sanzu’s thumbs smearing your tears and groaning from Kazutora in your ear.

Suddenly, he stops his thrusting and pulls back. He sets your legs on his shoulders as he looks down at you with a glazed over expression, red covering his face along with sweat as he repositions himself before leaning over your thighs and thrusting hard. His pace accelerates once more as he brings you both closer to your release. His forehead rests on yours as he thrusts his hips rhythmically against you. His cock slides in and nearly out of your walls as the head kisses your g-spot repeatedly.

“You're taking his cock so well, sweet girl.” The pink haired male whispers against your ear before nibbling the lobe, his hand sliding on your chest towards your neck before circling his fingers around the surface and slightly squeezing. The stimulation becomes too much, the sensation overwhelming as it mixes with the effects of the drug. Your hips meet his deep thrusts as you cry out.

“So. *thrust* Fucking. *thrust* Good, baby.” Kazutora’s raspy soft spoken words meet your ear as his eyes bore into yours. Biting his lip, he watches as your hands meet his chest as his grip tightens on your legs, along with the thrusts forcing you into having a violent orgasm along with sending him into his own as he moans out your name and his hips move sloppily, riding out both of your orgasms as sweat drips from your skin.

Your hand shakily reached your mouth as you recall when they would drug you up and proceed with sexual acts against your will. You have no clue which of them would even be the father. You knew you had to figure something out but you just didn’t know what. You quickly leave the public restroom and ask to use the cashier’s phone. Once you dial the number, you set it to your ear.

“Draken? C-can you please help me?”

“Ugh, girl come here!” You sigh as you eye the mess left from the little devil.

“What is this?” You question your child, eyeing her golden eyes as you point at the red paint that spilled all over your carpet.

“U-uh, I don’t know mama.” The eight year old responds with a cheeky smile. You shake your head, irritated because of the mess but you breathe out a sigh considering the paint is washable and will be able to be cleaned.

“Yeah, okay. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” You shake your head as your daughter nods. You chuckle to yourself before stating, “And don’t try to lie to me anymore, I can see right through you.”

Your daughter shrugs before leaving to grab some of the supplies. You couldn’t believe how much she grew to look like Kazutora. It was haunting and hard to deal with at times but she had nothing to do with it so the love for your child was enough distraction from how she was created. Before you could follow and help her, you heard a knock on your door. Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting anyone to have appeared so you ignore it.

Once the knocks stop, the ringing of your phone catches your attention. You snatch the device from your pocket and lift it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say to the unknown number.

“You have something of mine, and I’ve come to get it.” Before you could react, your windows were shattered as you crouched down and covered yourself. Immediately going into action, you run to the storage closet in the hallway to grab your child.

“Mama?” She cries out in surprise at the commotion.

“We have to go now!” You snatched her with one hand and pressed a contact with another.

“D-Draken! They broke i-!” Before you could finish, the phone was knocked out of your hand and you were forced to the ground, releasing your child in the process as she’s snatched by a person you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Awe, you really do have my eyes.” Kazutora says warmly with a smile as he holds your child in his arms, the poor girl crying in confusion and fear.

You're cuffed before you’re forced to stand up and face five of the men you never wanted to see.

“M-Mikey, please! She needs me! Don’t t-take her from me!” You yell in hopelessness, the tears falling uncontrollably as you watch Kazutora caress your daughter’s hair. The leader only stares down at you before turning on his heel and walking away, motioning for the other men to snatch you and follow.

“Wow, Y/n. You know, you really had us fooled.” Rin says as he grabs one arm. Ran stands on the other side and mimics his brother’s hold on the opposite arm.

“It’s silly really. We knew only an hour after you escaped and followed you up until this point.”

“You should be thanking the king for not killing you on the spot.” Sanzu growls with his head turned slightly back to make eye contact with you.

“On the bright side we can all be a family, now.” Kazutora beamed.

Truth be told though they would never say it out loud, they were all thankful that you hadn’t actually died. They found it humorous that you thought you could escape their radar at all. Now having been caught, you could only stare ahead, in hopes that if you comply, you could possibly come up with a plan to safely take your child and completely leave your past behind.

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skelletonscloset · 1 day

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simon x sick!reader

wc— 973

cw— sick fic!! reader is gender neutral. emetophobia warning!! > mention of throwing up. simon being a good boyfriend.

a/n— this is my first official addition to this page!! i’m still getting used to this whole “writing and posting” thing, so i’d love feedback and constructive criticism :3 enjoy!!

your body felt hot. the weight of your sheets on top of you was all you could feel aside from the way your eyes felt glued shut and how your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your back.

the past few days you knew you were starting to catch something, a few sneezes there and a small headache there — but you’d never guess you’d start to feel this bad.

now, it’s not like you were running to the bathroom and hurling the remains of your dinner from the past night into the toilet bowl, no. however, you did feel like the inside of your throat was being clawed at by a very angry cat and your mouth was dry from not being able to breathe clearly from your nose.

forcing your eyes open, you groan as you stir from your warm and slightly damp spot of the bed, your eyes adjusting to your dark room. you lick your lips, attempting to bring back some moisture, but they dried up again almost immediately.

“ugh… si?” you groan, looking to his side of the bed where he was. well, where he would be. you blinked your eyes, lifting your hand and placing it in his spot and feeling the warmth of his body that was left behind. huh.

you peered at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:41 am.

“si?” you weakly called out again, your nasally voice ringing throughout your shared bedroom. a few moments pass before you hear the heavy padding of feet approaching, a muscular forearm gently nudging the door open.

simon’s dark silhouette walked in, a mug of something in hand and a thermometer in the other. he shuffled closer, setting the mug down on the nightstand and turning on the small lamp next to the edge.

the lamp illuminated his dark eyes, which shifted from the thermometer’s buttons to you after turning it on. his short, blond locks were tousled from sleep, scratching the scruff on his jaw.

“woke up a couple minutes ago. felt ya’ start to get hot,” he grunted, holding the thermometer up to your forehead as he took your temperature. after the beep, he squinted, reading back your temperature in his gruff voice.

“99.8” he stated, setting the thermometer down and sitting on the edge of the bed, rugged body slightly facing you as one leg folded onto the sheets and the other hung off the bed.

“nothing too bad, yet.”

coaxing you to sit up, he carefully brings the cup of tea towards you, pausing when your hands don’t come up to take it. he looks up at you, watching you eye the steaming cup suspiciously. he sighs

“yes, it has enough honey.” he clarifies, watching your expression relax. he held his hand beneath yours as you took hold of the mug, softly blowing on it before you took a sip.

you hummed in satisfaction, affirming his words. “thank you, si,” you murmured, “but aren’t you going to get sick too?”

“don’t worry about that, lovie. focus on you gettin’ better,” his voice rumbled. you took a few more sips of the tea, soothing your throat little by little, before deciding you were too sweaty to finish it.

you handed the mug to him before coughing into your elbow, trying to clear out the feeling of glass in your throat but failing.

“i’m so sweaty…” you groan, watching as simon automatically puts the mug down and gets up, moving to the closet as he looks for something lighter for you to wear.

he’s back within a few seconds, one of his large t-shirts in hand and a pair of sleep shorts just in case.

“up,” he nudges your arms, helping you take off your long sleeve shirt which was slightly cold with your sweat. tossing it to the side, he rolled up the other shirt, gingerly slipping the sleeves down your arms as his shirt draped across your form.

“shorts?” he asked, noting how you already weren’t wearing pants, opting to sleep in your underwear instead. when you shook your head, he walked to the closet once more, putting the shorts away and your shirt in the hamper.

“thank you, si,” you whispered tiredly.

“none of that. need anything else? some water?”

“yes, please”

he walked out of the room.

you wondered how you ended up with such a caring man as your boyfriend. he’s practically a mind reader at this point. you looked down, eyeing the shirt he picked out for you. it was an old shirt of his, one he used to wear frequently before he became a part of your life.

the shirt was a dark gray, small holes between the seams of the sleeves. it was your favorite one, hence how worn out it was. you took the soft fabric in your hands, bringing it up to smell the familiar scent.

simon walks back into the room with a fresh glass of water, noticing you. he gently tuts to himself, setting the glass next to the mug he had forgotten to take to the kitchen with him.

he plopped back into your shared bed, your body falling towards him as the bed shifted from his weight. settling the sheets over his lower half, he handed you the glass of water, waiting patiently for you to be finished. when you were, he set the glass back down, the two of you getting comfortable once more.

he subconsciously brought you towards him as you lied back down, his strong arm pulling you into his broad, clothed chest. you sighed again, breathing him in as you tried to forget about the oncoming congestion you felt. your hand settled on his waist, your legs entangled with his.

“i love you, simon.” you exhaled, closing your eyes once more.

“love you too, sweetheart,” he grumbled into your hair.

maybe getting sick wasn’t gonna be so bad after all.

~🧸

#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 #bun babbles #x reader

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beautifulbows924 · 2 days

Text

Common Ground

Act One!Astarion x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 650+

A/N: This fic is sort of a combination of a few of the (comparatively) similar requests I received, along with one particular scene that’s been running wild and ping ponging around in my brain for far too long. I somehow convinced my partner (who could not care less about fanfiction, but adores me) to proofread this for me. So any complaints should definitely be addressed to them—as I was, unfortunately, far too sleep deprived to read over this anymore than I already have. As always, I hope you enjoy—feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments, and happy reading! :)

Warnings: Angst, intentional allusions to past SA (the circumstances are left purposefully vague), concerning both Astarion and the Reader, writer will often suddenly break off into unexpected poetic tangents, a smidge of fluff—if you squint, & perhaps a bittersweet ending (depending on how you interpret it?)

“Darling”, Astarion carefully poses his words, “Are you certain that you’re quite alright?”

You’re terrified. He can see it. Your pulse is visibly thumping beneath your skin, and there’s a tremor to your hands he’s certain wasn’t there before.

But why now?

You’ve told him you trust him, demanded the others leave if they weren’t willing to accept the gift that is his company, and mere seconds ago offered yourself to him as a meal—to what you, with both intimate knowledge and first hand experience, know is a hungry vampire.

He would be questioning your sense of self preservation, or alternatively, your sanity. If he wasn’t awed by just how quickly you’ve managed to sway your companions' loyalty.

It takes a moment for you to notice he’s asked you a question. But once you have, you nod.

He sighs, clicking his tongue at you. That vacancy behind your eyes, it’s unnerving, too familiar. “Don’t lie, it doesn’t suit you. What is it?”

Your gaze shifts, opting to search for what must be a rather interesting spot somewhere behind him.

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion falters. That may have been harsh—if your continued silence is anything to go by. Perhaps, he should have left the lie to rest.

“Dearest”, he works to intentionally soften his tone, shoving past the honeyed lump that rises in his throat, thickly coated with syrup. This little manipulation won’t be ending in a hand naively held between his as he leads you down unassuming crypt steps.

He knows that.

“If you’ve suddenly changed your mind about”, he gestures vaguely between himself and your neck, “I’m sure I can make do with whatever animals find themselves unluckily situated in this part of the forest.”

Humble or selfless certainly isn’t his favorite role to play, but if he wants you to be his personal guard, it seems he may have to make an exception.

“No!” You blurt out, swallowing thickly at the raised brow he sends in your direction, mouth suddenly very dry, “I—It’s not that. I swear to you.”

He tuts, “Ah, but it is something. Hmm?”

You nod again, frustrated tears building in your eyes as each attempt at an explanation falls flat.

“No, it couldn’t—it”, Astarion makes a rather exaggerated motion with both of his hands, clutching his chest in theatrical shock, “Was it Gale?”

You huff, but it’s more exasperated than annoyed.

The left side of his lips lifts.

You drag your own roughly between your teeth.

“Earlier, you made a comment about being quiet, not wanting to disturb my rest”, unsteady hands bury themselves in the fabric of your pants, “Those words, the sudden realization that someone…anyone could have access to my body like that while I slept”, your head slumps forward, “The last time—I can’t.”

Two breaths in.

Two breaths out.

Astarion’s fingers slot into place beneath your chin, tilting it upwards to look at him.

And suddenly all you can see are the differences.

Everything he is appears less forced. No longer are you merely an audience and he an actor, but equals. Those that have found a common ground built upon the cruelty of others.

Far too accustomed to it.

There’s a raw familiarity held within your expression Astarion can’t quite discern.

Perhaps, in another life, someone cared for him. Once. To look at him with such fondness.

He wonders if he deserved it, then.

He allows the hold he has on you to become lighter and lighter, until his arm returns to hang at his side.

You hear a weary sigh, then, gently, “For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry.”

A small smile flutters across your lips, light and without expectation. It’s a kindness he hasn’t yet learned how to navigate—and certainly has not earned, but he yearns for it all the same.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

BG3 Taglist: None yet!

#bg3 #Astarion x unnamed reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x durge #baldur's gate 3 #vampire spawn astarion #gender neutral reader #astarion x you #astarion angst #trigger warning: sa #fluff and angst #bg3 fanfiction

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q-gorgeous · 2 days

Text

Not the Lab

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 7184

No one knows au except dash baxter @xscarletsakurax

warning: dissection, scalpels, its not a very graphic description tho

hehehehhehehe

Danny opened the door and was met with a broad chest. His eyes raised and he met Dash’s gaze. He was leaning against the door frame and was staring down at Danny.

“What do you want, Dash?”

“I’m here for my tutoring session with your sister. Let me in.”

Danny blocked Dash’s step forward. “She’s not even home.”

“Oh.” Dash looked away. “I guess I got the day wrong. Again.”

“Yeah.” Danny stared at him.

Dash looked back up at Danny. “Do you care if I still come in and just work on my homework? Jazz is great at answering my questions when I don’t understand something but she’s also mostly there to redirect me when I lose focus. This place has good learning energy.” Dash gestured with his hands in a big circle.

Danny watched him for a few moments before sighing. “Fine. But if you start messing with anything in here you have to leave.”

Dash nodded. “I’ll just be in the kitchen like when I’m with Jazz.” He walked in and turned back to look at Danny before he walked into the kitchen. “Did you want to work on your homework with me too?”

Danny shrugged and followed behind him. “Might as well. I gotta keep an eye on you if you’re here. Let me just go get my backpack.”

He headed up the stairs and left Dash to walk into the kitchen by himself. He set himself up at his regular spot at the table and started pulling all of his materials out. When he was done he looked up and saw the door to the Fenton’s lab that stared at him every time he was here.

Just as he was thinking about standing up, Danny walked back into the room with his backpack.

“What are you starting with?” Danny asked as he rummaged inside his open backpack.

“Math.” Dash replied. “It’s my worst subject so I’d rather get that done first where the learning vibes are good.”

“I guess I’ll start with that too. Then we can ask each other questions if we need to.”

Dash nodded. “That makes sense.”

They sat there for an hour doing their homework and occasionally asking each other about one of the questions in their textbook. They finally finished the assignment and Dash slouched down and leaned his head over the back of the chair.

“I hate math.”

“Me too.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments before Dash spoke again.

“Want to take a break?”

He brought his head back up to see Danny staring at him. Danny’s cheeks flushed a little and he snorted. “What would we even do?”

Dash looked over Fenton’s shoulder at the lab again.

“We could go take a look in your parent’s lab.”

“No!” Danny shouted.

“Why not?” Dash leaned forward in his seat. “Are they secretly mad scientists experimenting on people down there?”

Danny leveled a stare at him. “No. Other people just aren’t allowed in there. It’s family only.”

Dash leaned back in his seat again and tapped his fingers against his arm. There was no way he’d be able to weasel his way in with that argument.

“What if I invited you to my next party? Would that be enough to let me go downstairs?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Go to one party? Or not get grounded by my parents? That’s not a difficult decision.”

Dash squinted at Danny and stood up. He started making his way around the table and Danny stood up blocking Dash’s path.

“You haven’t been able to take me in years.”

“I’ve been taking your shit everyday.”

Dash groaned.

“C’mon, Fentina! Just let me take a peek down in that so-called lab! I just want one little look.”

Danny placed himself between the basement door and Dash. “No. My parents would kill me if I let you down there.”

“What’s the fuss, anyways? You’ve said yourself that none of your parents' inventions even work because ghosts aren’t real. What’s the harm in just one little peek?” Dash bent down to look Danny in the eye.

“Just because ghosts aren’t real doesn’t mean my parents don’t work with hazardous chemicals. I don’t want you touching something that could burn your skin off or, I don’t know, seal all the orifices in your body closed.” Danny crossed his arms.

Dash snorted. “Yeah, like they have something like that.”

He tried to go around Danny but he moved so he was still in front of Dash and poked a finger into his chest.

“We’re not going down there.”

Dash grabbed the wrist on the hand that was pointing at him.

“Don’t you want us to think you’re cool? I wanna see your parents' cool lab. We could even see if we could fix that new invention of theirs. It would make them super happy.”

Danny stared at him for a few moments, studying his face. “If they couldn’t get it to work properly, I don’t see how we’d be able to do it.”

“So does that mean you want to try?” Dash asked with a smile on his face.

“If it means my parents will be happy afterwards, we can try.”

Finally, Danny turned around and opened the door.

Dash could tell it was a heavy door. It was made of metal and creaked when it was pushed open. A cold waft of air gusted past them and Dash stared down the stairs over Danny’s shoulder. He flicked a lightswitch and the lights over the stairs flickered on.

Danny started walking down the stairs and Dash was still for a moment before following behind him.

“So what’s this new invention of theirs? Some kind of portal?” Dash asked as he studied the metal paneling on the wall.

“Yeah.” Danny responded over his shoulder. “It was supposed to be some kind of ghost portal but when they plugged it in it never turned on. They were really disappointed about it.”

“Do they really believe ghosts are real?”

Danny shrugged. “They’ve got all these studies and measurements. I have no idea how they’ve gotten all this information but they believe ghosts are the cause of all of it.”

They stepped down off the bottom step onto the clean, tiled floor. Dash looked around the basement, taking in all the science equipment they had laying around down there. It was very messy, which heavily contrasted what the rest of the house looked like. He figured the Fenton’s would be more neat than this, especially concerning the hazardous materials Danny was talking about before. He can see why Danny was worried about that. There were green splatters everywhere. On every counter and on the table in the center of the room and he even saw it on the door as Danny pushed it closed.

“Why’s it so messy down here?” Dash asked as he walked further into the lab.

Danny walked over and stood next to him. “One of my chores is to clean the lab and I haven’t had time for it lately.”

Dash shot Danny a look. “Your parents make you clean up their lab?”

Danny shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah.”

“Why are they making you clean up hazardous material? That was an excuse you gave me for why I shouldn’t come down here.”

Danny waved him off. “It doesn’t matter. Besides, I know what I’m doing.”

“If you say so.” Dash went to go look at the mess of items on one of the counters. The green splatters were so vivid. They almost looked like they were glowing. Dash turned and caught a glimpse of what he assumed was the Fenton’s new invention.

“Hey.” Dash nodded his head at the hole in the wall. “What’s that?”

“That’s my parent’s attempt at building a working ghost portal. They don’t know what’s wrong with it.” Danny walked right up to the portal and peered inside. “They said they had an earlier version of this that worked a little better so they thought they had this one right. They’re not sure why it didn’t work.”

“Maybe we can figure it out.” Dash said. “Maybe they overlooked some small detail.”

“Maybe.” Danny turned back around and walked to the opposite side of the room. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a jumpsuit that looked similar to what his parents always wore.

“You have matching outfits with your parents?” Dash snickered.

Danny unzipped the zipper. “They’re supposed to help prevent ecto-contamination.”

“Ecto-contamination?”

“Yeah. It comes from ectoplasm.” Danny stuck his legs into the suit. “That’s what ghosts are made out of and produce. That’s what my parents use for their studies.”

“How do they get their ectoplasm?” Dash asked, studying the green splatters again.

Danny shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think they’ve said there’s just more than average residual ectoplasm in Amity Park or something.”

“Oh. Weird.”

“Yeah.”

Danny turned around and Dash held in a snort.

“Ha! What is that?” Dash laughed and pointed at Danny’s chest.

Danny looked down and groaned. He pulled his dad’s face off of his jumpsuit and threw it in the garbage. “Embarrassing.”

Danny walked up to the portal and stood just outside it, staring.

“What do you think is wrong with it?” Dash asked.

“I have no idea.” Danny replied. “I’m hoping it’ll be something fairly obvious though. If it’s too complicated I won’t be able to do much.”

He started walking inside and he looked all around the portal. Dash wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and he was sure Danny didn’t know either. The further in he walked, the darker he got.

But then everything went wrong.

Dash watched as Danny tripped over something in the portal, and then he heard a soft click. Suddenly the inside of the portal was lighting up and Dash felt his heart fall to his stomach.

This wasn’t good.

The humming got louder and louder and Dash started running forward.

“Danny!”

A moment later a green light so bright it looked white filled the room and Dash staggered back, shielding his eyes. Danny’s screams filled the room. They were so harrowing and pain filled and it had Dash covering his ears closed instead of covering his eyes.

He didn’t know how long it lasted for, if it was moments or minutes, but when Dash finally heard something hit the ground, he risked peeking his eyes open.

When he saw that the bright light was dying down, he opened his eyes the rest of the way and saw Danny laying on the floor in front of him. He looked strange though.

His hair was now snow white and his jumpsuit had been inverted and was now mostly black. Danny looked like he had burns from the portal but somehow they seemed to be healing themselves back up, even the suit. Danny even looked like he was glowing.

Once the green light disappeared into a swirling vortex, Dash ran forward and dragged Danny away from it. Once he deemed them far enough away, he knelt on the ground and pulled Danny into his lap, his back resting against Dash’s legs.

“Danny.” He shook him. His white hair ruffled back and forth from the movement. “Danny. Wake up. Please.”

After the last shake, Danny’s eyebrows furrowed and he groaned. He raised a hand to his forehead and pried his eyes open. He looked around for a few moments before his gaze drifted up to Dash.

“Oh, thank god.” Dash whispered. “I thought you were- I don’t even know if you really are- You look so-” Dash cut himself off as he choked up.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“You went into the portal in that hazmat suit. You tripped over something and fell into the wall and there must’ve been a button on it or something because everything started glowing this scary green color and then you were screaming. You were screaming so loud.”

Danny rubbed a spot on his hand, a vacant stare in his eyes.

“Danny, are you okay? You look so different. What if you’re-”

Suddenly a bright ring appeared around Danny’s waist. They both jumped and watched as it split and traveled over his body. Dash thought he would’ve felt something, but it was like the ring wasn’t even touching him even with Danny’s proximity to him.

When the ring passed over his head and disappeared Danny was left just how he had walked into the portal.

“You’re-” Dashed started. “You’re back to normal.”

“What happened to me?” Danny whispered, still rubbing the spot on his hand.

Dash’s heart rate picked up. His chest started rising and falling faster and the room spun a little.

“We have to go get your parents! We don’t even know what this thing did to you. They would-”

Danny sat up and turned. He covered Dash’s mouth with his hand. “We are not telling my parents. We’re not even supposed to be down here.”

He looked at Dash with wide, shaken looking eyes. “My parents would have killed me if they knew I brought you down here. But I don’t know what they’d do to me if they found out what their portal turned me into.”

Dash’s eyes widened and Danny slowly removed his hand from his mouth.

“I killed you.” He whispered.

Danny shook his. “Don’t say that.” He whispered back. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

Dash ran a hand through his hair. “You died! You stepped out of the portal all glowy and different colors! Then you magical girl transformed!”

“I died but I don’t think I’m dead.” Danny said. “I can still feel my heart beating.”

Dash stopped and looked back up at him. “Really?”

Danny nodded.

“Can I…?” Dash reached a hand out.

Danny nodded again. “It’ll probably help convince you I’m not actually still dead.”

Dash pressed his fingers against Danny’s neck and waited. Then he could feel the soft beats of his heart. He held his hand there for a few more moments before he lowered it.

“What even happened to you?” He whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“What do we do?” Dash asked.

Danny shook his head. “We can’t tell anyone. People would think I’m some sort of freak. And I don’t know what my parents would do.” He looked up at Dash. “This has to stay between us.”

Dash nodded. Who would they tell anyways? No one besides the Fenton’s could really help them. There was no one to turn to.

Danny groaned. “Help me up.”

Dash stood and grabbed Danny by the hands and pulled him up. Dash was about to let go when suddenly Danny started sinking through the floor.

“What the fuck?” Danny shouted panickingly as his feet disappeared into the tiles below them.

Dash kept a tight grip on Danny’s hands. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he let go and Danny disappeared. He pulled Danny up and out of the ground and when Dash set him back down, Danny’s feet were once again solid.

“Never seen that before.” Dash whispered.

Danny just stared at him. “Thanks Sherlock, me either.”

“How do we stop that from happening?” Dash asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe-”

A beeping rang throughout the lab and Dash looked around in a panic. Was something about to blow up? Danny wasn’t nearly concerned enough for that. He did look a bit panicked though.

The beeping died down and Dash looked around him again. “What was that?”

“The ‘someone’s in the driveway alert.’ My parents are home.”

Anxiety spiked in Dash’s stomach and he turned to face the stairs. “Why do they-”

“It doesn’t matter. They can’t find us down here.”

Dash grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him up the stairs.

They were at the top of the steps when they heard the rattling of the front door knob through the door to the lab. Dash ran up the rest of the way as he pulled Danny behind him. Together they pushed the heavy door closed. They rushed back to their seats and sat down just in time for Danny’s parents to walk in.

“Hi, Danny!” Maddie called. “How are you- Oh.”

Maddie paused as she walked into the kitchen, gaze landing on Dash. She looked between the two of them and smiled.

“Dash! It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad to see you two hanging out again after all this time.”

Danny’s gaze landed on Dash. “We’re not friends, Mom. He thought his tutoring session with Jazz was today and asked if he could stay and do homework here. He said the house has ‘good learning vibes.’”

“Oh.” Maddie’s smile fell a little and Dash wasn’t sure how to feel about that. “Well, I hope you two still had a good time.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s just homework.”

“Nevertheless, if you two ever need to-”

“Danny-boy!” Jack bellowed as he walked into the kitchen, carrying three cartons of fudge. “They stocked up on your favorite peanut butter fudge!” He thrust them into Danny’s hands.

“Are all three of these one flavor?” Danny asked, flabbergasted.

“You betcha.” He turned towards the basement door. “Your mother and I are going to start running diagnostics on the portal and try to figure out why it didn’t turn on.”

He opened the door and started walking down the stairs.

“Wish us luck!” Maddie called to them before she followed behind him and closed the door.

Dash stared at it for a moment. “How do you think they’d feel if they knew they just hadn’t actually turned it on.”

“I’m sure it’s just a new addition on a long list of oversights.” Danny said. He stood up from the table and staggered, holding his head.

“Are you okay?” Dash asked.

“I’ve got a killer headache. And my head feels like it’s spinning.”

“Will you be-”

Danny shook his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. You should go before my parents pull us back down into the lab to show us that the ghost portal miraculously started working.”

Danny’s screams rang in his head again. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to step foot down in that lab again.

“Yeah. I should be heading home anyways.”

Dash packed up his backpack and slung it onto his shoulder. Danny walked him to the door and opened it.

“See you tomorrow?” Dash asked.

“Yeah, sure. See you tomorrow.” Danny replied and closed it behind him once he walked out.

Dash stared at the door for a moment before he turned around and walked down the stairs to the sidewalk.

He took a deep breath and gripped his shaking hands onto his backpack straps.

Danny died today. Danny died and they didn’t have any answers. Danny died and it was Dash’s fault for insisting they go into the basement. How could he ever face him again?

The walk from Danny’s house to Dash’s felt way too short. Almost as if he blinked and suddenly he was home.

Maybe if he went to sleep he’d wake up and find out this was all a bad dream. Maybe he could pretend that none of this actually happened.

He quietly unlocked and opened his front door, closing it behind him. He quietly made his way up the stairs to his room and dropped his backpack on the floor before collapsing into bed.

He hoped none of this would be real when he woke up.

~~~~~~~~

Dash wanted to go back to bed.

Dash wasn’t sure he had even wanted to go to school today. His stomach was still roiling and he didn’t want to find out if Danny had actually died yesterday. Maybe he had just imagined the whole thing. Maybe Danny had actually died and was still lying fried on his basement floor right now. Maybe he survived the initial accident but died later that night.

He stood on the sidewalk staring at the school as it towered in front of him. He was already here. He had to go in.

He took a deep breath and was about to start walking when he saw a mop of black hair walking ahead of him.

Danny yawned a big yawn and he looked tired but he was alive.

“Danny!” Dash shouted, waving a hand in the air. Danny turned around to look at him. He looked around them as Dash walked up to him.

“What do you want, Dash?”

Dash stopped short. “I came to see how you were doing. Glad to see you surviving was real.”

“Oh.” Danny shuffled awkwardly on his feet. “Yeah. Still alive. I think I ended up sinking through my bed into the living room last night, though. I woke up at like four in the morning on the living room floor.”

“Oh dang.”

“Yeah.” Danny said as he started walking toward the school. Dash followed after him. “The worst part though was when I tried lifting my arm up in front of my face and I couldn’t see it because somehow my body had turned itself invisible.”

“I’m still wondering just what exactly that portal did to you.” Dash said, lowering his head and his voice closer to Danny. “Like, do you just have ghost powers now or something?”

Danny frowned. “I’m sure it’s more than that. But basically.”

“Man, that’d be so cool.” Dash said. “If I had ghost powers, I’d-”

Dash was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They turned around and were met with Sam and Tucker looking at them.

“What’s going on here?” Sam asked, pointing between the two of them.

“What?” Danny asked, his voice rising in pitch. “There’s nothing going on here. We’re just two guys chatting.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look and smirked at Danny.

“No! Not like that!” A blush rose on Danny’s cheeks and Dash looked between Danny and his friends a couple times before he processed what Danny meant. A blush rose to his own cheeks.

“Well, what’s happening then?” Tucker asked. “Did you guys finally make up?”

Sam looked at him. “Make up?”

Tucker nodded. “Yeah. They used to be friends when we were kids. They had some fight when we were younger. I never really knew what it was about.”

Dash looked at Danny to see him already staring at him. Danny studied him for a few moments before speaking. “Yeah, I guess you can say we finally made up.”

“Cool.” Tucker said casually.

“Cool? That’s it? No questions?” Sam asked him. “You’re not curious at all how they figured this thing out after years of conflict?”

Tucker shrugged. “If they want to tell us they will.”

Sam crossed her arms and huffed. “I guess you’re right.”

They started walking towards the school and Dash and Danny followed behind them.

“Did you want to tell them?” Dash whispered.

Danny looked at him and then looked back at Sam and Tucker. “I… I don’t know. I don’t want them to think I’m weird or a freak.”

“Okay. We can keep it between us for now.” Dash nodded.

Danny gave one curt nod and then quickened his pace to catch up with Sam and Tucker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Phantom is so cool.” Sam said as she finished swallowing a bite of her food.

Danny spit out his drink and looked up at her. Dash sent him a look. “He is?”

“Yeah. I mean, some vigilante ghost kid fighting to protect us even though no one trusts him? I’d say that’s pretty cool.”

“Do you trust him?” Danny asked, looking between Sam and Tucker.

Tucker shrugged. “He hasn’t really given us a reason not to trust him.” He placed a hand on his chin and started thinking about it. “Except for maybe that time he ruined Valerie’s life. Or when he kidnapped the mayor. He also stole all that stuff one time. Or-”

Sam elbowed Tucker. “People have off days! I don’t think he did any of that stuff on purpose. Remember he broke out of that spell that Freakshow put him under? He saved me because he was able to break out of it.”

“Also it was the dog that ruined Valerie’s life.” Dash corrected. “Not Phantom himself.”

“Yeah!” Sam gestured at Dash. “All the ghosts seem to have it out for Phantom for some reason. How do we know it’s not just all orchestrated?”

“Is the property damage orchestrated?” Tucker asked her.

“Haha.” Sam took another bite of her food. “But I’m serious. He just… He’s just a kid. Doing this all by himself. It’s messed up.”

Tucker nodded. “He seems so familiar too. It makes me wonder if we knew him before he died.”

Dash watched as Danny looked between the two of them, stunned. He opened his mouth.

“Guys, I have something to tell-”

Danny was interrupted by something crashing outside. It sent the windows shattering and screams erupted around the cafeteria as everyone ducked down to cover their heads and faces.

“What happened?” Sam looked out the windows, her breathing quick. A screech echoed around the schoolyard.

Danny gasped out his ghost sense and Dash followed his gaze to where it stood.

“There’s a ghost.” Dash pointed to it.

It was digging around in the dirt like it was looking for something. Dash couldn’t tell what animal it was supposed to be. It was boney and skeletal, its hips jutting out from its body.

Danny stood up and ran across the cafeteria, pushing open the door along the wall with the windows.

“Danny!” Sam and Tucker shouted as they stood up together.

They went to run after Danny but Dash grabbed Sam’s wrist before she could go anywhere.

“What are you doing?” She asked him hysterically. “We have to go get him! He can’t just be running around outside like that while there’s a ghost attacking!”

“Yeah, dude. Are you mental?” Tucker asked Dash.

“Danny-”

“Needs our help!” Sam tore her wrist out of Dash’s hand and they ran across the room to the door. Dash shifted in his place, jittery. He finally followed after them.

When he got outside they were already across the grass, but instead of looking for Danny they were looking up in the air at the fight.

“Foley! Manson! Get over here!” Dash shouted at them from the building. “You’re not even looking for Danny! You need to-”

The screech of tires signaled the Fenton’s arrival. They jumped out of their van and brandished their weapons.

“You take that side, Jack! I’ll stay here!”

“Aye, aye!” Jack ran away from her to the other side of the schoolyard.

“Sam, Tucker! Get-”

The ghost looked up at Dash’s voice but its gaze landed on Sam and Tucker first. It hissed at them, the sound grating. It started charging at them and they both took a step back but it was moving too fast.

“No!” Danny shouted, flying towards them.

He got to them just in time to grab them both and knock them out of the way. They tumbled across the ground and Dash could hear Sam and Tucker screaming from where he stood. Danny pulled himself back up and stood between them and the ghost. His fists clenched.

“You’re not getting through me, ghost!”

Danny jumped back into the fight and it took only a couple more hits fueled by his rage before the fight was over and he caught it in his thermos.

He turned to look at Sam and Tucker and he flew forward a couple steps before he was being shot square in the back. He hissed and looked behind him to see his mom still aiming her weapon at him.

“Wait!” Sam ran forward and put herself between Danny and Mrs. Fenton.

“Sam!” Maddie shouted at her. “Get out of the way! We need to capture him!”

“No, he just-”

“Jack, do you have a shot?” Maddie called, looking in his direction.

“No! The kids are in the way!”

Maddie snarled. Dash watched Danny recoil. “If you don’t move-”

Danny started flying away. Maddie aimed her gun at him again but he turned invisible before she could take another shot. She shouted into the empty air and threw her gun down. She glared at Sam and Tucker.

Maddie walked up to them. “Are you aiding the ghost kid?”

They looked between each other, shock on their faces. “No.” Sam said. “The ghost was going to attack us. Phantom was just trying-”

“To win you over.” Maddie hissed out. “He’s nothing but a manipulator and an evil ghost. He doesn’t really care about whether or not you get hurt. He’s just doing it to fulfill his own needs.”

Sam took a step back at Maddie’s words. Tucker grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Dash could tell that her words upset them. Unsettled them. He’d never seen Mrs. Fenton talk to someone like that before. Let alone Danny’s friends.

Danny walked up behind him, his arm brushing against Dash’s.

“We can’t tell them.”

Dash looked at Danny sharply. “What? I thought you were going to-”

He shook his head. “It would be nice for them to know, but would it just put them in danger? All I did was push them out of the way of that attack and my mom’s accusing them of aiding and abetting me.”

Dash looked back up at where Maddie was stomping away from Sam and Tucker. Their shocked expressions turned to look at Danny and Dash.

“What would she do if they knew and they were really helping me?” Danny whispered.

Dash shook his head. “I.. I don’t know.”

Danny turned his head to look up at Dash. “We can’t tell them.”

“Okay. We won’t tell them.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Get back here, ghost scum!”

Dash ran behind Danny’s parents as they chased him through the air. Of all the things to be giving them the most grief these days, it was Danny’s parents.

Let’s tear him apart molecule by molecule.

We have to have some remains to examine.

I wonder what his insides look like.

Let’s tear him up and find out.

They were relentlessly hunting Danny every time another ghost attacked. They didn’t even bother with the other ghosts anymore either. They only had their sights set on Phantom. That was all they cared about.

He heard Maddie’s weapon go off again and Dash turned down an alley. He had to somehow get to their rendezvous point before them so that Danny could transform and they could get his parents off his trail.

As he came out of the alley, he saw that Danny had turned around in the air. Dash waved up at him and when Danny caught sight of him Dash ran into the next alley. Dash had his back pressed up against the wall and hid on the other side of some garbage cans when Danny flew into the alley and came to stand next to Dash.

Dash pulled Danny behind him and turned so he was blocking him from being seen from the entrance.

“How close were they?” He whispered.

“Too close.” Danny breathed out heavily, calling on his transformation rings. “They-”

His parents ran around the corner of the alley right as Danny’s transformation finished passing. He had a panicked look on his face. Reaching up, he grabbed Dash’s cheeks and pulled his face down.

Dash’s eyes widened.

“Freeze, ghost scum!”

Understanding dawned on Dash and he wrapped an arm around Danny’s waist and deepened the kiss. Danny carded a few fingers through his hair and then jumped and pulled away, faking surprise as he looked over Dash’s shoulder.

“Danny?” His mom called over in surprise. “Is that Dash?”

Dash tried to turn around sheepishly. “H-hey, Mrs. Fenton.” His voice shook and he hoped she couldn’t pick up on the fear that laced through it.

Jack sniffled. “Maddie, our little boy is turning into a man. I think it’s time we gave him the talk.”

“No!” Danny lifted both hands from Dash and waved them vigorously over Dash’s shoulders. “No talk! I do not want to suffer through that.”

“I didn’t know you two were-” Maddie scratched her chin. “When did you two start dating?”

They looked at each other.

“Today-”

“The beginning of September-”

Danny frowned at Dash and he chuckled.

“Haha, yeah, the beginning of September.”

Danny facepalmed. Maddie’s eyes opened wide.

“You’ve been dating that long already? Why didn’t the two of you say anything?” She gasped and held a hand up to her mouth. “Did you not feel safe talking to us about it? I’m so sorry, if we ever did anything to make you feel unsafe-”

“No, mom. It’s- it’s not that.” Danny stammered. “I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”

Dash looked between Danny and his parents. And the weapons that they were still holding in their hands. Maddie smiled at them.

“That’s okay. We’ll be here when you’re ready.” She lifted her gun to brandish it in both hands again. “Did you two see where that ghost went off to? We were hot on his trail just a minute ago.”

Danny shook his head. “No, sorry. We were, uh, busy.”

“Drat.” Jack snapped his fingers. “He got away again.”

“It’s okay, Jack. We’ll get him one of these days.” Maddie placed a hand on his arm. She turned her head to look back at Danny. “Be sure to be home for dinner. Bring Dash with you if he would like to join us.”

They walked back out of the alley. Danny leaned his head forward and rested it on Dash’s chest, letting out a deep breath.

“That was too close.”

They sat there like that for a little bit. Dash’s hand was still on Danny’s waist. He started rubbing small circles there with his thumb. Danny took another deep breath and pulled away. Dash wilted at the loss of contact.

“Let’s get back to the house.” Danny said quietly. “Unless you want to go home?”

Dash shook his head. “I’ll come back with you. Stay for dinner.”

Danny nodded, relieved. Dash reached a hand up and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

“Let’s go home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, Pariah.”

“Yup.”

Danny was slumped in his seat at the kitchen table. His head hung over the back of it and he just stared up at the ceiling.

“Almost died.”

“Yeah.”

Dash played with his pencil that was sitting on the table next to his homework. “At least the ghosts seem to have more respect for you now. You put their terrifying king back into his coffin again.”

Danny nodded.

Dash frowned at him. “Are you okay, Danny?”

Danny looked at him. “Yeah. I just- It’s a lot to process. Like, why did Vlad give Valerie her weapons? Why is he looking for all these artifacts? What is he planning? Why save me? He could’ve just left me there and I wouldn’t be in his hair anymore. He’d be able to kill my dad all he wanted.”

He looked back up at the ceiling. “What does me defeating the king of the ghost zone really mean?”

Dash opened his mouth to respond but realized he didn’t have any input for that. He closed it again and reached a hand over to Danny but jumped, pulling it away when the basement door opened.

“Hey, boys! How are you?” Maddie asked as she came up the stairs from the lab.

“We’re good, Mom. How’s the work going?” Danny looked up at her.

“We’re making a lot of progress on our newest invention!” She walked over to the sink and grabbed a glass and started filling it with water. “We’ll surely get Phantom with this one! It neutralizes a ghost’s powers so it can no longer use them!”

Dash tensed up and he turned his head to look at Danny. Danny’s eyes were wide as he stared at his mom. “Yeah? Wow.”

Maddie nodded. “We’ve got to get him somehow. I think this one will give us a fighting chance. We’re looking to get a more humanoid ghost to examine for our studies and see what makes them different from blob ghosts.”

“What will you do when you get him?” Dash asked with a little shake to his voice. Maddie smiled at him.

“We’re going to cut him open and see if there’s anything to examine inside him. We’re really curious about his core. A blob ghost’s core isn’t strong enough to sustain itself if it’s even slightly damaged, but Phantom’s would no doubt be much stronger. We could head down to the lab and take a look at-”

Dash suddenly stood up from the table, his heart racing at the mention of the lab.

“I have to get going. Curfew, you know?” Dash pointed over his shoulder and then tapped his wrist.

“It’s like five pm.” Danny deadpanned.

Maddie frowned. “That’s too bad. Don’t be afraid to come over more often. We don’t bite. We could even give you a tour of the lab!”

“Haha, that’s okay. I’ve been warned about all the hazards and wastes that are down there. I’m good hearing about it from up here.”

Maddie shrugged. “Suit yourself. But the offer still stands if you ever want to take us up on it one day.” She grabbed her glass of water and walked to the lab door. “Back to it!”

She pulled the door closed behind her and after a minute Danny’s gaze shifted to Dash.

“Curfew?”

“I don’t know!” Dash groaned and covered his face. “It was the first thing I thought of.”

“Knowing your dad, my mom probably believed that he would move up your curfew to some insane time.”

Dash shook his head and closed his eyes. He just… Couldn’t go down there. Even the thought of it brought Danny’s screams back into his mind.

He felt a hand on his arm and opened his eyes. Danny was looking at him.

“You don’t have to go in the lab if you don’t want to. Ever. Even if they’re begging on their hands and knees.”

Dash smiled and patted Danny’s hand. “Thanks. I do think I’m going to head out for the night though. Call me if any ghost stuff happens?”

Danny nodded and stood up to walk Dash to the door. “You know I always do.”

He waved at Danny over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dash hadn’t heard from Danny for two days. Before, that wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary. But ever since the accident with the portal Dash usually got at least one update from Danny on the whole ghost thing a day.

He was on his way to Fentonworks now. He just… had a bad feeling. He couldn’t describe it. He knew that if he went to check on Danny and didn’t find him, that he could panic a little more reasonably.

He walked up the steps to the Fenton’s front door. He went to knock, but when his fist made contact the first time the door opened slightly. Dash frowned.

Why would they just leave the front door open like that? Were they even home?

Dash pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked inside.

“Danny?” He called into the house. No one responded.

He pushed the door closed behind him and headed towards the stairs. Hopefully Danny would just be sick in his room. He really hoped that was where he’d be.

It was eerily quiet as he walked up the stairs. Fentonworks was always full of life and people any time Dash had been there before. It unnerved him how calm it was.

Dash made his way to Danny’s door. He paused outside it for a moment before he raised his fist to knock.

He waited a second, two, three, but there was no response.

“Danny? I’m coming in.”

He opened the door and swung it open. His heart dropped when he saw that the room was empty. Danny wasn’t here.

He turned back around without closing the door. He walked down the hallway to Jazz’s room and banged on the door, more panicked now.

Jazz must not have been home either because he waited and didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. He turned around and headed back towards the stairs, pulling his phone out.

He didn’t think he had a choice. He had to tell Sam and Tucker. Maybe they knew something. Maybe Danny told them where he was. He’d start with that, if they’ve heard from Danny at all the past couple days. Then if he had to he’d tell them about Danny being a half ghost. Maybe they would be able to help.

He heard a noise.

Dash’s head whipped towards the kitchen. He slowly walked into the room and turned his head.

Dash saw the open door to the lab. There was a light flickering down there and dread crawled up his throat.

He never wanted to step foot in that lab again.

Dash gulped.

He had to do this. He could go down there again. He had to see if Danny was down there. He had to find him.

Dash walked through the kitchen and into the open doorway. He tiptoed his way down the stairs slowly. He could still turn around. He didn’t have to see what was happening down here.

Dash took a deep breath and took the last step into the lab.

Danny was there, surrounded by his parents. His insides exposed for Maddie to root around in. Dash felt nausea well up inside him.

“What have you done?!”

Jack and Maddie didn’t pay any mind to Dash’s outburst, but he could see Danny stir.

Danny locked eyes with Dash just as his parents touched the glowing orb that sat in his chest with a scalpel.

An explosion erupted from it and Dash covered his face. It sent cracks up the walls and across the floor and the building was trembling. Everything was creaking and debris was raining down from the ceiling.

Danny still lay on the table but his parents were on the floor. He couldn’t tell if they were still breathing or not, but right now he didn’t care.

He ran across the lab to where Danny lay on their dissection table. Danny’s insides were all laid bare to the air. How was Dash supposed to get him somewhere safe?

The house creaked above him and Dash decided that there was no choice. He’d just have to pick him up like this.

Dash scooped Danny up into his arms. He was limp, but he was miraculously still breathing. He turned towards the stairs as the building gave another creak and they caved in. Panic spiked in Dash’s chest. What was he supposed to do? His only way out was blocked. How-

The green glow of the swirling portal caught his eye. He turned his head to look at it. He had no other choice. That was his only way out.

Dash turned his body and started running towards the portal as the rest of the ceiling started collapsing.

He clutched Danny to his chest and dove into the ghost portal.

#gorgi writes #phic phight 2024 #danny phantom #dash baxter #danny fenton #swagger bishie #angst #dissection #scalpels #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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pawfulofwaffles · 5 months

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Mmmm moth

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home puppet arg #wally darling #Ok ok ok #so before you go #“Oh Vee why didn’t you make him a moth with eye patterns-“#First of all if you squint the spots could be eyes #Second of all vibrant yellow and blue are you kidding me I couldn’t lose this opportunity #Third of all I’m not really as in to the whole eye symbolism or whatever as others in the fandom may be #So ye #moth #bracca rotundata #my art #pawfulofdoodles

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2hightocare · 2 months

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ACQUAINTANCES!

Synopsis: Jungkook and you can only stand each other whenever you guys are fucking, well that’s what you guys thought initially.

Parings: fuckboy!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Genre: college au! fwb! e2l!

Warnings: smut!! Open ending, no confession. Rough sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it) Smut with just a tiny bit of plot if you squint, reader is a squirter (sorry not sorry) daddy/mommy kink, cussing, blowjob, reader crying from pleasure, jk is a dirty talker, banter, a lot of bickering from both of them, cute fluff at the end for Valentine’s Day!

a/n: hai my loves, i disappeared for a while.. I’ve been really busy with school at the moment. But I wrote this short pwp for all of you as a valentines gift before I lag again.. I’m trying to write an actual f1 driver!jk fic right now so sorry if I’m not updating as much…. But anywho enjoy my little gift<3⭐️

“That’s my good girl, fuck." He plunges deeper into you, hitting your spot repeatedly. His hand lays on your head, pushing you down into the mattress, your makeup smudged from sucking his cock, and tears stream down your face.

“Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook pounds into you from behind; your legs are shaking, trying so hard not to give out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock spreads your walls deliciously. “Agh fuck.” You moan loudly, your mouth hanging open, drool spilling out onto the white sheets.

You reach behind you, pushing him off you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your legs shake. Your breaths are heavy, and you are trying so hard to catch your breath. “Take it off.” You whine about the condom; you reach for Jungkook's cock and pull on the clear condom, taking it off.

“Want me to fuck you, raw princess?” Jungkook groans, grabbing the base of his cock, giving your pussy a few slaps with his length, making you clench over nothing. Jungkook uses one of his arms to pick you up and turn you around, your back pressed against the comfortable mattress. “Feels good, huh?” He asks as he slowly rubs your swollen, aching clit with his thumb. Jungkook watches your expression, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes cloudy, trying so hard to keep them open, his hand reaching to your tear-stained cheeks, squeezing them, making your mouth form a kiss.

“What do you say?” Jungkook asks as you slowly nod your head. You were fucked dumb, and he knew that, which made him chuckle softly. He could tell from how you couldn’t even answer the question or even fight him for it like you usually do.

“Speak up; use your words, baby.” Jungkook smirks, giving your cheeks a light slap before squeezing them again. “Feels so good.” You slur, and you squeeze your legs together to relieve some of the tension your center is feeling. You have come four times now, and Jungkook none.

“Good girl.” Jungkook says before helping you sit up as he leans against the header, his hard laying on his stomach. Jungkook is packed, to say the least; even when he’s soft, you can see his imprint in his underwear.

It scared you at first when he pulled it out because, how the fuck was that going to fit in you? You swear you almost got up and left.

“That’s not going to fit.” You say, your pointer finger pointing at his thick length in his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jungkook chuckles, and you give him a glare back instead, showing that you are serious. “It’s going to fit; we’ll make it fit, baby.” He grins. "Plus, you can take four fingers; you’ll be fine.” He comes closer to you and says, "It’ll feel so good, I promise.” He whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your back.

You crawl your way to him, stopping between his legs; his eyes bore into yours. “You’re so pretty.” He compliments you, swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Fuck off, you just want your dick sucked.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the base of his cock. Your small hand, not even being able to wrap around his cock, always sent Jungkook a sense of pride to his chest.

“Gon’ suck daddy’s cock?” Jungkook moves your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “If you call yourself daddy one more time, I will bite your dick; don’t try me.” You glare up at him. "Well, isn’t she back? Not even five minutes ago, you were calling me daddy.” Jungkook chuckles at your expression. You looked hot with his cock inches away from your face, slightly twitching, waiting to be sucked.

You and Jungkook had history; to say the least, you both kind of hated each other. If it wasn’t because he said something you didn’t like, it was because he breathed a little too loudly around you.

Just something about his smug face looking at you and throwing snarky comments had you wanting to claw your acrylics into his skin. Which was something Jungkook loved; he loved watching you roll your eyes every time you saw him, and he absolutely loved it when you fought back with him.

You had no clue how you ended up throwing insults at him every five seconds whenever he would show up anywhere; you would say it was because he was a man whore. You heard from every girl on campus how good he fucked but left right after coming, or if they were lucky, he left before they woke up. But honestly, that really doesn’t matter now that you’re in his bed getting your guts rearranged almost every seven days of the week by him.

Jungkook doesn't hate you; he just loves challenging you. Plus, he thought the only way he could find himself talking and being closer to you meant arguing; he would take it. You are well known on campus as well; his friends warned him about you, but you were just his type. So who was he to throw out the possibility of having you in his bed?

You didn’t even know how you ended up becoming friends with benefits—something along the lines of a frat party, an angry make-out session, and sex in someone’s bed. Jungkook fucked you so good; you are hundred percent sure you passed out and saw stars.

What were strictly professional meetings? how you like to call them? Turned into sleepovers, hanging out, cuddling, and calling each other cute nicknames. You guys still fought; it was more like bickering now. What you both weren’t looking for was a catching feeling; it started as having sex whenever one of you was horny, but now you find yourself wanting to be with each other regardless if you guys’ had sex or not.

“Now I don’t want to suck your dick after you called yourself daddy; that’s such an ick.” You scrunch your nose, giving his cock a tug, making him bite his lip with a laugh.

“That’s an ick? Ick when you told me to call you mommy like a month ago.” Jungkook recalls making your eyes widen. “Stop, I was drunk.” You whine, rolling your eyes. “We both said we wouldn’t bring it up, plus I said it as in sugar mommy.” You try to explain yourself as Jungkook smiles down at you.

“Sugar mommy? I pay for everything, so just shut up." Jungkook chuckles, grabbing ahold of his cock, giving it a pump.

You only follow his movements with your eyes as your pussy oozes with your juices, your wetness dripping down your thighs. Jungkook presses his cock to your cheek before slapping it multiple times. “My favorite view—imagine this, but on my lock screen." Jungkook jokes, which makes you glare at him. “In your dreams.” You say.

“It’s definitely in my dreams,” he groans. Jungkook moves his dick to your lips before patting his length on them. “Open.” He orders, which you immediately do, taking his tip into your mouth.

"Agh,” he chokes in a moan as you suck on the swollen tip. You replace his hands with yours pumping in his shaft while you try to take as much as you can down your throat. “Fuck.” Jungkook throws his head back, and you bob your head up and down his cock.

“So big.” You breathe out before returning to bob your head at a fast pace. Drool accumulates in your cheeks, dripping down Jungkook's cock. “Don’t boost my ego more, baby.” Jungkook howls; his tattooed hand gets a hold of your head before pushing it down. You gag on his cock, but Jungkook doesn’t care as he continues to fuck into your mouth. “Aw shit, shit shit.” Jungkook moans with each thrust into your warm mouth.

Tears run down your cheeks as Jungkook uses your mouth. Your hands rest on his hip bones, tapping slightly whenever you need to breathe. “Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook mumbles, his cock twitching in your mouth, meaning he’s close. Before he could come, he pulled your head off of him with a loud pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connect your mouth and his cock.

“Fuck!” Jungkook pumps his cock hurriedly, his eyes shut as strings of curse words leave his mouth. “Where do I come? Shit.” Jungkook moans, his abs flexing as his hips lift up with each thrust into his hand. “Tits.” You wipe your mouth, positioning yourself in front of him before he shoots strings of his sticky cum on your round boobs. “Ahh fuck.” Jungkook chokes on another moan, giving his cock one last pump.

His chest heaves as he tries so hard to catch his breath, peeking an eye open and seeing you on your knees with your tits adorned with his cum. You giggle at his state. “I think you just boosted my ego by putting ‘expert at giving head' in my resume.” You joke as his chest rumbles with laughter.

“The head game is strong. Who taught you that?” Jungkook asks, and an inch of jealousy pikes his chest as he thinks about you ever giving a blowjob to someone else that wasn’t him. “Myself, you can do so much with a dildo.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, running your hands down his chest. His cock twitches as he watches you lay back down on the bed, your legs spread open as an invitation.

“Have I told you how good of an idea it was to get this mattress? Yeah, this one is a lot nicer,” Jungkook says as he starts to hover over your much smaller frame. “Whenever we fuck, it doesn’t leave me with back pain,” he moans when he easily slides his cock in you from how wet you are, a sharp moan that leaves your throat.

“It's al- also comfy.” You moan between deep breaths as his cock hits your g-spot. “Yeah, yeah, whatever it’s comfortable to sleep on,” he chuckles as his eyes flutter shut when you clench around him, sending him deeper into you.

“Shit! tightest pussy ever.” His grip tightens on your thighs, which are pushed up by him. “Do you see how pretty your pussy looks being filled with my cock?” He motions to his length, buried deep inside you. The noticeable bulge on your tummy has him wanting to ram inside you without restraint.

He watches as you just hum with your eyes closed, “I said look.” Jungkook's hand gets a hold of your hair, pulling you upward, making you see his cock in you.

“I’m going to get a cramp because of you.” You moan as you watch his cock slowly slide out, making the bulge disappear before reappearing again when he slammed back, making your eyes shut with a scream. “You’ll be fine,” he laughs before slamming into you. The grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as your eyes vision is just his cock sliding in and out of your pussy over and over again.

“Open your eyes; come on, baby.” He gives your hair a little tug, making your eyes shoot open with your mouth wide open. “Fuck! Prettiest view, huh?” Jungkook's hips slam into you repeatedly.

“Ah, cramp,” you moan as he lets go of your hair, making you drop onto the mattress with a shake. His movements didn’t halt as he continued to fuck into you.

Jungkook holds onto your legs before powering into you. Your hands grip onto the sheets as the moans flow out of your mouth uncontrollably. Jungkook spreads your legs open before pressing his palm on your lower belly on his bulge, sending a sense of shock through your body. Jungkook feels your pussy tighten, which only meant one thing, “I’m going to squirt, oh fuck.” You rush out, trying so hard to push him off.

Jungkook found out you were squirted when he fucked you in the bathroom at a Christmas party. Your red skirt lifted up to your ass, and your Santa Claus hat held on for dear life with each thrust he slammed into you. You didn’t expect to leave the bathroom with a drenched shirt; you only laughed at his reaction.

Jungkook pulls out immediately, inserting three of his fingers in you before pounding them in and out of you. Your body spasms with each curl of his fingers inside you, sending spurts of liquid out of you with a scream. Your eye vision went blurry, and as your head went lightheaded from the immense pleasure you were feeling, your hands gripped so tightly on the sheets that they went white.

“Are you breathing?” Jungkook chuckles at your spent body on his bed. He gives your pussy a small slap before kissing your cheek. "Mhm,” you pout, closing your legs, which has him laughing before he stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” You peek an eye open, watching him put on his boxers, his dick still hard from your guys previous activities. “I'm getting you a towel and clothes, princess.” Jungkook enters his bathroom, picking up a clean towel before making his way beside you.

“Let me clean you; spread." Jungkook taps on your thigh. You cover your face as he cleans you up. Small moans leave your mouth from the oversensitivity. You felt comfortable letting Jungkook do these things for you; even though they were super intimate, it didn’t feel wrong when Jungkook did it.

“All clean, let me help you put this on.” He motions to your pink panties you left a week ago in his house. Just thinking of Jungkook washing your underwear made your chest ache. "Up,” he says to your arms as he puts his black shirt over you.

“You didn’t come,” you say, looking at his erection. "It doesn’t matter; it’ll go away. Are you craving anything so I can DoorDash?” Jungkook skips over your question. “Wings..?” You pout as Jungkook picks you up and places you on the chair in his room as he changes the wet sheets for a new set.

“Order some; my phone is over there.” He points to his phone on the nightstand. Your heart skipped a beat. Not ever did one of your exes ever let you touch their phones, so for Jungkook to tell you to get his phone like nothing made your heart speed up, even if you both didn’t establish the boyfriend and girlfriend label.

Let’s just say you ended your night with wings in bed and a cute man cuddling with you all night until the morning.

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perlelune · 3 months

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NDA | Coriolanus Snow

When you get hired as a nanny for President Snow and his wife's firstborn, you’re beyond thrilled and grateful. But quickly, the perfect facade melts, revealing the ugly truth of what actually goes on in the Snows' house.

Warnings: NON-CON, Capitol! Reader, Innocent Reader, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Power Imbalance

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Your worried eyes track the frenzied glide of the woman’s quill over the notepad. You squint, hoping to discern some of the words she’s scrawling that way, but they are indiscernible…just like the stone-cold expression of the bespectacled woman on the other side of the desk.

She catches you trying to peek. Your heart jumps.

As her sharp green gaze zeroes in on you, you clear your throat and shift in your seat.

She puts her quill down and twines her fingers.

“So what do you think sets you apart from the other applicants?”

You chew on your lip. When you arrived to offer your candidature this morning, you naively believed you’d be early. Instead, you were forced to join the tail end of the massive waiting line stretching far outside the Snows’ estate. It didn’t hit you before that moment, how prized the position is. Each of the women and girls you saw radiated excellent breeding and impeccable manners. Many probably attended the University and could double as a tutor if the need presents itself.

This isn’t your case. Your parents left you and your brother Laertes with nothing when they suddenly passed away in a rebel bombing. You couldn’t blame them. This wasn't the plan. Who plans on dying and leaving their two children to fend for themselves?

Still, you now have a list of bills the length of your arm coupled with a massive mortgage to pay every month. And as Laertes’ sole caretaker, you must ensure you can afford to send him to University once he completes his education in the Academy.

Circumstances denied you that chance. Despite being of university’s age, you couldn’t afford the cost of tuition and had to drop out as soon as you got accepted. You want better for your little brother.

So as soon as you heard the news that President Snow and First Lady Livia Cardew were in search of a nanny for their son Martius, you jumped on the opportunity to apply. You rose before the sun, rummaged through your mother’s closet to find her best dress, and hailed a car to come here.

It’s a long shot, of course. You’re not as polished and impressive as some of the other women. You’re also noticeably younger. But the wages promised alone compelled you to take a chance despite the odds being unfavorable.

Fiddling with your hands, you meet the woman’s impassive stare head-on.

“What sets me apart?” You mull over your answer. You could paint a false, august portrait of yourself, your skills and your accomplishments. Or try to at least.

But what would be the point of pretending to be someone you’re not only to be found out later on? So you elect to tread the path of honesty.

“Nothing,” you say. “But I’m a hard worker. A very hard worker. In fact, I already have three jobs, one at a bakery, another as a clerk in an antique shop and I assist Fabricia Whatnot at her boutique sometimes.” Panic quivers inside you as the woman quickly jots something down on her notepad. You swiftly specify, “...But I’ll quit all of them if I get the position, of course.” You lick your lips as knots tie your stomach. “I can learn everything there is to learn on the spot. I love children, and…” You trail off, gaze traveling to your lap as you muse if you should reveal more. Your fists clench as you add, “I have a little brother who’s a few years older than Martius, and I’m really hoping I get this opportunity so I can give him the life he deserves.”

An unnerving quiet occupies the air. The wait is agony, your nails digging painfully into your palms. The jagged drumming of your heart bleeds inside your ears as she studies you.

Eventually, she leans back in the velvet chair, her face betraying no thought or emotion.

“You’re dismissed,” she says.

Your heart plummets to your feet. You shakily rise, dispirited as you drag your heels towards the door. You steal a glance above your shoulder. The woman’s attention has already drifted away from you as she shouts for the next applicant.

You sourly exit the office. You try to swallow your dejection as you note how many women are still waiting in line, each of them likely more qualified and experienced. It’s obvious you tanked the interview. Shoulders slumping, you take resigned steps through the elegant, palatial hallways of the Snow’s mansion. You get lost in admiring the crystal and gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. There isn’t an inch of the house that doesn’t scream excessive, unattainable wealth.

You take your time soaking it in. Chances are you’ll never step foot in such a place in your lifetime ever again.

Distracted, you don’t notice the person in front of you before it’s too late. You bump straight into a hard, inflexible body.

The sudden collision threatens your balance.

Fingers coil around your wrists as you stagger back, preventing your impending collapse onto the marbled floor.

As your attention drifts skywards, your jaw drops at who fills your vision.

“P-President Snow, my deepest apologies, s-sir,” you stammer, flames licking your cheeks.

As if you didn’t make yourself look dimwitted enough before, you now carelessly crashed into the leader of all of Panem. Just when you thought the day couldn’t possibly get worse.

You take him in. It truly is him. Shock fills you.

Tall and dazzling in a crisp white shirt and crimson vest that hints at his lean physique beneath the clothes, his signature blond waves slicked away from his face, he looks every bit the important figure that he is.

The flickering TV screen you own at home doesn’t do him justice.

A gentle smirk unfurls on his lips.

“It’s quite alright. I’m not made of sugar,” he jests.

“No…you’re not, your highness…majesty...I mean sir.”

Your blunder expands his smile. His cerulean gaze drags over your frame.

“Are you here for the nursemaid position?”

“I am, sir.” You unleash a deep exhale, his inquiry tossing salt on the fresh wound. The interviewer clearly wasn’t impressed by your less than stellar performance. Maybe you should have tried to mimic the way the girls with whom you attended the Academy behave more. They carry themselves with such confidence, wading through the world with the certainty of their destinies being secure, bereft of hardships unlike district dwellers.

You envy how carefree they get to be. Everyday you wake up worried you’ll come up short on a bill and you and Laertes will be forced to leave your family home. No matter how diligent you are at work, there never seems to be enough money to sustain the two of you. Even with three jobs, you’re barely eking out a decent living for you and your little brother. Many times, you’ve gone to bed hungry just so Laertes would not.

You don’t even realize tears have filled your eyes to the brim until a handkerchief is daintily pressed into your cheeks.

Flabbergasted, you blink up at President Snow.

“Thank you,” you exhale, stunned by his kind gesture.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

You search his eyes. Genuine interest lights up his pellucid blue orbs.

Without much thought, you confess, “I just don’t think I did very well with my interview.”

As he scrutinizes you in silence, cocking his head sideways, embarrassment rushes through you.

Words anxiously leave your lips in a tremulous string.

“God, I’m so sorry, spilling my problems to you as if you’re not an extremely busy man, sir.”

He shakes his head. “It’s quite alright. And do not count yourself defeated, sweetheart.” Your pulse stutters when he bends over you to whisper, “You may have left a stronger impression than you think.”

He nudges the pocket square between your hands. It’s still damp with your tears. You gape at it in awe. President Snow’s initials are elegantly etched in the left corner of the fabric.

“Here. Keep it. Though I’d much prefer it if you didn’t cry.” He pauses, studying you. “Girls as lovely as you never should.”

His words send your heart into a frenzy. For a while, you’re too stunned to move. You then shake yourself back to reality, noticing you’re now staring at the empty space where he used to stand. He’s gone. You look ahead. He’s already miles away from you, wrapped in conversation with who seems to be an assistant of his.

Your thumbs press against the soft fabric of the pocket square. Cheeks ablaze, you hold it to your nose. It smells like roses, the same delicate scent that wafted from him a few minutes ago. Your back prickles. You pivot and are astonished to find the envious glares of some of the applicants still waiting in line zeroed in on you. Self-conscious, you rush to continue your exit, fleeing away from the hateful stares.

As the outside gates come into sight, you can’t suppress an elated smile. It’s not everyday someone meets President Snow and receives such a gift from him. Shoving the handkerchief in your pocket, you vow to place it somewhere safe and always cherish it.

When you return home, your brother’s already sitting in the living room, his tiny brows scrunched in concentration and his nose buried in his books. Your stomach sinks. Everything you did today was for him. You can’t help but feel you missed out on a huge opportunity, one that’d have changed the course of his life forever. You glance around at the apartment. The walls are crumbling. The wooden floors are creaking. The pipes in the kitchen have been leaking for weeks, a measly bucket you must empty every morning the only thing preventing a flood. And at night, the pitter-patter of rodents’ paws resonates from the ceiling.

Every inch of your family home is in dire need of repairs.

Unfortunately, every penny you earn goes into rent and food, meaning the house falls apart a bit more everyday. Perhaps one day, you and Laertes will awake beneath the rubble of what’s left of your childhood home. Nightmares of that sometimes keep you up at night.

“How was the Academy today?” you chime, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. Worry twists your chest. There isn’t much left. You’ll need to make do with cabbage and whatever other veggies are left. Perhaps you could toss in some leftover dried meat and make a stew.

“My teacher signed me up for advanced trigonometry,” your brother announces.

You close the cabinet and beam at him.

“Oh, that sounds hard. I’m proud of you.” It doesn’t exactly surprise you. Laertes’ always been exceptionally smart. Even his teachers noticed how gifted he is from an early age. Unlike you, he breezed through middle school and now the Academy.

It’s why it’s crucial you make sure he can go to the University. A mind like his shouldn’t be wasted.

You brother shrugs, exuding nonchalance.

“It’s fine.”

You rush to him. You wrap your arm around him playfully and hug him in his chair, pulling his cheek like when he was little. You know he hates when you do that but you can’t help teasing him a bit. It’s your duty as a big sister after all.

“Don’t downplay it. My little brother’s a genius.”

He wriggles his way out of the hug, rolling his eyes.

“Stop it.”

You head back to the kitchen and fire the stove.

“I’ll make you something,” you say, smiling at your brother.

His brows knit. “Make something for yourself first.”

You nibble your bottom lip. You truly hoped he wouldn’t notice, how much smaller than his your portions are. But he’s growing; he needs it. Much more than you. Besides, how can he focus at the Academy and be the brilliant boy he is supposed to be with a growling stomach? You won’t allow it.

“Laertes…”

He shakes his head, his expression firm.

“No. You always do this. This time, we split whatever is left.”

Heaving out a resigned exhale, you nod. You whirl to resume preparing dinner.

You gather a boiling pot from the overhead cabinet and place it on the stove. With the ease of practice, you begin chopping vegetables and tossing them into the pot. You add spices and water. The mouthwatering aroma quickly fills the kitchen. Pride swells in your chest. Your cooking skills have improved so much in the last year since your parents passed. You now manage to bring flavor to the blandest of meals.

Once the stew’s ready, you pour a portion in each bowl, putting just a little more in your brother’s and praying he will not notice.

You place the steaming bowls on the table and take a seat opposite him.

“No books at the dining table,” you admonish, mimicking the exact tone your mother used with your brother. Admitting defeat, Laertes sighs and sets his homework aside. The tiny victory tugs your lips skyward.

He tells you about his day at the Academy while the two of you eat. You’re delighted to hear he’s making a lot of friends and he’s at the top of his class for most science subjects. He’s struggling a bit more with his poetry and ethics classes, but you encourage him by reminding him he can just ask the teacher for extra assignments to keep his grade up.

“I interviewed for a new job today,” you reveal, stirring the spoon in your bowl while waiting for your brother to eat more of his food.

“How did it go?”

“Well, it pays really well so I’m hopeful.”

The hope dancing in his eyes makes your chest ache. You don’t have the heart to tell him you made a fool of yourself today. You may not be gifted like your brother, but you want him to know he can rely on you at least.

Pursing his mouth, he looks down at his stew.

“That’s great. It’d be good if you didn’t have to work as much.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t worry. I have everything under control.”

“Okay.”

His dour tone stirs your concern. You wish you were better at hiding things from him, making his childhood as normal as possible. But your brother’s twelve now, and that’s old enough to sense when things are wrong.

He rises from his seat. You frown as you note there’s still food left in his bowl.

“Finish your plate before going to your room.”

Annoyance pinches his features but he still picks up his bowl and hastily guzzles down the remainder of his stew.

“Happy now?” he says, wiping his mouth.

“Yes. Very,” you cheerfully respond.

He gathers his books and strides towards his room.

Your voice rises.

“Don’t stay up too late to study, okay? I love you.”

“I…love you too,” he mumbles.

You bask in the moment as you clean the table. Thankfully Laertes is still at an age where he says it back. One day he might not. So you must cherish every instant. Every conversation, every hug, every ‘I love you’. Because it could all vanish in a second. You learned that the hard way a year ago.

The day of the interview recedes to the back of your mind as you keep living your life. Work is harrowing, as usual, but you tend to your tasks as best as you can. Your arms ache as you knead the dough in the back of the bakery. You give yourself a second to wipe the sweat off your forehead. It’s been a hectic afternoon. There’s a massive pastry order for some Capitol heiress’ birthday due tomorrow. So you’ve been racing between the front desk and the kitchen in the back. A baker called in sick today, leaving you with twice the workload.

You know it won’t take much to crash into your bed and fall asleep tonight.

To make matters worse, the day hits its nadir when you get your pay that day. You peer inside the envelope for the umpteenth time. An anxious chuckle peals out of your lips.

“I’m sorry I don’t want to complain, but…this doesn’t match the hours I put in.”

The owner scratches the back of his neck, a contrite expression etched on his face.

“I’m sorry too. With the new taxes imposed by the Capitol, I had to cut your salary.”

Slack-jawed by the news, no word leaves your mouth as you stare at him. He sighs.

“If it’s a problem, we can find someone else-”

“No, no,” you interrupt, blinking in panic. “Please, I need this job.”

He acquiesces and you’re forced to thank him despite feeling cheated. You actually scaled back your hours for your other part-times since this one paid more. What a waste.

Dispirited, you return home. As you give the driver a bill for the fare, your insides wrench. Every bill counts. Perhaps you’ll need to walk back home from now on. The streets of the Capitol are notoriously dangerous but you can’t see any other way to save your dwindling wages. You already know you’ll need to request an extension for rent this month. How will you pay it, however?

You suppose you’ll have to figure it out. You always figure it out.

These are the somber thoughts swaying in your mind as you check the mailbox.

Bills. Bills. And more bills. Your already sour mood plummets even more. But a slim, silver envelope sticking out from the pile corrals your focus. Curiosity surges inside you. It looks fancy and there’s a wax seal with the Capitol’s symbol keeping it shut. You rush to open it, heart fluttering in strange anticipation.

You unfold the neatly folded letter inside. As you read the words, you gasp, dropping the letter. Still trembling from shock and excitement, you bend to pick it up.

You take a deep slow breath before reading it again.

This time, a squeal escapes from your lips.

You read it many more times to make sure your eyes aren’t just conjuring wild fantasies.

After a while, you realize they aren’t. It’s true.

Holding the letter to your chest, you toss yourself on your bed and kick your feet excitedly.

You then place your palm on your forehead. In disbelief, you beam at the ceiling.

Somehow…you’ve been hired to work for the Snows. You actually got the job.

Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.

You fidget before the iron gates, smoothing absent wrinkles on your skirt. It’s one of the best outfits you could find on short notice that wasn’t moth-eaten or visibly overworn. You pray it’s enough. You let your gaze wander. The Snows’ estate truly is majestic. The lush gardens. The beautiful architecture. You feel a little small as you admire the mansion.

Remembering yourself, you pivot to the man who drove you there. You fish inside your pocket for a bill and hand it to him. He stares at you blankly from the driver’s seat.

A weary sigh ripples behind you.

You turn, your eyes widening. It’s the woman who interviewed you that day. She wears the same stern expression.

“You don’t need to pay him,” she explains, dismissing the man with her hand. He nods and drives away. “He’s your assigned driver. He’ll pick you up each day and take you back home.”

“Oh.” You offer your hand. “Nice to meet you…again.”

She gives you a lengthy onceover, completely ignoring your gesture. Then she motions at you to follow her. You let your hand fall to your side. Heat blooms in your cheeks. Perhaps, you were too enthusiastic just then. Straightening your spine, you try your best to keep pace with her quick strides.

“I’m Pandora. I supervise most housekeeping duties for the president. I’ll show you around the estate. Then you’ll meet the young Master.”

She gives you a tour of the mansion. You’re even more amazed than last time though you try to suppress your awe and not stare excessively. She shows you the garden as well. The sea of snow-white roses makes your head spin. She specifies that the only part of the house that is off-limits is the west wing of the mansion, as these are the First Lady’s apartments and she must have rest and quiet.

She ends the visit by taking you to the nursery. A smile spontaneously finds its way onto your lips. A toddler plays with his toy train on the floor. With his blonde curls and bright blue eyes, he bears a striking resemblance to his father.

“That’s him? He’s so cute,” you whisper. Even the stern woman’s expression thaws a little as she looks at the child, softening ever-so-slightly. You send her a questioning glance. She gives you a nod of approval.

You approach the boy and crouch in front of him.

“Hi. You’re Martius, right?”

He lifts his head and beams at you. You’re immediately endeared. Again, his smile reminds you of President Snow. You suppose one could probably take over the world with a smile like that.

You turn to Pandora.

“Is his mother around? I should probably introduce myself.”

Her face pinches. “Mistress Livia has been unwell as of late. She is not to be disturbed today as she is quite tired.”

“Of course.” Your lips squeeze shut for a few seconds but curiosity gets the better of you. A question burns on your lips, one that nagged you ever since you got the job. It slips out before you can think it through. “Is this…Is this why the president and his wife require a nanny? The First Lady is sick?”

Pandora glowers at you. You flinch as she steps further inside the room, her searing tone like a whip.

“You are here to do your job, and nothing else. Mistress Livia’s health is no concern of yours. Do you hear me?”

You rise on shaky feet. You forgot yourself.

“I-I understand. I’m sorry I asked.”

“This reminds me. You have to sign this,” she says, handing you a pen and clipboard. A thin stack of papers are attached to the clipboard. The front page spells ‘Non-Disclosure Agreement’ in bold letters at the very top. You scowl as you flip through the pages.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a contract, one signed by every one of the President’s employees.”

“I don’t understand most of what’s written here…”

A frustrated exhale peals from her lips.

“I’ll make it simple for you then. For the duration of your employment here, nothing you see or hear must ever leave this house. You are here to care for the young master, that is all. Nothing else should concern you. Is that clear enough?”

You swallow thickly. It doesn’t sound hard at all. Discretion is essential in every job, isn’t it? But the way Pandora makes it sound, you’d assume there are bodies buried beneath the Snows’ estate. You’d laugh if her death stare weren’t so disquieting.

You peruse the contract, perplexed by most of the legal mumbo jumbo filling the pages. None of it rings any bell. You understand the gist of it however. You must preserve the president and his wife’s privacy. While you don’t know the specifics of the first lady’s condition, her public appearances have been few and far between in the last few years.

She used to be the envy of every woman in the Capitol. Beautiful, young and married to the dashing President Snow.

She was a fairytale princess come to life.

Then their son Martius was born. And when they held him up from the balcony of their mansion for all of Panem to gaze upon, they truly seemed like the perfect family.

Until one day, Livia Cardew simply…vanished.

She was noticeably absent from all the events of the season, some she even hosted herself. Tongues wagged of course, rumors and wild theories spreading like wildfire.

But no one knew the truth of what had happened to her.

The matter seems delicate. You promise yourself not to bring it up again.

You click the pen and scribble your name at the bottom of the very last page.

“I’ve…never signed a contract like that before starting a job.”

Pandora lets out a wry chuckle.

“Well, you’ve never worked for President Snow.”

As promised, you quit your two other jobs to focus solely on Martius. You’re hesitant at first. Your departed parents taught you never to put all your eggs in one basket. And it’s exactly what you’d be doing by trusting the Snows. But when you receive your first paycheck, long before the end of the week, every qualm you had fades. It’s more money than you’ve ever had, more money than you expected. Rent isn’t an issue anymore. Neither is food.

Besides, gifts keep coming from the estate. Clothes mostly, for both you and Laertes, but also jewelry, perfume and other fancy things you don’t need. Overwhelmed by President Snow’s generosity, you try to send some of it back, but you don’t have the heart to return everything when you see your brother’s happy face when he opens his wardrobe one day.

You’ve caught the self-conscious glimpses he casts at his classmates sometimes, when not wearing the Academy uniform. Their clothes are always brand new and custom, perfectly tailored while his are stitched back together by your clumsy hands whenever they fray at the seams. You’re not a seamstress but you’ve always done your best. But you know your best doesn’t compare to the access and privilege those kids have.

Other than those blessings, your time with Martius has been a breeze. Only hazy memories of your brother as a toddler linger in your mind, but you don’t recall him ever being as sweet and calm as the little boy is.

It hardly feels like work, caring for the small child. You spend the day playing along with his games, reading stories to him and, as the day nears its end, the two of you feed the ducks in the massive pond behind the mansion. He even gives them names and gets upset when they fight with each other.

“Lily doesn’t like James anymore,” he whispers to you one day, a sullen pout scrunching his tiny features.

“And why is that?”

“I think she’s angry that he steals her food.”

You chuckle and ruffle his golden locks. The little boy always has a story for everything he sees. At all times, his world must make sense. So if he cannot find a reason to explain what fills his gaze, he’ll weave a tale that matches it. His stories are each more wild than the other and he sometimes utters words you’ve never heard a four year old use.

But you surmise it is expected from the son of the president. When he isn’t with you, the little boy is often with his private tutor. Even at his tender age, the importance of manners and eloquence is impressed upon him.

Martius tugs at your skirt when you make your way to the door. You look down. His blue eyes are pleading.

“You’re leaving again?”

You heave out a long exhale. The little boy wasn’t so clingy before but with your bond growing, he’s been expressing more sadness from watching you go at the end of every day.

You hunker down to his level.

“My little brother’s expecting me.”

His forehead puckers. “Stay…”

“I told you before, Martius. I have a brother. He’ll miss me if I’m not here.”

“Okay,” he mumbles, giving a begrudging nod. Tears already swim in his eyes though. Panic flows through you. You didn’t want to upset him. You pick him up and bounce with him in your arms to try to soothe him.

“Oh, no. Don’t cry, sweetie.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nearly squeezing you to death when he wraps his arms around your neck. His loud, tearful sobs swell in the room. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow like always, okay? So I need you to be brave for me.” His grip on you loosens as he sniffles. You put him down and the two of you pinky promise that you’ll return. Your heart twists at the sight of his tear-stained little face.

You give his hair one last affectionate pat before rushing outside. If you stay, he might throw another tantrum. No matter what, you can never get mad at Martius. He’s just a child. In the absence of his mother, he’s bound to grow attached to any woman filling a role adjacent to hers. You loathe that you’re taking those moments from the first lady. Though it pleases you to have a steady job and spend time with the sweet boy, it feels wrong that she isn’t there. She should get to see her baby grow up. She should hear his inane ramblings and eccentric stories.

As time wears on, you’re dying to meet her and tell her about Martius. Is she truly so sick that she can’t even see him for a mere few minutes? You’re itching to break the rules and visit the west wing of the mansion. Sometimes you hear blood-curdling screams and wailing coming from the dark halls but you never dared venture through them. You know that if you did, Pandora would crucify you.

Laertes’ well-being matters more than your curiosity.

Humming absently, you halt in your tracks in the middle of a hallway. Confusion has you blinking. A peculiar noise bounces faintly against the walls. Your gaze drifts sideways, where the noise seems to come from. You’re clocking out. Whatever’s going on in the house isn’t any of your business at this hour.

But what if someone needs help? What if it’s something bad? You’d feel awful if you learnt something happened the next day and you pretended to ignore it. So you gingerly approach the wall. Your fingers graze the tapestry covering it.

Your eyes widen when the wall moves, a tiny crack forming in it.

Your eyes bulge. It’s an ajar door, you realize. A secret door one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t aware it was there. Light spills from the slight opening.

Confining your breath, you bend over the crack in the wall to get a glimpse of what’s behind it.

The vision crowding your sight makes the blood in your veins freeze.

President Snow rutting into a maid with his pants down to his ankles. His usually neat blonde locks are tousled, a few damp curls kissing his forehead. His massive cock glistens with the girl’s essence, disappearing into the girl’s spread lips over and over again. Her body is bent over the railing of the bed and her maid outfit is bunched around her hips, exposing her ass, the flesh trembling with each of the president’s harsh, pointed thrust.

Each time he snaps his hips he draws a broken moan from her. One of his hands is around the back of her throat while the other’s on the small of her back. He grunts low in his throat as she clenches around him, thrusting into her even faster than before.

The obscene sound of their coupling rises, coalescing with the feral grunts spilling from the president’s mouth. In that moment, he’s not the poised gentleman you’re used to seeing, he is an animal in rut chasing his high.

A shocked exhale escapes your lips. Your hand flies to cover your mouth. President Snow’s head snaps up, his gaze landing straight on you.

Your heart slams against your ribcage.

You jump back from the door and push the secret door closed. You dart across the hallway, determined to find the exit as quickly as you can. You don’t glance back, your steps hasty and panicked.

Pandora was right. It’s best not not to hear or see anything, to become a tomb in which secrets are buried.

You can only hope he didn’t recognize you through the tiny crack in the door.

Though you’re shaken to your core, you continue your work as a nanny. You still need money. You may have set aside everything you made thus far, but it will only sustain you and your brother for a month or two. Besides, you’ve already handed in your resignation for your other jobs. The positions have likely been filled. You can’t exactly show up out of the blue and ask for your former job back.

No. So you convince yourself that it’s alright. You have a good thing going anyway. You’re making more than you hoped. The child is happy. You’re happy. All is well. Or it would be at least.

…If you could conjure the memory of President Snow railing into the maid far away from your mind.

You want to forget it, bury the moment so deep in the abyss of your thoughts, it can never be unearthed.

But it isn’t so easy. Because every time your mind wanders even a little, you see him again. Skin glistening with sweat and blue eyes alight with lust. The image is tattooed into your brain.

You wonder if the first lady knows. Perhaps it’s why she’s hiding away. The weight of her husband’s indiscretions may have grown too heavy to carry. It sours your heart. President Snow seemed so kind, good and noble. He was nice to you. You still have the breast pocket he gave you tucked away in a drawer. You loathe to think he’d do that to his wife. No woman deserves this.

You lift your head when your name is uttered. You get to your feet. Adrift in your thoughts, you didn’t realize Pandora was in the nursery.

“Yes?”

“The president wants to see you in his office.”

Dread wrenches your gut. It’s exactly what you feared. Does he know? Did he see you? Your pulse picks up. What other reason would there be? He never summoned you before.

“Really, why?”

“He didn’t say, but I’m assuming it’s to congratulate you.”

Befuddlement wrinkles your forehead. “Congratulate me?”

Pandora heaves out a weary sigh. “Well, you’ve done much better than we thought,” she begrudgingly admits. “The young master smiles all the time.” She rolls her eyes. “Even if we must deal with his tantrums when you leave.”

A sliver of pride flutters through you with her admission. Pandora made her doubts about your capabilities plain and obvious from the beginning. It gladdens you that you may have changed her mind a little.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She turns to him, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s a small price to pay for his happiness.”

Your smile vanishes as she adds, “Now let me escort you to the president’s office. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you trail behind her. The entire trek to the president’s office, your stomach’s in knots. You keep wondering if it’s the day you’ll lose your job for being too nosy. You should have walked past the noise. You shouldn’t have peeked.

You inhale a lungful of nerve as Pandora opens the door to his office and frees room for you to enter. Your clammy hands wrench in your lap. He’s sitting behind his desk. You stagger further inside the room as he motions for you to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk. He looks the same as the first time you stumbled into him, disarmingly handsome in an impeccable shirt and pants that flatter his long legs.

A sharp contrast to the version of him that has plagued your thoughts lately.

His sky gaze follows you as you take a trembling seat.

“Are you settling in well?” he asks.

“Hm, yes,” you stammer, anxiously twining your fingers. “It’s pretty much the perfect job. I get to be around a cute child all day.”

“I hear my son is very fond of you.”

You bashfully dip your head. “He’s very easy to like. He’s such a good boy, sweet, kind, and curious. You and your wife are raising him well, sir.”

He hums in thought. “I can’t take much credit for that. I’ve tried my best to carve out time for Martius…but work’s kept me busy. As for Livia...” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Well she isn’t quite herself these days.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

He places one hand under his chin, scrutinizing you. You try not to twitch beneath his stare, your insides tight with dread.

“Hm, it’s strange,” he states after a minute that goes by like an eternity.

Your head rises. “What’s strange?”

“A girl like you.” His lips drag upward. “Sweet, nurturing, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be married already?”

Your lips part in astonishment. This isn’t the line of questioning you expected. “I-I’m not.”

“No fiancé?”

“No, sir.”

“A lover then?”

Warmth rushes to your face.

“No…”

He laughs, mirth dancing in his cobalt orbs.

“You must pardon me for being so forward but I simply find it astonishing. No suitors? It’s hard to believe since you’re so lovely, sweetheart.” He tilts his head. You shift in discomfort, his attention making you feel see-through. “I mean, a husband would have made your life easier than it’s been thus far, wouldn’t he, dove?”

A long exhale flows from your lips. “I’ve had offers, after I graduated from the Academy. There was even this boy, he was so kind to me.” The memory draws a small smile from you. “He proposed. I’m sure he’d make a great husband, but…”

“But…”

Your mouth dries.

“I know it’s probably naive and unrealistic but I want to marry for love, that great, life-changing love, like in those romance novels my mom used to love, not money or status.”

His eyes twinkle. “Or financial stability?”

Shame gathers in your chest. You know it sounds silly when uttered aloud.

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not. It’s sweet that you still believe in love.” He appears lost in a faraway memory, his gaze hazing over with remembrance. “I used to believe in it too. I used to think, ‘Who needs wealth and success and power when love conquers all?’”

He chuckles but it’s bereft of amusement.

“Really? What happened then?”

His gaze locks with yours.

“I grew up.”

Confused, you frown.

“But aren’t you and the first lady in love?”

Another laugh bursts from his chest.

“God, you’re sweet.” His tone lowers to a dulcet whisper. “It’s like none of the world’s ugliness has gotten to you yet.” He reveals matter-of-factly, “My wife and I hate each other.” His smile widens at your flabbergasted expression. “Always did. It’s best that way, more…efficient. Of course, there was a time, when we had…passion.” He licks his lips, something you can’t pinpoint flickering in his gaze. “But not anymore. She’s far too gone for that.”

He rises from his chair. You stiffen as he circles the desk, making slow steps towards you.

“Which is why I must…satiate my needs wherever I can,” he mumbles, fingers lurking under your chin, forcing your eyes to fall upon him. “Do you understand my meaning, dove?”

“I…yes.”

Discomfort flares within you. Tension hangs in the air, so heavy it clogs your airways.

He cocks his head, lips slanting crookedly.

“Do you really? With that innocent look in your eyes, it’s hard to tell.” His thumb sweeps over your shuddering bottom lip. “Men have needs. And am I not a man, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes you are, sir.”

He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “You saw everything that day, didn’t you?” Your heart stops.

Flames lick your face as you bow your head. “I-I didn’t see anything.”

His warm breath ghosts over your earshell.

“Liar,” he mumbles.

Your pulse quickens.

He leans back and nudges your chin upward.

“Since my wife fell sick, I’ve been very lonely. And sometimes…” He looms over you, crowding your space as you peer up at him, fingers squeezing the arms of the chair. “I need something soft and warm to forget that feeling.”

President Snow slowly falls to his knees in front of you. His fingers find your thigh, starting to creep under your skirt. A devilish glint sparkles in his cobalt gaze. He finds your center, pressing the sheer fabric into your folds. You gasp. He chuckles at your reaction. He starts teasing you through your panties, tracing your slit and dragging over your tender bud. Your breath hitches as the air around you grows hotter. You grow slick beneath his finger, your thighs shaking as tingles bloom on your flesh.

“Sir…” you whimper, tears welling up in your eyes.

He pushes further inside you, adding another finger, and you unleash an audible breath. You try to close your thighs. He places his other hand on your knee to keep you open for him.

The air in your lungs grows thinner as he rubs your core through your soaked panties. The friction is a delicious torture. Pleasure pools in your belly causing your face to burn with shame. You’re getting embarrassingly wet with President Snow’s attention.

“I just want a little taste,” he murmurs, his deep timbre bleeding lust. “Just one time and it’ll never happen again,” he promises fervently as his lips graze your ankle. You find some relief when his fingers disappear from your drenched center. But your respite is ephemeral. He slips his hands under your ass and tugs at your panties.

Panic widens your eyes. Cheeks ablaze, you pull at the material between your legs with both hands. But he’s stronger than you and effortlessly drags the fabric along your legs. A wicked smile plays on his lips as tears glisten in your eyes. It’s soon down to your ankles. You squeal when the president yanks the panties off your foot, tossing them aside. Cool air sneaks beneath your skirt, swirling over your bare folds.

Hands over your knees to keep you spread, his wolfish gaze sweeps over your glossy folds.

Your skin heats, embarrassment gathering in your chest. You’ve never been this vulnerable and exposed in front of anybody before.

“Please, President Snow, s-stop…”

“But you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he states smugly, sinking a finger inside your weeping core, as if to make a point. Your breath hitches. He takes his finger out sluggishly. You clench when he grazes one of your sensitive spots. “Just as sweet as I expected,” he hums, obscenely licking your essence off his long digit.

Without a warning, he buries his head between your thighs. A sharp exhale leaps from your mouth. His cool tongue traces a wet trail over your folds. President Snow traces maddening patterns over your swollen bud causing your eyes to roll back.

You card your fingers through his silken platinum locks, hoping to push his head away. But the delightful sensations grow too overwhelming. You unravel beneath his sinful ministrations, your limbs twitching as the thread of your thoughts comes loose.

Your grip on his hair weakens. Your belly tightens, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

You jolt as his tongue flickers over your tender heap of nerves.

“P-President…”

He purrs against your folds and the vibrations rock through your core. You squirm in the chair. Your thighs quake. Your vision dims, your mind blank as waves of pleasure swaddle you in their tide. Protests scatter on your tongue, replaced by wanton whimpers and moans.

Electricity ripples through your spine as you cry out.

Bliss engulfs you and your legs turn liquid. Shame swirls in your gut as your juices coat his tongue. He drinks your nectar, elation rumbling in his chest.

When he lifts his head, you hardly recognize him. The feral glow in his gaze chills your blood.

There is no time to collect yourself, realize what just occurred, as the blonde gathers your limp frame from the chair and places you on his desk. Documents and papers are flung to the ground as he grabs your thighs and presses his throbbing hard-on against your cunt.

He hastily unbuttons his pants, freeing his hard length. He fists his cock and guides it through your wet entrance. Your back arches, the sudden intrusion robbing you of air. He reaches the hilt of you in a few seconds, giving you no time to accommodate his thick girth. You collapse over the desk, weak whimpers leaving you as your walls are stretched to their limit. He drags out of you, his pupils flaring as they trace the motion of his length in and out of you. Coriolanus leans over you. He snaps his pelvis into your hips, each of his thrusts tearing tearful moans from your throat.

When you turn your head, hot tears flowing down your cheeks, he grabs your chin so you’re forced to meet his lustful stare. Bracing himself on the desk, he reaches between your bodies to pinch your swollen clit. He plucks at your soft bud until you shatter around him with a sob. His throat bobs, a look of sheer bliss flitting across his face when you clench around him.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you the minute I saw you,” he confesses, trailing soft pecks over your collarbone. A sinister chuckle peals from his lips. “The way you looked at me with those sweet, innocent eyes…it made me rock-hard.” He tilts your chin towards him, his thumb skimming over your parted lips.

Satisfaction glimmers in his eyes as they flick over your prone form.

“You should thank me. Those boys at the Academy wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you…” His cock twitches inside you. Sticky warmth spills from him, painting your walls and dripping past your hole. Drops of his seed leak onto the desk. A throaty sigh pours from President Snow’s throat as your cunt flutters around him.

His teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“...But I do.”

After what occurs in his office, you hope to avoid President Snow. Those hopes are swiftly dashed however. President Snow lied to you. It doesn’t happen once. In fact, you begin to lose count of the actual number.

Every time the president finds a little spare time, he summons you.

Sometimes you end up bent over the desk in his office as he pours the frustrations of the day into your warm hole. Sometimes he prefers you sprawled on your back in one of the multitude of luxurious beds in the mansion while he devours you as if you were his very last meal. And at times, he grows even more impatient and simply shoves you against a wall before ravaging you.

More than once, a maid or footman has walked in on the two of you, and you’ve had to swallow your shame and embarrassment.

As you’ve come to learn, the entire staff is aware of Coriolanus Snow’s insatiable appetite and none of them seems to care.

You feel sick, desperate, trapped in something twisted and awful you never signed up for.

But how does one say no to President Coriolanus Snow? The entire Capitol yields to his every whim. And you are the same. Here to bow and smile and lie back whenever he demands it.

You long to focus on your job, to care for Martius and nothing else. Whenever the boy looks up at you with those innocent blue eyes, eerily similar to his father’s, your stomach wrenches. You pray he never comes to learn what kind of man his father is. You wish he’d stay just as kind and sweet as he is now.

Those are the thoughts drifting through your mind as you watch Martius play with his toy trains. Your eyes wander towards the window. Outside, orange and purple hues are bleeding into the sky, the afternoon nearing its end. Your stomach coils. It’s during times like these that President Snow often seeks you out. You’ve tried to run away from him but it’s all a game to Coriolanus, and he always delights in chasing you through the hallways.

Your brows crumple as you note that Martius has stopped playing. He drops his toy and rushes to your side. Confounded by his behavior, you’re on the cusp of asking him what’s wrong…but your gaze follows what caught his attention on the other side of the room.

You fall silent, your eyes rounding in shock.

“Martius. Come here, my love,” says the blonde woman in a white robe and nightgown, her arms wide open.

Time stands still for a few seconds. It takes you a while to realize who stands before the door. She looks so different, more ghost than woman, her glassy blue eyes hollow and sunken. But her likeness is unmistakable. Even with her graying, limp tresses and ashen complexion, you recognize Livia Cardew. The president’s wife.

You bolt to your feet. Arms still open, Livia takes slow steps towards Martius.

“I’m your mom, sweetie. Don’t you remember me?”

The little boy’s fists clutch your skirt as he hides his face against your leg.

“You’re not my mom.”

A stricken look twists Livia’s features as she shrinks. As if her own son just drove a knife through her heart. Your chest twinges. While her abrupt appearance is a shock, you can’t imagine how she must feel. You place a hand on Martius’ back and try to nudge him forward.

“Martius. It’s the First Lady, your mother. Go on, hug her,” you urge softly.

He shakes his head, tears filling his eyes as he hides behind you even more.

You’re stunned. Has it truly been that long?

“Martius-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, Livia lunging at you, her eyes wild with fury.

“You! This is all your fault,” she hisses. She points at you and scoffs, “You’re his new whore, aren’t you?” Her mouth wobbles as she grips her head. “First you take my husband, now my son.”

Martius begins to sob. His loud cries overlap with his mother’s frantic yelling. You cover his eyes, tossing Livia an apologetic look.

“First Lady, I never meant-”

Before you can explain yourself, she grabs a nearby vase and smashes it. White roses scatter on the floor. Stomping all over the petals and broken glass, she collects one of the shards and races towards you. Terror numbs you. You freeze as Livia aims the shard at you, scarlet droplets dripping on her nightgown as she squeezes her fist around the glass.

Your eyes shut as you wait for the inevitable strike.

You shiver, waiting still.

But it doesn’t come.

“Livia, darling, that’s enough. It’s time for you to sleep and take your medicine.”

The familiar sound of Coriolanus’ voice causes your eyes to snap open.

You watch him restrain a struggling Livia. She curses at him, fighting him with all her might. It’s a painful spectacle.

“No, don’t touch me!” Other staff members rush into the room. It takes several people to hold Livia down, colorful expletives pouring from her mouth as she punches and kicks whoever comes close. “You’re killing me! You bastard! Give me my son back! Martius! Martius!”

The child trembles against your skirt, his tear-filled gaze stuck to the floor.

Eventually someone manages to stick a needle into Livia’s neck. She instantly goes limp, arm still reaching for her son in her last conscious second.

“Take her away,” Coriolanus instructs.

The first lady’s flaccid form is dragged out of the room. Still shaken by what you just witnessed, you don’t move a muscle. President Snow approaches you, worry swimming in his blue orbs.

“Are you alright, dove?” He cups your cheeks, his brows crumpling as his gaze settles on your neck. “I’ll have Doctor Gaul look at you. She has an ointment for that.” He caresses your cheeks, smiling. You gape at him. How can he smile at a time like that? “It won’t even scar. I promise.”

You graze your neck. Your fingers come away bloody. Oh. Livia nicked you with the shard but you didn’t even feel it. Perhaps adrenaline numbed you to the pain.

“Dada,” Martius chimes, lifting his chubby arms.

Coriolanus’ face warms as he picks up his son. He tosses him in the air and catches him. Martius giggles through his tears.

“My sweet boy. That was very scary, wasn’t it?” he says, balancing his son on his hip. Martius nods and wipes his nose. Coriolanus flicks his cheek, beaming at him. “Don’t worry, son. The scary lady won’t bother you anymore in a few months.”

A wave of ice blows through your veins. You wonder why the president uttered those words with such certainty. Like a promise. Or a prophecy. Almost as if he knows exactly when the grim reaper will come knock on his wife’s door.

The next day, you hand over your resignation to Pandora. Her expression is skeptical as she gauges the manila folder you give her.

“This is for the president,” you announce.

She unleashes a deep exhale. “You should reconsider, sleep on it.”

You almost laugh. Sleep on it? You can hardly find rest, the picture of a disheveled Livia Cardew crying out for her son haunting your nights. Whatever befell upon the poor woman, you wouldn’t be surprised if her husband somehow had a hand in it. It broke your heart, seeing her like that, her own son unable to recognize her. You also despise the role Coriolanus forced you to play in erasing her memory.

All of it feels wrong.

And most of all, you don’t want President Snow to use you to satisfy his lewd desires anymore. He took all your firsts, all the moments that should have been beautiful, and made them a nightmare you have to relive every time he touches you.

You respected him; you admired him. Now you can’t be in his presence without dread whispering through you. What will he make you do this time? How will he make you small and powerless again?

“I can’t…I can’t do this anymore. He can hire someone else to care for him.”

Pandora purses her lips and shakes her head.

“It’s really not that simple. The president has developed…a fondness for you.”

You bristle. “I have to go back home. Laertes is expecting me.”

“You won’t like what comes next, trust me.” Her gaze narrows. “No one leaves the president.”

Ignoring the shudder elicited by her daunting words, you pivot and make a beeline towards the exit. Pandora’s voice echoes down the hallways.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Depleted, you glumly make your way to the gates. You enter the car that takes you back home everyday. Your thoughts wander as the Snow’s house grows smaller through the car window. You were thrilled when you got this job. It felt like kismet after the year you and your brother had. A rainbow after the rain. A slice of hope.

How it all went to hell so quickly. You’re still reeling from it. You’ve no idea what you’ll do next. The only thing you know for certain is that you will not step foot into the Snows’ estate ever again.

The car suddenly halts. You bump your head into the passenger’s seat. Wincing, you grip the sides of your head. As you retrieve your senses, you look around. You stopped.

You toss a questioning look at the driver.

But before he can respond, the car door opens and you’re yanked outside. Two pairs of strong arms drag you away from the car.

You take in the blue uniforms of the men. Terror pulses through your blood.

Peacekeepers.

Noting the guns at their sides, you stop trying to resist. There’s no fighting against them, ever. They are the Capitol’s fist and carry the President’s will. You don’t stand a chance. In fact, you likely never did. You slump in their grip, despair thrumming inside you.

They escort you to a black car with tinted windows. Your pulse soars. You’ve only ever seen one individual step out of this car.

The peacekeepers toss you inside and slam the door shut.

Your fearful gaze rises to him.

He casually sits in front of you, his eyes narrowed.

“You disappoint me, dove.” He lets out a weary sigh. “After everything I’ve done for you…you try to leave me. I thought you were smarter than that.”

You twine your hands, sputtering, “I-I’m not the right person for this job, sir.”

He slides his fingers under your chin, tilting it upward.

“Oh but you’re perfect. My son loves you. You’re sweet, dutiful and most importantly…” He smirks. “You are mine. Mine to hold, spoil and fuck whenever I please for however long I please.”

The prospect fills you with dread. He wants you to be his toy again, submissive, available whenever he pleases.

“Sir…”

His jaw ticks, his hold on your jaw tightening.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if your brother could attend the University, free of charge? A bright young mind such as his, I believe he deserves it.” His blue eyes twinkle. “Instead of, let’s say…end up in a District, his name chosen as a tribute in the next Hunger Games.” Your heart sinks to your feet. “That’d be awful, wouldn’t it? So cruel…” he mumbles, stroking your trembling bottom lip.

“No, please,” you beseech, tears swelling in your eyes. Your brother’s all you have left in the world. Nothing can happen to him.

Coriolanus fondles your cheek, the tender gesture a sharp contrast to the wicked words rolling off his tongue.

“It’s all up to you, then, dove. As long as you behave, I’ll give you the world. But if you act like a little brat again…” A threat lurks in his soft tone, a glint of madness swaying in his cobalt orbs. “I really don’t know what I might do.”

Chills dance over your spine.

“I promise to never do it again,” you blurt out.

He pulls out a square from his breast pocket. It’s identical to the one he used the first time.

But a lifetime seems to have passed since that moment, the world now so different from what you imagined, and the man before you…even more so.

“Good girl,” he lauds while swiping away your tears.

He shoves the pocket square back in its place. Coriolanus then beams at you as he starts unbuttoning his shirt and undoing his pants.

“Now, I’ve had a long, exhausting day. So how about you get on your knees for me and make it better with that sweet mouth of yours, dove?”

#dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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luveline · 1 month

Note

hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.”

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?”

“Close your eyes.”

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks.

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.”

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank.

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly.

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin?

You suppose that’s you.

“I don’t know.”

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?”

“Humiliating.”

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks.

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should.

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears.

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks.

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means.

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly.

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.”

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity.

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.”

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says.

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks.

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.”

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains.

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all.

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.”

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents.

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.”

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs.

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.”

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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satoruhour · 4 months

Note

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!!

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue.

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow.

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him — but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves.

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

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thebestofoneshots · 1 month

Text

A LITTLE BIT OF PAINT | wolfstar x reader

Pairing: R.L. x S.B. x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: smut, threesome, finger fucking, oral (male receiving), handj*b, dry h*mping, thigh ridding, p in v, Remus is a mess, mild Dom!Remus (if you squint really hard), he might also have a praise k!nk, Sirius is a flirt (danger to humanity honestly), homoerotic scenes(?), you and Sirius can’t take your eyes off Rem, Rem can’t take his eyes off you either, consent is sexy!

Prompt: Sirius and you are art students and you’ve got an assignment, a nude painting, but you can’t paint each other. Trying to convict Remus to model for you was hard enough, but painting him, while he looks so damn stunning, might prove a harder endeavour to accomplish.

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

“So?” Sirius asked as he leaned onto Remus, “would you do it?”

“Pretty please?” you asked with a small pout and a few blinks.

Remus sighed, “Why don’t you just paint each other?”

Both you and Sirius had been trying to convince Remus to be your nude model for an assignment for the last 20 minutes. He was your best friend, and both you and Sirius had always wanted to use him as a model, but had never been too keen to do it, not even clothed. But you needed him now.

“We can’t do someone we’ve fucked,” Sirius said with a sigh, “We’d already done it otherwise.”

“Just use each other and draw a face from a magazine,” Remus offered.

“It won’t work either,” you responded now, “We’ve both been models for the class, they know our bodies.”

Remus tried not to blush at the thought of Sirius and you, naked in the centre of a room for hours on end while people stared and drew all the small details of your bodies. The details that he assumed had only been seen by the other, now he regretted not taking the class, but scolded himself out of those stupid thoughts.

He sighed, “Ask James?”

“Regulus’ gonna do James,” Sirius responded, “He was obviously more than thrilled to oblige him.”

“We wouldn’t be asking you if we didn’t need you, please Moony!”

Remus looked to the side, licking his lips before biting on the bottom one and sighing, however could he say no to the two of you. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Wait, really?” you asked in disbelief, a huge smile dancing on your lips, it made you look stunning.

He nodded, “But you’ll owe me, big one.”

You leaned in to hug him and then Sirius did the same, both of you sandwiching Moony in between the two of you.

“Anything for Moony,” Sirius added.

Just a few days later, you were outside of one of the classrooms. It was a smaller cosy one that tended to be used for models, with huge windows but near the top of the building so no one would be able to look inside. You had rented it for the rest of the day since both you and Sirius were determined to finish in one sitting, and neither of you was sure if Remus would subject himself to more than that either.

“You think he’ll come?” you asked as you looked at your watch for the third time that day.

“He’ll come, luv. Don’t worry about it.”

You sighed, Remus was seldom late. And it took you some time to convince him, you were scared he wouldn’t want to anymore.

You were fumbling with the keys to the room, and just as you inserted them inside the keyhole, you heard a fumbling at the end of the corridor.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, his bag hanging on the side and a coat hanging on the other side. I got held up by the traffic, “I brought the car since it said it was gonna rain, thought I could give you both a ride back, when we were done.”

You smiled when you spotted him and flipped the keys as Sirius gave you an “I told you so look”.

Remus was breathing heavily when he reached the two of you, “and then I couldn’t find the room, this place is a bloody maze.”

Both you and Sirius chuckled at that. “We arrived late to our first class,” Sirius said. “The teacher told us we’d have to find our own model for being late and we made a deal to model for each other, that’s how we met.”

“I know,” Remus said. He remembered when Sirius and you became friends, first Sirius didn’t shut up about you, then he introduced you to each other, and he understood why Sirius couldn’t shut up about you. Remus and Sirius went way back, they had been friends since elementary, along with James, Peter, Lily, Marlene and Mary. You had quickly gotten along with all of them, and they had made you a part of their little group.

Finally, the door clicked open and you pushed on it, allowing both boys to get in before shutting it down and putting both the hand lock and the latch bolt. Remus threw you a look. “We’ve heard stories of people walking in on people painting and ruining their stuff by knocking things out. I doubt you’d want someone walking in on you.”

Remus nodded and moved to sit on the small coach on the side. Thankfully the room was designed in a way to make models feel at ease. There was a music box where you could play tapes on the side, a sofa for them to feel comfortable, and then there was a table in the middle of the room. Both you and Sirius walked to the closet and he pulled on the easels while you went for the props you were planning to use. A small basket filled with fruits. “You brought the sheet?”

“On my bag,” he said as he nodded to the side.

“Kay,” you said as you leaned down to get it.

“You may start changing Moons,” Sirius said, as the boy moved to help him with the easel. They had one in their apartment, and Remus already knew how to set it up from seeing Sirius do it so many times before.

He swallowed and made sure to finish setting up the easel before nodding and walking towards the table. Sirius was taking off his leather jacket, and Remus attempted to ignore the way his friend’s muscles bent as he did. Sirius had always been beautiful, but this attraction he felt for his best friend was relatively new, he could barely stand it.

You were still looking for the props when you turned around and spotted Remus pulling his soft brown jumper over his head. He wore a soft beige cotton shirt underneath it that was just a little tight over his arms. You tried not to bite your lips as you stared. Both Sirius and you had talked about how pretty you both thought Remus was, what a shame it was he wasn’t into either of you, if only you knew.

Sirius gave you an amused look, his lips curling into a mocking smile and his brows shooting up and down. You pushed him lightly with your shoulder and walked toward the table before your cheeks warmed even further.

“We’ll do mine first,” Remus explained, at least my sketch, Sirius’ next and then we’ll alternate.

“You’ll do different poses?” Remus asked as he looked up at you, pulling the other shirt over his shoulders little after. Sirius tried not to laugh at the way you were looking at his friend. He had already seen how ripped Remus was, they were roommates, after all.

“Yeah,” you responded as you got a hold of yourself. “We are gonna make it seem like we drew different people.”

Remus nodded in response. He was slightly self-conscious about his scars, he’d gotten them as a kid in an accident. His parents were zoologists and worked with wolves, they had taken a puppy home since he was hurt, and Remus thought it was a dog. He pulled the hurt animal out of the cage to “play with it” but accidentally grabbed him from the part he’d been hurt, the animal retaliated by slashing him, face, torso, back, and legs. Remus had been 4 and had no way to defend himself, he also didn’t want to hurt the puppy so he allowed it to happen. When his parents found him, he was crying in a pool of blood, and the wolf pup had hidden somewhere in their garden.

There was apprehension in your eyes as you stared at his scars, not because they were ugly, you thought Remus was beautiful, but because you thought of the pain they had once caused him. You cleared your throat. “I got this for you,” you explained as you showed him the basket of fruits, you had bought them all yesterday and left them in the small fridge in the room. “You’ll be holding in both of your arms, it’s like a recreation of an older painting,” you explained.

Remus nodded, taking in the information as he fumbled with the button of his trousers. Half focused on what you said, half mortified over getting naked in front of you and Sirius.

You pulled the basket in your hands again, “Kind of like this, okay?” you said as you grabbed the basket in the way he would be grabbing it, giving the fruits one last arrangement and taking a picture for reference in case they moved around. He gave you an understanding nod and you gave him a thumbs up in return. Sirius walked over to take Remus’ clothes from the table, and hastily dropped them over the smaller sofa, bringing over a bottle of wine, a decanter and an empty cup.

“Our concept is based on gods, she’s going for Bacchus,” he explained, Remus was fumbling around with the trousers at the end of his feet, taking longer than he normally would to take off his clothes, Sirius obviously noticed. “She wants to capture the youth and lust of winemaking.”

Remus gave him somewhat of a stern look and Sirius smiled cheekily in return. “And yours?” he asked.

“Eros and Psyche,” Sirius responded with a slight tilt of his head.

“And Psyche?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head with it yet,” Sirius added condescendingly and got a shove from Remus in return.

You were looking at the two of them with a smile, you’d always loved the relationship with the two, there was never a time they were more at ease than when they were with each other.

Sirius sighed, and you smiled. Remus still felt nervous, taking his socks off and keeping his boxers on as he waited for new instructions. Sirius gave him a look as he sat on the window just behind you, and your easel, looking at how you sharpened your pencils and charcoal for sketching. “Would you help me pose him?” You asked, turning your head slightly to Sirius before focusing again on your pencils and canvas, taking a ruler to break down the piece into smaller squares to make sure you got your proportions right.

Sirius nodded, jumped down from the window seal and picked up the white sheet he’d brought from his backpack.

“Time to take them off, mate,” he said. Remus swallowed and nodded, taking off his boxers carefully and throwing them in the same direction Sirius had thrown the rest of his clothes. Then he placed his hand over himself and stared in between you and Sirius nervously. You were still focused on your canvas, so you didn’t quite see the interaction, but Sirius did and smiled. He had the inkling little feeling that maybe Remus was into you. He had told you about it but you had shrugged it off, Remus had become something like your best friend, there was no way.

But Sirius had known Remus for longer than you did, and he knew his friend like he knew the back of his hand –and boy he knew that one well from seeing it so much while painting. And the nervous glances Remus kept throwing your way, made him feel a little more confident of his theory. Perhaps all the two of you needed was a little push, and then that one recurring dream he had could become a reality.

Sirius extended the sheet over Remus and placed it on his arms, just falling off the shoulders like some kind of shawl, he then accommodated the sheet covering one of his legs and his private parts. Remus seemed reassured by that, and Sirius again, tried not to smile knowingly. He then passed Remus the basket and helped him accommodate it in place.

“It's not too heavy is it?”

“Not right now,” Remus said as he held it between his hands. Sirius then proceeded to place his hands on Remus’ bare back and traced his fingers over his friend’s muscles in a reassuring and discreet manner, giving a light squeeze near his neck.

“Relax,” he said as he looked at the boy. Sirius had no idea how little relaxing that devious smile of his was, Remus’ skin burned at his touch. “Lean your head back a little bit, would you?” Remus swallowed and did as told, anything to have Sirius step away before he noticed the things he was actually doing to him. “A little bit more,” Sirius insisted and placed his hand on the boy’s neck. Allowing it to linger as he moved him around as he pleased.

“Hey Angel,” he called, and you looked up, smiling at the sight of the two boys, “Is this all right?”

“Come here,” you told Sirius, he finally let go of Rem and walked towards you, standing just behind the easel just at your side. “What do you think? Isn’t he a little too stiff?”

“Yeah,” Sirius responded.

“Thought so,” you breathed and left your pencil and charcoal on the easel before walking towards Remus. “Close your eyes, would you?” you asked softly. Remus hesitated before doing what told. “Take a deep breath for me, good, that’s good… Remember that time you told me about your trip to Dover? You told me you climbed to the very top of the castle, that it was freezing cold and that no one but you had been brave enough to climb up to the roof. It was empty but there was a thin layer of snow on the ground. So thin that when you pressed your feet, it melted away allowing you to see the stone.

“You mentioned you leaned over the edges and got to see the castle, the grounds and then, then you got to see the ocean.” Remus' tense self was slowly starting to subdue. “You said you could hear the distant waves, and then you felt a small prickle in your cheek.”

“It started snowing,” Remus said softly.

You smiled, took a grape from his basket and placed it near his mouth, pushing it in between his lips. He opened his mouth when he felt the fruit and ate it with a frown, opening his eyes to look at it, and then at you. You were so bloody close to him.

“There you go,” you said with a smile. “Much better now, keep that relaxed face of yours so I can paint it, will you?” you added teasingly. Remus was munching on the grape with a confused and yet amused face. You gave him a short wink and then went back to your spot, missing the slight flush that coated his cheek.

“Comfortable?” Sirius teased.

Remus threw him a look and you swatted Sirius with your pencil softly. “Stop teasing him, he’ll tense again,” you scolded. Remus couldn’t help but smile at the small interaction between the two and you finished up with the sharpening, picking up the pencil and starting to sketch. Remus let his head fall back as you traced, closing his eyes and changing his stance every once in a while, pulling his head off and watching you knit your brows together as you moved your pencil over the canvas.

“You’re getting the proportions wrong,” Sirius said. “His hand is bigger than that.”

You grumbled in return, “I know! I just–“ you pulled an eraser and started to furiously move it over the canvas, Remus was looking at the two of you carefully. “I can’t get it to work out.”

“Want help?”

“You can’t keep helping me when I don’t get the hands right…”

“Why not? You always help me with light and shadow, you’re an expert.”

You sighed, “It’s not the same Sirius.”

“Yes it is,” he said in a no-nonsense kind of way, then he placed his hand over yours, and started guiding your sketch. “Come on, loosen up.”

Meanwhile, Remus was looking at the domestic scene between the two with a mix of admiration and longing. The two of you looked stunning as you painted him, both deeply focused on the canvas, with a casual glance straight at his hand holding the basket, he smiled as he saw Sirius lean even closer to you, obviously unnecessary but something Sirius did often anyway. He had never seen his friend as smitten with a human as he had seen him with you.

Eventually, Sirius let go of your hand and you added a few other touches. “Do you want to start painting or should I start with my sketch first?” he asked.

You turned your head and stared at the cloudy sky, “I’ll use the sunlamp for my lighting, we can do yours if you want, that way you take advantage of natural light for your drawing.”

He nodded, “Okay, get ready, I’ll work on the canvas.”

You sent him a short wink and he walked behind his easel. Remus took the time to put down the basket and accommodate the sheet around him a little better. “Cold?” you asked, “we can turn off the AC.” He shook his head. Just self-conscious then, you realised. Well, he won’t have to worry too much about that.

You took your hoodie off and then, but it wasn’t until you took a hold of your shirt and flipped it over your head that Remus realised what was going on. Your hands were behind your bra when he averted his gaze to the side completely blushed. “Sirius, If you’re painting her, can I leave?”

“Of course not,” Sirius said simply, “I’m painting the both of you.”

“You what?”

“Eros and Psyche, remember?”

“But you said you couldn’t paint people you’ve fucked,” he retorted in a rather accusing manner.

“Yeah, that’s why I’ll switch her hair colour and you’ll cover her face.”

“You never said I’d have to pose with your naked girlfriend!”

“It’s okay Rem, I don’t mind, I’ve been a nude model for the class a couple of times.”

Remus, as he would naturally turn to look at you when you spoke, but quickly turned his head to the side when he realised you were now completely naked.

But I do! He thought as he tried to think of anything other than the curve of your breasts. Naked grandma, naked grandma.

You eyed Sirius, “Maybe we can–“ you started, biting your lip.

“Nonsense. We’re all adults, go on.”

You gave Sirius a stern look and he gave you back an equally determined one, nodding towards Remus, a clear indication for you to walk his way.

You took a deep breath but did what he wanted anyway. Walking towards Remus and gently placing a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, If you really don’t want to do this-“

Remus’ head snapped your way, he focused his eyes on yours as best as he could, “No, I– I just– I wasn’t mentally prepared.”

You smiled and tilted your head. You could see the self-restraint he was using not to look at your chest, Sirius was really trying not to cackle behind you as he sharpened his pencils, “You can look,” you said, “you’re gonna see them anyway Rem.” He gave you a frustrated frown. You smiled teasingly in return.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked. He was about ready to just stare for half a second and then move on with his life but he couldn’t quite look away. Not when he saw them perk up for him, his warm breath so close to you causing such a reaction.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Sirius said with a smile from behind the easel. The kind of confident smile of one who knew he could touch them whenever he wanted.

Remus cleared his throat and looked at Sirius. Naked grandma. NAKED GRANDMA. “Go on with your painting, yeah?”

“You haven’t even posed,” he retorted with a smile. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “where do you want me?”

Remus tried not to think of those words, and not to memorise them either. He didn’t want to have dreams about it. Sirius on the other hand, smirked and walked over to the two of you, “Alright mate, time to lose the sheet,” he said as he pulled the one thing covering Remus’ body. While Rem shot to cover himself, Sirius gave you a look and then winked.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you tilted your head, what the hell are you up to, pretty boy?

“Okay, Moony. I need you to sit on the table.” Remus did as told, “Now open your legs a little bit.” Remus gave a stern look to Sirius but did as told, still using his hands to cover himself. “Please Rem,” he added, “I’ll show you mine and you’ll show me yours? Take those hands off, would you? We’ve both seen plenty of dicks already.”

You were looking at Remus’ clavicle as he did, trying to avoid the spot that made him so self-conscious, but Sirius was way bolder than that, and he stared straight at his friend’s cock instead. Was that a twitch? Sirius smiled, bit his lip, and turned back to you.

“You’ll be in between his legs, he’ll have his arms around your arms and his head on your shoulder, is that okay?”

“Okay,” you said simply. Now, had it been any other person, perhaps you wouldn’t have accepted the pose, but this was Remus, you trusted Remus.

Remus, who realised there was no use in arguing, did what Sirius had described, leaning forward so you wouldn’t have to stand so close to him. He tried to avoid his chest brushing into yours, ever the gentleman. Anyone else might have just taken advantage.

Sirius nodded and walked behind his easel again, “Luv, hide your head on his neck, okay?”

“Mhm,” you said and did as told. Being so close to Remus was making you feel things. He was really warm and strong. You enjoyed the way he held you, Sirius could tell. He also knew you as the back of his hand.

“Would you mind leaning in a little closer to him?”

You nodded and did as told. Now your chest was brushing against his, Remus could feel your hardened nipples against his chest, the tip of his ears was now red, even if a good deal of blood was going south. You assumed it was due to embarrassment.

Sirius had already started to draw, and you decided you’d try and ease him, you bent your elbows and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, allowing his grip to become a lot more secure, “It's okay,” you whispered. “Sirius is way faster at sketching than me, he’ll be over in a second. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“No, I’m sorry for making this so awkward,” he said softly. “I bet you are used to this and I’m making it weird.”

“Not really,” you said honestly, leaning your head on his shoulder a little more, that was something you had done often, with clothes, though. “I’ve never modelled with anyone other than Sirius. I only said I would because it would be you.”

“You what?” Remus asked, you accommodated and your lips accidentally brushed against his neck, he felt the blush spreading, he was losing control. He couldn’t keep thinking of a naked grandma when he had you pressed against him, whispering on his neck, your warm breath against his skin igniting him like a match against dry leaves.

“I only agreed to Sirius’ pose when he proposed it because you’d be the male model. I don’t like modelling so close to other people.”

Remus sighed, closing his eyes, his cock was already half hard, and here you were talking to him about trusting him to be the male model, he was a total dick.

“Luv, lean in a little closer would you?” Sirius asked.

Remus didn’t even have enough time to give Sirius a warning glance since you confidently did as told, and that’s when you felt it: hard, brushing just under your belly button. You pulled apart just for a second and looked down.

He is huge.

Remus was beet red and staring at Sirius with a mix of exasperation, embarrassment, and anguish. But neither of you seemed to mind, you just pulled your hips slightly back and went back to the previous pose, your nipples brushing against his chest again and making his boner grow even more.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “It’s actually quite normal, you’d be surprised how many times it happens.”

Remus had his eyes closed shut and was trying not to think, not of your soft chest against him, not of your soft breath fanning against his skin, and certainly not of how close your pussy was to his dick.

You could tell how much more tense he was now. “Do you want to take a break?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Let’s just get over with it.” The last thing Remus needed was to take a break only for it to happen again the minute your skin came into contact with his.

“Are you sure? You’re a lot more tense now, Moons,” you said with a frown as you gently brushed your hand on his soft back, tracing a finger over one of his scars without quite realising you were doing it.

He shook his head, “No, it’s okay.”

“Remus–“ Sirius started.

“It won’t work,” he snapped a little harsher now.

Sirius’s perspicacious look turned into a smirk, he knew he wasn’t imagining things. He gently placed his pencil on the easel and walked over to Remus. “Why not Moony?”

“Sorry?” He asked, nervous. You felt him tense even further and pulled back, he got a glimpse of your breasts again and he only became harder.

“Sirius, you’re making him more nervous,” you added with a frown, your hand still brushing reassuringly on his back.

“No,” he replied, and focused his gaze back on Remus. “I want to know why it wouldn’t work.”

Remus grabbed the basket that was still lying around and placed it over his lap, covering his ever-growing boner.

“You don’t have to respond to that, Rem.”

“He does,” Sirius insisted.

Remus looked at Sirius in disbelief before huffing. “You’re making your bloody gorgeous girlfriend, pose with me and hug me, and lay her head on my shoulder, all while naked. And you’re looking at us, with that, piercing fucking gaze of yours while you do. A break is not going to help because you’ll make us do it again!”

Sirius still had a stern face on, but you noticed the small twist on his lips, he was holding back a smirk.

“Sirius,” you warned.

“No,” he said and focused on Remus again. “Remus, you think my girlfriend’s gorgeous?”

“Everyone thinks your girlfriend’s gorgeous.”

“No, Remus. Do you think she is?”

Remus avoided Sirius’ gaze, red with embarrassment and anger. More at himself than anyone else. His jaw was clenched and his eyes squeezed shut.

Sirius threw you an amused look and you gave him an impatient one. You could tell he was playing with Moony and you didn’t like it one bit. Sirius, though, wasn’t one to stop things so easily, and he pulled you softly from your spot in between his legs and took it, placing both hands on Remus’ shoulders who just tensed even further. He leaned closer to his ear, “I’m asking you something, Remus.”

Remus didn’t reply, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching. You were about to pull Sirius back but he spoke again, “I’m asking because–” he tone was softer, the threatening tone from earlier fading into a more lewd one, “It’s okay of you do,” he whispered, and then pressed his lips to Remus’ tense shoulder. Remus’s eyes snapped open and he spotted you, you gave him a short smile, and then he felt Sirius’s lips pressed against him again, “because we both have the hots for you as well,” Sirius mumbled against his skin.

Remus swallowed thickly at that, and you could feel a familiar pulsing between your legs.

Remus pushed Sirius off, the other boy just stared at his friend with a smile, “don’t play with me, Black!” he warned, angry and steady.

“He’s not,” you interceeded. Sirius was a flirt, it was hard to believe him sometimes, but for you, who had been with him for a while, it was easy to see the shine in his eyes when he saw Remus, it wasn’t there when he saw other men. You walked over to Sirius and took hold of his arm, laying your head gently on his shoulder and allowing your entire front to be exposed to Remus. “The question is, Remus, do you like us back?”

Remus’ breath was caught in his throat, he wasn’t sure what to respond, could he even?

“And what does that mean?”

You shot Sirius a glance, there was a silent understanding between the two of you, a small nod from Sirius, and you walked closer to Remus, “It means we like hanging out with you,” you said softly and took a step towards him, “It means we like having you around, It means we like it when your eyes brighten as you speak of a new book you love and it means we love the way your hair falls on your face when you forget your umbrella and you borrow one of ours.” You were dangerously close to him now, “It means we like it when you stand close to us, it means we would like to touch you,” you placed a hand on his leg, and traced from his knee to the thick of his muscle, and left it there while making soft circles with your thumb.

“It means when we invited you to model for us we were being selfish, we wanted to have more of you than we normally did,” Sirius said, also walking closer, “It means I specifically had to wear bigger pants because I knew the moment I saw you naked along with her, my mind would roam, and take me back to my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” Remus asked as he gulped, gaze darting between your hand on his leg and Sirius approaching both of you.

“Our dreams,” you interceeded, having him turn back to look at your face. “The question is, Remus–“ You grabbed onto the basket and started to drag it away from him. “Do you want us? Or is this just a natural reaction?” you asked, nodding back to his hard cock, trying not to lick your lips as you did.

Sirius still hadn’t touched Remus, but he was standing so close he’d only have to lean in to kiss the boy’s neck. “I–“ Remus hesitated, and looked at Sirius, trying to find confirmation. He could barely believe what was going on, perhaps he had fallen asleep on your shoulder and this was just a figment of his eager imagination.

Sirius smiled and nodded down. His pants were big, but not big enough to hide the tent that had formed in his pants. Remus swallowed again. By now you had already discarded the basket of fruit, a couple of them rolling out and scattering on the floor with a loud thud. None of the three seemed to hear it, all of your gazes were firmly set on each other.

“It is real, Remus,” you said and leaned close enough to kiss his neck near the spot Sirius had kissed initially. You had wanted to do that while Sirius was sketching the two of you, and you took the chance to finally do it. Still, neither you nor Sirius had touched Remus’ cock, you wanted him to say yes before you did something irreparable. But unlike Sirius, you didn’t leave your kiss as a small innocent one, instead, you opened your mouth to his skin and started licking and sucking lightly.

A strangled moan escaped Remus’ lips. and you smiled, continuing to kiss him in the same way, eager to hear the sound again.

“Should we take that as a yes?” Sirius asked, voice raspy and low from how turned on he was at the sight of the two of you.

Remus let out a soft scoff, and then he pulled you from his neck, he hated the disappointed glance you had as he held your face in between his hands. Your eyes were blown with lust and your lips were wet from the kiss.

You swallowed, ready to pull apart but Remus dragged your head towards his and leaned in just enough to plant a desperate kiss on your lips. You were surprised at first but quickly melted into him, moaning as he dragged his demanding tongue over your lips, which only fueled him further, he wanted to hear those sounds, he wanted to hear the both of you make those sounds over and over again until he was deafened by them.

“Yes,” he whispered as he pulled apart, panting for air and dropping smaller kisses around your face, “bloody hell yes!” he insisted.

Sirius leaned in, and whispered on Moony’s ear, “Should have told us earlier.” He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, but quickly moved down to kiss the boys jaw, “We’ve been dreaming about you for months.”

“Imagine my surprise when Sirius woke me up, panting your name,” you said, “I thought it was a nightmare until I felt how hard he was.”

Remus sighed and leaned his head on your shoulder as Sirius continued to kiss him, you took that as an opportunity to place your hand on his back again, allowing your fingers to feel and touch every single part of him that you hadn’t been able to touch earlier, and that you found absolutely stunning.

Another moan escaped Remus’ mouth when he felt your hand on his back, and Sirius smiled, the wicked smile of his and he pulled apart from his neck and easily sat on the table before moving behind Remus in a kneeling position, taking both of his shoulder and pulling him back from the hunch he’d been on. The sight of both boys almost set you on fire, Sirius noticed, he noticed almost everything.

“Moony, love,” he said as he leaned into the boy’s neck and allowed his hand to softly massage Remus’ back muscles, “Isn’t she stunning?”

You threw Sirius an inquisitive look and he just winked, he seemed to always know what to do.

“She is,” Remus breathed, eyes hooded as he allowed Sirius to touch him, clearly lost on him.

Sirius smiled, “I want you to touch her,” he said with a smirk, “touch her like you wanted to touch her when I was drawing the two of you behind the easel. I saw you looking at her, I saw the way your hands fought to stay in place.”

“Sirius,” Remus warned.

But Sirirus’ smirk only grew wider, he knew his words were sending both you and Remus into a state of absolute frenzy, all he’d have to do was push you into each other, “Touch her, I know she wants it as much as you do.”

Remus was hesitant, but he placed his hand on your shoulder and dragged you closer to the two of them in a soft pull. You looked up at him and smiled, squaring your shoulders and allowing him to see your almost throbbing nipples, desperate to be touched, and to be held by either of the two.

He was slow and hesitant, allowing his hand to fall from your shoulder to your arms, and then to your waist, and to the small of your back. Sirius placed a soft kiss just over Remus’ ear and then whispered, “Touch her, Remus, touch the place you’ve wanted to touch since you saw that little black bra of hers that makes me lose my mind.”

Remus breathed, he remembered the little piece perfectly, he allowed his hand to drag up, and let his thumb rest right under your breast, feeling the soft bounce of it and gently rubbing underneath, an innocent touch, almost a graze, nothing in comparison to the way Sirius would sometimes grab at them, and yet, it was just making you wetter. “Remus,” you whined as you leaned your head on his free shoulder. That seemed to be the fuel he needed to drag his hand even further up and allow his thumb to brush against your nipple. You clenched against nothing as he did, and moaned. He had a small scar tracing just around his thumb, the feeling of textures against your skin dragging you to heaven.

Sirius smiled at your reactions and started to kiss his neck. Which had Remus’ head tilt back in pleasure. That’s when you leaned your hand down again, eager to feel him, you were gentle and decided to give him enough time to stop you if he wanted, but the slow massaging of your hand towards his cock was only making Remus grow harder, a small droplet of precum already coming from his tip. He hadn’t even dared to dream of such a moment, and here you were, making it happen. When your hand finally wrapped around him he let out a breathy moan, his hand on your breast tightening. You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“May I?” you asked softly.

“Please,” he managed to say, Sirius chuckled at his neediness but Remus was quicker and pulled on his hair to drag him to his mouth. The longer-haired boy was surprised at first but quickly smirked into Remus’ demanding kiss, swallowing all the moans that would leave him as you slowly brushed your fingers over his cock. First, tracing a thin line from the bottom to the top, right over the pulsing vein. And then you wrapped your hand around him, firm but gentle, and rubbed the tip with your thumb.

Sirius pulled from the kiss that Remus chased into just to let you hear his moans and whispered, “Do you hear that, love?” he said as he placed a hand on Remus’ neck to keep his desperate lips from crashing against his mouth again. “You’re turning him into an animal.”

“We are,” you responded and tightened your grip around him, starting only now to gently stroke. You got to hear another moan from Moony before Sirius returned to kiss him. You leaned your head on Remus’ shoulder again, that place proving to be one of your favourite sports of the night, and started to trace kisses up his neck. You could feel his reactions in the way he would sometimes squeeze your breasts a little harder, or when he moved his hand down your waist. “And he makes such lovely sounds, doesn’t he?”

Sirius hummed in return, not daring to tear his lips away from the kiss.

Then you reached Remus’ ear. “If only you knew how wet you’re making me,” you whispered, a sly, fox-like smile appearing on your lips. Sirius threw you a side glance in between kisses and raised one of his eyebrows at you.

“Show him then,” he said before going back to kiss Remus, but using one of his hands to place it on the boy’s waist. “Pull back a little, Moons.”

Remus did as told, giving you enough space to be able to climb into the table as well, both legs on either side of one of his, and then slowly you let yourself down onto him, sighting at the feeling of his muscles against your sex. Remus gave you an encouraging squeeze on the waist, and that was enough for you to start grinding yourself onto his leg. Somehow, you managed to maintain the strokes on his cock as you rubbed onto him.

“Do you feel that, love?” Sirius asked as he broke the kiss to have the two of them look at you. You had your eyes closed and were focused on both your hips and hand movements. You felt Remus’ cock twitch, but you didn’t know it had been because he was looking at you. “Do you feel how wet you’ve made her?”

Remus looked at his glistening leg as you slid down and then up again, firmly pressing yourself against him, even if it was hard with the position you were in. He flexed his muscles and he felt your hand tremble in his cock, “She’s so pretty, Pads. You get to see her like this all the time?”

Sirius chuckled and decided to kiss Remus’ neck, so they could both continue delighting at the sight of you riding his leg. Remus seemed hesitant at first, but he dragged his hand down to your waist and towards your leg. Clearly giving in to the temptation to touch.

“Go ahead, she likes it,” Sirius encouraged in a chuckle and Remus didn’t think twice. You stiffened when you felt his hand brush against you as you pushed yourself into him, now opening your eyes to figure out whose hand had been bold enough. You smirked when you realised who it had been.

“Still curious?” you asked and pushed yourself towards his hand again.

Remus didn’t speak, instead, he focused on brushing his fingers over your folds which had you sight in content. But Remus was slightly hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to touch you properly. When Sirius realised the lack of moans, he decided he’d help. He placed a quick kiss on Remus’ temple and then moved behind him again. Allowing one of his hands to rest on Moony’s neck and then using the other to trace his arm until he reached the hesitant hand still brushing against your sensitive spots.

“Like this,” he said as he took hold of his hand and started making his movements more determined. You moaned at the new, more purposeful touch, and Sirius’ smirk grew. “Slow and determined,” he instructed. Remus himself found your clit after that, and he gently pressed his finger over it, testing.

“Fuck do that again,” you managed to whisper as you leaned your head on his shoulder again, Sirius placed a soft comforting kiss on your temple, your hands on Remus’ cock becoming dumber as the pleasure consumed you.

Remus did as told, and you moved your hips towards his fingers almost instinctively. “Such a fast learner,” Sirius praised, and you’d swear you saw Remus inflate slightly at his words.

“Yeah, Moony!” you sighed, voice mellow, something in between words and a moan. “You’re amazing,” you added as you kissed his neck, chasing all the way to his mouth. The hand that Sirius used to teach him, had long forgotten its purpose and had somehow found its way to your breast, pinching and squeezing like he knew you loved. His lips glued to Moony’s neck in the meantime.

Moony pressed a tentative finger to your entrance, you smiled into the kiss, and pushed into him, he bit your lips as his finger dug inside you, “Fuck,” he whispered into your mouth, “so tight.” You clenched around him, as you pulled from the kiss and brushed the tip of his cock with your thumb, you were eager to hear another one of those melodic moans of his. And you did, reeling on the power he had given you before going back to kiss him.

“She is Moony, it’ll feel insane around your cock too, I promise,” Sirius whispered to his ear. If you had been thinking properly, you might have swatted him for assuming how things would end, but the idea of having Remus’ cock inside of you only made you wetter, your hips chasing his finger a little more desperate as you used it to chase your own pleasure.

Remus used his free hand to take yours from his cock and placed it on his shoulder since he knew that would help you be a little more steady, he missed your touch, but the moans he pulled from you were enough compensation. He went for another finger and you moaned at how much more full you felt. Remus had longer fingers than Sirius did, and the scars added a layer of textures that you had never felt before but that you could easily get used to.

His touch was much more curious and soft than Sirius’ had been the first time, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t aiding you into a state of absolute bliss. Sirius, ever the clever, figured out you were close in a second. He pulled Moony deeper into the table, pulling you along with him, took off his shirt and moved behind you. Both of his tights around yours, Moony’s in between. He pressed himself onto you allowing you to feel his warm and slightly sweaty skin. You could feel his boner pressing onto your ass which had you sight in pleasure.

“How’s that, my love,” he said. “Do you like having Moony’s hand all over you? His fingers inside?”

“Sirius,” you sighed. His hands were now on your hips, helping you ride Moony’s fingers with much more ease. Moony’s fingers got faster, and you could feel Sirius holding back from dry humping you from behind, his hips sometimes chasing against your ass, you had neglected him a little. “Like that,” you managed to whisper once Remus did a particular movement, a flick of his finger, and he instantly repeated it.

“She’s close Moony,” Sirius warmed as he felt you tense, he moved his hands on your body reassuringly, but in the way that he knew you loved, you tensed, tightening around Remus’ fingers, and then let out a long, and quiet moan. “There you go,” Sirius added softly as he brushed his fingers over your leg, both of them helping you ride down from your high. Eventually, Remus took his fingers from inside you and placed a reassuring hand on your leg. You closed your eyes, head still pressed onto his shoulder as you breathed in, Remus had always smelled delightful, but you’d swear he smelled even better today.

You then reached your hand down but Sirius beat you to it, “My turn,” he said as he pushed you closer to Remus and took a hold of his cock. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked Remus with a smile, knowing well his answer.

Remus gulped and shook his head, which had Sirius smile like a wolf and start playing around with his friend’s cock. He clearly knew what he was doing much better than you did since he had Remus panting and moaning a lot faster than you had. He also had you firmly pressed against Remus as he touched him, if you had wanted to –which you obviously didn’t– you wouldn’t be likely to get out in between the two. Still, you busied yourself with kissing Remus’ neck again, that spot that you seemed to be addicted to.

Remus sighed, and you started to brush your hands all over his body, moaning and grunting growing louder. Sirius felt his friend’s cock twitch in his hand and he knew he was close, so he stopped. Remus gave him a pleading look but he pulled his hand back completely and the you along with him. You didn’t realise what was going on until you saw Remus’ throbbing cock and confused look.

“Sirius!” you reprimanded. Remus seemed to be struggling to form proper words.

“He won’t get to fuck you if he comes into my hand,” Sirius responded then leaned his head into your shoulder and looked at Remus with a knowing pout. “Would you rather come into my hand than feel her tight little pussy around you, Moons?”

Remus scoffed. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting by getting sexually involved with Sirius Black, but he should have fucking expected this kind of behaviour.

Sirius smiled, “How about we help him cool down a little but keep him hard, darling?”

You leaned your head back onto Sirius, opening your legs a little for Remus to get a better view of your glistening sex. “What do you like, Remus?” You asked in the most innocent tone. As if you were asking about the taste of ice cream he preferred and not the kind of shit that turned him on.

But frankly, neither you nor Sirius would have to do anything special to turn him on, he already pretty much worshipped you. Remus was still at a loss of words, he stared at both of you, then down between your legs and then up at your faces again.

“Do you want me to eat her out?” Sirius asked as he tilted his head.

“Or would you rather see me blow him?”

“Cowgirl?”

“Doggie?”

Remus was sure that if you didn’t stop you, you might just list the entire kamasutra before he made a choice, “anything.”

You tsked and shook your head, “No, Moons, that’s not the deal,” you replied. “What do you want?”

Again, he saw you tense and relax between your legs as you asked him, and he didn’t miss the smirk that drew on your lips when he started. “I want” –he hesitated– “touch him.”

“Your wish is my command,” you said with a smirk and instantly turned to Sirius, making sure to have him spin around enough so that you wouldn’t have Remus just look at your back, although he would have been more than happy staring at the way your ass moved.

“Did you hear that, Pads?”

Sirius hummed in response as he helped you accommodate, you were now cradling him. You first went for a kiss, soft, but demanding, as you two kissed, you lowered one of your hands and gripped Sirius over his pants. He moaned into your mouth and you pulled back from the kiss, no matter how addictive his lips were, you wanted Remus to hear his precious moans as well.

Remus’ hands were itching to go back to his cock when he heard Sirius’ moan. He was too pretty, both of you were, he could still barely believe what was happening, but he sure loved every bit of it. “Help me get this off,” you said as you turned to Remus and pressed your hands onto Sirius’ belt.

He raised his eyebrows amused and you gave him a short wink. He did as told. Leaning in closer and unbuckling the belt before sliding it off Sirius who was a moaning mess since your hand was still on him. Once Remus managed to move the button off, you were quick to digg your hand in and Sirius raised his hips a little to take it off along with his boxers.

Remus’ cock twitched when he saw Sirius’ hard and proud. He wanted to touch it as much as he wanted to see you touch it, but he wasn’t sure Sirius would want him to touch it so instead he moved his desperate hand to the boy’s neck. You smiled at that and brushed yourself against him, passing his cock over your folds a few times to coat him with your wetness before gripping at him securely.

“Sto–p teasing,” Sirius managed to say, and you laughed, placing a soft kiss to his cheek before wrapping your hand around him and starting to stroke. Remus seemed fascinated by the way you moved your hand on Pads, like you knew exactly what he wanted when he moaned or moved his hips slightly to the side. At some point Sirius started to chase your hand with his hips as well but Remus placed his hand on his legs to keep him down. Sirius turned to the boy with a frown and Remus smirked.

“I said I wanted her to touch you, not for you to fuck her hand,” he replied in a low tone.

You giggled at the stifled moan that left Sirius’ lips when Moony said that, and continued with your strokes, turning your wrist so you had a bit more control and toying with the tip whenever your thumb got close enough to it.

“Close,” Sirius breathed and you smiled, looking at Moony with a small smirk before pulling back a little from both of them but still stroking. Then you pulled further down and Sirius almost came in your hands at the mere image of what you were about to do. You pressed a kiss to kiss your stomach, and gently lowered down, allowing your nipples to brush over his cock causing him to shudder.

You licked your lips before going down and pressing a soft and gentle kiss over his tip, you could feel the blood rushing and his cock twitching. You then pressed your tongue to him and Sirius let out a low, almost imperceptible groan. The first, soft splurt of his cum fell on the outside of your mouth before you wrapped your lips around him and sucked the rest of him dry. By the time you were done, Sirius was panting and gripping onto Remus’ leg as he attempted to catch a breath. You raised yourself back up to look at them both.

You opened your mouth to show you had yet to swallow it all and then turned to Remus, “Want a taste?”

Sirius was already sore, and yet when Moony nodded and pulled you in for a desperate kiss, he swore he felt himself twitch again. In a matter of seconds, you had climbed onto his lap, leaning into the kiss and only pulling apart to see his reaction, a line of spit still connected the two of you as smirked.

“Fuck,” Sirius said in a low moan at the sight.

“How was it?” you asked as you bit your lip.

Remus tilted his head and dragged your hips to his, “Is not over yet, is it?”

“I meant the taste,” you replied as you rolled your hips on his cock.

He licked his lips, and laid his head on your shoulder as he looked at Sirius. “Fucking delicious,” he said.

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “Bet,” you added before rolling your hips against his again. “Ready?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” you said, and then lifted yourself, brushing on his cock a couple of times before bringing your hand down to it, brushing his tip on you, making sure to brush your clit, and then slowly, sinking yourself onto him.

You breathed out as you did, getting used to his size, and he waited patiently for you to finish.

“You all right?” he asked softly.

You let out a breathy “Yeah.”

“Tell me when I can start moving.” You squeezed your walls around him. “Fuck–“

Sirius laughed from the side and placed a hand on Remus’ arm, “Did I not mention she has a tendency to do that? I almost came the first time she did it to me.”

You squeezed again and then started to move, slow and steady at first, Remus was a groaning mess again and it only fueled your resolve to continue moving and squeezing, eventually, his hips started thrusting up into yours and your movements seemed to synchronise.

“Touch her too,” Sirius suggested and Remus did as told, quickly bringing one the hands that rested on your waist to your clit. You started to roll your hips so you could increase the pressure and he helped by moving his finger closer.

“Is that good?”

“Fuck yes,” you responded.

You continued for a while, and you felt Remus get extremely close, if his moaning indicated anything but then he stopped thrusting into you and you slowed your pace with a questioning frown.

“Can…” he panted. “Can I try something?”

You nodded in return and Remus smiled, he pulled you up with his hands on your waist –his cock still inside you– and flipped you around, now your back was laying on Sirius’ chest and you could feel his semi-hard on your ass.

“Moony what are you–“ he started but was shut up by a kiss as he thrusted into you. Both the kiss and your asscheeks brushing onto him had Sirius harden even more as Remus thrust in and out of you.

“Touch her the way she likes,” he said to Sirius in between kisses and the other boy did exactly that, chasing in between the entanglement of bodies until he found your clit, tentatively, he brushed his hand down to feel where Remus and your body connected and Remus moaned at the feeling of Sirius’ hands on him again. “I said touch her,” he added with a sigh, “I want her to come again.”

Sirius smiled and pressed a short kiss to Remus’ lips. “Your wish is my command.”

Seconds later Sirius’ expert fingers were on you, brushing and circling your clit the way that made you brainless, your ass pressed onto his cock and Remus rutting into you quickly made you feel absolute bliss.

“I’m about to–“

“She as well,” Sirius said as he felt the way you moved on top of him.

Remus reeled at the thought and groaned out as he started to come, he tried to pull out but Sirius was quick to keep him in place. “She’s taking something,” he said simply, and that was enough for Remus to allow your walls to milk him. As he did, Sirius was fast with his hand and you were cumming on Remus’ cock, squeezing him even more as his pace started to slow down.

Sirius, who was already sore, came for the second time that night a little after, surprising you since you were not expecting to feel the sticky wetness against your ass.

Remus felt it too, since part of it spluttered all the way to his legs and he looked at Sirius with a mildly impressed stare.

“You two are fucking hot,” he said, unapologetically. Remus pushed into you a couple more times and then he allowed his weight to fall on both of you.

“Too heavy?” he managed to ask.

“No,” you said as you accommodated your head next to Sirius’ and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. He sighed in contentment.

Eventually, Remus drew himself out of you and then pulled back from his position on top and instead laid with his back against the table. He bit his lip, “I guess you’ll have to find another model.”

“No way in hell we’re ever gonna look for another model,” you said with a laugh, also rolling from Sirius and letting yourself fall right in between the two of them, “Moony’s just perfect, isn’t he?”

“Thought you couldn’t paint someone you’d fucked…” he breathed.

Sirius laughed, “Well, they don’t have to know we’re a thing…”

Remus felt so many emotions at once, you were a thing, but also Sirius doesn't want people to know.

“…until after we’ve handed in the paintings, and gotten our grades,” he added with a cheeky smile.

“Besides, the sun is gone,” you added. “We’ll have to come back another day.”

“Didn’t you mention a sunlamp or something?” Remus asked.

“We’ll have to come another day,” you repeated with a smirk. And Remus gave you an impressed look.

“Do you guys have anything to do?” Sirius asked.

You shook your head and Remus said a quick “No.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I think Prongs is sleeping over at Reggie’s.”

“Is he now?” Remus questioned.

“I thought we could have a sleepover of our own.”

You scoffed a laugh, of sleep, it wouldn’t have much.

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 9 ] || [ Chapter 11 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.7K~ Tags: NO SMUT, simon is a flirt, first kiss, simon has a PIERCING, simon needed to be held okay? Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost HAS MADE THE MOVE.

Chapter 10: SIMON?!

You had entered the pub looking for someone who you didn’t know. Unlike with John, you didn’t even have a picture of Simon’s face to go off of.

Not that you had needed one. Going inside and scanning the room, you immediately spotted a tall, blond man with a black mask holding a tumbler of whiskey. He was leaning against a back wall by the dartboard, one foot propped up on the wall behind him.

Tall, blond, and a fan of Bourbon. Check, check and check.

You had made your way over almost immediately, being greeted with a squinting of his eyes and a dipping of his head off to the side.

“You look good.” He had said before raising a finger in the air and spinning it, beckoning you to give a little spin. Which you did.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You had retorted as he pulled away from the wall and guided you to the bar, one hand on your shoulder, so he could pay you for the drink, as you had so salaciously demanded on Tinder.

After that, he took you outside, to a table in the corner of the outdoor area of the pub. He parked himself on a lone armchair, legs spread and his position relaxed, spine curled ever so slightly, to make him take up less space. As if that’s somehow possible.

Then, Simon tapped his palm on his lap, beckoning you to sit, which you did without question. His hand circled around your waist, pulling your back to press against his chest.

He felt you press your ass back against his bulge, which earned you a dark rumble of a chuckle right into your ear. “Not as shy as I expected you’d be.” He had whispered.

“You’re the one who made me sit on your lap.” You had retorted as you looked back at him, only to get your head swiveled forward once more by his firm hand on your jaw.

“Eyes forward.” He had demanded. “I wanna drink in peace.” He had told you. He was bossy, but not exactly in a bad way.

“I guess that answers my question.” You had told him as you sipped from your own glass. Behind you, Simon did the same. You could hear the ice clinking against the glass as he dipped the tumbler back to sip from.

“Which one?” He had asked after a wet swallow of his drink and smacking his lips lightly.

“If you were going to wear the mask.” You had answered.

“It’s for your own benefit.” He had retorted.

“How’s that?” You had asked, daring to turn back to look at him, only to be stopped by his firm hand on your jaw, correcting your gaze away again, wordlessly.

“I’m not exactly a pretty sight under this.” He had told you. “Would rather not scare you off.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You had retorted. “And I doubt you could scare me off.” You added. “Though…” You had trailed off, thinking for a moment. “I won’t deny that if you’re like… super disfigured I might have a bit of a reaction to it at first.” You had told him sincerely.

That had earned you another rumble of a laugh behind you as he leaned in, pressing his chest a bit more against your back.

“Tell you what.” He had said softly in your ear. “I’ll let you have a glimpse soon enough, if the night ends up going the way I wish for it to.”

After a few hours getting to know each other, in which Simon kept up his promise of being honest within reason, you ended up at a McDonald’s parking lot, eating greasy food in the front seat and talking some more about all sorts of things.

You told him about your ex, about your family, about work, about your current obsessions in a certain TV show, a certain videogame, a certain actor… And he returned with his own. Who would’ve thought that this mysterious, sort of strange, guy would like Pedro Pascal?

He made you laugh, his sense of humour extremely morbid and sarcastic and his deliveries deadpan, but just smart enough to draw laughter out of you… And whenever you retorted with a smartass comment of your own, you swore you saw him smiling… Even if the mask was in the way, the corners of his eyes crinkled.

And you made sure to dutifully look away when he loosened his neck gaiter at the bottom, in order to stick fries and nuggets and his drink straw under it…

At midnight, you found yourself being dropped off at home… And just like it happened with John, you found yourself not quite wanting the night to end…

So you invited him upstairs.

It’s 5 A.M. when you find yourself waking up in his arms, stirring awake ever so slightly by his movement.

The sun is starting to rise, lighting the room ever so slightly, and making it so you can kind of see a few shadows of your furniture around the room.

Bleary-eyed and groggy, you rub your eyelids, finding Simon’s silhouette still next to you and looking at you.

“You alright?” You ask him softly, receiving a soft ‘Mhm’ in return. You pull yourself away from his arms, leaning up on one of your elbows to look at him.

“Had fun last night.” He tells you as he stretches a bit. “Should probably be heading back to base in a minute, though.”

Your bare leg rubbed lightly against his thigh which was still clad in denim, a consequence of the two of you having had some sort of… sleepover. That’s the best way of putting it.

“I’m glad. I had fun too… Weirdly enough.” You reply as you start to sit up in bed as well. “Never did think I’d end up getting… laid but… not. ‘Laid together in bed’, I guess?” You joke a bit, still too groggy to really make a joke.

“Can just call it cuddling.” He replies as he pulls the covers back a bit in order to sit up and turns on your bedside table lamp, lighting the room in a warm-toned orange-y light and casting shadows further toward the door and the hall.

He still has that neck gaiter of his on over his features, or… maybe he took it off and put it back on? You can’t be sure, you were asleep.

After coming home, you talked some more, played Mario Kart on your switch, watched a horror movie, during which he complained way too much about the realism of the blood splatter and the injuries… And then you kind of… cuddled to sleep.

“I think we both needed this.” You tell him as he nods his head. “Haven’t gotten a good cuddle in… well, ages… And you’re surprisingly comfortable.” You add.

“Definitely.” He tells you, his eyes squinting a bit again. “I… like you.” He admits.

“I… Thank you?” You reply as you sit up in bed next to him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That felt wrong to say aloud. Felt a little bit like a little boy in the playground.” He admits and chuckles at himself.

“Yeah… Well… I like you too.” You reply and chuckle as well at how silly it feels to say it so openly.

“Of course you do.” Simon retorts, his tone still flat and deadpan even as he spoke himself up and acted cocky.

“Oh piss off, Simon… It’s too early to deal with your shit right now.” You grumble and nudge at him with your elbow.

“Oh, c’mon… You dealt with it all night last night.” He tells you as he leans over, getting his face close to yours, the neck gaiter just softly grazing against your shoulder.

“Shut up.” You reply, a smirk on your lips. His eyes crinkle into a smile as well, which makes your smirk soften into a little smile.

You gently grab his face with his hand which makes his eyes widen and, as a reflex, he grabs your wrist and stops you from pulling down/up his untucked neck gaiter and show you his face.

This had happened a couple times last night. One of which was you trying to tuck a corner of his mask into his neck had earned you a grab from him, that only relaxed when you explained your intentions.

He’s a deeply mistrusting person, you’ve noticed… And you are strangely intrigued by it.

“Relax.” You tell him. “I’m not going to pull it off.” You assure him once more, which makes him relax.

Instead, you lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, right on the edge where the mask meets his cheek, your lips softly brushing the stitching of the top of the gaiter.

His breath hitches and his eyes close for a moment, seemingly basking in the warmth of your little kiss.

As you pull back, his eyes snap open again and he rushes forward, grabbing your whole jaw with his large, rough hand before pulling your whole face toward him once more.

His other hand moves the gaiter up just enough to capture your mouth in his, but not enough to earn you a glimpse of his features.

His mouth is warm, his lips chapped and dry to shit, and his tongue is… Is that a piercing? Your eyes double in size when your tongue rubs against the cold metal nubs of his barbell piecing.

Simon’s eyes are open too, the corners crinkled in amusement at your shocked reaction. He keeps his grip on your jaw as your eyes slowly fall closed, giving into the kiss.

It’s completely different compared to John’s kisses, or Ethan’s back when you were together. Simon kisses like he wants to take your breath away.

After a moment, he pulls back, the neck gaiter quickly falls back down to cover his face and when your eyes open, it’s as if nothing happened. Simon is up on his feet, putting on his boots and leather jacket.

“We should do this again.” Simon tells you. “I’ll text you.” He adds and winks at you before turning and walking out of your room.

After a moment, you hear the front door of your apartment close and there you are, left sitting in bed, blinking away the shock.

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baeshijima · 1 year

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— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

You soon found out his name: Alhaitham. The boy in the matching Haravatat beret, the one who gave you a simple nod, and the one who sat in front of you in class.

As far as first impressions went, he was in your good books! Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for your classmates or your professor. He was aloof and indifferent to your peers, sometimes riling them up with his blunt remarks or blatantly ignoring their presence. As for the professor’s apparent dislike, it was most likely due to him rarely attending class after the first week or so (something about self-study being a better use of his time, if you recalled correctly).

But even so, through all the harsh whispers and scorn you saw surround him, no one could deny his academic prowess. How could they when the scores and praise spoke for itself?

In all honesty, you don’t remember when or how Alhaitham accepted your presence amongst others. It took you a while, sure, but he eventually began taking time out of his own to converse with you. Passing conversations soon turned to greeting each other a good morning and bidding the other a farewell, which then turned to late night study sessions in the House of Daena, which then became a regular hangout spot for you both, and so on and so forth.

Oddly enough, knowing you were the only one he would tolerate was somehow rewarding. While he paid no heed to the world around him and moved at his own tempo, you’d always find him waiting for you up ahead.

In that sense, you were comforted by the idea he would be willing to wait for you — and, undoubtedly, you would wait for him too.

Fast forward a few years and you’re now stuck in a long-term unrequited love for the scribe of the Akademiya.

Lovely.

You’ve had a lot to reflect on these past few years (most of which you’d rather not recall), but one thing seemingly remains stagnant; you love Alhaitham. That’s been something you have long-since accepted, and something you’re sure the entirety of Sumeru City are aware of by now.

While you definitely weren’t one to shy away from your (blatantly obvious) feelings, it doesn’t mean you flaunted your love at every opportunity presented. In fact, you were pretty happy with how things are now!

But, well, you only live once, as they say. And, by process of elimination, that just means you should act on your feelings so that you can either finally move on, or land yourself the most eligible bachelor in Teyvat!

(No one other than yourself thinks that, but hey! One is better than none!)

And so that was the origin story for your journey — Operation: “Get Alhaitham to Fall In Love With Me” was then set into motion!

Step 1: Be upfront with your feelings!

Confess to Alhaitham.

You can do that.

All you have to do is strut up to Alhaitham, ask him to hear you out for a moment, (metaphorically) spill your heart out to the man of your dreams, and anticipate a response! A positive one, preferably.

Easy enough, right?

Well, that’s what it should be. So why is it that you’re now pacing back and forth in front of his office door, mentally rehearsing your pre-written confession you spent too many sleepless nights redrafting until you were somewhat satisfied?

A severe oversight on your part, that’s what.

Hm, maybe I should wait another day. The timing doesn’t feel quite right, and the weather is a bit gloomy for a confession. Yeah, maybe I can just head back and pretend I wasn’t even here—

“I can hear you pacing back and forth even with my earpieces on.”

At the familiar, low intonation, you freeze. Body stiff, you slowly turn your head to the man leaning cross-armed against the door frame, an unimpressed look greeting you.

Crap. Was I really that loud...?

With one brow raised and a slight frown tugging his lips, he gives a once-over at your haggard appearance. It doesn’t take long for his expression to morph into one of concern as he takes a step away from the door frame and closer to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes honed in on yours; or more specifically, the area under your eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for a decade.”

It sure feels much longer than that...

“I’m alright. I think. Wait. That’s not important right now,” you stammer, head shaking to regain your resolve. Ignoring the judgemental look cast upon you, you lift your head to meet his gaze, fists clenching in an effort to disperse your nerves. “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?”

And with a deep breath and eyes squeezed shut, you blurt out, “I think you’re really good-looking! I really like you, too! Like, a lot! And you have super pretty eyes! And really fluffy hair! And you’re really smart, though you can be a bit of a pain... And... And you have a nice physique!”

Silence.

Under the weight of his blank stare and the impending doom known as ‘silence’, it takes a drawn out second for a horrified gasp to escape you. Belatedly, you realise your absolute abomination of a screw-up — an insatiable urge for the ground to swallow you whole consumes all remaining sense of rationale (which isn’t all that much, really).

Aaaaaaahhhh I went completely off script!!

Perhaps sensing your next move, Alhaitham snaps out of his stupor and begins reaching out for you. “Wait—”

“Ha-Have a good night!”

And then you’re sprinting off into who knows where, leaving Alhaitham stranded at his office doorway with an arm outstretched in your fading direction and a dumbfounded expression settled on his features.

Disgruntled, he rubs the bridge of his nose, the heat washing over him doing little to help reorganise his thoughts. “It’s eight in the morning, not eight in the evening...”

(Alhaitham’s never been more grateful for his soundproof earpieces. Not only does it tune out the outside world at his beck and call, but it also prevents you from seeing the tips of his ears stained a scarlet hue; this being one time out of the many.)

Mission Status: Success...?

Step 2: Give him flowers! A bouquet never hurt anyone!

“Tighnari!”

At the call of his name, Tighnari’s ears flick and perk up. In a swift movement, he turns his head to witness you dashing towards him with a grin, hands waving manically in the air.

“How many times have I told you not to run?” he tuts, head shaking in exasperation. But even with his nagging, you can still detect the smile seizing his lips from a mile away as he begins approaching to meet you halfway.

When you come to a stop in front of him, you merely beam. “Not enough times!”

“Clearly.”

“Anyway,” you begin, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat, have you prepared what I asked for?”

He scoffs at your request, “Of course. Just who do you take me for?”

“The bestest, most reliable friend ever, of course!”

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone switch to a deadpan so quickly before.

“Buttering up to me only goes so far, y’know.”

Amidst your grumbles and his chuckles, he leads you back to his house in Gandharva Ville. You’ve always enjoyed the Forest Watcher’s presence, and you’re glad he’s happier now compared to his time in the Akademiya.

The trek back was filled with your usual back-and-forth, lively chatter making its way up and filling the air.

(“Oh, is that a new essential oil?”

“So you’ve noticed. I see your sense of smell is evolving.”

“Well, it’s an entirely different scent from the last one, and I think I’d have to be a little nose-blind to not notice.”)

When you make it back to his abode, you find a bouquet already neatly wrapped up and propped against the wall. A sweet, calm aroma wades through the air, becoming more potent the closer you get.

Simply put, it’s perfect.

With this, I can move on from my previous embarrassment!

“Thank you again, Tighnari. I owe you one. Oh,” you gasp upon remembering something, “and be sure to send my regards to Collei.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds with a smile and a nod to your request before bidding you farewell. “Be careful on your way back! Be mindful of your step and any stray roots in the ground. Wouldn’t want you to trip and tumble down, after all.”

“I thought we were past that already...”

“What?!”

“Apologies,” the scholar in front of you replies, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Scribe Alhaitham left earlier in the day to explore some ancient runes in the desert...”

You’re pretty sure your heart just cracked.

“It can’t be...” you murmur. The bouquet in your hand feels heavy, just like your heart.

The scholar panics at your apparent dejection, wracking his brain in an attempt to rectify the predicament at hand. “When he comes back, I could tell him you were looking for him?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... see him when I see him...”

You manage a small smile at his efforts, but the scholar only spirals into further panic when you trudge away with a gloomy aura hanging above.

I’m sorry, Tighnari. I’ve failed you and your botany skills...

Mission Status: Fail...

Step 3: Show him you can be dependable!

It’s a good day.

The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a single cloud up in the sky!

Yeah, it’s a good day if you ignore the stacks of paperwork piled up on your desk.

Dejectedly, you sigh and slump against the wood. You can already feel the forthcoming headache from just a single glance at the blurred words. Ideally, you wish everything could just be signed and done with at the mere thought. Realistically, you know that’s next to impossible.

...Maybe putting off your work and procrastinating wasn’t the smartest of decisions but, well, it’s too late now! Guess you’ll just have to suck it up and pull a couple all-nighters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately.

“Well,” you sigh to yourself, stretching your arms overhead, “good luck to me, I guess...”

(Distantly, you hear Alhaitham’s voice in the back of your mind reprimand you for leaving your work to later, but you swat the thoughts away without missing a beat and get started on the first pile.)

“[...me].”

“[Nam...].”

“[Name]!”

You gasp, shooting up from your slouched position. Though you come to regret the action when a sharp pang pierces through your conscience, eliciting a harsh wince to leave you. Immediately you fall forward and clutch your head, another pair of hands grasping your shoulders to steady you.

Huh...?

“Are you alright?” A cold hand makes contact along the expanse of your forehead and you subconsciously lean into the touch. “You’re burning up... When was the last time you rested?”

At the prompt, you strain your eyes to the left. Eyes squinting, you can barely make out a blurry figure, but the mesh of white, purple, red, and tan has you murmuring his name, “Cyno...?”

“Yes, it’s me.” His image wavers, and you can no longer distinguish his features. “You... last slept... hey... [...me]!”

His voice bleeds into white noise — drowned out by the world tipping on its axis before eventually it, too, is consumed by darkness.

Groaning through the overbearing warmth and fragmented light against your closed eyes, you breathe out a sigh and shuffle in place, trying to find a comfortable spot. Burrowing further into the duvet you feel yourself relaxing.

A musky scent surrounds you; one that’s warm and familiar, tinged with an aroma of worn pages and nature. The blends are few and far between, and yet they harmonize perfectly — its calming undertones help further relax you.

In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting. But just what is it...

Your eyes snap open, heart lurching.

“Ah! The paperwork!”

In the midst of your frantic actions, a weight falls off your shoulders and tumbles onto your lap. Mouth agape and breathing erratic you look down, only to blink at the familiar item.

Alhaitham’s cape...?

“Lie down.”

Your shoulders jump when a voice comes from your left. Before you have time to protest, you feel yourself gently pushed back into bed, the covers lifted back up to your chin and Alhaitham’s cape draped on top once more. Though your movements are slightly restricted, you can still just about turn your head.

Alhaitham’s silhouette against the sunrise is hunched in your chair; elbows on knees, hands wrung together, and gaze focused on the ground. When your sight clears up, you notice his hair looks more dishevelled than usual.

You continue watching him as he heaves a light sigh and reaches over to his side. His hands wring a small cloth, water seeping out as his knuckles turn white from the pressure exerted. When he turns to you, the newly dampened cloth laid across your forehead, he doesn’t make eye contact. No, it’s more like he’s avoiding looking at you in general.

An awkward cough escapes you and he flinches ever so slightly at the sound. “How long have I been out for?”

“Two days.”

“I see,” you murmur. “Ah. Where’s Cyno? It’s kinda blurry, but the last I remember is him waking me up.”

“He’s busy.”

“Oh... Okay.”

A suffocating silence lapses over you after his blunt responses. It’s been a while since he’s spoken like this to you, so you’d be a bit of an idiot to not realise he’s mad. As for the reason why... Well, you’d rather not acknowledge the cause, even if you have a feeling he’ll bring it up sooner or later.

“[Name],” Alhaitham calls, voice low and even.

Averting you gaze, however hard you may wish for it, doesn’t help you avoid the inevitable confrontation set in stone. (That still doesn’t stop you from subtly lifting up the covers.)

His voice comes out weak and fuzzy against the ringing in your ears. “Why... didn’t you say anything? That you were ill? Were you going to just sit through it and not say a single word at all? Did you plan on pulling all-nighters again, even when you were on the verge of collapsing? What do you think would’ve happened if I didn’t overhear some scholars talking about how you fainted and had to be carried by the General Mahamatra?”

If this were you any other day, you’re sure you would’ve been over the moon at the sight of Alhaitham being the first thing you see upon waking up — taking care of and worrying over you on top of that. But alas, you’re sick and the string of questions he directs towards you does nothing but irritate you, the dull ache that previously lingered like white noise now blaringly clear.

“I don’t know. I guess I just—” you wince at the pain shooting through your head, “—I just thought there was no point so long as I get it done quickly then rest after. It was my fault I left it till recently.”

“Besides,” you add in a whisper, straining your eyes in an effort to stay awake, “you don’t like incompetent people, and I... didn’t want you to think that of me...”

“...”

It was quick.

One moment you felt warm and feverish, but now you feel warm and feverish and your forehead stings.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he retorts nonchalantly.

You’re dumbstruck, for a lack of better words. Through widened, bleary eyes you can just about register his unreadable expression, lips taught and brows furrowed slightly in your direction. A weak “What...?” slips through your lips, hoarse and broken.

For some reason, Alhaitham’s expression morphs. One of his hands tightens around yours (when did that get there...?) while the other reaches over to wring out a newly dampened cloth. He stays quiet, gaze avoiding yours as he focuses on wiping away the sweat clinging to your face while being mindful of the cloth already on your forehead.

“If you’re struggling, tell me. Don’t keep these things to yourself. And don’t...” he trails off with a grimace, and you barely catch sight of his lower lip tugged back by his teeth before it’s overshadowed by his hair. “Don’t ever think of yourself as incompetent again. You’re far from it.”

Oh...

Oh.

Out of all the things Alhaitham could have possibly said, you weren’t anticipating assurance and comfort.

“I... Uh... Hm. Okay,” you bumble like the fool you are, thoughts incoherent at the unexpectedly caring words. The only form of acknowledgement you received was him gently patting your hand; if you had the energy to squint, you could probably detect a teeny smile teetering the corners of his lips, but that could also be your half-delirious brain making stuff up like usual.

A cool sensation lands on your forehead, regulating the overwhelming heat permeating through your body. The sudden weight forces your eyes to close for a brief second and, upon opening them again, you find Alhaitham rummaging through his belt pouch. When he sits upright again, your attention is drawn to the object resting on his lap.

A... book?

“I’ll read to you,” he announces, probably noticing your blatant stare at the hardback cover now in his hand. He’s still avoiding your gaze, more interested in the book’s cover as his thumb traces over its surface.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, for the first time since you awoke, Alhaitham looks at you.

“It’s the new light novel from that author you like.”

“Huh? You mean...“ you trail off, eyes darting to take a closer look at the illustrated cover. A gasp soon escapes you after confirming it is, in fact, exactly what he said. “No way! You can’t even get this version unless you pre-ordered it months in advance! Wait, did you...?”

Another silence settles in your room. He averts his gaze to the side again, lips pursing as you send an accusatory stare his way, but shifts his sights back to you just as quickly.

“Enough talking, more resting.”

“But—”

“I’m opening the novel now.”

Despite your huff and low grumbles, you settle back in your bed and tug the duvet up to your chin. You listen to his low, comforting voice narrate the first couple pages, a familiar warmth vastly different to this feverish one washing over you. Your nose makes contact with the fabric of his cape and his scent surrounds you, coaxing your ailed body into a much-needed slumber.

Eyelids heavy, you use your last remaining strength to mumble your gratitude before drifting off, a content smile resting on your lips.

“Thank you, Haitham...”

Alhaitham’s breath hitches, eyes widening and the novel in his hand nearly slips from his grasp. His head snaps up to stare at you, only to find you already fast asleep with a few soft snores escaping you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a moment to process the sleep-induced words you’d uttered; namely the nickname you addressed him with.

Right. [Name] was merely influenced by the sickness and drowsiness. Don’t read too much into it.

Even after confirming that to himself, he continues to read the novel aloud to your unconscious self, replenishing the cloth at frequent intervals and staying by your side.

Even after confirming that to himself, Alhaitham finds himself unable to extinguish the heat that persistently clings to his skin — neither does the soft smile nor the flutter stirring in his stomach seem to have any intention of leaving; even more so at the sight of you burrowing into his cape.

Mission Status: Failed successfully!

Step 4: The fastest way to one’s heart is through their stomach! (Read: give them food.)

A lot has happened over the past couple weeks. Other than Azar and his minions being overthrown and Lesser Lord Kusanali being freed from solitary confinement by a few of your friends, Alhaitham is now the Acting Grand Sage!

Well, you only heard about this recent development from Cyno and Tighnari after returning from an expedition to decode some ancient runes in the desert. Not the welcome back you were expecting, but a welcome back nonetheless!

And upon confronting Alhaitham about his involvement in the rebellion you’d heard so much of (Cyno sure had a blast detailing his annoyance and praise over your last Genius Invokation TCG match), he merely heaved an exasperated sigh before adamantly explaining to you it wasn’t his intention to have his current position, but “Since everyone is so incompetent, I’m the only capable person who can take charge.”.

(His words, not yours.)

In all honesty, it almost feels like he’s still the scribe with how often you see him — as though nothing has changed and his duties are still the same. Though the same can’t be said with the other scholars and researchers, you suppose.

Recently, you’ve had more researchers come up and ask you to deliver papers to Alhaitham in their stead. Their reason? Well, it typically fell under one of two categories; “The Acting Grand Sage never spares us the time of day outside his work hours, and you’re our only hope...” or, “He wouldn’t turn you away or avoid you since he likes you so much.”

Maybe it’s because of the massive ego boost you’d gotten from their comments, but you now find yourself lugging a stack of papers that need to be looked over and signed, along with the freshly boxed up meal you bought earlier dangling from your other hand.

The journey back to his new office isn’t all that bad, just... a little awkward. You’re pretty sure the librarian hasn’t seen someone come and go from the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office-slash-elevator as frequently as you do, but hey! That just means you’re pretty special!

(For what it’s worth, you do kinda wish they had elevator music. Talking and humming to yourself can only do so much.)

Upon reaching the top floor and stepping off the platform, you’re greeted with the sight of Alhaitham leaning back and reading another one of his books. Ah, I feel my heart getting lighter at the sight.

“I’ve returned with food, Grand Sage!” you call out with a grin, waving your hand which carries the bag.

“Acting Grand Sage.”

“I’ve returned with food, Acting Grand Sage!”

A deadpan stare is all you receive at your quip, a sigh soon escaping him. “Why are you even addressing me with that title? Surely just saying my name is more efficient.”

“Because it’s fun, of course!” you merely laugh out in response.

A frown tugs his lips at that, eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing. He beckons you over with swift eye contact, and the chair opposite to where he’s sat is pushed back with his foot.

Wow. What a gentleman.

Plopping yourself down on the chair with an audible “Oof!”, you place the newly bought meal onto his desk. A mouth-watering scent wafts in the space between you, and you find yourself holding back a gulp at the delectable aroma. You quickly divvy up the food between you before glancing around the room.

As if reading your thoughts, Alhaitham nonchalantly says, “If you’re looking for my assistant, he’s not here.”

“Oh?” you ask between delightful mouthfuls. Swallowing down your food, you continue. “Where is he now? There should be plenty for his share too since I bought a lot this time around — or, well, I guess Lambad insisted I took more...”

There’s a small beat of silence after your words, though you barely register that fact when he speaks up again.

“No need. I’m feeling hungrier than usual, so I doubt there will be any leftovers to share.”

“Huh?” It takes you a couple seconds and a raised brow from Alhaitham for his words to register. When it does, however, you find yourself beyond ecstatic. “Oh! Of course, eat as much as you want! You need the energy for your Grand Sage duties, after all.”

“Acting Grand Sage duties.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

The rest of your lunch is spent in idle chatter and shared food. When you put more food on his side, he pushed his drink towards you or gave you more of your favourite bits.

(For someone who claimed to be really hungry, he sure was giving you a lot of food...)

Leaning back with a hefty sigh, you pat your stomach in content. Ah, Lambad never fails me, you think to yourself. Now that you’re done with your mini lunch date, it’s probably about time you head back and get your work for the day done. Your once content sigh now turns dreary, the energy you had barely seconds ago already dissipating.

Unbeknown to you, the corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirked up at your obvious dejection. Fist on cheek, he stares fondly at your ever-changing expressions; the familiarity of such a sight bringing him more comfort than he would ever let on. Eyes sweeping across the desk, his mood sours when spotting a stack of papers that wasn’t there before your arrival.

“Did those scholars bother you to run errands for them again?”

“Ah, this?” you drawl, head tilting slightly to view the contents. A low giggle escapes you when remembering the reason you originally brought it. “It’s because they can never find you.”

A huff escapes him at that comment. “Then they should have come during my work hours.”

“Apparently you’re never here when they come looking for you.”

“And? It’s not my problem they simply have bad timing.”

You all but shake your head at his antics, an amused smile blooming on your lips. Taking a quick glance at the time, you startle. Oh boy, where did the time go? Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Panic settles in you when the stack of papers needing to be sorted and signed appears in your mind. Scrambling up from your seat you spew out hasty apologies, too absorbed in your panic to notice the startled man you previously ate with.

“Aaaahh! I’m so sorry Haitham, but I really have to go! I have a million papers that need to be sorted and— gosh. How did the time fly by so quickly?! I could’ve sworn it was twelve just a minute ago—!”

“Wait!”

His voice is rushed — panicked, almost — and you find yourself unable to move. The ironclad grip on your wrist is tingling, even more so as it moves to envelop your hand completely.

His cool facade wavers slightly when you regard him with astonishment, but he gulps down his frayed nerves and steels his resolve. “Call me that again.”

“Huh? Like what?”

His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Haitham.”

Mission Status: Success?

Step 5: Make him... jealous?

Apparently, your sad attempts have garnered Kaveh’s attention (and pity). Why else would he be at your door at 4 a.m. and suggesting you use him to make Alhaitham jealous, all the while grumbling how “It’s so painful to watch you do so much, only for that guy to do nothing.”, as well as the addition of “Maybe this time I can finally get the upper hand over him and that infuriating arrogance of his!”

“Is someone like him really going to get jealous over something so...” you trail off in thought after he explains the plan he had in mind, eyes screwing shut as you try to think of the word to describe, well, whatever it is Kaveh proposed, “so trivial? It just seems like something so beyond him to get jealous.”

“Hah!” he barks out, settling back into your sofa and patting down the blanket on his lap. “You’re kidding, right?” When you don’t respond, he levels his sight with yours, perplexed. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?” At your retort, his face freezes. He seems to have come to a realisation, if the way he instantly sits upright has anything to say about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaveh intervenes, hands resting on his temples. “Let me get this right. You’ve been pursuing him for how many years now—”

“Five years,” comes your instant reply.

“—I wasn’t expecting you to answer, but exactly. Five years. And you think something like this would be ‘trivial’ to him? That guy??” You nod; he groans. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. The both of you.”

An offended gasp escapes you. “Well, excuuuse you! I’ll have you know I’m trying my best over here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware of that.”

He deflates against the cushions with a sigh, lifting the fallen blanket up his torso. A slew of unintelligible grumbles leaves his lips, and you just barely make out “I still don’t understand what you see in someone so unromantic...” before shaking your head at his antics.

When you take a glimpse at the time, however, a thought sticks out in your head.

“Also, why are you here at 4 a.m.?”

“Am I not allowed to visit you at 4 a.m.?”

You blink. He blinks back.

“...Did Alhaitham take your keys again?”

Silence.

“No...” he trails off, like a liar.

That night — or morning, rather — you let the temporarily homeless Kaveh crash at your house, discussing your plans on making Alhaitham jealous.

As a result of your late-night plotting, you’d somehow ended up spending around a week solely in Kaveh’s presence; as per the plan, that is. According to him, if you took some time away from Alhaitham, then it would “make him question that annoying mindset of his and force him to realise what a bumbling fool he’s being!”.

(Kaveh’s words. Not yours.)

Well, you suppose taking a break from his presence wouldn’t do that much harm. The blond makes for fun company, and you would never turn down an invitation from him! In short, this plan of his just gave you an excuse to hang with him even more than you already do!

You strayed from the Akademiya as much as you both could without neglecting your work, but the majority of your time was spent with Kaveh in the House of Daena, your house, or Puspa Café. And when Alhaitham was in the nearby area, or directly approaching you both, Kaveh would be quick to pull you away to a different spot. And when he managed to catch you when you were alone outside your working duties, you would conjure an excuse before hurriedly taking your leave. (You mentally apolgised to him each time as you scurried away, not daring to look back in case your resolve crumbled.)

Luckily, today, you haven’t encountered him.

With a much needed stretch after working through the morning, you turn to Kaveh and see him doing the same as a yawn slips past his lips. You’re feeling a bit peckish now, and you’re sure he is too. Plus, the weather was pretty good so going outside wouldn’t be too bad!

“Hey, where do you wanna go for lunch today? Lambad’s—”

Though, you barely get to utter the restaurant’s name when he pulls you into an embrace, arms wrapped around you as you both sway slightly in tandem. Instantly, you realise what’s happening.

Wait, we’re starting that part of the plan now?!

Sure enough, footsteps resound from behind you, a deep and familiar voice following soon after. “So this is where you’ve been. Strangely enough, you seem busier and harder to find these days.”

Kaveh parts from you a second later, but takes your hand in his. Instantly, you see Alhaitham’s eyes dart to your interlocked fingers before returning back to you. Kaveh seems to take note as well, and deftly swings your hands in front.

“Yeah, and what of it?“ You gulp at his smug tone, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming argument they usually fall into. “But you seem to have caught us at a bad time again, because we were just on our way to a date!”

...That wasn’t part of the script?!

His hand gently squeezes around yours, and you will yourself out of your surprise. Right. This is part of the act. Even if it doesn’t sit well with you, it’s not like you have many options left!

And so with that being said, you steel your nerves and turn to face Alhaitham. Not even a second later do you find yourself faltering when you take note of his expression — blank and slightly shadowed by his hair.

“...Is that so?”

“Of course. We were just on our way to Lambad’s Tavern,” Kaveh responds before turning to you with a smile. “Weren’t we, [Name]?”

And you smile back (albeit through gritted teeth). “Haha, yes, that’s right! We were just about to have lunch.”

A pregnant pause lingers in the air after your agreement.

(Is it just you, or did the temperature suddenly drop?)

“I see,” Alhaitham finally breathes out. He spares another glance at your hands before meeting Kaveh’s eyes. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your plans, but I need [Name]’s help for some urgent matters.”

A scoff. “What could be so urgent for someone who makes it a point to get all his work done in advance?”

“I can assure you it’s far more urgent than your... date.”

There’s a distant sheen in his eyes as he forces out the last word. The air around you turns frigid as the two men stare each other down and, if this were depicted in a show of some sort, you’re sure lightning would crackle in the space between the two.

An agitated sigh breaks the silence. The grip on your hand loosens.

“Alright, fine. You can have [Name] for your ‘urgent matter’.” Kaveh gently nudges you forward until you find yourself standing before Alhaitham. “If you do anything strange to [Name], I’ll come and personally sort you out myself!”

Besides the brief scoff and mutter of “I’d like to see you try”, Alhaitham spares you a prolonged glance before wrapping his hand around your wrist and turning away, forcing you to follow hot on his heels. When you look back at Kaveh, all you see is a double thumbs up with an agitated expression (no doubt he heard Alhaitham’s snide remark) that screams “I told you so”.

Well, that’s no help at all.

The walk to the elevator is silent. The ride up to his office even more so. And awkward. Very awkward. You’re probably the only one feeling this awkwardness though. After all, you were the one ignoring him this past week, not the other way around, so he has no reason to feel awkward around you. In fact, Alhaitham should be more annoyed than awkward...

Ah. I’m screwed.

The lift comes to a halt when the realisation sets in, the presence of his hand on your skin even more prominent than before. He still hasn’t said a word to you. And, if you’re being completely honest here, you’re not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

There’s an unnerving silence in the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office. Upon closer inspection, it seems his assistant isn’t here today either; only you and Alhaitham stand in the centre (of his office, and the world). As your gaze flits across the expanse of the room, you note how messy the interior appears — well, messier than usual, that is.

“I didn’t like you when we first met,” he begins; unprovoked. He doesn’t turn around, and so you’re left to gape at his back. “You were annoying and kept hovering around me, even when I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to be bothered. You were a nuisance; a thorn in my side and I would always get irritated at the mere mention of your name.

I never understood your naivety. Were you pretending, or were you really that unaware? Why would you go out of your way to make a good impression on others? Did you have to be liked by everyone so desperately?” A harsh scoff leaves his lips, but you couldn’t tell whether that was directed to you or to himself. “I couldn’t understand you and thought of you as a fool.”

Wait… isn’t he just straight-up insulting you now?

“I couldn’t understand you back then but now, I know you like the back of my hand.” His voice remains unchanged. Perhaps if it weren’t only you two in the room, the slight waver of his voice would have gone unheard. Then he breathes out a sigh and tilts his head back, still with no intention of facing you. “Do you remember? That winter back in our first year. The one where we were partnered for a presentation.”

(Oh. He’s actually talking to you now.)

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer, “that’s the one we were given two months to prepare for, right?”

He hums in confirmation, “Do you also know, [Name]? At the time, I considered those two months we spent together to be the worst of my life.”

...What.

Too stunned to even think up a retort, he seems to take your silence as his cue to continue.

“Your views on the world; your naivety; your foolishness... I soon realised they were all qualities I had merely made up, simply because I couldn’t grasp your intentions until I actually talked to you. Hah,” he laughs, bitter and remorseful, “it turned out I was the naive one, and that made me question my values.

At the end of our project, I came to realise it wasn’t anything to do with your disposition, but more so my feelings for you. I knew what it was but, at the same time, I denied them. I avoided you more than anything in hopes of them dying out. But... they didn’t. They only grew stronger, as if to mock me for my vain efforts.”

And then he turns — slowly, hesitantly — knitted brows and lower lip caught between his teeth. It’s bashful and shy and tentative; and yet you’re sure his eyes have never held such a confident and resolute glint before now. And now, with both of your hands engulfed in his, he continues on.

“Ever since accepting my feelings, I grew more aware of your presence. No matter where I looked, no matter where my thoughts were, you were always there. I soon came to value your opinion and thoughts of me when I hadn’t cared about such things before. With time, they grew stronger. More desperate. And when realising that just being by you was no longer enough, I... became greedy.”

(Alhaitham has a vague sense to stop here, but he can’t. He won’t let this chance to reveal the true nature of his feelings slip by.)

There’s a small beat of silence as he lowers his head — foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, experience all the mundane and extraordinary things life has to offer with you. I want to be there for you and grow old with you, and...” His hold on you tightens, angling his head to get a better view of you, and for you to see his glossy eyes and near-trembling smile. “And I want to keep your smile in my eyes for the rest of my life. If this isn't love, then I'll probably never know love for the rest of my life."

Your mind’s a mess; jumbled and incoherent. Unfocused, your eyes dart from every dip of his face to the furniture in the background, unable to keep your mind and concentration at bay from his sudden confession. His eyes bore into you, seemingly inching closer and closer; so close they’re all you can see, speckles of umber and teal that would usually go unnoticed becoming very prominent.

Somehow, he leans in even closer. Your mind blanks, throat parched and senses going into overdrive.

“Wait, Alhaitham—”

“No,” he interrupts, his unwavering gaze never once straying from you. “I refuse to wait any longer than I already have. I should have said this long ago when I realised our feelings were mutual, as opposed to waiting it out for so long.”

And then you hear it.

“I love you.”

“What...”

“If you need me to say it a thousand times over just so you understand, then so be it.” His eyes soften considerably, a smoldering passion now unconcealed and consuming you whole. “I love you, [Name]. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’ll continue loving you for even longer.”

You want to respond. No, you have to respond. After years of showing your affections you finally received a clear response. You should be jumping in his arms and professing your love again! So why...

Why can’t you say anything...?

The pad of his thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching beads of tears you hadn’t realised were accumulating. The residue follows the path of his thumb, dampening your cheekbones as his hands slide to cup your cheeks.

“Are you backing out now?” he breathes out, a silent laugh puffing from his lips. “After all this time you’ve spent pursuing me, and you go silent when I confess my undying love for you?”

“Ah, no, I just... can’t believe it, I guess,” you respond sheepishly after regaining yourself. In a haze of excitement, you turn slightly to fist-bump yourself, his cupped hands following your slight movement. “Your efforts have finally paid off, [Name]!”

Just then, a small “Bfft” rings out. You blink and cautiously turn your focus to the man wearing a stoic expression in front of you.

“Did you… just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” comes his instantaneous response.

(A bright grin alights your face at that, and Alhaitham finds it hard to not kiss you right then and there.)

“You liar. You so did!”

“You’re just hearing things.”

“Yeah, because I just totally heard you turn your head in a failed attempt to hide that laugh—!”

Your words are muffled, swallowed and silenced by his lips on yours. An overflowing warmth seeps through the point of contact. It traverses through your body, now hyper-aware of every strand of his hair tickling your cheeks, to the pads of his fingers searing your skin, to even the faintest brush of his clothes against you.

His touch is warm and all-consuming — and you find yourself leaning in for more.

(Strange. You thought his lips would be a little rough, but they were actually quite soft.)

Slowly, your lips detach. He lingers and hovers over you, everything from half-lidded eyes to his lips brushing against yours consuming you whole. When you try to move back to cool down, he follows; an aimless pursuit for your touch.

“I think you talk too much,” he finds himself murmuring, mind still reeling from what just transpired. Your dazed blinks-turned-smile sets his heart alight at such an adorable sight only he is privy to, as he relishes in the warmth diffused from your cheeks to his palms.

“Hehe, but you like it though— let gwo obf my cheeks.”

In the midst of your complaints, Alhaitham grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at your puckered lips from his hands smushing your cheeks. How cute... he muses to himself, before planting a chaste, lingering kiss on your forehead.

“By the way,” he whispers against your skin, “your little act with Kaveh hasn’t been forgotten.”

“Uggh. You’re sho stingyy...”

“Hm, perhaps. But you like it.”

Alhaitham had never seen you with such a dumbfounded expression until now.

Mission Status: Who cares? You just won in life! (But also: success!)

“Ugh. They’re at it again.”

Aether and Paimon share a glance upon hearing Kaveh’s grumbles. They follow his line of sight to see what put the architect in such a state, only...

“Is that... Alhaitham?!”

Paimon’s cry earns her more than a few glares from researchers, scholars, and students alike, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue here is in a far corner tucked away in the House of Daena sits you and Alhaitham, the man in question pinching and tugging your cheeks as you try (and ultimately fail) to swat his hands away.

The travel duo had met you a handful of times. Within those few meetings, Aether had thought of you as someone sincere and resolute, whereas Paimon had deemed you as the “nice researcher with the tastiest food recommendations!”. And within those few meetings, never would they have guessed your relationship with Alhaitham.

“Oh?” Kaveh cocks a brow at their apparent surprise. “You didn’t know they’re dating? That guy is so obvious about it with how clingy he is.”

Aether hurriedly covers Paimon’s mouth before she could spew another set of cries that would surely put them in the bad books of the nearby occupants.

A beat of silence passes. A distinct murmur from your direction can be heard amidst the faint scribbling of pen on paper and the rustling of pages being turned. And then comes a sigh from beside them.

“Y’know, that guy’s been in love with [Name] for as long as I can remember, and probably even before then,” Kaveh starts, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you quietly giggling away at something Alhaitham whispered. “He was so obvious about it too with his blatant favouritism. And even then he never outright acted on his feelings — that were very much reciprocated, mind you — until a few months ago! If it weren’t for me, this whole thing could’ve taken another few years!”

Aether and Paimon share another glance before focusing back on Kaveh and his seemingly never-ending rant.

“Honestly,” he huffs, head shaking in line with his exasperation and still in his own world, “I still have no clue what he’s thinking. For all I know, he probably just wanted to see how far [Name] would go; that smug bastard. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

While Aether awkwardly chuckles at the tagged insult, Paimon continues to watch your shared interaction in wonder — namely the smile which adorns Alhaitham’s lips.

“Wow. Paimon can’t imagine a guy like him being in love...”

Kaveh scoffs. “There’s no need to imagine it when he’s so blatantly love-struck right in front of us. However...” he trails off when you nudge Alhaitham, the new angle allowing the trio to witness him chuckling fondly at your action before placing a kiss on your cheek. A light sigh slips past Kaveh’s lips, “I’m glad they’re finally together.”

“Why so?” Aether asks, head tilting at the man’s change in tone.

“It was painful to watch.”

“Ah...”

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sugarnspice630 · 1 month

Text

Movie Night - Yunho x Reader

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.”

•pairing: softdom!yunho x fem!reader

•word count: 1.9k

•tags: mdni, golden retriever Yunho turns soft dom, vertically challenged reader, reader has never seen the Spider-Man movies, Yunho is a MASSIVE ass guy, teasing, butt foundling, reader falls asleep, somnophilia if you squint, cockwarming, ...did I miss anything? probably

Summary: Having a movie date night with Yunho, but you find yourself falling asleep, so Yunho does the only thing he can think of to keep you awake

A/N: Inspired by my Thighs, Tits, or Ass man Ateez edition post! Sorry to anyone who has seen the Spider-Man movies (I have not). Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

It was movie date night with Yunho! You were so excited to have the whole evening with just the two of you. Your objective was to watch the entire Spider-Man movie series, cause you had never seen them before and he was dying to share them with you. Were superhero movies your favorite thing in the world? No, but you agreed to watch them because Yunho loves them. You could never turn down any request he had, especially when he gave you those soft eyes. It makes your heart melt every time.

Yunho was busy preparing the living room for the movie night while you took it upon yourself to make the popcorn. A huge bowl of it to make it through all the movies. You had to stand on your tippy toes to put the first bag into the microwave. Balancing yourself against the counter and stretching your calves and arms as far as they would go to get the bag in. You heard a soft chuckle from behind and felt Yunho’s body pushing against you. You tilted your head back and looked up at him, and he looked down at you. He closed the door to the microwave and pushed the buttons for you, with a smile on his face the whole time.

“Figured you needed some help.”

“I could have managed!” He softly chuckles at your retaliation.

"Right, right, sorry.” He gently rubbed up and down your sides with his frame still pushed against you. Resting his head on top of yours and staying close to you for a few minutes. He gently kissed the top of your head before tracing his hands down to your butt. Gently squeezing both cheeks and massaging. You felt your face get warm.

“Yuyu!” You drew out his name in a playful manner.

“Sorry baby! I just couldn’t help it.” It also didn’t help that you were wearing pajama shorts that just covered your cheeks, and the fabric was a little thin. You could feel him from behind you, but it wasn't hard. The timer for the popcorn bag went off, and Yunho took one hand off your butt and opened the door for you. He grabbed the bag and set it on the counter in front of you.

“Thank you~!” He softly patted your head and gave you a smile before making his way back to the living room to wait for you. You took the bag, carefully opening it to not burn yourself, and poured it into a big bowl for you two to share, taking out all of the kernels that did not get popped. You carried the bowl into the living room and smiled when you saw Yunho sitting there, all sprawled out on the couch, looking comfortable. Setting the bowl down on the table in a spot that would be easy for both of you to reach. The atmosphere was perfect to watch movies together at home. The lights were dimmed, but not enough to affect navigating your way around the furniture. The room temperature was perfect—warm enough that you would not need a blanket while also allowing the extra warmth from cuddling up together.

You walked around the table to sit down on the couch next to Yunho. In the meantime, he propped his feet up on the table at an angle to allow you to curl in underneath his arms. Before you could sit down, he gave you this cocky smirk and used his toes to kick the remote off the table, landing behind you. You placed your hands on your hips and scoffed playfully.

“Really?”

“My foot slipped.” He said nonchalantly, still keeping that smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and smirked back at him. Turning around, you bent over at the waist to pick up the remote. While bent over, you could just feel Yunho’s eyes drilling into you. You took your time picking up the remote, just to tease him even further. As you came back up, you turned around quickly, hoping to catch Yunho lacking, but he was staring straight ahead. He must have directed his gaze away just before you turned around.

“I know you were staring.”

“Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. You’ll never know~.” Still staring straight ahead. You lightly slapped his shoulder before sitting down next to him and getting comfortable. He extended his arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. You handed the remote to him and let him pick the first movie you were going to watch.

“This is important, so you have to pay attention.” He said enthusiastically, excited to share his interests. The golden retriever energy was strong at this moment. You swore that if he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy right now.

“Hard to do that when you’re here too.” He just smiled at your sly comment, and you nuzzled up against him.

The movie started to play, and you watched intently. Your eyes were trying to follow everything that was happening on screen, which proved to be difficult at times because there was so much happening, but you managed. Yunho would occasionally speak up during a quiet part to tell you something really awesome was coming up. About halfway through the movie, you noticed your eyes were getting heavy, so you tried to blink away the tiredness, but it just kept coming back to haunt you. You wanted to stay awake and watch the movies with Yunho. You tapped Yunho on the leg two times to indicate you were going to change positions. You opted for laying your head in his lap and laying sideways, still facing the TV. He softly placed his hand on your side and gently rubbed. More minutes of the movie go by, and you are still fighting tiredness. You find your eyes closing, only to immediately open them back up wide to focus back on the movie. You have missed most of the last quarter of the movie by now, considering how many times your eyes have opened and closed. Yunho noticed this, and one time when you didn’t open your eyes right away, he slightly flicked your side.

“Ya, pay attention Y/N. You keep falling asleep.”

“I know Yunho; I’m sorry. It is interesting; I just can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Well here, sit up and come over here.” Yunho shifts in his spot a little and invites you to sit up in his lap. You picked yourself up and moved to sit on his lap, still facing the TV. He placed his hands back at your side to support you sitting on him. You looked back and looked at Yunho’s face. He was smirking at you softly and rubbing your sides while he looked at you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, and you turned your attention back to the movie. You then felt Yunho lean a bit closer to you and felt his breath near your ear.

“If you can’t stay awake, I’ll give you a reason to stay awake.” His tone was low, and it made your face heat up a little. You continued to stay focused on the movie, and soon after, the credits began to roll. Just because this movie was over did not mean you were done; no, you had all the other movies in the series to get through. He picked up the remote and started the next movie in the series.

Tiredness began to take over you again, but you swore to stay awake for Yunho. Hiding your subtle yawns and slow blinks the best you could. Eventually, you find your head bobbing to the side and your eyes closing. This time, you did not wake up as quickly as before. Yunho took notice of your sleeping figure and decided to do something about it. He took one hand and shifted his hips to pull his sweatpants and underwear down. Then, he grabbed your face harshly, which caused you to jolt awake. He turned his hand to turn your face toward him. You stared at him with a shocked expression.

“I told you if you couldn’t stay awake, I’d give you a reason to stay awake. Take your shorts and underwear off.” He sounded annoyed, so you didn’t want to piss him off any further. You obeyed him and lifted yourself up by your knees, slid off your shorts and underwear, with his help, of course, then sat back down on his lap. To your surprise, you felt his bare skin touching yours. You felt something slightly poking your behind as well.

“Lift your hips back up baby.” He whispered to you, and you lifted your hips slightly, removing his hand from your face to help you out. Yunho took that opportunity to guide his semi-hard dick to your entrance. “Alright, sit back down slowly.” Yunho placed his hands back on your side as you slowly sat yourself back on his lap. You whimpered softly as his thick dick stretched out your opening. You softly bit your lip and felt Yunho push your hips down to put all your weight on him. “You’re going to pay attention now, yes?” You nodded your head softly, your brain becoming clouded by how big Yunho is inside you.

You were having a slightly hard time focusing on the movie, but for a different reason. It was not because you were tired; it was because you could feel your boyfriend’s cock inside you getting harder, and he would twitch every so often. Your heart rate was so harsh and heavy that you could feel it in your pussy. You were almost certain Yunho could feel it too, because he would grunt or groan with pleasure every time you felt it. Yunho wiggled in his seat a little, but really to try to push himself further inside you. You softly moaned, and you felt one of Yunho’s hands leave your side and come up to cover your mouth. He leaned closer to your body, which only pushed his cock into you in a different direction, causing you to moan again and flutter your eyes.

“No talking during the movie love~.” You felt his warm breath near your ear. “You need to focus~.”

“I-I can’t-.” You tried to say it quietly, but Yunho’s hand over your mouth muffled your words.

“What? Couldn’t hear you baby. Could you say that again?” He moved his hand off your mouth a little to allow you to speak.

“I can’t-!” Before you could finish your sentence, Yunho rammed his hips up into you, causing your words to get cut off and you to let out a loud moan. He leaned his body back up against your back and whispered in your ear again.

“I’m giving you one more chance to stay quiet before I completely ruin you; do you understand?” Nodding your head quickly and breathing heavily, you directed your attention back to the movie once again, but Yunho was too far in his head now. He knew you didn’t really care for the movie and just wanted to sit on his dick for the rest of the night, so he lazily rolled his hips up and down to push himself around. Smirking to himself as he could hear just the faintest of whimpers coming from you as you stayed focused on the screen. You could not grasp onto anything that was happening, but to trick Yunho into thinking you were watching, you stayed facing forward and fixed your eyes on the screen.

This was going to be a long night.

Tags: @pre1ttyies @isiloiale @moongoddess1982 @yeosangsbbg @10nantscompanion @v-lvs-yungi @dawn-iscozy @certifiedmoa @tinyqaa @sleepyw1tch @pancake-freckle @mysteriousrainsworld @xuchiya

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tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

Marvelous

Miguel O'Hara x Pregnant! Reader

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, fluff, protective Miguel. Nudity appreciation, pregnancy, emotional distress over pregnancy, body change.

Summary: You don't feel enough for Miguel. He proves you wrong.

Requested here

Hope you like anon ✨

Being with someone like Miguel was far from easy. Coworkers in Alchemax, that slowly melted into friends, little jokes here and there, a little more trust and the friend line blurred more and more, until, oop! Attraction led the way until love went ahead of it.

And now, a couple of years later, here you were, padding your fingertips and massaging gently the top of your round and pregnant belly.

Miguel was like a happy madman when you told him that you were pregnant. But that also had been the start of a stage you had never seen him before. Overprotection.

If you wanted to get your slippers, he'd bend over and place them on your feet, to avoid you flexing too much. He'd always get behind you as you walked down the stairs, would literally do anything to make your pregnancy easier.

Even though his overprotection could be a bit vexing at times, it had more benefits than anything. Your feet were sore? He'd bring some soothing oils and massage them. You woke up craving something? He'd wake up and drive and didn't dare come back until he got you what you craved. Back pains? None of that as he would be your own personal heat provider.

The man loved you, that was much true.

----

As you walked through the streets hand in hand with him, it was unavoidable to not notice the hungry stares some women did his way, then they'd look at you and sneer in a subtle grimace.

Miguel was way into his thoughts to actually pay attention at your mood changing. Self consciousness in your appearance sinking deeper in your head.

"Can... Can we go home?" You halted and he seized you with a curious gaze.

"Thought you wanted to try the place?"

Shaking your head you just pulled him back. The scrutinizing eyes just turned sharper around you. Heart beating faster, some hidden laughs as they glanced your way. You needed to go, your head was spiraling into an unkind tornado of self doubt and deprecating thoughts. Hand squeezed him tightly.

His eyes squinted but he just nodded

"Wanna order food from home?"

You shook your head.

"I just feel a bit tired, that's all." of course he'd notice the little break in your voice.

----

You stared at the mirror, naked. Swollen feet, extra pounds that had settled in your hips, inner thighs and arms. A wider back. Stretch marks in every place you reached to see. Dark spots in certain areas, face puffed and breast that didn't precisely offer much perkiness.

Disgusting

Your mind groaned.

How could he look at you and not feel repulsed?

No. He loved you. Right?

He could get another woman once you've given him what he wants.

The mere thought brought tears to your eyes.

He wouldn't. No he would never do such thing

Why would he waste his precious time in someone like you?

Heart beat painfully fast in your constricted chest.

You're just embarrassing him.

Shaky hands took the first thing that they could grab. A sheet.

Hide away!

The sheets were wrapped around your body, tightly. Your legs made you curl in in the corner nearby the bed. Your own corner of shame.

What did he see in you? What had possessed him into putting a baby in you? Surely there were far better and prettier suitors. Suitors that would look the opposite of you in their pregnancy.

You had seen so many gorgeous women which pregnancies were a breeze. Unlike you, all over the place with clothes that barely fit you. Miguel had given you some of his t shirts and jerseys to be around.

Speaking of the devil...

His keys just tinkered as they were put in the usual spider shaped tray in the entrance. He called your name, but it only made you to recoil further in the sheets.

"Mi amor?" His hand pushed the door open and frowned upon watching you on the floor, sniffling and shielding yourself from whatever that had harmed you.

"Princesa?" He approached carefully upon hearing your muffled sobs. His heart gave panicked leaps. Were you hurt?, No. The doctor had said it was a perfectly healthy baby, and there was no visible sight of any emergency in plain sight. His heart wrenched as you covered more in the sheets the more he approached.

"Go away..."

He stopped, but slowly walked to you.

"Miguel, please just-"

He sat next to you.

"Wanna tell me why my wife is crying on the floor and wrapped in a sheet?"

Shaking your head, you wiped your tears.

"H-How can you be with someone like me?"

The question threw him off guard.

"What did... you just say?"

He wasn't angry, just genuinely curious as to why you'd ask such thing.

"From so many options you could've picked, why would you choose me?"

"I'm sorry but I am not understanding."

"C'mon, Miguel. From all the prettiest women you could've picked, you ended up with me. Why?"

His mind clicked at the sudden realization.

"Because I love you, that's why."

You weren't convinced much to his dismay.

"Come." He stood up and helped you up.

He guided you to the mirror in the middle of the room and stood behind you.

"Is this why you wanted to come home?"

"I see how women stare at you."

"So?"

Bit by bit he removed the sheets off your body, despite your meek struggles to keep it on you.

"They're not you."

He placed his arms around your belly.

"Just look at what you're doing. You're carrying my child. My child, Mi vida. You think I would've picked someone else for this?"

His mouth went to your neck, to plant little kisses along your flesh.

"You think I don't appreciate your body going through such changes to keep my child inside?" He kissed your cheek.

"Mírate, chula." (Look at you, beautiful)

You refused. But patience went both ways in your relationship. His fingers took your chin and pulled it to make you see yourself in the mirror.

"There you go. Wanna know what I see?"

He wiped your eyes and sighed.

"I see my wife. Going through a natural process of change."

His hands roamed your hips.

"These hips are my favorite. You know why?"

Not the littlest idea.

You shook your head.

"Because none can take me like they do. And they will literally stretch away in a way I'm still trying to process, just to get our baby out."

"Anyone whose pregnant can do that"

"Not really. You know how many women go through a C section because they can't push the baby out?"

Fingers wiped the fresh tears from your face again.

"But you, just... How can I not feel marveled at you? Don't take that away from me, Mi amor. Besides, you think I wouldn't find you irresistible just because you're pregnant?"

Your mouth was set in a pout and he chuckled.

"You know how much I want you? God, You're gorgeous, mi reina."

You broke in tears and he held you close, hands caressing gently and dotingly your body, he then kneeled to kiss your belly and then kiss you.

"You gave me hope to have a family again. And that's... something no other woman, but you, have achieved. And I would choose you all over again to do so. Got it?"

You nodded through teary eyes and he laid you down.

"Are you hungry?

"Hmm"

He squeezed you softly and kissed your forehead while chuckling

"Such a silly girl to think you're unworthy, really"

"I love you." You'd mumble as you curled into his chest, his hand caressing your hair.

"I love you too, bonita."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #pregnant reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #t writes✨

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peachdues · 6 months

Text

IN THE NETHERWOOD

PART II

KINKTOBER 2023 ♤ WEREWOLF!SANEMI X RED RIDING HOOD!READER

PART I HERE

A/N: I would apologize for the utter lack of plot, but we all know why you're here. You can have plot later; for now, enjoy some 9.5k words of pure monster porn. 13.4k words total.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • werewolf fucking x F!Reader • knotting/mating • breeding • tummy bulging • so many creampies • like a concerning amount of cum • Sanemi half-transforms and has fangs/claws • slight blood mention • spit kink • oral sex (F!receiving) • Reader gets fucked stupid tbh • mildly violent/potentially upsetting content at the end but I don’t want to give anything away

You awoke the next morning not upon a bed of pine needles or curled against an overlarge piece of driftwood but cushioned against warm skin and rocky muscle.

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the watery light of morning, having not seen the sun since you’d first entered the Netherwood more than a week earlier. But the clearing by the river Sanemi had led you to the previous night meant fewer trees, and so, the dull gray of morning was visible above your heads where you’d slept curled atop the Huntsman’s broad chest.

You rolled your head against his sternum, peering up at the soundly sleeping Woodsman, admiring the peaceful serenity of his slumbering face.

His chest rose and fell steadily as he dreamed, and you could not stop yourself from allowing your hands to wander, to explore this Wolf who was to be your mate.

Your fingers began at his forehead, brushing his silvery strands back and exposing the cross-crossed scars lanced across his forehead. You traced each one, marveling at the shiny, smooth texture beneath your fingertips.

You danced your fingers over and down the features of his face and to the hollow of this throat. You then ventured lower, grazing over the thick scars rippling across the exposed portion his chest.

With a hard swallow, you allowed your hand to drop lower, teasingly traipsing down the ridges of his abdomen until you came to the waistband of his breeches.

Your eyes lowered to the seam of his pants, breath lodging in your throat at the rigid bulge that had formed at his groin.

You held your breath as your hand graced lower, your curiosity a tug in your gut not capable of being ignored.

Before you could brush your hand against the bulge, a warm hand snagged around your wrist, halting it in mid-air.

“Lamb,” Sanemi’s voice was thick with sleep but full of warning. “May I ask what you’re doing?”

Feeling bold, you threw a leg over Sanemi’s hips, rolling yourself atop him and pressing your groin flush against his, breath hitching as the rigid formation in his pants brushed against the sensitive spot between your legs.

“Wolf,” You mocked his tone, though your breaths were jerky and short. “Touch me again.”

A low growl reverberated from Sanemi’s throat, his fingers digging into the plush of your thigh, though you could not tell whether it was out of his wavering restraint or mounting desire.

When he did not move his hands, you bucked your hips against his, pushing against his groin in impatient demand.

Your name fell from his lips, choked and guttural. “If you keep doing that,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I will not be able to stop myself.”

You leaned forward, lips grazing the vein protruding in his neck, savoring the way it thrummed under your touch. The blunt tips of Sanemi’s nails bit into your skin as he snarled against your neck.

You only smirked at his fraying restraint. “Then don’t.”

Sanemi gently but reluctantly pushed you off him, though his hands lingered against your waist, his fingers tracing circles.

“Didn’t your grandmother warn you never to provoke a hungry beast?”

“She may have, once,” you conceded with a sly grin, your fingers slipping below the waist of Sanemi’s breeches to tug him forward so that his hips were pressed against yours once more. “But I was never particularly good at listening.”

“A bad habit you’ve carried with you into the Wood, it seems,” the Huntsman agreed. “And you’ve made me quite ravenous, little Lamb.”

You squeaked as Sanemi’s hands braced around your waist and he promptly lifted you off him and plopped you unceremoniously on the pebbled shore beside him.

“But I, unlike you, possess a morsel of self-control.” He shot you a sly grin. “I can wait until we get to my den.”

“You certainly had no compunctions when it came to tasting me last night.” You grumbled.

Sanemi lifted an eyebrow as his lips quirked up in a smirk of his own. “And taste you again I shall,” he purred, sitting up. “But I want you spread out across across the floor of my den — not here, in the open.”

Sanemi rose to his feet and swiftly began gathering your supplies, preparing for the trek ahead.

“How is your wound?” He called conversationally as he fastened his traveling cloak around his shoulders.

You’d not given much thought to the gash Kaigaku had inflicted upon you the day before, and your stomach dipped at the thought of your skin stretching around the tender flesh.

Only, to your slight confusion, you really felt no pain at all; none of that burning, sharp aching you’d felt all the previous night until Sanemi had distracted you with his wicked fingers and even more wicked tongue.

“My leg!” You gasped, your skirts bunched in your hands as you pulled them back, damning propriety as you exposed its bare length to the Huntsman.

To your shock, all that remained of the wound inflicted by Kaigaku’s knife was a thin, reddish scar, as though the injury was several weeks old as opposed to mere hours.

You pressed the tips of your fingers against the thin stripe of skin, testing it. “It does not hurt, either!”

You looked back to Sanemi though he seemed nonplussed in contrast to your wide-eyed bewilderment.

“At least I won’t have to carry you anymore,” the Huntsman’s tone was teasing as he fastened his worn traveling cloak around his shoulders. “You constantly grabbing fistfuls of my fur was starting to get annoying. I thought you were going to leave behind bald patches.”

You gaped at him. “Does it not concern you that my wound magically healed itself overnight without a drop of medicine?”

“Not particularly, no,” Sanemi held out a hand to help bring you to your feet. “Not when it’s my mark you bear upon your skin.” He said with a naughty wink.

You accepted his assistance with a huff, secretly marveling over the calloused, steady warmth of his touch as you righted yourself. “It’s humbling to know that, despite you spending the evening with your head between my legs, you continue to be as vague and elusive as you were when we first began this journey.”

Sanemi, who had turned away to adjust the various knives he kept strapped on his belt and in his pouch whipped back around to you. He frowned at the bemused yet vexed expression you wore.

“I don’t mean to be withholding,” he said after a moment. “I am just — unaccustomed to this,” the Huntsman motioned back and forth between you.

You returned his frown. “Talking?”

“Ye — no,” Sanemi ground his teeth for a moment, struggling for his words. “It is not the conversation part I find difficult. That part has been easy — with you, at least.”

Your cheeks warmed as the Huntsman continued. “It’s the…intimacy of it.” He scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Sharing the details of what I am with someone who does not already know them.”

Your irritation melted into something lighter, as a slow grin spread across your face.

“What?” He snapped.

“How serendipitous,” you said coyly. “You once found yourself irritated by my questions and now it seems you’re in need of them.”

Sanemi shook his head, muttering softly to himself as he secured his satchel around his shoulders and turned back, waiting for you to follow him back into the Wood. “Trust you to find amusement when I try to be serious.”

You only smiled as the pair of you set off, shoulder to shoulder, to begin your trek not towards any human village resting on the other side of the Netherwood, but to Sanemi’s den.

“What is a den anyway?” You kicked a small pebble, sending it skittering off into the brush. “Is it a literal wolf’s den?”

“A cave,” Sanemi’s tone was relaxed even as his eyes remained sharp, his nostrils flaring every so often to scent out any potential threat hidden in the shadows. “I s’ppose it is pretty close to what you think of when you consider wolves’ dens. We use them for mating, or for our heats.”

“You can go into heat without mating?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Our heats don’t happen often — maybe once or twice a year.” Sanemi looked back to you in thought. “I do find it ironic that our paths crossed right before a Blood Moon.”

You frowned. “And what is a Blood Moon?”

“Simply put, it is an eclipse,” Sanemi’s fingers moved to brush your cheek. “One that makes the moon appear crimson. But for wolves — cursed like me and those born — it is a time when our strength is at its peak; but we are also more unstable. Wild.”

You felt an excited chill pass over your skin. “But what does that have to do with your heat?”

The Huntsman only shrugged. “Blood moons can trigger heats behind the usual cycle; they can be stronger. More intense.”

“Which is why,” Sanemi reached over where you walked beside him and flicked your nose. “Your cloak is important, Lamb.”

“Speaking of that, you once warned me about the color of my cloak,” you frowned, pinching the fabric between your fingers. “You said red can symbolize many different things.”

“Aye, it can,” Sanemi held out a hand to help you over a particularly rocky bit of terrain, not letting go until he’d ensured you reached even ground. “I am surprised your Grandmother did not warn you of that.”

You felt slightly defensive of the old woman. “She may not have known. It’s an old cloak. It was an heirloom.”

“I highly doubt she did not know its import,” Sanemi disagreed, casting a sidelong glance your direction. “I told you it was enchanted. It has been acting as a ward against those in the Wood that would do you harm.”

“Cloaks like that are not just made and sold to unsuspecting villagers. Those who desire them, do so for specific reasons.”

You frowned, thumbing the fabric. “And what of the color? You’ve yet to tell me what the red means.”

Sanemi’s cheeks pinkened. “Red is an important color to wolves like me. It is the only color we can see.”

Your head whipped towards him with a soft gasp. “You mean — you cannot see other colors?”

The Huntsman shook his head, his eyes roaming the path before you. “Only the red of your cloak.”

“And its meaning?” You pressed.

Sanemi hesitated. “Red has been understood to be a mating signal. A declaration that one is unmarked but willing.”

You gaped at him. “So that day — the day we met,” you managed, your cheeks warming. “You thought I was — that I was offering myself to you?”

Rather than flush further, Sanemi laughed — a rich, velvety sound that filled you with warmth.

“No Lamb,” he said affectionately. “I didn’t think a scared little thing like you even knew what that cloak meant. Especially when you looked half-ready to pass out when you saw me.”

You crossed your arms self-consciously in front of your chest. “I’d been running for over a day, and the Wood is terrifying.”

The Huntsman’s hand found yours and he laced your fingers with his. “And yet you found me all the same. Perhaps the cloak worked.”

He lifted a hand to your shoulder, where his mark sat below the heavy fabric of the crimson hood. “After all, I am no longer taking you to another human village; I’m taking you somewhere so I can utterly defile you.”

Your thighs clenched together, his words sending excitement, coarse and hot, cascading through your veins. “It is not defilement when I am begging for your touch, Wolf.”

Sanemi tugged on your hand, pulling you against his chest and surprising you with a soft kiss, his thumb stroking your chin.

“Beg you shall, my darling Lamb.” He murmured against your lips. “So let us speed up our step so I can hear those sweet pleas.”

You giggled as Sanemi led you deeper into the Wood by your hand, your cheeks flushed pink and your stomach tittering with excitement at the prospect of what the moonrise would bring.

—-

It was late afternoon when Sanemi slowed to a stop.

You slowed beside him and followed his line of sight, looking down a small valley to see a series of small, interconnected rocky formations peppered throughout the ravine.

You exhaled softly. “Is that—?”

Sanemi nodded. “My den is just over there,” he pointed to a mass of moss-covered rock about halfway down the valley. “Though you cannot tell from this distance, it’s fairly deep on the inside.” He glanced down at you, eyes softening at the exhilaration upon your face. “We will not be disturbed.”

You tore your eyes away from the peaceful spread of land, the soft slopes of the mountainous terrain appearing so out of place with the murky darkness of the Netherwood. “And this is where you go every time you go into heat?”

“Aye, when wolves are unmated, it’s best for us to be alone,” Sanemi blushed slightly, a hand jumping to rub at the back of his neck. “To weather it alone, that is.”

Your hand found his and squeezed gently. “You won’t have to any longer.”

The Huntsman’s answering smile was warm as he tucked you into his side, kissing your hair.

“Come,” he said. “Let us get set up for the night.”

———

Sanemi had spoken the truth; though the cave had appeared small and unassuming from the outside, once he parted the thick ivy curtain which obscured the entrance from the sight of any wandering passerbys, you could see the mouth of the stone gave way to a comfortably large, rocky alcove.

The wall was set back about twenty feet from the cave’s entry. On one side, you spied a series of unevenly spaced ledges that Sanemi appeared to use as shelves, a cluster of odd-shaped packages wrapped in cloths of various fabrics resting upon the sediment.

Across from the little storage area was a thick pile of animal furs, soft and in pristine condition. Each was piled atop the other, creating a pad several inches thick that would serve as a barrier against the dirt-rock floor of the den.

Your eyes lingered on the pelts before you turned to Sanemi, head cocked in question.

Sanemi’s gaze darkened as it flitted between you and the furs. “A nest,” he explained, his voice turning to gravel. “To make the heat more comfortable.”

He paused for a moment. “Had I known I’d be finding myself a mate, I would have brought more. I was expecting to endure my heat alone —“

“It’s perfect,” you cut him off, hand covering his in assurance. “It’s all perfect.”

Sanemi brushed your hair back, hand caressing your face. He nodded towards the makeshift shelves on the opposite side of the nest. “Provisions,” he said. “I came here just before you found me to stock up on dried meat and fruits — and water.”

He nudged your foot shyly with his own. “And trust when I say you will need your sustenance.”

The suggestion in his tone was enough to make you step into him, heat pooling sensually in the depths of your stomach.

“Sanemi,” you whispered, and the Huntsman’s breath quickened. “Kiss me.”

Soft lips moved softly against your own, but it was not enough. With an eager gasp, you pressed forward, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, your teeth tugging at his bottom lip in silent request.

Sanemi opened, and your tongues melded together, both of you sighing deeply into the other as you breathed him in.

You walked him back, Sanemi allowing himself to be led to the edge of his nest. You pushed lightly on his chest, and he lowered himself, the Huntsman’s hands sliding down your waist and to your hips, tugging you down with him to straddle his lap.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you rest against him. As the two of you settled against the soft furs of the den nest, the Huntsman’s hardening length pushing against the sensitive spot between your legs, causing you both to gasp.

The Wolf’s chest rose hard and quick as you pushed your hips down against his once more.

Sanemi was panting against your mouth as you ground down once more against his crotch, mewling at the way his hardening bulge connected with that spot between your legs that made your toes curl.

“You must keep your cloak on,” he managed to whisper against your throat as he nuzzled against your skin.

At the first sound of the whimper building in your throat, Sanemi pushed your hips down against him, rolling his clothed groin up into yours. “I will still remove your dress, little lamb,” He huffed a quiet laugh skimming your jaw with his nose. “But the cloak is for your safety.”

“I do not wish for you to take me safely,” you whined, “I want you to take me as your mate.”

The declaration that you intended to accept the bond made the huntsman groan, his grip on your hips tightening as the fabric of your dress gathered beneath his palms.

“Be careful what you wish for, woman,” he warned, nipping at the tender spot beneath your ear.

“I will mate you, little lamb, but you are human.” Sanemi pulled back to face you, a warm hand coming to rest against your face as he gently, but firmly, forced you to meet his eyes. “And it is the full moon; it will be hard enough to restrain myself from transforming while I take you, even with your cloak on.”

Sanemi’s eyes shut tightly and for a moment, it looked as though he was in pain. “But were I to shift while claiming you right now, I couldn’t guarantee that I wouldn’t harm you. It is a risk I will not take, lamb.”

A warmth spread through your chest at the consideration and care the roughened man continued to show you, even as his heat only continued to heighten, evidenced by the ever-growing swell beneath his trousers.

The flutter in your stomach was tempered as your mind processed his words. “But you will shift while taking me? One day?”

Sanemi hesitated for a moment before nodding, and it was a struggle for you to refrain from clenching your thighs together. The wolf’s eyes were concerned, if not timid, as they searched yours. “Does that frighten you?”

The only thing that frightened you was how excited you felt at the prospect of Sanemi fully transforming into his fearsome, powerful wolf form as he pressed you into the pelts of his bed, but you weren’t about to confess that to him right then.

So you only shook your head, your fingers rising to gently caress the scar jutting across his cheek. “No, my wolf; that does not scare me at all.”

A pale eyebrow quirked up as a small smirk pulled at Sanemi’s lips. “So I am your wolf now, little lamb?”

“If I am to be yours, then you are to be mine, no?” You kissed him again, moaning softly at the soft fullness of his lips as they moved easily against yours. “Doesn’t the mating bond go both ways?”

Sanemi’s eyes were full of wonder as they roamed your face. “It does,” he whispered. “What you feel, I shall also, and likewise.”

“Then that makes you, my wolf.” You answered simply, smiling slyly. You leaned down to kiss him once more, your arms winding around his neck. The Huntsman groaned, his hands roaming the curves of your body, until they came to rest against your chest.

“Allow me,” Sanemi said gently, fingers coming to unlace the stays on your outer corset. “I’d prefer for you to be undressed before the moon rises.”

You grinned. “You just want to see me bare.”

“Aye, that’s true,” the Wolf chuckled, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin as his fingers deftly unwinding the cords keeping the garment secured. “But I also don’t want you trying to skin me for having destroyed your only set of clothing in my haste to have you my way.”

You mocked a pout. “But the cloak must stay?”

“Yes, you seductive little thing; your cloak stays for your protection.”

You groaned, huffing in annoyance as Sanemi finally undid the last lace of your corset and cast it aside. He pushed you back to sit against the pelts, kneeling before you to unlace your boots.

Once he’d set aside the worn leather shoes, the Huntsman focused his attention on the pair of long wool socks that went just over your knees. You tried to keep from squirming as his warm hands brushed against the bare skin above the tops of your socks, but the Wolf seemed intent on teasing you as much as possible. As he worked each sock slowly down your leg, he allowed his fingers to teasingly drag along the sensitive skin of your upper thighs.

You fought the urge to clench them together, your teeth gnashing together as you willed yourself not to shiver beneath his tantalizing touch. But you could not control the rush of arousal which flooded you, and your cheeks turned scarlet at the way Sanemi’s nostrils flared slightly, scenting you, a cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“So eager, little Lamb,” he simpered, allowing his fingers to drop to the space above one of your newly exposed ankle and massaging it. “So enticing.”

You glowered at him. “You know precisely what you’re doing, and I won’t fall for your little game.”

It was a lie, and you knew it as well as he, for all it took was a quick press of his lips against the crease between your shin and knee to have you whimpering, hips involuntarily bucking as you grew desperate for him to continue.

“It would not take much for me to have you begging, Lamb,” Sanemi warned, eliciting a gasp from you as he nipped the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Be grateful I will be in no mood to tease once the moon rises.”

You whined as Sanemi’s hands removed your skirts one at a time, and then your shift, slowly peeling back each of your layers until you were bare beneath him.

He pulled away once, to remove his cloak and the billowy linen shirt he wore, and then his boots. Left in nothing but his breeches, he knelt before you on the pelts, covering your trembling body with his warm solid form.

Your fingers jumped to the ties on his breeches, but Sanemi jerked his hips out of the way. At your small whine, he chuckled, his lips beginning a descent down your body from your neck.

“I first need to taste you,” he said simply between the soft nips he trailed down your torso, breaking up each prick of his teeth with alternating licks of his warm tongue.

Your small pout was quickly chased away by the electrifying sensation of Sanemi’s lips drifting closer and closer to where you wanted him most and you settled back against the furs, a tiny smile tugging at your mouth.

You spread your legs wider to accommodate his mass, so lean yet so solid, the muscles on his chest looking as though they’d been carved from the finest stone by only the most skilled of masons. Against the flickering light of the small fire he’d lit inside the cave, Sanemi’s hair was reminiscent of starlight, and his eyes, locked steadily with yours, glimmered like two, precious stones.

His mouth trailed lower, sweeping across your hipbones as he drew nearer to your core, Sanemi groaning softly as he scented your arousal where it pooled between your legs.

Your hands drifted to your naked breasts, your fingers pinching and tugging at your soft peaks as you nudged your hips forward, silently begging Sanemi to bestow upon you the same pleasure he’d given you the night before.

The Huntsman did not need a great deal of convincing. Hands wrapping around your thighs to hold you wide open, he surged forward and latched his mouth to your eager cunt.

Sanemi devoured you like a man starved.

He was sloppy; his face was pressed firmly against your center, jaw working furiously as his tongue lapped between your folds before dipping inside of your entrance, savoring the way your tight walls cinched around the wet appendage, before he pulled out and repeated the movement. The sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs could not rest, not between alternating brushes of the tip of his nose and the graze of his teeth as feasted.

Every so often, he would pull back, leaving only the tip of his tongue flicking against your bead, his face shiny with your slick, as he watched your face, the way your eyebrows knit and how your lips parted to let loose your breathy, desperate whimpers and pleas for more. But that brief moment of respite as he observed you rarely lasted more than a few thunderous beats of your heart before the Huntsman swooped down upon you once more, thrusting his tongue deep into your entrance and curling up, brushing against a spot within you that had you screaming his name.

One hand gripped your thigh harshly, his nails digging into the soft inner skin as he pulled you harder against his mouth, groaning between lewd slurps and smacks against your cunt. The other made its way towards your entrance, his fingers dragging lightly over the soft, fatty underside of your backside before settling at your opening, teasingly circling it.

“I can see you clenching,” he muttered between harsh sucks at your pearl. “Do you long to be filled, Lamb?”

Speech was difficult, but you managed to nod desperately your throat remembered how to make sound. “Y-yes!” You could hardly hear yourself over the roar in your ears as you chased that ascendant feeling building steadily in your gut. “P-please, Sanemi — I feel so…s-so empty —“

The Wolf seemed to be in a charitable mood, for he swiftly plunged two of his fingers into your core, burying them right down to the joint. Half a beat later, and Sanemi crooked those thick, calloused digits, fingertips massaging your inner walls until your thighs vibrated around his head, and his name left your mouth in a small shriek.

The Huntsman’s lips latched around your sensitive nub, alternating between sucking and licking, making you writhe against the furred pelts of the nest. The thumb of the hand working steadily at your entrance stretched up the length of your cunt, pressing firmly against your pearl and rotating in small circles, so he could continue to stimulate you even during those brief few seconds when his mouth would pull away from you so that he could swallow your juices like it was the finest nectar.

Your cries bounced off the walls of the cave den, the coil in your cut winding tight, your entire body shaking beneath the furious ministrations of Sanemi’s mouth against your cunt.

Sanemi’s head dipped down to plunge his tongue into your opening, right alongside his fingers and you came undone, the soft pelts beneath you disappearing as your body ascended high through the clouds of your pleasure.

Sanemi moaned as he drank from you, his free hand moving from your thigh to your hips to help you grind against his face, his eyes rolling back slightly as he savored your sweet taste.

Your dizzying high gradually guttered out, letting you drift softly back down against the pelts, your skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

The Huntsman imparted two, final licks against your hyper-sensitive folds before drawing back, his tongue running over his lips to collect the last traces of your juices that still lingered around his mouth.

“When we get home,” Sanemi’s voice was husky, as he brought the fingers he’d hand inside you to his mouth, his tongue carefully cleaning your essence from his digits. “You are to spend an entire day sitting upon my face while I feast. You will not move until I’ve had my fill.”

His vow made your stomach flutter and your mouth go dry. “You mean that was not enough?”

Sanemi’s answering grin was wolfish. “Not in the slightest, Lamb. You provoke a hunger in me that I fear cannot be sated.”

He leaned down over you, hand firmly cupping your jaw to part your lips as he slotted his mouth over you. His tongue slid into your mouth to caress yours, and you moaned at the musky, sweet taste of yourself still on his lips.

He broke the kiss with a wet smack. “So we shall start with a day and see how well you please me. If I am still unhappy, then you shall have to remain there until I am otherwise satisfied.”

“And what of my satisfaction, Wolf?” Sanemi’s grin only widened at your challenge. “So far, I’ve heard talk of only yours.”

The Huntsman’s fingers grazed your dampened slit, still so sensitive from what he’d done with his mouth that you hissed lightly, as he covered your body with his own.

“Have I not pleased you enough, sweetling? My sincerest apologies.” He mocked, rolling his clothed groin against your bare one. He dipped his head low, sucking one of your breasts into his mouth before kissing his way up your neck to your chin, stopping to let his lips just hover above yours. “We shall see if you’re still feeling so cheated once my cock is buried inside you, hm?”

The reminder of what was about to transpire in a matter of minutes as the sun dipped lower and lower below the horizon outside the cave stilled you, momentarily breaking through the lusty haze in your mind.

“Sanemi,” the seriousness in your tone drew the Huntsman to a halt, his eyes flicking to yours, his hands stilling.

You gulped. “It will hurt, will it not?”

Sanemi’s eyes softened, and his fingers began rubbing soothing circles into your skin, his touch gentle. “It will at first, yes.”

You nodded. “Do you think — can we start before moonrise?” Your hands found his and squeezed, pleadingly. “If it is going to hurt, I would prefer to do it before your heat sets in.”

Sanemi’s hand pulled away from your grasp to hold the side of your face, tilting your head until you had to meet his gaze.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sanemi’s fingers were delicate as they caressed the curve of your cheek. “You do not owe me anything; I would not dream of asking you to do anything you did not want.”

You parroted his touch by stroking a thumb softly over the scar that crossed his cheek. “I am certain that I want you, Wolf.” You leaned in and pressed your lips gently against his before pulling back. “I ask only because I want that moment to belong to you. Not as my mate, but as the man I’ve chosen to spend my days beside.”

“So please,” you entreated, pressing yourself closer against your Huntsman, your other hand toying with the faint trail of silver hair that spread across his bared pectorals. “Before you claim me as your mate, make me yours, Sanemi.”

The Huntsman’s breath was ragged. “All right, then,” one warm hand wrapped around your waist, its heat somehow burning through the layers of your skirts and shifts. “As you wish, Y/N.”

There was a beat as Sanemi nuzzled your nose with his. “But the cloak stays on.”

He chuckled at your small harrumph, quieting you with the sweetest of kisses, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Nice try,” he murmured against your lips, before rolling you beneath him.

Sanemi kissed his way down your body, a low growl vibrating in his chest as he neared your waiting core, but he held back, pulling off you to raise up on his feet, his hands coming to rest against the front laces of his breeches.

The Huntsman held your heated gaze as he slowly unlaced the leather cord securing his breeches. Without breaking the connection, Sanemi leisurely worked the soft deer hide down his hips and over his thighs, unveiling his toned lower abdominals and strong, muscular thighs.

Your eyes traced over every ridge and dip of the Huntsman’s nude body, cheeks growing hotter and hotter as your gaze dipped down lower.

There was that faint, silvery trail of hair that began just below his navel that had first made you view the Huntsman in a different light, all those days ago. That trail led down past his hips, right where the evidence of his desire stood proud, and waiting.

Sanemi’s manhood was thick and long, its tip level with his navel. It was a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, the head a pinkish color that seemed to grow deeper the longer you stared, as though sensing the events about to unfold and eager to move them along.

You’d seen him nude before, but this time was different. For now, Sanemi’s nakedness was about to belong to you as much as yours was to belong to him.

Sanemi turned slightly to the side to discard his breeches, placing them atop the many layers of your skirts and shift. From that angle, you spied a faint hump near the base of his length, almost imperceptible in the orange, flickering light of the cave, that you nearly mistook it for a trick of the shadows.

“Is that —?” Your voice faltered with your blush.

Sanemi’s answering smirk set off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. Though you’d seen him in a far more compromising position between your thighs, his beauty still had a habit of catching you off guard.

“Aye,” his voice was both silky and rough as he drew closer to you. “That will be my knot, once it fully forms.”

The Huntsman knelt down beside you on the soft pelts covering the den nest, lowering himself to graze his lips against yours. “But don’t worry about that right now, sweetling.” Sanemi then shifted so that he was hovering over you, a knee wedging between yours to help guide your legs open as he settled into the cradle of your thighs.

His lips ghosted against the side of your neck. “Just focus on me.”

You nodded, breath catching in your throat as his warm weight settled against you. You hissed at the feeling of the tip of his manhood brushing against your slick folds, a spark of pleasure jolting through you like a lightening bolt.

Above you, Sanemi ground his teeth, a tendon popping in his neck as he exhaled sharply. “Christ,” he ground out, repeating the sliding movement of his velvety head against your core. “I pray your cloak is enough, sweet girl. Because I don’t know how I’m going to hold back when you already feel this good.”

The mark on your neck pulsed with a simmering heat that only sent another gush of fluid between your legs. You mewled for him, fingers tugging lightly at his silver locks as you bucked your hips upwards, your body nearly thrumming with your need to be filled by the thick, searing length tracing up and down your folds.

Sanemi moaned. “Alright,” he said, exasperated but his voice shook. “Needy little thing.”

One hand skirted down the length of your thigh, gripping behind your knee to wrap your leg around his hips. The Huntsman’s other hand moved to grip the base of his manhood, lining it up with your entrance. Sanemi’s eyes lifted once to yours in silent question, and anticipation fluttered in your gut.

“Please,” was all you could say, breathy and desperate. “Please.”

As the head of his cock pushed into you, Sanemi rattled out a gasp, his eyes screwing tightly shut as he panted hard above you.

“L-lamb,” he stuttered even as he continued to breach your walls. “You’re so soft…so warm.”

You cried out at the way pleasure and a faint discomfort blended together into a pinching pressure as the Huntsman worked himself into you, his muscles trembling. The thick, blunt tip of his cock pushed against an inner barrier within you, and your belly clenched in anticipation as Sanemi paused the sinking of his hips into yours. His head dipped to the crook of your neck, right where he’d seared his claim into you, and he began to brush his lips against it, caressing the raised skin with his tongue.

The stimulation of your mark sent a flood of warmth trickling through you, relaxing your tensed limbs and allowing your body to open up to him — this Wolf, who was committed to making you his for good.

Your cry of discomfort melted into a deep moan of desire as your head tilted to the side, exposing more of your neck to the Wolf’s feverish mouth. With a growl of approval, Sanemi surged his hips forward and finally pushed past that thin, inner barrier, embedding himself to the hilt within your spasming walls. The flash of pain from his breach caused you to tense for a breath, your core pulsing at the intrusion. But then Sanemi’s fingers were there, working the nub between your legs to chase away any lingering discomfort as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, murmuring soft praises.

Pleasure bloomed beneath Sanemi’s skillful touch as the last of the burning subsided. Your breath eased as you relaxed in his embrace, shyly rolling your hips against his to signal you were ready for more.

He pulled back, eyes searching yours. “Are you alright, sweetling?”

Your hands clawed at his back, trying to press the Huntsman closer to you, despite the way your bodies were pressed flush together. “Y-yes,” you managed, your breath stuttering as Sanemi shifted above you, the movement stimulating a spark of heat between your legs.

“M-more, Sanemi,” you moaned, fingers digging into the grooves of the muscles of his shoulders. “Please, more.”

He nodded with a groan, an arm shifting to wrap around your waist to hold you up against him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Sanemi began to move, his hips rolling into yours and pushing his manhood deeper and deeper into you.

“Lie back, sweet Lamb,” he murmured in your ear as he rolled into you once more. “Let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t imagine how much better the Wolf was capable of making you feel than he was at that moment, with every lurid push of his length into your tight heat, but you weren’t about to question his abilities. With a quiet moan, you fell back away from him and against the soft pelts of the den nest, your arms dropping from his shoulders and coming to rest above you, against the furs.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sanemi’s gaze darkened as he beheld the way your position arched your lower back slightly, raising your peaked breasts higher up, your nipples stiff and desperate for stimulation. “You’re so good, little Lamb. So good for me.”

The Huntsman’s gentle praises made your thighs clench and warmth pool in your lower belly. Sanemi leaned forward with a sigh, running a hand up the length of your arm to grip one of your wrists to press it down into the nest. The other returned to your hip, angling you slightly in a way that allowed him to sink even deeper into your syrupy heat.

He lowered his head to wrap his lips around one of the sensitive buds of your breast, tugging it lightly between his teeth. “Gods, Lamb, you’ve no idea what you do to me,” he groaned. “It’s taking — fuck — everything in me not to tear this cloak off you and rut into you like the beast I am.”

You nearly whined at that, drawing upon every ounce of self control within you to not admit that was exactly what you wanted — Sanemi, unrestrained and utterly wild. You locked your ankles against his backside and used all the strength in your legs to push him into you, bucking your hips in tandem with his. “Sanemi, please, I need more —“

He answered with a pointed thrust of his hips, choking you off with a gasp.

“Is that so?” Sanemi’s breath was hot against your ear, and a shiver jolted down your spine at the faint growl that tinged his words. He shifted your legs so that they were wrapped higher around his hips, the fat of your backside resting against his sturdy thighs. “Then you better hold on tight, little Lamb.”

The Huntsman locked a muscled arm around your waist and moved his hand to grip both your wrists, pinning them above your head.

His lips crashed down against yours as Sanemi began to thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each push of his length into your spasming core as precise and fluid as the Huntsman had proved himself to be in the Wood. Only now, he was not faced with an opponent, but with something far more tantalizing — something he desired far more to dominate.

You.

And you were only happy to give into him, what with the way his cock charted previously unexplored places deep inside you, repeatedly brushing against spots that had your mouth falling open and stars appearing in the corners of your eyes.

Sanemi’s tongue slid into your mouth as his hands moved to arch your back further, your legs rising higher on his waist until they were locked just under his ribcage, the Huntsman bearing more of his weight down upon you and pressing you harder into his nest.

You pulled away from his lips, your breath ragged. “I - I f-feel,” you tried to babble, though your mouth struggled to form coherent words against the symphony of moans and whimpers that each push of Sanemi’s length into you dragged out.

Sanemi’s lips moved down your neck and danced across your throat. “How do you feel, Lamb?” He cooed, the tip of his incisor brushing against the hollow of your throat, his pace only increasing with every deep plunge of his length into your silken cavern.

Your eyes fluttered shut even as your eyebrows knit together, the knowledge of how to properly speak nothing more than a distant memory.

“F-full,” you managed to pant after a moment. “So — ah — full, Sanemi.”

Amidst the sounds of your breathy moans and Sanemi’s rugged pants and snarls, a pointed, wet schlick began to echo off the walls of the cave den as Sanemi continued to build his rhythm, his cock nearly pulling all the way out of your honeyed heat before he plunged it right back in, hitting you so deep, you wondered whether he might be able to touch your very soul.

Your moans grew louder as that familiar coil began to tighten behind your navel, just above where you felt the tip of Sanemi’s length begin to twitch within you.

Sanemi stuttered out a broken groan of your name. “My sweet, sweet girl —“

“I love you!” you gasped, the thick, pleasured fog in your head unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. “Ngh — I love you — fuck, Sanemi!”

The Huntsman only growled in response, his hands digging into your hips to pull you to meet his thrusts, his hips snapping faster against you.

Just outside the mouth of the den, the clouds parted and the moon’s silvery rays filtered through the small cracks in the earthen wall of the cave.

Sanemi’s thrusts stuttered as his body suddenly seized. His head was thrown back, the tendons and muscles in his neck rigid with strain, while his chest heaved, struggling to take a breath.

The fingers digging into your hips tightened and you cried out at the sharp prick of nails sinking into your soft flesh. At the sound of your voice, Sanemi’s hands pulled away to reveal fingers now with long, curved nails.

His claws.

A choked, strangled noise that was somewhere between a groan and a howl ripped from Sanemi’s throat as he shuddered violently above you. The tremors sent faint vibrations right to where the two of you were connected, sparking new yet short-lived waves of pleasure rippling through your core. you mewled at the loss of stimulation as the huntsman stilled once more, desperately wanting him to start moving again to ease the burgeoning friction between your legs.

Your hips involuntarily twitched up against his and Sanemi’s head snapped down, his attention now wholly focused on you, writhing below him.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes.

No longer did they reflect the soft lilac that you’d come to find comfort in; that regarded you with a curious gentleness that often contrasted with Sanemi’s gruff and scarred countenance.

Now, the eyes that watched you from above had faded to a startling silver that glowed nearly as bright as the fat moon which hung just outside the mouth of the den.

But his eyes were nothing compared to the fangs that had formed on both his upper and bottom rows of teeth.

Sanemi’s incisors had lengthened, the upper pair extending nearly to his lower lip. The teeth tapered out to sharp points, glistening in the moonlight with a promise of violence to anyone who might find themselves at their mercy.

He had warned you that it would be difficult to keep himself from shifting while he mated you, but you’d assumed that the presence of your cloak would keep him in his human form. It seemed, however, that the magical protection afforded by the Ruby red wool draped around your shoulders, still could not fully temper the beast within.

Especially when that beast was in the thick of his heat and claiming you as his mate.

Still embedded deep within your heat, apparently oblivious to the growing friction that caused you to squirm, Sanemi’s nostrils flared and his eyes dropped to the sides of your hips. His pupils contracted, a deadly glint igniting within his silver pools, as he beheld the thin rivulets of blood which had gathered and crested beneath the marks left behind by his claws.

A growl, low and dangerous built in his throat at the sight of the crimson, but the arm wrapped around your waist tightened in silent apology.

His free hand rose to cup your jaw and he squeezed, forcing your mouth to fall open. Sanemi leaned over you, his tongue falling out of his mouth where you could see he’d gathered some of his saliva, and he let it drip past your parted lips. You accepted the fluid, warm and slightly sweet, as it pooled in your mouth until all that connected his lips with yours was a single, clear string of saliva that broke as Sanemi spoke once more.

“Swallow,” his voice was gruff and tinged with an animalistic snarl.

You obeyed, and Sanemi huffed in approval, his eyes lowering once more to your sides, waiting.

The skin around the marks left behind by Sanemi’s claws grew warm and then tingled before the sensation quickly faded away. Curious, your hand fluttered to the outer curve of your right hip, fingers seeking out the tender, bleeding skin. With a soft gasp, you realized all that remained on your flesh were drying flakes of your blood.

Your eyes flew to Sanemi’s in surprise, and the wolf nodded.

His half-shifted form was apparently only able to speak a single word at a time. “Healed,” he confirmed, tongue darting out from between his lips to lick alongside your neck. “Healed.”

The huntsman’s nose moved to press flush against the soft spot beneath your ear, inhaling deeply. Your breath hitched at the sudden, light graze of his fangs against the curve of your collar bone, accompanied by a distinct wetness that pooled just beneath it.

Sanemi breathed into you again, his corresponding groan deep and possessive, and it occurred to you that in this half-shifted form, he was scenting you, needing to confirm that you were the one he’d marked; the one who was accepting his mating bond.

And your scent was making him drool.

“Mate,” he growled, dragging his nose down your neck to the hollow of your throat where your pulse thrummed. Your breath caught in your throat as the tip of one of his fangs grazed the delicate skin, and you realized it would take no effort for the wolf above you to pierce your neck and claim your life.

It would’ve frightened you, had you not realized that Sanemi was continuing to hold still above you. He remained that way, even though it was likely every instinct he had was screaming at him to move, to mark to, to claim you, especially when he was already sheathed deep within the sanctity of your walls. His restraint was palpable, given how he trembled, even as you felt his cock twitch within you, desperately seeking to fill and breed.

“Mate?” Came his snarl once more tinged by the faintest uncertainty as he awaited your response.

If you wanted him to stop, you had no doubt his will would overcome his base instincts, and he would pull away.

But you didn’t, and so you merely breathed, “Yes, wolf. I am your mate.”

A dark hum of approval rippled from Sanemi’s chest and he answered with a deep push of his hips. You gasped, hitching your legs higher on his waist and you swore it felt as though his cock had somehow grown hotter, thicker, as he began his rut.

But Sanemi in heat did not want your legs wrapped around him; he wanted you submissive, utterly at his mercy as he claimed you as his mate, and so, he flipped you to your hands and knees with a supernatural dexterity that left you breathless.

Clawed hands came to rest on your hips and dragged you back to him, carefully folding the hem of your cloak up and back to expose your rear end to the Wolf’s hungry gaze. One hand left to push against your upper back, pressing you into the soft pelts of the mating nest, while the other tilted your hips until your backside was in the air.

Your stomach clenched at the hot exhale of air that blew against your cunt, thighs squeezing together at the sound of Sanemi scenting you with a deep intake of breath.

“Pretty,” Sanemi marveled, the calloused pad of his index finger swiping along the slick folds of your core, causing your muscles to clench, desperate to be filled once more.

His voice took on a darker edge. “Mine.” He growled, and your head fell forward with a throaty moan as Sanemi’s tongue flattened against your folds for a strong lick.

His mouth only caused your essence to gush once more, and this pleased him, given the contented humming that sent vibrations rocking through you, loosening a desperate cry from your throat.

The sound of your desperation seemed to spark something in the wolf at your back, for Sanemi suddenly tore his mouth away from you and rose to his knees. You were about to turn to beg him to touch you again, when you felt the hot, leaking tip of his cock press into your entrance, slipping past that first ring of muscle before stilling.

Sanemi left his clawed hands on your hips and shifted his weight to let his knees knock your thighs together. Tilting your hips even more, Sanemi then rose up, the head of his cock still tucked safely inside you, and planted one foot on either side of your knees, coming to a squat.

And then, Sanemi began to fuck you once more.

Your thighs trembled beneath you as Sanemi’s cock stretched and filled you, reducing you to no more than a quivering puddle of your own arousal and desperate need to be claimed.

With every relentless push of his cock, with every pointed slap of his groin against your backside, you were reminded that at the end of this, there would be no part of you that remained wholly yours. Sanemi fucked himself into every crevice, every nerve that made up you, his cock chasing away anything that could not be marked by him.

You did not exist for yourself; you existed only for his pleasure and to take his knot.

“Mine,” Sanemi growled, over and over, with every bruising thrust into you, as the swelling base of his cock pressed closer and closer to your entrance.

He was too fast; Sanemi fucked into you at a pace so brutal, it was all you could do to continue holding your hips up, fingers desperately digging into the soft pelted blankets for purchase as every drive of the wolf’s hips made you bounce.

“Mine, mine, mine,” Sanemi chanted, each reminder punctuated by the possessive thrust of his cock into your drooling cunt, so forceful that you struggled to take a breath.

It felt like heaven.

“Yes,” you half-groaned, half-screamed into the fur below you. “Y-yours! Your mate!”

Your words only seemed to make him grow more feral and desperate, his hips snapping even harder against you as his engorged cock threatened to tear you apart from the inside, out.

One of his hands left your hip and you nearly whined, needing to feel him everywhere you couldn’t touch. You chanced a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see Sanemi raise his thumb to his mouth to bite the long, thick curved tip of his claw clean off. His thumb now resembling that of an ordinary man’s, Sanemi brought it right between your legs, pressing down against the series of nerves at the apex of your thighs that made you howl.

Even in the thick of his heat, your pleasure was his priority.

“Oh gods, oh gods,” your voice trembled in time with your body as the pressure in your navel built, much faster than it had before, the walls of your cunt fluttering harder around the thick, bulbous length of the wolf bent over your back. “Sanemi!”

The wolf’s thumb swirled around your bud more insistently, his cock throbbing as he shoved it deeper and deeper into you. From your position on your knees, chest firmly smushed against the pelts of the den nest, you began to feel the soft furs lightly graze against the skin of your stomach, though the lower half of your body was largely still suspended above the ground.

Not even your mind-numbing pleasure could stymie your curiosity as your hand drifted down your abdomen until it met a hard, bulging lump that throbbed just below your navel.

A lump that pulsed in time with every vicious thrust of the wolf’s hips against your backside. With a strangled gasp you pressed down, palm cupping around the thick, protruding head of Sanemi’s cock from the outside as it battered you from within.

The pressure made Sanemi tip his head back, a pleasured snarl rumbling from deep within his chest. His hips stuttered once, causing his heavy, full balls to slap right against your swollen bead and you came undone.

The walls of your core seized around the Wolf’s cock with a dizzying force, your limbs locking up as a euphoric scream tore your throat raw, and tears sprang into your eyes. Your cunt pulsed around his length, a gush of your sticky pleasure surging forth to cost him and his groin, the scent mixing with the heady, thick musk that permeated the air of the den.

Your eyes strained as they rolled deeply back into your head, your brain only vaguely registering the way Sanemi inhaled deeply behind you, a cross between a whine and a groan falling from his lips.

Sanemi’s hips gave one final, mighty push of his cock deep into your womb before you felt a sudden explosion of hot, sticky warmth flood you as Sanemi’s own climax ruptured.

You felt his seed fill you, a stray bead just managing to eke out from where the two of you were joined to trickle teasingly down your inner thigh. You wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but Sanemi growled lowly at it, as though the single drop of his milky pleasure managing to evade capture within your tight warmth was something to mourn.

Several moments passed, and yet Sanemi’s length remained rigid and spurting inside you, only prolonging your own release. As he spilled, Sanemi’s hips lurched forward once more, somehow pushing his cock deeper into your core as it spasmed around him with the last fading waves of your pleasure. But that pleasure was quickly replaced by a burning stretch as something hot and hard and thick bumped up against your entrance.

With a grunt, Sanemi nudged it forward and the hardened gland slipped into your hole, eliciting a mix between a scream and a moan from you that was only muffled by the fur against which you’d buried your face.

His knot, you realized, as your walls tried to rebel against the intrusion and push it out. Your swollen, aching cunt, however, was no match against the heavy, bulbous weight of the plug determined to keep every bit of the hot seed still spurting from Sanemi’s cock locked deep within you.

Several more moments passed as you remained pinned beneath the Wolf, his knot locked snugly within your cunt as he sighed and mewled above you, his lips grazing the back of your neck and shoulders. As your womb began to feel slightly bloated from the volume of hot, viscous seed with which Sanemi filled you, you began to finally feel his cock soften, and the burning stretch of your walls around his knot started to lessen as it slowly shrunk.

As his knot finally ebbed, Sanemi’s cock slipped out, only a small trail of his seed behind it, trickling lightly down your thigh.

His chest pressed harder into your back and you both fell forward, collapsing against the soft pelts cushioning the floor of his den, panting.

Your cheeks were flushed a bright red and your eyes were glassy, every inch of you trembling from the intensity of your joining. To quiet the thunderous beat of your heart against your sternum, you concentrated on on the feeling of his seed, thick and heavy, as it sloshed within your womb.

Soft lips grazed your still-burning mating mark before they moved softly down your spine as Sanemi’s weight lifted from your back. Warm, gentle hands gripped your hips and eased you flat against the nest before turning you over, your body boneless beneath his touch.

Sanemi’s fingers brushed your hair from your face, his eyes full of concern as his hand caressed your cheek. “Are you okay, my lamb?”

It took a surprising amount of effort to remember how to nod your head, and enough time passed that Sanemi lurched over you, his eyes wide as a worried call of your name echoed over the roar in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you managed after a moment, your voice a faint warble as your hands searched for him, needing the warmth of his skin to bring you back down to earth. “I promise I’m okay.”

You took a deep breath and allowed your eyes to slide shut, your face turning to nuzzle deeper into his palm as it rest against your temple. Sanemi’s fingers continued to brush your hairline, over and over, in an effort to soothe you.

When you opened your eyes again, you felt steadier; more grounded. You finally met his worried gaze, his irises having faded back to that delicate lilac hue you loved rather than the glowing silver they’d been during your rut.

But as you shifted beneath him, you felt another gush of his seed leak out of you, and the way it trickled down the curve of your ass before pooling on the fur beneath you made your core pulse once more.

Sanemi’s eyes flickered silver as the embers of your arousal caught once more, and your thighs clenched in anticipation.

Your hand found the back of his neck and gripped it firm, tugging his head back down towards you until your lips nearly touched. Sanemi’s breath was warm and sweet as it fanned over your face. Slowly, your other hand trailed down his chest, savoring the way his muscles rippled and tensed beneath your soft caress.

Your fingers found his still-stiffened member and they closed around it, giving him one, strong pump.

“Again.” You ordered, and your thighs fell open, the full scent of your arousal mixed with the muskiness of his seed making Sanemi’s nostrils flare, his pupils narrowing to slits as he growled in reply.

—————

Hours passed, and the sun had long since risen and begun its descent in the west, but Sanemi’s heat had still not subsided.

The periods of Sanemi’s lucidity gradually grew in length with every small break between his knot finally subsiding and his heat reigniting. The last break had lasted long enough for Sanemi to bring you several strips of dried meat and a handful of dried fruit, along with a skien of water that he had to help hold to your lips as you slurped greedy mouthfuls of the cool, spring water. You hadn’t had much of an appetite, given the way your stomach seemed to bulge slightly from the amount of seed he’d already given you, but the Hunstman insisted, lecturing you briefly about the need to keep your energy — and stamina — at a consistent level.

You’d begrudgingly accepted his offerings, less so out of hunger and more so because of the way he’d pulled you against the sweat-slicked skin of his chest while you ate, his fingers tracing delicately up and down your spine as his lips peppered your forehead in gentle, reverent kisses.

But that had been at least two hours prior, and you were right back where you started: head thrown back and nonsensical babbling lilting from your mouth as Sanemi impaled you on his monstrous length, over and over, until you could not remember where you ended and he began.

To his credit, even Sanemi in heat tried to feed you his knot in new positions, still committed to ensuring that you got as much pleasure from the experience as he. The current position was the most toe-curling one yet, one that had Sanemi resting on his haunches, his back straight as he kept you perched atop his cock like a throne.

One clawed hand was splayed across your lower back, keeping you upright as the other stretched across your lower abdomen, hand pressing down against your navel so you could feel the bulbous head of his engorged cock rub against that spot at the front of your wall that made you forget your own name, even if you could not seem to forget his.

This position also allowed him to guide you up and down his length in time with his lurid, frenzied thrusts, which you supposed was a good thing, considering your legs had long since been reduced to jelly and were utterly useless.

You felt yourself growing more and more lightheaded the harder Sanemi continued to fuck himself into you, the pleasure wrought by each frantic, deep stroke of the Wolf’s thick length in and out threatening to overtake you entirely.

His seed was steadily squelching out of you with each impassioned thrust, running down your thighs and dampening the furs below you. you’d lost count of how many times he’d already given you his knot. Truthfully, you’d stopped counting around the third or fourth time, your body too concentrated on trying to simply keep up with the Huntsman’s insatiable stamina. Still, despite the exhaustion, your mouth managed to form only a single, coherent plea for more, a command the Wolf was only too happy to oblige

You were getting closer to that pinnacle again, a slew of whimpers falling from your mouth in time with each harsh drive of the wolf’s cock into your cunt. But despite the number of times Sanemi had brought you over the edge since this dance had begun, you felt as though this time, it would be different; more extreme. How could you not, given the way your own juices slid down your thighs, mixing with his essence as he fucked it both into and out of you?

Sanemi’s length was hardly pulling out of your sopping heat, so you felt the swelling at his base steadily growing larger and larger, and you knew his release was imminent. You tried to tighten your arms around his neck, a high-pitched whine keening from your throat as your head fell back.

The Wolf bent low and sucked one of your aching breasts into his mouth, his teeth adding new reddish-purple marks to the fatty flesh that his tongue worked to quickly soothe. A graze of his fangs against your nipple sent another gush of fluid rushing from your core, followed by a wanton moan as you arced your back, pressing your breasts harder into his face.

You felt your walls begin to tighten around his rocky length once more, and your pearl brushed against the swollen hub of the enlarged gland at the base of his cock.

With a final jolt of his hips upwards, Sanemi’s knot pressed flush against the apex of your thighs and sent you catapulting into the burning fire of your climax once more, your body seizing as your vision faded white. There was only a faint ringing in your ears as you felt yourself floating along clouds that matched the precise hue of your Huntsman’s hair, and you let yourself be utterly lost among the pleasure that was Sanemi.

You were content to remain amidst that departed bliss, your body weightless and your mind empty, but the Wolf still embedded deep within your cunt was not.

Your rapture was disrupted by a faint pressure between your thighs, just against that nub Sanemi had shown you was sacred to him. That pressure grew, your limbs no longer floating but stiffening, tensing as something warm and calloused pinched more insistently at your pearl.

With a keening cry, you plummeted out of the clouds of mindless bliss you’d ascended to and right back down to earth, to that cave den where Sanemi had you draped over his thighs, one clawed hand supporting the middle of your back to keep you upright as the other furiously worked between your legs.

Tears of pleasure so intense leaked from the corners of your eyes as you deduced that the Wolf rutting into you had forced you back to consciousness with yet another climax, this one just as powerful as the previous. Though, now, instead of your vision fading to white, a rush of your own fluids surged forth and coated the Huntsman’s groin, wetting down the coarse, silvery hairs that surrounded his cock.

Sanemi’s nostrils flared at the scent of your pleasure as it soaked him. With something more akin to a roar than a groan or a shout, Sanemi’s cock erupted within you, his hot seed shooting so deep, you swore you could taste it — him — at the back of your throat.

Had you been capable of speech, you would have tried to tell him you could not possibly be expected to hold anymore of his pleasure — not when you’d already taken more loads of it than you could count, not when it felt as though his seed had replaced every trace of blood within your body, so coating everything inside that made you you to instead make his. But you weren’t; not when your tongue was half-lolled out of your mouth, not when your eyes had rolled so far back into your skull, you’d wondered whether they might become stuck there.

And even if you could have spoken, it wouldn’t have mattered. For the moment Sanemi’s cock ceased twitching inside you once more, you felt felt his hips surge up and in, felt that hard, bulbous knot slip right into your core with far more ease than it had earlier in the night, ensuring that not a single drop of Sanemi’s pleasure could leak out of where he’d just unloaded it within you once more.

Not that you would want it to be anywhere else, anyways; not when it was so warm, so comforting as it sloshed around inside your womb, making you feel a fullness not even the most decadent of meals could impart.

Somehow, still, you wanted more; needed it. Needed him.

You continued to float as you took the Wolf’s knot twice more, your brain little more than liquid and your senses too dull to perceive anything that wasn’t him. Distantly, you felt him tense and heard his soft groan, quieter than any noise he’d made since first claiming you all those hours ago, and his dwindling knot lodged into your entrance one final time.

The two of you breathed heavily for a moment, you folded half against the cave wall, sandwiched between cool rock and Sanemi’s solid warmth. Dazedly, you realized Sanemi had called your name, his voice barely a hoarse whisper.

Blinking, your eyes blearily opened to meet a pair of lilac — not silver — irises hovering above your own.

Sanemi’s face was flushed, but his human features had returned, with not a trace of those elongated fangs or pointed ears left.

A sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the ends of his snowy hair to a dark silver. Sanemi kept himself braced above you, his muscles rippling in the dim, fading light of the small fire feebly flickering within the cave. From your spot below him on the pelts, your eyes traced a bead of sweat that rolled down his neck and over one of his scarred pectorals.

“You cannot possibly take anything more from me.” He panted, and to your amusement, he almost looked alarmed as his eyes roamed your equally flushed and sweaty form spread out below him.

You smiled serenely up at the Huntsman — your mate.

“I can take whatever it is you want to give me, Wolf.”

Sanemi groaned loudly as he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth.

“I have nothing left to give you, woman. My heat has ended,” his eyebrows raised. “Even if yours, apparently, hasn’t.”

Between your legs felt sticky and gooey with the remnants of Sanemi’s heat slowly leaking forth and mixing with the fluid drying on your thighs. But despite the slightly uncomfortable sensation of the Huntsman’s copious seed beginning to dry where it crusted on your skin, you smirked at him nonetheless as he laid out beside you with a heavy sigh.

“So I am a Wolf, then? If you think I am in heat, that is.”

“I think you are the most insatiable devil ever to grace the Wood,” Sanemi countered exasperatedly. “And I think you may be the death of me.”

You giggled as the Huntsman helped ease you down from where he’d pinned you against the wall, his hands gently guiding you to your side against him as the two of you laid down upon the furs.

Your head nestled into the crevice in the middle of his chest, your cheek pressed flush against his sternum, the steady beat of his heart a lullaby that threatened to bring sleep fast and soon.

“You said something earlier,” Sanemi said gently. “Just before I —“

Your eyes flew open, a faint blush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you recalled your words, cried out just before the moon had triggered Sanemi’s partial transformation.

I love you!

“Where are you going?” Warm fingers caught you beneath your chin, preventing you from burying your face against his chest in your effort to hide away.

Your head was turned up, and your eyes met that warm, lilac gaze. “Don’t hide from me, my Lamb.”

“Pretend I said nothing,” you squeaked, eyes dropping. “It does not have to mean anything.”

Sanemi’s other hand dropped to the mark branded into the juncture of your neck. At the first brush of his gentle yet strong fingers against the mark’s curvature, a warmth flooded through you, your teeth sinking into your lip to prevent you from purring at the contact.

“I did mark you, you know,” he smiled softly. “Bound myself to you for life, even if you decided to reject me.”

His smile faded slightly, his eyes earnest. “I would not have done that if I didn’t care for you — deeply.”

Sanemi’s lips pursed in thought. “If I did not love you, too.”

And though you had just spent the last day and a half allowing him to bend and twist you into positions that had you sobbing for him, the Huntsman’s words made your heart flutter like a bird.

“From this day forward,” you whispered, taking Sanemi’s hand in yours and pressing the tips of his fingers against your lips. “Wherever you go, I wish to follow.”

“You say that as though there was a chance you wouldn’t; as though you’d ever willingly leave me in peace.” He brushed a kiss against the top of your nose and his voice quieted. “As though I’d have it any other way.”

You answered his soft smile with one of your own, leaning up to slant your mouth over his. Sanemi’s lips parted easily for yours, your tongue sliding into his mouth to languidly dance with his, your hand snaking up his chest to hold the side of his neck.

The Huntsman growled softly into your kiss, an arm tightening around your waist as he pressed your nude body flush against his own.

“My heat may be over,” he said huskily against your mouth as he broke away to catch his breath. “But the fire you’ve lit within me still rages hot, little Lamb.”

You mewled as you traced your lips down, gliding over a scarred pectoral to take his pert little nipple into your mouth, your tongue swirling softly around it as Sanemi moaned.

“You’ve taken me as a wolf, Hunstman,” you purred, your hand sliding down his chiseled torso to where his cock had begun to stir once more. “Now I want you to take me as a man.”

With a low growl, Sanemi’s hands seized around your waist and flipped you over, laying you out on your back atop him, body pressed flush against his.

“Who am I to deny my mate?” His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, and one hand snaked around to your front to gently squeeze the sides of your throat.

“But since I’m taking you as a man, then I suppose you are no longer a Lamb, which means you no longer need this.” Sanemi’s fingers dropped to the collar of your cloak where it was still draped around your shoulders.

“And as fond as I am of your little red riding hood, I’m no longer concerned with being held back, sweetling.”

He flung the ruby cloak into a far corner of the cave before sliding his hand under you to position his cock between your legs, his tip already leaking as it pressed against your entrance.

His other arm looped through yours, pulling them back and pinning them against his chest, before he gave a great thrust up, sheathing himself to the hilt within your ready and eager walls.

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as Sanemi nipped at the side of your neck, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate his thrusts up from below.

“Let’s see how much more of me you can take now, little Red.”

—

SOMEWHERE IN THE NETHERWOOD

The silent, still trees of the Netherwood were helpless against the icy mist that rolled in from the foothills of the tiny, isolated village at its borders.

Though the forest had always been a void where sound and sunlight went to die, the mist heralded forth an unnerving stillness, so that not even a brave little songbird risked fluttering its wings. Even the shadows seemed to recoil as the source of the mist slunk through the ancient Wood, the most fearsome of its residents cowering away from the sinister intruder.

A figure emerged from the icy fog. Though the sun had long since set, the traveler needed no lantern or torch; his eyes, an unsettling kaleidoscope of colors, saw easily through the dark, the Wood unable to keep its secrets hidden from his hungry gaze.

It was quite a lovely night, the figure mused. A cool, late autumn evening with air so crisp it could only mean snow was imminent.

And snow made it much easier to track his prey.

Not that he was having much difficulty to begin with; after all, the girl’s noble attempt to muddy her own scent only made the chase that much more fun for the creature prowling through the Netherwood. Especially since the girl’s actions would lead him to a far bigger — far tastier, prize.

He smiled fondly to himself. He hadn’t imagined that the scrappy village girl would have ever made this game of his so interesting, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to be capable of serving him the feast he now tracked through the Wood.

He would still dispose of her the same way as the others, just as he planned. It did not matter to him that she’d already tainted herself by allowing a Wolf to mate her. In fact, the figure mused as he licked the remaining blood from his last his meal from his fingers, he hoped that the Wolf’s attempt to breed the succulent little human had been successful.

Mortal women and girls were far more satisfying than any other prey, with the way their bodies stored fat and held onto nutrients in preparation for child bearing. But a human woman carrying a Wolf’s pups? His mouth watered at the thought as he shuddered with delight.

But even if she was not carrying the fruits of the Wolf’s seed, it wouldn’t matter; she would still sate both his appetites.

And then there was the Wolf himself.

For the Wolf was the creature’s true target; the fat goose he hadn’t expected to find when he broke into the hen’s house in search for a new bride to claim.

The creature suppressed the primal, longing growl that bubbled up in his chest as he imagined how it would feel to sink his teeth into the furred flesh of the cursed Wolf, and how it would feel to swallow his mouthfuls of power and boundless strength.

His stomach growled at the thought, though he’d just feasted on a little girl he’d snatched from her parents’ bed as he’d waded into the Netherwood. She’d been bony and small, likely barely pubescent, but he’d been in need of nourishment before embarking on the long journey ahead. And, she’d been unbroken, and while he was not someone to care as much about such trivial matters, he couldn’t deny that it did feel so much better when they were untouched and untainted.

But she would do for now, as she rested in his belly. She could hold him over until he decided it was time to set his plan in motion, and his daring, rebellious little Y/N led him straight to the wolves’ den.

And Lord Douma knew how to be patient. And so, he would wait.

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