#thank you so much for the prompt and your patience! i really hope you like what i came up with <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tasteleeknow · 1 year

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ZIPPER

PAIRING: minho x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. established relationship. CONTENT: 18+ only. shy reader. marking. desperation. mutual obsession. unprotected intercourse. biting. body worship. overstimulation. mention of violence. oral (m. rec). WORD COUNT: 4.3k

NOTE: yeah it’s my birthday tomorrow and i wrote this as a gift to myself. @lino-nyangi and @tasteracha encouraged this. no other comment at this time.

SUMMARY: when your boyfriend asks you what you want for your birthday, only one thing comes to mind. you want to dress him in an outfit of your choosing.

PART ONE | DRABBLE: SWEAT | PART TWO

You’re backed up against the wall when the door opens, mentally preparing yourself for seeing him in the outfit you’d picked out. He’d laughed as you’d explained what you wanted for your birthday, eyes on the floor at the embarrassment of it all. You wanted to go out and pick an outfit and have him wear it for you. He only ever wore baggy pants, t-shirts and hoodies. You love him in whatever he wore but he never showed off all the work he’d put in at the gym. Despite his relentless teasing at your request, he’d agreed. Of course he agreed. He always did. He might act like everything was the biggest inconvenience he’d ever faced in his life, but he hadn’t turned you down once since you’d been together. You’d learned that’s just how he was. He never wanted anyone to know how much he cared.

He looks up at you the moment the bedroom door shuts behind him, tugging his pants up his waist a little. You press your lips together as he looks at you expectantly.

“Well?” he prompts.

You say nothing, taking in the sight of him in the tight, black, short sleeve shirt. It clings to him just like you’d imagined. He’d whined and thrown his head back as you’d measured him a few weeks earlier, slipping the measuring tape around his bare chest and then around his biceps. You wanted to get this right. He’d made you give him a back massage in return for all his saintly patience. It was worth it now you’re taking in the results. Your eyes trail down his matching black pants to his big black boots, you can't make yourself regret the money you’d spent on them: despite it being the most you’d spent on shoes in a long time. Your cheeks warm as you fail to meet his eyes again, keeping your gaze on his boots as he makes his way over to you.

“No comment?” he questions. You can hear the smirk in his voice. He was in his comfort zone, despite the clothes unlike anything he’d tried before. You had always been a little timid, overwhelmed easily. He approached the world very differently, self assured and confident. Only the people closest to him ever got to know his weak points, his soft centre and secret insecurities.

He tilts your chin up when he reaches you, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Disappointed?” he asks, well aware you weren’t. You knew he enjoyed it when you got shy, it boosted his ego.

“It’s pretty.”

He grins, tracing his finger down your neck to your clavicle. “That’s it?”

Your eyes drop to the zipper running down his chest. “You look nice. You look… better than I imagined. Thank you,” you say, offering him a small smile.

“This is all you wanted? For me to put some clothes on? I was hoping to spend the day without any at all.”

That’s how he’d asked to spend his birthday; locked in your bedroom until you’d been so exhausted you’d both passed out. “You think your dick is a gift?” you question.

His hand moves to your throat, fingers resting gently against your skin. “Only because you whine my name so sweetly when it’s inside you,” he answers, one corner of his mouth pulling up slightly as his eyes drop to your lips. He was lucky his ego only made him hotter. Still, it was fun to tease him.

“You think it’s special? A dick is a dick.”

His finger presses a little into your skin as he moves a little closer. “Oh, really?” he asks sweetly, a little condescension in his tone. “Is that why you get all shy on me? Even after living together for a year? Hm?”

“That’s just how I am.”

He shakes his head slightly, lips ghosting over yours. “I don’t think so, baby. I think it’s worse with me. I think you get all shy because you’re obsessed with me…” his lips brush yours as he speaks, breath tickling your skin. “Isn’t that right?”

You’re struggling to focus on his words, head tilting forward a little in an attempt to capture his lips. He only pulls away, keeping you pressed to the wall easily. “Answer me,” he whispers.

You blink as you attempt to regain your senses, reaching up to take his hand from your throat and intertwining your fingers instead. You find yourself staring at his lips again, watching as he huffs out a short breathy laugh. “Why’d you want me to wear this, hm? Can you answer that?” he asks.

Your eyes drop to the zip running down his chest. It feels involuntary and your eyes flick back up to his face so quick you’re hardly aware of the action yourself. He notices anyway, his lips pulling into a self-satisfied smirk. He reaches up to tug the zipper a little, moving it up and down slightly as he watches your expression. He lifts the hand intertwined with yours, pressing the back of your hand into the wall above your head. You’ve completely lost control of your breathing, uneven and much heavier than normal. You were easy to read. A stranger would be able to read your thoughts, but Minho? He knew you better than anyone else alive. You may as well have been screaming your internal commentary in his face.

“You wanna do it for me, baby? Tug it down a little?” he asks sweetly, lips hovering over yours again. When you lean forward, he doesn’t pull away this time, letting you press a little of your desperation into him. He hardly reacts, keeping your hand above your head as you moan against his lips. Your other hand moves to the back of his head, an attempt to ensure he doesn’t move away from you again until you're satisfied. It’s silly, the idea that you’d ever be satisfied, that you’ll at some point have had enough of him. You imagine pulling back, tapping him on the shoulder and announcing you’re all done. You giggle against his mouth.

“What?” he asks.

“I think you’re right,” you answer, a little breathless already.

“Mm?”

You don’t answer, attempting to pull him back towards you again instead. He takes your other hand in response, pinning you against the wall completely. “Right about what?” he asks, unsatisfied with your lack of response. He knows what you meant. You know he knows. He just wanted you to say it.

“What you said before,” you mutter, keeping your eyes off his own.

“I think you should say it,” he grins. “Say it and I’ll let you take over. I’ll let you unzip me.”

You can’t help looking into his eyes, big and brown as he waits for you to confess. If only he knew why you were so hesitant to say it. Sure, it was embarrassing. But it was more than that. You’d always felt a little like you loved him more. You were okay with it, or… you’d thought you were anyway. He loved you enough to stay, and that should have been enough. But confessing it to his face? Confessing that you felt like you were practically obsessed with him in a way he couldn’t possibly return? Your heart thumps hard against your chest at the thought of it.

His lips press to your forehead as your mind races, hands still held above your head. “I know it,” he whispers. “Whether you say it or not. That’s one of the things… one of the things I love. I fucking know it all, baby. You can’t hide from me.”

The way he’s leaning over you now causes the silver zipper to dangle directly in front of your face. You're sick of all this talk, especially when he’s dressed like this. With your hands occupied there’s only one plan of action that fills your mind. You duck a little, avoiding his head as you lean forward and catch the cold, silver zipper between your teeth. His chest moves with his laughter, then you’re tugging, pulling it down until a large portion of his chest is free. When you lean back again you don’t even look up at his face, eyes taking in the newly visible section of his smooth chest. You hadn’t been fighting him at all so far. You never did, letting him pin you to walls, to mattresses, move you around whichever way he pleased. It was your dynamic.

That’s why he isn’t expecting it, when you tug your hands free and practically lunge at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughs as he stumbles back a step. Then he’s turning you around so he can use the wall as support while you climb him. Your lips are on his neck before his back has hit the wall, attempting to suck marks into his skin. He was usually the one doing it to you: marking you. He liked pulling your scarf down a little as you waited for the bus, inspecting some of the hickies he’d left on you the night before. “Okay, you like the clothes,” he laughs. “I get it.” His hands support your thighs as you cling to him.

He’s quiet as you work, even when you begin nipping at his skin. It’s satisfying, sucking and biting at him. You should do this more often, you tell yourself. When you tug the shirt aside a little to bite gently into his shoulder he drops his head back against the wall with a small thud. It spurs you on, completing the same treatment to the other side before dropping your legs back to the floor.

His chest has flushed a little since you climbed him, a pretty red colour starting at his neck and disappearing into his shirt. You press your hand to the centre of his chest as he lifts his head from the wall and looks down at you with a small slightly dazed smile. A single strand of hair falls across his forehead. You’d helped him style his hair before leaving him to get dressed. He rarely wore it up like this, off his forehead.

“I meant I’m obsessed with you,” you confess before you can overthink it, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. “When I said you were right. I meant about me being obsessed.”

His grin widens as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. “Yeah?”

You nod, tracing your finger down his nose and then over his lips, ending at his chin. “Don’t hurt me, please,” you whisper, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. He knew the power he had now.

“Why would I do that?” he asks, looking genuinely puzzled.

You shrug. “You might stop liking me.”

“No,” he answers simply.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “You wanna go grab a knife and stab me in the leg and then ask me if I still like you?”

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Good, that’d hurt.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, interlocking your fingers. “You’re stupid.”

“Is it embarrassing? To be obsessed with someone so stupid?”

“Yes.”

He grins. “You better stop then.”

Your eyes flick across his face. “I can’t.”

His smile softens a little before falling off his face completely. He suddenly looks serious, almost solemn. It catches you off guard. Before you can question him he’s tugging your mouth to his, distracting you with his soft lips. It works like a mind wiping spell, lulling you into a blissed out state that only breaks when he finally releases you.

Your finger brushes his zipper, reminding you of the clothes he was wearing. You take a small step back so you can take in the sight of him again. His chest is still a little red and you can just make out the marks you’ve left all over his neck. You want to make more.

He’s still as you move in again and tug the zipper down a little more. You move slowly, wanting to savour it. Your mind drifts to when you can ask him to wear it again. Anytime, you remind yourself. You could count the time’s he’d refused something you’d asked of him on one hand. You press your palms to his chest, sliding them into his shirt until you brush over his nipples. He’s warm, despite the low temperature of the apartment. You drop your head to his shoulder, hands slipping around his sides to rest on his back.

“I’m being very patient,” he says after a moment. “Are you going to keep feeling me up for another hour?”

“It’s my birthday.”

He sighs dramatically. You lift your head so you can see his face. “Is it really that bad?” you ask.

His lips press together into a straight line and two little lumps appear at the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers, unconvincingly. You pull your hands from his shirt and take a small step back.

“Alright, I’ll stop then.”

He reaches for the zipper and tugs it all the way down, letting each side of the shirt fall open. “It’s your birthday,” he says. “So I'll let you continue.”

“No, no. I don’t wanna do anything you’re not enjoying.” You nod towards the kitchen. “You hungry?”

He steps towards you. “Continue,” he demands, no room in his tone for argument.

You wait a moment, letting him fret. Then you move. You nudge him back into the wall with a palm to his chest then trail your fingers from his collar bones down to the waistband of his pants, then back up again. You could lose yourself in this, touching him. Now that you’ve said it, confessed to him how you feel, it feels less heavy. It feels natural even. How could you not feel that way? When he made you laugh like he did… when he looked like this…

You find yourself pressing your lips to his pec, hand gripping his bicep to balance you as you trail messy kisses down his torso. You stop occasionally to leave marks, from sucking, biting, any mark you can leave against his skin feels like an accomplishment. This is mine, they say. Minho doesn’t seem to mind, one of his arms tanging in your hair at some point.

You eventually end up on your knees, looking up at him for permission as you play with another zipper, the one on his pants. “You haven’t marked me up enough?” he asks, his tone a little condescending again. You fucking loved when he spoke like that. His tone so sickly sweet and still so full of ego.

You shake your head and he reaches down, tugging his zipper down and dropping his pants before you can react. You can see him through his underwear, begging to be freed. He twitches a little as you brush over him when reaching for the waistband. Then you pause. His hips push off the wall when you take your hands away. You don’t look up, dropping your eyes to his thighs instead. Just a few marks, you tell yourself before attaching your lips to his skin. You start with his inner thighs, kissing and sucking your way up to the hem of his underwear where they wrap around the tops of his thighs. This wasn’t new to you. Just the other week you’d given him this treatment at the side of the salt water pool as he’d dangled his legs in the water. You’d taken in the sight of his swim shorts stuck to his skin, wet from his swim, and found yourself practically worshipping him—standing in the water between his legs as you kissed over his thighs.

By the time you finally tug his underwear down his legs, you can tell he’s close to snapping, to taking control. He wasn’t used to letting you have your way for this long. But then you’re kissing his tip, tasting the precum that leaks from his slit, and he forgets his impatience—a small gasp escaping his lips. His thighs are where you rest your hands. You can feel every tense of his muscles like this. You’re just preparing to sink down the length of him when he’s suddenly tugging you back and falling over you, pressing you into the floorboards. His mouth is on yours before you even process where you find yourself: on your back on your living room floor. He’s clearly had enough. The zipper on his shirt tickles your skin where your tank top rides up your stomach.

“Want me inside now? Tell me,” he says, barely pulling his lips from yours long enough to get the words out.

You hum in response, pushing at his chest until he detaches from you. “On your back,” you gasp. His brows pull a little together in confusion. He was rarely under you. Still, he obeys, settling himself on the floor beside you.

His pants are bunched around his calves, too difficult to remove with his boots still on. You kinda of like the idea of it, of him being inhibited a little. He’s a little vulnerable like this. Usually you loved the dynamic you had, his dominant role in bed making you feel protected and wanted. But something had burst free along with the confession of the depth of your feelings. You hadn’t realised you’d been holding anything else back. Not until now. You tug your cotton shorts down your legs and climb over him, pressing your palms to his chest as you settle yourself on his thighs. The open shirt frames his chest and biceps perfectly. You’re only running your hands over him for 30 seconds or so before he’s whining.

“Enough. Take me inside now.”

“It’s my birthday. Not yours.”

“You haven’t fondled me enough?”

You scrunch your nose, huffing out a small laugh. “Fondled?”

He gestures to where your palms rest over his pecs. “What else would you call this?”

“Admiring.”

He rolls his eyes. “You haven’t admired me enough?”

You shake your head, smiling. “No.”

“Get on with it then,” he says, a little strain in his voice.

You flick your eyes down to his cock. It’s twitching a little against his stomach. You brush your fingers up the length of him, fascinated. He grabs your wrist before you reach the head. “Don’t touch unless you want this to end.”

You stick out your bottom lip a little. “But it’s my birthday.”

He releases you. “Fine, you want me to cum on my stomach? Go ahead.” It did sound nice, seeing him lose it all over himself before you’d even fucked him. But he was right. You wanted him to fill you. You take him in your grasp and lift your hips off him so you can shuffle forward a little until your entrance rests over the tip. You take in the sight of him one last time, his flushed chest, his hair–a little messier than when you’d started—, the way the black shirt frames his biceps. Then you lower yourself, holding your breath as he stretches you out. His hips rise off the floor a little, like he can’t wait the few seconds it takes you to sink to his base.

You both still when you’re full, taking in the feeling of being as close to each other as it was possible to be. It’s the first time he’s been inside you since your confession. It feels freeing. Like you can let loose completely, let your mind slip and your body take over; hold nothing back. His lips part as you begin lifting yourself off him and sinking down again, slow at first.

You can’t help resuming where you’d left off, pressing your palms to his chest and admiring the way his pinkish skin looks between your fingers.

It isn’t long before his instincts take over, grasping your hips so he can move you to meet his hips as he thrusts up into you. You take in his expression as he uses you, rutting up into you. He was desperate much quicker than usual. He really hadn’t been lying. He must’ve been close to losing it before you’d even begun.

You watch his ears redden to match his chest and his lips. You fall forward to kiss him as he continues moving inside you. You keep your lips on his even as he loses focus, unable to match your kisses. You swallow down the noises he makes, the groans, the tiny sounds that almost sound like whimpers. It’s in moments like this that you feel maybe it’s possible he feels almost as intensely as you do. But then you remind yourself he’s just feeling good physically. That he could feel this way with anyone.

His eyes flutter closed as he stills. He hasn’t cum yet. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again. You can’t resist sitting back and lifting off him before sinking back down slowly, watching his expression as he tries to prevent himself from filling you. “Stop,” he gasps. “Fuck, stop.” You do.

You wait for him to catch his breath, chest rising and falling deeply. His ears are still pink and you resist the urge to lean forward and bite one of them.

“Why…” he starts, before pausing and taking one more deep breath. “Why are you doing this to me?”

You frown. “Doing what?”

He sits up, cock still buried inside you as he grasps the hair at the back of your head. His eyes flick over your face as his mouth opens and closes, like he’s struggling to find the words he wants to say. You’re unused to him being lost for words. It’s a little unsettling. Something must be wrong.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snaps.

You attempt to wipe any expression from your face, waiting for whatever this was to pass. One minute you’re riding him on your living room floor, ready to feel him fill you with his cum. The next you’re attempting to dissect whatever the fuck he was attempting to say right now.

“We started living together a year ago today,” he says.

“...yes.”

“A year…” he repeats, almost like he’s talking to himself this time.

“Is something wrong?”

“I thought it’d pass,” he mutters.

“What would?” you ask, tucking a little hair behind his ear.

“Feeling like this. All fucking itchy and… desperate. Like if I let go of you or leave the apartment, you’ll just… disappear.”

You frown, attempting to process what he was saying. He almost sounded angry. Like you’d done something wrong. Or he had? His eyes flick across your face and then he sighs, releasing his grasp on your hair and falling down onto his back again.

You lay yourself down onto his chest, his cock slipping out of you in the process. “You don’t wanna live together anymore?” you ask.

His hands move to grab at your hips, attempting to lift you up again. You let him align his cock with your entrance before sinking back down. You resume your position over his chest, cradling his face in your palms. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before looking at you again. “I wanna live here,” he breathes. “Right fucking here. Buried inside you like this.”

“You’re confusing me.”

He grunts as he pins you to his chest with his arms and fucks up into you hard. “Need it,” he mutters between thrusts. “Fucking need you.”

“You have me,” you soothe. “I told you I was fucking obsessed with you. You have me.”

He sighs, expression relaxing as he rolls his cock into you. It catches you by surprise when he suddenly lets out a drawn out moan and fills you, hips stuttering into you. Something about the way he finishes, the words it had taken to finally push him over the edge. It clicks into place, what he was trying to say. He feels the same. You sit back, watching him attempt to catch his breath as you start bouncing on him. His eyes flutter open as a high whine escapes his throat. You’d never done this before, kept using him after he’d finished. He’s clearly unprepared, throwing his arm over his eyes as his hips rise weakly off the floor. You practically shake as you cum, clenching around his sensitive cock and falling forward onto his chest.

“Fuck,” he gasps out.

His blushed ear catches your eye and you muster just enough energy to take it between your teeth briefly.

“Say it,” you murmur once you release him. “Say what you mean.”

His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest, now sticky with sweat. “Do I need to say it?” he says, completely breathless.

“It’s my birthday,” you whisper.

His hands move to your head, lifting your face from his neck. “I love you,” he says, “It scares me how much.”

You’re pretty sure you understand him. That he meant something different to the previous time’s he’d said he loved you. There was something about his voice, a tiny wobble in the final syllable that convinced you maybe you weren’t alone in this.

“We’re keeping the shirt,” you say, offering him a small smile.

He laughs, letting you fall back into his shoulder. “I dunno if I can survive what it does to you.”

“You can pick an outfit for me?” you offer.

He’s quiet and it isn’t until you’ve both fully caught your breaths that he speaks again. “Anything?”

You lift your head and peck him on the lips. “Anything.”

He smiles.

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youneedsomeprompts · 5 months

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~ IT'S FATE, RIGHT? ~ ARRANGED MARRIAGE PROMPTS

requested by: various anons requests: see full requests at the end of the post

Feel free to use and reblog!

Part 1 (kinda): 10 marriage of convenience prompts

Setting/action:

#1 - freaking out briefly every morning when they realise they're sharing the house with their newlywed spouse #2 - finding out new quirks of the other with great fascination #3 - trying to willingly make the other a part of their daily habits #4 - getting that strange feeling in their belly whenever they introduce the other as their "spouse" #5 - being awkward around each other because they don't know how polite or how casual they should be #6 - being nervous because how do you do the married thing? #7 - slowly but surely growing fond of the other #8 - getting used to the other's company and being completely thrown when they're suddenly in a situation on their own #9 - making time to have dates to get to know the other better because you should know your spouse, right? (there's absolutely nothing romantic about it, alright?) #10 - biting their tongue because somehow everything they say comes out as flirty and that's not who they are, right?

Dialogue:

#11 - "We have to be married, but we don't have to pretend we are that lovey-dovey newlyweds when we're clearly not." "I'm just trying to be nice." #12 - "You... look pretty." "Really? You never said that before." "Well, then certainly I was blind." #13 - "Wow, you're actually really fun to be around." "Well, and you really have to work on your compliment skills." #14 - "You don't know how glad I am that fate brought us together. This is much more pleasant than I had thought." #15 - "I think we're doing this pretty well. I am certainly glad to have you by my side while figuring out all this being married stuff." #16 - "Who would have thought we would end up like this?" #17 - "Thank you for being so patient with me." "How I see it, marriage isn't about intense feelings and going all in for one particular moment. It's about making a promise for the future and every day to come to stick it out together and be each other's backbone. What is marriage if not patience?" #18 - "May I ask you something? Why me? It's certainly not because you were madly in love with me. So, why me?" #19 - "We're the bestest of teams, aren't we? Unstoppable! The ultimate duo!" #20 - "Even though this was meant to be a rational affair and just a wise deal, you changed my life. Marrying you was both the best and the most nerve-racking thing I could've done."

(requests: hii i was thinking could you do like a newly arranged marriage thing and like action prompts and dialogue prompts where they haven't gotten too comfortable around the other yet but they're starting to like each other or something 😭 I hope I could explain it somewhat well; Hey could you do an arranged marriage prompt where they don't hate each other but are just nervous around each other ish; arranged marriage secret affection prompts?)

#arranged marriage prompts #arranged marriage au #writing prompts #prompt list #prompts #otp prompts #otp #fanfic prompts #romance prompts #romantic prompts #writing ideas #writing inspiration #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fluff prompts #setting prompts #dialogue prompts #20 prompts

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fayes-fics · 2 months

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Friends & Family

Friends + Masterpost

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Anthony has a very important question to ask, but the universe appears to be conspiring against him. Threequel. Set a year after the first fic in this series

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Public sexual acts, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, woman on top, back-to-back orgasm. Also, on a non-sexual front, all sorts of emotions and thwarted proposals.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: This is VERY, VERY belated request fill for the divine @colettebronte. She has had the patience of a saint as I have grappled with this request for many months. I hope this is worth the wait, but to be honest, after this delay, I'm not sure anything could be. Thank you to @sorryallonsy for betaing. Please enjoy <3

“Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, what is this??”

There is an undignified yelp, and a spatula drops to the floor with a loud splat. Apparently, he didn't hear you come in.

“Bloody hell! You scared the shit out of me… And what is the full-name business all about?” he exclaims, spinning around, holding his hands aloft as if in a hostage situation. The sight is made even funnier by the fact he is wearing one of your novelty aprons, complete with floppy bunny ears.

You have walked in from afternoon coffee with old friends to find your kitchen in absolute disarray. Pots, pats on every surface, opened containers, the contents of your spice cupboard all pulled out and haphazardly dotted around. There is a large pile of reusable shopping bags with half-open veggies in and what looks like a sourdough loaf cut open and likely going stale next to the complete wrong knife for the job at hand. There is almost no worktop surface that is left unused or covered in some sticky-looking residue from god knows what.

“I said yes to you making dinner while I was out; I did not say you could conduct some kind of controlled explosion in my kitchen,” holding your hands up in exasperated resignation.

Frankly, it’s a mystery why he offered to make dinner in the first place; you have never seen the man so much as boil an egg in all the years you have known him. And certainly not in the twelve months you have loved him. His idea of cooking is usually stopping at Whole Foods to pick up a hot rotisserie chicken.

He walks towards you with that adorable puppy dog expression, his perennial get-out-of-jail-free card. You pick a fleck of what you think is broccoli from his hair as he reaches you.

“Points for effort?” he pouts, a tiny smile toying with the corners of his mouth, seeking forgiveness. You let him pull you into his arms and kiss your cheek. “Do you still love me?” he teases, pulling back to shoot you that perfect-toothed charming grin.

“I’ll love you even more if you tidy all this up,” you counter, raising an eyebrow as he chuckles. “Although I’m intrigued. You have never once made dinner since we’ve been dating; why now?”

“Well, I wanted to do something special…” he says pointedly, pulling away to switch off the hob when there is a slight burning smell in the air.

“What’s so special about today?” You frown.

“Really?” He spins around to look at you, a slight pout as you wrack your brains. “What happened on this date one year ago?”

Ohhh…

You feel bad you had completely not realised it. Exactly one year ago to this day, you got together after many years of combative flirting. Heart melting in your ribcage as you suddenly realise this is him attempting to cook an anniversary dinner for you.

“You secret romantic, you,” you murmur, contrition and affection burning inside as you can't help but seek his touch.

“Don’t let anyone know,” he jests as he pulls you into his arms again and kisses your temple. “I have a reputation to uphold….”

“Of course…” you giggle, resting your head on his shoulders as you sway together in the bombsite that was your kitchen. “And here was me thinking you would do something far more risqué…”

“Such as..?” he prompts, intrigued by where your thoughts have gone.

“Oh, I don't know….” you run your fingers into his lush hair, pressing into him. “Maybe take me back to that same penthouse your friend owns. Maybe make it to that overpriced sofa this time…” his eyes flash dark and dangerous, licking his lips, and you feel compelled to continue, “Maybe even that enormous bed. And the balcony….”

He groans gently as his mind no doubt fills with the same images as yours. “Fuckkkkkkk….” he rues, “I should have done that. I’m definitely no Gordon Ramsey….”

You laugh and run your hands up his biceps. “Maybe not. But I do have a suggestion…” you offer, dropping your voice a little smokier.

“Tell me…” Anthony rumbles, nudging your cheek until your lips brush, fingers digging into your flesh where he holds you.

“Let's work up an appetite and then order from our usual. Tidying up can wait…” you whisper, mouth ghosting over his, fingers opening the top button of his shirt and toying with the patch of chest hair.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

You squeal gently as he picks you up and strides towards your bedroom. The little navy velvet box burning a hole in his suit jacket pocket can wait for another day. Perhaps.

—

During a boring editorial meeting the following morning, your phone buzzes in your lap.

AB: Can you be at mine at 7pm tonight?

Y/N: Yes… but why?

AB: All will be revealed 😉

AB: Come hungry for delicious protein

Y/N: Filthy. I like it. 😉😛

AB: OMG NO! Not THAT. Bloody hell…

Y/N: Shame…

AB: Well, okay, maybe a bit of that. Afterwards. 😉

Y/N: *victory dance* 💃

AB: I love you, you filthy animal 😛😘

—

You walk into Anthony’s kitchen at precisely 7pm that evening to find some very posh-looking man in a bowtie pouring some wine into the good glasses. The ones you are too scared to use.

“What is all this?” Your curiosity piqued.

“Cooking was a disaster, so this is recompense,” Anthony greets you with a hug and a brief kiss on the lips.

He looks handsome in his usual crisp shirt, undone just enough at the chest to be distracting, and custom-tailored trousers that cling to him just right. It takes some effort to tear your eyes away from him, but when you do, you now see a smorgasbord of cheese on his expansive, pristine white marble kitchen island, with fruit, crackers and all manner of chutneys.

“Oooh, lovely. Fancy cheese and wine night?” you guess.

“Indeed,” he replies warmly. “Baxter here is a world-renowned expert on such things. He will be taking us on a cheese world tour paired with the very best wines.”

“Sounds lovely. Thank you,” you nod to the man, then crowd into Anthony again. “The anniversary of our first proper date?” you guess, kissing his jaw, enjoying the slight rasp of stubble there.

“The lady is learning…” he ribs genially, taking your hand and pulling you along to take a seat on one of the stools.

Baxter speaks engagingly and knowledgeable, and admittedly, every cheese and wine pairing is exquisite. Just a bite from each, but after 10 countries, you are a little tipsy, leaning into Anthony and shooting him goofy smiles, resting your chin on his shoulder, cheekily grabbing his thigh where the fabric pulls taut right over his quad muscle so temptingly. You want to climb into his lap and wrap around him.

After an hour, the man politely takes his leave, mentioning he has left some more “adventurous” choices in sealed boxes in the fridge.

“What does adventurous cheese mean?” you tipsily ponder after the man has left. “Do you think it's abseiled down a mountain?”

Anthony laughs accommodatingly at your goofiness, taking your hand and leading you outside onto the balcony. “I assume strong-flavoured maybe. But I’m quite sure it's all bravado,” he assures.

You lean on the railing, looking down upon the Thames below, all of London seeming reflected in its inky depths, a thousand lights twinkling in its choppy waves, like a sea of stars beneath you.

“I could never tire of this view,” you declare wistfully, a warmth behind your ribs as he crowds into your back, placing a light blanket around your shoulders.

“It is yours to enjoy for as long as it is mine,” he breathes into your hair, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You sway together gently in the breeze, your hands over his, pushing back into his warm body.

“I love you,” you say quietly, turning to nuzzle his cheek.

“I love you too,” he responds immediately, “and I have for so long now; it feels wrong when you are not with me,” his tone ardent, gentle. “Wait here….” he whispers, a waver in his voice that makes you pause.

You wait patiently as he slips back inside, the breeze dancing through your hair as you inhale deeply and soak in the city. Although you are high above street level, the sounds are still there, like a background hum. It’s as energising as the country air at his rural ancestral home in Kent, just in a different way—so vibrant and teeming with life.

Anthony seems to be gone for a while, so out of intrigue, you wander inside to the fridge, grab one of the containers Baxter left and take it back onto the balcony before he reappears. When you peel it open, you are taken aback by the smell. It's very pungent, even out in the open air.

“There is an important question I wa…” Anthony freezes mid-sentence. “Dear god, what is that smell?” he exclaims, his face scrunching violently.

“Oh, I think it's the cheese Baxter left.”

You swing the container around so it's right under his nose and watch him go white as a sheet and then double over to one side, dry heaving.

“That's disgusting!” He gags, quickly putting something small from his hand into his trouser pocket as he coughs roughly, almost bent double.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” you frown, bringing the container back to your own nose, closer than you had it before.

Then, a wave of nausea hits you, too. It smells of decay and bad feet and turns your stomach so violently that you have to grab the balcony railing to stop yourself from stumbling.

“Fuck that's terrible,” you stutter, trying hard to keep down the rich wines and cheeses you have already consumed.

“Throw it!” Anthony blurts, somewhat frantic.

“Where?” you panic, holding it away at arm's length, desperate to stay upwind of it.

“Off the fucking balcony! Fling it in the Thames! I can't even have that shit in my bins….” he yelps before another wretch doubles him over again.

Gripping the container, you fling the contents as hard as you can, watching the blob of cheese sail downwards in an arc for twelve storeys, hitting the river below with a distant but satisfying plop. You both stand there wheezing and gasping as you reseal the container immediately, fearful of any residual scent.

“Dear god, am I going to inadvertently ruin every one of these special evenings?” he grumbles under his breath, sounding more like a rhetorical question than anything.

You have no idea what he could mean, but you don’t have the capacity to ask - you have to run to the cloakroom as the mere olfactory flashback makes you nauseated.

When you reemerge ten minutes later, full of regret and needing toothpaste, you find him in his en suite bathroom in a similar fragile state. You both crawl into his bed feeling delicate, curling up foetal and holding hands across the expanse of the bed, him muttering apologies.

—

III

The following week, Anthony takes you back to the same restaurant where you had your second date, one year to the day later. Seeing the pattern in advance, you wear the beautiful little black dress he bought you recently. And you are pleased to make him temporarily tongue-tied when you slip off your coat to reveal it, whispering coquettishly in his ear that you are happy to skip dinner and return to his.

“Oh, we will,” he rumbles, a promissory note that lights a fire low in your belly.

After perusing the menu, you decide to order the same dish you had last time. You are certain everything is terrific, but you remember it being so delicious it had you making noises only Anthony usually can. Also, you are hoping for a complete repeat of the same night from a year ago. Memorably, it was the first time he managed to give you three orgasms in one night—you are very keen to repeat that.

But rather strangely, Anthony’s energy seems slightly off, almost nervous. You can only assume it's apprehension that this night does not go as the previous two attempts at anniversary celebrations have.

While you are sharing a delicious starter, a familiar face over the room at the bar catches your eye.

“Is that Benedict?” you frown, causing Anthony to twist in your booth and look.

“Probably,” he sighs.

You are nonplussed by his reaction, so you take it upon yourself to wave to him, to Anthony’s seeming chagrin.

When Benedict wanders over, you notice his shoulders are hunched, a shuffled gait. Not the usual mister sunshine he is.

“Hey Ben, everything okay?” you check as he pulls up nearby, hovering a little.

“I got dumped,” he exhales. “So I’m drowning my sorrows,” he explains, holding his whiskey tumbler aloft in a rueful toast.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you grimace, knowing he has been more unlucky in love than not, which seems a shame; he’s a sweet, good-looking man but often gets used, attracted to people who take advantage of his giving nature.

“Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your dinner…” he placates modestly, glancing at his older brother, who seems to be brooding.

“Don't be silly, you can join us,” you beckon him into the booth.

“No, he can’t,” Anthony interjects.

You frown at him. “Why not? It’s just dinner,” you dispute.

“No, it’s not; it’s our anniversary,” Anthony argues before turning to Benedict. “Brother, I love you and all, but would you kindly fuck off?” Anthony grouses, gritting his teeth.

“Anthony!” You admonish. “Don’t be a dick!” You roll your eyes. “Ignore your grouchy brother, Ben; of course, you can join us,” you offer again, seeing the hesitancy but also the sadness tugging at the corner of his eyes that means you are worried about leaving him alone.

He acquiesces, and as he wanders across to the bar to grab his jacket and join you, you scowl at Anthony. “He’s just been dumped. You could be nicer,”

“I could… just not tonight,” he says, almost harangued.

You decide not to dwell on why he seems unduly hung up on this evening’s plans, being so particular, watching him seem to fiddle with an item in his jacket pocket, then look askance across the restaurant, defeated.

“Anthony, are you okay?” You check quietly as Benedict walks back over.

“Yeah, I just….” He sighs and finally meets your eye squarely with a tinge of sadness. “I had other plans for us tonight. Not babysitting…”

At one point during the main course, Benedict excuses himself to the bathroom. Anthony has been mostly monosyllabic, almost sulking, and you feel guilty; perhaps he did indeed have other ideas for the evening.

You shuffle around to lean into him and grab his hand, placing it high on your thigh under the table, the message unmistakable.

“We can still have our plans for later…” you whisper hotly into his ear.

He seems to perk up immediately, his hand grasping your flesh in a way that catches your breath. “You always know what to say to make me feel better…” he murmurs, at once playful and reverent.

“Touch me…” you whisper, the need for him an instant, tart taste in your mouth.

“Here, in the restaurant? With my brother coming back to join us any moment?” His tone is incredulous but unmistakably aroused.

“Yes…” you hiss, pushing his hand up higher to the junction of your thighs where you burn molten for him always.

He growls when he realises you have made another style choice, this one scandalous—no underwear.

“I’ll do more than that, you wonderful minx,” he huffs, pulling your thigh over his lap under the tablecloth. He plunges two fingers into your aching pussy and presses his thumb over your clit. You gasp and grip the table hard, just as Benedict reappears.

It certainly does wonders for Anthony’s disposition, like he is a different man now. Chatting amiably to his brother as you subtly try not to look flustered, dripping silently into his palm as he holds still.

“Whatever you did to put this one in a better mood, thank you,” Benedict jests at one point.

“I just had to give the old grouch a hug and his favourite toy to keep him entertained,” you joke back, him not realising exactly how true that is. Anthony’s fingers flex deep inside you at your cheeky riposte, and you can feel his smirk as you have to cough to hide your moan.

“Well, thank you,” Benedict smiles, “you bring things out in my brother I never thought I would see. So whatever magic trick you are pulling, keep doing it.”

Anthony’s fingers curl hard against your g spot, and you have to laugh loudly to not scream.

“She’s the very best brother,” Anthony replies, lips brushing your temple as he flicks his thumb teasingly over your clit. “I hope one day you find someone as special as she is,” he offers, his first sympathetic noise to his brother of the evening.

“I should be so lucky,” Benedict adds quietly, tone pensive, glancing at his phone as it lights up by his elbow.

Anthony withdraws from your pussy; you whimper mutely, feeling bereft but also relieved, not sure you can act any longer. You watch as he brings those fingers up to his mouth and sucks them decadently as Benedict is distracted by his phone.

“Thank you for dessert, my love,” he thrums into your ear, “and the show,” he adds cheekily, your clit and pussy clenching, denied, so very aroused.

“Take me home right now, Anthony!” Your order is through gritted teeth, quiet but brokering no argument.

And he does.

—

A tide of relief hits you as the door to his sleek penthouse clicks softly open; tossing aside your umbrella and slipping off your shoes in the fancy hallway. It's been a taxing work day; all you can think about is climbing into the shower, then curling up and watching something mindless until Anthony gets home.

“Y/n…”

An enticing but distant call in that familiar voice.

“Anthony?” you respond, puzzled. “I thought you would be out late tonight?” you add, wandering forward, trying to find the source.

“Change of plan….”

You cross the open-plan lounge area with its floor-to-ceiling view across the rooftops of London. It's been more than a year of dating, and still, you aren't entirely used to the sheer scale of his place compared to yours. It feels like it takes ages to get across just his living room.

“Where are you?” you frown, hands on hips. It sounds like he's likely in the bedroom.

“Follow the sound of my voice,” he entices, and yep, it's definitely from that direction.

However, when you wander in, the room is empty, the early evening sun blazing onto the soft, luxurious white duvet on his vast bed.

“Getting warmer,” he offers, quieter now, and you recognise his voice has an echo. He can only be in his en-suite bathroom.

You round the corner into that tastefully masculine room - all slate and birch - to be greeted by a sight that makes your lungs feel too tight.

There, in his sizeable sunken whirlpool tub, is one Anthony Bridgerton. Very naked and very wet. Standing so that the bubbling waterline hugs his hips—acres of toned torso, water droplets meandering down the washboard of his stomach and glistening in the thatch of hair across his chest. You bite your lips without even realising it, shifting your stance as you feel a ripple of excitement over your skin.

“Hello, Ms y/l/n,” he preens, knowing exactly how much the sight before you makes you tongue-tied and aroused.

“Hello…” you stutter back, eyes still feasting. “What is the CEO of Bridgerton Enterprises doing taking a bath at….” you glance down to check your watch, “... 5:25 pm on a Thursday?”

“It's a special occasion…” he smirks, wading towards the edge of the tub closest to you. “I thought a bath would be nice.”

You can't seem to look away from the wake of waves cresting his Adonis belt as he does so. The sight of something delicious just below the surface is almost hypnotic.

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he mocks gently, tongue literally in cheek, as you cut your gaze to his triumphant face.

“Wh… what special occasion?” you manage to stumble out.

“Surely you recall what happened on this night exactly twelve months ago?”

When you look nonplussed - frankly, you can barely remember your own name right now - he mock sighs.

“I surprised you on my way back from the airport?” he prompts.

“Oh!” you suddenly cotton on, “it's been a year since we exchanged keys!”

He nods, and a fetching beam breaks out across his face. “Ahhh, the lady remembereth,” he winks.

“So this is how you’re celebrating?” your eyes again drag covetously down his body.

“No, this is how WE are celebrating…” he corrects and gestures towards a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket at one corner of the tub, along with two long-stemmed flutes.

You can't help but match his grin now. “Well, I can’t find fault with that idea,” you admit, taking a step closer until you are at the edge of the tub surround.

“Hmm, I thought not,” he says silkily, closing the gap between you.

Grabbing the back of your neck with a firm hand, he draws you down into a deep, sensual kiss. His mouth claims yours. You shiver as warm water trickles down inside your top from the hand in your hair. He crowds into you, soaking your clothing with the press of his body as you kneel on the sunken tub surround.

“Oh no, this is all wet,” he feigns, tugging lightly at your sleeve, “you will just have to take it off.”

“Hmmm. I rather think that is your doing. How about you take it off?” you challenge, the banter between you never seeming to get old.

“Maybe I’ll just pull you into the water fully clothed?” he posits, raising an eyebrow.

You laugh and take a step back, revelling in his undivided attention as you strip for him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his expression hungry; the only sounds are his panted breath and the bubbles roiling in the tub. You are down to your underwear, a new matching lacy set, as if you knew, on some subconscious level, it was a special occasion, when he lunges forward and makes you squeal as he effortlessly picks you up and hauls you into the huge tub with him. The warm, effervescent water is a balm and tonic, making your skin tingle.

“What is the point of celebrating anything if it’s not an excuse to get naked?” he offers silkily, cupping your jaw with both palms, his wet thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones, then his lips are back, plundering, seeking, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands roam your skin, arranging so you are straddling his lap, his cock a solid press against your inner thigh.

This is indeed how you always want to celebrate every milestone of your relationship—with wonderful, sensual intimacy. Anthony pulls back from the kiss, and you stare into his rich eyes, blissfully tracing the lines of his face with fingertips as he easily unhooks your bra and pulls it gently over the rounds of your shoulders. This close-up and soaked, his face is all sharp contours and smooth, lightly tanned skin.

“You are too handsome,” your internal monologue spilling out with a light mewl as his thumbs brush your nipples.

“I love you too,” he chuckles drolly to make a point.

“Oh yes, that too,” you append with a playful pout. Then, a more sincere “I love you.”

“Wonderful to hear,” he rumbles into your ear as his hands slide underwater to tug down your underwear.

He pulls you deeper into his lap, your thighs pushed wide around his slender hips. His rigid cock nudges your slit promisingly, and you wait with bated breath for his much-wanted invasion. But he pauses, and you feel the curl of his smile against your cheekbone.

“Champagne?” he teases, holding still.

“Now?!” you splutter. “How about you get inside me first?”

“I thought you'd never ask,” he answers, wry and laconic.

Any witty riposte you may have dies on your lips as he surges into your body, knowing you need no warm-up, ready for him the minute you rounded the corner of the room.

“Happy key day,” he murmurs as your eyes flutter closed and you moan loudly, him nudging that spot that makes you so addicted to him.

“Happy key day,” your response is a ragged exhale as you adjust to his deep invasion.

Every time it still feels like the first, like it's just too good, and you just want to cling to him and be fucked into oblivion or fuck him into oblivion. A potent, heavy feeling inside that makes you crackle with energy and feel sated at the same time.

“Fuck me, Anthony,” you sigh into his wet hair, pushing closer into his embrace, voicing your exact desires.

“With pleasure.”

You squeak as his hands grasp tight around your waist and haul you up until just his tip is still inside you, then slams you back down, a curse falling from your lips as he does. His handling is slightly rough in a way that feels perfect, his teeth glancing your earlobe before he sucks it into his mouth and bites lightly.

Then it's a wondrous carnal dance, your joint noises echoing up the slate tiles as you fuck wantonly. Taking over at one point and gripping the edge of the oversized tub, you ride him for all your worth, chasing that feeling only he, his cock, has ever given you. So addictive ever since that very first night.

“I only ever want to fuck you, always…” the words tumbling from your lips unbidden, no filter between your thoughts and mouth as you spiral higher.

Even in the full throes of passion, his expression softens as you confess it.

“Forever?” something vulnerable in his panted tone as you rise and fall upon him.

“Forever, Anthony Bridgerton,” you vow, sensing his need to hear it, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, pressing all of your being into him, wanting your bodies to be forged together somehow.

His thumb slips between your legs, and you cry out as he snags your clit perfectly, eyes rolling, feeling like a live wire.

“I need to feel it; please give it to me,” he implores desperately, thumb flicking almost violently over your engorged pearl.

It doesn't take much more, and you are fracturing around him. Crying his name, fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his shoulders as you reach that high, unable to stop slamming upon him as you flutter, your whole body spasming in pleasure but unwilling to stop. Him roaring his approval as you squeeze his cock tight, rippling around him.

“Please don't come,” you plead to him, “I need more, Anthony, more,” a wrecked sob, wanting to orgasm again. He snarls, his teeth on your cheekbone, his grip tightening around your hips, staving off his orgasm as best he can.

You grab his face and babble nonsense, saying you need his cock forever, strung out on the edge, almost a mania in your being, needing everything he can give. He pants harshly into your open-mouthed, sloppy kisses as you keep riding wound so tight like a coiled spring, wanting to be speared open by him always.

“Marry me!” he cries as you both reach that peak together, an explosion in both of your beings, feeling him come inside you harsh and deep, moaning your name like a prayer.

You collapse upon him, the bubbles of the jetted tub tickle your skin as you heave breaths, wracked and sated to your very core. A high like you have never known.

“Did you just…. propose?” you stutter as your brain comes back online, his cock still buried inside you.

“Shit…” he laments. “That was NOT how it was supposed to go! I had it all planned out!” he decries, burying his face into your shoulder where you still sit upon him.

“Anthony….” there are no other words, shock tying your tongue.

He pulls back and looks contrite. “Please allow me a do-over?” his face so beseeching.

Raw emotion and victory crest hard in your veins, and you can't help but banter with him - as you always have, as you always will, until death do you part now.

“No, Viscount Bridgerton,” you rag, holding his face, “No do-overs. You will just have to live with the fact you proposed to me as we came together….”

His face is a jumble of warring emotions as you realise you have kept him on tenterhooks about your answer.

“…And you will just have to accept that I said yes with you still inside me,” you add silkily.

A handsome grin claims his whole face, relief and devotion coursing through him. “We can’t tell anyone,” he whispers as you resurface from another kiss.

“Our little secret,” you smile back as he finally slips from your body.

—

“You know I might be the first-ever Viscountess with a garden flat in Zone 3,” you chuckle, sitting in matching fluffy robes on his balcony, the sky a riot of colour as the sun sets.

A few minutes before, he had gotten down on one knee and produced a little velvet box. You squealed and said yes again, watching transfixed as he pushed a flawless, elegant three-carat diamond onto your finger.

Anthony frowns deeply. “Err, no. You are moving in here with me,” he asserts loftily.

“I’m not selling my place!”

“You can rent it out!” he waves dismissively.

“Urgh, tenants. Hassle.” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, fine, then we can just use it to store all of my stuff you hate, alright?” he counters, catching your gaze with a fiery challenge. Your insides ablaze that your trademark flirtatious antagonism will always be there, even once you are married.

“Oh, Viscount Bridgerton, you have a deal…” you whisper coquettish and swing off of your lounger onto his, straddling him and sealing the pact with a kiss.

“I’m just so glad I could finally make it happen.”

You flip around and settle between his legs, your spine on his chest, lacing your hands together over your robe. “What do you mean?”

He barks a laugh you feel echo into your back. “So this is not the first time I have tried to propose to you. Remember that disastrous cooking? Attempt 1. Cheese night when we almost died? Attempt 2. Benedict interruptus? Attempt 3.” He holds up a hand before you, counting each on his fingers. “I almost gave up.”

You laugh and realise with hindsight how he seemed off kilter on those occasions, a soft ache behind your ribs in empathy. “I’m so glad you didn’t. Give up, that is,” you murmur, running your fingers over his lovingly once he lowers his hand back to your belly.

“I jest; I would never give up trying to make you my wife,” he pledges solemnly into your hair, kissing the shell of your ear. “And I hope you will never give up on me, as terrible of a husband as I will likely be….” he demures.

“I can do that, old friend…” you tease, a callback to that first night you got together.

“Less of the old,” he chides, immediately picking up your invitation, an exact repeat of your words to each other that first night you got together, heart melting as you realise he remembers the conversation word for word, too.

“I've known you my whole life, Anthony,” you continue, that conversation etched into your brain, turning back over in his arms. “You can't lie to me…”

“I never will,” he goes offscript, and you exchange laden looks. Then, a dangerous smirk takes over his face as he leans closer. “But you can handcuff me to our bed anytime,” he adds, a nod to the joke you made that night.

“You wish, you lucky fuck,” you respond, aping his line.

He grins widely and pulls back, handing you a champagne flute from the nearby lounger table.

“From old friends to new family…” he toasts, sincere and ardent, clinking his glass softly against yours.

“Friends and family…” you smile, your diamond ring afire in the setting sun, as you take a sip and pull him in for a blistering kiss.

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dotster001 · 1 year

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Hi hi! I saw your requests were open so I had an idea for some Twst boys well Floyd, Jamil, Rook, and Vil, weird group I know but they're my faves

So I've been dealing with burnout recently with school and I can imagine MC being a lot worse with Crowley and all- How would the boys react if one day MC just- passed out, like just randomly with out prompting. So maybe some comfort fluff?

Take your time you're amazing!

(thank you for your patience boo. I know this has been in my inbox for a while. I hope your burnout is better, and if not I hope this provides a little levity)

Part Two Part Three

He's been so boooooooored lately. Shrimpy, why ya gotta spend all that time working for Crowley? You should be hanging out with him! But that's just kind of your way, and he knows he can't really stop you. So he mopes around the lounge while you're off doing who knows what.

When you stop by the Monstro Lounge, he is so fucking excited! It's the most alive he's seemed in weeks! But when you apologetically tell him that you're here to discuss food at the upcoming festival that Crowley has "graciously" allowed you to plan and manage with Azul, he gets pouty and storms off.

He walks into the VIP room to apologize to you just in time to see you collapse. He immediately is scooping you up, not even processing what Azul is trying to tell him.

He takes you to his room, clears the clutter off his bed, decides it's not clean enough for, then lays you on Jade's bed. He grabs his fluffiest blanket, and wraps you up in it. He doesn't want to leave your side, so he texts Jade to bring you a glass of water, and a mug of tea.

When he wakes up, he makes you drink both. He's a little intimidating about it, but it's just because he's worried and wants to make sure you feel better fast.

When you've drunk all that, he asks what happened. You tell him you've been so busy running around for this event, that you have had little time to take care of yourself, and your brain kind of shut itself off for a minute. He acts oddly calm during the explanation, then flops on top of you.

"I'm staying right here until you get some sleep, Shrimpy."

Once he's certain you are resting, he and Jade take a little trip to see a certain crow.

When you wake up, Floyd excitedly tells you that him and Jade are now your partners on the project! Yay! Floyd ends up doing a lot of the work, even without any prompting. It's a win win for him. You can take time to recover, and he has an excuse to be around you.

For some reason, when the event is over….your workload from Crowley is significantly smaller. How about that?

Jamil knew this school was run stupidly and inneficiently. But when Crowley makes you, a student, fill in for a teacher who is on his honeymoon, as a professor, that's when he's lost all faith in NRC.

He offers to help you immediately, but you insist that you can handle it. He tries to argue with you on it, but you tell him that he already has too much to do, and you'd hate yourself if he added your workload to his. He begrudgingly lets you alone about it for now. He doesn't want to distress you.

You're grading papers in the Scarabia kitchen when you pass out mid sentence. He's calm under pressure, so he sighs, and carries you to the lounge laying you on one of the lavish sofas the Asim family provided. (He guesses they are good for something)

Kalim chooses that moment to walk into the room, and immediately panics. Jamil let's him know things are under control, then sends him to get a cold cloth. When he returns he places that on your forehead, and waits.

The second your eyes are open, he initiates snake whisper. He asks how long you've been awake, and you tell him the truth. You haven't slept in 30 hours, due to grading the 100+ midterm papers that needed to be finished by the end of the week. You hadn't eaten in 12 hours, and at some point every paper was looking the same

Once he gets his information, he tells you he will be finishing the grading, and that after this you will not be helping Crowley until HE tells you it's a reasonable workload. Does he feel bad for hypnotizing you? Yes. Does he think this is the only way to make your brain take a break? Also Yes.

Once he releases you from the spell, he tells you you passed out, and that he's going to be taking care of you for a couple days. He sleeps on the floor while you take his bed. He stays up late and finishes the papers. He cooks you foods full of proteins to get your energy back up. He gives you warm milk with honey and cinnamon to help you sleep.

He tells Crowley that he hypnotized you, and you will no longer be doing what he says without Jamil screening the workload. Bird man pouts about having to actually do his job instead of dumping everything on you, but your workload becomes much more reasonable after that.

Vil would have to be very busy to not notice his sweet potato is not getting the rest they need.

That said, he'd had to take two weeks off school after his new fashion line had had some major set backs. While he was gone, Crowley had swooped in with the paperwork Vil usually did, added the paperwork he was supposed to be doing, and you'd fallen out of the self care routine that Vil had worked so hard to make a habit for you.

When he'd come back, he was working on his make up homework, while you were working on what he was horrified to find out late was his paperwork. He notices the bags under your eyes, and the way you rub them every couple minutes as though your vision is blurry, but he doesn't want to ruin what is the first moment he's had with you in two weeks. And it's so peaceful, the two of you quietly working in the same room. He's getting distracted by thinking about a future like this, when he feels you slump against him.

At first he thinks it's a bid for affection, which he is more than happy to give, but when you aren't responsive, he gets worried. He pulls out some smelling salts from his drawer (cause of course he has those) and once the smell brings you back to him, he runs his fingers along your scalp and asks what's been going on.

Once you tell him, he scowls, and walks into the bathroom for a moment. When he comes back, he tells you he's drawn you a bath. When you go into the bathroom, you see it's not only a bath, but a Bubble bath, where the bubble changed color and floated, and then popped in a shower of glitter.

Once you're in the bath, he puts a facemask on you, turns on some soothing music, and dims the lights. He assured you he will be back and leaves the bathroom. He stations Rook outside the bathroom door, because he knows he will hear it if something is wrong, then goes to yell at Crowley. (He's mortified when he finds out half of it was his paperwork)

He comes back to his room, and Rook tells him he can tell by your breathing that you are peacefully snoozing in the bath. Vil re-enters as Rook leaves, and wakes you up. He helps you finish cleaning up, then lets you borrow his softest pajamas. He makes you a smoothie, then holds you close, running his fingers through your hair, and pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head, until you drift off. He's taking you with him on his next business trip.

Like Vil, there would have to be extreme circumstances for Rook to not have stopped you before the point of collapse. (In fact, we're going to work with that idea)

All the janitors had gone on strike. (Surprise) Luckily for Crowley, he had a perfect non magical student who would be so generous to fill in since their food, board, and classes were all free.

It was a job for multiple magic users, not ONE magicless student. You made it halfway through the day, before Rook gave up just stalking you, and decided to discuss how shaky your muscles had gotten and how you hadn't taken a lunch break yet.

He seductively backs you against a chair to trick you into sitting down for a moment, and then gracefully sits in your lap…and refuses to get up. His petit lapin will not work themselves to exhaustion. That wouldn't be very beautiful.

He texts Epel to bring you both lunch. You think once you eat, he will let you continue cleaning, despite how sore your body is. You are so silly! It's adorable that you would think that! He giggles then kisses your forehead. And that's when it fully hits you how trapped you are.

He carries you off to his room, and makes you lay down while he massages your tired muscles. You get lulled into complacency while he does so. He thinks it's adorable how safe you feel near a hunter such as himself.

Once your body is fully restored, you both pay a visit to Crowley, where Rook's eyes go dark, despite his ever present smile, and he tells him in no uncertain terms that you will not be a janitor, and that if your finances were truly an issue, he could take it up with Rook.

While Crowley would normally jump on any opportunity for money like that, Rook's eyes have a silent warning in them. Not that you notice. You're just enamored with your boyfriend acting as your knight in shining armor. Just the way he likes it.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0

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paintingwhiteceilings · 8 months

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❃Seventeen and s/o switches languages during an argument❃

a/n: Firstly, thank you for sending my very first request; I hope I did it justice! After discussing it together, we decided to make it a more general prompt. This was such a fun prompt to try my hand at, as a fellow EU carat, it was amusing to imagine how they would react to their partner switching languages. Some of these may have become a bit, more like very, long as a result so, well, grab your popcorn I suppose :')

Anyway, it is a bit longer and more serious than my other posts but I hope that you will like it regardless!

TG: some of these are slightly angsty and DK is naked

Scoups/Seungcheol

❀ In all fairness, the two of you tend to bicker every now and then, mostly because Coups is the pettiest and poutiest person alive. As a result, you tend to be quite used to having irrelevant arguments with him. Neither of you gets incredibly upset; the arguments are mostly harmless and, at times, can be quite amusing.

❀ This time, however, you had quite a stressful day at work and were in no mood to playfully bicker with him. Apparently, you had absent mindlessly borrowed one of his jackets, and he had been missing it all day, giving Hoshi an earful as he believed he had gone out of his way to borrow his stuff again. After he discovered that Hoshi hadn't been the culprit, he texted you, but in the chaos of work, you had forgotten to reply, leaving him on read. Truly, in his eyes, how incredibly offensive. How can his love, his light, his everything leave him on read just like his members do???

❀ Cue a ton of whining and pouting when you walked through the door, wrapped in his precious jacket. He didn't seem to get the hint that you were in no mood for his dramatic antics. It didn't take long for you to snap at him, effectively shutting him up. He didn’t shut up, however, because you actually got angry at him, but because you unconsciously switched to your native tongue in your exhaustion. He had forgotten that was a thing you could do.

❀ He has dealt with the foreign line switching languages during arguments enough to know that you weren't having his tantrum. It is enough for him to realize to knock it off, but he will be pouting the rest of the evening. Not because he is still upset about the jacket, but because he has no idea what you said and he is too prideful to ask until the next morning.

Jeonghan

❀ Jeonghan rarely gets mad at people, meaning that arguments between the two of you tend to be infrequent. The only times the two of you tend to bicker is when he finds yet another way to cheat during game nights. The cheating is all in good fun, and more often than not, you find yourself impressed with his quick-wittedness.

❀ That being said, losing five times in a row because your boyfriend found another loophole in the game rules really tested your patience. You had been playing Uno together when he decided that whenever he plays the reverse card, it means he gets to go again. Somehow, he stocked up on a ton of reverse cards, and he had been getting rid of most of his cards without you being able to do anything about it.

❀ Naturally, you started arguing with him, trying to convince him that it was against the rules. It was no use; he knows the rules better than you do. Thus, in the heat of the moment, you couldn’t help yourself, and you cursed at him in your native tongue. He was mighty confused for a second, but was aware from looking at your face that you were not complimenting his quick thinking.

❀ He ended up laughing at you, finding it hilarious that he somehow managed to trigger you that much. Be prepared for him to never let you live it down. Every game night, he will cheekily ask you whether it is okay for him to cheat or whether you will curse at him in your native tongue again. From now on, he will up his cheating antics as well, trying to get a rise out of you again.

Joshua

❀ You and Joshua usually don't let your grievances get to a shouting match. Before it can get to that point, one of you sits the other down to calmly talk things out. However, every once in a while, whenever one of you is stressed about something, things tend to escalate. So when Joshua comes home late after a gruelling recording session for the sixth time that week, leaving you to do all the house chores after a stressful work day yet again, you get into a heated argument.

❀ Neither of you wanted to admit to being in the wrong, leading to you bickering back and forth. Joshua had been angrily smiling at you for the past half an hour, trying to explain his side of the story, whilst you were trying to do the same. Arguing in Korean wasn't necessarily your strong suit, and despite English being a lot easier, you couldn't help but switch to your native language as you were trying to find the right words to explain your side of the story.

❀ To be honest, I can't really imagine Joshua being surprised when you switch languages during an argument. Having lived in an environment where he has to speak a second language constantly, he probably is all too aware that when people get emotional, they switch to their mother tongue. He has had too many quarrels and fights with the other members where he kept throwing in English, unable to remember the corresponding Korean word.

❀ Instead, your argument becomes a poly-lingual discussion where the two of you keep switching between all the languages you are familiar with. Joshua doesn't even blink when you switch to your native language anymore; he is used to deciphering what you are saying through context clues.

Jun

❀ Jun is an absolute homebody. He loves to lounge on the couch for hours with his phone in hand, playing mobile games and scrolling on social media. It is the perfect way for him to de-stress after his busy schedule, where he has to constantly be on the move. Usually, you enjoy the domesticity of it, but lately, you can't help but feel like all the two of you have been doing is staying at home. It isn’t like you constantly want to be out and about, but a part of you wants to go on a proper date where you get to dress up and be lovey-dovey with your boyfriend. You have been trying to find the right time to bring it up, aware that Jun doesn’t do well with subtle hints.

❀ However, when the day finally came where you asked him to go on more dates, it ended up in you two fighting. It had all started when you found yourself bored out of your mind with Jun being on his phone again, absorbed in his own world. For the first time in a while, he got to enjoy a bit of a break as promotions had finally ended, and he intended to spend most of it relaxing on the couch. It was a much-needed break from the constant dancing and travelling. Naturally, when you proposed to go out for the day, asking whether he wanted to check out a café that had just opened up in the city, he immediately responded that he didn’t want to.

❀ Perhaps both of your fuses had been short that day, and soon an argument ensued between you two. Jun stubbornly maintained that he wanted to rest and that being at home together was enough for him, whilst you tried to explain that you felt like he didn’t want to make time for your relationship. The two of you argued back and forth, both making valid arguments but unwilling to hear the other out.

❀ Jun was already mixing some Mandarin with his Korean as he got more and more frustrated. It didn’t help either that Jun had started to speak quicker the more agitated he got, making it even harder for you to decipher what he was trying to say. Thus, as the fight reached a boiling point, you started to yell at him in your native language. Jun had never heard you speak your mother tongue at length before, so you completely caught him off guard.

❀ Jun doesn't know what to say in response to your yelling, not knowing what you yelled at him in the heat of the moment. Similarly, you are surprised at your emotional outburst. You switching languages is enough for the both of you to realize that neither of you was listening to the other anymore. After a moment of silence, the two of you decide to leave the argument for the night and calmly talk about it after a good night's sleep.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Hoshi has been trying to convince you that his native language is growling, being a tiger, and all that. As much as you try to support your boyfriend’s tiger agenda, you have attempted to dissuade him from growling at you constantly as a way of communicating. You gently told him to stop as, first of all, you can't understand what he is trying to say when he is growling, and, secondly, it is very embarrassing when he does it in public.

❀ Still, he is waiting to find any excuse to growl at you, and you have noticed that whenever you slip into your mother tongue, he sees it as a green light to start. As a result, you try to be extra careful about using your native language around him in public or when other people are visiting. At home, you feel comfortable enough to, at the very least, scold him without anyone else having to bear witness to how shameless this man can be.

❀ It had all gone downhill when you and Hoshi organized a game night with the other members. It wasn't the actual game night that resulted in you yelling at him. Oh no, it had to do with the fact that Kwon Soonyoung has the habit of leaving the toilet seat up despite you having asked, on multiple occasions, whether he could lower it after he finished his business. For the past few days, he had been doing a good job remembering, but with all the excitement of the game night, it had slipped his mind. He was reminded, however, of his mistake upon hearing a splash and a blood-curdling scream leave the bathroom door.

❀ You were livid upon entering the living room and reminded your boyfriend yet again to lower the god-damn thing. In your anger, you slipped into your native tongue without being aware of doing so. You didn't even register it until you saw Hoshi's stunned and guilty expression morph into one of absolute delight.

❀ He growls. At you. In response.

❀ It is safe to say that the other members have to hold you back before you kill your boyfriend.

Wonwoo

❀ Usually, you loved having a gamer boyfriend as it meant that you got to focus on your own hobbies, happily existing in the same space without having to constantly have to do things together. Lately, however, you had been trying your hand at some of the games he had been playing. It was a fun pastime, and you especially liked games that didn’t require a fast reaction time, allowing you to explore a world or story at your own pace without it resulting in you constantly dying. Not to pat yourself on the back, but you had become quite skilled at the games you often played. Recently, you and Wonwoo had even started to play games together; you couldn’t help but smile whenever you saw your joined beds in Minecraft.

❀ So, when Wonwoo asked you to play Keep Talking & Nobody Explodes together, you had expected the two of you to do rather well. However, it couldn’t be further from what ended up transpiring. The game required seamless communication, with one person trying to disarm a bomb whilst the other consulted a manual on how to, unable to see the actual bomb. The first level had been easy enough, but you guys immediately got stuck on the second level. Each level was more complicated than the last one and was making your way through the game rather painfully slow. For some reason, your communication was completely off, resulting in numerous retries. It didn’t even matter who the operator or who the bomb disarmer was; you simply couldn’t get into sync.

❀ You could tell that Wonwoo was getting incredibly agitated when you were taking way too long to read the Korean instructions to him, unable to understand one particular word, causing the bomb to explode yet again. He had played the game with some of the members before, and it hadn’t been this hard. It didn’t help that he kept trying to give you tips and tricks on how to play the game. It felt a bit condescending. Moreover, you could tell he was partly blaming your Korean when he sighed yet again at another failed attempt due to you fumbling over your words. It wasn’t as if this was only your fault. As a result, you snapped at him that he should try to play in your native tongue and see how easy of a time he had with it. Except, you accidentally snapped at him in the wrong language.

❀ As you continue rambling under your breath, venting to yourself that your boyfriend and the game are both stupid, you don’t notice that you switched languages. Wonwoo, in the meantime, has fallen incredibly quiet, unsure how to react. He realizes that it might have been a bit unfair to play a game that requires you to communicate complicated instructions in Korean. When you are finally done ranting in your native language, he will quietly propose playing a different game, muttering a quiet apology when you two agree to switch to Stardew Valley. He makes sure to give you lots of gifts in-game, trying to show that he appreciates you playing with him even if it doesn’t always work out well.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ You were aware that when you started dating Woozi that he was a bit of a workaholic and that there would be times when he would prioritize his work over your relationship. For the most part, you loved his dedication to producing music; you enjoyed hanging out in his studio, watching how he expertly produced a new track. You always felt in awe as you watched him tinker on the piano, trying to figure out what chords to use for the song. In turn, he loved having you there; your questions and curiosity reminded him of the wonder he felt when he first started producing.

❀ However, his passion for making music sometimes did make you feel like a third wheel in your relationship, especially when a Seventeen comeback was nearing. He would be cooped up in the studio for weeks, ignoring all the messages you send him. Where he normally loved having you around in the studio, he would become easily agitated with you watching over his shoulder as the deadlines neared. The expectations of the members and the company would weigh heavily on him, and having you be there as another watchful eye was simply too much for him to handle.

❀ So, when you went to the studio after a concerned Coups had called you, noticing that Woozi hadn’t bothered to eat that day, your presence put Woozi over the edge. It had been a couple of weeks since you had last seen your boyfriend, and you had hoped that seeing you would cheer him up. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you stepped into the studio, his attention captured by the screen in front of him. Whenever he did respond, it was often curt and borderline insulting. You knew it was due to him being under a lot of pressure, but you couldn’t help feeling hurt.

❀ It got to you, and before you knew it, the two of you were fighting. Woozi, who already was feeling immense stress, couldn’t deal with the intense emotions and, hence, defensively threw out a painful insult without thinking. Feeling the tears sting in the corner of your eyes, you asked yourself why you were even still here when he obviously didn’t want you there in your native language before turning to leave. He didn’t understand what you had said, leaving him momentarily speechless.

❀ By switching languages unexpectedly, it gets through to Woozi what he had said and how hurt you were by his words. By being unable to understand what you were saying, he is able to solely focus on your tone and emotions. He feels incredibly guilty about his behaviour, and it doesn’t take long for him to chase after you to profusely apologize.

DK/Seokmin

❀ Although fights do not often happen with DK, he sometimes can be a bit prideful, only recognizing he is in the wrong when the other person gets noticeably angry. You encountered his pridefulness on a normal enough day. DK had texted you that he would be over at your place after practice, so when you came home and heard the shower running, you were delighted at the prospect of spending the evening together with your boyfriend. You briefly called out to him that you were home before waiting for him on the couch to finish showering. It didn't take long for him to be done. When you saw the door swing open with your handsome boyfriend only wearing a towel around his waist, you got up to properly greet him with a hug.

❀ However, before you could do so, you smelled a familiar scent drifting out of the bathroom. You see, one of your friends had gifted you a very expensive body wash that you had been gingerly using whenever you had had a particularly stressful day. Due to it being so expensive, you had asked DK to use the other ones in your shower, just so you could enjoy it a little longer, as you weren't really going to buy it for yourself once it ran out. He hadn't listened. Cue one of the pettiest arguments ever.

❀ In your defence, you weren't even upset about him using the body wash, but instead were hurt that he hadn't respected your wishes. DK, in turn, argued that it was only body wash and that he had simply wanted to smell like you. The argument escalated without either of you meaning to, and before you knew it, a towel hit you in the face. In surprise and anger, you yelled at him in your native tongue, which made DK effectively realize what he had done. He knew that you would never switch languages without being incredibly upset and he felt mortified, recognizing that he had not only let his emotions get out of control but also had parted with the only thing covering up his body.

❀ As you threw the towel back at him, venting in your native language some more, you finally noticed DK standing before you in all his glory, looking both guilt-ridden and like he wished for the ground to swallow him whole. Seeing him standing there butt naked was enough for you to crack up, breaking the tension from the argument. DK, on the other hand, wasn't sure whether to profusely apologize for throwing the towel at you or hide for the rest of eternity.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu often feels like the perfect boyfriend; he loves to cook and clean and lives to pamper you whenever he is able to. He takes your teasing very well, enjoying when you cheekily poke fun at him blatantly showing off his trained physique in front of fans. Although staying in Korea can sometimes be overwhelming, he truly makes you feel right at home. He strives to introduce you to his friends and tries to make as many new memories with you so that you wouldn’t have to miss your home country too much.

❀ When you guys moved in together, you had been ready to have it be another cherished memory. That was until Mingyu dropped a very precious ceramic bowl. The bowl had been a present from your family when you moved out, and you had dragged the bowl with you all the way to Korea. It was a meaningful keepsake you had taken with you from your home country, allowing you to have a piece of home in a foreign place. You had mostly used it as decoration in your previous apartment, and you were incredibly careful when using it, knowing that once it fell, it would be incredibly difficult to replace.

❀ Consequentially, when you watched your boyfriend drop it onto the floor, shattering your treasured keepsake into a thousand pieces, you felt a part of yourself fracture simultaneously. Mingyu didn’t seem to recognize what he had broken, sheepishly apologizing to you before jokingly remarking that the bowl had been rather ugly anyway. You knew he wasn’t aware of what he had broken and that it would be unfair for you to get mad at him, as it had been an accident after all. Nonetheless, seeing something so important to you not only get broken beyond repair but also mocked, set you off.

❀ As a result, you started yelling at a stunned Mingyu, who wasn’t expecting your explosive reaction at all. In turn, he got aggrieved, feeling like your reaction was disproportionate to the situation. Voicing that, however, only made you more upset, and as you tried to pick up the broken pieces to throw them out, you started crying, sobbing to yourself that it truly was beyond repair in your native tongue.

❀ Mingyu, in retrospect, doesn’t know whether it had been your crying or you switching languages, but as he watches you tearfully throw out the pieces, his anger completely vanishes, only to be replaced by an intense feeling of guilt. He will hug you tightly, apologizing for breaking something that had obviously been very important to you. After you explain what the bowl stood for, he will try his hardest to get you another bowl as a surprise, contacting your family to have them send over a new one.

❀ In the end, all is well, and to be honest, you might love the new bowl a lot more as it reminds you of how much Mingyu genuinely treasures you.

The8/Minghao

❀ Minghao and you had decided to go on a wine painting date; you had stumbled upon it not too long ago, excitedly proposing it to your boyfriend, knowing it combined two of his favourite things. Minghao had been looking forward to the date for the past week, feeling giddy despite the exhausting dance practices. He would tell anyone that would listen about the date, gushing over how well his girlfriend knew him.

❀ It was an absolute surprise to both of you when the workshop ended with you arguing. The workshop had started innocently enough, with you guys following the instructions, laughing whenever a brushstroke failed to turn out how you had intended. The wine tasted great, and both of you were amazed that the workshop was pouring such luxurious wine.

❀ However, as the workshop progressed and the teacher made his way past all the other participants to check on their progress, things turned sour pretty quickly. The moment the teacher laid eyes on you, he was enamoured and absolutely oblivious that you were on a date with your boyfriend.

❀ At first, you assumed that the teacher was only being nice when he lingered longer at your station than others. You presumed that he was being friendly and that, with you and Minghao being the last people he needed to check up on, he stayed to kill time until he needed to introduce the next set of instructions. You failed to notice that Minghao had grown awfully quiet as you conversed. When the teacher reached over to guide the paintbrush in your hand, you started to get the hint that the teacher was trying to hit on you.

❀ Minghao, on the other hand, had been noticing the glances from the teacher since the beginning of the workshop. Although he prided himself in rarely being jealous or upset, the wine made it harder for him to let his gnawing feelings go. He knew his anger was unfair and misplaced, but it didn't make him feel any less upset. Even when you gently let the teacher down by telling him that you and your boyfriend could figure it out yourselves from here, the hurtful feeling persisted.

❀ Thus, when you turned to him afterwards to check on why he had been so quiet, only to be met with a curt Minghao, you began arguing. You knew he was jealous, but he had started to take it out on you. Thus, you did the only thing you knew that could possibly cheer your boyfriend up and shake him out of his jealousy. You took his face gently in your hands, rambling sweet nothings in your native tongue.

❀ Minghao loves hearing you speak in your native language to him, feeling like nothing is more intimate than only him being able to understand the sweet nothings you are saying. He will momentarily blank as he tries to process your sweet words. It is enough to melt away his jealous feelings, making him feel a bit stupid for letting it influence his actions and words (as well as any hope the teacher had to get your number afterwards).

Seungkwan

❀ We all know that Seungkwan likes to nag and tease, not a stranger to playful bickering. Nevertheless, Seungkwan strikes me as someone who is very open with his emotions, preferring to discuss what is bothering him rather than bottling things up. Thus, you two rarely get into actual fights, as he ensures that you two regularly talk about the problems you experience as a couple. At the same time, Seungkwan is a bit of a sensitive boy, and sometimes it is easy to get into arguments with him without either of you meaning to let things escalate. A joke might not land and instead hurts his feelings, leading to an angry and butthurt Boo.

❀ During some of your playful fights, he noticed that you struggled to keep up with his Korean, switching to your native language in frustration when the Korean escaped you. He couldn’t help but feel slightly bad about you having to constantly accommodate him, which is why he devised a plan. Without you knowing, he spend a significant amount of time online skewering the internet to search for basic sentences, mildly insulting phrases and not-too-harsh curse words that he could use if you guys got into another playful argument. Instead of only you having to struggle in Korean, he felt it was only fair for him to wrestle with your native tongue as well.

❀ He finally gets to use it when you guys have a heated discussion over which coffee is the best on one of your many coffee dates; he keeps maintaining that Iced Americano is the best coffee that exists, something that you wholeheartedly disagree with. At first, you are able to respond to him in Korean, easily countering his arguments. However, as the discussion progresses, you can’t help but feel like Seungkwan intentionally is using advanced and eloquent Korean, using words you have never heard before. It doesn’t take long before you start switching out Korean for your native language, trying to hold your ground in the discussion.

❀ It is kind of comical when Seungkwan whips out a list of standard phrases, curse words and insulting sentences in your language, way too eager to use them. Rather than you surprising him by switching languages unconsciously, he is catching you off guard by using your own language against you. He is reading the sentences one by one, and although his pronunciation leaves a lot to be desired, you can tell he put a lot of effort into learning it. You don’t even know whether to be impressed by the fact that he poured so much work into arguing with you in your native language or offended by the, albeit mostly harmless, insults that he is hurling at your head.

Vernon

❀ Vernon strikes me as an emotionally mature person. Therefore, the two of you rarely argue with each other, if at all. Vernon is such a chill guy; it takes a lot to truly get him riled up, and even when he gets emotional, he is capable of maturely handling his emotions. Because of it, you haven’t had any real fights, only mature discussions on how to best navigate whatever problem you two were experiencing in the relationship.

❀ However, there was one thing that you and Vernon could argue for hours about, films. Usually, your film discussions are very civil, with each respecting the other’s opinion even if the other wholeheartedly disagrees. Hence, you guys have made it a routine to put a film on every other night, spending the rest of the evening talking about what you liked or disliked. Both of you enjoyed watching films together in this manner, with the discussions often taking up as much time as watching the films did.

❀ Tonight, however, you made the mistake of putting on a film you adored for nostalgic reasons. The film had been produced in your country, and after searching for it for a while, you had finally found a version with English subtitles. You were incredibly excited to be able to show Vernon the type of films you had grown up with. At first, you thought he was enjoying it; Vernon seemed absorbed as he watched the screen, nodding to himself when he appeared to like a particular scene. Nevertheless, once the film had ended and you eagerly turned to ask him whether he had liked it, he briefly hesitated before calling it mid.

❀ You stared at him in confusion, wondering whether you had been watching the same film. How could he call one of your favourite films mid? Sure, the budget might not have been spectacular compared to a Hollywood blockbuster film, resulting in some questionable CGI and cinematography choices. Still, it was a great film, in your opinion. When you asked him to explain himself, he shrugged, explaining that he simply thought it hadn’t been that good and that both the plot and cinematography left a lot to be desired.

❀ You were greatly offended, and before you knew it, you were heatedly arguing with him. Vernon remained calm rather than matching your energy, explaining that it was okay for you to like a film that just wasn’t his taste. Somehow his indifference annoyed you more, and before you knew it, you were ranting at him that he simply didn’t get how innovative the film was despite the constraints the director had to overcome. Perhaps by being exposed to your native language for such a long time, you brain got reset, and without you being fully aware of it, you had started using your mother tongue. Where before Vernon had been attentively listening, he now seemed lost, alerting you to your accidental mistake.

❀ It was the first time where you had switched languages in his presence, and he realizes that perhaps he had been overly critical. He will gently propose that maybe he was unable to fully enjoy the film as much as you did due to things getting lost in translation. You know he is mostly humouring you, but regardless, it is enough for the one-sided argument to dissipate. How can you stay mad at someone who is the definition of calm and respectful?

Dino/Chan

❀ In retrospect, you should’ve listened to Jeonghan’s warning when you decided to order Soju during dinner. Neither of you had expected to drink, but after a busy workweek, the two of you had decided, “Why the hell not.” You were massively regretting it now, having to deal with a drunk and stubborn Lee Chan.

❀ He refused to do anything you asked of him, and you were practically dragging him through the streets of Seoul, whilst he kept repeating that he wasn’t drunk and could take care of himself. Yeah, sure, he definitely did not keep stumbling over his own feet and was only kept from falling by your grip on his arm. It didn’t help that he kept trying to dislocate himself from you either, claiming that, as your boyfriend, he should be helping you.

❀ It all came to a boiling point when you decided to hail a taxi, too tired and exhausted to continue carrying him. Jeonghan had told you all about stubborn drunk Dino, but you had hoped that you, as his significant other, held enough sway over your boyfriend to coax him into the taxi. Spoiler alert, you didn’t, and instead, the two of you got into an argument. No matter what you said, he kept repeating that he could hail his own taxi. He’s a big boy now.

❀ Maybe it was your sore muscles from carrying him, perhaps it was Dino stupidly refusing your help the entire time or possibly it was the taxi driver warning that he would drive off if the two of you didn’t get in, but suddenly in the midst of your sentence, you switched to your native tongue. In an attempt to get him moving, your tipsy, fuzzy brain resorted to the easiest language for you to yell in. Apparently, that was all it took for Dino to shake himself out of his stubbornness.

❀ The poor guy will be so confused that he’ll easily let you drag him by the arm into the taxi. He can’t determine whether he is truly so drunk that your words have become illegible or that you actually spoke a different language. At the very least, for the time being, you have managed to break through stubbornly drunk Dino, and he lets you guide him whilst he is trying to figure it out in his fuzzy brain.

❀ He will definitely be asking you about it the next morning whilst nursing a massive hangover, thinking it was all a dream.

masterlist

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theemporium · 10 months

Note

Hi bestie hear me out on this prompt, y/n have a thing going on with both Pierre and Daniel and it makes them crazy rivals. Y/n wants to tease Daniel bc he’s ignoring her so she physically flirts with Pierre/hints that they did it and it drives Daniel crazy. Rest is angry punishment rough

i changed it a little but hope you enjoy, thank you for requesting!🖤

Your thing with the Frenchman was nothing serious.

It was something both of you were more than aware of. Something about your personalities just seemed to fit together well and you would go as far as saying Pierre was a good friend of yours. However, there was just something entertaining about flirting with him. It was easy and harmless and he thought the same.

It was nothing serious.

But Daniel never seemed to think so.

Things with the Australian were a little more complicated. He never considered himself a remotely jealous person. He wasn’t usually the type to get insecure or possessive or territorial, but something about watching you stand there—dressed like a fucking goddess—with your hands all over the French driver and your smiles all pointed towards him was irking Daniel in a way that he didn’t think was possible.

There was always a hint of hesitation when things got too heated between you and Daniel. You’d want something more, he was scared that the age difference was too much. You told him you didn’t care, he didn’t want to see you get hurt by the media ripping you to shreds. It was a back and forth you were tired of playing. It was a game of morality you were sick of seeing him play.

You wanted him. You just needed him to make the first move.

Maybe it was unethical and a little wrong, but everybody needed a little push. You knew that Pierre was the push Daniel needed. He had voiced a few times how he felt the younger Frenchman would be more well-fitted for you in the eyes of the media. You knew he held resentment that your relationship with Pierre would never be scrutinised the way it would with him.

And you knew that seeing Pierre with you—seeing him with the girl that belonged to Daniel and Daniel only—would tip him over the edge.

And you were right.

You had walked into the party, completely walking past Daniel and making your rounds with the old friends and colleagues throughout the party. He waited for you to come to him. He waited to be able to get you close enough so he could wrap his arm around your waist, pull you close and whisper how beautiful you looked in your ear to watch you flush at the compliment.

Except you had gone straight to Pierre instead and Daniel had spent the last thirty minutes grumpily brewing in the corner of the room.

The final straw was watching Pierre’s hand rest on the curve of your back, a little too close to your ass for his liking. It was all he needed to drink the remnants of the bubbly drink in his champagne flute and slam it on the table beside him before he made his way over.

He wasn’t in the mood for niceties and he knew, deep down, he would apologise for his behaviour later. But for right now, he made his way over and didn’t give his fellow driver a chance to even open his mouth before he was grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and pulling you away from Pierre, away from everyone.

“Daniel–”

“No. Not yet.”

He was worked up, he was pissed and he certainly did not have the patience to wait for a taxi to get back to the hotel.

You couldn’t help but let out a small squeak when he tugged you into a dark closet, not much light to really make out much. Your chest was rising and falling quickly, your lip tucked between your teeth as he pushed you against the locked door, so close you could make out the darkened look in his eyes.

“Daniel,” you breathed out.

“Now you remember me?” he said with a dry chuckle, his hands on your waist as he squeezed roughly. “You ignored me all night, baby.”

“I know,” you said, not even denying your actions. “You deserved it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did I now? What did Gasly do to deserve your attention then?”

“He isn’t scared to be seen with me,” you said, lifting your chin slightly. “He isn’t embarrassed of me.”

His voice dropped. “You think I’m embarrassed of you?”

“You keep avoiding whatever this is between us, Danny,” you murmured, the hurt clear in your voice.

“Guess I gotta show you and the whole fucking world you’re mine then,” Daniel retorted and before you could even reply, his lips were on you.

The kiss was messy and fast and passionate and you could barely catch your breath. You could feel him everywhere as he pressed his body against yours, his whole prescenes completely engulfing you as you helplessly held onto him.

“Danny,” you whined as your head fell back against the closet door, his lips trailing down your neck.

“You fucking ruin me, baby,” he groaned, his beard and warm breath tickling your skin but you still needed him closer. “Now I’m gonna return the favour and you’re gonna take it like a good girl, yeah?”

You nodded your head.

His fingers gripped your face, squishing your cheeks together. “Words, honey.”

“Ruin me, Danny,” you mumbled out. “Please.”

“Atta girl,” he grumbled, his accent a little thicker as he kissed you deeply before pulling away.

You whined at the loss but not for long as you watched the boy kneel before you. His hands ran up and down your legs, pushing the fabric of your dress until it pooled just beneath your belly button. He then guided one leg over his shoulder, ducking his head down to press a lingering kiss on your clothed cunt.

“Danny—”

“Shhh, gonna give my girl what she wants,” he murmured, his warm breath against your cunt as his fingers hooked the fabric of your soaked panties and pushed them to the side. “Just gotta be patient f’me, alright?”

“Okay,” you sighed, nodding quickly.

“Gonna make you forget about anyone else who's ever touched you, you hear me?” he murmured as his hands squeezed your thighs. He leaned forwards, kissing your swollen clit and smiling a little when you squirmed under his touch. “Gonna make sure my name is the only one you can scream.”

“Please,” you moaned desperately.

“We aren’t fucking leaving until you’re fucking begging for my cock, baby,” Daniel warned you before he nuzzled himself between your legs, his tongue lapping at your cunt until your fingers were tangled in his curls and your thighs were squeezing his head.

You came three times in that closet until Daniel could finally pull himself away from your cunt, his lips and chin glistening with your release as he flashed you a smug grin. He grabbed your face, kissing you lazily as the image of your flushed cheeks and glossy eyes played in his head on a loop.

You barely looked presentable as you both left the closet, no interest in staying at the party or the venue as you made your way towards the valet outside. You could barely keep your hands off him in the car, your fingers eager to wrap around the bugle in his trousers that had been teasing you since your second orgasm. You could barely remember anything but Danny’s name that night as he made you come again and again and again until his pillow was soaked with your tears and his sheets were soaked with your release.

It was safe to say the world knew you were Daniel’s girl, whether it was from the press photos released of you two leaving the party the night before or the fact you entered the paddock with pink and purple bruises littering your neck the next day with the boy grinning proudly next to you.

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animeomegas · 13 days

Note

I live for you and your writings <3

Anyway, I do have a request if you would like to fill it!! - how would the naruto boys (itachi, neji, sasuke, naruto) react to a stranger telling their pup off or/ scolding them for a small little mishap that happened while their back was turn? And they only realize it after a good few minutes of their pup being shouted at?

Hehe ty for all your hard work

Thank you so much!! You're so sweet <3 I really, really loved this prompt; it has taken me so long to finish, but I wanted to to it justice! I've just done Naruto and Itachi and Sasuke. But I really hope people enjoy this one!

WHEN A STRANGER SCOLDS THEIR PUP (Omega! Itachi + Naruto + Sasuke)

ITACHI

Itachi's eldest and only son, Yasu, was a very independent and responsible little boy, even though he was only 7.

So it came as no surprise when Yasu asked if he could wait outside the nesting shop instead of coming in with Itachi, because it was a beautiful day and he wanted to stand in the sun.

Itachi was originally hesitant, but with his newborn strapped to his chest, he begrudgingly agreed, knowing that it would be unfair for him to expect Yasu to be mature when it came to his baby sister, without giving him any of the benefits of that maturity.

"You must stay touching this wall at all times," Itachi said seriously, taking his little pup's hand and pressing it against the front wall of the nesting shop. "No leaving this wall unless you're coming inside the shop to find me, promise?"

"I promise," Yasu said, a serious smile on his little round face. "You can trust me, oma."

"I know, my love," Itachi whispered. He pressed a kiss to Yasu's forehead. "I won't take long."

"Okay, don't worry, oma, I'm a big brother now!"

Itachi laughed gently, standing and patting his son on the head as he did. His son was so much like him, and yet nothing like him at all.

But things only stayed sweet for about ten minutes.

Because as Itachi was wandering around looking for a new blanket for Yasu (a strategy other parents had recommend so that he didn't resent his new sister for taking up so much of Itachi's time), he heard crying.

He heard Yasu crying.

He dropped the basket to the ground with a clatter and ran out of the shop as quickly as he could, cradling his newborn safely to his chest.

What he saw caused a flash of anger so hot, he wasn't surprised when his sharigan activated on instinct.

There was a man, towering over his son, shouting and spitting at him, a large finger pointing accusatorily at Yasu's face.

Yasu's face was red as he choked on his tears. His little hand was still pressed up against the wall, but it now shook in time with his sobs.

Itachi's fingers latched onto the man's wrist with an iron grip, twisting the arm with the precision of a shinobi, just enough to hurt, but not quite enough to break. All at once, those shinobi instincts came flooding back even after all these years. He wanted to hurt this man for making his son cry, and he knew full well that he could do it.

"What do you think you are doing shouting at my son?" he said coldly, instead of breaking the man's spine like he desired.

The man's face went pale immediately. Itachi squeezed his wrist harder when the man didn't immediately reply.

"I- I-" the man stuttered, losing even more colour from his face. "I was just..."

"Not good enough," Itachi said coldly, sharigan spinning. The man whimpered pathetically. Itachi had no patience for bullies, especially those targeting his family.

Itachi held eye contact with the man for a few moments longer before he suddenly released the grip he had on the man's wrist and deactivated his sharigan. The man stumbled backwards and just barely avoided falling to the floor.

"Leave," he said coldly. The man wasted no time in doing as he was told and Itachi, despite having been the one to tell him to go, had to supress the urge to follow and eliminate the threat to his pup.

"O-Om-oma- oma," Yasu choked, tears and snot streaming down his face. He held one arm up in the universal request to be picked up, but he seemed too scared to stop touching the wall and approach Itachi himself. "O-Oma, I-I- didn't-"

Itachi suppressed the anger as best as he could and dropped down beside Yasu so that they were eye to eye. Yasu immediately barrelled into his side, still careful to avoid his baby sister.

"I'm so-sorry, oma, I didn't me-mean to! He said- he said- but you said I- I- couldn't move a-a-and-" he wailed, pushing his face into Itachi's collar bones and gripping his clothes tightly.

Itachi shushed him, "It's alright, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong." He rubbed Yasu's back firmly, anger burning through his veins as he felt his pup's tiny shoulders shake. While Itachi didn't know what had caused the conflict, there was nothing that Yasu could have done to warrant such a disgustingly aggressive reaction.

His newborn, clearly unhappy with being smushed, soon started up her own wailing, until Itachi was crouched outside the nesting shop with two distraught pups.

Itachi could feel himself becoming frazzled as none of his attempts to calm either child worked at all. People were giving him looks, some kind and some less so, and while he had never cared much what random people thought of his parenting, it was a stark reminder that he was far from the safety of home.

"Itachi?"

Itachi actually sighed in relief when he heard you come up beside him. You were planning on meeting him here after he finished shopping, but thankfully, you seemed to be a little early.

Itachi didn't waste any time greeting you, he simply scooped the wailing baby out of the sling on his chest and passed her to you.

"What happened?" you asked, sounding baffled as you accepted the infant and immediately began soothing her. Itachi ignored you and readjusted Yasu so that he could hug him properly. The boy cried heavily into his shoulder, but at least Itachi could fully cocoon him and keep him safe from the outside world now.

It took a few minutes, but with two pairs of hands and the ability to pick Yasu up properly, both the pups started to settle, their wails turning into little sniffles.

Itachi's face must still have promised murder however, because you kept your eyes focused warily on the surroundings and didn't ask for clarification on what had happened again.

"We're going home, darling, I promise we'll be there soon." As far as Itachi was concerned upset pups needed to be at home where it was safe, so he immediately abandoned the idea of finishing his shopping.

You followed his lead and you both made it home in record time, Itachi holding Yasu and you cradling the baby. Neither of you spoke as you walked. There was a mutual understanding that you'd address what happened after you were safe.

By the time you got home, both pups had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

"What happened?" you asked quietly as you gently closed the front door behind you. "Is Yasu alright?"

Itachi took a breath to smother the barely contained burning rage, "Some fully grown adult," he emphasised the word like it was the worst insult possible, "thought it appropriate to shout at Yasu when he was waiting outside the nesting shop."

"For what reason?" you asked, baffled and angry.

"I don't care." Itachi's voice was tinged with a growl and his hands flexed protectively around Yasu. "I believe he was too frightened to get the words out regardless."

You snorted, "Good."

Itachi's smile was tinged with gleeful cruelty, "Indeed."

NARUTO

When people asked him what he disliked most about being Hokage, Naruto would always make a joke about paperwork.

That answer wasn't exactly incorrect, as he did find the paperwork tedious and irritating, but it wasn't actually the part he disliked the most.

The part that he disliked the most was how much the job kept him away from his family.

Especially his three-and-a-half year old son, Riku, who was the most precious person in the world and who was also having a hard time adjusting to Naruto not being at home as much, even though it had been almost a year since he took up the role.

He tried to make as much time as he could for Riku, sending a clone to tuck him in at night, spending his lunch break eating with him (and his mate) in his office, hell, Naruto even had a tiny pair of noise cancelling earmuffs in his desk so that Riku could sit on his lap while Naruto heard mission reports.

It wasn't perfect and it didn't feel like enough, but it was all the Naruto could do at the moment.

And today was one of the days that you and Riku would be joining him for lunch in his office.

Unfortunately, a spontaneous mission debriefing had started before he could slink away for lunch.

And while Naruto knew that it was not this team's fault that their mission had increased in rank and thus required an immediate verbal debrief, (this had happened to Naruto himself more times than he could count), he was finding it hard not to feel frustrated with the group in front of him.

They were keeping him away from his son which was making him antsy.

A glance at the clock confirmed that his family were certainly waiting for him outside by now, and the guilt was difficult to push down.

It was at that moment that the door to his office suddenly creaked open. Naruto's eyes jumped automatically to it as the team leader stopped speaking. Naruto's secretary knew he was in a meeting, so who was at the door?

At a much lower height than expected, the intruder's chubby little cheeks peaked nervously around the door. His tiny hands were held cautiously to his chest while he chewed on his bottom lip, but it was the head of bright blond hair that had Naruto's heart jumping into his throat.

It was Riku.

Naruto was already half way out of his seat when Riku finally saw him. His whole body relaxed and a smile crept onto his face as he toddled into the room. Naruto felt his own exhaustion melt away in response; his son was the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

"Oma!" his son cheered. "You're here!"

Naruto laughed, forgetting all about the debrief, as he moved around his desk. "Of course, I'm here, silly. Where's appa? How did you-"

Suddenly, another person entered the room, his face twisted angrily. He grabbed Riku by the wrist, startling him and Naruto in the process.

"What did I say?!" the man, Naruto's secretary, demanded, squeezing Riku's wrist. "I told you to wait quietly, and that you weren't allowed in yet, but you barged your way in when my back was turned! Out! Right now! I'm so sorry, Hokage-sama, I won't let this happen again."

Naruto had heard far worse from far scarier people when he was Riku's age, but Riku wasn't like him. He wasn't capable of the bravado and retaliation that Naruto had used to limp through his childhood, no. Riku was a sensitive child. He needed everyone to like him, to be gentle with him, and Naruto knew that he wouldn't be able to cope with such blatant negative attention.

Naruto watched as his pup's anxiety spiked, and he felt his heart drop in response. Riku's wide eyes bubbled over with heavy tears that covered his little flushed cheeks. His mouth moved like he was trying to speak, but he was simply too frightened to get any words out.

Naruto's secretary was not happy with the lack of movement. "Out, now!"

Riku was frozen, and when the man tugged him, knocking him off balance, all the colour drained from his face and his breathing became harsh and disjointed. To make things worse, his darling pup, who had only been out of nappies for a short few months, lost control of his bladder from fear.

Naruto saw red. A wave of killing intent swept over the room. It was so strong that Naruto was distantly aware that his guard was shifting nervously where they were hidden, and that several members of the debriefing team had fallen to their knees. Naruto only had eyes for one person though.

Naruto's secretary dropped his hold on Riku like he'd been burnt and fell heavily into the door frame, shoulder first. Naruto had fought in a war, but he'd never moved as fast as he did in that moment, as he planted himself between his secretary and his son.

"Get. Out," Naruto ground out, somehow keeping control of his voice. Naruto had never attacked a civilian, and he didn't want to start now, but if this man wasn't out of his sight in the next three seconds, something was going to snap.

Thankfully, the man didn't need to be told twice. With a terrified face and wobbly limbs, he stumbled out of the office with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. Naruto felt no guilt when he heard the man retching on the floor.

Wasting no time, Naruto spun around and grabbed his pup up and into the safety of his embrace. He didn't pay any attention to the dampness, and some of the furious anxiety left him as soon as his instincts registered that his child was safe with him.

Riku was still very stiff, but he did reach out and grab Naruto's collar. His breathing was worryingly sporadic.

Naruto cooed and purred at his pup, rocking him gently from side to side. His rage was still bubbling below the surface, but he kept his outward presentation comforting and gentle.

"Oma's here," he whispered into his pup's hair. "Oma's got you. You're safe, Riku."

Naruto sat back down in his chair and arranged Riku on his lap so that he was cocooned in his Hokage's robes. He then grabbed the earmuffs from his desk and slipped them over his pup's ears to help him calm down.

The team that had been debriefing were still stood awkwardly in front of his desk. They were all back to standing upright, but they seemed unsure of what to do seeing as it was hardly appropriate to continue the debriefing, but they also hadn't been dismissed.

"You guys can go. Just leave the report on my desk."

They all bowed and scurried out of the room.

Naruto ended up sitting there in silence for a few minutes, just processing what had happened while he calmed down his son.

He hated using his power to make others afraid. He loved being a friendly hokage that everyone could trust and look up to. But he had been so angry that he had lost control.

He was still angry, if he was being honest with himself.

And he also felt guilty. Because that small part of him that always questioned whether this job was a selfish desire, was suddenly so much louder.

This wouldn't have happened if he had been at home with his family for lunch like most parents with young children.

He was broken out of his thoughts when you arrived, fresh from your bathroom break, having walked into the aftermath of chaos.

Of course you were there; you always joined them for lunch, it had just escaped Naruto's mind until you were in front of him.

Riku had calmed down a lot, but he was still staring at the wall, holding Naruto as tightly as he could with his little hands.

"What happened?" you asked quietly, coming straight over to him and Riku. You smoothed a hand over Riku's hair and crouched down beside him. He kept one hand on Naruto and latched the other one onto your hand as soon as you were in range.

Naruto just shook his head, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. "Let's just head home. Riku needs a change of clothes and a nice bath with lots of bubbles."

To your credit, you didn't ask why, you simply nodded and allowed Riku to bury himself in your arms while Naruto gathered his things. He wasn't coming back into the office today, and he told you as much.

"Are you sure?" He pretended that your surprise didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Yes," Naruto said shortly. He needed to find a better way to balance his job and his family, because this just wasn't cutting it.

"Okay," you said easily, rocking Riku. "Let's head home then. We can talk there."

SASUKE

Some people called Sasuke an overprotective parent, but Sasuke knew that his parenting style was entirely justified.

If someone was rude to his daughter, they deserved to have their life ruined as far as he as concerned.

If teachers made up lies about her, Sasuke would refuse to listen.

If his daughter was bullied, Sasuke would go and... speak... to the parents of the bully to 'encourage' them to be better parents.

This was an entirely normal response in his opinion. That was his daughter, his child, and while he sometimes struggled to verbalise his love, his daughter would never question his dedication to her.

She was still only seven, and needed his protection.

One day, when he was walking to meet her halfway from school, he noticed that she wasn't alone.

A tall woman, much too old to be a peer from school, was standing close, shoving her finger in his daughters face. His daughter didn't look cowed. She was staring, with her arms crossed, but this didn't stop the woman from her tirade.

She started shouting about how rude his daughter was, and how that was to be expected when her oma was the village pariah.

How dare she?!

He acted without thinking.

The kunai flew from his hand before Sasuke had even registered the movement, piercing the hand of the woman who had been pointing aggressively at his pup's face.

She shrieked as the pain registered and blood began running down her arm. Sasuke watched, stoic faced, as he walked towards them. The only emotions her pain brought to him were positive ones.

His daughter whirled around and he was privileged enough to see her face turn from confused to delighted as she recognised him. She was truly the light of his life.

"Oma!" she cheered, happily. He nodded back, a small smile on his face. He was proud to see that she didn't look scared at all, but that certainly didn't excuse the adult that had been shouting at her.

"Are you crazy?!" the woman hissed, holding her hand to her chest. Her face was twisted with rage and pain instead of fear, which cemented her in Sasuke's mind as an idiot. "They'll take away your shinobi licence for this!"

Another kunai found its place in his hand. These kunai really had a mind of their own today. "Are you threatening me? After you so blatantly attacked my daughter?"

"Attacked?! That rude little-"

The kunai flew from his hand again, this time flying less than an inch from her ear. It shut her up immediately.

"Choose your next words carefully." His daughter came over to his side and hugged him around the hips. He rested a hand affectionately on her head.

"I'll be reporting this to the hokage," she hissed. Sasuke was not scared; the worst thing Naruto would do is give him a disappointed look. His lack of fear must have shown on his face because the lady stormed off, far less injured than Sasuke would have liked.

Sasuke watched her go before he knelt down to his daughter's level and scanned her from head to toe. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She grinned at him and adjusted her school bag on her shoulder. "That asshole couldn't have scared me if she tried."

"Language," Sasuke admonished gently, poking her in the forehead.

"Am I wrong, though?"

Privately, Sasuke agreed. "Let's just head home, your appa should be along any minute."

When you did meet up with them, you had to listen to your daughter singing about how she had the coolest oma in the world.

And when you wholeheartedly agreed, Sasuke could no longer keep the blush off his face.

#a/b/o #omegaverse #itachi #naruto #sasuke #headcanons #alpha!reader #hcs #reader insert #alpha reader #omega itachi #omega naruto #omega sasuke #gn reader #gender neutral reader #omega x alpha

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druidrot · 4 months

Note

so i was looking at the other parts of the ways to show emotion prompt list and part 3 has some great lists so i was hoping you could do “opening mouth slightly” pupils dilating” and “licking lips” with Gale from the how to show desire prompts 👀👀 no worries if not, congrats on the new blog!

thanks so much! and thanks for being my first requester! i’m happy to oblige. now i’m posting on mobile so i apologize if the formatting is wonky. with that being said, enjoy!

just a short little drabble, unsure of word count

pairing: gale dekarios x reader

rating: mature - more suggestive than anything else;)

he’s allowed to have fun at the tiefling party okay?? just let me have this. i get it’s canon divergent just shut up and let me be horny

It was here Gale felt his resolve crumble.

He prides himself on his self-control. In fact, he thinks he’s been a saint since he joined your adventuring party, since this painfully slow dance started between you both.

But he feels his patience waring thin. The tiefling party at the camp has no doubt been a success. He waited patiently as you did your rounds accepting their gifts and thanks so very graciously. He bid his time as you danced and sung and drank with everybody else, working your sweet charm on them.

He knows better, though. He thinks you are a different person under the cover of moonlight, here where you stare up at him with half-lidded, glassy eyes, lips pulled up in the sweetest little smile. You still hold your chalice of wine but your free hand has taken to his, twirling your fingers around his long, narrow digits. He feels his mouth drop open as you take a step closer, your pupils dilating until the beautiful color of your iris is all but hidden.

Around you, the little celebration rages on. In the distance, you can hear Karlach whooping over some drinking game the rowdier of the bunch had taken to playing. Just down the camp from you, Alfira sings a lovely ballad of lover’s lost, Lakrissa bobbing her head from a few paces down.

Gale should be excited about the festivities, elated with the things your party accomplished, ready to drink his troubles away for the night. Instead, he finds himself totally enamored with you., eyes locked on your every movement. He doesn’t know when you became so intoxicating to him, but in this moment, he finds he can’t complain.

“You look like the tressym got your tongue,” you whisper, sidling even closer. “My my, have you been brooding here because I’ve not paid you any attention? Or is saving poor helpless refugees not really your speed?”

You bump your nose against his as your tongue wets your lips. His eyes are immediately drawn to the action and he has to physically fight the urge to rush forward and kiss you. Instead, he grins roguishly at you.

“Quite the rotten little minx, you are,” he teases. taking a step back to cool his body. “Go enjoy yourself, darling. Besides, I’m sure there’s quite the line to get a dance with you tonight. You’ll have plenty of time to harass me later.”

“What if I want to harass you right now? What if I want to spend all night harassing you?”

Gale feels like he’s on fire. Before either of you can really process, he pulls you into a slow, heady kiss.

“You will be the death of me,” he pants between desperate kisses. “You will be the death of us all.”

He is quick to escalate, despite his warning and his lips grow frenetic as he chases your tongue with his, pushing into your mouth with a sense of urgency you didn’t think him capable of. He pulls your body close, impossibly so, and you can do nothing but moan as he continues to kiss you.

“The orb,” Gale tries, whimpering between consuming kisses.

“Don’t blow up on me,” is your only retort, happily losing yourself to the weight of his kiss.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale dekarios fanfiction #reader insert #bg3 x reader #gale fanfic #ask #rotwrites

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k2ntoss · 2 months

Note

Omg omg omg

Pls do “shit— do that again” and “this is so wrong” with dickie grayson pretty please

(The second prompt gives enemies to lovers vibes SO MUCH, so if it’s included the better.)

— ❤️‍🩹 xx

SECOND ANON WITH AN EMOJI, LET'S FUCKING CELEBRATE!! first of all, thank you so much for this request, i have an idea buzzing into my head and if i don't post it i'll go insane (i'm already insane) and second... i'm listening to the weeknd so yeah....

“do that again- shit, just like that, right there.” + "this is wrong... so wrong." (plus enemies to lovers trope omg yes please!!!)

dick has never been known to be a bad detective, his partners adore him and so does every kid and person he helps, he does his job so well everyone is aware that whenever he's got a new case he will be at it all the time but there is just one person that doesn't really agrees with that, dick knows it and it gets on his nerves because it's always just his cases and investigations the ones that you observe and deny before they reach the court.

he really hated the moment he had to go present his case to the prosecutor, mostly when it was you who was assigned to it and what's worse it's that dick knows that you take it personal because there's no way on earth you let mobs or criminals to pay for justice and that is pretty much clear when you have an amazing percentage of cases won where criminals end up getting what they deserve.

"you have to be joking," at this point is almost a routine. dick arrives to your office with a folder filled with documents and reports from the officers and his own, a box full of evidence he picked up and sent to check to the labs, all the signed paperwork and the hope that you won't send him back to re-do all the work from zero "everything is in that folder!"

"detective, would you lower your damn voice?" you'd ask him, the snark on your tone is upsetting and dick has to take a deep breath to cool down a bit "there are several forms you haven't filled, how do you expect me to work like this?" and it was true, paperwork was important even if everyone hated doing it.

"you can't return the whole investigation for a couple of stupid papers! it's a big case, if you return it to the station we'll have to let the criminals go because the time runs up." dick is starting to lose every trace of patience and good will he has, hands gripping the fabric of his trousers and his hands clench a little more when you look at him, unamused and with any intention to help him.

"i can't help you if you don't bring everything in order, not to say that there are so many things that don't make sense on your files," you say, reading through some pages "this doesn't looks like a real detective's work, how do you expect me to do anything with this?" you leave the folder down, looking at him with your arms crossed over your chest and leaning back on the chair behind your desk.

dick is about to scream, you're telling him his work sucks and sending him back to do it all over again when he is sure there are cases pilling up back in the station but he has to hold it back. it's weird that the person he despises the most isn't some villain he fights at night but a prosecutor that he desperately wants to shut up for once and for all.

you are way too cocky for your own good and since the first case you dismised from his hands he has wanted to show you why he had the reputation he had, he's fighting his rage right now because he knew that in this case you were right and it would be stupid to keep pushing but he was too stubborn and a little too lost on how much he liked to get in your nerves.

"there's no way you can't help me with that case," he says and dick's voice is now an indicator of how upset he is feeling, not only because of you dismissing his work but also because this time he wasn't right (not that he has been before, he always forgot a paper or the whole background of a piece of evidence because he was too distracted on thinking how jolly the moment would be when you'd had to accept his work) "you just don't want to do it and that's bullshit, you should be dismissed from all the station's cases because this is personal."

"detective grayson," you warn him, if it was on your hands you'd help him just as you always tried to help but as a prosecutor you had to stick to the rules and make sure your coworkers did just the same "i'd suggest you to lower your tone and keep your emotions in check, the fact that i can't work with this investigation it's not my fault." you said, letting the folder fall back on your desk before standing up.

there went the last string of patience and good will dick had, he stood up but stayed still until you started walking your way to the door and he'd be lying if your figure wasn't distracting him a little bit with the way that greenish button up shirt hung a little loose on your shoulders but gave a hint of your figure. he had to shake his thoughts away and as soon as he saw your hand reaching for the door he darted towards you, pushing the door closed shut again and standing a little too close to you.

dick is hovering over you, looking down as his eyes fix on yours and there's no way to hide the surprise of the sudden outburst that causes you to flinch a little.

"you think so high of yourself, y/n," dick hisses as his eyes narrow, he leans in closer and it sends a spark that danced between anger and pure expectation from what he could do "you think that you make the fucking calls and that is just so upsetting, i wish i could just bring you down from that cloud and show you just what you are." he points at you and it's distracting because dick grayson has always managed to keep his anger in check.

"keep your emotions in check, detective" it was another warning, it came throught gritted teeth and narrowed eyes as you stand still ready to snap back at him on the first chance "am i the one that thinks too high of themself? let me break it to you, grayson, at least i'm trying to do my job as i have to."

the banter between you two has always been a little more snarky and less heated, not to be taken so serious because what you wanted to do was to push dick to do his absolute best so you could also help people to be safe out on the streets, living their lives but this time was just different because there was something else fueling the words.

there's a spark that ignites inside of dick as soon as your words hit close to home and next thing you know is that you're being cornered against the door of your office and he managed to inmobilize you; he grabs your shoulder to turn you around, his right leg between yours and his face right next to yours.

"you think you're better than the rest of us just because you get to take the credit of putting the bastards we catch behind bars but you just have to sit pretty here," he speaks lowly into your ear, his tone making it clear that he was letting it all out, months of bottled up frustration flowing out of him "you do nothing but talk, that's all that mouth of yours can do and it was just time someone put you in your place."

"richard grayson, you better back the fuck up now or–" you start, the warning hanging in the air and interrupted by a low grunt that just escaped your lips when he pressed a bit more against you just to mess with your nerves, causing his thigh to press a bit more between your legs and sending a jolt through your spine that mixed with all the emotions "do that again– shit," and even tho he is surprised and a little taken aback by your reaction he complies, moving closer until he could feel his leg pressed up against your clothed core and he decided to grind it teasingly "just like that, right there..."

"that's all it takes to turn off your brain?" he asks mockingly, his hand pressed between your shoulders as his lips brush against your era and it's easy to hear the smirk on dick's voice "pin you against the door and let you grind yourself against my thigh? it's pathetic how a smartmouth like you turns to a puddle when someone touches your cunt like this."

yeah, it's pathetic because he managed to shut you up without even trying and he's proud of it. his hand trails down your back until it reaches the lower part of it making sure to hold your body in a way you couldn't move your hips to grind on his thigh.

"go on, why don't you move?" he asks teasingly, his hand pressing harder when he felt the jerk of your hips and an amused laugh escapes his throat when you grunt frustrated "who would have thought that miss great prosecutor was such a desperate little slut." and he could have stopped there, make you help him because you'd be too embarrased to deny him anything after putting this show for him but dick decided to lean in and press a lingering kiss on your neck that made your breath catch on your throat.

"dick– fuck, don't be such an ass" you say in a hoarse tone, looking at the ceiling as you try to rock your hips once again, feeling yourself able to do so when dick's hand wanders from your back to your stomach and then up, resting between your breasts as he breathes you in.

"pretty fucked up, isn't it?" he asks against your neck, nibbling on the side of your neck as his fingers start undoing the buttons of your shirt while you grind against his thigh and everything feels so forbidden, one of your hands moving to lock the door because there was no way you'd let yourself get caught being groped by the detective you've told all your department you hated.

it wasn't news for your coworkers that dick and you had a long history of not getting alone but truth be told, you just wanted to make dick give his best because that would also allow you to give your best. it was a win-win, if only he saw it that way because you weren't trying to buy more time for the criminals to make up evidence or build new alibis or get fake witnesses.

dick gets your shirt open, his hands messily working on pulling your bra down and growling lowly when he saw your breasts spilling out against the door, his eyes moving from your chest to the way your features contorted from the way you were getting yourself off like this. with every jerk of your hips he could feel your ass pressed against his cock, the bulge inside his dressing pants now hard in a way you could feel it againt your body.

he lets go of you, turning you around and ignoring your grunt when you were left without that pleasurable feeling on your aching pussy. his hands gripping your hips as he presses a hungry kiss on your lips, demanding and bruising between the smirk it draws from him when you kiss him back with the same need as your hands undo his shirt, pulling it away from his body as he manages to walk until he is sitting on your desk with you sitting on his lap.

the messy making out is only interrupted when the clothes come out of your body, heavy breathing as he squeezes and gropes your flesh into his hands in a rush of pure lust that's fueled by the way your wetness feels when pressed against his hard on as he moves you to tease your pussy, his shaft moving between your folds and the wet sounds are only muffled by the low moans and growls you both try to keep as low as you can.

"this is wrong..." you say breathlessly, feeling how dick picks your body up with his arm around your waist as his free hand lines his tip with your entrance and he grunts into your neck when you are the one that slides down on him with your eyes closed shut "so wrong, god."

it's not much when your body moves on its own, going up and down on his cock as he looks up at you, hands gripping your waist to hold you as his lips are around one of your nipples, sucking and licking at it while your nails sink into the skin of his shoulders.

you'd never set yourself into this kind of situations but there was no time to think about how wrong this was when it felt so good, the way he filled you up as you rode him slowly, teasing him to grip your hips in order to set the pace to make you bounce on him.

"you look so good like that, fuck," he whispers against your chin when you start grinding on him, his hands on your hips so hard that his fingers bruise your skin as he thrusts deeper into your pussy "so desperate fucking yourself like a bitch in heat, you think you're using my cock for your pleasure but you're nothing but a pretty toy."

his words work as a turn on, the way he looks at you with hunger and need as he pounds harshly inside your cunt makes you moan without care on who could hear you.

"you look so pretty like that, so tight around me" he grunts into your ear and it's right there when he takes the lead, setting a fast pace as he holds your hips to make your body bounce "you like it like this? when you're being used like a dirty whore, sweetheart?"

"i like it so much, fuck–" you whine and the sound of your voice makes him chuckle, this was pretty bad because the degrading words were making you needier and the way you couldn't hide it made you appear more like a slut for him, clenching around him the closer you got to your climax as he hit all the right spots with each thrust he gave.

it was hard to talk for you, between moans and whines of pure delight that came after each stroke dick made as he kissed your jaw but he had no problem on doing it while his hand moved and reached that space on your pussy.

his thumb pressed against your clit made you shiver into his arms, whinning pathetically as he played with your sensitivity with a wide grin "look at the little mess you are, always so collected and now you're here with your legs all spread for me to fuck you into a brainless slut."

"dick– i'm close" you say, eyes teary and voice broken as your face finds a place into the crook of his neck but it's not too much time until he finds your gaze, leaning in to press a reassuring kiss into your lips before he pulls back and nods, thrusting in a faster pace and with deeper strokes.

"c'mon, cum for me, sweetheart." he growls against your ear, both hands holding your waist as your movements become sloppier and erratic, the tension on your belly building more and more until your orgasm hits your whole body making your walls clench tighter around him "that's it, that's a fucking good girl... i'll pull out now, yeah?"

and he doesn't wait for your response, knowing you won't be able to think straight while you were still on your high and with you still straddling his lap dick moves, strocking his cock until he is throbbing into his fist before he reaches his own climax, painting your stomach with those milky white streaks.

maybe, just maybe now he could find a way to fix his work without feeling so upset about it.

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ceilidho · 9 months

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no worries if you're not feeling this! I know you said your wrist is giving you trouble so I would so much rather you prioritize yourself and your health over any writing!!

that said, I am so digging this knight ghost situation. after reading the last prompt about it, I'm seeing some potential for a battle of wills situation. ghost waiting for the princess to ask (beg) for what she wants but she's too prim and proper to say it and she's confused as well, all like why has this dude who I'm married to not made a move on me?? and ghost has so much patience, he'll just wait and wait until she absolutely can't take it any more and then idk, you're the master!!!

again again, I hope you're feeling well soon and if this is not your vibe it's all good in the hood. btw I love all of your writing and I wish I could grind it up and make a delicious shake out of it❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for being so kind!!! Wrist is feeling a lot better today because I did some exercises with it yesterday <3

Ghost's patience is endless, of course. He endures month and sometimes year long campaigns with little creature comforts. Even when he comes home, he doesn't really indulge in any of the comforts of home because he knows that it's temporary. He'll be called upon again by his king the next time there's a need for his service.

So at home with his princess, it's easy to deny her. It's almost a game, whether she'll break first (anticipated) or whether he finally will (not likely, but the odds never quite hit zero).

She's the first thing that ever really made him question his ascetic code; if anything was going to tempt him to indulge, it would be his pretty new wife wrapped in her winter furs and badgering him about repairs to the stables (he loves listening to her complain; she's so tight lipped around her family and doesn't really speak her mind, but after months as his wife, she's gotten comfortable expressing herself with Ghost).

And it's so so cute watching her struggle to bring up the subject of their marriage bed with him. She hints at it and talks circles around it, about how it's not proper for her to have her own chambers and how her parents expect her to be with child by the spring, but she doesn't just come out and say it. She's always on the verge of a temper tantrum, like she might stomp her foot about it because her warrior husband won't take her to bed even though she worried for days before their wedding that she'd have to endure his appetites.

Ghost knows he's going to give in eventually, but they'll never be able to wait like this again so he enjoys it while it's happening :)))

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #knight!ghost

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the-way-of-words · 9 months

Text

You Drive Me Crazy // prompt fic

Hi there! Sorry it's taking me some time to get to the smut prompts... ✨life✨ is a thing and sometimes it's hard, but thank you for your patience! @thebadchic asked for Noah with #30 "You don't understand how angry I am right now." and #50 "You're all mine." - "Mhm" - "Say it." - "I'm all yours." Content warnings: jealousy, rough-ish sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling Contains sexual situations with a fictionalized version of a real person. This is fiction. It's not real, it never happened. Scroll on if that's not your thing

Enjoy!

Master list can be found here

The door slams behind Noah as he follows you into the house, leaning against the doorway as you turn to him. “Will you just let it go?”

“No.” He retorts, “Because you don’t understand how angry I am right now.”

Rolling your eyes, you plant your hands on your hips. “Are you kidding me? I know exactly how angry you are right now.” You scoff before you take a step forward, “I know you Noah. I smiled at your friend a little too much and you got all twisted.”

His jaw ticks and you know you’re right. It may be playing with fire but you keep going anyway. “Do I need to remind you we’re not exactly in a relationship here… You’re too busy for one of those, remember? We’re both free to explore other options as long as we’re up front with one another. Your rules.”

You’re pushing it and you know it. What started out as a string of casual one offs quickly turned into something more when both of you found it increasingly harder to leave the other’s bed the morning after. It hurt, when you eventually had the talk and he let you know as much as he liked you, he couldn’t do a relationship right now and while you’re not one to sit and wait around for a guy; there was something about Noah that kept you coming back.

There had to be something about you too, because he’s the one that joined you in the cab after you decided to head home for the night.

“It was more than that and you know it.” Noah says, leaning forward to get into your space a little. “You seem to forget, I know exactly how you flirt, how you look when you’re hoping to get some.”

He’s right and you were. But running into him and a friend of his you had only met a handful of times had been an accident. Even so, you couldn’t deny that Davis was cute and when he started flirting with you, who were you to say no? It was harmless, really, but you’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of you that got a little excited. Especially when the man’s hand landed on your thigh and you could feel Noah’s eyes burning into when his friend’s thumb rubbed back and forth over the black denim of your jeans.

“So what, Noah? I’m sorry I got a little close with Davis, but once again… I’m not yours.”

He pushes away from your door, stepping into your space and even though you’d never tell him, you feel yourself grow wet as you tilt your head back to look at him. “You sure about that?” He asks. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’m the one you’ve been calling when you need a little release. When you need someone to hold you down and fuck you into next week.”

“Well,” you say, placing your hands on his chest before you lightly push him away, “maybe I’m tired of being in limbo. Maybe I want something more… and maybe Davis could be the one to give it to me.”

Noah grabs you by the waist as your turn from him, pushing you against the wall, “See, I don’t think so,” he says, laughing derisively, “I bet if I stick my hand inside these pants of yours, you’d be wet for me… Not Davis, me.”

You snort, yet you don’t stop him when he undoes the button of your jeans, nor when he pulls the zipper down.. “Are you sure about that?” Your head moves against the wall as you meet his gaze defiantly, “I caught myself staring at his mouth a couple times tonight, he seems like he’d be able to show me a good time. I wonder how that beard of his would feel on my thighs… or how that long hair would feel between my fingers. Do you think he’d let me pull it while he--”

He smirks, leaning in to speak quietly into your ear before slipping his hand into your panties, “Because you’re mine.” You try to roll your eyes at him when he moves his head back, but then his fingers are brushing against you, a sound somewhere between a choked gasp and moan falling from your lips. You’re wet, just like he knew you would be and before you can feel any sort of discontent at his victory, he’s rubbing soft circles around your clit. Pleasure burns low in your belly, his clever fingers touching you exactly how you want it.

“Yeah,” he says, lowly, “thought so.”

You can hear the triumph in his voice and before you’re even aware of it, you’re pushing him away from you.

Caught off guard, he stumbles backwards a few steps, and you follow, fisting your hands in his shirt, uttering a soft shut up as you pull his mouth to yours. The kiss almost feels like a fight; you nip at his lip taking the sensitive flesh between our teeth and he answers by shoving his tongue into your mouth. You’re not even aware you’re moving until the two of you bump into your couch and you push him down, letting him pull your jeans to the floor. Your hands work at his pants quickly, pulling the waistband as soon as they’re unbuttoned as shoving them down his thighs before you straddle his lap.

“I can’t fucking believe you—” he cuts off, gasping when your hand closes around his shaft, tugging him teasingly, your thumb brushing against his tip. “I can’t fucking believe you.” Noah says again, words pressed against your lips, one of his hands tangling in your hair as you sink down onto him.

You take him deep, rolling your hips desperately, crying out when the hand in your hair tugs your head back so he can lick and suck at your throat.

“God, you drive me crazy.” He bites out, nipping at your throat a little harder as if to prove a point.

Your hips twist. “Fuck, Noah. I know… I know.” Because you do. You feel the same way; no one has ever managed to get under your skin quite the way he has.

He pulls your head towards his, grunting when you clench around him, “You’re all mine.”

You don’t understand what he’s saying at first, too consumed with the slick drag of his cock along your walls as you move over him; until those big hands of his close around your hips, stopping your movement. “You’re all mine. Aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” and it’s true; you are. You have been for a while now, as much as you’ve tried to fight it. But that doesn’t seem to be what he wants to hear because he still doesn’t release you, doesn’t let you move.

“Say it.” He says, punctuating the words with a shallow thrust up into you. His hands tighten around your hips, fingers flexing when you grind your hips into his. It's only a small movement, with the grip he’s got on you, but it lights you up all the same. You moan, digging your fingers into his shirt where it rests on his shoulders. “Come on,” he says, bumping your nose with his as he lets you continue to grind on him, “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I-I’m all yours.”

“That’s right… No one else’s but mine.” His hold is still strong, but now he uses it to kickstart your movement, moving you back and forth on his cock until you pick up the rhythm. “Oh fuck,” he curses, “Fuck, c’mon, touch yourself for me… please.”

Nodding, you grant his request, working your fingers between you to play with your clit. It only takes a few strokes until you're clamping down on him, eyes rolling back as you feel the heat in your belly explode and you cry out.

Noah grunts, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he chases his own release; voice cutting off sharply when he stills and you can feel him twitch as he empties into you. Spent, you let yourself fall to the side, earning you a sharp gasp when he leaves your heat. It’s quiet as you come down, both of you trying to catch your breath, until Noah groans, moving forward to pull his underwear back on.

“Come on.” He gestures, pulling you up so he can herd you into your bedroom where you sit on your bed while he digs through your drawers to find you something to sleep in. It feels weirdly intimate, more so than when he was inside you just minutes ago, as he hands you your favorite sleep shirt. He even pulls your blanket back for you while you change, looking unsure as you crawl beneath it.

“Are you gonna stay?”

His eyebrows lift in surprise at your question, mouth falling open, “I --”

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Noah, get in the bed.”

He laughs quietly, but follows your request, sliding in beside you. You’re both silent for a few moments until, “I’m sorry. For,” he sighs, “getting jealous like that. I know we’re not in a relationship or anything, and I know I set that line…” He trails off, letting the sentence hang.

“You know,” you say, turning to look at him, “I think you’re just as much mine as I am yours.”

He pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead before replying, “As if there was ever any doubt…”

~fin~

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #bandom fic #rpf #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian/reader #reader fic #noah sebastian smut #smut prompt fill

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 10 months

Note

Omg thank you so much for ~What the Body Wants~ it was so good!! No! Sorry, that's not it. It was hot, like, so hot!! I loved reading it! Somehow i found it a bit funny too and that always a win😁 there's something about that sex pollen that i find so intertaining, i don't no why. Maybe because they're just so out of control and they act on pure lost, i don't know. Oh.....and the little masturbation session.... i didn't see it coming at all and i thought it was a really good idea!! And Larissa saying "i like you bra" come on Larissa, can you be more obvious?😅❤

Thank you again, i'm so glad you wrote it😊❤

Thank you so so so much!! 🥹 Ready for the part 2… 😏 Thank you all for your patience 💞 I got some inspiration from @syrupy-sweet-honey & @shiftingplates for this one. Hope you Enjoy 😘

What the Body Wants Pt. 2 ~Larissa Weems xFem Teacher!Reader

Link to Part 1

Mommy… Master List

Requests Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, past smut, implied drugging/ambrosiac, implied future smut, shapeshifted d!ck, g!p fucking, d!ck riding, overstimulation, pain kink, praise kink, more implied smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

The second you walked into Larissa’s office, she had you pinned against the door.

“Fuck it…” she growled.

Her lips smashed onto yours. You moaned eagerly into the kiss.

“Please ‘Rissa need more…!” You mewled in desperation.

“Oh Darling, I could go all night…” Larissa breathily moaned.

“I’m gonna hold you to that…” you groaned, wiggling your eyes suggestively at her.

Larissa then grabbed your hand and placed it over her now apparent bulge.

She’s a shapeshifter… Fuck, that’s right…

Your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered from her bulge back up to blonde’s eyes.

“Please…” you breathlessly pleaded.

Larissa then picked you up with ease and carried you into her private quarters. She slammed and locked the door was ease, as you stripped down to nothing with ease, still scolding yourself internally for having lost your knickers. You later yourself out on her bed, propping yourself up with your elbows, as Larissa tantalizingly removed her dress and the rest of her garments, until she was just as nude as you. You gulped.

Fuck was she big…

The blonde then crawled on top of you, spreading your legs with ease. Her eyes were just as desperate as yours. They had a glossy coating of lust, so thick it was now extremely apparent how much the aphrodisiac was affecting the woman. The blonde then slid her hand up to your neck, as she lined up her member with your aching cunt. You gasped and breathily moaned out at her contact with your bare skin. Larissa’s eyes widened and she tightened her grip on your neck, and you only mewled more. And then she sunk into you.

The only thoughts in your mind in that moment were Oh how I’ve needed a pretty girl like this for so long… and—

“OhHhhHHh Fuck…!!” You breathily moaned out, your eyes screwed shit and your hands grasping up at her marvelous form for some sort of grounding.

Your heart raced tripled as the blonde bottomed you out, your eyes rolling back in pleasure and your nails already scratching up Larissa’s back.

“Doing such a good job taking me, Darling…” Larissa groaned, while tightening her hold around your throat.

You only keeled over in pleasure even more at her words and actions, and your walls clenched around the blondes dick deliciously. Pretty soon, Larissa got a good pace of pounding into you.

And yes, she was pounding…

Her breathing was just as labored and ragged as yours, one hand on your throat and the other stabilizing her body and yours on the bed.

“Yes yes yes…!!” You mindlessly chanted, engulfed in the overwhelming pleasure and chasing your near impossible high.

At one point the blonde, hooked your right leg over her shoulder, giving her a new angle to hit, and you damn near saw stars. She was hitting that spongey spot deep inside of you every damn time… and her hold around your throat only tightened.

“Fuck fuck ‘Rissa I—” you mindlessly blabbered.

“I know, I know… me too…!” She groaned.

Your high came first and it hit your like a ducking tidal wave. Larissa was quickly behind you, squirting her thick, hot cum deep inside you. You both went limp from pleasure, engulfed in silence, until Larissa finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, I should have asked if you wanted me too… cum inside you…” she panted, her cheeks flushing lightly with embarrassment.

“Don’t be. It was… so hot…” you breathleslly admitted.

The blonde then collapsed next to you. You winced as the overwhelming heat hit you once more.

“I need more…” you whimpered lightly.

The blonde chuckled at your words.

“All night, right?” She teased.

Your eyes widened and you sat up, only to find that Larissa had moved to position herself propped up against the headboard with her legs splayed open.

“Would you really?” You breathlessly asked.

At this, Larissa patted her thighs, indicating for you to come over. She tilted her head slightly, nodding seductively in response.

“Come sit on my lap, Darling…” the blonde lustfully groaned, “So that you can bounce up and down on my cock while I pull your hair and tell you how good your cunt feels…”

Your walls fluttered in anticipation and your throat went dry at her statement. You nodded breathlessly. You scurried into the blondes lap and straddled her form. Larissa’s hands found home on your hips as they lined your dripping hole up with her dick once more. This would be the time where Larissa would have made a seductive quip or made you beg, but not now. No, you were both too desperate, now.

You sank down on the blondes dick, releasing a strangled moan from your throat. This was paired with a guttural groan from the blonde. Larissa’s head fell back, hitting the headboard with a bam!.

“Ughhhhhhh, that’s it, Darling…” the blonde groaned, as you began to squirm and ride her member.

Larissas hands were eager to help you find a rhythm. And pretty soon, you were bouncing up and down on the tall woman’s dick, spewing incoherent moans and cries. While keeping one hand on your hip, Larissa moved her other hand to interweave in your hair. She tugged tightly, causing you to breathily yelp out in pleasurable pain.

“Again again…” you mewled.

And Larissa happily obliged, tugging on your hair even more. And then her pace of fucking up into you sped up. And her lips found your neck, where the blonde left many a marks. They stopped at the shell of your ear.

“God, my love…” she lustfully groaned, “I can feel your pretty, tight walls fluttering around my cock…”

“Oh God ‘Rissa—!!” You cried out, your eyes fluttering shut in overwhelming pleasure.

“No no no, eyes open, Darling… look at me…” she breathlessly groaned.

You did as you were told, your hodded eyes desperately trying to stay trained on that beautiful face.

“Feels… so…so good…!!!” You cried out with a stutter.

“Fuck… that’s it—!!” The blonde cried out.

“M’mmm gonna cum again…!!” You cried out, tightly grasping at the blondes shoulders.

“Me too, me too Darling…” Larissa groaned.

You both came with leud moans and cries.

Safe to say, neither of you were stopping for the night…

~~~

Part 3 of the morning after…? 😏

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Tag list: @la-muertas-lover @mrslovettn @s-c-rambledegggs @eveymay @justcallmelittleone @larissaoftarthweems @killer-quill @enchantressb @principal-weems09 @scream-queenlover @littlemaggot13 @cute-catx @larissa-weems-chokehold @bxtrflyr @danisogay @philip-15 @ellythefoodielover @yanehv @crunchthatsoup @mommysimpx @wandanatslittlewhore @alder-saan @villanevexo @sunnyanon @levexer @wifeymaterialsstuff @teenybean @shyladyfan @dvrkhcld @lex13cm @thesamesweetie @milfomaniac @darla99 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rainbow-hedgehog @ofherdowlingohara @kimiinou @ghostedpast

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buckymorelikefuckme · 1 month

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I think it would be great! Plus, l have a request. What if, bucky and y/n are getting married (plus y/n is a shy one 🙂) and y/n never drank any alcohol before and on the other hand, bucky, Has already drank alcohol more than he can count. So, they go wine tasting. A week before their wedding and while they're half way doing the wine thing y/n starts to get dizzy and feeling a bit hot. To which she doesn't know that she's starting to get tipsy and bucky notices it. And with that, that means she has a low tolerance in alcohol. And when the wine take its effects, She's all goofy and doing anything without a care in the world even if it's embarrassing herself as if all her shyness is gone

thanks so much for the prompt and for your patience :) i hope you like it!

bucky barnes x reader

words: 427

Perhaps, Bucky thinks, he may have misjudged just how much of a lightweight you'd be.

You'd told him early on in your relationship that you didn't drink, not because of any other reason than you being kind of scared of making a fool of yourself. He'd thought it was cute and never pushed you to drink whenever the two of you went out on dates or to hang out with friends.

Now, you're engaged and a week away from the wedding, and the last thing that needed preparing was the wine. It was Natasha’s idea to go to a wine tasting and you were a little unsure, but then Bucky said it could be a sweet, romantic getaway before the big day. You agreed easily after that.

And besides, how bad could it really be?

“Jesus, fuck, where's the air-con in this place?” you whine, quite loudly, pulling other people’s attention towards where you and Bucky were seated.

He offers everyone an apologetic smile and turns back to you, rubbing a soothing hand along your back. “Baby, we’re outdoors. There isn't any air conditioning.”

You whine again, head flopping onto his shoulder. “But it's so hot, Bucky.”

“I think you're just a little drunk, baby,” he replies with a soft laugh.

You only had a glass and a half before you started complaining about your cheeks feeling hot, and another two glasses for your eyes to go glassy. He's been fascinated, in all honesty. He's never seen someone get drunk so fast.

“Nuh-uh!” you protest, lifting your head to blink heavy lidded eyes at him.

Bucky grins and brushes your hair away from your face. “Okay,” he agrees, placating, “but maybe we should head back to the hotel.”

You blink at him again and then you smile, slow and suggestive, tilting your chin down as you slide a hand high up on his thigh.

“Yeah? Wanna do naughty things to me?”

He catches your hand before it reaches his groin, torn between laughing and groaning. “Not when you're drunk,” he retorts gently.

Inexplicably, your eyes begin to water. “You don't want me?” you ask in a pitiful tone.

“I always want you, baby,” Bucky responds immediately. “You know you drive me crazy, can hardly control myself around you. “

“Oh,” you beam, tears forgotten. You lean into his space and plant a wet, messy kiss on his lips. “Okay. Take me home, big guy.”

When you wake up the next morning, hungover and pouting, you make Bucky swear to keep you away from the wine during the reception.

#bmlfm 1k celebration #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #avengers fic #marvel fic

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l-littlebird-l · 8 months

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Hello, little bird🥰✨ I hope you’re doing well! I wanted to thank you once again for the masterpiece “The Blind Dance”, that was breathtaking!❤️‍🔥

If you don’t mind, I’d love to share with you some of my thoughts, they might be veeery stupid, I’m sorry in advance, that’s just what happens in my feverish brain (Ominis’ been filling my mind completely for several months🙈)

So, personally I’m into powerful and let’s say dominant Ominis hehe. What do you think about it:

Ominis and MC are friends and of course both of them have hidden feelings for each other. One day, MC appears to have a bruise on her neck from some regular fight she had. Ominis can’t see it obviously, but hears some ambiguous remarks about her neck. He gets super jealous and storms to his beloved Undercroft/dormitory/any empty classroom to let off some steam, she notices his state and follows him. And when she asks wtf with you, he bursts out. Like... slams her up against the wall, holds her neck where the bruise is and smth like “who the hell was he?!” (maybe some assumptions that it was Sebastian, cause he knows they spend a lot of time together), basically revealing his dark intimidating side a bit. There can also be insults and some parseltongue spilling of course cause this boy can’t control himself hehe. She’s outraged, trying to push him away, but he realizes how stupid he was, apologizes passionately and then.. no less passionate and possessive sex with parseltongue as well🔥

Gooods I just needed to share it with you, and maybe you will find some ideas inspiring for your incredible talent! And it’s totally fine if you find it an utter rubbish, my brain’s just not working properly when it relates to Ominis😂

Thank you again, we’re all so happy to have you in this fandom!💕

Thank you so much for your patience with this piece! I loved writing it and I had a lot of fun playing around with Ominis’ emotions. 😉 Rest assured, your prompt for this piece was amazing. Thank you so much for being my first request, and I really appreciate all the kind words you give me. The Blind Dance is one of my favorites as well. Ominis just has this way about him. 💕 You definitely piqued some ideas for later stories. Thank you again, and enjoy!

• Jealousy Is a Terrible Thing •

Ominis Gaunt x MC (Smut)

— Requests are Open —

Summary: Ominis’ jealousy flares up when Sebastian returns to the common room well past midnight, carrying your scent. The accumulation of lies and excuses reaches its breaking point, leading to a heated confrontation between you two.

—

Ominis is a master at finding every possible opportunity he can to get closer to you. He's like a magnet, whether that means strategically choosing the seat next to yours in class, skillfully appearing in the same hallways as you, suggesting lunch dates at The Three Broomsticks, or inviting you to join him for study sessions in a cozy corner of the library.

For him, every minute spent by your side fills his day with an unparalleled sense of happiness. It's as if the entire world around him had shifted since you entered his life. He now has something, or rather someone, to look forward to greeting every single day.

But today, however, things took an unusual turn. Ominis had hardly slept, and his mood was decidedly foul. All night, his mind had raced, tormented by the question of why Sebastian had returned to the common room so late last night, bearing the unmistakable trace of your scent. He wrestled with this enigma throughout the night, and what compounded his distress was Sebastian's blatant falsehood. Sebastian was notorious for brushing things off and fabricating the flimsiest of excuses. But that scent, Ominis recognized it all too intimately—it was unquestionably yours. A fire churned within him, a spark of jealously aflame.

(Recap)

As the clocks hands inched past curfew, Sebastian clandestinely slipped into the common room, his movements shrouded in secrecy. His arrival, however, didn’t go unnoticed. Ominis lifted his head from his book as he drew a deep breath, catching a tantalizing trace of your scent emanating from Sebastian's clothing.

Without missing a beat, Ominis confronted Sebastian, his voice laced with an unmistakable sharp edge. "Sebastian, you're out past curfew. What were you up to?"

Sebastian, however, was quick on his feet. He met Ominis' gaze with a feign air of innocence. "Oh, nothing much, just a late-night stroll. Clearing my head, you know."

Ominis slammed his book shut and rose from his seat, his brows knit together with irritation. "Late-night stroll? Clearing your head?" he scoffed, his voice tinted with bitterness. "Don't insult my intelligence, Sebastian. I can smell her on you."

Sebastian tried to maintain an air of nonchalance, beads of sweat formed along his forehead. "You're imagining things, Ominis. Just a bit paranoid, aren't we?"

But Ominis was having none of it. He took several steps forward, his words biting through the air. "I know the scent of her perfume, Sebastian. Don't think you can play the fool with me."

Sebastian's mask of indifference began to crack as Ominis' possessiveness pressed in on him. "Fine," he spat back, the veneer of politeness shattering. "I was with her. So what? She can choose who she spends her time with."

Ominis' patience wore thin, and his anger flared as he leaned forward. "You're playing a dangerous game, Sebastian," he growled, his jealousy unleashing. "She's mine, and you'd do well to remember that."

Sebastian, seemingly unfazed, crossed his arms with a smirk, his voice edged with false nonchalance. "Why do you care so much, Ominis? What I do with her is none of your concern."

Ominis gritted his teeth, his temper burning from within. He wanted to shout, to demand answers, but his pride kept him restrained. “Just answer the question, Sebastian. What were you doing with her?”

Sebastian leaned forward, his tone a venomous whisper. "Maybe you're just not man enough to satisfy her."

Ominis clenched his jaw, his jealousy scraping the forefront, but he couldn't bring himself to reveal the true depth of his feelings.

Sebastian leaned back, a smug grin playing on his face. "You're so possessive, Ominis. It's pathetic. She's not yours to control."

Ominis, his anger boiling over, shot back, "You're just a playboy, Sebastian. You don't understand what it means to truly care about someone."

Their words hung in the air, charged with tension and unresolved emotions. The common rooms quiet atmosphere seemed to amplify, and neither of them was ready to back down.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, as he leaned in closer to Ominis, his voice dripping with venom. "And what would you know about caring for someone? You've never even seen her face, let alone know what it's like to be with someone like her."

Ominis couldn’t take it anymore. The frustration, the jealousy, the pain all swirled inside him like a tempest. He had been holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but Sebastian’s taunts and insinuations were pushing him over the edge. A dark, sinuous whisper echoing within his head.

With furious colors, Ominis lunged at Sebastian, his control slipping away like sand through his fingers. He grabbed Sebastian’s collar, his fingers digging into the fabric as he shoved him forcefully against the wall. His face was contorted with rage as he leaned in closely.

Sebastian was caught off guard by Ominis’ sudden loss of control, despite being pinned against the wall and faced with Ominis' seething anger, he managed to taunt one last time. He grinned, though there was a nervous edge to it.

"Ominis, you're blind in more ways than one," he sneered, digging in with a final jab.

Ominis' grip on Sebastian's collar tightened, his knuckles turning white. He was on the verge of losing control completely, his anger and jealousy driving him to the brink of madness. The whisper inside, growing louder with each passing second.

As Sebastian's taunting words hit Ominis, they seemed to strike a deeper chord. Ominis' anger slowly faded, replaced by a wounded look in his eyes. He slowly released his grip on Sebastian's collar, taking a step back and facing away.

His voice, when he spoke, was filled with a poisonous blend of hurt and resignation. "Fine, Sebastian. Have it your way," he muttered, his anger now overshadowed by a sense of defeat and pain.

Sebastian held his gaze on Ominis’ back for a moment longer before breaking away, storming off to bed with Ominis' words echoing in his ears.

Left alone in the dimly lit common room, Ominis couldn't quell the burning jealousy that gripped his heart. His mind raced with turbulent thoughts, imagining what you and Sebastian were doing together. Each passing minute felt like an eternity as his possessiveness over you gnawed at him, making it impossible for him to find solace in sleep. The scent of another man, bearing traces of you, lingered in the air, a reminder that he couldn't shake off.

As the day dragged on, he found himself in the library, waiting for your arrival. The evening had been earmarked for a study session between the two of you. He positioned himself in a secluded corner of the library, setting the stage for a mental game amidst the book-lined corridors. Aware of the intricate nature of his little mind game, he knew that extracting answers required meticulous finesse. Every move, every word was a potential gambit on your friendship. His mind was a turbulent sea of unanswered questions, each wave threatening to consume his thoughts. The stakes were high, and the risks, even higher. But his determination burned in red. He needed answers, and if Sebastian wasn’t going to give them to him— then you will.

Even moments before your arrival, his mind raced with restless thoughts, the relentless curiosity within him clawing at his very core. A low grumble slipped from his lips, his fingers sinking into the pages of his book, an unsettling image flashing vividly within his thoughts.

"There you are," a familiar voice greeted him with enthusiasm, the sound of your steps weaving around the bookshelves as you plopped your stack of books on the table.

Ominis, drawn by the melody of your sweet voice, lifted his head, and his countenance transformed. His features softened, and a smile, one reserved solely for you, gently curved his lips. The crashing waves of his mind finding ease.

"So you decided to come after all," he teased, deliberately averting his gaze back to the book in his hand as his grip softens.

"Of course I'd show up, I'd never miss our study time together. It’s too precious," you playfully retorted, settling down next to him.

As you opened your books, the sound of the pages turning harmonized with the subtle waft of your scent, enveloping the space around him. That same, familiar scent, lingering in the air, stirring something within.

The library was unusually hushed, the subtle sound of his nails picking at the corners of parchment, bending them with a nervous energy. Your gaze instinctively followed the sound, an elegant dance of curiosity shifting between his fidgeting fingers and his pensive expression.

You sat there, quietly studying him for a few moments, pondering on what’s occupying his thoughts. Something about him seemed amiss, though you couldn't quite pinpoint it.

You leaned into him, your body brushing against his as your lips drew close to his ear, your voice a soft whisper. "You're not typically one to fidget with your hands. Is something on your mind, Ominis?"

Your closeness seemed to have a calculated impact, causing his demeanor to subtly shift. The sound of the parchment ceased as he turned his focus toward you, his face adorned with a serene mask of calmness. "Hmm? Oh, no. Nothings on my mind."

Your concern etched lines of worry onto your brow, still convinced that something weighed heavily on his mind, but he wasn’t budging.

"Ominis..." you hummed, your hand gently finding its place against his thigh, your voice carrying a soothing, reassuring tone. "You know you can talk to me."

In a fleeting moment, all his defenses crumbled. A lump formed in his throat, your sweet, captivating scent enveloping him like a warm embrace. The gentle brush of your hand against his thigh ignited an indescribable sensation deep within him. In that moment, he wished for time to stand still, for this instant to stretch into eternity. Just you and him, a world apart from everyone else—a world far from Sebastian. It all faded into obscurity. It was as if only the two of you existed in that space.

You couldn't help but notice how your presence seemed to have a calming effect on him. Your fingers traced a gentle, reassuring path up and down his thigh, and a soft, affectionate grin danced at the corners of your lips as you observed him intently. He looks so sweet…

In this sanctuary, Ominis felt a newfound comfort, an urge to confide in you, to lay bare everything that had tormented him, and perhaps even to express the emotions he'd kept concealed for so long. He yearned to spill it all out, to finally lay his heart on the table.

Just as he was about to speak, a subtle squeeze from your hand against his thigh brought him back to reality. His lashes faltered, and with a soft, deliberate hold, his hand grazed against yours, seemingly hesitant to speak.

His lips were parted, and for a brief moment, he seemed as if he was on the brink of saying something, but his lips drew a line. Instead, he took in a deep breath, casually flipping to the next page in his book with a flick of his wand.

"You needn’t worry about me, I'm fine," Ominis insisted, his words carefully neutral. "I just couldn’t find sleep."

You sighed, not entirely convinced by his statement, but willing to go with it. "How come?" You inquired gently, your fingers naturally gravitating toward the comforting warmth of his inner thigh.

His breath hitched for a mere second, the feeling of your hand tantalizingly close clouded his mind with your sweet, intoxicating presence.

"Sleep often seems to evade me more times than I care to count. So I opted for some light reading in the common room last night," he began, his voice steady. A momentary pause followed as he carefully considered his next words. He taps his nail against the parchment with an unsettledness. “Just as I was wrapping up on my reading, a rather… perplexing encounter held me.”

His eyes lined up with keen perception as he sensed your hand twitch in response to his words, a restrained, sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He knew he had you hooked.

"Oh? And… who might’ve that been?" Your words faltered, your heart beginning to race as the realization set in, that you had unwittingly walked into his cunning little trap.

"Sebastian," he stated firmly, the pretense of an unruffled countenance still in place as he smoothly turned to the next page in his book.

"S— Sebastian, huh?" You gradually withdrew your hand from his thigh, fingers curling around the contours of your book as you anxiously flipped through several pages.

"Any thoughts on why he might have been up after curfew?" He nonchalantly twirled his wand between his fingers, deliberately taking his time as he keenly detects your composure slowly unraveling beside him.

"No— not at all. Why would I have any insight?” You brought your hand to your lips, your teeth nibbling nervously at your nails as your thoughts begin to race.

"Really, now?" He leaned back, drawing in a deep breath as he meticulously assessed the situation. "I had thought you two were rather… close. Mayhaps I judged wrong," he mused, his finger idly tracing the edges of his book, waiting for your next answer.

You cleared your throat, collecting your hair in your hands as you lifted it up off your neck and sweeping it aside to cool off.

“We should get back to studying, Ominis.” You mumbled quietly, adverting your attention back to your books.

A pit formed within his midriff, an uneasy sensation coursing through him as he discerned that you had just lied to him and casually brushed aside his inquiry. Lost in his thoughts, something had sparked his attention, a faint, distant sound emanating several tables away. His ears perked as he found himself inexplicably drawn into the poison of hushed whispers and muted laughter.

"Did you see that mark on her neck?"

"Gods, what is it?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's a hickey!"

"Merlin's Beard... who do you think it was?"

"I bet you 5 Galleons it was Sebastian Sallow."

"What— no way."

"You think she's been snogging Sallow?"

"By the looks of it, she's been doing more than just snogging." The subdued group of students snickered amongst themselves.

"And…. guess what I saw last night… I saw the two of them leaving the castle after curfew."

"What, really..? That's foul... and she has the audacity to put her hands all over Gaunt— are you going to report it to the Headmaster?"

“Not yet, I’m waiting for the perfect moment.”

“You sneaky little minx.”

“She deserves it. I can’t wait to see her crumble.”

"She should be ashamed of herself...”

"Isn't one enough? Leave the rest of them for us."

“She’s such a slut.”

A flush of crimson spread across Ominis' face as his anger surged like a rising tide within. His fists clenched together in a white-knuckled grip, his imagination running wild with scenarios from last night, each one more maddening than the last. Thoughts became an impenetrable fog, clouding his usually sharp mind. His jaw clenched as he slammed his book shut, the resounding thud echoing throughout the library. He stormed out, leaving behind a wake of turbulent emotions.

Ominis could hear his heart ringing in his ears. The whole world around him fading into a distant blur as he pushed himself through the crowded halls. His nails dig into the handle of his wand as anger, frustration, and jealousy envelopes him whole. The thought of you doing something so vile with his best friend tinged his heart. He felt as if the air was sucked right out of his lungs, his own emotions strangling him.

You sat there, bewildered by his sudden outburst. Trying to make sense of what just happened, you close your books in a hurry, leaving them behind as you quickly followed suit. Your eyes glued to the back of his pristine button-up as you chased after him, deftly slipping through the turbulent sea of students and nearly stumbling over an outstretched foot.

"Om— Ominis, wait…" your voice caught as you hastily found your footing, resolutely following his swift path into an unassuming classroom, leaving behind a clear path of confused faces.

As you enter the classroom, your eyes swept across the empty space, finding no trace of Ominis. You take a hesitant step back, perplexed. Suddenly, the wooden doors behind you click shut. You quickly pivot around to find Ominis standing there, blocking the only exit out.

“Ominis…” you muttered, standing there frozen and confused as an uneasiness settled within your midriff.

His eyes almost gleamed with a shade of green, as if a dormant darkness within him had awakened. A pure-blood Gaunt, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, the snake with no eyes, now revealed itself. His once-hidden frustrations surged to the surface, directed towards you. His body burned with resentment, hands trembling at his sides.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice low and tinged with a threatening edge, leaving no room for evasion or lies. "What were you doing with Sebastian last night?"

A sudden chill runs down your spine, as if he could actually see into your soul. You stagger back, your heart racing in response to his probing question.

"What do you mean..?" you stammered, desperately searching your mind for any little thing to grab at.

Your heart pounded in your chest, caught between the fear of angering him and the guilt of keeping the truth from him. You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of Ominis’ words pressing down on you, but you couldn't bring yourself to admit it, not yet. The room seemed to close in and crackle with tension, clashing with your desire to protect the truth.

"I— I was…" your words faltered as Ominis took an intimidating step forward. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, struggling to find the right words. Your tongue felt heavy, surrendering yourself to complete silence.

Suddenly, he lunges forward, his fingers wrapping around your jaw, pivoting you around, and slamming you against the closed doors. His breath brushes against your lips as he leans in, his eyes effortlessly locked onto yours.

You winced, your eyes squeezing tight from the sudden force, his hold around your jaw softening as his fingers grazed down your neck.

"You were?" He asked, his voice baring a darkness you hadn’t seen before.

"I... I was just... studying," you muttered, attempting to maintain the facade, but the heat of his body pressed against yours and his possessive hold shattered your composure.

Your mind raced, torn between your desire to protect Sebastian and the overwhelming presence of Ominis. His demeanor was suffocating, hard to resist the urge to spill the truth, but you stubbornly clung to your feeble lie.

Every word you spoke, every lie you told, was like fuel to the fire. His fingers encircled around your throat, tightening with warning. "Tell me then, what's this?" he inquired, the pads of his fingers pressing into the tender, bruised skin below your jaw.

You yelped, your hand reaching for his wrist in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the pressure. He took your hand in his, pinning it against the wooden doors. With a low, frustrated growl, he eased his grip from around your throat, his fingers still remaining over the mark.

“Speak,” he said, as if you were some pet of his to command.

You gasped, finally able to breathe, your head spinning. "Ominis, what's happened to you?" you whispered, your voice colored with confusion.

He grew tired of waiting for an answer. His mind filling in all the details on its own. He pushes your jaw to the side with his thumb as he leans into the crook of your neck, his breath scraping against your skin. His soft lips brushed across your bruise, that same dark whisper filling his head with poisoned words.

“You like this?” He growled, his lips barely transgressing against your skin.

Your voice caught in your throat as Ominis' grip tightened, preventing you from speaking.

"Have something to say, do you?" Ominis’ voice dripped with irritation at your feeble attempt to speak.

An agonizing silence enveloped the room as you nervously shook your head in response.

"I didn’t think so." He sinks his teeth into your bruise, eliciting a pained wince from your lips. The warm caress of his tongue against your skin, paired with his piercing teeth digging into your neck sent an indescribable sensation pooling between your thighs. His hand snaked from your throat and down your waistline, gripping into your hip. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his knee stopped you from squeezing your thighs together.

He had you within his grasp, a pretty little thing trembling against the doors. In this moment, you were unequivocally his, a possession to be claimed. The air felt thick and heavy. He relished in the power he held over you, knowing he could do anything to you. It was crystal clear: You were his to mark, not Sebastian’s, his. And he intended to make that known.

"You like being a little slut for me?" He drags his lips agonizingly slow against your skin, catching your breath.

Despite the fear and the turbulent emotions, an undeniable surge of desire coursed through you. Ominis' dominance had awakened a primal longing within you, and your response was unmistakable. Your breath hitched, and your body caved into your desire, your hips arching slightly against his knee.

Ominis was acutely aware of your response. A sly smirk curled his lips as he felt the subtle shift in your body, the way you arched against his knee, the way your arm fell limp within his grasp, and the subtle wavering within your breath. It was evident of the power he held over you.

Ominis couldn’t help but taunt you further, his voice dripping with possessiveness and a hint of cruelty. “You feel that?” he whispered, pressing his knee against your damp knickers.

Overcome by lust, you found yourself writhing in place, unable to contain the fiery yearning that coursed through your veins. Your heart hammered within your chest, a relentless rhythm of anticipation and longing, each beat echoing the insatiable need for more. Every inch of your skin felt like it was burning, burning for his touch.

Ominis, consumed by his desire, pushed your thighs apart with a dominating force, making it clear who was in control. He pressed his hips into you, his hunger evident in the way he held you against the doors. There was no denying the raw and burning need he felt for you in that moment.

“You like being fucked so hard there’s bruises all over your pretty little skin?” He growled through gritted teeth, his grip around your wrist constricting. The anger in his voice sent tremors through your body, leaving you almost afraid to utter a word. A barely audible gasp escaped your trembling lips.

He couldn't fathom how you could lose your self-control so easily under such circumstances. His mind seethed with jealousy and anger. Were you always this easy to rile up? Is this what you and Sebastian do when he’s not around? Is that what you want from him? Unable to contain his rage any longer, he lashed out, slamming his hands against the wooden doors, staggering backwards.

"Is this what you want? Isn't Sebastian enough for you? You think you can go around putting your pretty little hands on guys and expect us to fuck you? You're— you’re such a..." He growled, his voice a mixture of anger and hurt.

Ominis leaned back against an empty desk, running his fingers over his jaw, a look of shame crossing his face. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he attempted to collect himself, but the damage was done. He knew he had lost control and shattered any chance of friendship that remained between the two of you. With a heavy sigh, he buried his face in his trembling hand, overwhelmed by the strangling feeling he has in his heart.

You were left speechless, your heart aching at his distress. With cautious steps, you moved towards him, your hand finding purchase against his shoulder as your thumb brushed with a soothing comfort.

"Ominis…" you whispered softly, your voice wavering with concern and immense sadness. "Please, just talk to me… What's going on with you? Why did you say such hurtful things?"

You settled down next to him, your hand gently gliding down his back. "This… this isn't like you, Ominis..." You pressed your forehead against his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his waist, embracing him from behind.

The softness within your voice melted away all his defenses. Unable to contain his turmoil any longer, he began to unravel, pouring out the torment that had consumed him. His voice quivered. It sounded like he was on the brink crying. Your embrace around him tightened, unable to bear the sound of his shuddering voice.

"Please…" your voice trembled as you pleaded in him, the agonizing prick of tears welling within your eyes.

Ominis drew in a deep breath, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. Slowly, he lifted his head from his hand, his gaze, blankly fixed upon the floor.

"It was him, wasn't it?" His voice held a note of anguish, as if he didn’t want the truth at all.

"What was him?" You asked gently, lifting your head from his shoulder and resting your chin against its curve.

He took a few moments, taking in deep, shuddering breaths as he tried to come to terms with it himself. “That bruise along your neck… It was Sebastian.”

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows, your fingers instinctively brushing across the mark that adorned itself just below your jaw. "This?" Confusion filled your voice as your mind raced with questions. “No— Sebastian never hurt me, why would you think that?”

He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees, his hands clenching in visible disarray. "Not hurt you…" he uttered with an evident struggle in his voice. His head turns toward you as you break from the one-sided embrace. Your eyes traced along his pained face, tears glossing over. You tenderly cupped his cheek, urging him to face you.

“Ominis…” you murmured softly. “What then?”

He slowly picked his arm up, his fingers gliding over your caress with gentleness, nuzzling his cheek into your hand. This warmth was what he so desperately needed. His gaze lowered with somberness, his other hand reaching out to hold yours within your lap.

He shifted towards you, his hand falling from his cheek, finding purchase against your thigh. He appeared hesitant, at a loss for words— his mind wrangling with itself to even speak.

"That mark," he started, his head still lowered. "It was from making love, wasn't it?"

You sat there, blinking for a moment, caught off guard by his accusation. Speechless, you almost let out a baffled laugh but quickly restrained it. "Making love?" you retorted, your hand lowering from his cheek as you wrapped your fingers around his nape, drawing him in closer.

You pressed your forehead against his, gazing into his soft ocean eyes. "Listen to me, Ominis… There’s nothing going on between me and Sebastian,” you hushed, your voice filled with sincerity.

He pulls away with furrowed brows, disbelief etched across his face. You clasped your hands around his, pulling him back in. "Ominis, please… This bruise here, it was from an encounter with goblins. Sebastian and I… we snuck out of the castle last night. We wanted to have a little fun, go for a midnight adventure,” you paused briefly, a heavy sigh filling the air. “But I… I got into a little trouble. I messed up my footing and a goblin attacked me. I was exhausted. Sebastian had to carry me back to the castle… I’m so sorry, Ominis. I should’ve been honest with you… I had no idea how much this pained you."

He felt ashamed, he felt hopeless, and he felt so, so indescribably ignorant. The weight of his emotions hung heavy within the air.

“I promise you, there’s no other man out there that has my heart,” you continued softly, your words piquing his interest. Ominis slowly lifted his chin as his gaze fell upon you.

Your lips curled into a sweet smile, brushing your thumb in soothing circles over his hands. “No one else, but you.”

His lashes faltered, and that very pit within his stomach had completely vanished. He felt all the heaviness within him lifted, the venomous whispers within his head— gone, replaced by a sense of clarity and peace."No one else?" He asked softly, his voice broken.

“Ominis, I love you… I love you so much that it pains me. It pains me to see you like this. I fell in love with that very sweetness you hold so deep within your heart. You’re someone special to me…” you wavered, the weight of your confession hanging in the air, your heart pounding within your chest as the gravity of your words settled between you both like a weightless plume.

He gently withdraws his hand from your grasp, his fingers tenderly tracing along your jaw as he clasped his hand just below your ear. His soft touch sent a shiver down your spine as he tilts your head back, his thumb brushing against your cheek, pressing his longing lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut, savoring the sweet taste of his affection, your lips molding together in a tender, passionate kiss. In that moment, the world around you faded into insignificance. Everything that had just transpired, gone. All that remains now is the unyielding confession of love. The kiss lingered until he finally pulled away, his lips hovering just an inch from yours.

His warm breath caressed your lower lip as he spoke in an unwavering, gentle, and remorseful tone. "I've loved you from the moment I met you, more deeply than I could ever express. I've tried to hide it, to bury it, but it's always been there… burning within me. You mean more to me than words can convey, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Ominis’ voice quivered with emotion, "I love you with everything I am, and I always will, no matter what. I love you, all that you are, my dear little bird. I’m so… so so—"

You cut him off before he sank back into his darkness, your lips locking together in a fervent embrace. His brows furrowed as his lips followed suit, firmly. The kiss deepened, a passionate, unending surge of emotion that left you both breathless. In that moment, it felt like everything had finally fallen into place, and your hearts were bound together as one.

You wanted to reassure him, to make him understand that he had nothing to worry about. Your heart belonged to him and him alone. You hooked your leg over Ominis’ hip, gently lowering yourself into his lap. He wrapped his hand around your waist with a tender embrace.

With a shared urgency, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth, eliciting soft sigh past his lips. In the midst of your heated kisses, soft whispers of, “I love you,” flowed freely between you both. It was as if those three words had become a cherished refrain, a reminder of your unwavering love for each other, and neither of you could get enough of it.

Your kisses became a sweet storm. Peppering his lips as your hands cradled his jaw, your hips moving in a rhythm of their own, swaying with the desire that coursed through your veins.

A burning sensation snapped you back to reality, a tantalizing stiffness pressing against your knickers, awakening you from the flames. You were acutely aware of the desire that had burned between you.

Unable to resist, you both tumbled against the desk, your lips still locked in a fiery embrace. The kisses turned heated, sloppy, and wet as you explored eachothers cavity with unbridled hunger. His grip around your hip tightened, pressing you firmly against his arousal, a quiet moan of pleasure escaped your lips. Desire pooled between your thighs, wetting his trousers from the friction.

With a final, lingering kiss, you gradually poised yourself up, straddling him with your hands pressed against his chest. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, but something about his presence made you feel safe and unashamed. The embarrassment you anticipated seemed to melt away in his soft, gentle touch.

A sweet, contented smile graced your lips as you began to roll your hips, a gentle grind that pressed your soaked knickers against his clothed arousal, eliciting a soft, quiet hum from Ominis’ lips.

He tilted his head back with a warm moan, the sharp contour of his jaw capturing your attention. You reached for his hands, delicately intertwining your fingers with his, guiding his touch as you circled your hips. A quiet sigh of pleasure escaped your lips, filling the thick air around you.

Ominis’ lips parted, eliciting an unrestrained moan as his cock twitches beneath you. He lost full control over his hips, incapable to stop them from moving in rhythm with yours. This was everything he had ever yearned for— your sweet hands in his, the soft, quiet moans that slipped past your lips, the constant whispers of affirmation. Yet, amidst this symphony of pleasure, there was one thing he longed to hear… the sweet sound of you moaning his name.

Feeling your hands withdraw from their loving embrace and hearing the subtle rustling of fabric above him, Ominis reached out, gently clasping your hands in his once again.

"Allow me," he whispered in a tender tone, his desire to adore you evident in his gentle pale eyes.

Your hands slowly dropped as he began to unbutton your blouse with a tantalizing slowness, savoring every moment so he could etch this memory into eternity. His fingers brushed across your shoulders, unable to resist the urge to whisper with admiration, "So soft..." He slid your blouse over your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your elbows. Your fingers curled under the rim of his trousers, eagerly reciprocating the desire.

Ominis, however, wasn't met with the expected sensation of a bra strap along your shoulders. Instead, he found himself intrigued, his fingers tracing down your collarbone until they reached the supple, sensitive flesh at the curve of your breast. His feather-light touch sent a cascade of goosebumps dancing across your skin, eliciting a subtle sigh of approval from your parted lips. His large hands then enveloped your breast, gently squeezing and kneading without hesitation.

Your eyes locked onto his almost devious grin. You unhooked your fingers from under his trousers and smoothly shimmied the rest of your blouse off, your gaze then moving toward his buttoned shirt, relinquishing it’s hold. You pushed open the flaps of his shirt, your eyes feasting on the sight of his well-formed figure. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as your fingers trailed down his chest, tracing the dots that adorned his pale flesh in a playful zigzag pattern until they reached his hip. He was truly a vision of beauty, and in this moment, you couldn't fathom how he could doubt your desire for him over anyone else, even Sebastian.

"Ominis… I want you," you whispered, the words dripping with desire.

"Then take me," he dared, his expression sweet and inviting, in stark contrast to everything below.

Your cheeks blazed with a deep, rosy hue as you bit into your cheek, his words leaving you breathless with desire. With a sultry grace, you lifted yourself onto your knees, your hands working deftly to tug down his trousers and briefs just enough to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. It was much larger than you had imagined when you were grinding against him, and the sight left you speechless. Even his length was adorned with a scattering of freckles.

His hands, warm and tender, snaked up your thighs, just under your skirt, cradling them with a gentle hold. He showed incredible patience, letting you take your time and go at your own pace. You reached below you, your fingers curling around the soaked fabric that clung to your heated flesh. Pulling them aside, you wrapped your fingers around his base, slowly lowering yourself onto him.

The pink crown of his arousal glistened with pre-cum, slipping between your slick folds as you guided him into your eager core. His length squeezed into you inch by inch, eliciting a joined shudder. Ominis tightened his grip around your thighs as he felt your cunt slowly enveloping his length, drawing him deeper inside you. A hushed wince escaped your lips as he pushed you firmly against his hips.

A low, guttural curse slipped from Ominis’ tongue, the agonizing sensation of your tight cunt gripping around his cock with raw hunger.

With slow, deliberate movements, you took control, lifting your hips and sensually lowering yourself onto him, savoring every inch of his throbbing desire as it filled you completely. Finding a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Ominis' hands ventured further under your skirt, his fingers clasping possessively around your hips, pressing deeply into your skin as you surrendered yourself to the veil of desire.

The sensation of his pulsating cock reaching deep within you, hitting the depths of your cunt and clenching around his cock in a strangling hold. It was everything he had ever fantasized about. The tantalizing stride and rolls of your hips, the softness and warmth of your skin touching his. The labored breaths and sweet moans he elicited out of you, it felt so fucking good.

The way you rolled your hips and took his cock like it was meant for you. How your body trembled every time he hit that sensitive spot. The desperate moans escaping your lips as he started to force your movements quicker by your hips. It drove him mad, mad for you. He craved more, wanting to hear those pretty little lips of yours gasp and scream his name, and he knew exactly how to make that happen.

With a firm grip around your hips, he easily maneuvered, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself over you. With one hand supporting his weight, his other guided the underside of your thigh until it was pressed against your side.

"Ominis, wai—"

He silenced your protests with a deep, penetrating thrust that sent a loud moan spilling from your lips. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as a sly grin curled at the corners of his lips. Your slick cunt tightened around his cock as he continued with long, measured strides in and out of your slick heat, drawing a soft yelp from the depths of your throat. Your hand clutched around his forearm, anchoring yourself as he quickened his pace.

"Ah, fuck..." you winced, furrowing your brows in pleasure as he drove into you relentlessly.

A deep, guttural groan reverberated within his throat as he reveled in the tightness of your cunt. He shifted his hand from your thigh to support his weight against the desk, looming over you with a demeanor that made you feel small and trapped beneath his towering figure.

He may be blind, but Ominis was attuned to your every desire, intimately aware of what turned you on. A sly grin danced along his lips as he continued his relentless thrusts, each one hitting that sweet spot that drove you mad.

He swooped down, burying his face into the crook of your neck as his labored breaths crashed against your skin. The sweet sound of your whimpers riled something familiar within him. "You like that?" he growled against your neck.

You gasped, your nails digging into his forearm as your body shuddered from his words. A subtle sneer lathered your tender neck with hungry kisses and soft bites.

His lips trailed sensuously along your neck, planting soft, teasing kisses against your earlobe. “I know you like this,” he grunted, his hips driving into you with hard, measured thrusts that left you gasping with desperate approval. The needy whines that escaped your lips were all the affirmation he needed. His tongue traced the contours of your ear, soft nips and low growls that sent shivers down your spine.

"Oh fuck, Ominis..." you pleaded, gasping for air as he relentlessly pounded into you.

“You’re so tight…” he snarled, his voice thick with desire, peppering your ear and neck with a trail of hungry kisses and licks. His pace slowed into long, tantalizing strides, all the while bearing knowing smile.

"Ominis, please..." you whimpered softly, your nails digging further into his skin.

"Please, what?" His voice shuddered, sinking his teeth into your neck as he maintained his steady pace.

"Oh, fuck… please—"

He hummed against your skin, seemingly oblivious to your intent, relishing in the sweet desperation of your trembling voice.

"Please… fuck me harder," you exasperated, writhing beneath him.

He gripped your hip in place, preventing your movements as he continued with his slow, ruthless strides.

"What’s my name," he demanded, his voice a heated whisper against your ear.

You panted heavily, your thighs trembling at his hips, your voice a sultry plea, “Fuck me harder, Ominis…” Before you could finish the rest of his name, he slammed his hips into you with a hungry growl against your ear. You bucked your hips with an arch of your back, eliciting a yelp that echoed within the halls of the castle.

“Good girl,” he whispered, sending an intoxicating blaze of fire coursing through your body. With every forceful thrust, a torrent of pleasure surged within you, an unrelenting tempest that threatened to consume your very being. A knot of insatiable desire coiled deep within your midriff, pulling tighter with each invasion of his hips.

Sweat glistened across your entwined bodies, his movements a fevered dance of untamed lust and longing. Your nails etched fiery trails along Ominis’ back, branding him with your passion. The pain that etched along his back soon became pleasure as he lost full control of himself. The classroom echoed with a crescendo of fervent gasps and uninhibited moans.

As he surrendered to his primal desires, his voice became a sultry serenade, a soft trail of parseltongue with unbridled lust slipping from his lips like a seductive spell. He teetered on the precipice of release, the moment of climax drawing tantalizingly near with each scorching thrust.

His head hangs low, driven by an insatiable need as he plunges deep into you, his hips etching a delicious soreness into your supple flesh. Your thighs trembled against his hips, helpless to resist the throbbing sensation as he fills your needy little cunt to the brim, spewing threads of his warm, sticky desire that claimed you as his.

Exasperated curses punctuated the air, escaping your lips as your body contracts beneath his rigid thrusts. Your back arches with a deep curve, your hips locked in a drunken lust as he fills you to the rim. Ominis hovers above you, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his thoughts lost in the intoxicating haze of euphoria.

A heated warmth seeps from your defiled cunt, dribbling sensuously against the smooth wooden desk beneath you. Ominis, with a heavy and contented sigh, begins to slowly withdraw, his cock sliding out with a wet, suctioning noise that lingers in the air.

You gaze at him through half-lidded lashes, your face carrying the unmistakable weight of exhaustion, each breath labored with fire. Ominis' well-satisfied cock twitches, strings of cum dripping from his tip.

With an almost inconceivable smirk, Ominis runs his fingers through his tousled hair, his freckled cheeks flushed from exertion. “You’re mine, you know that?” He said softly, delicate beads of sweat tracing along the contours of his midriff, a captivating sight only for you to see.

You nodded obediently, with a soft, weary sigh, “I’m yours.”

He left you utterly spent, your body feeling heavy against the wooden desk. Your legs remained parted, trembling from the aftermath, as you struggled to catch your breath, your mind remained shrouded in a tantalizing fog of lingering lust.

“Ominis…” your voice wavered, still carrying the heat of the fervent moment.

A mischievous chuckle escaped his lips as he gazed at you with desire-fueled hunger. “Round two?” His suggestion hung in the air, a tempting invitation to plunge back into the depths of pleasure once more.

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