#∟ ° ✰ YOU SOUND SO SWEET WHEN YOU LIE TO ME — THREADS !

[targaryen-dynasty]

NOCTURNAL WORSHIP.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dub/non-con, somnophilia, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), p in v, fingering, possessive and dark (or rather canon) Daemon

WORDS: 1.2 K

NOTES: Something older I had posted with another blog.

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A deep slumber has overtaken you after a day full of lessons in the tongue of your ancestors, and an hours long flight on the back of your precious mount. Deep enough that not even the creaking door leading to one of the secret passageways of Maegor‘s Holdfast is able to get you to stir awake. 

Not quite so stealthy as one might know him, the man they dub the Rogue Prince steps into your chambers, his heart beating fast with the blood pumping straight down to his cock upon spotting you laying on your side, sound asleep despite his intrusion. 

It’s almost ridiculous how hard his cock gets the closer he stalks towards your canopy bed, straining uncomfortably against the laces in the front of his breeches. “Ñuha dōna lēkianna,“ he drawls with a strain to his voice, the predatory gaze of his lilac eyes taking in your sleeping frame. My sweet niece. 

A devilish smirk that’s usually only reserved to the people that dare to challenge him is draped across his lips, growing as he slowly peels the Quartheen silk sheets off your body. Only a fool would miss the fact that you’re not wearing any undergarments beneath the rather flimsy, creamish nightgown you wear, clearly indicating that you have listened to your uncle prior to your departure to your quarters. 

‘Expect me at the Hour of the Owl, sweet girl,’ he had said to you as your lesson ended. ‘And I shall teach you what is expected of you on your wedding night.’ And the sheepish nod and the blush on your cheeks let him know you truly endorsed it. 

Daemon sits down on the bed next to you and brushes his fingers over your skin, starting at your knee to push the nightgown up and reveal your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for the long-awaited. His deft fingers drag through your folds, circling your sensitive pearl.

A quiet sound slips past your slightly parted lips, resembling something between a moan and a whimper, and in your sleepy state he finds you snuggling against him to inhale his comforting scent, your hand resting on his stomach and your face buried in his side.

His fingers toy with your pearl briefly before he gently nudges you over to lie on your back, parting your legs to grant him better access to what lies between them. Ghosting the tips of his fingers along your navel, he trails them down again to ease them inside your cunt, pushing in and out to prepare your maiden core for him.  

The thread of restraint he’s held before grows thinner and thinner with your walls starting to clench steadily around his digits, practically sucking them in and begging for more. And when he feels your small hand fisting his tunic, pulling him closer with your hips rutting meekly against his hand? That’s the moment it snaps.

Withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, he brings them up to his lips, sucking them clean of your essence. Any rational thought is quit with the taste of your arousal spreading over his tongue, making him long for more. 

He climbs between your legs, sitting back on his haunches as he undoes his breeches and frees his cock from its confines. There’s not a second wasted by him,  burying himself inside of you with such urgency in one, swift thrust. 

All efforts not to wake you up are fruitless as he increases the pace of his thrusts, snapping his hips in and out of you over and over again, not able to hold back any longer. 

The hazy glimmer in your eyes as you blink up at him indicates that you have a hard time processing what is happening, although your body perfectly knows with quiet moans and whimpers toppling past your parted lips. 

“K… Kepus?” you mumble, having trouble speaking with the burning of your cunt struggling to accommodate his size clouding your thoughts. You blink once, twice, to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light the moon casts through your chambers windows.  

Daemon doesn’t stop his ministrations, if anything, your dazed reaction only manages to spur him on, feeding the fire that courses through his veins. He dips down, pressing his chest flush to yours and putting his weight onto you, caging you in between his arms with no way to escape. 

Your uncle rests his forehead against yours, stopping his movements briefly. “I told you I would come, didn't I?” 

Biting your bottom lip, you momentarily close your eyes at the proximity. Opening them again, you nod your head and stare up at him with a wide, innocent gaze. “Y… Yes.”

“And you want to learn from me, do you not?” It isn’t a question, more a coercion for you to give him what he wants. “About the… wifely duties you must perform for your future husband.” 

You nod again, speaking in feigned confidence, “yes.”

His words are very much that of truth. More than once have you thought about him in ways that are not proper for the youngest daughter of the King, especially after your older sister has told you about the little foray she and your uncle went on that ended in one of the brothels of the city.

Daemon starts to grind his hips against yours, causing the pressure inside of you to become more and more notable — until your peak catches you in an ambush. 

Your body acts on its own as you arch your back against his sturdy frame, parting your legs just a bit more to willingly rut your hips in rhythm with his, chasing the pleasure. 

Not one coherent thought runs through your head as your body works itself through the several emotions and trembles that soar through you, suddenly not so tired anymore. 

You‘re not so sure what to expect as he proclaims his desire to spill inside of you, yet you eagerly accept, damned be the repercussions, and bite through the overstimulation to chase the addictive feeling of his throbbing cock. 

Tipping his head back, your uncle releases a groan so raspy the bump in his throat twitches, the sight causing a renewed wave of your arousal to drip down his shaft, forming a creamy ring around the base. 

Only once the thrusting of his hips ceases, you‘re able to feel the flimsy pulsating of his cock, spending itself inside of you. 

“That’s it–” His words catch in his throat as his head topples forwards. 

Meeting your gaze, he gets so lost in the blissed out expression on your face that he knows there is no going back now — not when he just got a taste of you, his darling niece. 

He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls out, the uncomfortable feeling of loss causing you both to grimace. Climbing off the bed to readjust his trousers, he can‘t seem to take his eyes off of you. 

“I expect you, tomorrow night, to come to my chambers,” he states bluntly and nonchalantly, walking towards the door he came through before. “Your husband will not be gentle on the first night of your marriage, lēkianna, and I think it is only fair that I teach you a few more things. So when the time comes, you‘re well prepared.”

With these words, he closes the secret door behind him, leaving you all by yourself. Where you have been in a very deep slumber before, you struggle to fall back asleep again, mind plagued by what tomorrow will bring for you. 

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Hope you're doing okay, and take it easy if you haven't been!

For the flirty prompts starters list, could you maybe do: "Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you." with Vil? I think it'd be a good one

Thanks!

(I hope you have fun writing this if you do! No biggie if you don't or if someone else already asked!)

GIGGLING SO MUCH

summary: "stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you" type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, Vil experiencing cuteness aggression.jpg, not proofread a part of this event

Vil considers himself to be an eloquent man.

After all, how one speaks is just as important as how one carries themselves, and every last inch of him, from his looks to his body language to his words, have been refined to perfection. Each a golden thread in the dazzling tapestry that is Vil Schoenheit.

And yet, despite that, he still can't seem to find a way to describe you.

Frustrating is not quite right. Epel is frustrating. Those first years you insist on spending your precious time with are frustrating. But you...

You are not annoying, nor are you incompetent. His usual vocabulary for the students of NRC is useless when it comes to you.

...And different is too vague.

Vil just seems to forget what to do with his hands when you're around.

You look so soft in the golden afternoon light of the lounge, which is distracting enough as it is. Now you're giggling in the way you do, and he can't concentrate, and... what was he doing, again?

"Stop that," he says, plainly, not looking up from the textbook he'd been reading. Or trying to, anyway. He'd lost his place some time ago.

You make this... sound, this confused little hum, and he pictures you tilting your head to the side like a puppy. Sevens, you're just so...

He huffs. "I said, stop,"

"Stop what?"

Clueless little thing. Vil sighs, finding it within himself to make eye contact. He'd given up on finishing this assignment early, anyway.

"You know what,"

You stare back, unblinking. Are you really so oblivious? No, there's no way you aren't doing this on purpose, whatever it is, just to get on his nerves. Did those friends of yours put you up to this?

He should scold you. He invited you to study with him, a luxury which many would pay millions for, and here you are, being...

Ugh. He still can't think of the right word.

"Am I being too loud?" you ask, a confused lilt in your voice.

Sevens, you are so dense, he wants to just grab you and squeeze you like a stress ball until a thought comes out of that empty head.

The thought of that is no help. If anything, it just bothers him more.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Are you really not doing this on purpose? "No. You're distracting me,"

"Oh... sorry,"

...In such a soft, meek little tone, like you really feel bad about it, looking up at him with those eyes of yours... ugh. He wants to bite you, squeeze you in his arms until this overwhelming, restless feeling passes. You're so...

"It's... fine," Vil relents. "I don't think I would've gotten much done today, anyway."

You actually tilt your head to the side this time, worsening his condition. "Something on your mind?"

Sevens, what are you doing to him? He can't sit still. He pictures himself reaching across the table to pinch your cheeks, to kiss that sweet, worried expression off your face. The effect you have...

And you're not even doing anything!

"No," he says, his voice strained with the weight of the lie. "Just burnout. It's a busy time of year for me."

You seem to take that as a cue, standing from your seat with wide eyes and holding out a hand, much to his chagrin.

"You should be resting, then. Overworking yourself will only make things worse. Come on, let's go back,"

Such a determined expression on that pretty face of yours. There's just something about how you respond so innocently, so intent on caring for him, you're...

You're so...

Vil feels his heart drop. Oh, Sevens. That's the word.

You're so cute.

"Stop that," he snaps. He can feel his face warming. "This is the last time I'll ask."

A little flash of annoyance crosses your face at his dismissal. How adorable...

"Stop what?" You repeat.

Even your scoff is cute. His face feels hot. He can handle beautiful. Gorgeous, pretty, sexy, even, But not cute. And now he's getting himself all worked up over it, and you're being so sweet, and...

"Stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you!"

Nothing has ever had such an effect on him before.

After all, it would take something incredible to fluster Vil- and here he is, blurting out every thought he has, blushing like a schoolgirl as he realizes what just came out of his mouth.

Vil Schoenheit, suddenly terrified of being rejected. It was as if he'd woken up in a parallel universe.

Or died, and went to his own personal Hell.

The shock slowly wears off your face, and you... laugh.

You laugh.

"You're very forward,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, and not the way you meant it," he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Though I'm failing to find what's so amusing."

You move around the table to sit next to him, eyes gleaming. "How would you like me to react, then?"

Vil stares back. Was that... flirtation? Perhaps you're not so oblivious, after all...

But still cute.

Still very cute.

He sighs, though there's a smile playing at his lips now. "Save me the embarrassment of being rejected,"

"Hmm... I suppose that can be arranged,"

And with that, he cups your face in his hands and draws you in for that kiss.

[ellecdc]

babe I recently discovered ur account and now I'm obsessed!!!!! I have devoured ur masterlist! Also I'm new to tumblr so I'm sorry if I'm doing or saying anything wrong pls correct me! I just wanna hype u up queen! Also ok fic request! It's not smut it's smut adjacent! I imagine this with Remus but u can totally change it if u want! Imagine reader whose boobs get super sore before her period and may be Remus is trying to initiate sex like they r making out and he goes to touch her boob and she winces and he's like did I just hurt u? And she's like no no it's fine and may be he believes her but he touches her again and she flinches and he's just like what is wrong don't lie and it's that her ex never cared if her boobs hurt or sex sad painful before her period and just Remus love (sorry it's so long def self indulgent bc my boobs r super sore and sex kinda hurts leading up my period and I just want someone to understand and not make me feel guilty about it)

aawweeee so glad you found me! and thanks for the prompt, lovie <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader whose boobs are sore close to her period [1.4k words]

CW: things get sort of steamy/lead up to smut with no real smut, sexual & non-sexual nudity, mature themes, 18+

You couldn’t help the smile that took over your face when you heard Remus navigating the hall in a way you could tell he thought to be quiet before his head of messy, tawny brown curls appeared in the crack of your bedroom door.

“Hi dove.” He murmured softly as if still unsure if you were asleep or not; his eyes were warm and sweet as honey as he smiled widely and unbiddenly at you.

“Hi handsome.” You greeted in return as you put your book down and invited him in which he accepted eagerly.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He moaned as he crawled up into the bed and melted into you; arms weasingly around your middle as he shoved his face into the crook of your neck greedily. 

“Missed me?” You laughed as you threaded your fingers through his hair. “You were hardly gone three hours.”

“S’too long.” He mumbled, earning him a giggle as you tried to pull away at the tickle of his breath against your neck.

He groaned somewhat hungrily as he pulled you in tighter, beginning to trace kisses up the column of your throat.

You tightened your grip of his hair which only seemed to spur him on as he shifted so he was hovering over half of you. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” He asked under his breath before bringing his lips to yours for an agonisingly long and slow kiss. “Hm?” He continued as if he hadn’t just impeded your ability to answer him. 

“I always miss you, Rem.” You murmured back as he began marking kisses along your jaw and trailing towards your chest. 

He made a sympathetic sound as he got to the top of the tank top you usually slept in, hooking his finger along the neckline and pulling it out of his way to expose your - quite swollen, actually - tits. 

“Neither of us should ever be allowed to leave.” He concurred, switching between wet, open mouthed kisses and sucking love bites into your exposed skin. 

“Don’t you think your friends would miss you?” You asked then, thoroughly enjoying the show as you continued to mess with his hair. 

“Tough.” He said simply before moving his hand to cup one of your breasts to lift it into his mouth, causing you to suck in a pained breath.

All movements stopped and Remus seemed to be holding his breath as his eyes flit up to yours. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously.

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding and nodded at him. “Yeah, sorry, I’m fine.” You agreed, trying to ignore how painfully sensitive your boobs were this close to your period as you encouraged his face back down to your chest.

With only a little hesitation, he continued his ministrations before moving over to your other to bestow upon it the same amount of care. 

You could feel him growing hard as he repositioned himself in your lap, and you tried to focus on that slightly warm feeling trying to grow between your legs (though not nearly as effectively as it had been the week prior) and his pleasure as you allowed him to take from you what he pleased.

But one more firm grasp of your tit had you wincing with a small whine and a flip was switched.

Remus was kneeling; his hands no longer on you which only made you wince in embarrassment rather than pain as he scrutinised you.

“What happened, dove? What’d I do?”

“Nothing, Rem, you didn’t do an-”

“Don’t fib.” He interrupted, his tone stern but his lip jutting out in a very dramatic pout. 

“I’m okay.” You murmured, though you did attempt to sit up and replace your boobs into the confinement of your tank top. Remus watched the action with rapt attention. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked then, and his voice sounded so small that you actually wanted to cry.

“No! No, baby, I’m- ugh, I’m sorry, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just hurting.” You appeased, reaching out to stroke his arm in a manner you hoped to be soothing. 

He seemed to consider your form again as his shoulders sagged. “You’re sore.” He concluded. 

“Yeah, I… well, I get a little sore around this time of the month, you know?” You admitted, watching as Remus’ expression shifted from one of worry to one of abject horror.

“Dovey.” He chided as he stared at you wide eyed.

“It’s okay! I’m fine, we can keep going if you want, I-”

But you only seemed to horrify him even more as his head reared back in shock. “Keep going!? Baby, you are sore to the touch and you were just going to let me maul you?!”

You found yourself very much ill-prepared for this conversation as you shook your head in confusion. “Well, I just meant, if you wanted to we-”

But Remus was scoffing and waving you off before standing abruptly and moving towards the attached bathroom, scolding you along the way.

“Bollocks to what I want, dove. My desire doesn’t come before your comfort.” He explained before you heard water running and him muttering something in Welsh under his breath. 

You were having a hard time understanding whether you were in actual trouble or not before he came padding back out of the bathroom - still muttering to himself in Welsh - with a divot between his brows and a damp washcloth in his hands.

“Take this off, dove.” He directed; tone now soft and alerting you to the fact that there was no real heat behind his chiding.

You obediently shed your tank top and tossed aside as Remus guided you to lay back onto your pillows and placed the cold cloth on your chest.

“Poor girls.” He cooed as he situated himself beside you. “Was being s’mean to them, too.” 

“Rem-”

He simply shushed you and placed a quick kiss on your nose before dotting a gentle one on each of your tits. 

“They’re gonna hate me; they’re gonna think I’m a monster.” He lamented woefully before standing up to change into his pyjamas. 

“They don’t know a damn thing.” You laughed as you let out a breath, relishing in the ease of your banter with Remus.

You weren’t used to it; things being easy, that is. Relationships always felt like hard work before.

Your relationship with Remus still required work, mind you, but it wasn’t hard; it was comfortable and patient and flexible and understanding.

There was no forcing puzzle pieces to fit when their edges didn’t match, there was no walking on eggshells wondering what sort of mood he was going to be in, and there was no stewing on conversations as you tried and failed to fall asleep at night wondering what in the hell you’d manage to do wrong this time.

No, Remus was easy; he was easy to get along with, easy to live with, easy to love.

He was just so easy.

You hoped he thought the same of you.

“Dovey.” He murmured quietly, now apparently kneeling on the floor on your side of the bed as he rested his chin on his forearms. “You know that, right?” He continued when you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Know what?” 

His mouth pursed again in a small pout before he leaned forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. 

“That what I want should never come before what you need; that my desires are nowhere near as important as your comfort.”

His eyes moved to watch as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay.” You whispered.

He let out a sad breath as his brows twitched in sympathy, but you were thankful he opted not to comment on it. 

“I love you.” He offered then, eyes moving back up to yours as he used one of his knuckles to rub at your upper arm affectionately.

“I love you too.” You answered readily. 

He seemed appeased by that and stood to press a more assured kiss to your lips. “Do you want me to run this under cold water again? Or would something else help?”

You pretended to think about it before looking back up at him through your lashes. “Think we could cuddle?”

Remus let out a chuckle as he pressed another kiss, this time to your forehead, and pulled the cloth off of your chest. 

“It’s like you read my mind, sweetheart.”

[leclerckiss]

lover ౨ৎ

notes: charles leclerc x reader, suggestive content, fluff.

a/n: just a little piece I wrote in like ten minutes during my study break. i don’t know.

Home. A pretty piano of white high gloss and ivory near the balconies of Art Nouveau overlooking the beauty of Monaco's streets, drapes in rose, fleur-de-lis, and tassels amongst the palette of white, créme and varnish, the bed a mess of linen sheets and pillows where the cashmere throw has fallen to the floor of birch parquet.

"— Tu es très jolie." ꒰ you are so pretty ꒱

Charles' voice is a hushed resonance near your ear, palms with their slight callouses feeling over the curve of your hips through fabric where the both of you lie in the warmth of a late evening. His lips trace your neck, slow and sweet, committing each inch he touches to his endless memory of you.

Hushed laughter with the subtle rasp of his facial hair against your sensitive skin, your fingertips tracing through tousled, brunet tresses as you tilt your head back on the cushions and welcome the slant of his mouth against yours.

You can taste remnants of a vintage wine and dessert's soufflé on his tongue, some silent and unspoken 'I love you' further than just words, welcoming the weight of his figure over yours on the mattress with the sweet sickness of love.

"All mine," He's mumbling the words on you between kisses, thumb meeting the edge of your collarbone in idle caresses near flourishing remnants of rouge and lilac from the evening before, "So pretty, baby."

He does that frequently, repeating his praise—even between different languages at times—until he is certain you will never forget.

Charles Leclerc has never been shy in the prospect of bathing you with the song of his adoration in compliments and sweet nothings, but it only ever seems heightened under the influence of one too many glasses of Côte de Beaune after a quiet, intimate dinner.

You're a breathless, giggling mess of a girl underneath him, grasping his shoulders, feeling the cotton of his ivory shirt fallen unbuttoned, his hand drifting about the silks of your blushing négligée. It is your favourite feeling.

He's so tender when he loves you like this, patient and gentle with the ghost of his palm along your navel and the kiss of his mouth over the arching of your neck as you sigh blissfully and succumb to the hold. The room is quiet and serene where the moonlight dances through the glass, bathing your skin, and you've never felt safer in his presence: his arms drawn around you, the sound of his breathing and his voice.

"Charles—" Tongues meet again in the sensuous intimacy between lovers before you can continue, whatever words soon lost as you melt into the feeling, ankles locked with his about the edge of the mattress, a quietly amorous and drowsy smile on your countenance when he eventually draws away, though only fractionally, and you're staring into those beautiful eyes of his.

"Hm?" He's kissing the corner of your mouth, then the edge of your jawbone, the invitation of your throat. You feel how his hand draws subtly beneath the edges of your garments, little touches of warmth.

"Tell me something." You request quietly, trying to fill the quietude.

There is the whisper of his chuckle against your clavicle, the softness of his voice and his Monégasque accent that curls on each syllable with his consideration, "Well," Kisses, teeth, "There are many things, ma chérie, which I could say to you."

"Mhm..." Your fingers thread through the ends of his hair, admiring the sight of him in the vulnerability of your shared moments. You know that he is doing this on purpose, just as he knows that you're enjoying every second of it, but you laugh a little and indulge. "Tell me how much you love me."

He smiles at this, leaning his head down a fraction to touch the side of your cheek on his, breaths melting together in synchrony like your hand that entwines with his own on the sheets.

"How could I ever put it into words?" The softest of pecks, and he breathes in the saccharine lull of your perfume until a thought seems to manifest until he shifts over you once more, punctuates his words with another touch of his lips on yours, and reveals handsome dimples, "You know, I'll show you instead."

[lookingformoondrop]

Yan!Andrew with his Reader who found out she's pregnant? Spoiler: She didn't want to have children.

Yan!Andrew Graves x Preg!Reader

TW: Unexpected pregnancy, hints at abortion, reader in captivity, manipulation, yandere Andrew, unwanted pregnancy

♡ Notes: I wrote this entire thing while on a train so you'll probably find a wild typo or error font somewhere here. I said in my last post that my next work would be a fluffy one, I lied. Sorry. Remember kids, practice safe sex, and dont act like Andy. Thank you so much for supporting me, anon! I appreciate all the requests and asks from you guys. <33

Andrew hummed as he removed his shoes and took off his coat.

Work was a drag, his boss was a dick, and his family was unbearable. But despite it all, he had you at the end of the day.

When he came home, he'd always hear your padded footsteps coming down the hall to greet him.

You'd wear one of his shirts or wear a cute outfit he'd pick out for you, all to make him happy.

He just loves you so much.

I mean, that's why he took you in the first place.

You had no idea who he was, only that he was a customer that came at odd times of the day in the cafe where you worked.

He could only guess how poor the pay must've been. How miserable you were... Yes, that's it.

As he watched you, he could spot the circles under your eyes, and he knew instantly that fate had brought you here, or maybe it was a cult summoning? Either way, you belonged with him. And he would bend heaven and earth to keep it that way.

Andrew blinked away his train of thought and looked up. He hadn't heard your footsteps.

That was unusual.

Andrew quickly slipped his bag to the ground and walked further into the house.

The kitchen was empty, minus the dishes and pots from last night's dinner that still remained untouched in the sink.

The living room was empty, minus the tissues scattered all over the floor, and the blankets that pooled the floor.

With his heart racing, he sprinted to the last room he hadn't checked. The bedroom.

He pushed the door open with haste; his eyes wildly searched the room.

The bed was unmade, and the sheets were shoved off the mattress, trailing onto the wooden floor.

As Andrew stepped further into the bedroom and he could hear the sound of the shower, and small sniffles coming from inside.

Andrew let out a sigh of relief, you hadn't left. You were still home with him. But now he had another problem to deal with.

He knocked on the bathroom door and heard a quick shuffle from the other side. The water turned off and Andrew flinched at the sound of objects crashing.

Then out you came, your eyes were red and your hair was messy, as if your fingers ran through them constantly.

You mustered a smile for Andrew, muttering out a weak 'welcome home' before Andrew grabbed your arms for inspection.

"What happened? What were you doing? Why were you crying?" He craned his neck out to try and look inside the bathroom, but you quickly closed the door.

"I was about to take a shower when you came home so uh, I dropped some bath products when I realized I hadn't greeted you." It was a horrible lie, really. You knew lying was one of Andrew's biggest pet peeves, even if he lied consistently himself.

"My little lamb, you're not making a lot of sense right now..." Andrew tried giving you a sweet smile, but the vein twitching in his forehead told you how he really felt.

His grip on your arms became tighter, and he leaned in closer, "I would like to know what you're keeping from me, please."

"I... I was crying," you cringed at how weak your voice sounded.

"Clearly, what else? Don't stall for time you don't have Y/N. Tell me who hurt you, I don't fucking care for the reason."

You peeled Andrew's hands off of you which was surprising giving his intense tone. You slowly walked to the bed and sat down, tracing the thread that was imbedded in your mattress. Your eyes lingered on the white sheets for a second too long.

Andrew followed suit, instead opting to go on his knees in front of you as to hold your hands.

He traced his name on your wrists with his finger and hummed a low tune, unremarkable at best, but it calmed your nerves.

"You are my bleeding heart, Y/N. Everything you feel, I long to taste, everything you love, I devour, and every secret you keep from me I savagely rip apart to find. What could you possibly keep from me, that I wouldn't find out in under a day?"

You kept still, refusing to meet Andrew's gaze.

"You have to promise you won't.. um, get mad." You chewed on your lip as you thought about your next words. The lump in your throat grew harder to swallow the more you thought about it.

How were you supposed to deliever such... news, when that news made you want to rip your hair out from stress.

"yeah, I promise. My little lamb, tell me, what is wrong?"

"I'm scared, Andrew." You looked up.

"Scared?" Answered Andrew, who let go of your wrists to instead settle around your waist.

He continued, "What could you possibly have to fear while with me? Are you afraid of someone?"

You shook your head, "no, well maybe, not yet I-" You took deep breaths, your chest felt like it was going to crack from the pressure.

"Not yet? What does that even mean?" Andrew furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched his nose, trying to make sense of it all.

"Andrew, do you know what day of the month it is?"

Andy groaned; his patience was begging to grow thin. "Y/N, I'm done playing this game with you. Are you trying to provoke me to extreme measures or something?"

"No! Just... answer the question. What day of the month is it?"

Andrew shrugged, "It's the first of the month. It's my mom's birthday. It's trash day. It's Monday. I don't fucking know what this has to do with our conversation, Y/N!?"

"No Andrew, just listen to me! Look, I usually get my period on the first of every month. But last month I didn't get my period."

"So?" Andrew looked at you with annoyance in his features.

"So.... I should have gotten my period last month, but I didn't. I'm not an irregular person and I've been here awhile so..."

Andrew's features stayed scrunched with confusion and annoyance as the words mulled over in his head.

Then it hit him.

Andrew fell back on his butt in shock, staring at you, your belly, and then back to you. The realization so big that his brain stopped the train to language station.

"You're pregnant?" He muttered.

You nodded, the tears that danced on your waterline finally falling. Your chest shook, and you gasped deep breaths, the pressure you had on your chest this morning, becoming ten-fold the weight as Andrew processed this information.

Your head hung low as the sobs shook your ribcage.

Without realizing it, Andrew got back up and sat beside you on the bed.

Wrapping his arms around your head and body, so that your body pushed against his chest.

A gigantic smile placed itself on his face, every bad thing that happened up until that point dispearred in a cloud. The only thing he could think about was the baby you were growing.

His baby.

Finally, Andrew let you go and grabbed your face, lifting it up so that he could place gentle kisses on your forehead. "My Y/N, thank you. This... fuck, I thought you were going to say something horrible, but this? Shit, this is the best news I could have ever heard, well maybe besides news of my sister's death or imprisonment but shit this is even better!"

His kisses became harder and more passionate. But he hadn't noticed the soul that had left your body. Instead, you looked at him terrified.

"But... Andrew, I'm not ready for this. I- I don't even think I'm old enough to be raising children, let alone birth one. This thing could rip me apart." Your breathing became quicker, the pressure on your chest becoming an unbearable pain.

You were so sure that Andrew would hate the idea of children, that he would have the initiative to take this thing out of you, but he was so happy, so much so he couldn't be bothered to notice your despair.

"Doesn't matter. You need to stop worrying about things that haven't even happened yet. You're pregnant, and that's all that matters. You're pregnant with my baby, and you will live through every moment." His smile never faltered as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, humming a sweeter tune this time and rubbing your tummy.

"I'm not ready," you cried, shaking your head profusely.

Andrew looked up with a smile, trailing his forefinger down the bridge of your nose.

"Doesn't matter."

You held onto Andrew's hands as he leaned forward and embraced you. Sighing deeply into your chest.

"I love our little family. Don't you?"

Thank you for the ask!<3

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

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

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Hugging your frame, you retreat.

“I think you should leave Coriolanus.”

Your parents frown. He shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own, princess.”

As he reaches for you, you shy away from him. 

“I’d rather be alone forever than be anywhere near you.”

His sky gaze clouds over with anger, the hand falling at his side slowly clenching into a fist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.”

Coriolanus gasps. A look of hurt spreads across his features as he gapes at you like you stabbed him in the chest. This is an expression you’ve never seen him wear. You grow uneasy. He turns to your parents and sighs.

“I told you she’d react this way,” he says, sounding dejected. “Between the hormones and…everything else I told you about. I knew she’d be in denial.”

Strabo squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. It’s not your fault,” you father says, giving a forlorn smile.

Your mother’s eyes shimmer with concern as she looks at you.

“Sweetie, everyone cares about you here. If we just sat down and-”

A wave of irate heat surges through you. It begins in the pit of your stomach, swelling as you watch Coriolanus’ interactions with your parents. The way they comfort him, hug him. Like he’s more their child than you are. The prodigal son they always wanted.

After all, you are the throwaway child, you’re viciously reminded. The District 2 orphan they graciously took in who never quite met their expectations. Tragically lacking at every turn. A disappointment.

Your palms tingle as your blood starts to boil.

You rush down the stairs.

“No! Ma, Dad…” You seize your mother’s hand. “He lied to me, did things to me. He kept me in his house. He-”

Coriolanus’ brows thread, his eyes misting over with unshed tears.

“If you need to make me the villain in your story to make this okay, princess. Go ahead.” A mirthless chuckle floats from his lips. Once more, he looks at you like you’re the one causing him great hurt, not the opposite. His shoulders slump. “I’ll be the villain if that’s what you need.” He rubs his eyes, sadness twisting his features as he talks to your parents. “I’m sorry. I never realized it’d be this…difficult for her to accept what happened between us.”

“Nothing happened between us!” you shout, tears of frustration pressing behind your eyes.

He scoffs, blue gaze flicking over your belly. “Nothing?”

Your mother cups your face, her expression puzzled. “So Coriolanus isn’t…the father? You two never-” She glances at him then you. “Is William the father of your child then, sweetie?” She caresses your cheek. “We’re not judging you. We just want answers.”

You chew on your lip. Your attention darts from him to your mother, your insides clutching. A lie sizzles your tongue, nearly spilling in desperation, but you quell it. What would be the point? Your mother’s always known you wanted to wait. That was the plan, initially. And William isn’t the one you spent every day with for the last few weeks. Your parents are also aware of that fact.

There’s no doubt who the father is. They know it. You know it. And from the smug way he’s standing by your parents’ side, he also knows it.

“No, it…it can’t be William. It’s Coriolanus,” you admit begrudgingly. The words alone ache as they skip off your tongue. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “But he lied to me, Ma. So much.”

She tilts her head.

“Lied about what?”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“The night of the party, Sejanus-”

Your father’s thunderous voice interrupts your tearful confession.

“Enough!” he curtly rumbles. “You dare bring your brother into this? When Coriolanus was the only real friend he made all these years?”

A shocked exhale leaves your throat. You shake your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“Dad, you don’t understand-”

 “You’re not a child anymore!” he bellows.

His razor-sharp tone has you leap back in fright.

Your voice comes out small.

“Dad?”

He heaves out a deep sigh, pulling out his breast pocket square to dab the fat beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead.

“However this happened, it did.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever mistakes were made, a child is involved now. A small, innocent child. My grandchild. I will not hear anymore about this senseless teenage drama.” You deflate, your eyes growing wide. The finality in your father’s words pulverizes the last shred of hope within you. “And I will not let my own daughter drag our house into further ruin after losing my only son.” Your father winces, his hand clawing his chest. His knees buckle and he starts sinking onto the floor. Your mother and Coriolanus rush to his side. Your jaw drops. All the color drains from his face. Your mother starts weeping. You go to your father, helping him sit in the living room with your mother and Coriolanus as he takes large gulps of air. It lasts a while, long, horrifying minutes, his wheezing breaths causing your own pulse to race. You begin to wonder if you'll lose a father on top of a brother.

“Breathe, Dad, please…” you whimper, holding his hand.

After some time, it thankfully stops. Your father’s exhales slow down and he regains some color. Relief fills you. You genuinely thought you were about to see your father die right before you.

“Take it easy, Mr. Plinth.”

“Honey, your heart…”

Strabo waves off his wife and Coriolanus as they fuss over him.

“I’m fine,” he assures, his frown returning. His disapproving stare cuts into you. You shrink. “You’re an adult now and you need to start acting like it.”

Your mouth opens then clamps shut. You don’t want to upset him again, not when the argument from before sent him in such a state.

You lower your head. “Y-Yes, dad.”

“Sit down,” he instructs.

“O-Okay.”

You take a dour seat on the opposite couch. 

“Coriolanus, you sit down too,” he adds.

Your stomach sinks. The blond’s eyes find yours across the room. Your father is still recovering, hand on his chest, and your mother is too busy caring for your father. None of them see what you do. The winning glint dancing in his blue orbs and the almost imperceptible smirk as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Of course, Mr. Plinth.”

Once your father is better, he and Coriolanus start discussing the logistics of your new…situation. The entire conversation is a vivid nightmare, making you question your own sanity. You are there, but might as well not be, with the matter-of-fact way your future is being discussed as if everything is already set in stone. 

Your heart skips a beat when Coriolanus promises your parents to marry you before the fall. He says he wants to do it quickly to avoid any gossip, before you start showing, but also provide enough time to make it grand and memorable. It’s a stark contrast to what you and William had in mind. A small, intimate gathering of only your parents and a few of William’s closest friends. You both decided you only really needed the other in the end.

Coriolanus however sounds like he wants the entire Capitol to watch him slip a ring on your finger. 

Your insides curl in horror.

The moment living arrangements are brought up, your heart races.

“I can’t move in with the Snows,” you interject, shocked by what your father just suggested. Though, it shouldn’t surprise you. Your father’s a traditionalist. Of course, he’d agree with Coriolanus that you should move out of their home and swiftly into his.

“You will have no choice. We’re selling the house.” 

You bolt to your feet, your brows grazing your hairline.

“What?”

“The paperwork is already signed.” Your father crosses his arms. “We are moving on the floor below theirs. I had the entire place renovated. It’s quite spectacular, you’ll see.”

A humorless laugh escapes from your throat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be good, sweetheart. A fresh start,” your mother assures, rising to clutch your hands in hers. Her hopeful smile sends a wave of queasiness through you.

Your father’s gaze narrows.

“Coriolanus has graciously agreed to salvage your virtue by taking your hand in marriage…or whatever’s left of it, I suppose. You should be grateful he’s allowing you to save face. Many men would shirk the responsibility. You are lucky it was him.”

Your mind races, a million thoughts crowding it at once. 

“When is this move supposed to occur?”

“The entire house will be empty by the end of the week.”

Your breath catches. You give a slow, acrid nod.

“So it’s all been decided. I don’t get a say.” You snicker, backing away from your mom, backing away from all of them. This is a madhouse. Your brother died and they all lost their minds.

…Except for him.

He looks far too content with himself not to understand what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you. How could you be stupid enough to trust Coriolanus Snow?

You still remember the way he was at the Academy. Always observing, gauging, weighing in every situation to figure out what to do or say to get himself ahead. Always looking out for himself. You saw things in him that were never there. And now you’re paying the consequences.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to be here. Clearly, as always, you know best, Dad.”

“Sweetie…”

You slap away your mother’s tentative hand. Her mouth falls as heartbreak fills her eyes.

“May I be excused, Father?” you snap.

“You may,” he replies with a similar tone.

Turning your back to everyone in the room, you make a beeline for your room. 

The faint knock on your door is ignored as you bury your head further in your pillow. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now. No one in this house anyway. You have been betrayed. Sold out. Abandoned. By your own parents, no less. If Janus were here, this wouldn’t have happened, you’re sure of it. He always stood for what’s right. He never let anyone hurt you. He’d have never doubted a word coming out of your mouth. Your brother’s death left you prey to a monster.

“You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I knew you weren’t ready.”

Your head whips up. Adrenaline pours in your blood as you find Coriolanus leaning against your bedroom door. He locks it shut and you sit up immediately.

“All of this could have been avoided.”

“Leave me alone,” you hiss, shrinking in a corner of your bed.

Coriolanus frees a long, weary breath. He takes sluggish steps across your room. You tense when he sits on your bed. His deceptively soft voice propels ice in your veins.

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re making this harder than it has to be, princess.” He strokes your ankle. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ll be a good husband, a good father. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised.”

“How can you even be sure I’m pregnant?” you chance, hoping to erode that frustrating certitude laced in his tone. “It was just two or t-three times. It could be a mistake…”

A lopsided slant tugs his lips skywards.

“A mistake? After all the time I spent making sure it takes?” Befuddlement knits your brows. A chilling expression settles over the blond’s features. He chuckles. “Oh princess, god you are so sweetly naive. It wasn’t just three times.” A sinking feeling spreads through you. Coriolanus inches close to you, a small smile creeping on his face. “You know me, I’m a lot more thorough than that.”

You tremble, disarmed by his statement.

“What do you mean? It was. I remember…”

He arches his brow. “Do you?” Coriolanus cocks his head, fondling the side of your face. “You know, you look so pretty when you sleep. Vulnerable, defenseless. You also make such lovely noises. I mean, how could one resist…” You shudder, your eyes growing wide as saucers. “I’m glad the tea helped you find rest. You seemed so at peace. Like that sleeping princess in the fairytale. You never stirred, never woke up, never screamed. Not even once. You just kept making those sweet little noises…” His smile broadens, crooked and taunting. “Like you couldn’t get enough of it.”

You gasp and leap from your bed. The implication behind his words makes your head throb, queasiness engulfing your entire being.

All those times you awoke feeling strange, your body tired in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Now it makes all the ghastly sense.

A sinkhole opens beneath you, the blood seeming to drain from your body all at once.

You stagger backwards until your back collides with the wall, the only thing keeping you on your feet as your knees threaten to give out.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Get out of my room.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces matter-of-factly as he gets to his feet. He sighs. “Hopefully you’ll have calmed down so we can have the rest of your things moved to the penthouse.”

As your quivering frame clings to the wall, Coriolanus snorts.

“Cheer up, princess. You have a bright future ahead of you. I can already see us. Me as President and you as my beautiful First Lady. They will love you, I know it. Especially in the districts.”

“You’re…”

“Crazy?” he finishes. He approaches you. You’re paralyzed as he frames your jaw and articulates, “Not crazy. Focused.” His thumb skims over your bottom lip. “Which means when I want something, I usually get it.” His eyes twinkle. “Snow lands on top.”

He drops a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, princess,” he chimes. You remain still until he unlocks the door and disappears through it. When he’s gone, you let yourself crash onto the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore.  

You listen for the car outside, the sign of Coriolanus’ departure. Once the revving of the vehicle stops, only silence remaining, you make a mental checklist. You set aside the turmoil inside you, bottling every emotion tight. A warm coat. The sturdiest boots in your closet. Perhaps a dress or two. Sensible pants. Just in case. That stash of money Dad hides beneath a drawer in his study in case of emergencies. What else do you need? 

The more you mull it over, the more determined you become.

In a few hours, Coriolanus will return to take you away. He will not find you.

You will make sure of it.

As you rush through the cold streets of the Capitol, you keep pulling on the hood of your coat. Your panicked gaze darts across the night, your heart jumping every time so much as an alley cat crosses your path. Paranoia creeps in, making your nerves flare and your heart drum. 

What if Coriolanus had you followed? What if he was just waiting around a corner to drag you back to his house? Nothing is impossible nowadays. It might be silly but even as you snuck outside your childhood home, eyes seemed to trail your every step. Still, even as you peer around you, you find nothing but darkness crowding your sight. 

Your feet bounce as you linger on the doorstep. You hesitate before knocking, your fear and insecurities colliding inside you. You tremble as the chilly wind seeps through your coat. This could go so horribly wrong. You were so stupid. 

It would make all the sense in the world if he turned his back on you now. You wouldn’t even blame him. It’s what you deserve.

But before you can brace yourself to knock again, the door opens in front of you.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you toss your arms around him.

“William!”

He doesn’t move at first, frightfully still as you latch onto him. Your chest wrenches. Did you lose him as you feared? 

However, to your utter surprise, his warm, familiar hand sweeps over your back.

He lifts your chin.

“What’s going on…Are you okay?”

Whatever resentment he may have held onto, there is nothing but fondness and worry glistening in his forest gaze now. As if you never ripped his heart from his chest. As if you never left his loving embrace.

You grip the lapels of his shirt.

“William, I know what I said. I know you probably hate me…but I need to leave this place. Tonight.” Your voice warps with tears. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”

His brows draw together, confusion painted on his boyish features. He steps back to check you over. “Wait, slow down. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I’m pregnant.”

William stares at you for a long time. Shock, hurt and a million other emotions fleet across his face. Guilt flickers through you. You should have had this conversation with him a while ago.

He bites on his thumb and chuckles but it’s bereft of any amusement. He paces across the room for a while, looking at everything but you. Your heart shatters as you watch him. You didn’t want to put him through this.

He stops in front of you eventually, his mouth tight and his gaze sharp.

“Tell me everything. For once, I want the truth.”

“William, we don’t have time. In a few hours-”

He cuts you off sternly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you talk to me.”

Your shoulders sag.

“Right, that’s fair.” You gnaw on your lip. “I-I just don’t know where to start.”

He closes the door behind you. You let him take your hand and escort you to the living room. He points for you to sit across from him. William studies you, his hands joined in front of his face. His intense stares bears a hole into you. You fidget, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is hard to read. 

William releases a deep breath before running a hand through his tousled curls.

“How about you start at the beginning?” he says, his eyes diving into yours.

[thehighladywrites]

— “it’ll be our little secret, professor”

☀︎ - pairing: eris vanserra x reader

☀︎ - summary: you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor?

☀︎ - warnings: smut, oral (m.receiving), hint of degradation, taboo relationships, student x professor, both are obviously old enough, i just want him so bad GOD

☀︎ - amara’s note: this is going to be a series where i’ll post text threads with prof eris, headcanons, just different things. I’m planning this series to be about 10 chapters, but I literally have no structure, I just write. also i hope you like this as much as I do. and if you see any mistakes, no you don’t

In the corner of the club, everything felt a bit fuzzy. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and different scents. Dim lights created a soft atmosphere, and the distant sounds of the crowd and music blended together. It was like time slowed down, and you were in your own world, just soaking in the low-key vibe of the club corner.

The earlier shots hit you, and now you're in a blissful, relaxed state. All you could focus on were the hands exploring your body, lips locking with yours, and captivating scent surrounding you.

In the heat of the night, you ended up kissing a stranger without a second thought. The risk of being alone with someone unfamiliar did register – you just didn't care. Discovering your boyfriend's cheating after a difficult three-year relationship, marked by numerous breakups and makeups, left you feeling free from a toxic situation.

Now, free from those shackles, you embraced the chance to breathe and have some carefree fun. You had gone out with your friends, planning to originally get black out drunk but you suppose there’s better ways to cope.

Coming up with the idea of harmless fun, you and Elain came up with new identities for everyone to play out. Providing a random name, you spun a fat lie of being an up-and-coming writer, in the middle of writing your latest novel. Falsely claiming to be older, you described a beautiful house situated on the outskirts of Prythian that you owned. It was all part of a lighthearted game, with no harm intended since you believed you'd never cross paths with the guy again. It was ridiculously easy to bag the man since he didn’t tell you anything about himself, only nodding when you talked about yourself.

The attractive stranger had dark copper hair, captivating amber eyes, and stood several inches taller than you. His eyes glistened in mirth mixed with hunger. His muscular build caught your attention, and you found yourself grabbing onto his strong arms.

If his looks didn't captivate you, his mouth certainly did. His wicked tongue unleashed clever comebacks and tantalizing dirty talk that sent shivers down your spine.

The best part? He was older, more mature, more confident and much more good-looking – just so much more than your ex. Comparisons might be wrong, but if you had to choose, the man in front of you was a no-brainer.

Because he wasn't some guy; he was a man who acted like a man, who spoke like a man and touched you like a real fucking man.

The man had been touching and kissing you for what felt like an eternity. You greedily wanted more from him. You didn't want to regret not taking the chance, and almost as if he could sense it, he invited you back to his place.

You nodded, excusing yourself to let your friends know about leaving. Approaching them, you shared your decision to go with him, and Gwyn, Nesta, Em and Elain cheered you on. However, Feyre, always the protective friend, expressed her concern.

“Go get some, but I swear I’ll hunt him down if anything happens, got it? And have your location on.”

Her words, while somewhat playful, held a genuine undertone of worry.

You nodded and promised her you’d be safe before hurriedly made your way outside to the handsome man.

“Still want to come with me, sweet thing?” he asked curiously, making sure it was still something you wanted.

“Mm, yeah, still wanna go. Unless you've changed your mind?” Stepping forward, you grabbed the man's tie, pulling it gently as you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. A playful glint clouded your gaze as you cocked your head to the side, oozing confidence.

He smirked down at you with a wicked glint, clearly showing his mind was nowhere near changed. The man stepped forward, rubbing his clothed cock against your dress, making you feel his hard on through his pants

“Does it feel like I’ve changed my mind?”

The chemistry you had was unmatched, he was so clever and witty and you wanted to know more about him as he led you to his car, a sleek, black one, indicating money.

You’d blame your forwardness on the alcohol tomorrow when you remembered how you just blurted out the question.

“Hey, you rich or something?” you giggled.

The man opened up the backseat door for you and through the side of his eye gave you an amused smirk.

“Or something.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, grinning, as you hopped into the backseat, enjoying the warmth of his hands securing your seatbelt and closing the door.

But hold on, the backseat?

Weren't you supposed to sit upfront with him? Before you could ask, he opened the other backseat door and slid in beside you.

Maintaining eye contact, he grinned at your confusion and said, “Alden, please take us home.” A faint "yes sir" was heard, and the car started moving. Shocked, you realized he had a driver – clearly, he was quite wealthy.

You scanned the spacious car, realizing there was more than enough room for the fun activities on your mind. With a screen separating you from the driver, you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved closer, straddling his lap.

His hands instinctively found your hips, guiding your movements over him. Lips on your neck, he left dark marks as your hands ventured lower, reaching his cock, which elicited a groan from him. Your eyes widened as you felt the size of him. The man simply flashed you a subtle smile and raised his eyebrows.

You unbuckled his belt, maintaining eye contact as you carefully watched his face show pleasure as you put your hand down his pants and stroked him. You gave him a few lazy strokes, eventually shuffling off his lap and kneeling infront of him, ready to put your mouth to use.

Time became irrelevant and all that was heard were the sinful, obscene noises mixed with his hisses of pleasure as you sloppily bobbed your head up and down, swirling your tounge around the head, running your finger over the slit.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. Could use this slutty little mouth forever.” he rasped, hips bucking as his hands went to your hair, slightly pulling on it as you let out a muffled whimper.

Pre cum and spit dripped down your chin, slowly making it’s way to your chest and floor as you pushed your head down further and further, feeling satisfied at his sounds of pleasure.

Once, twice, you grip on the shaft and slap the tip on your tongue before sucking on the sensitive head.

With a quick twitch of his cock, he cums, experiencing euphoria in his buzzed state. He gasps and moans pitifully as his lips twitch between his teeth and his hips buck into your mouth against his better judgement. You pump your hand at the base of his cock where you are unable to fit, swallowing as much of the hot, sticky ropes that coat your mouth as you can. As he pours into you, the walls of your pussy clench around nothing, so badly wishing your were sitting on the cock that was currently on your tongue.

His cum was everywhere - your hair, your face, your tits. He slumped against the seat and moved his eyes down back to you, catching you licking of the sticky residue of your fingers.

Before either of you have a chance to say something, the car slows down to a halt signaling that you’re probably at his place. He tucks himself into his pants and doesn’t buckle them before he opens the door and grabs you, throwing you over his shoulder as you laugh. Your mind forgets about the fact that you’re covered in his cum and just blanks when you take a look at his so called house, a mansion or a fucking estate is more like it.

The lengthy driveway opened up to a stunning front yard adorned with red and orange-leaved trees, an unusual scene for the end of summer. A well-lit, ornate fountain with three tiers stood proudly infront of the house, enhancing the beauty of the surroundings. The massive Victorian mansion, with its beautiful windows and overgrown vines stunned you.

He set you down and held your hand as he led you into his room, and it overmet your expectations. Instead of a dark, edgy space, it was spacious with earthy tones and bathed in soft ambient lighting. The room exuded comfort, making you wish to stay longer. His bed, adorned with a large fluffy comforter and a million pillows, looked inviting.

Various trinkets and figurines adorned the room, but what captured your attention was a massive bookcase showcasing your favorite books. Intrigued, you dropped his hand and made your way over. Your eyes widened at seeing a book from your wishlist, yet to be released. Confused, you asked how he had it, and he explained that Sellyn Drake was an old family friend and had gifted it to him.

You decided to tease him about the book, saying, “You know, I've heard great many things about this book. How about you tell me what it's about? I heard it had some... exciting scenes.”

His eyes met yours, and with a subtle smile, he stepped closer and closer, “How about I show you instead?” The air seemed to thicken with a hint of tension, leaving you curious and captivated by the possibilities that lingered in his suggestion.

——

Your legs trembled as you hastily stood up, determined to make your exit. Having been fucked stupid all night, dawn was approaching, and the new semester was starting tomorrow, leaving you with a load of preparations. You located your dress, bag, and heels, putting the clothes on carefully. Quietly, you ordered a cab to avoid startling the man still asleep. Before leaving, your eyes lingered on his bookshelf. Tiptoeing closer, you took the book you'd eyed the night before and read the teaser on the back. Glancing between him and the book, grabbed it, and silently left his room and house.

——

Feyre, Elain, Nesta, Gwyn and Em, your friends and roomates, practically pulled you across campus to grab your schedule and check out the new students filling the cafeteria. The buzz of excited chatter and the aroma of coffee and sweet pastries filled the air as you scanned the room. After a few moments, you parted ways, each heading to your respective classrooms, the anticipation of a new semester buzzing in the atmosphere.

You wandered through the literature building, searching for classroom LE4, the place where Advanced Literature with Professor Beron awaited. Memories of your first year with him being an absolute ass lingered, so you hoped he'd calmed down over the summer, giving everyone a fucking break.

You finally entered the huge lecture hall and climbed the stairs, opting for a seat at the back, hoping to fly under the radar in case Professor Beron was in a bad mood.

A few rows down, you spotted your ex, Ilias, with a new girl on his lap. His sleazy smile and wandering hands were more icky than anything ever. Reflecting on why you ever went back to him so many times, you turned around, focused on bringing out your notebook and computer from your bag. As the doors opened, the click-clack of quality shoes echoed through the hall, accompanied by girly giggles and voices creating a murmur in the background.

A jolt of surprise froze you, and your heart seemed to pause for a moment as his voice unexpectedly filled the room. All your previous movement ceased, and a sudden hush fell over the surroundings, creating an atmosphere charged with unexpected tension. The shock of hearing someone you hoped thought to see again made time momentarily stand still.

“Hello. I'm Professor Eris, and I'll be taking over this class. My father used to teach it but has passed away, so I'll be filling his shoes. I anticipate a productive year together. If you doubt your ability to keep up with the rapid pace of this advanced class, I suggest you leave now and spare yourself, as well as me, the trouble.”

Panicking, your eyes scanned the room for any possible escape route. There was just no fucking way you could be in this class when your professor had fucked you against his bookshelf, or when you had his dick shoved down your throat. Sinking in your seat, you desperately opened your computer, using it as a shield, praying he wouldn't notice you. The need to escape intensified, but the fear of drawing attention kept you frozen in your seat.

As dread crept in, he pulled out an attendance list. The sinking feeling deepened as he insisted everyone state why they chose the course. Hiding behind your computer, you debated revealing your presence or attempting to stay under the radar.

"Ilias Smith?"

"Emma Wilson?"

"Jess Lennox?"

"Amanda Gomez?"

Each one confidently declared "here" and delved into passionate remarks about Hemingway, Austen, Kerouac, all the authors that made them choose this course or whatever. Your hands started sweating as Professor Eris called your name. When you hesitated, he repeated it louder, his gaze scanning until it locked onto you.

Anticipating an intense reaction, all you saw was a slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Well? Are you here, Y/N L/N?”

You mumbled a faint "yeah," and when he asked why you were there, your words fumbled, “Uh, I suppose because I like books. A huge fan. Yes.”

Your classmates chuckled at your less-than-impressive answers, and you sunk back into your chair, just observing for the rest of the lecture. A few rows ahead, a group of girls giggled, thinking they were discreet as they whispered about Professor Eris. Their discussions about their fantasies sparked a tiny irritation within you.

Like who the hell gossips about someone, so crudely in broad daylight and during a lecture, especially when it's about a professor? It wasn't jealousy, no, no definitely not.

You just found it… super unsettling.

——

After two suffocating hours, you hastily packed your bag, eager to escape. But just as you were about to disappear, your name echoed in the room.

“Miss L/N, do you mind staying behind? There seems to be a problem with your email,” Professor Eris announced, leaning against his desk with his massive arms crossed. He bid the remaining students goodbye and waited until they all left before locking the doors.

The moment those doors clicked shut, the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically. The tension became so thick you could practically cut it with a knife.

He turned back around and approached you, merely a few inches away, face a mix of amusement and curiosity.

“Hello there, little liar. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your cheeks heated and nervousness filled you at the memory of the depraved moments you'd shared, causing your gaze to involuntarily drop to his chest and wander downward, reliving those sensations.

However any nervousness vanished as you remembered that he was the one who came to your university. If anyone should’ve been surprised it should’ve been you. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you toyed with the idea of making his year more challenging. Testing how good of a man he really was became a tempting game.

After all, a man like him wouldn't indulge a student, right?

This could turn into a fun little project to spice up an otherwise dull year.

Lifting your chin up, you looked him square in the eyes as your lips twitched in anticipation.

“I could say the same, Professor Eris. You definitely don’t seem like the lecturer type.”

His eyes narrowed at you, jaw clenching as his intense gaze bore into yours. The intensity made you shift a little, almost causing you to lose some of your confidence.

“Do you think you're funny? I believe you understand the situation here. You lied and now you're here of all places. As my student. Well, this is an unexpected twist. One of us will have to quit and report this,” he stated, injecting a hint of playfulness into his serious tone.

Wait, quit? No, you really didn't want him to leave. This could turn into such a nice little distraction, and there was no way you were losing it now. The thought of him leaving added a layer of urgency to the situation, making you quickly reassess the potential consequences.

“Come on, professor. It doesn't have to be like this. I won't tell anyone. And who says we have to stay away from each other? I mean, what the dean doesn't know won't hurt him, right?” you suggested, a sly smile playing on your lips as you flirted with the idea of bending the rules.

Eris looked you up and down before throwing his head back and letting out a hearty laugh. Your brows furrowed as you twisted your lips, wondering if he was laughing at you. Was he not taking you seriously? Despite the uncertainty, the desire to keep playing this game with him intensified.

Eris seemed to notice your mood turning sour and promptly clamped his lips shut.

“I promise, sweet thing, I'm not laughing at you. I’m just amazed at your boldness.” he assured you with a more serious tone, attempting to dispel any misunderstanding.

“Promise?”

He stepped forward, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You both knew that under no circumstances should you be doing this. If anyone caught you, there would be hell to pay. Expulsion and blacklisting from any other Ivy League universities for you, and definitely prison or some sort of pesky law thingy for him.

Yet the mere thought of engaging in something so wrong and secretive made your stomach flip, a mix of thrill and anxiety churning within you.

Looking up through your lashes, you blushed, a deep crimson hue spreading across your cheeks as you once again grabbed his tie and pulled him closer.

“I promise I won't tell anyone, professor. It'll be our little secret,”you whispered, the words laden with a taboo excitement that sent a shiver down your spine.

A wicked gleam flashed in Eris's eyes, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Well then, miss L/N,”he whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Let's see just how well we can keep our little secret.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓛𝓲𝓮 ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ/ᴛᴀᴠ

⋆˙⟡♡ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʙᴇᴅ, ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ’ꜱ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀ ᴅʀɪɴᴋ… ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴀᴀʀʟᴇᴘ ᴀꜱ ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘꜱ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅʟʏ.

⋆˙⟡♡ Slight NSFW | Angst? | Dubious | Sloppy Kisses

“Aw, poor little mouse, so desperate~” Haarlep had said it in the most condescending way and it shouldn’t have made your tummy flutter as much as it did. Biting back a reluctant moan you tilt your head to the side, your eyes find Raphael sound asleep on the bed just a few feet away from you and the incubus…

Haarlep doesn't give you much time to think. He presses you into the floor, your knees trembling under the pressure of their body pushing against yours, “I’m awfully worried about you~”.

They cup your chin and stroke their thumb across your lower lip, their nails just barely pricking the skin before forcing your head back to look them in the eyes. A wicked smile gracing their lips, “Raphael is quite inept, I'm afraid~ I doubt he pleases you even when he tries his best. Adorable, yet so disappointing for you~”.

You wanted to tell them how wrong they were but your words get drowned out by the incubus, who seems to know exactly what you're going to say, “Ah, ah, ah, don't try to lie to me, sweet one~”

“Y-you’re wrong, Haarlep.” You push against their chest, trying to create space between you and them, but it only causes them to press harder against you, “N’no- R-Raphael is not inept! H-he’s-“

A deep chuckle resonates in the room, making your core burn hotter than it already was, “No, no, you poor thing, I know the truth. And the truth is you crave something more~”. Haarlep’s tail curls around your delicious thigh, a light squeeze from it causes you to gasp softly.

Their tongue flicks over your lips before snaking into your mouth, a mixture of both of your saliva pooling in your mouth, threatening to drip down your chin. Haarlep’s tongue twists and twirls with yours, the taste of their mouth driving you mad. Their kiss was nothing like Raphael’s, ‘nn-no…’ , the taste was different- a taste that was distinctly Haarlep, and they were so much more aggressive. So much more needy and hungry and it made you weak…

“Mm~ ♡“ Their fingers thread through your hair tugging sharply at the roots, eliciting a moan from your lips before breaking away from the kiss- a thin strand of saliva keeping you connected before the incubus breaks it with a flick of their tongue, “You want me~ Tell me you want me, Raphael’s mouse. Beg for my touch~"

You whimper, biting your lower lip as your hands curl around their leather black straps. Your head feels light, thoughts muddled and fuzzy, and the only thing that makes any sense right now is, “I-I want you, Haarlep. P-please~ f-fuck me, Haarlep~”. Your eyes peering over once more at your precious sleeping cambion, Raphael… “I-I-I… n’no~ I need-“ You tried to fight the words, tried to shut your legs and stop your wetness, but Haarlep had you in their web, “H-haarlep~ you, Haarlep~. P-Please~”.

The incubus hums in delight, their grin broadening, the sharp points of their teeth glinting in the dim candlelight, “That's a good dove~ Such a pretty and perfect little thing you are~! Now let's have some real fun, hm?”

You could feel Haarlep’s tail spread your leg, the tip flicking teasingly across the skin before curling around the back of your thigh and yanking you closer to their harden cock, “let me show you who you really wish to belong to~ ♡ "

[itsphoenix0724]

Hi! Could I please request Lavander with Eris?

- 🪷

Lavender (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, allusions to smut

Word Count: 1097

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: I love me some Eris, thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it because I loved writing it! Please come visit again soon <3

EDIT: You're my first named anon, I'm SO excited! Thank you so much I really appreciate you, I hope you'll come again!

The fire crackling in the hearth flares in time with your husband’s frustration. He’s been bent over his desk all day, the furrow in his brow now seeming a permanent fixture. The title of High Lord had been hard on him, trying to repair everything his father had broken. You’re exponentially proud of him, however, your mate needs a break. You lean against the door frame of his study, clad in a silk nightgown and a barely-there robe. 

“Eris,” your voice breaks the quiet in the room like booming thunder. 

“One minute love, I promise.” He mutters, amber eyes scanning over another report or trade agreement. 

“Eris,” you try again, taking another step into the room. His eyes flick up to you for one second, the pupils going wide just a fraction. 

There’s no other tell that your husband wants to bend you over his desk, but every fire in the room burns hotter. 

“You look delectable, but I have to finish this.” He sounds mournful as he runs a hand through his hair. You hum, walking around to the back of his chair, and lazily draping your arms around his neck. Eris leans into your touch for a moment, exhaling a long sigh of relief. You drop a kiss onto his hairline as you rub circles into his shoulder planes. He practically purrs at your ministrations, melting into your soothing hands. 

“Take a break.” You mutter, planting kisses at the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear and he groans. “Let me take care of you, please.” 

“Are you asking or demanding?” Eris chuckles finally setting the documents down. 

“Your High Lady demands it,” You purr, “How about a massage?” You question and he hums his agreement, his eyes slipping shut as he lets you lead him away from his desk. Eris follows you like a man in a daze, blindly stumbling after your form like you’re leading him out of the underworld. When you finally enter your bedroom, Eris’s body almost crumbles in relief. He missed being in here with you, the comforting touches of the space you two share. You turn to face him and he’s knocked aback by your beauty, clad in your nightgown and robe as you begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. Finally, the fabric falls to the ground as you run your hands over the strong planes of his shoulders, down his biceps, and clasp his hands in yours. You press a featherlight kiss to his lips. 

“Lie on the bed,” You whisper against his lips, urging him backward toward the invitation of the soft mattress and cool sheets to fight against the ache in his bones. Eris follows your instructions leaning back on the bed and flipping over on his stomach. He feels your body, delicate and soft as you straddle his waist. You pause for a moment to uncork the bottle of sweet-scented oil before warming it in your hands and slathering it across his back. You run your hands across his back, skipping across like stones on water. Your fingers work each notch of his spine, trying to work out the knots that nest themselves between each vertebra. Eris wants to dissolve beneath your fingertips, forget everything he is, and all that weighs on his shoulders. 

The only thing he wants to be is your mate. That’s all he’s ever wanted anyway. 

He sighs letting himself sink down into the mattress as his mind finally settles. Eris has been so busy recently trying to rebuild the scraps of the court his bastard of a father left behind for him. You’ve been busy too, the newly established duties of High Lady eating a massive portion of your free time as well. You’ve missed each other, the restless golden thread is finally at peace now that you’re back in each other’s presence. After every knot in Eris’s back has been worked out, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing even you slip off his back and lie next to him on the bed. He reaches for you instantly, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his chest in one smooth movement. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips as he finally kisses you, sweetly and lovingly as he circles the back of your neck. You hum a response, deepening the kiss as you fist the sheets next to his head. You let yourself be kissed, enjoying the way he caresses your ribcage with a harpist's grace, gently plucking a tune in time with your sighs. Eris lays your head on his chest as he warms his hands, letting the fire in his veins soothe the cramping in the crook of your neck and shoulder blades, his other hand running the silk of your nightgown between his fingertips. 

“I’ve missed you,” You mumble into his chest and he noses along your hairline, taking a deep breath.  

“I miss you too, my love” Eris promises, “We will have more time once everything settles I swear.” You know he means it, and you can’t wait until everything settles down once more. Your eyes are beginning to slip shut, but Eris isn’t quite ready to let you drift into your dreams yet, too greedy for your presence. “Would you like some tea?” he asks, barely a whisper into the night and you nod against his chest. He slips away slowly, and you roll into the warm spot he left behind. He leaves the door open when he leaves, padding his way down to the kitchen instead of bothering a housekeeper so late at night. 

However, what he didn’t think of was that his hounds were also feeling neglected, and they missed their mother especially. Five of his hounds found their way into the room as soon as he left, quickly taking up their own territories on the bed. 

You didn’t protest as your personal favorite nestled his way underneath your arm. 

When Eris returned with two steaming mugs of tea he found himself ousted, and you fast asleep surrounded by a pack of sleeping dogs. Laughing to himself he set the mugs of tea down on the dresser, waving his hand to put out the candles in the room. He manages to worm his way back into the bed, rolling his eyes at the disgruntled sighs from the sleeping hound being moved. Eris finally fights his way onto his pillows and arm around your sleeping form as another dog lays its head across his lap. 

And for the first time in what feels like weeks, Eris Vanserra sleeps soundly. 

[kaciidubs]

Get Nasty | Bang Chan x Reader

❣ Summary: No thoughts, or plot, just that song Nasty [extended version] by Russ, and sleep deprived, very horny ideas ❣ ❣ Word Count: 974 ❣ ❣ Warnings: porn without plot, slight dacryphilia, slight Dom!Chris, creampie, mention of edging, begging, fluff at the end if you squint ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as good girl, baby, angel, gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, Chan is referred to as Chris ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣

“God, fuck-”

Chris gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open as his hips drove his cock into you again and again.

“Look at you,” he grunted, tongue running across his plump bottom lip, “doing such a good job- taking me so well, baby.”

You moaned at his praise, fingers gripping the pillow your head was currently laid on for dear life; ‘Keep them there.’ he’d instructed, and so you did.

“Good girl, so good for me.” His thrusts slowed to allow a slow, deep rock of his pelvis against yours, looking down at you with a lazy smirk, “Maybe this time I should let you come, hm? Would my baby like that?”

“Please,” You gasped out, fighting against the roll of your eyes when his dick pressed against your g-spot, “please, Channie, let me come.”

You were sweaty, sore, and strung out from how long he kept you on edge and spread just for him - you were so sensitive at this point that a gentle breeze against your clit could send you over the edge and straight into overstimulation.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head in feigned sympathy, “I know you can do better than that, angel, come on.”

Pleasure-fueled tears stung the backs of your eyes as you stared up at him; warm skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, veins pressing against his forearms like a textured map as his biceps flexed, pouty bratz-doll lips parted and plump, black hair now curled and clinging to his forehead - he was beautifully wrecked.

“Chris, p-please,” your voice trembled, his slow, methodical thrusts keeping your nerves on the cusp of that sweet, sweet release, “can I please come? I-I’ve been a good girl-” You felt a tear escape the corner of your eye, effectively marking the peak of your pent up energy, “I wanna- wanna come for you like a good girl, your good girl, please, baby.”

Squeezing your thighs, a pleased hum vibrated in the back of his throat, “My good girl, yeah?”

“Y-Yours,” You echoed back, whimpering when he pulled out to leave only his tip within your fluttering walls, “only yours, Chris.”

“Then you’ll take it like my good girl, okay?”

Your lips parted for a response but the only sound to leave was a loud moan as he snapped his hips forward, sheathing himself in one fell swoop with the slap of skin against skin sounding after.

If his first pace was fast, this new one was borderline animalistic in the way he pressed your legs up to pin your knees to your chest, grounding himself on his knees and fucking into you like a man possessed.

“F-Fuck! I- Oh- Oh my god-” Your body felt like it was on fire, one side of your brain willing you to wrench yourself away from his brutal thrusts while the other begged you to just lie down and take it like he said - like you wanted.

He pulled your legs down to wrap around his waist instead, welcoming the squeeze as he slid his hands up the plush of your hips and stomach, “My pretty baby - so gorgeous-” Leaning down, he littered open mouthed kisses on your breasts, “-beautiful, you drive me crazy.”

Your back arched, head swimming as tears trailed down the sides of your face, “Chris, please- Can I touch you? Please, please, please-” Your cries were silenced by his lips catching your own, moving in an unpracticed synchronicity as he slid his right hand up to where yours was clutching the pillow case - gently prying your hand away to thread his fingers between yours.

His left hand, however, made a journey for itself between your bodies to where you were connected, the pads of his fingers finding purchase on your neglected clit with small, quick circles.

You choked on a gasp from the new stimulation, your orgasm now barreling toward you like a runaway train, but the only sounds of warning you could make were breathless chants of his name through broken sobs.

“I know, baby,” Chris cooed, timing the circle of his fingers with each powerful rock of his hips, “come for me, I’ve got you - come for me.”

Whether it was the gentle, reassuring tone of his voice, or the consistent, mind melting drag of his cock and fingers, you felt your body tense before the coil snapped - your head falling back against the pillow with a choked moan of his name.

“Fuck,” he squeezed your hand tighter, the rhythmic clenching of your walls coaxing his climax further, “feel so good- s-so good, I-” The hand that was previously working you through your orgasm slid to hold onto your hip, keeping you in place as his pace faltered, “I’m gonna- baby, f-fuck-”

His head dropped to the crook of your neck, attempting to stifle his whimpers against your skin as his hips stuttered against your own - one, two, three thrusts rocking your body against his until he came with a muffled whine.

You used your free hand to card your fingers through his hair, soothing him with gentle scratches against his scalp and earning a low hum in response.

“You sound more fucked out than I am,” You giggled breathlessly, minding the way your pussy fluttered around his softening cock.

Chris sucked in a breath, hips twitching at the slight overstimulation, “Edging you is the same as edging myself, baby - and don’t get me started on how good you look crying for my dick.”

There was a slight pause in your movements until you continued on, tugging gently at the strands, “Maybe… next time you can show me?”

Squeezing your hand that was still entwined with his, he pressed a slow kiss against the underside of your jaw, lips curling into a smirk. “Don’t tempt me into turning that ‘next time’ into the next fifteen minutes.”

❣ I'll say this; I've had this as a draft ever since the song came out, and I only ever remembered it when I was too sleep deprived to finish it, but here I am and here it is. I was so tempted to just leave it on a cliff hanger because I didn't know how I wanted to end it, but somehow I squeaked out a half assed "to be continued" because multiple rounds? Don't mind if I do ❣

❣ Any type of feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dragon Made of Threads

Synopsis: Astarion is making a gift for you.

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion’s mind doesn’t let him rest. 

The reverie is supposed to be a blessing, the only way for the True People to remember their long lives. But his long life was nothing but misery until  very recently and he keeps being dragged into the darkness.

Oh, Astarion was so naive to believe it could have been over by killing his master and having the “rebirth” experience on the grave. 

His past haunts him.

“You are tired,” you touch his forehead as if trying to sense fever. “You need some rest.”

“My sweet, elves can survive without trance for a week. And I am undead. I am fine.”

“You don't look fine. You have dark circles and your eyelids are puffy again. You need to rest.”

“No, I don’t!” He tries to sound confident but instead his voice resembles a rebellious teenager.

You are right, of course. The elves can survive without reverie for a week, the same way non-elves can make it through one or two sleepless nights. Then, the body and mind collapse. 

But entering the reverie… Reliving tortures and humiliation… Feeling the same sense of misery and horror and hopelessness… No, he can’t do that. Not now. Not ever.

You are ready to sleep - it’s the first time in a month that you sleep in the room, not in the tent - the thick curtains protect Astarion from the merciless sun. 

“Please,” you yawn. “Meditate.”

“I will.”

“Don’t lie to me, please, I know when you are dishonest.”

Astarion grins. “Oh, my sweet, I am no liar. I am going to reverie once you fall asleep. I just like watching you when the dreams take over you.”

“Astarion, when you say the truth your eyes are wide open. When you smirk, you lie. Listen, maybe I can do something? Something to make you… think about something pleasant? It’s been a year! There are a lot of good memories to relive. Let’s just find a way to point your mind in the right direction!”

A year of good memories. Well, a little bit more. Four months of having a tadpole in his brain, experiencing freedom and sunlight, falling in love, learning how to feel again, and how to be alive. All these memories are precious, even the ones he is embarrassed about. For example, using you in his own favor. It doesn’t matter you’ve forgiven him - it still hurts.

Astarion sighs and lies beside you. Your arms immediately wrap around him. The familiar warmth is so tender that Astarion lets himself slip away into the reverie.

He is indeed tired.

He needs to rest.

But instead of grasping a good memory, a pleasant or at least bearable, his mind collapses into the abyss.

Chained to the wall. Bleeding. Hurting. He can’t scream anymore. It’s an old memory from when he was still hoping. He begs for mercy but no one listens. Hunger. Pain. Blood. Again, again. 

The master is whistling, carving the symbols on Astarion’s back with a silver dagger. The cursed metal feels like melted lava.

Astarion doesn’t need to sleep, neither does the vampire lord. 

This is your life, forever. You are doomed. No one will save you.

No! No! It’s not true! It will end! It will take two centuries, two long and miserable centuries, but it will come to an end! 

Astarion screams in the past until his throat burns.

“Astarion! Astarion!”

He feels the warm hands shaking his shoulders. He returns to reality like a drowned man from the dark waters, numb and restless.

You don’t say anything and he collapses into your arms, crying like a lost child.

“I can’t… I can’t… I need to rest… But I can’t…”

His back… His back is still bleeding, he can feel it, but your fingers caress the scars. It’s all over. It’s been more than a year. He will never return to those dungeons. No one will ever mutilate him again.

You let him go and pick up the travel sack in the corner. 

“I bought something at the potion merchant. I think it might help.”

“Please, I - I can… handle…”

You take out a bottle with a golden liquid. 

Angelic sleep potion.

The only way to make an elf experience regular sleep.

“No.”

“Astarion, what choice do you have? One more day like this and you won’t be able to walk on your own. You need it.”

“No! I am not drinking this! My mind keeps bringing me real nightmares and I have heard  all about the creepy dreams and nightmares the sleeping mind can weave!”

“But it won't be reality! Besides, when a non-elf is exhausted like you, they don’t see dreams.”

“But I won’t be able to escape it. With reverie at least I know it’s a memory!”

You sit beside Astarion and hug him. “Please. If you don’t want to do this for yourself, do this for me. I can’t see you suffering like this.”

Astarion sighs. “You are manipulative, you know?”

“Learned from a professional”.

Astarion adjusts himself back on the  bed and opens the bottle. The potion smells intoxicating. “But I do this only for you.”

“And I am grateful for your sacrifice.”

Astarion drains the bottle and before he manages to acknowledge anything, sleep takes him.

He sees visions and images. Places and people. Some are familiar, and some are not. His mind weaves the dreams out of emotions, memories, and experiences. 

Astarion dreams of a dragon.

It’s an ancient species of dragons, otherworldly. A majestic creature capable of carrying a dragon rider on its back.

Astarion rides this dragon above the Trackless Sea. There is nothing but the water and open blue skies.

And the sun.

It feels like cat fur on his skin, gentle and warm. 

Astarion wakes up still dizzy with the unrealness of what he saw. 

And he feels amazing.

His body is rested, and his mind is clear. The dream was so vivid that Astarion would believe he was once a dragon rider if he didn’t know about the weird fantasies of non-elven dreams.

He looks at you, sound asleep in the bed. His. You are his. And he is yours. What a sheer amount of luck made you meet each other? And how lucky he is you chose him.

It is still afternoon, hours before the sunset and he knows too well you won't wake up till evening.

Astarion needs to occupy himself with something. He gets up, stretches his arms, and then sees your traveling cape on the floor. 

“Such a messy little thing”, he chuckles. Astarion picks up the cape and notices a hole in the fabric.

Astarion takes his sewing kit from the traveling sack. He loves repairing things for you - complaining all the way, of course - but he never lets you sew yourself.

And then the idea comes to his mind.

Instead of black threads, he picks the red ones. It takes him a few attempts to understand how to do that but then the stitches come naturally from his fingers.

A dragon soaring in the skies. A divine creature from other planes. A beast that came to him in his dreams.

Astarion carefully embroiders the body of the dragon, then the wings and a stream of fire from its mouth.

He still has a lot of threads left and he starts embroidering the other dragon on the opposite side of the cape. 

Then he notices something has changed.

The curtain is wide open and the moonlight streams inside the room. You sit beside him, smiling at his work.

“Oh, sorry, my sweet. I’ve been carried away…”

“It’s all right. I like watching you sew. But it’s the first time I see you making something like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Of course!” you touch the embroidered dragons. “So real! I didn’t know you could do such things!”

“I- I’ve seen them. In a dream.”

The tender fingers touch his curls. “You’ve rested, haven’t you?”

“Yes. I have,” Astarion hands you the cape. “If you want, I can add more. I just need more threads”.

You smile and kiss him. “Of course, I do. Thank you.”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe 

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 4: The Air That I Breathe - The Hollies

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, (sweet and lazy) morning sex, praise, biting, simultaneous orgasm, cockwarming if you squint, sadness, heartbreak, breakups, fighting, arguing, crying, frustration/anger, miscommunication, high school breakups, unrequited love, estranged parent/strained parental relationships, angst, depression, anxiety, self doubt/self consciousness, swearing, flirting, fluff, angst, mentions of hookups/casual sex, sorry if I miss any!

hi everyone. remember i love you!!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! 🤍😌

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Jake’s POV

“If I could make a wish

I think I’d pass

Can’t think of anything I need

No cigarettes, no sleep, no light, no sound

Nothing to eat, no books to read.”

Rays of sunlight scattered across the room, the flowing curtains sheer and allowing the golden hue to fill the space around you. You were half covered with the sheet, the cool air in the room unable to bother you as you turned on your side. You knew exactly where the comforter had disappeared to, and despite the nagging chill, you felt warmer than ever before. The sweet smell of a million memories danced around your head, laced with orange blossoms and vanilla. As you leaned in closer, jasmine and pear joined the crowd. It was a perfect match, things you’d come in contact with plenty of times in her absence, but not even true plush petals of blossoms on trees nor vanilla beans wore it as well as she did.

Your eyes landed on her, cocooned in the expensive duvet as she slept away the early morning. Her hair was a mess, covering the white cotton pillowcase below her. Her eyes were closed, peacefulness encasing her features as deep breaths moved her shoulders. Her dark eyelashes dusted over the barely-there freckles on her cheeks, casting a small shadow over the bridge of her nose. Her lips, pink and parted ever so slightly, allowing for soft snores to escape made it difficult to sit by and watch the scene, rather than lean forward and kiss her, but you abided by the rules, deciding it was best to admire her than wake her and let the moment pass.

Goosebumps raised on your skin, not because of the coolness of the air conditioning seeping through the woven threads of the sheet, but because waking next to her was an otherworldly experience that you were lucky enough to be a part of yet again. Your mouth was dry, your lungs devoid of air, your veins depleted of the blood that once ran through them, and your heart barely beating in a fruitless endeavor. In the moment, you did not survive off the flesh and bone that carried you to twenty-five, but off of the woman beside you, granting you every desire and wish you’d ever dreamed of.

Waking next to her had been something you longed for since the last morning shared with her, vaguely remembering her sweetness as sleep begged to draw her back in and the tired smile that fought its way onto her perfectly crafted features. She slept so soundly, like trouble had never touched her and pain feared to disturb her. She embodied every single trait of the sun shining in the sky, the light emitting from her even when she was not awake to encourage it.

She was the most precious thing the world had ever created, and she was here with you, trusting you enough to let her guard down and show herself to you in the most vulnerable of ways. Sex was good—great, even. It was intimate, invigorating and fulfilling, and you had dreamed of it a million times, but this was something entirely different. This was the best moment of your day, the highlight of your life as you took the opportunity to admire her when innocence and effortless beauty radiated from her. Sex was great, but waking up to the sight of her beside you was something even greater than that, something you had dreamed of a million and one times in the six years you spent apart.

No matter how much you enjoyed the activities of the night prior, loving her so wholeheartedly for no other reason aside from love itself was always better.

You placed your elbow on the pillow, propping your chin in your hand as you studied her, the constellations of dots decorating her smooth skin, the youthfulness of the girl you loved when you were eighteen and the elegance of the woman you were lucky enough to love now combined all in one. It was a picture you never wanted to lose, one you would spend a lifetime dedicated to remembering in pristine detail, and one that you could survive off alone. You would stave off hunger until it was nonexistent, ignore the thirst until you forgot what it was like to drink water, wither away to nothingness so long as she was there for you to admire. You didn’t need any other entertainment, never wanting to sleep again, never needing to play a guitar or hear the sweet melody of a song again, because she filled you with so much love there was no room left for anything else.

Even if there was, it would pale in comparison to her.

The air flowing in the room, perfectly controlled as it tousled the strands of hair falling over her forehead, could not even disturb her from the slumber she found herself in. It made you wonder if she slept as good as you did, if going to bed while the two of you were apart was as torturous to her as it was for you. Six years of nearly sleepless nights had taken its toll, leaving you exhausted and dreading to fall into bed when the day passed by. Last night, you finally found relief that no aid could match. You tried whiskey, above recommended doses of cold medicine and melatonin, company from another, lesser woman than her, and even Josh’s ridiculous guided meditations, but nothing could cure the nightmare plagued sleep or the relentless tossing and turning.

Nothing until she laid her head on the pillow next to you, her fingers twisting locks of your hair around her finger as her warm breath tickled her neck.

Nothing until you closed your eyes, surrounded by orange blossoms, pears, jasmine, and the faint whisper of vanilla.

Nothing until the warmth of sunshine itself wrapped around you, glowing bright despite the looming moonlight and twinkling stars.

This morning, you awoke with a new lease on life, well rested and with a full heart. The heaviness that constantly weighed down on your shoulders disappeared without a trace, and the storm clouds that forever followed you cleared, allowing for a long awaited taste of blue skies.

You were home again, and Michigan had little to do with the warmth you were experiencing. The woman beside you was many things, but more than anything else, she was the biggest comfort you had ever encountered. She made the world turn with ease, the flowers blossomed as she walked by, and the birds sang a song curated just for her ears. She made all the previous pain worth it, and any bad thing to come obsolete, because when she was loving you, nothing could hurt.

Your breath caught in your throat as her eyes fluttered, her eyelashes tickling her skin as she broke from the blanket tightly wrapped around her. Slowly, her arms stretched above her head, a long breath of air filling her lungs as she prepared to face the world for another day. You wondered how she made it look so easy, how perfection was second nature even when she couldn’t notice it herself. You wondered how everything she did, no matter if it was mundane or grandois, stole the air straight from your lungs and left your head spinning.

Her eyes fully opened, slowly blinking as she tried to pull herself out of her sleepy state. Once she registered where she was, her gaze slowly turned to you, watching silently with a smile on your face. It didn’t take long for her lips to turn upwards, too.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You whispered, giving her ample time to come back to earth before you spoke.

“Good morning, bug.” She said, pushing the blankets away from her face as she turned her head towards you. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Only for a little while.” You confessed, slightly sheepish about it. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” She agreed, reaching forward and letting her fingers graze over your blushing cheeks. “I would have done the same thing. Kinda sad I can’t, honestly.”

“I can pretend to be asleep, if you want?” You grinned. She rolled her eyes, shaking her head at your ridiculous need to please her all of the time.

“Think it’s okay, honey. Would take the charm out of it.” She giggled, her eyes turning down to the flimsy sheet covering your legs and stopping just below your navel. “Sorry I stole the blankets.”

“Are you kidding? Been waiting six years for you to steal the blankets from me again.” You stressed your point, ensuring she understood that this was all you ever thought about.

“You’re cold.” She stated, her fingers trailing down your frigid arm. “Come here.” She said, lifting the blanket for you to join her. You slid over, noticing her turn on her side away from you once the comforter was covering you. You slipped an arm around her waist, turning on your side just the same as her while you pulled her into you.

In an instant, you were surrounded in the familiar perfume still clinging to her skin, the soft strands of her hair tickling your face as you buried your head in her neck. Your hand talked upwards, a natural reaction to holding her in such a way. Your palm landed on her still bare breast, cupping it as her arm settled on top of yours. She pushed herself backwards a little further, her back completely pressed against you and the curve of her ass fitting perfectly against your hips. You placed a kiss to her shoulder blade, your stomach twisted with nerves and your entire body tingling with pleasure just from the simple position.

Holding her was your favorite thing to do, even if you knew it had to end eventually. Although the loss of her was debilitating, the few moments you had her all to yourself made up for the pain it caused when she pulled away. If it were up to you, you would hold her just like this for the rest of your life. If she allowed it, you would never let her go.

“You sleep okay?” You asked, your words muffled from your mouth lingering against her skin.

“Better than ever.” She whispered, without a doubt in her mind about it. “You?”

“Me too.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed as you breathed her in. There was nowhere in the world you’d rather be, the surplus of emotion coursing through you so unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

You fell back into silence, neither of you needing to explain any further because you understood exactly how you both felt. The cloud of sleepiness was still hovering around the two of you, begging to pull you back in. It was tempting, but you fought it with everything in you, knowing you didn’t want to miss a single second of loving her.

Absentmindedly, you let your thumb drift over her nipple, hardened from the cold hair combined with your touch. She shuddered at the feeling, her hips pushing backwards into you as a natural response. The movement sent a flood of adrenaline through you and a sudden rush of blood straight to your dick.

“Careful, sweetheart.” You warned, letting her know the consequences of her actions were imminent. She could feel you resting against her ass, catching on to your intent immediately. Instead of heeding your advice, she arched her back slightly, pressing herself against your length even further. Your fingers tightened on her and your hips moved forward to meet hers, in search of relief already even though she barely did anything at all. “You want more already?” You smiled, relieved to know you weren’t the only one tormented by need.

“Been so long, baby.” She confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Been so long since someone could do it right.” She corrected herself, just as eager to make up for all the lost time. You let your fingers trail over her bare stomach, the touch light and tickling her as you advanced toward her hip. You could only imagine she was sore, bruised and still tired from the night prior, so you promised to be gentle with her from your touch alone.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want, angel.” You assured her, knowing that your statement did not even scratch the surface. You would do anything for her, even if it was a hindrance to yourself. You would move heaven and earth to see her smile, you would spend every dollar and every minute of every day in an effort to make her happy. You would do anything, be anything, and give anything for her. You hoped that she knew, that she understood just how important she was and how much you cared about her. You hoped that in a single day, you were able to show her the love you’d sworn to give her when you were fifteen asking her to be your girlfriend in the park, all over again at twenty five.

Slowly, your hand drifted down to her thigh, snaking around to the front of her. Before you could go any further, she reached down and stopped you, turning her head back over her shoulder as she shook her head ‘no’. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what caused her sudden change of heart all whilst you admired the softness and beauty in her still tired eyes.

“I don’t want that. I want you.” She whispered, hoping you understood her meaning. At that, you swallowed hard, feeling your dick throb at the intent of her actions. She was not in search of pleasure from an orgasm, but rather the pleasure of being close to you. She missed it, just as intensely and deeply as you did, the feeling of belonging to each other.

“You have me, sweetness.” You promised her, but abided by her wishes and instead used your hand on her leg to prop it up. You slid down on the mattress a little further, holding her thigh as she steadied it in the new position. “Used to dream of waking up like this every night.” You couldn’t help but feel a smile pull at your lips, almost unable to believe that she was there, beside you and wanting everything you hated yourself for needing all of the time.

“Don’t have to dream anymore, bug.” She breathed, arching her back a little further as you reached between your bodies and lined yourself up with her. You wondered if she thought about it as much as you did, if she craved the feeling of your hands on her skin with such a ferocity that it nearly brought her to her knees. You wanted to ask, to know if she daydreamed about tangled limbs and lazy Sundays in bed together, but a small part of you knew she did, or she wouldn’t have come back.

Your tip was settled over her entrance, already slick with arousal just from the thought of fucking you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your head falling forward as your forehead rested against her shoulder blade. You pulled her down just a little further, letting your hand hold the underside of her thigh so she did not have to exert her energy keeping the limb locked in place. As she moved down, you pushed your hips forward, letting out a hiss of pleasure through your clenched teeth. You pushed forward the rest of the way, hearing her let out a sigh of relief at the feeling as you brushed against the sensitive spot you knew so well.

“You always feel so fucking good, sunshine.” You muttered, taking a moment to rest inside of her. Your heart drummed against your chest, pressed against her back so she could feel the rhythmic beat that depended on her love alone. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.” You followed up your statement, still in disbelief that you had the opportunity to hold her so close again. Still, as you said it, you felt an unfamiliar tug of uncertainty twist your stomach.

Was she yours?

You hadn’t discussed that—in fact, you hadn’t discussed anything. You woke up, still stuck in a cloud of euphoria from life’s turn of events, still living in the fairytale world you had worked together to create. She wasn’t yours in any truthful manner, but rather just the fallacy you had created in your head. The plague of heartbreak continued consuming you, eating away at any bit of sanity that still remained, begging you to air out the unspoken fears that you still had. You couldn’t move forward without addressing what had already happened, which led you to a lazy morning hookup after a successful second first date. You hadn’t addressed the reason for the second first date at all, and if you continued to neglect the fact, it would leave you both at the very beginning again.

Not yet. Not now.

You shoved the feelings down, swallowing them as they got stuck in your throat. They were desperate to be spoken, but you couldn’t allow them to be. You had no idea where they would lead you, and you weren’t risking the end already, not when you just got her back, and not when you were sharing the intimacy with her you’d been craving so badly.

Soon, but certainly not now.

“Fuck, Jake.” She whispered, moving her hips further down in search of what you were holding back. Your name falling from her lips was like summer rain, washing over you with warmth as it relieved you from the irritating burn of the blazing sun. You wanted to hear it again, for her to say it over and over again until she could speak no more and your ears were ringing in the static silence. You never wanted her to stop saying it, never again giving her the chance to speak the name of another.

“This is what you wanted, sweetheart?” You asked, beginning a slow pace with your hips. Your fingers tightened against the flesh of her thigh, a whole new spot to leave a mark on her, ensuring she would remember the moment as the days passed her by.

“Yes, baby.” She breathed, leaning backwards so she was flush against your chest.

Your head fell to the crook of her neck, the sweet scent of her perfume invading your senses as your lips attached to the delicate skin. She was already littered with love bites, her skin sensitive as your tongue traced over her. You didn’t care, and she didn’t either; the state you had left each other in was childish, similar to the way you used to act when you were younger. Even if you would face ridicule at the hands of your careless actions, you were just happy to feel like you were hers again, for others to believe she was yours again.

To feel and to believe, but never in certainty. Even if it was true, you wondered for how long this time.

Although you would promise forever, and you longed to hear it from her too, you did not know. You weren’t even sure if she wanted forever, or if this was a passing moment that would leave you both alone again, with even less closure than before. The idea hurt, and it hurt achingly bad, taking over your entire body with such a devastating effect that it even seemed to overshadow the pleasure that came from being inside of her.

Why did it hurt so bad when everything seemed so good? When perfection was all around you? When the world seemed right for the first time in six years? Why now?

Perhaps it never stopped. The hurt did not go away when she broke the silence, not even when you showed up at her door. It subsided, covered up by the excitement and joy from the reunion, but it was never resolved. You never expected it to come back so soon, when she was still with you, but maybe that was the problem itself.

Being with you and being yours were two entirely different things, and although having her by your side was what you craved, it was not what you wanted. The uncertainty made it hurt worse, just like it did when she was packing up her childhood bedroom with tear stained cheeks and promises of everlasting love. The uncertainty made it worse when you spent those first few days texting, hoping she would change her mind or you would find the courage to speak your truth. Uncertainty was your entire life, never changing her contact name and always hoping that every notification was a ‘hello’ or an ‘I miss you’.

Uncertainty was right now, wrapped up in her and closer than you’d been in a long time, but not knowing what it meant.

But the sounds falling from her lips, strikingly beautiful and oddly haunting made it easy to forget about it, to draw you out of the cloud of doubt and back into the moment with her.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” She said, her head turned back to catch a glimpse of your face. Her eyes were heavy, tiredness still lingering on her features, but it made her all the more beautiful. The intimacy of having her in the state, no guard up and all of the walls broken down, was almost too much for you to bear. Words were failing you, the only thoughts in your head revolving around the same, undying love for her that forever existed in your heart.

You wanted it to last forever, to hold her in your arms until you turned to dust and the wind swept you away. Even then, you would find her again, whether it be in real life or something greater. Every part of you would be tied to her forever, no matter if death tried to get in the way.

“Show me how fucking good it feels.” You growled, your voice low as you held her gaze. Neither of you dared to look away, your arm still holding her quivering leg as you felt her walls flutter around you. She craned her head backwards a little further, just enough to connect her lips with your own.

You met her action, your eyes closing as you focused on all of the sensations at once. The slow, steady pace was almost too much for you. Feeling her all at once, enjoying and appreciating every second of it, all while holding her so close to you was overwhelming in the best possible way. She felt so good, so intoxicating, just like she always had. It was a relief to know that the distance nor the time had any effect on the chemistry existing between you, even if you had both changed so much.

The kiss was sloppy, messy and needy as you tried to hold onto it. The moment was pure bliss, more euphoric than anything else you’d ever experienced. The taste of her on your tongue and the feeling of her wrapped around you was sending you spiraling, still riding the high from the previous night all while getting to experience it all over again. She was more addicting than the sting of a cigarette at the back of your throat, burning stronger in your chest than a shot of whiskey as you swallowed her down, and more thrilling than playing on a stage before thousands.

Perhaps you were so caught up on the unknown because you knew living without her had never been worth it.

She let out a moan into your mouth, letting you drink down the sound as if you were dependent upon it for survival. You slammed your hips forward, a little sharper than before, causing her to repeat the action. You were dependent upon her, not the noises or the pleasure she could grant you. You needed every little bit she could give, and you feared that not even that would suffice. She was everything you’d ever wanted, more than you ever needed, and you were desperate to hear her say that she was yours, not because of a momentary high or a surplus of emotion.

The early morning hours left your willpower greatly depleted, the sleep still weighing heavy on your shoulders and the euphoria you had endured the night before still lingering under your skin. The feeling of her, so close and so intimate, was enough to push you over the edge the minute you felt it. The taste of her on your tongue, the desperation in her movements as she strained to ensure you would not break from the kiss. The scent of her fucking perfume, suffocating you and leaving you happy to die at her hands.

It was all too much. She was too much, and you didn’t deserve a single thing she was offering.

The pleasure was coursing through your veins, depleting your previous life source and creating a new one. Your heart ached from the strength with which it was beating against your chest, your stomach twisted with desire as you held yourself back. She was quickly becoming the only thing you could think about, the only face you could see and the only voice you could hear. As much as you wanted to believe it was a good thing, you felt that same nagging, grating self-doubt as you feared the fallout.

Could you survive her walking away a second time?

The fear was pushed from your mind once again, a rush of pleasure flowing through you more intense than the last. You broke from the kiss, letting out a shaky sigh as you did your best to pull her closer to you.

“Wish I could fuck you like this all day.” You muttered, your fingers digging into the skin on her thigh even further. “Keep you like this for the rest of my life, if I could.” You watched as her hand snaked between her legs, the blankets strewn across the bed and barely covering the two of you now. Her middle finger settled over her clit, tracing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves as she held your gaze.

“Nothing stopping us, baby.” She replied, her eyes speaking louder than her words ever could. She wanted it, and she was asking you if that’s what you truly wanted, too.

You don’t know why, but your eyes fluttered away from hers, unable to withstand the emotion existing between you.

Of course you wanted it, but it was never that easy. She might want it too, but it didn’t make up for the million things that had been left unsaid. It didn’t make up for the sleepless nights and the tears shed, not the pain you endured or the sadness that still plagued you, even with her beside you.

She was asking if you wanted to love her just like that forever, but you were too much of a coward to say yes. You couldn’t handle the thought of agreeing, to telling her the truth only to have it ripped from your grasp again.

“I love you, sunshine.” You whispered, your lips finding her neck again as you held back everything you wanted to say instead. Your statement was true, you loved her deeply and more dearly than you loved anything else in your entire life, and you always would, but you couldn’t promise her forever if you did not know the tellings of her heart, too.

Enjoy the moment, worry later.

“I love you, Jake.” She whined, desperate for you to kiss her again. In an instant, at the sound of the sweet words, the turmoil disappeared, replaced with a growing sense of pride in your chest to be loved by someone so fantastic.

That was the danger of letting her in; she took the pain away with little effort, and caused a million times more when she inevitably turned and walked away.

“Cum for me, sunshine.” You pleaded, your voice hushed and your words muffled from your lips still pressed against her skin. You were eager for her to reach her climax, and worried that if she did not do so soon, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself back.

You could feel how close she was, the flutter of her walls around you, pulling you in further. You could hear the desperation in her tone, her moans shaky and breathy, always a clear sign that she was close to the edge. She wanted to, she just needed a little extra encouragement.

“Come on, sweetheart. Being so good for me.” You whispered, your tongue tracing the love bites still littering her skin. She tasted sweet, lingering on your tongue like poison as you succumbed to the sickness of loving her. She continued tracing circles into her clit, pushing herself closer to the edge as she leaned her head back against you for support. You loosened your grip on her thigh, hooking your arm underneath her leg and pulling her back on you as you slammed forward into her.

The laziness in both of your actions was apparent, but it made the moment all the more addicting as you relied on each other to keep up the pace. You let your lips trail down to her shoulder, your teeth gently sinking into the flesh as you applied slight pressure, just enough for her to notice. The sensation sent her spiraling, your name falling from her lips like a hymn, praising you when she was the one who deserved the commendation.

“Fuck, baby.” She whimpered, her body trembling as the pleasure became too much to withstand. With a long slur of curses, you felt her descend into the cloud of euphoria, continuing to sing your name and only ever causing you to fall further for her.

Before the night prior, you did not think it was possible to love her any more than you already did, but she seemed determined to prove you wrong with every passing chance.

“That’s my girl.” You groaned, a pathetic little cry falling from your lips as you felt the same feeling wash over you.

You did not care if the title was fleeting, because there in that moment, she was yours, and you had to appreciate what you had rather than mourn a potential loss in the future.

You pulled her down on you, letting her completely surround you as you spilled your release into her. Her perfume hung like a haze around your head, the ends of her still curled hair tickling your skin and the warmth of her body giving you more comfort than ever before. Together, the two of you rode out the high breathless and happy just to coexist together again.

You wondered, even if this moment must come to pass, why could life not be so beautiful all of the time?

As you relaxed into the mattress, you noticed she did too, searching for the comfort she could only find in your arms. You eased your hold on her leg entirely, gently letting it fall without withdrawing from her. You snaked your arm around her torso, pulling her closer to you as you soaked up the last few minutes of intimacy the scene would allow.

“That’s a great way to start the morning, I think.” She hummed, her eyes closed as she rested her head on the pillow. She wasn’t protesting your prolonged stay in the position, because she was enjoying it just as much as you were.

“The best, actually.” You corrected, dusting a few kisses over her warm skin. It was torture loving her so completely, because no matter if she was yours forever, life would not allow you to hold her like this every minute of every day.

‘Making love with you

Has left me peaceful, warm, and tired

What more could I ask

There’s nothing left to be desired

Peace came upon me and it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep.’

“This feels the same as it did before.” She whispered, her tone low and slow like she was fighting a slumber with all of her energy. She didn’t want to succumb to sleep, terrified of missing out on a single second of your company. “I thought… I thought it would be different, I guess. That because we’re different, it wouldn’t be the same anymore. I was worried that we would wake up and realize it wasn’t real, that we only felt this way because we never had enough closure to move on.” She was strung out from the pleasure, still riding an emotional high as she confessed to her own fears.

“It’s always been real, sunshine.” You assured her, tracing shapes into her skin as you held her. “Always wanted to be with you.” You muttered, slightly ashamed of the undying love you always carried for her. You were tired too, your eyes heavy as the world continued to wake. Sleeping away the day with her by your side was tempting, and you would have fallen victim to the peacefulness of her presence if you were less stubborn.

“I guess there’s just so much… shit we never talked about.” She trailed off, losing her confidence the longer she thought about it. “From back then and now.” She wanted to talk too, wallowing in confusion and self doubt just as heavily as you were and nearly drowning in the sorrow that still surrounded her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, hoping that she did so you could air out your own relentless thoughts.

“Yeah, I do.” Her tone was near solemn, the sound making your stomach sink and regret begin to form. If she didn’t want the same thing, would you spend the rest of your life regretting asking the damned question?

“Okay.” Your voice was soft as you bargained with the anxiety beginning to take over. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad—maybe she was afraid of all the same things and desperate to hear you assure her otherwise.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up, okay?” She asked, looking back over her shoulder. The breath was knocked from your lungs at the sight of her sleepy eyes and blushed cheeks, making you wonder if you would see it again in the morning, or waste your day trying to forget about it.

“Okay.” You repeated your earlier words, finding that the easiest thing to say when dread was crushing you. Then, she leaned back a little further, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. Your fingers tightened on her, the action alone prompting a sudden wave of relief that seemed to cure all of your earlier ailments. When she pulled away, the smile turning the corners of your lips helped you to relax, forcing you to believe that the conversation wouldn’t be nearly as bad as you thought it would be.

Carefully, she climbed from the bed and quickly disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling as your heart continued to speed against your chest. The ghost of her kiss still lingered on your lips, the feeling electrifying as you desperately tried to find some common sense and calm yourself. You reached for your phone on the nightstand beside the bed, tapping the screen to catch a glimpse of the time. It was nearing the afternoon, the entire morning spent in a bubble of love and joy that nothing could penetrate. You didn’t care about the time wasted laying in bed, because when you were beside her, no time felt wasted.

You ignored the plethora of notifications sitting below the time, tossing it back down on the mattress just as the bathroom door creaked open. You shot a smile in her direction as she approached the bed, taking an extra second to admire the entire picture before you. Her cheeks darkened as she realized what you were doing, and instead of taunting her for her embarrassment, you climbed out of bed and landed a gentle smack on her ass as you passed her by. Light, playful, confident. The more normal you made this seem, the more likely she would be to go into the conversation with a clear head and an open mind.

“My turn. Be right back.” You looked back over your shoulder, watching her pull your shirt over her arms from the night prior, buttoning a few buttons to keep it closed.

That was a good sign, right? Wearing your clothes, climbing back into your hotel bed, a smile on her face and joy still shining in her eyes. She wanted to make it work, just like you did. She loved you, still after all this time. It had to be a good sign.

Right?

Her POV

You watched as he walked around the corner, holding your breath as the bathroom door fell shut behind him. You felt like your head was going to explode, your entire body vibrating with nerves as you climbed under the still warm blankets. You had no idea what you were doing, no idea where the conversation would lead you, but for the first time in six years, you felt happy. Pure, uninhibited joy that could not even be overshadowed by your own dramatics. You wanted him—you never stopped wanting him, and you were going to tell him. You were going to tell him how sorry you were, how terrible it was to be without him, and hope so desperately and deeply that he would be willing to give you a second chance.

He wanted it too, right?

Right?

He was so loving, so attentive and kind as he planned such a thoughtful date, down to every last detail. He had to want it too, and for once you didn’t think you made it up in your own head, that the hope was correct rather than misplaced this time. He had to want it too, because you couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting your apologies and sending you away.

He was withdrawn during sex, and it didn’t take long to notice. You knew him better than you knew yourself, even if you’d spent so much time apart. What was he thinking about? Was he not enjoying himself? Was he regretting it?

You were working yourself up, your heart aching and your stomach sick as you thought of all the possibilities of what could happen next. You were trembling, vibrating with anxieties. The feeling was grating, irritating as it—no, it wasn’t you.

It was his damned phone beside you in the bed, vibrating nonstop with incoming messages, so constant and steady that you had convinced yourself it was something else.

What the fuck—who the fuck was blowing up his phone?

It wasn’t your business. You knew that, and you tried to distract yourself so you could ignore the temptation. If he had something to hide, he never would have shared his screen on the FaceTime calls, nor would he have left his phone sitting so openly and invitingly on the bed for you to see.

But who the hell was messaging him? Who needed to get through to him so imminently on his days off?

Just a peek, you bargained. Just to assure yourself it was Josh being his normally overbearing and invasive self.

Just a peek.

What could it hurt, right?

Right?

You reached over, slowly grabbing his phone and bringing it closer to your face. You tapped the screen, immediately noticing the surplus of notifications. It wasn’t just from one person, but rather a flood of emails and texts combined. A momentary sense of relief washed over you, but you couldn’t pry yourself away even with the reassurance it wasn’t a secret girlfriend. Instead, your eyes scanned the words that you could read, seeing a lot of rescheduled meetings and chains from what looked to be labels and managers.

Wait, rescheduled?

You looked a little further, your stomach dropping when you gathered the main idea from the surplus of messages.

He had moved his entire life around, canceling meetings and rescheduling interviews that were supposed to be done today, yesterday, and the day before that.

He put his entire life on pause for you.

What should have been a sweet realization was instead evil, ugly, and cruel.

Six years later, you were doing the exact thing you were trying to avoid when you left in the first place. You were standing in the way of his career, and he was doing what he always had; putting you before everything else, no matter the consequences. Putting you before himself, before his dreams.

You left to ensure he wouldn’t do that, but you couldn’t stay away and ended up forcing his hand anyway. It was only a few meetings, an interview, but you knew him well and you knew it wouldn’t stop there. With you permanently in Michigan and him halfway across the world, he would only try harder to see you, and it would only get worse from here.

You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t be the very thing that stood in the way of him and his entire life. You wished you found texts from another girl, from a girlfriend or a wife so you could be angry and upset with him for doing such a thing, but that wasn’t who he was, and it never would be. Jake would never let you down, and would do anything he could to make you happy. In doing so, he would sacrifice his own wants and needs, and you couldn’t be responsible for him disregarding everything he’d worked for his entire life.

God, he made it so unbelievably hard to stay out of love with him, even if you knew it was for the best.

Just as you were about to put the phone down, to bargain with your foggy mind and hurting heart, another chain of texts pulled your attention back in.

Amelie - 11:48am

Here’s that sneak peek you asked for. Saving the best for when you get back, so don’t even bother. 😉

*Attachment: 4 images*

“God, what the fuck does that mean?” You whispered to yourself, tossing the phone back on the mattress without even looking at the preview of the pictures as you tried to swallow back the panic you were feeling. It seemed like the world was mocking you for believing the two of you could be together, mocking you for believing that you could have someone as perfect as him.

Who was she, and what did she mean she was saving the best for when he got back? Why had he never mentioned her? Was she a girl he was trying to keep secret? She was close enough to him to have his phone number, comfortable enough to text him on his days off, and cheeky enough to send a winking emoji of follow. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew you didn’t like it.

Your mind was a mess, your chest aching and your head spinning. The message in itself wasn’t exactly incriminating, but you were so caught up in your own emotions from earlier that you wanted to believe it was, so your justification for running wasn’t because he loved you too much. You were jumping to conclusions, desperately grasping at strings to pull together an excuse to leave, but it had nothing to do with him rescheduling his meetings and the oddly worded message from the mysterious ‘Amelie’ (who sounded like a woman you could not even begin to compete with). It had everything to do with your own fear and your inability to see the brighter side of things.

You were doing everything you could to avoid getting hurt, and right now, you were already hurting. Instead of owning up to it and getting to the bottom of it with him by your side, you began to shut out the possibility of loving him in hopes of stopping the hurt before it grew any larger.

Caught up in a whirlwind of grief and a surplus of love, you did not even have time to straighten our separate the two before Jake stepped out of the bathroom, naked and beautiful as ever as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from his suitcase. He slipped them on, his eyes trailing to you, expecting to see the smile he’d left on your lips when he walked away. Instead, he was met with an expression that told him nothing good, his palms breaking into a sweat and his stomach tied in knots as he tried to decipher the look in your eyes.

He had seen the look once before, and he spent the equivalent to a hundred lifetimes trying to rid the memory from his brain. He was praying it was different this time, that he had it completely misunderstood.

“Sunshine,” he warned, cautiously approaching the bed as he tried to defuse the bomb he knew was waiting to explode.

Afraid.

That was the only thing you were, feeling it so violently and aggressively as you shied away from his outstretched arms, silently pleading with you to reconsider. You were afraid of being hurt, afraid of hurting him, afraid of holding him back and standing in his way. You were terrified of everything, and most of all, unable to comprehend how dearly you loved him. You longed to be a teacher, spent years with your nose buried in a book and working so hard to get a degree so you could help someone else understand better. Not knowing was hard, and not understanding something was your biggest downfall, because you had made a life out of facts and working constantly to make sense of challenging things.

This didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t make it appear clearer. The longer you thought about it, the more confused you became, and it was killing you.

You pulled your legs to your chest, feeling tears shine in your eyes as you looked over his face. He was so beautiful, so perfect and so kind, which is why you had to walk away. He was too good, and you weren’t ever going to be enough. Back then, when you went your separate ways the first time, he took the sacrifice of losing you so you could follow your dreams. You were moving too fast, chasing after a life you couldn’t find in Michigan, and he stepped away to allow you to take the leap without worrying about him.

His actions were valiant, completely selfless and done in an attempt to ensure your happiness, and done without a single care about himself or his own breaking heart.

You had to do the same for him. You couldn’t hold him back or drag him down—he deserved someone in control of their life, certain and calculated with every move they made, stable and fun loving with a carefree spirit, and that would never be you.

Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

“Don’t do this. Not yet.” He sat on the edge of the bed, knowing what you were thinking before you said a word. “Let’s talk about it, please. We have to talk about it.” He was right, but you didn’t want to. The longer you talked about it, the worse it felt. You didn’t talk to him last time because it hurt too bad, and right now as you stared at him, facing the same situation as you did when you were eighteen, you understood that leaving Jake would always be the hardest thing you could ever do.

“This was a mistake, Jake.” You blurted out, immediately realizing the extent of your words when a pained expression crossed his beautiful face. You never wanted to be the reason behind his pain, and in that moment, you knew you were causing all of it.

“A mistake, huh?” He raised his hand to his face, his thumb and forefinger closing around his cheeks as his palm pressed against his chin. Deep in thought and clearly bothered by your choice of words, he could no longer look you in the eyes. “You said you loved me.” There was a slight snide drawl in his words, like he was fighting every part of himself so he would not respond with the hurt he was feeling.

“No, Jake, that’s not—“ you cut yourself off, feeling your chest tighten with panic as you raised your hand to his arm. The gentle touch pulled him out of his internal brooding for long enough to look back in your direction, to see how much hurt you were suffering from too. “You are not a mistake. Loving you is not a mistake, and I do. I love you so much that it hurts, and I could never feel this way about anyone else. I don’t want to love anyone else, Jake.”

“Then what is it?” He asked, reaching out and cupping your cheek in his palm. His stare was overwhelming, so much emotion in his gaze that you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “If you love me, and you don’t want to love anyone else, why are you trying to leave?”

“I just…” you started, losing your composure as the million reasons flooded your mind. Your voice cracked, your eyes falling to the pristine threads on the comforter as they welled with tears. “Six years, and nothing changed. We’re still in the same situation, trying to love each other and knowing it won’t work.”

“Who’s saying it won’t work, sunshine? I would do anything to make it work—“

“That’s the problem, Jake!” You cut him off, closing your eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling. “Anything. You would do anything, even if it meant throwing the rest of your life away!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He argued, his temper growing as you continued to raise your voice at him.

“Did you really have all this time off, with nothing to do? No meetings, no interviews, nothing to attend to?” You asked, watching his face as his expression faltered ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it answered your question without him having to say a word. “You moved your entire life around just to come and take me to dinner, Jake. Without a promise of anything, without even knowing if I would say yes. If we keep this up, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to get in the way of everything you worked so hard for.”

“You’re not getting in the way of anything, sunshine. I chose to do that. I wanted to do it.” He tried to get you to see his point, to get you to understand that it wasn’t you forcing his hand on the matter.

“That’s the problem, bug.” Your cheeks were damp as you drowned in your own sorrow. “You would give up everything, just like you would have back then. That’s why I had to go. I had to leave so you wouldn’t waste your life chasing after me. Look at what you’ve accomplished since I left. Look at the life you built, all on your own.” You pleaded with him, begging him to see reason. “I’m going to take away from that, distract you from the only thing you’ve ever wanted. I can’t be responsible for that.”

“It’s not the only thing I’ve ever wanted!” He snapped, stronger than he intended to. Still, he continued on, desperate to be heard after six years of silence. “You are the only thing I’ve ever wanted. You are the only thing that’s ever mattered. You sat and listened to me talk about this life, encouraging me to chase after it, made me believe I could do it. It means fuckin’ nothing without you there beside me.”

“Jake, listen to yourself.” You cried, your head pounding and your chest tight as you tried to draw in a shaky breath. “You stepped back, you took that burden when I left and tried to make a name for myself. You didn’t want to stand in my way, and now you have to let me do it for you. I’m the one stuck in Michigan, not knowing what I’m doing or where I’m going. It won’t work, and you know it.”

“Don’t use that against me, Y/N.” The lack of a nickname was like a stab straight to the stomach, making you understand that this was more serious than it was when you were kids, because you were still hurting from it. It was all coming out at once, the fear and the anger and the regret. It was mixing together with your current situation, making for a deadly conversation that the two of you would carry with you for the rest of your lives. “Don’t use that as an excuse to leave now, because it’s the stupidest thing I have ever done. I’ve spent six years regretting it, Y/N. Do not make it seem like it was some courageous sacrifice—it was stupid and wrong, because I was afraid and I was hurt.”

“Jake—“

“No.” He cut you off, calm and collected with a grievous look in his eye. “I let you leave. I didn’t fight for you. I was eighteen and stupid, and I thought it was for the best at the time, and I know now that it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. I am not letting you leave without fighting for you, Y/N. I’m not losing you again. I waited this long to get you back. This can’t be it. I won’t let this be it.”

“You think I don’t regret it?” You exploded, overwhelmed with the memory of the last time you saw him. “You think I enjoyed driving away, watching you sit at the end of my driveway waving goodbye with tears in your eyes? I didn’t want to, Jake. I hated it, and I hated myself for it. I cried that whole fucking drive, and then three days later I had to tell you to stop texting me because it only ever made it harder to move on. Guess it never would have mattered, because I never did, anyway! Six years later I sat in that bedroom, sorting through that box that held memories from the best three years of my entire life, and I had to swallow the fact that it will always be you, even if I don’t want it to be!” A grimace crossed his face, his heart aching at the harshness of your words.

“I hated looking for you in every man I’ve ever met, wondering if they could even come close to the boy I left at home. I hated staying up at night, listening to the same eight songs and wondering why we couldn’t be the ones who ended up together. I hated coming home and back to that house, just to realize that you were the only thing that made it feel like home in the first place! You weren’t here Jake, you moved to Nashville and you were traveling Europe, touring the world and playing music for thousands of people. You made it without me, and I drowned without you. I ended up here, back in the house I swore I’d never live in again in a town that’s missing the only good thing it ever had. You made it, Jake. You did it, and I will not drag you down again. I love you too much to hold you back. You have to let me do this for you, because you’ve done everything for me!” You finished your rant, barely able to see straight from the tears blurring your vision. Your throat was raw, your voice shaking as you tried your hardest to keep it together for long enough to make him understand.

“Sunshine,” he took your face between his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “This isn’t doing anything for me. You leaving isn’t helping me, and staying won’t hurt me. Loving you is the only thing that I know how to do, and the only thing that I need. You give me everything just by being here.”

“Baby, please.” You closed your eyes, the pain in your chest only worsening as you stared at him.

“No, Sunshine.” He shook his head, holding your face tightly so you couldn’t look away. “Please, don’t do this. I just got you back.”

“Jake, I can’t.”

“That’s it?” He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his own eyes. “It’s over? We’re done, just like that?” He tried to blink away the pain, but it only worsened his feelings on the matter. “After everything we talked about over the last few weeks? After everything we said last night? That’s it?”

“No!” You cried, shaking your head against his hold. “I guess so? I don’t know, Jake! I don’t know what to do or how to make it better. I'm trying to do the right thing. This happened so fast, and I didn’t have any time to think about it, but now that I have, we both know it won’t work! You’re going back to Nashville and I’m stuck here. You’re going to travel the world and meet so many people, ones that are way better than me and have so much more to offer. I'm going to tie you down and hold you back, and you’re going to realize it too, and I can’t get hurt like that. Not again.” You bit down on your lip to stifle the sobs begging to escape.

“You don’t get it, sunshine. There is nobody else; only you, and it’s always been that way.” There was a quiver in his voice, his cheeks wet with his own tears and he pleaded with you to see reason.

“I have to, Jake. I don’t even know if this is where I’ll stay. I could be halfway across the country again by this time next year. I don’t know, and I can’t force you to change everything because I’m still a mess.”

“I want to, sunshine. I love you.” He whispered, breaking under the weight of his grief. You shook your head again, too overcome with emotion to speak but still as stubborn as you’d always been. “I can’t lose you again.”

“Just not right now Jake. I’m not saying never, but not now.”

The words were worse than a slap in the face, making him choke on the fact that you would never be his, but he would always be stuck on your hook with nowhere else to go.

“So what, friends?” He scoffed at the word as if it were ridiculous, scowling as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Yes.” You whispered, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. “I want you in my life Jake. I always have. It’s horrible without you here, but the time still isn’t right. I need to get my life figured out. Give me some time to be what you deserve.” He watched you, his eyes casted down upon your saddened face as he digested the words he never wanted to hear again.

How, after so long and so much suffering, could the time still not be right? How could you still not see it?

But, he loved you, and in that moment it seemed like the worst curse of all. He was willing to do whatever would make you happy, even if it meant agreeing to something that would be equal to torture.

“Fine, sunshine.” He breathed, unable to resist you with you so close to him. He could never say no to you, anyway, no matter the distance. “If that’s what you think is right, I’ll be your friend, but I’ll never stop telling you how wrong I think it is.” A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain begging to kill you.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You joked, tears still free falling as you breathed him in for what might be the very last time.

“I’m going to suck at being your friend.” He warned, still holding you close while he still could. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

“I’m not going to stop, either.” You promised.

“Which is why this whole thing is stupid.” He tried again, desperate for you to understand.

“You’ll understand, bug. Maybe not right now, but you will. I promise.” You whispered, fighting every urge to kiss him.

“If you say so, sunshine.” He muttered, too far gone within his misery to worry about hiding it anymore. “Can I kiss you, one last time?”

“I might not be able to stop.” You confessed, feeling the gravitational pull forcing you towards him, the universe doing everything it could to force you into his arms forever.

“Could think of worse things.” He hummed, his hand sliding backwards as his fingers tangled in your hair.

“Me too, bug.” You whispered, closing your eyes and leaning forward.

You closed the gap between you, the kiss soft and sweet, the saltiness of your tears lingering on your lips as you did all you could to savor the moment with him. He dropped one hand to your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap without parting from you. You accepted the new position, melting into his arms and letting your guard down one last time. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and you wondered how you could ever give up the feeling of peace that came with his company. He felt like home, more comforting and inviting than anything else in the entire world, and you wished you could hold onto it forever.

Eventually, you broke free from the kiss, but made no move to leave. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder as another, more aggressive wave of sobs racked your body. The smell of his cologne surrounded you, his gentle hold comforting despite knowing it would be the last time you had him in such a way. He always made everything feel better, even if the hurt came from the love he gave in the first place. He held you tightly, his strong arms making it harder to convince yourself to leave. You calmed down enough to rest comfortably with him, only the occasional tear leaking from your eye as he rocked you gently to calm your mind. Then, so softly and so quietly, you heard the soft melody that tore your heart in two all over again.

He was humming, not singing, but carrying the tune enough that you would notice and understand why he was doing it.

There were no lyrics, but you could hear them clearly in your head as you clung to him and wondered why you would ever even think about letting him go.

‘Peace came upon me

And it leaves me weak

So sleep, silent angel

Go to sleep

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you

Sometimes, all I need is the air that I breathe

And to love you.’

His shoulders shook as he tried his hardest to keep the tune, tears falling down his face as he did his best not to imagine you walking out the door. You felt ridiculous, completely idiotic as you cried and listened to him, wondering how the hell you were in the same position now as you were when you were eighteen. Back then, he put the song on the mixtape to tell you how dearly he loved you, so you could hear it from someone else’s tongue instead of his own. Now, he reinvented the song with a heart just as heavy, hoping it was enough to make you stay this time.

There was no need to retell the story, to recount all of the mistakes you made that led you to the fourth song so long ago, because you had done it just the same that day. You woke up that morning with love delicately intertwined in every aspect of your life, happiest with him by your side, and you would leave him behind with the same love in your heart, just the same as you did six years ago.

When you were eighteen, he loved you. He sat before you at twenty-five, still as desperate to show you how strongly he felt, but you still weren’t ready to receive it. You loved him the same, but you were too foolish to accept it and too fearful of enduring the same hurt. Instead, you convinced yourself that it was for the best to walk away, that the pain now would spare you from worse in the future, even if it wasn’t true.

No matter the time in between the two stupidest versions of yourself, one thing remained true even after all of the pain and all of the years; you loved him the same, just as unapologetically, completely and as wholly as he loved you.

All you needed was the air that you breathed and to love him. Sometimes, you didn’t even need the air and could survive solely off the latter. You spent all your life searching for him, wandering aimlessly while he was gone and wondering when he would come back, just to find the quickest way to throw the opportunity in the garbage as soon as it presented itself to you.

Why were you so eager to walk away when you had been awaiting the day he would return?

Why were you so keen to suffer when he was right in front of you, promising to make it all better?

Worst of all, why, if it was supposed to be the right thing to do, did it hurt so fucking bad?

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon @gvfmarge @takenbythemadness

[gravehags]

girls night in the ghouls den. You’re painting each others nails and doing each others hair and giggling and gossiping. And when you shyly admit to cirrus that you’ve never been able to cum before, well, how can she not take that as a challenge.

Lars i was not expecting to write this much but i was Inspired. Enjoy 😌

Pairing: Cirrus x F!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT MDNI

Words: fuck knows

Tags: making out, titty sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, possessiveness

~~~

“You what?”

Cirrus’ incredulous voice cuts through the room and the sound of Chappell Roan singing that comes from the portable speaker. You’re blushing, ears uncomfortably red, and you pick idly at the dried nail polish that messily got on your fingers. When Cirrus brings a finger under your chin to tilt your gaze back up to her, butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“I’ve…I’ve never cum.”

“Not…not even when you—?”

“Especially not then. I don’t know, my head has never been in the right space. Never felt good or…well, right.”

You’re violently embarrassed - even more so from the way she’s looking at you right now with such pity. But in a flash, the pity morphs into something…different. Something shiny and hungry and your heartbeat quickens as you watch the pink tip of her tongue slide out to wet her lips.

“I could do it,” she says, straightening her shoulders with confidence, “if that uh…interests you.”

If that interests you? You’ve only been pining for the tall ghoulette for months now, aching to turn these girl’s nights you’ve been having into something more. Suddenly your mind is flooded with images of lips and tongues, deft fingers, and warm giggles. Somehow your flush deepens, spreading across your chest and Cirrus’ sharp gaze follows its path.

“Y-yeah. I’d like that. Please.”

The final word is barely out of your mouth and she’s already crawling towards you on her hands and knees.

“Lie down and get comfortable,” Cirrus murmurs, the red wine on her breath ghosting over your lips. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” you ask softly as you lean back onto the pile of pillows. She straddles you in a heartbeat and runs a painted claw down the side of your cheek.

“But first I gotta warm you up,” Cirrus leans down and brushes her lips over your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, “Nice and slow. I want you dripping for me.”

Your gasp is cut off when she slides her lips against yours, and feeling bold, you thread your hand through her dark hair and pull her close. It doesn’t take long before you feel Cirrus’ hot tongue seeking entrance which you eagerly grant. As your tongues and teeth meet, Cirrus drags a lazy hand up your torso and slowly pries the strap of your tank top down, along with the front of the shirt. When she pulls back to look at your exposed breasts you whine at the loss of her mouth. Idly she thumbs over your nipple, stiffening it before giving it a playful sharp pinch. You yelp slightly, hips bucking against her and she smiles before returning to your mouth once more. As your kisses get wetter, deeper, hungrier Cirrus continues to toy with your hardened nipple, cupping and squeezing the weight of your breast in her palm. When you whimper against her mouth and nudge her nose with yours she laughs - low and sultry.

"Gotta tell me what you want, angel," she teases, pulling back. She doesn't know why it took the two of you this long to get here but fuck she's happy you made it. Your pupils are blown and your lips swollen as you look up at her with adoration.

“S-suck,”

Cirrus tsks, knowing you can do better than that. With a shaky exhale you let out a low whine.

“Suck my tits, please.”

Cirrus coos at you, her sweet girl who knows how to ask so nicely even without being told. When her mouth descends on your breast she brings her lips together and blows a stream of cold air on the bud. The result is well worth it from the gasp that comes out of you and the tight little circles your hips make against her. When she flicks her tongue against you, you whine once more, hand returning to its place buried in her hair. Delightedly she takes your nipple into her hot mouth and sucks, smiling against your soft skin when you breathe her name like a prayer. Cirrus continues to lave her tongue along your breasts, running the muscle over every bump and valley. She could do this for hours - part of her is curious if she can make you cum just from this - but her mouth isn’t quite where she wants to be yet. When she pulls away from your chest - delightfully swollen from her ministrations - you very nearly cry out.

“Easy, angel,” Cirrus purrs, sliding down to place a kiss on the curve of your belly, “plenty of time for that later. I got a job to do, remember?”

“Mmmm, please Cir. Want to feel you.”

With a throb from between her own thighs, Cirrus regrets not having her strap on her right now so she could stuff you full of her. Instead she contents herself with sliding your sleep shorts and underwear off your hips and down your legs. When you’re finally exposed you slowly spread your legs for her, delighting in the way the ghoulette’s gaze darkens at the sight of you. Pretty little curls on a thick mound and below that…Cirrus gently reaches down to spread you apart and when your slick begins to drip on the carpet below you she nearly goes feral.

“Hmm,” she says, settling between your legs and pressing sweet little open-mouth kisses to the inside of your thigh, “Pretty.”

“Yeah?” you breathe, and she can hear the smile on your face.

“Mmhmm,” she murmurs while nosing the curls, “all pretty and pink and sopping wet just for me.”

You make a noise somewhere in between a laugh of incredulity and a moan and when she spreads you open and slowly drags her tongue through your folds, you cry out.

“Fuck, Cir!”

Cirrus places a kiss to your mound and looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Only just getting started, angel.”

Before you can say anything else she’s on you, tongue splitting you open. She doesn’t touch your clit - not right away - instead content to tease at its hood while you twist in her grip. Briefly, she abandons it and slides down to your entrance where your slick accumulates for her pleasure. When she abruptly slides her tongue into your entrance, you shout her name. Slowly she begins to fuck you with her tongue as her fingers put a bruising grip on your hips.

“So good, Cirrus, fuck.”

She chuckles against your cunt and the vibrations make your hips buck sharply against her. Cirrus pulls away but brings a finger to your hole to tease at it as she looks up at you.

“Think I can do more than make you cum, babygirl,” she muses as she toys with your cunt, “think I can do much better than that.”

“Yeah?” you’re desperately trying to regain your composure but as Cirrus’ long finger begins to slide into you your voice wavers.

“Think I’ll ruin you,” Cirrus says simply, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Think when I’m done with you no one’s fingers, tongue, strap, or cock will be good enough for you.”

You laugh, high pitched and exaltant, and look down at the ghoulette between your legs. Her hair is mussed, her eyes wild and for a thrilling moment you’re almost scared of her. You know, in this moment, that this infernal creature can and will absolutely devastate you. You barely even notice that she’s slipped a second finger inside you and buried them knuckle-deep until her stare makes you clench around her. Cirrus grins, wide and sharp at that as she slowly begins pistoning the digits in and out of you. The noises coming from your cunt are lewd and delightful, causing Cirrus to chuckle as you writhe under her touch. Suddenly, she lowers her lips back to you and when she circles and sucks your clit into her mouth, you buck against her hand taking her even deeper.

“That’s it, angel,” Cirrus breathes, watching you slowly come undone beneath her touch. “You’re doing so well. I think you can take three now, hmm?”

Your nod is frantic, back arched and hips grinding into her. When she slips a third long finger into your cunt, the stretch is delicious. She returns to your clit and with a smooth gesture, crooks her fingers inside of you to brush against that sweet spongy spot. Little lights dance in your vision as she ruthlessly sucks at your clit and massages that spot inside you. You can feel something coming, feel the pressure in your hips that slides off your spine and tightens your muscles. The pace at which her fingers and mouth move are unreal, determined to get you off. And get you off she does. With a high pitched, mounting moan your hips twitch violently against her mouth, your cries echoing in the small living room. You feel as if your heart and lungs are going to burst forth from your ribcage as wave after wave of warm pleasure crashes down upon you. You’re not sure how long it takes you to come back into your body by when you do, Cirrus is still between your legs grinning like a cat that got the canary. All of a sudden you’re aware of the sopping wet warmth that has settled in between your legs and how much of it is on Cirrus’ beautiful face.

“I…I did that?”

Cirrus laughs, high and sweet, as she licks her fingers clean one by one.

“You sure did, baby. Such a good girl, squirting for me and everything. I told you I’d do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, flopping back down onto the pillows. Abandoning the space in between your legs she joins you up top and regards you with a smug, yet fond, grin.

“Cirrus…that was…”

“Hmm?”

“Wow. I’d let you keep me as a pet if it meant I got that out of it.”

The words come out of your mouth before you realize what you’re actually saying and Cirrus pulls back to look at you.

“Don’t say that, little lamb,” she breathes, hand ghosting over the curves of your body. “Don’t get my hopes up like that.”

“Get your hopes up like what?” you ask, eyes trained on the ceiling, “I meant it.”

It takes Cirrus two minutes to stand and scoop you up in her arms, heading towards the door that leads to the ghouls’ bedrooms.

“Hope you don’t have anything planned the next few days,” Cirrus says conversationally as she takes you down the hallway to her door, “because I have no intention of letting you leave.”

When she tosses you on her bed, a shriek of delight squeaks out of you.

Fuck, you loved girl’s night.

[jobean12-blog]

Heart of a Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Werewolf!Bucky)

Word Count: 746

Summary: Life without Bucky is unbearable but when he somehow returns to you, changed but the same, you hold on to all hope that it's more than just a dream.

Author's Note: Just needed to get this out and I love werewolf!bucky. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you sweet Daisy🥰

Warnings: angsty beginning, mentions of grief, there is a lot of softness and love too

In the stillness of the night you lie awake. The shadows cast by the moon dance along the bare walls while the whispers of the wind linger. The darkness envelopes you, echoing the emptiness you feel inside. The only sound you hear is that of your own heartbeat, a slow and rhythmic reminder of what he left behind.

The world itself feels withdrawn and you’re left alone with the weight of your grief. Your tired mind plays tricks on you. The dimly lit corners of your perception hold illusions of color…blue like the ocean. Somewhere, deep down, you know these visions are mere remnants of your longing for a love lost.

The night, once shared in whispered promises and soft touches, has transformed into a vast void of emptiness and heartache. The profound silence is punctuated only by the ache you feel but you grasp at the fleeting solace found in the illusionary glimpses of his presence.

As the night deepens and your sorrow crushes you nearly to dust, you whisper his name, one last attempt, one last plea.

Silence.

But just as you close your eyes to succumb to the nightmare, the air thickens with an otherworldly energy, it’s presence felt in every corner of the room. It settles into your bones, warm and familiar.

The shadows stir, the darkness parting for something even stronger, something filled with a love and longing that transcends all else, even fear.

Your heart beats with new life and you search in the darkness, hope filling your soul.

“Bucky?”

“I have missed you more than life itself,” he whispers, emerging from the dark.

His eyes, though somehow more beautiful than before, still carry the same depth of emotion that connects your souls. His voice, a whisper that both resonates with the echoes of the past and the enchantment of the present, beckons you.

He extends his hand, a silent invitation that holds the promise of things you cannot begin to fathom but still somehow understand.

You rush to him, clinging to the softness of his skin and the hardness of muscle that ripples beneath. He captures you in his embrace, his hands wandering with a reverence over the curves he once cherished and finding new life in every touch.

“Bucky,” you cry, burying your face in his neck and combing your fingers through his long, dark hair.

His lips ghost along your jaw as he cups your chin and breathes you in.

“I have done everything to come back to you,” he murmurs before his lips brush yours. “And here you are. Waiting.”

“I’ve waited every night since,” you say softly.

His long fingers caress your skin and he draws your closer, pressing his lips to yours.

As the feel and taste of you consumes his senses he comes alive, his desire for you unbridled in its release.

Your name falls from his lips as his body begins to contort and shift. Fur grows like dark, silken threads, soft and lustrous in the moonlight. Bones groan and creak until he towers above you, his sharp teeth gleaming as his snout twitches with his deep breaths.

With a gasp you take an unsteady step back. He does nothing to hinder your retreat but you can see his long, sharp claws twitch at his sides.

“What happ…?” you start, choking on any other words.

With trembling lips you study him, some of your surprise and fear dissipating as he holds you captive with his gaze, one still familiar but filled with vulnerability and love.

“I made a choice,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “One I knew would bring me back to you.”

Your fingers reach out, delicate and unsure.

“Bucky.”

His whispered name holds finality and when your fingertips touch his fur your eyelashes flutter and your breath rushes out.

“Doll,” he breathes out, his own eyes closing as he gathers you against him, the tension in his body melting away.

The feeling of warmth and safety envelopes you and when you turn your face to his fur his scent is the same.

He bends over you, nuzzling your neck with his snout as he drags it along the delicate curve with a long inhale.

“Every night I’ve dreamed of having you in my arms again,” he hums against your skin.

Your fingers curl into his fur and you burrow closer.

“Please don’t let this be a dream,” you whisper. “If it is, I don’t want to wake up.”  

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @lizette50 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @buckysdollforlife

[kybercrystals94]

Six Weeks

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 22 - Prompts: Bleeding through Bandages // Reopening Wounds

Rated: T (for mentions of injury) | Words: 1391

“You have two choices, captain. You can spend the next six weeks in medical under the careful watch of a medic to make sure you don’t do anything stupid; or, you go home for six weeks and let your brothers make sure you don’t do anything stupid.” 

Omega rolls her eyes. “You forget it was my brothers who taught me most of my ‘stupid’ stunts, Hera.” 

“Maybe,” Hera admits. “However, one look at your injuries, and I have a feeling they’ll become the most insufferable mother nexus you’ve ever seen until you’re cleared for active duty.”

“That’s not a feeling, Hera,” Omega groans, trying to shrug into her jacket with her one good arm, “That’s a kriffing fact. I’m never going to hear the end of it when they find out what happened.” 

“You haven’t told them yet?” Hera gasps, helping Omega thread her injured arm through the other sleeve. 

“Of course not. If I did, they’d be storming the base right now demanding to see me. It’s not like I’m on my deathbed, Hera. I crashed, I survived, I’m fine.”

“Your definition of ‘fine’ needs work.”

Omega slides off the medical cot, favoring her left leg. “I’ll take that into consideration while I’m forced to lie around for a month and a half.” 

“Good.”

As Omega starts to limp out of medical, Hera stops her, pulling her into an embrace, carefully avoiding Omega’s cracked ribs. “I’m so happy you’re alright, Megs.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Omega mutters with a grin. 

Hera laughs. “Don’t give your brothers too much trouble, got it?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

**

On General Syndulla’s orders, Omega is not allowed to fly herself back to Pabu. Instead, she is being transported by a shiny new recruit everyone calls Iggy, for whatever reason. They land in the middle of the planet’s night cycle, Omega directing Iggy to the cave that typically houses her own ship when it isn’t being held hostage by Hera. 

“Need help with your bags, captain,” Iggy asks as Omega pushes herself unsteadily to her feet. 

Omega waves him off. “It’s one bag, and I’ve got it. I’m not a complete invalid.” 

That makes Iggy grin. “Understood, captain.”

Despite protests, Iggy does help her down the ramp and hovers as Omega gets her footing on the uneven cave floor. He tries to convince her to let him walk her up to the house, but Omega insists that she’s fine. She finds one of Batcher’s long pieces of driftwood the hound has a habit of hoarding in the corner. “See, I’ve got a walking stick, I’ll be fine.” 

“If you’re sure,” Iggy relents. He gives a sloppy salute. “See you in six weeks?” 

“Six weeks,” Omega agrees. 

Omega watches him off, leaning heavily on her makeshift cane. Somehow, being so close to her brothers and their anticipated mothering makes her feel less valiant about her wounds. No matter how old she gets, how experienced she becomes, she feels like a child again with her brothers nearby to protect her. 

As she makes her way up the worn path, her injuries make themselves known. The laceration on her thigh pulses under the bandage, her sprained shoulder and elbow ache in her sling, her cracked ribs throb with every intake of air. Maybe she should have let Iggy carry her bag. 

Omega focuses on her surroundings, the familiar sound of nighttime breathing around her, the muted roll of waves on the beach. The scent of fresh air and sea laced with the sweet smell of local flora. How many dark nights did she sit with her brothers, watching the stars and listening to stories? Countless nights leaning against Hunter or Crosshair or Wrecker until she fell asleep to the rumble of their voices, to then be coaxed awake to go to bed. 

When she finally makes it to the back door, she pulls out the key already tucked in her coat pocket, and makes her way inside. She drops her bag by the door, propping her stick next to it, then limps as quietly as she can to the kitchen. She hopes to find leftover supper put away, or, better yet, cookies in the corner cupboard. 

She checks for the cookies first and finds them, plucking the box from the shelf and putting it on the counter before turning to get two cups. Right on time, the kitchen light clicks on, and Omega smiles. 

“Omega?” Hunter asks groggily. 

She doesn’t turn. “Took you long enough,” Omega says lightly. “Hungry? I was just making myself a snack.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?” 

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Did it work?” 

Hunter snorts. “We would’ve waited up for you if we’d known.”

“Exactly,” Omega says, moving to get out the milk, “you old guys need your sleep.” 

She hears Hunter step closer. “Omega, are you injured?” 

“I’ll be alright,” Omega says, but her body betrays her and she nearly stumbles on a side step. 

Hunter catches her bad elbow. 

The pain is immediate, and Omega tries so hard to stifle the cry that reactively comes. It only partially works, the sound escaping like a shrill whine in the back of her throat. 

“What–where are you hurt?” Hunter demands, withdrawing his grip but stepping closer. 

Omega leans against the counter, waiting for the wave of pain to fade. “Uh, that’s not a short list,” she grits out. 

“You need to sit down,” Hunter says. “Did you walk all the way here from the cavern?”

“Yeah, not the wisest decision I’ve ever made,” Omega admits. 

She finally turns around, letting the light expose her visible injuries. She hasn’t looked in a mirror recently; however, she knows must look even more awful than she feels. The look in her brother’s eyes confirms it. 

His expression tightens. “You should be in a medical bay.” 

“Well, it was that or this, and I’d take an opportunity to visit my brothers any day.” Omega lifts her good arm, and Hunter brings it over his shoulder, taking most of Omega’s weight as she hobbles into the common room. Omega is thankful he doesn’t try to carry her. 

Once she’s settled on the couch, Hunter looms over her. “Well, I’d like that long list of injuries now.” 

With a sigh, she gives it to him, doing her best not to gloss over pertinent details. When she gets to the laceration on her leg, Hunter looks down at the bandaging. “Looks like you reopened it with your little hike from the beach,” he says, and Omega glances down. A small bloom of blood stains the careful wrap. 

“Kriff,” Omega curses. 

Hunter massages the bridge of his nose, heaving a lung deep sigh. “I’ll check it over and get it re-wrapped. We’ll send for AZI in the morning.” 

Omega nods, sinking into the worn cushions. “Okay.” 

Hunter stands up, but before he leaves, he rests a hand on Omega’s head, calloused fingers tousling her hair. “It’s good to see you, kid.” 

“You too,” Omega returns softly. 

She knows her brother will take care of her, just like he always has. 

**

Omega wakes to sunlight pouring through her window. Miraculously, neither Wrecker or Crosshair woke up during the night while Hunter redressed her wounds and got her situated in bed. She can’t even remember Hunter turning out the bedroom light before she fell asleep. 

She turns her head and sees an old comm unit on her bedside table, a torn piece of flimsi propped against it. Do not get up. Call if you need anything it says in scrawled letters. Omega rolls her eyes and smiles. 

“Do you think she’s awake?” Wrecker’s version of a whisper practically rattles the door. 

“If she wasn’t, she is now,” Crosshair hisses back. 

Omega’s smile deepens. “I’m awake!” she calls out. 

The door flies open, Wrecker’s exuberant presence filling the room. “Megs! Why didn’t you tell us why you were coming?” he cries. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Omega says, laughing, moving to push herself up on her good elbow.

Crosshair is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. “Liar. You just didn’t want to tell us you crashed a stolen TIE fighter.” 

“It’s a good story, I promise,” Omega assures him. 

The ex-sniper smirks at her. “It better be.”

END

A/N: I actually had a little bit more written for this; so I might add a second part if I get that portion finished ;-;

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[rosesradio]

certified lester papadopoulos / apollo lover here 🌻if it's cool, could i ask for hc's of him falling for a child of hypnos who just,, really likes napping in the sun ?

hii, a fellow hypnos cabinmate !! this isn’t so much an hc list as it is a bullet point fic but i hope you like it 💌

word count: 806

While your Hypnos half-siblings can nap anywhere, they all have a preference for their Camp bunks. They are, after all, the softest, most luxurious beds in all of Camp. They take a lot of pride in all things related to material, thread count, and types of blankets used on a bed.

You, however, are a bit of an odd-one-out. You like your Camp bunk, sure, though the one place you really love to nap is outside.

Your cabinmates are a little appalled, considering you use a single worn blanket and willingly expose yourself to the elements.

(“What about bugs?” They ask, as if there isn’t also the occasional bug inside the cabin.)

You love nothing more than to nap outside. The ground by the strawberry fields is soft, the air sweet and open. It allowed your dreams to wonder even more freely, weaving a tapestry across the world in your subconscious.

Other than the occasional camper calling you weird, no one really pays much mind to your outdoor naps.

Until Lester.

He asks what you’re doing, same as everyone else does, and you tell him. He asks why you’re doing it, and this you answer as well.

“That seems nice,” he says, his voice wistful, missing something. You had seen him around before—the god Apollo, whittled down into this shell of a mortal body. It seemed exhausting; he always seemed to be missing something.

“It is,” you reply, surprised by his interest where others were indifferent. And then, more surprise: “You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

It isn’t that napping in the open air is so much an intimate thing as it is that you’ve always done it alone. That’s why it sparks a little excitement within you when he lays down beside you on your blanket.

Despite saying you were going to nap, the pair of you began talking anyway.

“I can’t control the clouds,” he says, pointing up at one in the shape of a dog. “That’s my father’s domain, but…if I notice a shape I like while in the chariot, I make sure to admire it from afar. That way, the mortals can see it without being blinded by the sun.”

You hum. “That’s…pretty sweet of you.”

“You seem surprised.” You could hear the frown in Lester’s voice, and for some reason his pouting makes you fight back a grin.

“I’m not,” you lie. And then: “Do you miss driving the chariot?”

Lester nods. “More than anything…and I know the other sun gods got it covered and all, but…I was the best at it. I had the best views, and…” his voice faltered. “My memory is really fuzzy, but…I think I remember seeing you on a drive.”

You raise your brows, and the intrigue is enough to make you roll over to face him. “You did?”

“It might’ve been someone else,” Lester says quickly, dismissively, heat rising to his cheeks as he glances at you. He then quickly looks back up at the bright blue sky. “I just remember seeing a figure lying down in the field like this. And I remember thinking, ‘man, I hope that Camper remembered sunscreen’, before I…”

“Before you what?” You ask.

“Drove a little higher. I thought it might keep you—or whoever that was—warm while not burning you…” Lester turns to face you, and while he was about a foot from you on the blanket, he seems thoroughly embarrassed. “Please don’t tell everyone, I don’t want them thinking I’m a softie.”

You laugh, unable to deny the warmth spreading through you, from your chest to your arms and legs, all the way to the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t just coming from the sun.

“It’ll be our secret,” you say. “Thank you, Lester.”

Lester smiles sheepishly. “Y’know, the name doesn’t sound half bad when you say it.”

You return his smile before gazing back up at the bright sky above. You breathe in the fresh air, allowing the warmth of the sun to wash over you like a blanket out of the dryer. One day, at some point, you might thank Lester for what he’d done with the sun—what he will do with the sun, when he gets back to it. You imagine it might get to his head, though, and he might be tempted to write a song about it.

You glance over at Lester, noticing that he’d closed his eyes. You close your eyes as well. The last thing you felt before you fell asleep was the brush of Lester’s hand against yours, and his pinky finger wrapping faintly around your own.

You hope that it was a promise that you’d do this again sometime.