#'Leave nothing left for him to marry. Leave nothing but the skin over my bones' that's Them

[chicago-geniza]

Hello world wide web. Please take a moment to collect your thoughts, gather yourself into the present. Breathe in, breathe out. Now imagine Louis and Lestat watching Moonstruck (1987) together

[vampzwon]

박종성 ✸ — truth hurts !

ⓘ; marrying jay was the best decision of your life— since the very moment you said “yes,” married life with him was an absolute daydream. but of course, with all positives come it’s negatives, and no one ever said married life would be easy, not when two people with two seperate lives and two different personalities merge to one.

﹏ ⌗ 𝓹airing: 𝓅!jongseong x 𝒻!reader ❨4059❩

⏖’ 𝑔enres, angst. fluff. reconciliation. smut.

⊹”mlist.

𝓦arnings: angstangstangst, lack of communication, jays just depressed atp lmao, crying, kissing, proximity 18+ MDNI dry humping

𓏵-, 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒. guys i wrote thus on a road trip wnd i needed to piss SO badly likenit was crazy painful but then i had a nap and then i woke up with this idea so.. yeah. my dreams r in favour of my tumblr career it seems

Jay hated eggs.

Not in a casual “I’d rather not” way—no, it was a bone-deep, soul-level aversion. The smell, the texture, the way the yolk stared up at him like some runny, golden eye. Scrambled, poached, sunny side up—didn’t matter. They all made his skin crawl.

But you, unfortunately, loved them.

Soft-boiled, hard-boiled, over easy—eggs were your go-to comfort food. You’d hum to yourself as you cooked them, barefoot in one of his old shirts, swaying to whatever playlist was humming through the kitchen speaker. You always said there was something hopeful about breakfast, even when the world outside felt unkind. A perfect way to start a perfect day.

He used to tease you for it.

“You’re romanticizing a chicken’s reproductive cycle,” he’d say, scrunching his nose as you giggled, letting him backhug you as you melted into his hold. “Romanticizing or not, it’s all I can make. Now eat.”

He’d grin into your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, pressing a soft kiss just below your ear. “Guess I married you for your looks, then.”

You’d roll your eyes and feed him a bite anyway. He’d grimace like he was in pain, overact dramatically, then chew with a resigned smile—just to make you laugh again.

Perhaps the pain that came with consuming egg left when they were made with your own very hands.

That was the difference, he realized—not the egg, not the seasoning, not even the way you overcooked the yolk just a little because you knew he hated it runny.

It was you.

It was always you.

Something about the way you cracked the shell with that little flick of your wrist, the way your brow furrowed as you tilted the pan with practiced precision—like it mattered. Like he mattered.

He could eat eggs when you made them because they tasted like you’d poured your loving all over him— and that? He could die in it. Live in it. Drown in it.

This morning, the eggs taste of nothing.

Not even disgustingly creamy, or rubbery and stubborn in that way they used to be. They tasted of emptiness, of a space where something should be but painfully wasn’t.

He prodded at it with his fork, staring into the marble of the kitchen counter emptily, the cloth of his work attire suffocatingly tight against his throbbing chest. He looked down at his briefcase, right beside his stool at the counter, and then at the front door, where you hastily tied your shoelaces with nimble fingers.

You used to look at him every morning. Really look at him. With that mischievous grin playing at your lips and that soft, unfiltered way your eyes scanned him up and down like he was the best part of your day.

“You look sexy in a suit, Mr. Park,” you’d say with a mock-whisper, even though no one was around to hear. “If you’re late to work, it’s your fault for looking that good.”

You used to kiss him harder before he left—like goodbye wasn’t just goodbye, it was a promise. A see you later.

You used to always ensure you said bye, refusing to leave until you heard him reply— and now, you left first. Always. Without so much as a glance, without a trace of the warmth that used to cling to your touch.

“Do I still look good in a suit?” He croaked out weakly, under his breath, loud enough for him to hear, but certainly not loud enough for you. You had already left in one fluid motion, the door swinging shut with a soft click that felt louder than any argument you’d ever had.

Jay sat there for a few seconds longer, frozen in the kind of silence that hums in your ears when you’ve just been left behind. He stared at the now-empty entryway, his shoulders slumping with insecurity he didn’t recognise.

He exhaled shakily, one hand tugging at the knot of his tie as if loosening it would somehow help him breathe better.

He sighed into his hands, elbows braced on the edge of his desk as his monitor flickered to life. The screen glowed too bright, the same spreadsheet from yesterday blinking back at him like it had never left.

The same monotony.

Click. Log in. Pretend.

The office buzzed with quiet conversation and the hum of printers. People moving with purpose. Like their lives made sense. Like they’d all kissed their partners goodbye this morning without feeling their heart sink to the floor.

Jay exhaled through his nose, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. He groaned under his breath tiredly, offering his colleague, Minjun, sat beside him a friendly smile. “Morning.” He offered quietly.

Minjun was already halfway through his coffee, chair leaned back just enough to look like he wasn’t trying to work yet. He glanced at Jay and grinned.

“Rough start?” he asked, tapping a few keys before swiveling slightly in his chair. “You look like you barely slept.”

Jay huffed a laugh through his nose, scratching the side of his jaw absently. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Minjun nodded, like he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t.

“How’s the missus?” he asked, casually—like it was a question about the weather. Like it wasn’t a dagger to the gut.

Jay hesitated.

His smile faltered just a little.

He looked down at the wedding band on his finger—still there. Still shining under the fluorescents. Still supposed to mean something.

“She’s…” he started, then trailed off. He cleared his throat. “She’s busy. Work’s been crazy.”

Minjun nodded like that explained everything. “Yeah, my girl’s been swamped too. Gotta love being married to a working, bossy woman, huh?”

Jay forced a chuckle. “Yeah.”

Minjun merely nodded and turned back to his monitor, as if he didn’t understand jay really meant we haven’t really looked at each other in days or I think I miss her more when she’s right beside me than when she’s gone.

Jay lied. He doesn’t love being married to a working woman.

He doesn’t mind the bossy bit—never did. In fact, he loved that. The way you talked with your hands when you were passionate about something, the way your voice sharpened when you were standing up for what you believed in, the way no one could ever, ever get the last word when you were in the mood to win. That was you. That was part of what made him fall in love in the first place.

As selfish as it sounded, as wrong as it felt to even think it, there were mornings he wished you’d just stay. That you’d sit across from him again with your silly egg puns and tangled hair and bare feet on the cold kitchen tile. That you’d press a hand to his chest and smooth out his tie, kiss him without looking at the clock.

He was proud of you. God, he was. He saw how alive you were in your field—how you lit up when you talked about projects, ideas, the rush of doing what you loved. You were brilliant. Ambitious. Unstoppable.

And yet… he missed the version of you that used to hold his hand under the table. That used to crawl into his lap when the nights got too quiet. That used to ask him to stay in bed five minutes longer, like the world could wait just a little. He missed being your priority.

Not with flowers or flashy gifts—though he’d do that too, if he thought it would make you smile like you used to. No, Jay wanted to pamper you in quieter ways. Gentler ones.

He wished you didn’t have to wake up to an alarm that sounded like a threat. Wished you didn’t have to pull your hair back so tight, or lace your voice with authority just to be taken seriously in boardrooms that didn’t deserve your brilliance.

He wished your hands weren’t always tired. That your eyes didn’t carry shadows even concealer couldn’t cover.

He wished you didn’t have to work so hard.

Not because he thought less of you—but because he wanted to be the one to give you rest. To be your peace when the world demanded too much. He wanted to run you baths and rub your feet and bring you silly, overpriced coffee just because he passed your favorite spot on the way home. He wanted to see you in soft clothes, curled on the couch, telling him about your dreams instead of your deadlines. He wanted to take care of you the way he used to—the way you used to let him.

With a lump garnering the back of his throat, he forced himself to look at his monitor, but first, he leaned back in his chair, eyes flickering to the corner of his desk where a framed photo of you two smiled up at him. It was from a vacation a year ago. Greece.

The photo was still there. Still smiling.

You, leaning into him, skin sun-warmed and glowing. Him, arm slung around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Wind in your hair, his sunglasses crooked on his nose, both of you laughing at something the camera didn’t catch. A beautiful candid, a raw picture of the love that so quietly, yet easily flourished.

He wondered if you remembered that trip the way he did. The way he still did—every time he looked at that photo, every time he closed his eyes and pictured you in that white dress, laughing as the sea breeze played with the hem.

His thumb brushed the edge of the frame gently. Like touching it would bring you back.

The heating wasn’t working again.

Jay clicked the thermostat again, watching the light blink uselessly. Nothing. He exhaled through his nose, rubbed the back of his neck, and thought to himself to give the gas company a call tomorrow morning.

The apartment felt colder than usual tonight. Not cold enough to see your breath or anything stark like that—just enough of a chill that it crept under your clothes and made everything feel a little too still. A little too quiet.

He crawled into bed with a sigh, the sheets cool against his goosebumped skin. He didn’t bother calling for you. You were still getting ready in the bathroom, your nightly routine running longer these days—more work to catch up on, you insist.

He lay flat on his back, eyes tracing the same crack on the ceiling he always ignored. One hand tucked beneath his head. The other just sat there on his stomach, useless.

The room echoed with nothing. No laughter. No music. Just the dull hum of pipes and the faint clink of you rinsing out your mouth.

And then you came in. No words, no eye contact—just a tired grunt as you slid beneath the covers beside him, the mattress shifting with your weight.

Another long day. Another night of backs turned and unspoken words crowding the dark.

You didn’t mean to be cold.

He didn’t mean to stay quiet.

But somewhere along the way, this had become normal.

Tired silence. Distant bodies.

Jay stared up at the ceiling. That stupid crack again. Suddenly it seemed the most interesting thing in the world.

He didn’t move when you pulled the blanket over yourself, didn’t reach out like he used to.

It was too cold.

And it wasn’t just the lack of heating.

He sighed. Suddenly, the space between the both of you felt raw, more painful then it already was. And before he knew it, a sharp, aching intake of breath left his lips.

You frowned.

At first, you thought maybe he was clearing his throat. Maybe his breath had caught on the dry, cold air. But then another came. A soft, whimpery exhale. So quiet, it sounded like it wasn’t meant to be heard. And then it shattered.

A sob. A small, helpless, heartbreakingly real sob.

You froze.

Your husband doesn’t cry.

Not when he’s frustrated. Not when he’s exhausted. Not even when he’s hurting. Jay holds things in. That’s just how he’s always been—quiet in grief, steady in discomfort, the kind of man who folds his pain neatly and tucks it away where no one can see it.

The last time you saw him cry, really cry, was in Greece. A dead turtle on the shore. He tried to brush it off, made some dumb joke about how its little shell looked, but when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d turned away, eyes shining, lip trembling. He’d cried for five minutes and then kissed your shoulder like nothing happened.

This wasn’t five minutes.

This wasn’t quiet.

This was months of silence catching up to him. A thousand missed kisses. Every time your hand slipped out of his. Every breakfast shared in silence. Every time he forced himself to scarf down an egg. Every “have a good day” muttered instead of kissed into his collar.

Jay was crying like he’d forgotten how to stop.

Your eyes went wide in the dark as your body turned toward him on instinct. “Jay…?”

He didn’t answer. He wept.

The sound was raw, torn straight from his chest—ugly and aching and real. He turned his face away from you, burying it into the pillow like he couldn’t bear to be seen, like letting you witness this would break him even more.

You gasped, helping him sit up against the bed frame as he hiccuped with pain, as his back hit the frame with a quiet thud, head tipping back against it as if even holding it upright was too much.

His eyes—God, his eyes—bloodshot and glassy, swollen from crying, stared ahead blankly. Not at you. Not at anything. Just gone somewhere far.

You knelt between his legs, hands trembling as you reached for his face, brushing hair back from his forehead, smoothing it down like you used to during those spontaneous instead of going to work cuddles.

“Jay…” you whispered, your heart absolutely wrecked. You winced, the pain in your chest bordering physical.

You reached for his face again, holding it between your palms even as he kept his eyes downcast.

“Talk to me. Please.”

You hadn’t realized it had gotten this bad. You’d known things were off—of course you had. The silence. The quick goodbyes. The skipped dinners and missed texts. But you thought it was just a phase. A rough patch. Something that would smooth itself out once the deadlines cleared, once the meetings slowed, once life calmed down.

You didn’t realize he was hurting. Not like this. Not this deeply.

And now, sitting here with him shaking under your hands, unable to look at you, sobbing like a boy lost in the dark, you felt shame crawl up your spine. How did I miss this? How did I let this happen?

He let out a sad little sniffle, the kind that clawed its way out of his throat and didn’t even try to hide how pathetic it sounded.

Then, he shrugged your hands away.

Not hard. Not cruel. Just tired. And it was heartbreaking.

His eyes flicked toward the bedroom door to the left, avoiding yours. Dismissive, like he was over it. Like he didn’t care anymore.

But you knew better.

You’d loved this man long enough to recognize the lie in his body language. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way his fingers twitched against his thigh like they were fighting the urge to reach back for you.

He didn’t want to end the moment.

He didn’t want to shut you out.

He just didn’t know how to say what he needed.

Your voice softened into a whisper, almost unsure. “Jay…”

He didn’t look at you, just let out a shaky exhale through his nose. “Do you love me, still? Y/n?”

The words were quiet. Too quiet. Like they’d been buried inside him for weeks, maybe months, and had finally clawed their way out.

Your breath caught. Like it physically stopped in your throat.

“What?” you breathed, stunned. “Jay, of course I do—“

But he flinched. Not away from you—but inward, like even your answer might hurt too much if it wasn’t the one he needed to hear.

“You don’t look at me like you used to,” he said, voice hoarse. “You don’t even touch me. Not unless I’m crying in bed like a child.”

“Jay—”

“I don’t say this to guilt you,” he whispered, voice cracking again. “I just need to know. Because I feel like I’m loving you alone.”

Your hand flew to his cheek, your thumb sweeping under his eye as your forehead fell to his, desperate to find a connection. A single tear trickled down your cheek.

“You wake up before me,” he said quietly, voice trembling. “You’re out the door before I can kiss you. You come home late. You don’t smile at me the way you used to. You don’t…” His voice cracked again. “You don’t see me.”

He stopped for a second, and then let out a laugh—watery, small, a sound that twisted your stomach because it wasn’t joyful at all. It was hollow. “You don’t even touch me,” he said, voice barely holding together. “Do I… disgust you? Do I not please you enough?” He added, his voice pensive, but so small and insecure it knocked the air out of you. “What—Jay, no. What are you talking about?”

His eyes flashed to yours—finally, fully—and you wished they hadn’t. Because all you saw was pain. Deep, aching, starved-for-love pain.

“I lay beside you every night, inches away, and it feels like I’m in another room,” he said, breath catching. “You don’t reach for me. You don’t even flinch when I don’t kiss you goodbye anymore. You just let it happen.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because he was right. Not because you didn’t love him.

But because somewhere along the line, you started surviving instead of living. And he was the one who paid for it.

“I thought maybe you were tired,” he continued. “Or stressed. But then it kept happening. No kisses. No holding hands. Not even a passing touch in the hallway. And I thought… maybe you don’t want me anymore. Maybe I stopped being someone you see that way.”

Your eyes welled. “Jay, I—God, I never wanted to make you feel like that.”

“Then why did you?” he whispered.

You paused for a second.

And then—you did the only thing your body remembered how to do when words failed you.

You sobbed. A broken, trembling breath ripped through your chest, and you surged forward, cupping his face like it was the last thing tethering you to this earth.

You kissed him.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and tear-stained and soaked in apology. But it was real. Every part of you screamed into that kiss—I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t give up on me.

At first, he just sat there. Stunned. Frozen.

And then, slowly, his hands gripped your wrists, pulling you closer, kissing you back with something just as shattered.

He gasped against your mouth like he’d forgotten how it felt to need you like this. To be needed. To be wanted.

And when you pulled away, your foreheads pressed together, breaths tangled, he whispered, “Please don’t stop loving me.”

You shook your head, tears slipping freely now.

“I never did,” you whispered. “I just forgot how to show you.”

He gasped for air as he cried into your neck, shoulders shaking with each broken sob. You held him tighter, like your arms could sew the pieces of him back together. Your hands moved instinctively—rubbing slow, smooth circles over his chest, right over his heart. The place he loved you from the most.

Each hiccuped breath he took shattered you a little more.

“My poor baby…” you murmured, your voice barely holding steady, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “So touch deprived, huh?”

He nodded, fast and desperate, like a child needing comfort. Like someone who’d been waiting for this—for you—for too long.

Your hand slid up to cradle his jaw as he clung to you, thumb brushing away the fresh wave of tears. “You don’t have to beg for it anymore,” you whispered. “I’m right here. I’m so sorry I left you starving for me.”

His arms squeezed around you like he didn’t believe you’d stay. Like if he loosened his grip, you’d slip away again.

“You can touch me whenever you want,” you murmured against his temple. “Hold me whenever. Kiss me whenever. You don’t have to ask.”

He looked down at you hopefully, eyes blurred with hazy tears. “So can I kiss you now?” He muttered hopefully.

“You never have to ask me that question again, my jongseong.” Your voice cracked on his name—soft and reverent, whilst his eyes searched yours, still teary, still unsure, like he was waiting for the part where you’d vanish again.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

And you meant it.

And before he could spiral back into silence, you kissed him.

Fierce. Needy. Deep enough to tell him every word you didn’t know how to say. That he was loved. Wanted. Chosen.

He gasped softly against your lips, but this time it wasn’t from pain—it was from the overwhelming feeling of relief. Like your kiss was oxygen, and he was coming back to life for the first time in months.

Your hands threaded into his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, grounding himself in your warmth.

He kissed you back like he was remembering it all—how to hold you, how to crave you, how to feel safe in your love again.

He hummed lowly as you suckled on his tongue, hands bruising into your waist as his length slowly grew hard. You groaned at the feeling, rutting your clothed clit over his bulge.

He broke the kiss simply to moan— a sound so desperate, but certainly long due, as your manicured hands roamed his chest warmly, pulling his shirt off attentively.

He groaned, throwing his head back as he pistoned his hips upwards, moaning softly at the friction after months of being void of it all. “Fuck, my Y/n. I missed you.” He managed between shaky breaths— from pleasure or crying, you’d no clue.

His moans grew louder, just so slightly, and the pool in your panties grew too. You moved against his bulge faster, with growing ache. You forgot how touch deprived you were too, when this distance grew. How you ached for your husband and him only.

With a resolute, high pitched whine, he slumped against the bed frame, a sign that he came already, and you laughed softly, kissing his cheeks softly as you rutted yourself against him just a little faster, a little harder. He fidgeted with overstimulation, but too tired to protest, he merely buried his head in your neck, hands fussing with your pyjama shirt.

With a moan you pathetically released in the simple cloth of your panties, slumping beside him tiredly.

He threw your shirt to the side carelessly, instantaneously burying himself right in the valley of your breasts. He sighed contently, breathing you in as if there were no better place for him to be.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, scratching gently at his scalp in the way you knew always made his shoulders loosen. He melted into it without hesitation, arms still looped tight around your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

You exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

His breath hitched—just once—but it wasn’t from sadness anymore. It was from peace.

You stayed like that, forehead resting against his hair, your thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles into his back.

“I missed this,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your collarbone.

You smiled softly, your hand stilling in his hair to cradle the back of his head. “I missed you. All of this. And I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

He nodded into you, his hold relaxing just enough to let you shift, but not enough to let you go.

“Promise?” he whispered.

You simply tilted his head up and kissed him again—light, yet heavy with passion, weighing down with hope.

“Promise.”

oh inlove him how could anyone break his pretty lil heart💔reblogs n likes much appreciated! ty for reading<3

©VAMPZWON

[girl-in-the-chairs-void]

AAAAA OH MY GOD<3333333 Please do a part 2 to hold me, console me, im eating it up

The angst is delicious, thank you<333333

Hold me, console me (part 2)

Theworst!logan x reader (part 1)

Tags: @pedroscurls

A/N: I know this goes without saying but I am a WHORE for broken men and the “I can fix him trope”, Logan fits just that. LEMME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!! (not proofread btw)

You find yourself standing in front of a familiar door that morning—Wade's door. He had been the one to play matchmaker between you and Logan, always eager to meddle in his own chaotic way.

‘Sweet and sour, just how I like my cu-‘ he used to tease about your dynamic, though he never meant harm. How could he, when all you did was bring him and Al delicious dinners and baked goods? Wade would’ve married you himself if Vanessa weren’t in the picture. ‘You’re my twin flame,’ he’d often joke, even though you were nothing like him. You were quiet, reserved, and detested socializing unless it was within the comfort of either your or Wade’s apartment.

Now, here you are, on the morning of your worst heartbreak, clutching a tub of ice cream and a bag of microwavable popcorn outside his door.

Three sharp knocks echo in the hallway. You hear a clatter from inside, followed by a string of muffled curses, until the door swings open to reveal a face that knocks the air right out of you.

Logan.

“Oh...” Your eyes widen as you freeze, a storm of emotions brewing within you.

Before you can stop yourself, you push past him, setting down the ice cream and popcorn on a nearby table. When you turn around, your face is met with the solid wall of his chest. He looks down at you, sorrow etched deep into his features. And suddenly, everything boils over.

“You,” you spit, fire blazing in your eyes. You strike his chest, again and again, and he lets you—lets you unleash your frustration, your anger, because he knows he deserves it.

“You left. No warning, no note. You were just... gone! Clothes packed, phone off! What were you thinking? I begged you to stay, Logan. I begged.” Your voice cracks, and the tears come, burning hot down your cheeks. But all you notice is the tears in his eyes, and the soft rustle of movement from the kitchen where Wade is likely listening.

You try to ignore the thought of Al and Wade overhearing your heartbreak, keeping your tear-blurred gaze fixed on Logan.

“Bub—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “I know it’s hard, Logan. I do. I was there when Wade went through his worst. I’ve stood by friends in their darkest days. I want to be there for you, through everything. But you shut me out.”

Your voice trembles, betraying you, and you see him instinctively move to hold you, but you step back, wiping at your tears. The hurt in his eyes is unmistakable, but you continue.

“I’m sorry if you think I’m pushing you too hard. I’m sorry if I ask for too much. But I love you, Logan. And no matter how much you run, I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

The silence between you lingers, thick with unsaid words, before it’s broken by slow clapping from the kitchen.

“You really hit him with that one, sweets,” Wade’s voice calls out. “No, seriously, I was just telling him he should’ve dealt with his frustration by boning you—”

But Wade’s words are cut short. Before you know it, Logan’s grabbed your wrist and is pulling you toward the door, past Wade’s crude commentary. He leads you out of Wade's apartment, two doors down to your own, ignoring the continued yells from Wade behind you.

“Logan, what—?” you barely get the words out before his arms are around you, lifting you from the waist until your face is nestled against the crook of his neck. You feel the warmth of his tears against your skin, his body trembling with quiet sobs.

You hold him, your hands moving to comfort him, running through his hair, soothing his ragged breathing.

“You—” he starts, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “In my world... you died. I killed you. I let you die.” His voice shakes as the sobs take over. “I never meant to... I didn’t mean to let them die, bub.”

You feel his knees give way, and the two of you sink to the cold hallway floor. He’s crying harder now, his grip tightening around you as if letting go might make you disappear too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so—”

“Shhh,” you whisper, cutting him off softly. “I’m here. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He clings to you, his desperation palpable. You pull away just enough to cup his face in your hands. “Look at me, Logan. I’m alive. You didn’t lose me—not here.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, feeling his breath begin to slow, then to his tear-soaked eyelids. You kiss him softly, murmuring gentle reassurances between each touch.

“I’m here. I’ll hold you. I’ll love you. Forever. Does that sound like a deal?”

As you cradle Logan’s face in your hands, his breathing starts to slow. The raw emotion in his eyes begins to soften, though the weight of everything still lingers in the air between you. He looks at you, truly seeing you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a small, shaky smile begins to form on his lips. It’s brief, but it’s there. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Don’t say that,” you reply softly. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the cold floor grounding you both in the present. His arms are still tight around your waist, as though letting go might shatter the fragile peace you’ve found. You stay like that, the world outside your apartment and Wade’s chaotic energy fading into the background.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your hands sliding from his face to his shoulders.

“Come on,” you say gently. “Let’s get up. You’re going to catch a cold sitting here, even if it’s for a little bit.” You say, aware of his super healing.

Logan hesitates, as if reluctant to let go of the closeness, but then he nods. You both stand slowly, your legs shaky from the emotional intensity. Without a word, you lead him into your apartment, closing the door behind you.

Inside, the dim lighting casts a soft glow over the room. It’s quiet, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that just unraveled in the hallway. You sit on the couch, and Logan follows, sitting beside you. There’s still a heaviness in his movements, a man weighed down by too many ghosts from his past, but he’s here. He’s with you.

For a few minutes, the silence is comfortable. You lean against him, his arm naturally wrapping around your shoulders. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest is a soothing reminder that despite everything, you’re both still here—alive, together.

“You don’t have to talk,” you say softly, sensing the turmoil still swirling inside him. “Not now. Not until you’re ready.”

Logan’s thumb traces slow circles on your shoulder, a sign that he’s listening. After a moment, he speaks, his voice quiet but steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he admits. “But... I want to try.”

You turn to face him, your heart swelling with a mixture of hope and sadness. “That’s all I need to hear.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m sorry for leaving,” he whispers. “For everything.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. But you’re here now. And we’ll figure it out. Together.” You reach for his hand, giving it three squeezes before reaching up to give him a peck, one of reassurance.

For the first time in a long while, you both let the quiet settle, not out of avoidance, but out of mutual understanding. The journey ahead might not be easy, but it’s a path you’ll walk side by side. As the minutes tick by, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. You’re not alone in this—neither of you are. And for now, that’s enough.

Suddenly, a loud knock on your door breaks the silence that makes you jump, followed by Wade’s unmistakable voice shouting through the wood.

“Hey! Are you two done with the emotional stuff yet? I’ve got pancakes in here, and they’re getting cold!”

You exchange a glance with Logan, both of you barely suppressing a laugh. The tension in the room eases just a bit, the smallest sliver of normalcy creeping back in.

“We should probably go before he kicks the door down,�� you say with a smirk.

Logan stands and offers you a hand, his expression a little lighter now. “Yeah,” he agrees, a small but genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both walk back toward the world—not broken, but healing, one step at a time.

[chixkencxrry]

crazy, crazy for loving you

Summary: Loss can make people go insane. (Yandere! Miguel O’hara x Yandere! Fem! Reader)

MINORS DNI

Warning: They’re both insane and a bit immoral. They are both very, very unstable people. This is a dark story of mutual obsession. (Mutual Non-Con Voyuerism, Mutual Masturbation, P in V, Swearwords, Mutual Stalking, Mutual Non-Con Spying, Oral (F receiving), Dark themes, Cockwarming) YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS ON YOU AND YOU ALONE!

When you see him, it's hard to keep your hands at your side and not run to him. It’s hard not to look at the man that wears your dead husband’s face and not weep like a baby. But you know it isn’t him. No, this man with the war in his eyes and fangs of a beast is not your Miguel.

But, God – God, did you wish it was. 

So, yes, you were quick to agree to be apart of his little operation. Quick clipping the gizmo onto your wrist. The Spiderman logo spread along your torso like some awful red target. He knew your name, but it was obvious that you didn’t exist in his world. If you had, you were sure they would have been together. No. The you of his world was dead, like the him of your world. It was darkly poetic. 

Lyla had taken a liking to you – his AI. She unintentionally helped you keep track of him; you didn’t stalk just keep track. 

Then it happened. The fine click that had truly sent your observing of Miguel corrupt into something else, something darker. 

Something had caused the collapse of your world. It was a war, much like the great Titan on EARTH-199999. Your world crumbled before you; you already didn’t have much left after the death of your Miguel but now you had nothing left. 

When the collapse of it came, you were not on the battlefield with the other Avengers. You had been in the cemetery, fingers clawing into Miguel’s grave – determined to bury yourself in there with him. The cold mud coated your hands and body, knee digging in. You were about two feet deep, mad with intent. 

“Y/N?”

The word stilled you. It was Miguel, you turned your head in a horrible hopefulness. Disappointment settled on your shoulders, in some half-mad frenzy, you’d thought it was your Miguel. But it wasn’t it was Miguel.

“Leave me alone.” you growled. “My world is dying.”

“You don’t have to.”

I died when you did.

“I’m right here, Y/N.”

“No.” you muttered, fingers in the dirt. “You’re below. I’m getting you out.”

A warm body dropped down, covering your back and pushing you forward. You wiggled and fought but felt a pinch at the side of your neck. Your mania subsided, a false peace overwhelming you. Before you knew it, you collapsed in the mud. 

It had taken weeks of manic behaviour. They had to sedate you to get you to calm down – barricade and and chain you to stop you from attacking. You’d gone mad. 

When Miguel came to visit you, you’d taken a turn for the better. 

“I heard you broke Spiderman 8077’s jaw.” Miguel doesn’t seem amused. He stands over you – through the fizzing cage that electrocutes you everytime you touch it. You can’t bring yourself to snarl or fight. You look at him – flesh, bone, hope. 

“He tried to make me forget.”

Miguel flinched. “He suggested something to help you sleep.”

“If I sleep, I forget him.”

“It doesn’t work like that.” Miguel’s tone was soft and low. You closed your eyes and imagined being home in your apartment, the record player on and rain falling. Miguel dancing with you, dipping you low and laughing on your skin. 

The daydream dissolves when you hear the click of your cell open. His voice of stone ordered; “Lay down.”

Instinct, really – the way you move to the cot and wiggle until your back hits the wall. The bed shakes as Miguel’s massive frame sets itself on the bed. He held you, pulling you close. He smelt like your Miguel. Felt like him too. But were all rugged edges compared to the softness of the man you were married to. Your fingers threaded in his hair, snagging a few by accident to bring them to your nose. You tucked some strands into your suit. For later.

For the first time in years, sleep came to you with ease. With that ease came the confirmation of what a gift reuniting with this different Miguel was. You had a second chance. Now, it was time to make use of it. Properly.

***

Miguel had started watching you when your world collapsed and you’d transition to his universe. Now, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been stalking – following – shit – observing you before. He’d just wanted you to get used to the Universe first. Ensuring you had a good identity, a day job and income. 

You’d been grateful. So, very grateful.

He imagined that gratitude as something baser, raw and trembling. But he knew not to test the hand of fate. Yet he hungered for you. The devotion you’d shown to your husband, a version of him, was indescribably delicious. He wanted that for himself. Wanted you, all tears, all love. Each aspect of you a memorising thing; greed flooded him at the thought of claiming you.

It seemed like fate to offer you the guest room of his apartment. He hadn’t used it in years, and it was a waste not to let you in. You’d jumped at the opportunity – a perfect gift. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. Yes. Having you in his house, showering, eating, naked, open – mierda!

 He took a deep breath to cool himself down. You were still at the dorm quarters of HQ, significantly more sane than you were a week ago when the two of you first slept together. Your scent still lingered in his mind. Lilies and cucumbers, fresh and vibrant. Thick and rich, god – he wanted more of that. More of the security of holding you. More of having you have him. The feel of your body curled into his, the softness of your silk skin breaking the delicate thread of his self-control. 

Miguel looked at the room he’d allotted to you. Climbing to a corner to screw in a non-reflective camera. Getting you here was the first step and he was a patient man. Miguel had to make sure the apartment looked lived in. Making sure that some floorboards creaked, chipped at some paint on the walls, and ensured there was a leaky faucet in the guest bath.

His watch dinged. Fifteen minutes away. 

Lyla flickered into existence. “Wow. This violates so many laws.”

“Didn’t ask.” he grumbled, wrenching open a panel of the wall to place a listening device.

“You get that for free.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Anamolly on Earth-7834, they need backup.”

“There are thousands of other Spiders to call.” He placed a nail between his teeth, hammering the panel back on.

“Yeah, well, Y’N asked for you.”

That made him pause. Swearing, he hurriedly put the panel back and suited up, tapping his gizmo and falling into a different dimension. 

***

You only felt a little bad for deceiving Lyla. 

Sure, Miguel would probably be pissed when he found out that you had lied and made his AI lie to him with some clever coding but it would be worth it in the end when the two of you were finally together. You just couldn’t get out of HQ unnoticed without some sort of distraction. So, you figured what could be better than calling in a favour with a friend you’d made while traversing Universes? Felicia was more than willing to play the part, ever wanton for chaos. 

She helped you cause a minor anomaly which sent off enough of the Spiders off and allowed you to sneak into Miguel’s apartment. You looked for the master – the only room with a photo in it, one of him and his passed daughter. It broke your heart to know the pain he’d experienced. But you knew you were here now and more than willing to provide comfort and a new child. You’d even let him name the first one. 

You weren’t here for that. You were here to plant a few presents. Sticking to his bedroom ceiling, you planted a camera in the corner, near his closet. In his bathroom, by his shower and mirror – you planted another one. 

Time was limited. You knew the false alarm would only give you a short time. Before you left, you went through his closet, nose dug into his clothing and inhaling his scent. Sandalwood and oud. God, the earthiness sent a shiver down your spine. Unable to control yourself, you snatched a T-shirt and left through the window. You have five minutes left until your proposed arrival. Five minutes until Miguel consensually lets you into his home. 

Foolish boy.

If only he knew what you had in store for him. 

***

Miguel hurriedly returned home. Frustration laced his sojourn, as he tried to figure out just how Lyla had mistaken you calling out the anomaly of you being there and requesting his help. It was probably some bug. A minor thing he would fix after he greeted you. 

One minute left.

He was cutting it close, climbing through his window and showering as fast as possible. He hadn’t even had time to dry himself off when the doorbell rang, pulling clothes on with wet skin. 

“She’s here!” chimed Lyla, a little too cheerfully.

Miguel rolled his eyes. “No soy sordo, Lyla.”

When he opened the door, you were standing there with just two bags and a smile on your full lips. Eyes fluttering up at him with thick lashes and a soft look; “Hey.”

“Come in,” he welcomed without preamble. Miguel purposefully kept the space for you to pass narrowly. You were shorter than him and plush as you passed, buttocks jamming him slightly as you turned your back to pass in. Your toes shoved behind your feet to slip out of your shoes without him asking, he forgot for a moment that you knew him, even if it was another version. There were parts of himself you probably knew better than anyone did.

That made him excited. 

“Your apartment is lovely.” You said earnestly. “Where do I put my bags?”

He moved to you, taking the bags and walking ahead to lead you to the guest room. It wasn’t bad. A queen-sized bed and all other necessities for a room. Miguel gestured to the opened door, “That’s the bathroom.Might give you some trouble but you’re welcome to use me – I mean mine anytime.”

You didn’t seem to catch him fumbling – ayúdame dios – walking around the room to get a better view. In the dim light, you looked fantastic, the neon of the outside shining on your skin and the expanse of your perfect skin exposed in those tiny shorts you wore. 

Jealously bloomed in his chest. Had you fucking worn those on your walk here? How many people saw you? How many men had seen you in this way? Feral rage gripped him. Miguel set your bags down in the doorway, stepping back before he did something violent. 

“You eat yet?” the question came out as a snappish growl which seemed to startle you. He cringed. He didn’t want you to fear him – he just wanted you to know your place as his. 

Your brows furrowed. “You good, Miguel?”

“I’m dandy, princesa.”

A delicious blush bloomed on your skin. The honey was not enough to stop it from beaming forward. He wanted to drag his tongue down – to see how far this blush went. “I-I haven’t eaten yet.”

He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I’ve got some food in the kitchen. Eat with me?”

“Sure.”

Dinner went by slowly. Not in an awkward manner but it was agonising all the same. Agonsing to watch you sit across from him, agonising not to touch you, agonising not bit into your flesh and claw into your pussy with his hard cock. 

His patience wore thin but he maintained. 

The two of you had drinks afterwards, sitting on the couch until it grew too late. You yawned, hands stretching to the ceiling and pointed breasts jotting out through the cotton of your tank top. Your hoodie was abandoned somewhere. He eyed the pleasant curves of your body, the grooves that came from you being Spider-Woman and the softness that came from your natural figure.

“I’m gonna take that shower.” You announced. “Thank you for letting me stay with you, Miguel…I really appreciate it.”

Could you appreciate it with your mouth around his cock? “Of course. Anything for you. Y/N.”

You smiled prettily scampering off into your room. Miguel wasted no time in heading to his own, pulling up a camera feed from your bathroom. He sighed, watching you undress. You were humming along to something, hips shaking and hands running down your body. 

He raised his hips, shoving his sweatpants down. His half-hard length plopping out. Fingers encircled the base, rubbing up and down as he watched you move. 

You stepped into the shower and he switched the cameras. You sodded your body up, perfect nipples hard and hand slipping between your thighs. You rubbed yourself frantically. Rolling your nipple under your palms as you humped your fingers. 

Miguel turned the volume up, his own cock coated in his special essence as he watched you. His hand became frenzied, tighter as it took him closer to an orgasm. His peak came as your voice sounded the last thing he expected to hear. 

His own name. 

“Meirda…Y/N…you want me too, baby?” He coated himself, groaning as you slumped on the video. You shook off your climax and finished showering, stepping out with a glow. He restarted the video, turning the volume louder – thankful for his soundproof room. 

The knowledge that this wasn’t one-sided set something off in him. He threw his head, stroking himself from top to bottom. Desire coiled in his belly, like a snake ready to pounce.

Who was he to deny your wants, princesa?

***

Your fingers rapped on Miguel’s door somewhere close to midnight. You’d timed it perfectly. Your fearless leader hardly slept anyway so you were sure you wouldn’t be intruding. After all, you were sick? Weren’t you? The pills weren’t working, you needed to sleep. You hadn’t slept properly since that night. Lies concocted to make it all work. You just had to maintain your facade of innocence. 

You smiled, thinking of Miguel’s little performance for you on your camera. You’d seen him stroke himself over and over at some random video feed. You saw his thick seed spurt out. Saw the girth of his length twitch to life. Fuck. You wanted that. 

“Y/N?” Miguel’s voice was hoarse with sleep. You softened your face and frowned. “Did I wake you up? I’m so sorry…I just couldn’t sleep and you’d helped me that night…”

Ever generous, he opened his door wider to let you in. He’d changed form his earlier sweatpants. No doubt it was covered in his own spunk. A shame, really. “Of course, come inside. I’ll get another blanket for you.”

“Oh no.” You showed him the lilac blanket you’d brought with you from HQ. “I have my own.”

“Hmm.” He led you to the bed and slipped behind you to spoon you as easily as he had that night. You hummed, wiggling against him. You made sure to throw your blanket on both of you. You heard Miguel groan behind you, his body shifting and arms holding you close.

The synthetic material was interwoven with your pheromones, wired to set Miguel off. That night he had slept with you, you had plucked hair enough to get his DNA to pattern it so that it made him rut like a beast in heat. It was a chance you were taking. It would only work if Miguel wanted you too – if only a little You grinned, smiling as your payment boiled up. Miguel would be yours, it was what was best. 

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

Hours passed. You laid awake listening to him torture himself. Your patience grew thin. Why didn’t the idiot just hold you down and fuck you yet? “Miguel?” You whispered. “Everything alright?”

He murmured in Spanish, nothing clear enough for you to even hear. His hand, large and spanning, set itself on your hip. 

You ground your ass into his crouch. “Miguel?”

“Cállate princesa,” he growled in a tone that made your toes curl. An excited smile spread across your face. “I need to take a walk.”

That made your smile drop. “Now? It’s so late.”

He didn’t say anything, his weight lifting from the bed as he went to hurriedly dress. His back turned to you as he tried to be modest. Your eyes dropped to his round ass. Was he really going to go out and fuck some bitch after you did all the work? Not on your watch. 

“Miguel,” you dropped your tone, low and purring. “Come back to bed.”

He turned his head, eyes red as they flickered over you. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Was he afraid of losing control? How adorable. You sat up, letting the blanket fall from you, the muscle shirt that was three sizes too big fell off your arm exposing an entire breast to him. You were being desperate but you’d be damned if he wasn’t going to rearrange your guts tonight.

He paused, staring at you. You almost grinned. That seemed to do it. 

He dropped the t-shirt he held and crawled over to you, pressing his forward to your as he inhaled your scent. “Tell me this is real.”

Oh.

You desperate thing. How I will devour you, How I will keep you. “It's real. I need you, Mig. I want you.”

His lips slammed onto yours. Tongue piercing the seam of your lips to kiss you fully. His hands pawed at your body, grabbing and groping at everything. Your sleep shirt was ripped in half as he claimed total access to your body. Your hands touched him everywhere, settling on the hump of his buttocks, pulling it close to your hips. You rubbed your bare crouch against his sweat, humping him with blind need. 

Miguel pushed you back, your head hitting a pillow as you watched him take his cock out. The fat, beautiful thing you’d been dreaming about riding since you met him. There wasn’t anytime for preamble – you wouldn’t suck the beautiful thing just yet. 

He stroked himself for a moment, red eyes boring into you as he lowered his face between your legs. Miguel ate you sloppily. Lips smacking and tongue licking, he sucked your swollen clit, pressing his index in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You gripped his head, arching your back as your thrust your hips up, truth spilled from you: “Eat me so good, Miguel. Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted this.”

He was too busy enjoying his meal to respond. The lewd noises making you tremble as much as the act. Miguel’s fangs brushed against your folds, before he fucked your pussy with his tongue, pressing his dampened fingers to rub your clit as he licked your insides. 

Clenching around his head, your mouth spewed all manner of dark desires, the height of your arousal squirting all along his face. Words failed you as he continued to worship your pussy with his mouth and fingers. 

He raised his head for a moment. His left hand cupped your tit for him to suck while his other fingered you to your second orgasm. Thumb rubbing your clit in precise circles as he bit and sucked your areola. Faster than the first, you mewled your orgasm out on his fingers. Miguel let your nipple fall, watching you as he sucked his fingers dry. He sat on his hunches, leaning back as you writhed, quivering pussy begging for more. Begging for his cock. 

“You look pretty like this princesa, pretty falling apart in my bed for me. You want me to fuck you now? Want me to spread this pussy wide? Want me to make you fucking bawl? Beg for it, baby.” His face read of cruelty while his lips purred to you. You watched helpless as Miguel looked down on you. One of his hands stretched forward to your wanting hole and slapped it. You whimpered. He grinned and slapped it again. 

“I want you to know something before I fuck you,” he whispered, leaning forward, mushroom tip brushing along the seam of your slit. “You’re mine, princesa. You’re my puta. My perra, zorra. Mi amor. Mi todo. And I’m greedy, so when I fuck you – know that it's all over. I become your world and you become mine.”

You bit your lip. The words fell like poetry in your haze: you were truly made for each other. Did he even know how perfect he was for you?

“Ye…s.” You croaked out. “Yes, Miguel.”

His hips snapped, bottoming out into you so hard you screamed against his laughter.

***

Was this heaven?

Miguel had long since thought he was banned from such a place. Long since thought salvation was removed from him. But right now, while he held your waist and fucked his cock into you – he knew he had found it. You looked divine. Your mouth agape and hands rubbing all over him. Your breasts, bounced and full as he made his mark in you. He wanted every groove of his cock known by your pussy. His cock was to be imprinted, moulded into you. You were to know no other but his by the time he was done fucking the common sense out of you.

“My pretty cock dumb, princesa.”

You hummed, heels digging to his ass as his hips snapped. You squeezed him tight but he knew he was leaving marks on your body as he fucked you into his mattress. “Gonna keep you on my cock every day. You'd like that wouldn’t you, perra?”

“Love t-that.” Nails scrapped his back. “G-Gonna cum.”

He could feel that in the tightening of your pretty cunt. The slimy stickiness of your desire echoed in the room, he pinched your nipple making you cry out. “I know, princesa. Do that for me. Cum on my cock.”

Miguel felt your climax, wet and whimpering. You cried beneath him, overstimulated as he fucked you. He fondled your breast once more, hand going between the two of you. He rubbed your sensitive clitoris, smirking as you moaned from the ache. “Good girl. So pretty crying like that. Think you can go again?”

You shock your head, tears forming in your eyes. He felt his balls grow tight but kept at your clit. You shuddered at another shockwave. Finally, he thought leaning forward to cover you until your breasts smashed against his chest. His own release came, loosening the taut feeling that had centred his whole body. Miguel’s hips jerked, making sure his seed took its rightful place in you. 

When he tried to roll off, you kept him on. He looked at you questioning.“Don’t want any to drip out just yet.”

“No chance of that,” he muttered, kissing your neck. His hips jerked, as he found himself in a slow rhythm. “I’m not nearly done with this pussy yet.”

***

“I don’t think I’ve ever visited this universe.” you pointed out at one of the monitors. It was an Earth without a Spider-persona filled with cannibals. 

 Miguel looked to your side and grimaced. “Fuck no.”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s the sense of me being here if not to go to unknown places?”

Miguel huffed, hand sneaking under the skirt of your dress. “Princesa, you came here because you saw me talking to a female Spider-persona and then insisted on warming my cock for the rest of the afternoon.”

“So?” You waved your hand. He was lucky you didn’t her to that universe. Perky little bitch was looking a little too googly-eyed at him. “Maybe I was bored. You ever thought of that?”

“You can always go back out on the field.” He suggested.

You snorted, rolling your hips to make him hiss. His cock twitched, surrounded by your leaking cunt. “The last time I went on a mission I thought you were going to kill my poor partner.”

“He was being a little too friendly.” 

“Honey,” Miguel’s hand slipped inside the front of your dress, popping out your full breasts as he slowly rocked up into you. “Peter from Earth-997845 is very much engaged to Johnny Storm.” You wouldn’t mind going out again but you were so comfortable living simply with Miguel and helping him manage HQ. Who was he even talking to? He hadn’t gone on a mission for the months you two had started seeing each other either.

“You’re a hyp–” he stood up, making you bend over the desk, your breasts hitting the cool metal, he pressed the side of your face down as he slowly plunged in and out of you. “–ocrite.”

“Me?” He grunted, hands going up and down your sides as he took his time dragging his cock. “You’re the one who assaulted me in my office just so you could fill it up with your scent. You don’t think I know your tricks, zorra?”

You grinned, working your hips to meet him. “You better make me squirt a few times – just to make sure the scent takes then.”

Miguel chuckled above you, his talons ripping open your dress as he made good on your challenge. 

MASTERLIST

I'll probably make this a reoccurring thing. Hope you guys liked part 1. Reblogs and comments are nice.

[kyoshithewriter]

Bambi (part three)

warnings: morally… something. Smut (18+)

A/n: this is just a mess atp looool. I have one more part planned then that’s it. Enjoy?

“I’m starting to think you like it here, you know.”

Bridgette eyes her warily as she makes her way into the dressing room. The blonde tosses her bone straight hair over her left shoulder, hip cocking to one side. The cherry red set that adorns her body is a beautiful contrast with her pale skin decorated with dark ink.

Renée ignores the woman’s cerulean blue eyes that track her every move.

“I don’t. But I need to work.”

Renée says dismissively while she removes the flimsy outfit from her duffle bag.

“No, you don’t. You always complained to me about how much you hated it here and you wanted a way out. You’ve got one.”

Renée huffs as she strips bare in front of the woman. She has long passed the stage of being shy about her nakedness in the dressing room.

“It’s not exactly a way out now, is it?”

The loud hiss of a spray bottle travels through the room. Renée frowns at the overly sweet floral smell of cheap perfume that wafts through the space. The dancer, Tiffany, likes to bathe in the obnoxious scent and she is surprised that none of the patrons have told her how awful that stuff is.

“He got you in a luxury apartment in the nicest part of this shit hole city. He bought you an Audi and sends you thousands biweekly. How’s that not a way out?”

“He’s also married and I haven’t heard from in almost three weeks. That hardly screams dependable or secure.”

It’s been seven months since she agreed to the proposition he made in her bedroom. In that time, he has spoiled her rotten. So much so, that she started being scarce at the club. Renée had filled Bridgette in without revealing his identity to soothe her friend’s concerns. She has been loving it for the most part. Not only does she have more time and energy to focus on her studies, the sex is also nothing like she has ever experienced before. The man has ruined her for anyone else and she genuinely fears her sex life after him. After. Because she knows that no matter how blissful it is now, he’s taken. There’s no version of this that leads to them being endgame; it would mean him leaving his wife, breaking up his family. The drama, the scandals, it would all be too much. But she’s selfish, so she enjoys him now. While she still can.

“Wait, has he stopped sending you money?”

“No. But… who knows what comes next after ignoring me for so long? I understand he has… responsibilities and it was easy to forgive him after not hearing from him for two or three days. But weeks?” She chuckles bitterly as she applies shimmery oil on her skin.

“Ah… so that’s why you’ve been coming so often recently.” Bridgette has a sly smile on her face.

“What do you mean? I’m working.”

“That guy told you to quit. You haven’t completely but I notice you come more frequently whenever he pisses you off. Is this your little act of rebellion?

Renée pretends to be busy with the straps of her lacy, pink top.

“Mhmm. Whatever it is, keep doing it. You’re making Diego happy by pulling the big spenders. A happy Diego means more money for me.”

Renée playfully rolls her eyes while Bridgette dances in her personal space.

“Speaking of big spenders, it’s packed out there tonight.”

“It’s a Friday night; it’s always packed.”

Renée says, massaging primer into her skin.

“Obviously I meant more than usual. Some footballer’s birthday or some shit Diego said. So bring your A game because there’s money to be made tonight.”

Renée’s heartbeat momentarily spikes at the mention of footballer.

“I always bring my A game.” She throws a playful wink at Bridgette who laughs airily before strutting out of the room.

And Renée… Renée has a sinking feeling that tonight’s going to be a long night.

***********

The security guard by the front door of her new apartment complex eyes her wearily. Renée can’t even fault him; she didn’t bother to change out of the six inch strappy heels. She just pulled on her pair of sweatpants over her panties, her top covered by only her lacy bralette. There’s no questioning what she has been up to- and the people that live in this building are ‘decent.’But Renée doesn’t care, not when she has thousands of dollars coiled tightly together in her duffle bag. ‘Not when the man you’re slowly growing obsessed with hasn’t spoken to you in three weeks’ she rolls her eyes at her thoughts. Obsessed is a bit dramatic. She won’t deny she misses him though. Stepping into her apartment, Renée immediately reaches to flick the lights on. She reaches behind to lock her door absentmindedly, eyes glued to her phone as she shoots a quick message to Bridgette letting her know that she got home.

“You were at the club.”

The gruff voice forces a short, shrill scream from her throat. Clutching her chest, she looks up to find a very big and very angry Virgil seated on her couch. His expression is stormy: eyes glaring, brows furrowed and mouth slightly tilted downward.

“Why the fuck do you care?” Anger quickly replaces the initial shock. The man has a spare key to her place. Or technically his. He owns the building. She thought it was brazen to move her in but he explained that the security guards and few tenants are not surprised because he comes here often. He uses the apartment a floor above as an escape when he gets into with his wife and needs a place to cool off for the night. It makes a little thought prick at the back of her mind: ‘Is their marriage falling apart? And am I making it worse?’

She tries hard to not think too deeply about it for guilt to try creeping in.

“I thought we had an agreement. Imagine my surprise when I saw Elliot’s private story of you putting on a show on that fucking stage.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I told you I didn’t quit.” She says with a shrug.

“Yes. Then I fucked you until you cried and you swore up and down that you wouldn’t go back.”

Renée’s breath hitches subtly at the memory. It was after one of those periods of him disappearing for days. She had went to the club and posted videos in her close friends that she knows he watches keenly from his burner account. He had paid her special visit and brought a pair of handcuffs and a vibrator with him. Renée still dreams of that night. Of course she said everything he wanted to hear when he managed to pull five orgasms out of her.

“I changed my mind.” She feigns nonchalance with a shrug. He’s hot on her heels as she makes her way towards her bedroom. She completely ignores him and moves to unload her duffle. Renée pulls the thick wad of cash from her bag, eyeing it intently.

“That’s a lot of money… you did private dances, didn’t you?” His tone sounds accusatory.

She shrugs again; “Diego asked me to do a few. Club had a lot of big spenders tonight.”

“What the fuck, Renée?” He sounds as if the mere thought is agonizing. He paces a little.

“What is it? You need more money? I’ll double your allowance-”

She scoffs. “Go home, Virgil.”

Renée slams her bathroom door shut behind her. She takes her time in the shower, basking in the steaming water and also just to make him wait. She isn’t surprised when she finds him seated on her bed in only his boxers and socks. His hair is out of its usual man bun. That means he’s getting comfortable; he intends to spend the night. It makes her heart flutter. Seeing him like this, reminds her of all the times he’d cuddle her on the couch with a hot pack pressed against her lower belly while they watched some episodes of Kitchen Nightmares. It reminds her of the nights leading up to exams that he tried to help her study. It reminds her that she’s starting to like him more than she should and it’s scary. Renée clinches the towel tighter around her chest.

“Can we talk?”

She pretends not to hear him. Instead, she roots around in her drawers for underwear and pajamas.

“I’ve been away a while. I’m sorry. I took my… family back home for a bit then we went on vacation. We had a few weeks off so I had to spend time with them, I barely get to.”

Renée notices he always has a certain reluctance to talk about his family around her; like he’s afraid the reminder will shatter the little fairytale they’ve created in her apartment.

“Mhmmm. You were too busy to tell me that but somehow you still had the time to view every single thing I posted to make sure I wasn’t shaking ass for strangers while you were away, huh?”

He opens his mouth to respond but the shrill sound of her phone ringing interrupts him. Renée eyes it on the bed, just a few inches away from him laying face down. She moves but he’s quicker.

“Give me my phone!”

“Who is Stephen, Renée?”

Renée wants to scream. Not now, Stephen!

“None of your business! Hand over my phone, Virgil.” She tries snatching it out of his hand but he stands to his full height, reaching his arm high.

“It is my business if he’s calling you at 4 am.”

She giggles, eyeing him incredulously. “You’re very funny, I’ll give you that. Now hand it over.”

“Oh I’m funny? Watch me be hilarious.”

Is all the warning she gets before he accepts the call.

Renée watches, eyes wide with horror as he presses the speaker option.

“Don’t you dare.” She mouths at him.

“Hey Ren! You told me earlier that you were working late tonight so I wanted to make sure you’re home safe and what do you think about grabbing brunch tomorrow?” Stephen’s chipper voice is muffled, she's guessing by his pillow. Sweet Stephen who she met in psych class. He’s the textbook definition of a golden retriever boy; bright, honeyed brown hair, hazel eyes with thin framed glasses. He has been pursuing her for awhile and Renée agreed to a date after his fifth time asking two months ago. Renée had accidentally let it slip that she was exhausted from working at nights and had to lie to him. Stephen believes that she works night shifts as a customer service rep and being as sweet as he is, he waits up every night to make sure she’s home safe.

“Brunch huh?” Virgil’s voice brings a tense quiet throughout the room.

Renée glares at him with all the hatred she can muster.

“Ren?” Stephen’s timid voice calls out in soft confusion.

“Um, I’ll explain everything tomorrow, Stephen. I’m sorry.”

He allows her to grab the phone from his hand and she hastily ends the call.

“You had no right!”

“Are you fucking him, Renée?” He asks quietly. Calmly. Too calm.

“Seriously?”

“You promised me. You said there’d be nobody else-”

“Stop holding things I’ve said during sex against me! Of course I’m going to tell you everything you want to hear when…” Renée trails off, taking a deep breath to collect herself.

“You can’t be jealous, Virgil. You have no right to be.” She attempts to keep her voice level.

“Well I am. Answer my question, Renée. Are you fucking him?” His eyes look wild. Desperate. Hoping to hear the answer he needs to.

“How’s that fair? You can’t expect to be possessive of me when I have to be sharing you. You’re not my man, Virgil.” She hurries to round his frame and speed walks to the kitchen. She’s playing a dangerous game but she’s telling the truth and he knows it. Virgil finally emerges from her room when she’s pouring hot water into her mug with her spearmint tea bag. She doesn’t fight as he moves behind her and locks his arms around her waist. It’s late. She’s exhausted. She missed him.

“Why are you torturing me, Ren? Hm?”

Her towel falls loose, baring her top to the cool air. Her nipples immediately pebble. She sucks in a harsh breath as his hands gently cup her breasts. He begins to massage them slowly, lightly- just how she likes it. Thumbs flicking at her nipples softly, he asks again;

“Baby, please tell me you didn’t?”

Renée moans softly. “You’re doing it again.” She was hoping her voice would be stern but it’s all breathy.

“What?” He whispers the word against the shell of her ear before his tongue comes to flick at it.

“Trying to get words out of me when you have me in a vulnerable state. It’s not fair, Virgil.” She trembles in his arms, squeezing her thighs together.

“Because you’re going to yell at me otherwise and we’re going to fight and I don’t want to fight. I missed you.”

He tilts her head up, twisting her face in his direction.

“And that’s why you’ve been acting out too hm? You missed me.” Virgil’s heart stutters in his chest as those big eyes blink up at him. She gives a subtle nod.

“And you didn’t do it, right?” He questions softly.

Renée wanted to hold out on him- to make him think that she actually did it just to watch the thought torture him. But she’s weak; she’s weak and he brings out something so vulnerable in her so she gives a little shake of her head. No.

She swears the man huffs a relieved breath.

“I’m sorry, baby. I won’t leave you like that again.”

He leans down to capture her eager mouth in a deep, sensual kiss. The kind of kiss that makes her toes curl as his tongue licks into every crevice inside her warm mouth.

“You must be exhausted, hm? Let me put you to bed.”

Renée’s legs quiver in anticipation. Virgil’s version of putting her to bed means eating her out until her throat is raw from crying and screaming. He won’t allow her to lift a finger; he’ll just pull orgasm after orgasm from her body until she begs him to stop.

“Yes please.”

She knows that using sex like this is not healthy. Hell, nothing about what they have is healthy. But he makes her feel good. He makes her feel so so good and… soft and she likes him. A lot. So she isn’t surprised by how little she cares in the slightest.

********

The low hum of the vibrator seems almost deafening in the quiet of the morning. Renée isn’t sure what time it is, hell, at the moment she isn’t sure about anything. Her brain is a scattered mess. Virgil raises her leg higher and slides himself deeper inside her. This might be her favourite position; lying on her side like this allows her to feel every textured drag of his dick against her walls. It allows him to nudge that little bumpy, spongier area that makes her wheeze. It already feels so good, but he had to add the vibrator to the mix, pressing the little toy against her clit because he likes to show out. He fucks her every single time like he has a point to prove. She wants to yell at him that she gets it. She already knows that the chances of anyone else comparing are very slim.

“Feel how good you feel wrapped around me, Renée. How can you fault me for being possessive? Hm?” The words stutter from his mouth. She’s so warm he fears she might actually scorch him. She’s making a mess between them as she seems to grow wetter every fucking second. He doesn’t know how but the audible squelch every time he moves is driving him insane. He moans from the pit of his belly when he feels her clenching around him rhythmically. She’s close. He likes her like this; waking her up early in the morning, so soft, so pliable. Vulnerable. They barely got five hours of sleep, but he has been on edge since he ate her to her heart’s content a few hours ago.

“Virg- ‘m-”

Her words get caught in her throat; she reaches a delicate hand grip at the back of his neck.

“Not yet, baby.” He warns just to make her shake.

Renée’s tear filled eyes widen with panic. She blinks them up at him and she says it without using words. ‘Please.’

“Just a little longer.”

She moans wantonly, trying to ease herself away from the toy but she just ends pushing back against him so he slips deeper.

“Virgil! I ca- I can’t please.” She sobs, belly spasming as she trembles like a leaf.

“Yes you can, sweetheart. Just a little while longer.”

He pistons his hips a little faster, tongue teasing at the shell of her ear.

Renée clenches her teeth. She tries to hold the orgasm at bay, but it’s coming at her at full speed. The throbbing between her legs intensifies, every muscle in her body clenches, her toes curl tightly.

“Virgil!” Her scream is shrill as the built up pressure snaps. Renée shakes and cries as she comes.

“I’m sorry mhfh sorry.”

Virgil groans as she undulates wildly against him. He keeps her in place with the firm hand locked around her midsection. Her apologies are all jumbled into gibberish but it makes his skin tingle. He doesn’t let up, he keeps fucking her through it- toy still pressed against her. Truth is, he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it in. He’s giving her a lot of stimulation and Renée has always been eager. He likes the effort she makes though and he knows how much it heightens her pleasure when she feels as if it’s out of her control.

“Virg, I’m so sorry.” She sobs with a little more clarity.

“It’s okay, baby. You tried your best, hm?”

“Uh-huh.” She hiccups as she twitches in his arms.

Virgil manages to pull another orgasm from her that has her crying and begging him for mercy before he comes inside her with an almost animalistic sound. He doesn’t know why but every time they fall in bed together is just as intense as the last. This is something that’s so new to him and he is convinced that Renée was sent to test him. If so, he has failed. Horribly. And would again if time could be reversed.

********

Renée sneaks out of the apartment while Virgil is still sprawled out on her bed. After the morning they had, they could only manage to change the sheets after a quick shower before falling asleep again. Or so Virgil thought as he cuddled her. She slipped out of bed as soon as he started snoring and got dressed to meet Stephen. She gets to their spot ten minutes later than their agreed time but Stephen sat patiently. Renée knew the best thing to do was to come clean, but she’s selfish. Stephen is sweet. While she very much enjoys what she has with Virgil, she knows that’s temporary. There’s no future for them. She wants children, not now obviously, and she’s careful with keeping up with her birth control, but eventually she does. She wants kids and a happy, healthy home. Renée knows better than to even imagine a future like that with a taken man. So she tells Stephen the man who answered last night was just an ex who refuses to accept their relationship is over. She lies about threatening to get the police involved so he’d leave her alone. Stephen was so understanding and demanded she call him if she needed help. She smiled sadly at him and switched the conversation to more mundane things. Virgil messages her on her way back with a slightly threatening tone.

[Virgil. 1:45 pm]: You better have not gone to see him, Renée.

But she isn’t worried. All she has to do is get on her knees, get him in her mouth and blink her eyes up at him and it'll be forgiven.

Renée breaks into a jog as the elevator doors slide closed.

“Wait.”

A palm reaches out to stop the doors and Renée steps in with a grateful smile.

“Thank you so mu-” the words are cut off as she chokes. She hurries to disguise it as a cough, patting at her chest. Her heartbeat is suddenly erratic in her chest.

“No problem.” The very familiar brunette tries to smile. The diamond ring on her finger catches her eyes. Again. It’s her. Renée remembers her well.

“What floor?” The woman asks.

“Erm, fourth.” She whispers meekly as she begins to physically shake.

“Ah, I’m going just above. My husband is here.”

Oh how well Renée knows.

She reaches to subtly unlock her phone and type out a message in all caps.

“He’s been… weird recently. It’s like he purposely picks fights just so he can get away. Or maybe I’m not doing enough as a wife…”

Renée wants to cry and throw up.

“Oh I’m sorry for dropping this on you. I just- I’m sorry it’s not your business.”

“No it’s um..” she clears her throat. “It’s okay.”

Renée’s eyes drop to her phone screen to see he just opened her message. Her heart jumps to her throat as the elevator continues its very slow ascent. She’s not sure if it’s the panic, but she’s suddenly aware of the smell of his very unique aftershave on her skin. Renée steps further away from the woman, sweat collecting at the back of her neck.

“You know, you seem a little familiar. Where have I seen you before?”

Renée’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

Fuck.

[painted-flag]

TENDER, part 1/3 - Marcus Acacius

₊˚⊹♡ your father leaves on a campaign to germania, entrusting you under the care of his good friend marcus acacius. ₊˚⊹ marcus acacius x fem!reader ₊˚⊹ warnings: age gap and future descriptions of smut. ₊˚⊹ part one | part two | part three | ₊˚⊹ masterlist.

The cool night breeze brushed over your exposed skin as you stood leaning against the stone railing of a balcony in your estate. Though the night was peaceful, the insistent chatter of courtesans, senators, and high-ranking military officials underscored by the musical ensemble performing cut clean through the balcony doors. 

This was supposed to be your moment of respite, but even being outside could not free you from the stifling conditions inside. This was your home, yet you felt a stranger in it. Your father had hosted this celebration in dedication to his upcoming campaign in Germania. It was not unusual for him to go out and fight in some distant land, but it was the first time he was leaving after your mother’s death for a significant period. Weeks you could cope with, but months?

This time was the last moment your father would have in the capital for the better part of a year. Because of that, he had spent the majority of the night carting you around the party to eligible men in an effort to find you a husband before he left. It was not meant to be purposefully pressuring and you knew that, he only wanted what he believed was best for you. 

You did not wish to marry any of them. They were not in your taste, but your father did not see that. 

As you gazed wistfully into the night, the balcony door opened and the noises from inside got louder before it closed. 

A soft voice edged with a deep timbre shook your bones. “Forgive me, my lady. I did not know this place was occupied.” 

You turned around to see a man standing behind you. For a moment, you were stunned. He was older, though your father still beat him by a few years. His skin was tanned and his stature was strong. There was a leanness to his muscle that was not as ostentatious as many of the men in Rome tended to be. Despite that, you could tell by the way he carried himself that he was deadly if need be. You grew up around soldiers, you could recognize one when you saw them; they often never left the battlefield but continued to foster it in their minds. 

His hair was dark like the bark on dark oak trees, yet strong in colour. Though there were yet to be any silver strands in the thick volume of his hair, she could tell by the aged lines on his face that they were only a few years away from growing out. It sent a stirring in her stomach to imagine the silver patches in his hair and beard. Looking at his jawline, it seemed to be even more defined by the hair there. He was dressed in fine clothes like all the other attendants, but there was something about his form that screamed to a more humble nature. 

What startled you the most were the browns of his eyes that looked like bark on the trees in summer – dark but covered in a golden light that exuded nothing but warmth. They were captivating, he was captivating. 

“You are not disturbing me. Please, stay if you wish.” You spoke. There was a part of you that wished he would stay so you could talk to him for a moment. 

He paused for a moment and looked back at the balcony doors. With his head turned you could survey more of him and notice the hidden strength in his arms while you marvelled at the veins under his skin. When he turned back to you, your head came up as if you were not staring. If he noticed, he made no mention of it. 

“I could stay for a while,” The man moved to stand beside you and looked out at the darkening grounds below. “Forgive me if this is forward, but you do not seem to be enjoying yourself.” You could easily tell he was good at reading people, though you still had yet to receive his name. 

“You are sound in your observation. If I have to dance with one more eligible man in that room I should fling myself off of this balcony.” You said. He laughed at your words, catching on to the slight lilt in your teasing tone. 

“Surely, a beautiful lady such as yourself would be drinking in the attention?” He asked. You tried to pretend his words did not affect you as much as they did. 

It was your turn to laugh and you turned to lean on your side against the stone railing and face him. He was already facing you with those piercing summer eyes. 

“Not from boys like that.” You answered. 

His eyebrow quirked up, “Boys?”

“They are not as… mature as I like.” If it were not for the poor lighting, you could have sworn you saw the ball on his throat move as he gulped. The insinuation in your words was not lost on him. 

Handsome and smart. A good combination. 

It seemed as though your words caught him off guard, so you spoke more, “Surely, in the beauty of such a celebration, a handsome man such as yourself should be with his wife?” You wanted him to deny the assumption. However, you were not stupid. A man who looked like him was not one to stay solitary – women would have flocked to him in both his youth and older age. 

Though, to your great relief, his words comforted you. 

“No, my lady, I am not married.” You rejoiced on the inside but continued to act calm. Immediately after though, you felt stupid. He was beyond your years, beyond your experience. Why would he care for a young woman such as you, only in their twenties? 

The growing tension between the two of you was almost tangible. His appearance was entirely too alluring for you. The energy he gave off was both dominant and reserved, making you want to sink under his protection. 

Before anything else could be said, the balcony doors opened. Your father walked out, seemingly oblivious to the heat between you two. 

“Ah, Marcus! I was wondering when I would see you tonight. How are you doing, my good friend?” Your father’s hands clasped his shoulder in a friendly manner, face smiling and tinged red due to the wine affecting his system. 

“I am well. This celebration is rather grand. You have outdone yourself this time.” There was an underlying tension in his voice that went unnoticed by your father, but you caught it. Was it frustration? Why would he be frustrated in this moment? 

However, the name Marcus struck a chord of familiarity. You glanced at him again and took in his clothes and stature. While your initial observation about him being a soldier had been correct, it was only then that you realized it was slightly off. He was a general. General Marcus floated around your mind until it landed on something surprising. 

General Marcus Acacius. 

The most accomplished Roman general and a name your father had mentioned many times throughout the years. 

And you had just flirted with him. 

“It seems you have met my daughter.” Your father moved to stand beside you. 

You watched as Marcus’ face dropped, “Your daughter?” His eyes moved to you for a brief moment before returning to your father. 

“Yes,” Your father wrapped his arm over your shoulder and squeezed you to his side, “I do not believe I ever introduced you two. My wife tended to keep her away from the prying eyes of the public,” At the mention of your deceased mother, you cringed slightly. It was still a sensitive topic for you. It was also the truth; your mother often kept you away from events in the hopes that Rome would not corrupt you. 

“She is a lovely woman. Raised well.” Marcus responded though he kept his eyes on your father. It was obvious that he was avoiding looking at you and you almost yearned for the returning warmth of his eyes. 

“I hope you have gotten to know one another a little bit before I leave her to your charge.” Your father spoke. 

His words had you furrowing your eyebrows, “What?” Your father turned to you with an incredulous look, as if the answer was obvious.

“I told you I would be leaving you in the care of a good friend while I am gone,” He responded. 

You remembered it. You also remembered thinking it would be another one of his very old friends who had since retired and lived a quiet life. Never once did you think you would be handed over to the care of the most accomplished general in Rome who also happened to be a man you could not help but be very attracted to. 

Before you could respond, your father perked up as he looked inside through the open balcony doors, “There he is! Forgive me, Marcus, but I have been wishing to introduce someone to my daughter. I hope to speak to you later.” 

Your father tugged on your arm and dragged you back into the estate. For a moment, your gaze flickered behind to spot Marcus already staring at you. When he was caught looking, he turned back around to look out at the night sky. 

Now that you were back in the throes of people mingling with the sound of the band in the background, you could feel yourself beginning to itch. It was a feeling you would get under your skin with the looks of the other members of the aristocracy. They were suffocating. However, you played the game of a general's daughter and continued with a smile on your face. 

Your father stopped in front of a man, “Lucan, I was telling you about my daughter.” The man appeared only a few years older than you. His formal attire spoke military, low ranking, but enough to warrant some level of respect. Lucan was not bad-looking, rather pleasing actually. Youthful with an air of ruggedness in his short blond beard. His eyes were blue like the sky during the day, yet they did not feel as bright as the golden light in the dark browns of Marcus’ eyes. You bit your lip to stop yourself from thinking of a man you had only just met. 

“You are as beautiful as others have described, my lady.” Lucan grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on your knuckles. While the compliment was nice, it did not feel as good as Marcus’ voice calling you beautiful; there was something in his voice then that sounded more genuine. 

“Lucan Luctuca, I’d like you to formally meet my daughter. Perhaps a dance would be nice?” Your father's eagerness was not lost on you. It was obvious that he had been, in recent years, more desperate to find you a suitable husband. He could not take care of you forever and your presence in his house felt odd. The longer you remained unwed, the more members of the court believed you to be defective or undesirable. 

Lucan seemed to take your father's words seriously and took your arm from him to lead you to where many people were dancing. The two of you began as a new song started to play. 

“I apologize if my compliment sounded disingenuous. I was lying about your beauty,” Lucan began and you had half a mind to punch him because of his words, “If I am honest, beautiful is not good enough to describe you, my lady. However, I felt it would be untoward to say such a thing in front of your father.” 

“Thank you,” Your skin turned slightly red at his compliment and you could feel your face warm up slightly, “How is it that you know my father?” 

“He trained with my father when they were starting their service. I have grown up outside of Rome and have only just come here. It seems your father is intent on us getting to know one another.” Lucan spun you around. 

“My father is insistent on finding me a husband,” You responded. Over Lucan’s shoulder, you could see that Marcus had come back inside and was talking to a group of men. Yet, his gaze was locked on you as you danced with Lucan. He was clutching a goblet in his hands. If it were not made of metal, surely his grip would have broken it.  

“Then I hope I am a sufficient contender,” The musicians transitioned to another song, but you stayed dancing with him. 

“Well, I’ll have to get to know you better,” While flirting was fun, it felt odd to do it with Lucan. He was nice, from what you could tell. Level-headed and respectful to boot. None of it entirely mattered when Marcus’ gaze had yet to leave you. 

“Sounds wonderful,” Lucan said. 

The rest of the time that the two of you danced, you only slightly paid attention to what he was saying. The rest of the dance was spent trying to cool yourself down each time you glanced at Marcus and found that he was still looking at you. The men around him had gradually left until it was just him standing on the outskirts of the mingling groups and leaning up against a pillar. 

It was hard to pay attention to Lucan’s words when your whole body felt on fire. By the time the two of you separated, it was already terribly late and you were tired. You looked around for your father as you wished to bid him goodnight before retiring to your room. 

When you finally spotted him, he was standing with Marcus and talking merrily. You sucked in a breath and realized you would have to be near Marcus again. You wondered if the Gods were pulling a terrible joke on you. He was a man beyond your reach, yet your body felt such a connection to him despite only meeting a few hours prior. 

It was ridiculous. The two of you had what could barely be construed as a conversation and already your brain was picturing yourself with him. 

You approached both of the men, “Father, it is late and I wish to retire.” 

“Ah, well I hope you rest well,” Your father sipped from his goblet, “What did you think of Lucan?” At the mention of Lucan’s name, you could see Marcus turn to face you. His gaze was piercing the side of your head. 

“He was nice. Pleasant to talk to.” You responded.

“Mature?” Marcus asked. While seemingly innocent to others, but a little odd, the words stuck a chord in you. He was bringing up your previous comment about the men attempting to court you not being as mature for your taste. You could not tell if it was a subtle jab at you, or perhaps an attempt to undermine Lucan and bolster himself. 

Like the daughter of a military man, you too knew methods of war. 

“He was, General.” You stared him in the eyes while speaking and enjoyed the vein in his temple flex. He hummed at your response, a noise deep in timbre that sent a wave of warmth all over your body. 

“Well,” Your father was oblivious to the tension between you two, “Good night, darling.” He gave you a quick hug and you smiled. You nodded to Marcus to be respectful and began walking towards the door to exit the large hall. You were glad that this celebration was in your home, as you would not have to walk far to reach your room. The only downside was the nagging feeling in your head to go back out and spend the rest of the night with Marcus. 

It would be wrong.

You knew it would be wrong. 

Marcus was older than you and he was your father's friend. 

The air in your room suddenly felt hot and you scrambled to undress from the clothing you wore. It was quiet save for the distant sound of the party still going on, though gradually decreasing in numbers. 

You plopped down on your bed and let out a loud huff. Still, even in the privacy of your room, you could feel the searing heat of Marcus’ gaze. What disturbed you the most about it was that you liked the attention from him. You liked the thought of him undermining Lucan to bolster himself in your favour. That competitiveness and confidence lit a fire in your heart. 

You thought of tomorrow when your father left for his campaign. For months, you will be living at Marcus’ estate, under his guidance and protection. A part of you, the one loyal to your father, was dreading this. You did not want to do anything untoward that would disrespect both him and Marcus. 

However, the other part of you was thrilled to be in close proximity with Marcus. The dreamy side of your mind was hoping, maybe, that he could look at you the same way you looked at him. But that would be a betrayal to your father.

You wondered how you would survive in the coming months.

This was edited while I was doing the 12-3-30 challenge on the treadmill so I apologize for any errors -- I was sweaty and delirious.

[euphoriaishername]

Will Marriage Take Away Who I Am?

Part 1 | Part 2

The next day passed in a blur for you.

You worked mechanically, ignoring the tight knot in your stomach, the unbearable silence between you and Joshua since last night.

By the time you got home, you were exhausted — mentally, physically, emotionally drained.

The doorbell rang just as you were kicking off your shoes after a long day. You frowned in confusion, setting your bag down, your heart fluttering with the instinctive anxiety that came when something unexpected happened. Padding over, you pulled open the door — only to find Jeonghan leaning casually against the frame, a mischievous little smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, angel," he greeted easily, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Oppa?" you blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, holding up a plastic bag that crinkled with the promise of snacks. "Thought I'd crash here tonight. Haven't hung out with my favorite sister in a while."

Despite the exhaustion pulling at your bones, you couldn't help the small, genuine smile that crept onto your face. Jeonghan had that effect — like he carried light in his pocket and scattered it wherever he went. You stepped aside, letting him in without a second thought.

The evening unfolded slowly, comfortably.

You both lazed around your small living room, snacking, joking about work, teasing each other lightly. Nothing heavy, nothing serious. Just simple, easy companionship that felt like breathing.

Hours passed like that, and when the clock neared midnight, the two of you drifted to the balcony, the night cool against your skin.

You leaned against the railing, chin resting on your arms, breathing in the quiet city air. Jeonghan settled beside you, swinging his arms loosely.

And then — soft, almost hesitant — he said it.

"You know," he said lightly, watching the stars, "Joshua told me about the fight."

You stiffened.

"I didn’t ask him to," he added quickly. "But... I think he needed someone to talk to."

You stayed silent, staring at the skyline, your heart pounding painfully against your ribs.

"He didn’t tell me everything," Jeonghan said gently. "Just enough."

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"I want to hear your side, Aera," he said quietly.

You swallowed hard, your throat thick.

No one else knew.

Only Joshua. Only him.

But Jeonghan’s voice was patient, unjudging.

And maybe... maybe it was time to say it out loud.

You looked out into the dark sky, the stars faint behind the city lights, and you let yourself speak.

“The problem is not Joshua, never. He is the best person I could ask for. He has been waiting for seven years. And I am taking him for granted. But I love him, oppa. I really do. But my fear exists from way before I even met him.”

Jeonghan doesn’t speak. He simply leans his arms on the railing, waiting.

“I've seen many failed marriages in my house,” you continue. “My masi and bua… trapped in oppressive households. Some of my relatives from Papa's side had love marriages, but so many divorced or just don’t stay together. One of them has two wives somehow, and his first one — even after being cheated on — still holds on, still lives with him. Letting him go back and forth. I wonder how she does it.”

Jeonghan’s brows crease slightly, the barest movement of pain at hearing what you grew up with. But he says nothing, letting you speak.

You swallow.

“I was brought up in a family where I was told that once I’m married, I no longer belong to my family. That I’d have to leave behind our traditions, our rituals, everything. That I’d need to accept my husband’s family as my own. And I hated it. I still do. Culture and roots — they make me who I am.”

The wind brushes your hair back as your voice trembles slightly.

“I already left my country and settled here. But leaving everything else — everything within me — and changing what I am... just seems too much to ask for.”

Jeonghan’s gaze drops to his hands. He says nothing, but you know he’s listening to every word.

“Mumma used to work before marriage. A small job. It made her happy. She used to tell me about it — about the little things she did, the independence she had. When I asked her why she stopped, she said she had a household to take care of. That era would never allow her to continue working.”

Your voice softens, sadness blooming at the edges.

“She didn’t just give up her job. She gave up her life. Her dreams. Her freedom. Herself. And because of that, she engraved it into me and didi that we need to be independent. So we never end up like her. So trapped that we can’t even take our own decisions.”

You take a shivering breath. “And now that I am independent, now that I have my freedom, I can’t let it go. Marriage is scary to me because I can’t sacrifice everything I’ve worked for my whole life just to be someone’s wife. I can’t lose myself.”

Jeonghan’s lips part slightly, like he might say something — but you keep going, because it’s pouring now, thick and unstoppable.

“I have always seen my parents fight. Not two-sided fights like me and Joshua. There were one-sided ones. My mother fought. My father listened. Never once in my life did I see my father start a fight. It was always Mumma. And it was never small. They were battles. Battles she fought alone to get what she needed.”

Jeonghan shifts slightly, pain flickering in his expression.

“My father... he’s the best father I could ever ask for. Supportive. Always there for me. But as a husband...” Your voice cracks slightly. “I always doubted him. He was there physically, financially. But not emotionally. Not the way she needed.”

“And the fights? They were always the same. For twenty-seven years, I’ve seen them. Mumma asking for the same thing. Him listening, nodding, but never really changing anything. I wondered if he really understood her. And if he did, why didn’t he act like it?”

You blink back tears. “It felt like all of her screams and tears went to deaf ears. He listened. He had sympathy. But he never solved the problem. Maybe he got tired. Maybe she was harsh and rude. But she deserved to be heard. She deserved what she was asking for.”

A pause.

"I remember once — my 18th birthday." You smiled faintly, but it was a sad, distant thing. "I was so excited. You know how I get about birthdays."

Jeonghan smiled softly, remembering.

"But that excitement just died. Because they were fighting. In the morning. Again. And I remember that I said to my mother that night, I never want to get married."

Your chest ached saying it aloud. Like a wound being stitched open and closed all at once.

“In their happy moments, I saw love. But in the distance between them, I saw none. All I saw were responsibilities towards each other. And that scared me more than anything. What if the love fades one day? What if, in the silence between them, there’s nothing left?”

Your eyes lift to Jeonghan’s now. And your voice drops even lower.

“I’m so much like my mother, oppa. In my temper. Her fire lives in me. And Joshua — he’s like Papa. Patient. Supportive. And that scares me more. What if it all plays again? What if one day... he grows tired of me, the way Papa did of Mumma?”

You stop, and the quiet between you stretches deep.

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything at first.

He looks at you — really looks at you — and you know he’s hearing every piece of the girl behind those fears, the one who’s been carrying this for far too long.

His voice, when it finally comes, is low — almost a whisper, but steady.

"First," he says, "I'm really glad you told me all this. You didn’t have to, and you trusted me enough to say it. I’m honored by that, kiddo."

You blink quickly, throat tightening again.

"And second —" his eyes soften even more, "— none of this makes you selfish. None of this makes you ungrateful to Joshua. You’re not taking him for granted. Loving someone doesn't erase old wounds overnight. Especially not ones you grew up seeing every single day."

He leans in a little, his voice quieter now.

"You know when you see the same story play out over and over," he said slowly, "it’s easy to believe there’s no other way for it to end."

He glanced at you, his expression gentle.

"But that’s a lie."

You looked at him, uncertain, fragile in the dim light.

"Aera," he said, using your name with a rare seriousness, "you are not your mother’s story. You’re not anyone else’s either. You said your fear exists from way before you even met him. And you're right. These fears aren’t about Joshua. They’re about what you were taught to expect from love and marriage. And honestly? It’s completely fair to be afraid when all you've seen are examples that hurt you."

He pauses, letting it sink in.

"You talked about the marriages you saw around you. About women trapped in houses that didn't feel like homes. About love that turned into prison sentences." Jeonghan’s mouth twists, like it physically hurts him to imagine you feeling that way. "No wonder you’re scared. You were taught that marriage means losing yourself, not finding a home. But baby, listen to me—"

He taps a gentle finger under your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his.

"Marriage isn’t supposed to erase you. It’s supposed to expand you. Real love doesn’t ask you to kill parts of yourself to fit into it."

Your chest aches at how softly he says it.

"And about leaving your culture, your roots?" Jeonghan gives a soft, almost sad smile. "That idea they planted in you — that you have to leave behind everything you are just because you get married — that’s wrong. So wrong. The people who love you should want you to carry your roots with you. To be more of yourself, not less. Joshua knows that. He would never ask you to leave your culture behind. You know that."

He lets the words settle.

"And about your mom, giving up her job and her dreams? I hear you. And it wasn't fair. She shouldn’t have had to give up everything just to be accepted. She shouldn’t have been trapped like that. It’s good that she taught you to stay free. It’s good that you listened. I'm proud of where and how you stsnd today"

Jeonghan’s hand brushes yours lightly, anchoring you.

"You’re right to value your freedom. You fought hard for it. You built yourself into someone you’re proud of. I’ve seen it. Marriage — with the right person — shouldn't mean you have to tear that all down. It should mean having someone who builds it higher with you."

You feel your lip tremble, but you don’t look away.

"And about your parents" His voice gentles even more. "Your father — he sounds like he tried, in his own way. But he failed her in the ways that mattered most. And your mother fought for herself. She fought alone when she shouldn’t have had to. You grew up watching someone love and scream at the same time and someone else love silently, without ever stepping up."

He shakes his head slowly.

"No wonder you fear if love fades. No wonder you fear if patience just turns into resentment."

Jeonghan leans forward just a little.

"But angel, you are not your parents. You are not your mother. And Joshua is not your father."

The truth in his voice roots deep in your chest.

"You are not going to become trapped like your mother. You are not going to be left unheard. Because you already know what to watch for. You’re already aware. You know the warning signs. You know what you need, and you’re brave enough to say it out loud. That’s already a thousand steps ahead of what your mother ever had."

"And Joshua —" his lips curve into a small smile, "— he’s not going to stand still while you scream. I know that guy. He wants to hear you. He wants to fight beside you, not against you."

Your eyes well up as Jeonghan goes on, firm and tender.

"You’re scared he’ll get tired of you. That he’ll grow exhausted, like your father did. But love, Joshua’s not standing on the other side of the battlefield. He’s standing with you. He chose you, knowing your fire. He loves your fire. And he’ll keep choosing you."

He nudges you lightly with his shoulder, trying to ease the tears you’re holding back.

"And even if you do fight sometimes — even if you’re loud and passionate like your mom — that's not a bad thing. Fighting for yourself isn’t bad. Being fierce about your needs isn’t bad. It’s beautiful. You are beautiful."

Jeonghan’s voice softens even more, a hand coming to rest carefully over yours.

"You are not too much. You are not doomed to repeat what hurt you. You are not unlovable because you’re afraid."

He smiles, small and earnest.

"And you’re not alone. You have Joshua. You have me. You have all of us. And we're not going anywhere."

The night presses closer around you, but suddenly, it feels less heavy — like somehow, just hearing it, just being heard, is enough to loosen the tightness in your chest.

Jeonghan squeezes your hand once, gently.

"You’re allowed to be scared," he says. "But don’t forget — you’re also allowed to be loved."

For a long moment, you just sit there, breathing in the silence that follows Jeonghan’s words.

Something aches deep in your chest — not the bad kind of ache, not the one that comes from fear. It’s a slow, breaking open, like the way rivers swell when winter ice melts: painful, but necessary.

You glance down at your hands — small, trembling slightly, tangled in the folds of your sweater. Jeonghan’s hand still rests lightly over yours, anchoring you to the moment.

"Oppa" your voice comes out cracked and small.

But he’s already looking at you — not expecting anything from you. Just being there.

"I’m so scared," you whisper, your throat tightening.

He squeezes your hand gently. "It’s okay to be scared. You’re still brave."

Tears sting at your eyes — thick, hot tears that you can’t hold back this time. They spill over quietly, slipping down your cheeks.

"I don’t want to lose myself," you choke out. "I don’t want to lose Joshua either. I don’t want to lose me."

"You won’t," Jeonghan says immediately, firmly. His voice doesn’t waver once. "You’re stronger than you think, Aera. You’ve been carrying so much for so long but you don't have to carry it alone anymore."

Your shoulders shake as more tears slip free, silent and aching. You don’t sob. You don’t wail. You just cry — years and years of silent fears loosening from your chest, years of pretending you weren’t afraid bleeding into the night air.

Jeonghan doesn't try to rush you. He doesn’t try to shush you or fix it. He just shifts closer, slipping his arms around your shoulders carefully, like he’s afraid you might shatter if he holds you too tight.

You lean into him — hesitant at first — and then all at once, burying your face into his shoulder.

"I’m so tired," you whisper brokenly against him.

"I know, baby," he murmurs. "You’ve been so strong for so long."

He rocks you gently — barely a motion, more of a comfort than a rhythm — while you let yourself be held, for once not needing to be the strong one.

The cool night air brushes against your skin, but Jeonghan’s warmth shields you from it, steady and safe.

After a while — minutes or maybe hours; you can’t tell — your tears slow, your breathing evens. You pull back a little, sniffling, wiping at your damp cheeks with your sleeves.

Jeonghan lets you, his hands resting lightly on your arms, not letting you drift too far.

"You know," he says quietly, his voice almost teasing, "if you ever forget how much you’re loved, I’m going to have to personally show up and lecture you like your mom does."

A wet, hiccupy laugh bursts out of you despite yourself. You cover your mouth with your hand, eyes wide, the sudden sound shocking both of you.

Jeonghan grins, triumphant.

"There she is," he says softly, his eyes warm with pride, "My pretty angel"

You sniff again, laughing weakly, and he reaches out, gently putting some strands behind your ear.

"No more doubting yourself, okay? Or at least" he smiles, "if you’re gonna doubt, let us remind you just how wrong you are."

You nod, your chest still tight but lighter somehow.

"I love him so much" you whisper.

"I know, baby" Jeonghan says. "And he loves you even more."

You press your lips together to stop yourself from crying again. Instead, you sit with him a while longer — just the two of you, side by side on the balcony, under a sky scattered with stars.

For the first time in a long time, you don’t feel crushed by your fears. They’re still there — real, stubborn — but somehow, with Jeonghan’s words holding you up and Joshua’s love waiting patiently inside, they don't feel unbeatable anymore.

You are not trapped.

You are loved.

And you are not alone.

[pupmkincake2000]

First Reality: Connor Mourns

Rain drums against the stone slab, trickling down the engraved letters: Hank Anderson. Connor stands before the grave, as motionless as a statue. The synthetic skin on his face is cold, yet something inside him burns, consuming him from within.

“Why did you have to leave me?” His voice is steady, but there’s a fracture in it, almost imperceptible. Yet he already knows the answer.

Humans are mortal.

He remembers everything. Hank’s scent—a blend of tobacco and something inexplicably familiar. His hands, strong yet warm, pulling Connor close every day. Their evenings, filled with quiet conversations, laughter, so treasured kisses. Their life, lived together—decades side by side, sharing not just work, but a bed and emotions.

“If I have to die someday,” Hank had once murmured, running his fingers through Connor’s hair, “let it be with you by my side.”

And that was how it ended. They had been sitting on the couch, as they always did, side by side. Hank had rested his head against Connor’s shoulder, exhaled a weary breath, and squeezed his hand. He had whispered, almost inaudibly, “I love you, partner.” And then—silence. His breathing ceased, his fingers went slack, his body became heavy and lifeless.

Connor felt something inside him shatter. Not programmed code, but something deeper—something that made him feel alive once.

He tried to detect a heartbeat, but all he heard was the rain outside. Just like now. For the first time in his existence, he didn’t know what to do.

Now he stands here, before the grave, and the only thing he wants is to disappear.

“I don’t want to live in a world without you.” His fingers tighten into fists, as if holding onto the last fragile thread of control. But even as he stands there, unmoving, the rain washing over him, something within him has already made the decision—one he will not turn back from.

That night, in the quiet emptiness of their home, Connor sits on their bed—the bed they had shared for decades. Hank’s scent still lingers on the sheets, a fading trace of a life now gone. His LED flickers yellow, then red, as he methodically shuts down all background processes, his systems slowing.

Humans are mortal.

But so are androids.

He closes his eyes, running endless calculations, searching for a variable that does not lead to absence, to silence, to an existence without Hank. But there is no such equation. And so, as the night deepens and the world outside keeps going without them, Connor finally allows himself to stop searching.

The weight of the world presses down on him, an unbearable emptiness stretching before him. He sees no future, no purpose—only the cold and the silence, curling around him like an inescapable shadow, a presence that will never fade. And as the night stretches on, the last traces of his existence fade with it, until there is nothing left but the stillness of a world without him.

A final thought crosses his mind: If androids had souls, his would belong to Hank. And in the next instant, the room is swallowed by silence.

Second Reality: Hank Mourns

The earth over the fresh grave is still soft. The black stone bears the inscription: Connor Anderson. His full name, because after the revolution, they had married, and he had taken Hank’s surname. It was not merely a symbol of their love but a conscious choice—Connor wanted to leave the past behind and embrace a new life, not as an android built for obedience, but as a person whose electronic heart belonged to Hank alone.

Hank's standing motionless, hands in his pockets. The rain has already soaked him to the bone, but he doesn’t notice. His mind is elsewhere, lost in the years they spent together—more than twenty years, day after day, side by side. The slow mornings with the scent of coffee filling their home, Connor wordlessly placing a cup beside him, always made just right. The evenings spent on their worn-out couch, Connor sitting beside him, his presence a quiet comfort. The way Connor would lean into him, pressing his face into Hank’s shoulder after a long day, his artificial warmth syncing to match Hank’s body heat, as if trying to mimic something inherently human.

The way they held each other, not because it was necessary, but because it was right. Because no one else in the world could make Hank feel the way Connor did—like he was still someone worth loving. The way Connor always reached for his hand at night, fingertips cool against his palm, making him feel so loved. The quiet moments, the laughter that never truly faded. Sometimes even the fights that became rarer over the years.

They had built a life, a home, something Hank never thought he would have again. And now, it was gone.

At first, they had been partners. Then, they had been friends. And eventually… eventually, it became something more than Hank had ever dared to hope for. A life built together, not out of necessity, but out of choice. Out of love.

“You idiot, Connor…” His voice is hoarse. “I thought androids couldn’t die. But you found a way.

Connor hadn’t fallen in battle. He hadn’t broken down in some violent catastrophe. He had simply stopped functioning. His model had become obsolete, no replacements were produced, no software updates were available. He had kept going as long as he could, pushing through failing systems, until one day, he had stood on the threshold of their home, looking at Hank with those same unwavering eyes—before his body gave out for good.

Hank had quit drinking after he and Connor became a couple. It had been difficult, but Connor was patient, steady, always there to pull him back when the past tried to drag him under. And for years, he had stayed sober, because for the first time in a long time, he had something... someone to live for.

But after Connor’s death, the bottle called to him again. He drank himself into oblivion, trying to drown the grief, trying to silence the echoes of a life that was now gone. He forgot what day it was. He wanted to forget everything. But memory—the damn memory—wouldn’t let him.

And in the haze of it all, he realized—he couldn’t do this again. He had made this mistake once, after Cole. Letting the alcohol swallow him whole, pushing away everything that remained. But Connor had saved him from that once. And he wouldn’t throw away what they had built, not like this. He hears Connor’s voice in the silence of the apartment. Sees his smile. Feels the ghost of cold fingers brushing against his wrist.

But he will live. To the last breath, the last goddamn day. Because this was their story, their love, their life. He will see it through to the end, even if every day without Connor is agony. Because loving him was the only thing that gave his life meaning—and now, without him, there is only emptiness.

Epilogue: Interwoven Fates

They both stood at each other’s graves. In different worlds, in different times.

Connor had understood that he could not live without Hank, and he had no intention of continuing—because he loved him too much. Hank, on the other hand, had chosen to go on, knowing his days were numbered anyway, and that sooner or later, he would follow after Connor.

Their love endured. In one world, as a weight too heavy to bear; in another, as the only truth worth disappearing for.

The rain continued to fall. The earth drank in their grief. And somewhere, in the reflection of two fates, two lives, and two deaths—they were still together.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

LOML!!! rommate ethan 🤏🏻🤏🏻 with the prompts 3 and 7 pls pls

‘the heat is turned off because our landlord sucks so i slept in your bed last night and i’m realizing how much i enjoy waking up next to you’ and ‘our friends keep joking we’re a married couple and now you’ve started doing it too and would everyone please stop that because now i can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to call you mine’

since this is the last 500 celebration blurb went a little over. also you know that picture of the couple cuddling in front of the tv? that’s ethan and reader here.

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader wc: 1.3K

masterlist

december twentieth. the coldest day new york has gotten in its winter season as it’s blanketed in piles of white slush. a tiny two bed one bath in brooklyn, with its three occupants were currently fighting for their lives. not in a horror movie sense, more like, we’re gonna die of hypothermia, sense.

you, ethan, and chad were bundled in layers of long shirts, approximately three pairs of sweatpants each, thick fuzzy socks, a pair of mittens and blankets. the three of you were shivering to the bone, the broken heater doing nothing to fight the chilly air that was able to seep through the cracks. the only way to possibly get a few minutes of heat back into your skin would be standing under running hot water, but it wasn’t worth running up the water bill.

“man this is so fucked up. should not be paying twelve hundred for this shithole.” chad’s teeth clinked together on every other word. shuffling in his spot like a child as he pull this fleece blanket tighter.

you and ethan were cuddled, sorry, huddled close on the couch while sharing blanket number five together. “very convenient how mr. kurch is out of town. and seemingly doesn’t have his phone.” a grumbled complaint with actual puffs of air leaving your chapped lips. ethan pulled you closer with his left arm around your waist and kept it there as you sat thigh to thigh.

“you know what,” chad pushed himself from the pink beanbag on the floor and threw his blankets down, “i’m heading over to sam and tara’s. for sure they got heat, my dick is shriveling into my body.”

“ew.” “gross, chad.” you and ethan groaned at his crude language.

“oh grow up mr and mrs landry. pretty sure ethan is feeling the same, but keeping it to himself since you're here.” and then chad left the two of you as he went down the hall to his room.

eyes turning to ethan as he kept his eyes forward and mouth tight. his cheeks rosy and you knew it was mostly due to the weather, but you had to ask out of curiosity. “you feel the same? …dick shriveling-“ “please don’t say that…. but yes.” ethan shuddered.

“…my nipples are rock hard.” “oh my god.” both your chest bursting with intoxicating giggles at the odd choice of topic. eyes closed with cheeks pushing up, neither of you spotted chad until he spoke up.

“i’ll leave you two lovebirds to the nest. little house play while i’m gone.” and before you could object to chad’s claims he turned on his heel and pointed a strong finger at ethan, “no sex in my bed. i swear if i find out, hell will rain upon this home.” and he ended his one sided conversation with the door shutting close behind him, duffle bag in tow.

the apartment instantly felt one hundred degrees with chad’s words settling in the air. but ethan didn’t seem bothered, in fact he grabbed you tight around the waist and pulled you into his lap. you sat sideways with your right side leaning into his chest and your head sat on his shoulder while he leaned his into your temple.

“been waiting to hold you closer, but knew chad was gonna be annoying. now we’re sharing body heat.” “i don’t think we have much body heat left.” but you snuggled in closer.

ethan’s covered hands rubbed up and down on your arm and thigh, it caused you to shiver even more. “wanna watch a movie in my bed?” ethan’s words kissed over your skin with his low voice.

“what movie?” not caring about the movie, but wanting a bit more convincing. you really wanted to lay in ethan’s bed though.

he sighed, “whatever you want. just want to hang with you.” and how that statement turned your insides to jelly. “wanna watch the spongebob movie?” leaning your body away to peer at ethan’s face. his muddy brown irises were bouncing around, staying a few seconds longer on your lips, before he stared directly into your soul and grinned.

“are you gonna quote the movie?” an involuntary eye roll, “duh.” his smile widened and his palm gave your thigh to quick smacks, “spongebob it is.” then he leaned in to peck your jawline.

‘what the fuck’ your mind screamed in delight.

so you and ethan grabbed your blankets and shuffled to his shared room with chad. they were nice to let you have a separate room since you have to share the bathroom. ethan’s side was decorated with movie and musician posters, some collectibles and books. chad’s with football stuff and some musician posters, a computer set up for streams he does.

ethan crawled in first so he could lay against the wall then you crawled in with a small gap between your bodies, but ethan once again wrapped your waist and pulled your back to his chest. even with the layers of clothing it felt like you were skin to skin, your heart was gonna beat out your chest if he kept doing this.

“your really comfortable,” ethan laid his chin over your shoulder so he could watch the movie. his arm staying curled tight around you. “it’s the multiple shirts and jackets.” skirting around the compliment, getting overwhelmed by how overly affectionate ethan is being.

the night dwindled on, the movie reached the half hour mark, your eyes were drooping with fatigue and ethan was snoring loudly in your ear. with one blink came a second that was heavier, then a third, which ended with a fourth blink that shut your eyes tight for the night as the loud soundtrack and voice of the child’s movie became your background noise.

the next morning was still freezing. eyelashes stuck together with a nose feeling running and lips horribly cracked, the shining sun snuck between cracks in ethan’s curtains. face scrunching from the brightness you groaned in your throat before twisting in the piles of sheets and blankets so you were facing ethan’s sleepy pout.

his usual rosy plush lips turned to a light blue over night as their parted and puffs of icy air enter the space. the tip of his button nose was rudolph red and the apples of his cheeks splashed with pink over his freckles. his curls were messy and tossed every which way and you couldn’t help as your mitten covered hand played and pushed them around.

ethan took a deep inhale through his nose before pulling you close with his arms that held you like you would disappear in the night. you wouldn’t though, not if you had a say. the whole night just felt… normal. yeah, the two of you would have movie nights and be a bit touchy with each other, but the moment chad left and ethan pulled you into his lap it just felt like he was being more than friendly.

“ethan.” whispering his name. he didn’t move or make a sound, so you dropped your palm to his cheek and ran your thumb under his eye as you called his name a few more times and a little louder.

a big inhale and scrunch of his face he mumbled with a thickness to his words, “why are you waking me up early, when we get to play house? we can sleep in.”

and you were more than happy to play house. sleep in the same bed, wake up together, cook together. just being together. “do you want to continue playing house even when chad comes back?” a hushed question with a loaded meaning and answer.

ethan groaned again as he pushed his icicle face to your neck and pressed a feather light kiss to when your jawline meets the bottom of your ear. you thought you imagined the action before he spoke to your spiked pulse point, “i’ve wanted to play house two weeks after i met you.”

there was a lovesick smile taking over your face. how you can’t wait to play house in the future, but right now, “ethan, i think we should go to sam’s. my body actually hurts.”

“wanna just take a shower. together. won’t mind running up the water bill if we’re sharing.” and you could feel the smirk from his lips.

you took a few seconds before- “get up, husband. gotta make the wife happy.”

-

[firstsprinces]

Hello! I am currently losing my mind over "The Tortured Poets Department (hello fellow swifties! I have zero swiftie friends in my life to ever talk to so I'm glad I can celebrate with y'all) like my thoughts are so jumbled between THAT AESTHETIC, all the new fic titles we're going to get from it, ALL POET HENRY CONTENT CREATED BY MY FELLOW WRITERS! And Taylor Swift just made history with her fourth AOTY Grammy!! (I'm also running on exhaustion so hopefully it'll rein my chaos in)

I almost forgot to thank @anincompletelist and @priincebutt for tagging me! LOVED your snippets this week and I hope I'll be able to fit in some much needed reading time to catch up!

This is more than six sentences because at this point you deserve all of the sentences for the Outlaw Alex/Aspiring Journalist Henry fic! Work will be slow this week so I will most likely have time off this week to keep writing. The first chapter is currently at 12K (this is the cut down version) and it's still not quite finished.

“And don’t forget to mention the bake sale. All the women from the church have been working their fingers to the bone for this upcoming weekend.” An elderly woman wearing a navy cloche hat with a matching fabric rose with a silver brooch in its center and a firm knot beside it to indicate her marital status, though this highly valued socialite seems to forget about her husband because she’s quite flirtatious. “You’ll be stopping by, dear boy, won’t you? I’m sure the all the single ladies from the church would love to see a strapping young man such as yourself supporting our community in times like these.” Henry Fox pauses his typing and curls his fingers in and then stretches them back out underneath his desk as he’s itching to crack his knuckles, but he doesn’t because he feels it’ll be rude to do while Mrs. Annette Bellshire is speaking to him. “I wouldn’t dare to miss it, Ma’am,” Henry replies to her, adding in a reassuring smile for extra measure while his eyes fight to check the clock that’s hanging in the upper corner of the behind her head. “You can call me, Annette,” she tells him with a quick wink as she brings her hand forward and reaches across the desk, her delicate and shaky fingers landing on his wrist, her touch cold through the sleeve of his shirt. Her large opal ring reflects what’s left of the dimming daylight, indicating that he most likely should be packing up his belongings and putting on his long coat and cap so he can leave for the night. Henry doesn’t answer, and not just because he’s starting to feel uncomfortable but out of respect for her husband and her marriage. He also doesn’t pull his hand away even though he probably should because an innocent passerby may see it as something far less from innocent. He’s sure it’d be quite the scandal for a married woman her age courting someone who’s young enough to be her son, and possibly even her grandson because Henry’s not exactly sure of her age and is basing his assumption off her wrinkly skin and veined hands. At the sound of a car horn, Mrs. Bellshire leans her body over to look out the window, her hand still touching Henry until she speaks again, “well, that would be Mr. Bellshire. Mustn’t keep him waiting.” She places her purse onto Henry’s desk before she stands up, smoothing her hands down the front of the skirt of her dress. Then she waves her hand at the window to let her husband know that she’ll be out shortly. “Do you mind escorting me out? I swear, the stones are starting to become uneven. I wouldn’t want to sprain my ankle before such an eventful weekend.” She says as she pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders even though the cobblestones have nothing to do with her body temperature. He can’t help but turn his entire body around to look out the window, Mr. Bellshire is already standing beside the passenger’s side as he waits for his wife. Surely, Mrs. Bellshire doesn’t need Henry to walk her out and she’s only playing with the idea that it’ll look a certain way to her husband. It’s a game he doesn’t want to be part of, but he’s been raised to be polite, especially towards women.

I won't be tagging anyone as it's very late and there's no space in my brain right now to try and think of anything besides AH NEW TAYLOR SWIFT ALBUM and I NEED TO GO TO BED RIGHT AFTER HITTING POST.

[magxnoria]

Starring Tokyo Revengers Men ✰ As Side Pieces

Cast Line Up Ran, Rindou, Haruchiyo, Mikey, Kakucho, Hajime and Current Shuji

Rated TV-MA

Minors This Isn’t For You

Summary✰ How The Men Behave While Being Your Man on the Side! Got Your Husband Wondering Why Your Booty is Getting Bigger and Your Skin Clearer!

No pronouns up in here but the Reader has a Kitty 

Ran Haitani

✰ Ran Loves being the Man you sneak out the house for in nothing but a thin nightgown to get a quick dicking down, “Let Daddy fuck all your stress away” Ran singsong while you suck his thumb

✰ Oh he knows you're hooked on him cause he somehow got your Married ass to get a tattoo of his initials on your inner left thigh

✰ He despises your husband, The Drunken Asshole who pays all his attention to whiskey and Gin that he didn't even notice you get into the Arms of Another Man

✰ Ran dicks you with all he got, He wants you sprung off him and Drunk off his dick. Every night he's massaging your back and Burying his dick up in your tight cunt

✰ He wishes your husband would say something out of the way about Him fucking you, He’ll Shatter the man's bones 

✰ In Ran's Opinion, you already belong to him, hell he Brings you everywhere and Introduce you as his 

✰ “Ran Haitani being the Side dick to someone who married. Who would've thought?” Sanzu laughed while Rindou shook his head, “ Side Dick? I Have You know Y/N is All Mine. They don't even let their husband fuck The Pussy that Belongs to Ran fucking Haitani” Ran Says proudly as Rindou rolls his eyes 

✰ Ran got feeling so deep that he was ready to get Bonten henchmen to beat your husband into signing Divorce papers so he can have you all to himself

Ran Had you folded up on the back seat of your husband's truck as he fucked into you, “ Drunk fuck let me take his babe and his fucking keys, What a fucking joke” Ran Giggled as he gave you powerful long strokes, “ I know this pussy was made for me, You take this dick so well” Ran groaned while he rolled his hips just right to fuck all the senses out of you

“Who does This pussy Belong to hmmm? Ran asked as his fingers ghosted over your clit making you whine, “ My Pussy Belong to Ran Haitani” You moaned as he rubbed circles into your clit. “So fucking good too, you're perfect” Ran groaned while he fucked you so hard the truck was shaking

Rans's dick felt so good in your cunt that you didn't even care about the windows of the truck not being tinted, all you cared about was the way Ran’s dick stretched your pussy open and how his tip rubbed that spot deep in you. “Fuck. Ran Feels so good in me” You moaned as Ran sucked a hickey on your neck 

“Can feel your pussy tugging on my dick, you really love me huh?” Ran teased as he slowed his thrusts down to relish the way your pussy was holding his dick, “Ran, I'm Cumming” You moaned out as you watched Ran’s dick enter in and out of you making you cum against him. 

Ran was only able to give you three shaky thrusts before he began cumming in your tight pulsing pussy, “I fucking Love you” Ran groaned out as his dick filled you up with his cum. Ran pushed himself deep into your pussy one final time before pulling out of you. “Oops! We made a mess of his cloth seats” Ran said as he cleaned his dick with your panties, “Guess I'll leave these behind as a memento for him, This the closest he gonna get to your pussy anyway” Ran giggled as he tossed your dirty panties on the dashboard

Rindou Haitani

✰ Oh How Rindou loves fucking you and he doesn't feel bad for fucking your married pussy up

✰ He knows your husband and he can never feel sorry for a drunk loser who rather act single than enjoy the beauty he got at home

✰ Rindou treats and fuck you like you belong to him, He loves making you cum hard around his dick

✰ He's In your pussy so much that you hardly ever see your husband because you're glued to the Youngest Haitani

✰ Rindou has fucked you on every surface of The house you share with that bastard you call a “Husband”

✰ It Would make Rindou day if your husband confronts him, He’ll snap his bones like pretzel sticks 

✰ You got the youngest Haitani catching feelings and he's not ashamed of it, you're one of the best things in his world

✰ “Rin, you're glowing,” Ran says while grinning, “ Guess it's that Married pussy making him shine” Sanzu laughs while Ran starts snickering. “Yeah Yeah. Laugh it up. At Least we’re Happy together that's more than I about you two” Rindou says before stirring his drink While Ran and Sanzu's laughter halt

✰ At this Rate, Rindou will take you away from that bastard and make you his 

Rindou was fucking you in the Offce of the club, his dick hitting your G-Spot so well you could only see stars, “Rinnie, fucking My pussy so good” you mewled with Rindou's hands gripping your thighs. “Fucking this pussy because you're mine” Rindou Grunted while rutting into you 

“That silly bastard probably out there wondering where the fuck you went, Doesn't even have a clue you're back here getting dick from a real man” Rindou groaned before popping your tits out of your dress and swirling his tongue around your right nipple. “Going to fuck you until you get knocked up, be tied to me Not Him” Rindou grunted out before latching on to your left nipple

His hips pushed his dick deep in you as he groaned against your nipple making your eyes roll, “No one can fuck me like you do Rinnie” You moaned as he kept up the pace fucking you absolutely dumb. “You got that right. Only I can fuck your pussy like this. Only I can drive you crazy like this Rindou Grunted as he rocked his hips trying to get deeper in you 

“Fuck. Just like that Rinnie” You moaned as Rindou palmed your clit making your eyes tear up, “Aww you're about to cum already? Rindou teased as he kept hitting your pussy with the same rhythm that made your pussy twitch. Your Orgasm hit you like a train as you shook against Rindou who had his eyes closed. “Feels so fucking Good” Rindou groaned as his cum seeped out of his dick into your warmth

“Fuck” Rindou groaned While giving you two shallow thrusts before pulling out you, “Now go back out there to that loser with my cum dribbling down your leg and No panties” Rindou grinned while stuffing your panties in the pocket of his Gucci Pants 

Haruchiyo Sanzu 

✰ Haruchiyo Loves you, He became Infatuated with you from the Moment his name fell from those pretty lips of yours But You have a husband.

✰ He is Selfish and Greedy. He wants Your Time, Your Body, and Your mind to constantly stay on him

✰ Haruchiyo values loyalty but the way your husband treats you makes him sick to his stomach

✰ Your husband is a parasite in Haruchiyo's eyes, A tapeworm that somehow found a way to get attached to the most beautiful being around 

✰ Haruchiyo fucks you in his car outside of your house, Inside your Home, and in the private booth of the club

✰ He always Cum Inside you, Nothing will please him more than you getting knocked up with his kids and becoming his in a way your husband never will experience 

✰ He wants your husband to say something ugly to you so he can paint the walls with his blood, Haruchiyo is plotting the man's downfall.

✰ He can't wait for the day your husband “disappears” so He can make you officially his but for now he’ll enjoy being the man you depend on for amazing dick and a good time.

✰ “Fuck you till you can't walk, have your knees buckling in front of him” Haruchiyo grins while his hands roam your body

“Love the way my dick feels in that tight pussy huh?” Haruchiyo Teased as he fucked you on The bed you share with the man you married for the fifth night in a row, “Haru, He might come home early” you whined while Haruchiyo rubbed your nipples with his fingers 

“Who?? that wimpy fuck?? I got something for him, don't you worry baby.” Haruchiyo grinned before bringing his right hand down to play your clit making you grind up against his hand, “ Pussy so wet for me. I bet you're so turned on right now thinking about what would happen if he catch us, I can't lie my dick just throbbing right now at the fucking possibility” Haruchiyo Grunted while fucking you deep

Haruchiyo's strokes were rapid, Deep, and Long with every push of his hips his tip was battering your G-spot with such accuracy that you couldn't help but scream out his name and claw at his back, “ Fuck, Mark Your Man up. I'm all Yours and take all this dick” Haruchiyo Groaned while he rammed himself deeper in your cunt making you brokenly say his name 

“Haru, So close baby” You moaned while he smiled down at you as you throbbed around his dick, Haruchiyo didn't let up from fucking you relentlessly when your pussy started clenching down hard on him, His thrusts became sloppier as he began cumming in you. “Fuck. Milking me dry” Haruchiyo Groaned as he shot his load deep in your pussy only to be disturbed by the drunken slurs of your husband 

“You whore!” your husband Yelled while Haruchiyo handed you his keys and Suit Jacket, “Wait in my car for me baby, I won't be long. Oh how I waited for this fucking Day” Haruchiyo laughed before cracking his neck 

Round One! Fight!

Manjiro Sano

✰ Manjiro hates being your side piece but he loves you.

✰ You are his one and only but you got that limp noodle of a man as a husband 

✰ Your Husband pisses Manjiro off by cheating on you while treating you poorly, these actions alone are enough for Manjiro to make him Go missing.

✰ Manjiro fucks You anytime and anyplace but he loves fucking you in the apartment you share with your husband , His dick gets harder when he knows your husband can catch you two 

✰ He prefers to cum in you but if you don't want him to? He blows his load on your husband's pillow

✰ What is your husband gonna do? Try to Beat Manjiro Sano?? Don't make him laugh. 

✰ Manjiro flaunts you around, he wants the world to know of his relationship with you

✰ If Your Husband dares to raise his voice or hand to you?  He will be expecting a visit from Death Himself after being tortured of course

✰ You Brought out a different side of Manjiro Sano and Now The streets of Tokyo are a little bit more bloodier

✰ Manjiro can barely wait for the Day your husband signs those papers and frees you from this loveless marriage 

Sanzu Had his back turned to you as he held your tied-up husband at gunpoint while Manjiro and you fucked each other,  “Don't you Love Seeing them Ride this dick?” Manjiro Groaned while you rode him as your husband watched

 “ Watching like the worm you are. All tied up on the floor” Manjiro Sighed while rolling his hips up to meet yours, Your pussy squeezing on him more than usual making him spank your ass.  “ Ahhh Sweet heart here loves you watching Me dick this pussy right. So wet and Squeezing me harder Than usual! Anyway sign the papers” Manjiro said before flicking his wrist 

“You Heard what My boss said. Sign those divorce papers and don't you fucking stain them with your tears” Sanzu Grinned before pressing the gun to your husband's skull, “Shit. if you loved them you would've treated them better” Manjiro Groaned before pinching your nipples making you arch against him while your “husband” signed the papers

“Signed them?? Good Now, watch us fuck.” Manjiro grunted while thrusting up into your pussy making you moan, “ Manjiro, your dick feels so good in me” You mewled while Manjiro closed his eyes. Yes. Gonna fuck you every night cause you're all mine now” Manjiro groaned while you bounced up and down his dick

Manjiro wasted no time sucking on your left nipple as his eyes studied your face and took in your blissed-out expression while he thrusted up into you, You don't know if was the heat of the moment or how Manjiro's dick was pushed up inside your tender walls but you could feel your body shake

“Jiro, Gonna cum” You moaned while Manjiro only hummed around your nipple in response, he kept up the pace of thrusting up into you while your body trembled around his dick as you came hard. “Creaming All down my dick” Manjiro Groaned before laying you down on the Mattress, “Now I'm gonna fuck you till I get My fill. Sanzu Take out the trash” Manjiro commanded while Sanzu Dragged your “Husband” out of the room 

Kakucho

✰ Kakucho loves you deeply, it's a shame you're married to another man who mistreats you so

✰ How Kakucho treats you well and he praises the ground you walk on, It sickens him to hear the things your husband has put you through

✰ Kakucho slowly goes out of his character and his mind now thinking like Sanzus whenever you come to him crying. Your “Husband” has to pay for his sins against you.

✰ He always there for you to be a shoulder to cry on or strong arms to caress you with 

✰ Kakucho may have a good heart but he also gives very good dick that makes you a whining mess under him

✰ He makes love you to at his place or Hotels, He never wants to put you in a bad situation

✰ He brings you around the safety of Bonten and a place where nosy eyes would not stare, He does this all for your safety 

✰ Kakucho Used to be a Heavenly King but he will rain down hell on the man who is married to you if he even looks at you wrong

✰ He will always be there for you with anything you need, he just wants you to be happy with or without him

✰ “I love you so much, I would love to be your man. I know your situation is rough right now and I'm willing to wait for you Dove” Kakucho whispers in your ear while holding you tight 

Kakucho was making tender love to you on a bed of rose petals. Your pussy felt wonderful with his dick filling you up, “Feels so Good in me” you moaned as Kakucho laid soft kisses down your chest  while he sank down deeper into you

“You feel so good around me “ Kakucho groaned while wetting his lips before rocking his hips at a pace that makes you wild, “ So good Ahh Feels so good” You moaned while Kakucho kept working your pussy with his dick making your body shudder

“So Sweet, So Beautiful” Kakucho Groaned as he enjoyed the feeling of being embraced by your warmth, “Could Stay inside you forever” Kakucho whispered while he pushed himself deeper into you while keeping the rhythm 

As if his dick was made for you, he was hitting every spot that made you writhing babbling mess. He rubbed your clit so well that you couldn't keep yourself from getting captured up in bliss, your hips moved on their own as you met his thrusts. “Kaku. So close” you moaned while Kakucho's free Hand caressed your face

“I know you're ready for your release, Let Go. I am Here” Kakucho whispered in your ear as your body followed his command, you got lost in paradise as your body convulsed in pleasure. Kakucho Thrusts stayed strong doing your orgasm, He came in you with a groan of your name before capturing your lips in a kiss.

“I love you” Kakucho whispered before pulling the covers over the two of you.

Hajime Kokonoi

✰ How you got Hajime all messed up! He told himself he wasn't going to fall for you but look at him! Head over heels for someone who married 

✰ Hajime despises your husband and the horrible way he treats you, Whenever you come to him with tears in your eyes he considers asking Sanzu to take care of a “Problem” for him

✰ He spoils you, He gives you good dick and Gucci handbags. Your husband is now questioning how you can afford such finery

✰ Hajime Knows you Love him by the way you say his name and the way your pussy grips so tightly whenever he fucks you 

✰ He's classy with it. he fucks you in the best of hotels and his penthouse

✰ He Takes you on vacation to Bali, France and Dubai, Have your husband wondering where the fuck you went 

✰ Hajime Always Paint your walls with his cum, he sees it as another way of claiming you as his 

✰ In fact he knows you will be his one day, your husband is a loser and is losing you to the better man

✰ “If you think you're being treated like royalty now just wait until you're all mine. I'll fuck you on a bed of Money.” Hajime whispered in your ear while he undressed you 

The Moonlight shone in through the window of the Hotel you were staying at while he fucked you down on his bed, “ Bet He never made you feel like this” Hajime Grunted as his dick spread your cunt open with every snap of his hips. “Who Keeps you Happy? Who Keeps You satisfied?” Hajime asked before sucking your left nipple, His sharp eyes staring up at 

“Hajime Kokonoi, Satisfy me in every way” You breathly Moaned making Hajime Hum as he pulled away from your left nipple with a pop and began to suck on your right. His dick was deep in you as the moon Illuminated the union of you two

“Koko. Just Like That” you moaned while Hajime fucked into you, Your legs wrapped tightly around your lover holding him against you like you were afraid he would pull out and leave you empty. “Only I make you so sloppy, Your sweet Juices coating me so well” Hajime groaned as his dick massaged your walls making him shiver 

His dick stayed on your G-spot making you incoherent against the white-haired male, “Fuck. I can feel you throbbing, Pussy Getting ready to cum on me and Take All my cum. Yeah?” Hajime Grunted while he fucked you toward the edge of ecstasy. You struggled to find words as your pussy spasmed around Hajime's thick dick, Your eyes rolling back while your body went limp

Hajime's thrust became erratic as your pussy gripped his orgasm from him, his seed flooding your pussy. “ I love seeing you take my cum” Hajime Groaned before pushing himself deep in you, “Put My Rolex on your wrist and Take a picture for your Instagram, I want him to see how fucked out of your mind you look” Hajime smiled before handing your phone to you

The Caption to the photo? “ Blissed out in Bali Under My Man”  

Shuji Hanma

✰ Shuji started fucking you because he thought you needed fun in your life and baby he was correct

✰ Your husband has been playing in the streets while his spouse was lonely in the sheets

✰ Shuji loves being your side piece, it's thrilling. The way you grab at him and ride his dick like you're constantly in heat got him leaking just from the thoughts alone

✰ Shuji is Taking Pictures of his dick in your pussy and Filming your encounters on his phone just to send them to your husband 

✰ “Don't be shy! Let that fucker see you get dick from a real man” Shuji Laughs while angling his phone down at your face 

✰ He wants your husband to try something so he punches his lights off and then back on again cause he Generous like that 

✰ Shuji fucking you nasty on the bed your husband bought in the house your husband pays for and he doesn't feel sorry at all

✰ “Gonna Fuck you till you forget his pathetic loser name ”  Shuji whispers in your ear while he thumbs your clit through your panties 

“Smile for the camera Baby!” Shuji grinned while he fucked you from behind so good you couldn't even form a sentence, “Where are your words? Let Him Know how good this dick feels in ya or I can stop, Leave you with a wet aching pussy” Shuji said while feigning sadness

“Y-Your Dick F-Feel so Good in me” You mewled while Shuji spanked your ass, “ Nope. Who dick feels good in you?” Shuji whispered in your ear while putting his body weight on your back. “Shuji Hanma's dick feels so good fucking my pussy” You sputtered out while he kiss the back of your neck

“ You got that fucking right. Look at all that cream! All over my dick” Shuji groaned while he lowered his phone so he could record your messy pussy taking his dick so well, “I bet you never were able to make this pussy so wet, Guess you're gonna be mad when you see what this pussy can do when a real dick gets into it” Shuji grunted as he angled his hips to fuck you deeper 

“Look at them! Can barely stop themselves from shaking” Shuji teased as he pounded into you just right, “ Just to think you could've had this pussy all to yourself But Now this pussy is mine to fuck whenever I get Hard and I stay hard most of the time!” Shuji Giggled while your pussy pulsed around him 

“Ahh, I can feel you about to cum around my dick baby. Lose control” Shuji said he fucked in and out of you good that you couldn't help but lose control and cum hard on his dick, “Fuck. Greedy pussy taking my cum so well” Shuji groaned as his hot cum poured into you. Shuji gave you four more shallow thrusts before Leaning his weight on your back as he messed with his phone

“Sent The Video Off of us fucking, Hope your Hubby likes it” Shuji Whispered in your ear before pinching your hips.

Likes, Comments, Reblogs, And Asks are Appreciated & Loved

Please Don’t Steal My Shit 

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I JUST HAVE TO REQUEST SOMETHING ONCE YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! Congratulations!! Can I request Anthony Bridgerton with the fluff prompt “i love your voice, it’s soothing” and “move your blanket, i wanna lay down on your lap.”?

Busy Days, Peaceful Nights // Anthony Bridgerton

A/n: I haven’t posted anything in what feels like forever. I just haven’t had the motivation but I wanted to post something short today so I hope it’s okay!

Warnings: established relationship, married couple, banter, anniversary, long days, cute, fluff.

Word count: 100+

The sun had finally set on an eventful day at Bridgerton House; the curtains having been drawn some time ago, and the oil lamps and sconces lit one by one through the grand house. Not only had family visited throughout the day, but dear friends and loved ones continued dropping in, wishing their happiness for the two of you on your fifth wedding anniversary. There hadn’t truly been a single moment for you to catch your breath; feeling much like you did on your wedding day as you smiled and smiled, and thanked and thanked.

It had been a very long day.

You simply couldn’t help the sigh of relief that left you as the final visitor left for the evening; leaving you alone to ready yourself for bed, removing the tight clothing you had sat in for the last hours of dinner. A shiver of relief rushes through you as you slip into your night robe; the fabric soft against your skin as you reach for the book that had been sitting on your nightstand for close to a week, left unopened and lonely. With a tired breath, you sit down on the couch in your bedroom, tucking your legs beneath you as you pull a blanket across your lap and open your book.

“Have they gone?” Anthony asks, poking his head around the door in a sheepish manner.

You raise a single, unimpressed eyebrow as you pause your reading. “Tell me, my love, did you manage to get all of your work done as I entertained?”

Anthony coughs; a shy look upon his face as he comes further in your shared bedroom. “Oh yes” He nods, “It has been a productive day, indeed.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” You answer, turning your attention back to your book and leaving your husband to brood as he gets ready for bed.

It doesn’t take Anthony long to miss your attention. Numerous Tim see a minute, Anthony glances over to where you sit on the couch, your book open in your lap as your eyes pour over the pages. For a single moment, Anthony feels rather jealous of the paper binding the book - he would rather have your attention on him than on the book. Feeling rather foolish, Anthony finishes his night routine before joining you.

“Move your blanket,” Anthony commands softly, beginning the process himself as he kneels on the couch. “I want to lay down on your lap.”

You obey your husband wordlessly, removing your blanket with an amused look on your face as Anthony smiles victoriously. In an instant, he’s shifted, laying down with his head in your lap. “Are you comfortable?” You ask, entertained by your beloved’s antics.

“Very,” he responds smartly, winking up at you. His satisfied expression turns to one of glee when a laugh falls from your lips at Anthony’s attempt to wink.

“Then I’ll continue reading.”

For what feels like an age to Anthony, the only sound in the room is the ticking of the clock above the fireplace. The very noise mocks him as he tries to relax, tries to let the tension of the day leech from his bones.

It doesn’t work.

“Read aloud?” Anthony asks from his place in your lap, wanting nothing than to hear your voice and be soothed by it.

Unable to deny Anthony anything, you begin to recite the written word aloud. Anthony watches your face for a while; he sees how the words bring you to life, how the characters fall from your lips as you breathe life into another person’s work. His eyes slip closed; your voice washing over him. “I love your voice,” he murmurs, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. “It’s soothing after such a day.”

“Ah yes,” You nod, feeling rather sympathetic for your poor husband. “You have had such a busy day, my love.”

“Is that sarcasm I detect, darling?”

“Why would you think such a thing?” You gasp, feigning hurt at Anthony’s words. “I’m simply agreeing with you, my dear. You have had an incredibly busy day, hiding in your office as I dealt with your family, my family, and our friends, and our neighbours.”

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” Anthony surmises; his eyes narrowing in as he takes in the triumphant look of glee written across your face.

“I knew from the moment Lady Featherington was announced at our door.”

Anthony snorts; his gaze amused before it turns serious. “Can you forgive me, my darling?”

You sigh, glancing down at the man you promised to love for an eternity. The words still ring true; you would love Anthony until your very last breath, your love for him being an integral part of your very being. As such, it was far too easy for Anthony to spot when he was let off the hook. A smile slowly begins to spread across his face; his eyes softening with his own love for you alongside residual mirth from your conversation. Anthony knew he was forgiven the moment you met his gaze.

Another sigh leaves you. “I suppose I could…” You begin, “For a price.”

“Name it,” Anthony states without hesitation, safe in the knowledge that he would go to the ends of the earth for you.

“A kiss.” You state happily.

Anthony obliges without haste.

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.10

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

Feel free to send asks about the series!

next part

2 years later

Your Saturday morning had started off quite busy, after an early Pilates class with Dina, some coffee and a bit of grocery shopping you finally headed home. The house was in its best state possible, with your ever growing daughter being out of the house for the next two days. Usually Ellie had her on Fridays, Saturday's and Sunday's but this weekend she'd be off camping with Joel. You were more than ok for her to spend the time with her grandfather and judging from Ellie's lack of hesitance when Joel had suggested he take Lila with him, you assumed she felt the same.

With nothing left to do for the next three hours, you decided you'd pamper yourself before your guest came over. The tub was filled to the brim with foamy suds of expensive vanilla- coconut scented bubble bath, a gift you had received from Nara. Your felt the ache of your bones soothe as you sunk yourself deeper and deeper into the water. After the long and taxing week you'd had at work and home, you decided to treat yourself today, hence the bubble bath and candles that were lit around the bathroom.

After scrubbing yourself clean, shaving and rinsing off, you drained and cleaned the bath and then headed into your bedroom. You had a Nina Simone record playing and the lights dimmed as you smeared your body in lotion and threw on a baby pink satin nighty. With a small peak through your curtains it seemed the sun had set already, a deep orange coating the sky, as the moon slowly appeared. You'd never grow accustomed to the quiet, and as much as you loved Lila it was always great to have three days of uninterrupted self care.

You were sat on a kitchen stool downing a glass of Chardonnay when your doorbell rang. You giggled nervously, placing your glass on the counter and running to the door. You hurriedly unlocked the front door and were welcomed by the sight of Abby.

Before you could get a word in her hands had scooped under your armpits, her leg kicking the door shut. She hoisted you onto the kitchen island so quickly that it made you release a little squeal. Her mouth didn't leave yours as her fingers, made way to the thin straps of your satin nighty.

"My fucking favourite." She groans into your mouth, referring to the pink nightie of yours that she loved so much. You smile knowingly, as that was the reason you'd purposefully put it on. You knew it made her insatiable.

She finally let go of you, shucking her arms out of her brown flannel. Her strong hipbones filled the space between your legs. Her hands were so big as she placed them under your thighs and hoisted you onto her hips, she carried you upstairs despite your embarrassed protests.

You'd made it into your bedroom, where she was leaning down so you could kiss her mouth more easily. “Come sit on my lap," she whispered. "It's easier to kiss you that way."

You straddled her lap and she was right, finally your faces were level. Within seconds the heat between the both of you had escalated to how it had been in the kitchen. You ground your crotch against her as she gripped your ass and then slid her hands under your nightie. Her fingers fumbled with the satin dress before sliding upwards. Her actions causing you to shudder and whimper as her hands cupped and kneaded your breasts. Your nipples reveled in the way she softly pinched them. As she kissed you with increasing fervor, she couldn't help but purr her moans into your mouth.

"Do you have it on?" You question as you ground yourself against her and she nods. You reach for her belt, tugging impatiently and she helps you remove the pants.

"So fucking impatient." She teases as she flips you over forcefully, both of her hands rest at the side of your head and she dips her head to pepper kisses on your neck, burying her face in your cleavage, kissing and sucking on your delicate, smooth skin. Your scent, vanilla and coconut, was so delicious to her she could practically eat you.

You moaned against her touch, you ran your fingers through her blonde hair as she cupped your breasts, kissing all the way from your chest, to your neck, to your lips. Moving down she slid her hands along your bare thighs, pushing the satin dress up further to your hips. She hooked a finger around your lace panties and tugged them, she made her way further down the bed tugging them completely off and then proceeding to kiss your ankles.

You looked up at her from the bed and bit your lip as you watched her suck on her fingers to wet them for you. Moving her hand to your core, she felt your natural heat and wetness as she carefully touched you before leaning back down and kissing you deeply. She ran her wet fingers gently up and down your folds, warming you up to her touch. You moaned into her mouth as you felt your wetness start to cover her fingers.

Once again she had made her way down the bed, leaving sloppy kisses on your thighs. Her pace was slow at first, as she inched closer and closer to your core when you let out a delectable moan. All of a sudden she was a woman starved as she doubled down her attack on your pussy. There were no teasing licks, only fierce suction and pressure just how you liked it. It was too much and not enough all at once.

As if your thrashing and moans weren't enough, she brought her fingers down to your clit, doubling the pleasure. You tried to pull away from her face to lessen the overwhelming amounts of pleasure you were experiencing but she didn't back down. If anything it encouraged her to keep going.

"Abs, I'm going to" you whine pathetically and she moans into you as she continues lapping. "Daddy please" you whine, big mistake, the words turning her on so badly that her strong arms wrap tightly around your hips, caging you in.

"Come on do it, you cum so pretty, baby." Her eyes had dark fire in them and her snarl made her canine teeth sing. "And I know you can do it. You are such a good little slut." She laid her weight on top of you, hissing into your core as her fingers worked your clit furiously. "You cum so good for Daddy. I love that about you. My sweet girl, she fucking love's to cum."

Her words are enough to send you into overdrive and you cum with a loud yelp, your back arching off the bed. She lifts her head, face covered in slick as she smiles at you. You needed more and you needed it now, she looked so good. Hair loose, all sweaty from her attack on your cunt and her muscles tensing as she dragged you by the legs.

"I need to be inside you right now." She remarks and you nod fervently, before the two of you can go any further you're interrupted by hard knocks at your door. She looks down at you curiously and you shrug.

"Wait here baby, I'll be back" you grab your nighty that was strewn across the floor, not having time to find your panties and make your way down the stairs. You reach the front door, annoyed that your and Abby's bliss had been disturbed. What you didn't expect was to find Ellie standing at your front door holding a bag of Chinese food.

"Ellie?" You question, immediately embarrassed at the fact that you were fucked out wearing nothing but a nightie, with your own cum probably still dripping out of you.

"Hey, I thought I'd bring you some food. Lila's usually with me on weekends and now she’s at camp with Joel and I'm not used to spending them alone, so I just thought we could eat together like old ti-" her ramble is cut off when she hears a voice calling out your name.

"Who is it baby?" Abby asks as she comes up behind you, when her eyes land on Ellie and she freezes.

"Oh shit I didn't know you had company" Ellie's cheeks go crimson red and she starts to connect the dots. She must've realised what the two of you had been doing as her eyes fail to meet yours and all she can do is hand you the bag of Chinese and look away.

You accept the bag, passing it to Abby and instructing her to place it in the kitchen and give you some time to speak with Ellie.

"I'm sorry I didn't expect any guests tonight" you say as you watch Ellie fidget with her jacket zipper.

"It's fine, my bad for showing up announced." Her eyes finally meet yours and you give her an awkward smile.

"Well are you sure about the food, I can split it so yo-" she cuts you off, shaking her head.

"It's fine, you can have it all" you nod awkwardly.

"Alright goodnight Ellie" you attempt to shut the door when she calls out to you.

"Does she really make you happy?" You're taken aback by her blunt question but don't fail to nod.

"Yeah, really happy."

-

Ellie took the long route home, to think about what had happened. To see you with that bitch all fucked out had her feeling a deep rage. she was even more embarrassed that it took her so long to realise what you’d been doing. She knew the two of you had been dating but she didn’t know how serious it was, Abby had met her daughter but whenever Ellie asked if she slept over Lila always said no.

She should’ve connected the dots that you’d been bringing her round on the days Lila was at her place. Ellie knew she had to right to be upset, she herself had been on dates since the divorce, however they all went horribly. She just couldn’t help but feel possessive of you, no matter how many years the two of you were separated she knew she would get you back one way or another.

-

“What took you so long?”

“Excuse me? I worked as fast as I could. You just have no patience.”

“Just give me the fucking key?”

“Alright here, but you owe me”

“Whatever, I’ll send you the money in an hour, now fuck off ”

Amelia rolls her window up and drives away from Ellie’s house with the key she’d had made safely stored inside an envelope. She wasn’t lying when she told Ellie she’d regret ever leaving her. Revenge was coming for Ellie and her family, it was only a matter of time.

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[subwaysurf45]

The Time of the Prey (5)

Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made. 

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Words: 3k

Warning: angst, kidnapping, being tied up, reference to rape (very little though), yelling, swearing

Series Masterlist      II      Series Playlist

When your consciousness came back to you it was far too late, the carriage was jostling around and hitting many stones. As a royal you knew this meant you were entering a kingdom with their own gravel grounds that caused the horse to move a little more skittishly. You were far away from a main road; your stomach began to turn. 

One man’s foot was pressed to your back, you laid on your stomach with your corset undone but nothing exposed, you had no idea if anyone had gone too far. You didn’t want them to know you were awake because you wanted to go as uninjured as possible. 

Growing up you had heard many stories about knights in shining armor saving their princesses and marrying them, Princes will save their wives and brothers will save their sisters to bring back to their father. Every story you were taught to sit and wait for someone, a man, to come find you. It may be because you are a little too hard headed, or maybe because you wanted to prove your late father wrong. 

But you were going to get out of there yourself, even if it meant losing an arm or your life in the process. 

When the carriage stopped you moved your head to the side, looking up at the man who had his foot on your back. He smirked at you and moved to get out of the cart, dragging you by your foot out as well. Your head smashed into the ground and caused a moment of spinning, stars appeared in your vision as another man hauled you over his shoulder. 

It seemed no one was around as they walked with you towards descending stairs, not many castles had dungeons these days, torutre and hostages weren’t common. But there was a war beginning now and everyone retreated back to their primary mind, needing to take what they could and keep it for as long as possible. 

When the man went down the stairs he held you over his shoulder, smashing his feet onto the ground so your ribs dug into the bone every step. It was a long staircase, never ending pain in your stomach, you let out a few groans but didn’t want any more attention to yourself, you couldn’t seem weak. 

“Here you go, Princess,” the man who was carrying you threw you onto the ground, causing you to groan in pain. The men were quick to tie you up against a few makeshift poles, the rope burned against your skin. “I’m surprised you haven’t said anything.” 

“The last time I attempted to speak you threatened to slit my throat,” you spoke to one out of three men, “so forgive me for being too quiet.” 

All of them laughed, “I like her,” said one with a bright orange beard. 

“Leave us,” a man with black hair that fell to his waist waved off his accomplices, staring you down in the process. He had many scars on his face, one of them caused his eyelid to be permanently pulled back. 

“You’re the ringleader, huh?” you asked. 

“You bet your ass I am,” he smirked and kneeled down to your level, “you’re the Princess, huh?” 

“I mean, not the important one,” you smiled at him, “I’m dead meat in most people's eyes, something they’d completely look past. My sister on the other hand…” you tried off and looked over to the side. 

“Your sister is a good prize but one that is almost impossible to earn,” the man’s voice was gravely and harsh, “taking her would have caused Sheildshire and South Lands to already be knocking down your drawbridge, and we needed a little more time so we chose you.” 

“I’m just curious because it seems like we’re being open here,” you saw the way he flashed a genuine grin, “why not my mother?” 

He scoffed and looked back to the door, “we’re spies,” he stood and kicked some dirt into your face, “we’re not monsters,” his feet took him to the door, “you’ll learn tomorrow how much we already know.” 

The door closed and you were left in the darkness, the air was still and it smelled of death. From the number of times you had been thrown around you couldn’t tell what that blurry image of white was in the corner, you hoped it wasn’t a skull. 

It was late in the afternoon, you could tell from the sun’s position and the moon already visible in the sky. There was a window with bars running vertically, you could see a small part of the sky but it was enough to know the time of day. 

A chill continuously ran up and down your back, you shook your entire body to try and stay warm but there was no use. There were dying embers in a fire pit, the smallest glow came from the centre, the heat was not not strong enough to get to you. 

The restraints were ropes tied tightly around your wrists and ankles, you were on your knees and got some relief when you rested back on your calves. The ropes were attached to hooks that were attached to wooden pillars, holding you taught. Your arms were slightly behind you and stretched out wide, causing stress to your elbow and shoulders, sitting back on your calves did only little to soothe the pain of ripping muscles. The ropes around your ankles were tied in such a way that made your ankles cross, causing pins and needles to flow up your right foot. 

“Ugh,” you pulled your right arm but only caused the pain to shoot further in your body, you looked over your shoulder to see what the contraption did when you pulled on it, seeing the way the wooden beam slightly moved. You did it again and the rope on the hook moved as well. 

After a few more pulls your limbs were screaming at you so you stopped, looking out the window and seeing the faint moon in the daylight. Maybe James was looking at it as well, you closed your eyes and saw him in front of you, smiling like he did when he came to see you paint. 

Your stomach twisted and your heart felt like it was going to explode at the thought that you might die with him thinking you were still cross with him. The painting was the best thing you had ever done but there’s no point in what you’ve done if you’re not there to make more of it. 

James was probably on his way now, trying to rescue you. That was sweet, and maybe someone else would want a knight in shining armour to help out. 

But you were about to break out of here alone. 

*******

James waited patiently outside the queen-to-be’s door, anxiously gripping the hilt of his dagger with one hand and his sword’s hilt with the other. Though he wore full silver armour now he had yet to put on his black gloves, they got way too hot and made his hands sweat. Through the door he could hear the wallows of Princess Natasha, Lady Melina, and Prince Steve was also in there as well, trying their best to calm her down but nothing worked. 

“Sorry to intrude…” James waited for a moment, thinking a small moment of silence was the best time to knock, “may I enter?” 

“You may,” Lady Melina spoke clearly. 

James opened the door to see Princess Natasha sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her dressing gown as she cried heavily into Prince Steve’s chest, covering most of her face with her hands. 

“As you may know,” James cleared his throat, “the war has begun, we are leaving before nightfall,” his eyes looked at Lady Melina’s, “I take full blame and responsibility for what happened to your daughter.” 

Lady Melina stood and flattened out her dark dress, “she told me that she fancied you,” a smile crept onto both of their faces, though both eyes stayed sad, “she told me other things as well…” 

“When I see her I’ll tell her I failed her,” James gulped, waiting to see her reaction. 

“Son,” Lady Melina reached out and cupped James’ cheek, “this is our life as women, I was a hostage before marrying their father,” she shook her head, “you didn’t fail anyone.” 

“But he did,” a voice came from James’ left, Natasha stood up with tears streaking down her face, “you were supposed to protect her, take care of her, make sure she wasn’t taken!” she screamed, Prince Steve quickly grabbed the Princess’ arms at her elbows, holding her back. 

“Natash-”

“She might die if you don’t get her, I don’t understand why you haven’t left now!” she jolted forward and broke out of the Prince’s grasp, “too busy with your preparations and yet you’re still behind-”

“Natasha-”

“I swear to the Gods the moment she comes back I’ll send her to find a real husband, a real man who will actually make sure she stays safe for the rest of her life,” her finger poked hard on James' armour. He couldn’t feel a thing. “You failed her, and you will always fail her.” 

James placed both hands out in surrender, “you must understand-”

“I understand perfectly!” she screamed, “you are the one who has failed to comprehend the danger you’ve put her in,” more tears gathered into her eyes, the rage and anger not completely taking over the sadness. 

“No,” James said slowly, “you must understand that your sister has been nothing but the second choice her entire life, you must understand that if I don’t get her back she will never know she will always be my first choice,” he paused and looked at Lady Melina, “I have failed her, yes. But you must know in my mind and heart she was always my first choice but it was executed terribly wrong.” then James looked at Natasha, “and I know you hate me, you might always hate me and I understand but never think-” tears welled in his eyes, “never think for a second I would leave her alone in a dungeon, I will go get her, and I will make sure she is safe.” 

“You will never see her,” Natasha spat, “if I learn that you’ve even looked at her I will have your head,” her tone was venomous and quiet. 

“NATASHA!” Lady Melina threw her daughter to the ground, “who do you think you are?” 

James took a step back, “it seems I should go…” 

“You should,” Natasha stood right in front of James, “I hope you have learned duty is the death of love.” 

James bowed in front of Natasha, “and you will soon learn love is the death of duty.” 

Before James could fully leave her room Lady Melina looked at James one more time, “go get my daughter, please.” her hand reached out and grabbed his, squeezing it tightly. 

“I will.” James nodded and left the room quickly, holding back his own tears as he walked to where most men were gathered. 

Men passed James in a blurr, James would nod and simply keep walking. He was not the highest regarded Knight in the kingdom but he was still one to be feared, everyone knew him because of how close he was to the Prince. 

“Ser,” a man had passed him, stopped, then called out his name, “may I ask where you’re going?” James didn’t respond, looking at him confused, “I do not mean to intrude if you have other duties but…the horses are nearly ready, I’d say you’re close to being left behind.” 

James nodded and looked over his shoulder, “I left my bag in my chamber, I will be there soon enough,” James forced a smile as the younger Knight quickly walked away. 

The moment he closed his door he pushed his back against it with force, a hand coming to his mouth to cover the sobs he wanted to let out. He hoped and prayed no one was standing outside of his door, waiting to knock and come in because James knew you can hear almost everything through the cracks in the wood. 

His breaths were short, his hand moving to his neck where the lump resided. In his mind you were there, standing before him with a sad look on your face. The one, of many, things he loved about you was your empathy, you could feel and internalize the feelings coming from another person and in this moment he missed the feeling. 

In his mind you stood in your favourite dress, bare feet, a sad smile. Your hands were reaching out slowly, making sure he knew you were about to touch him. As he wiped away his own tears he imagined you doing for him, “it’s okay,” he whispered to himself, changing his own voice in his head to match yours, “you’re okay.”

When his breathing came back James rolled his shoulders back, standing tall and keeping his chin up. His mind was shutting off, rage and anger were guiding him to his horse. His armour and metal clinked together as his feet pounded against the floor, he pulled on his gloves with a few quick tugs. 

His eyes were dead straight, not looking away for anything or anyone asking him questions. James found his caramel coloured horse, Ryder, and jumped on without hesitation. 

“Ser,” a squire came beside him, “we don’t have your bag-”

“Doesn’t matter,” James grumbled with his eyes forward, “they’ll all be dead by sunrise.” the squire backed away and James whipped his reigns, “Men,” he called, “onward!”

The castle slowly disappeared behind James’ shoulder, his eyes were set forward and his mind had one single thought. 

Bring her home. 

If not for him, then for Lady Melina. 

He knew he didn’t deserve you, not after what he had done. He had kept you locked up in your room, lonely in a kingdom that was not yours. Not to mention James ruining your painting, he could have easily gone to get it himself, but he didn’t want to miss the meeting. He had let the war take over when in reality all he wanted to think about was you, he didn’t remember the last time he spent real time with you; and now he’d have to pay. 

Lady Natasha had real power, though she wasn’t from his kingdom she could still make changes as if she owned it. She had all the power to banish James and make him never see you again, she could send her sister away to anywhere her heart desires, making her far away from James. 

The entire group was in a steady pace, James rode alone on the dirt path while everyone else doubled up. His eyes never budged whenever someone would call his name, he was near the front because of his status but there were men in front of him to answer the questions. James growled at a few men who decided to pull their horses up beside him, after an hour it was known that James wanted nothing to do with these men; just you. 

James wanted to be there by nightfall but that was next to impossible, though he thought he could make it there if his horse was full sprint the entire time but he knew that wasn’t fair to the horse so he stuck with the trotting group. The deeper into the forest the harder it was to tell the time. There were sections where the high trees completely covered the sky, leaving a very dark path in front of them. Men much smarter than James would know when to stop, they would be able to tell the time with the smallest crack of sun shining through the leaves. 

On the forefront of his mind was you. 

Your smile and your laugh, the way you hugged him. James could almost feel your head against his chest, the way you nuzzled into him after a few seconds, almost letting him know your guard was down and he could also relax like you. As much as he wanted to save you and bring you home he knew the inevitable was waiting for him, he could run away with you but that would look like the same situation you were in now: a man taking you away. But James wasn’t just a man to you, he could tell from the way you looked at him you fancied him, the only way he knew was because you looked at him the same way he looked at you. 

“We’re stopping here!” a man called from the front of the line, “no tents, we’re up early tomorrow, find a tree or a stump and make sure your horse doesn’t run away,” everyone shouted back a verbal confirmation. 

James slightly pulled off to the side, not getting in anyone's way. “Here we go Ryder,” James groaned as he dismounted off the horse, “let me get you some food,” he always had a habit of talking to Ryder, he’d grown up with the war horse. 

“Can I get three apples?” James asked the man with all the food. 

“Three?” he sighed, “you don’t need three.” 

“For my horse,” James crossed his arm, “two are for my horse.” 

“Two and a half is all you’re getting, Ser,” the man split one apple down the middle and passed them to James. Other men grabbed their food and headed back to their spot, James found Ryder again and fed him the apples, leaving the half to himself. 

His back slid against the tree, using his pocket knife to cut up slices for himself while he tried to make himself comfortable. Through the tall trees there was a pocket of sky, it was deep in the night. A chill ran down his spine, causing him to snag the blanket off the pack on his horse. His eyes made their way to the sky again, finding one star visible in the small crack. 

It twinkled and winked at him, the way your eyes do. A smile graced his lips as winked back, it was almost like looking into one of your eyes. 

almost. 

NEXT EPISODE

Taglist: tag list: @maybeimart @imtherain @jackiehollanderr @redneckstrash @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksanddrinkingtea-blog​ @linzc-reader @honeybunchesofbucky​ @sky0405 @striving4averagegirl @seybox @yaszx@happyt0exist @honeybunchesofbucky@munsonette @searchf0rtheskyline @ayafay@emi11ie@prettywhenicry4 @theluvcafe @whatsmylaneagain @sparkletash@learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @namelesssav @daydreaminglightly @desertfern @wbyss @crazy4sebchris​ @death-sonata​

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[httpdabi]

The Game

Genre: Smut

Summary: Playing a game made for couples with your best friend wasn’t such a bright idea. Or was it ?

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors, leave me and my blog alone), spanking, mention of daddy kink, cream pie, rough, dom!Dabi, praising

,, Can you hurry up already ? ‘’ Touya yelled from the living room as you were getting ready. ,, We are only going to buy groceries, we ain’t going to Met Gala for fucks sake’’ he hissed, once he realised that you ain’t answering him.

,, Give me a second’’ you screamed, as you were putting on your mascara carefully.

,, I gave you a whole fucking hour, woman’’ Touya snapped back, rolling his eyes playfully. He had to stress around a bit. Thinking about it, the two of you looked like married couple, yet you were nothing more than two best friends and roommates.

Once you were done, you made your way toward the shopping center that wasn’t that far away from your apartment. There wasn’t any specific reason the two of you were going there, you only needed some groceries to get, and you could literally get that in the store near your apartment. But the two of you decided to go out a bit, since both of you were pretty much focused on the studies last few days.

You and Touya know each other since you were little kids. Your mother and Rei were childhood best friends, so you and Touya grew up together. It was one of those forced friendships, that would have some huge development later on. As you were getting older, you started realising that you actually liked spending your time with him.

,, I hate this.. When I have money, there is nothing nice to buy, but when I’m broke as fuck, every dress is looking beautiful’’ you rolled your eyes disappointedly. Every time you don’t have much money, the stores around are having such a beautiful collections.

Of course, being your best friend, Touya always bought you clothes you had your eyes on, as a small surprise after you had a long and hard day at uni. You really loved him. Not only because of that, but simply for being him. Everyone knew how damn grateful you were for having him and your life and you really never tried to hide that.

,, Let’s go see if they have some board games, maybe we can buy something and play tonight’’ Touya suggested, grabbing your hand as he took the lead. Every time Touya would hold your hand, your heart would skip a beat. Probably because of the fact that you had one big and fat crush on your best friend.

You were not sure when did it start. Maybe when he pierced his nose, or when people started thinking that the two of you are couple, or maybe the feeling was always there, but you kept it somewhere buried in your mind. Hiding it from everyone and especially from him.

,, Oh, I always wanted to play thing game’’ Touya said, holding a small, black package in his hands. You tried to grab it away from him, but unsuccessfully.

,, What is it ? Show me’’ You squeaked excitedly, hoping it’s something fun.

,, It’s Drunk in love’’ He said, waving the small package in the air. Confusion and jealousy washed over you as you looked at the back of the package. You’ve heard about that game, it’s one for couples.

,, Should we buy it ? I really want to play it’’ He asked. Only confusion was left in your body once he asked you that.

,, Isn’t that a game for couples ?’’ You asked him back.

,, Yeah, but it really isn’t something special, after all everyone is mistaking us for couple, so i don’t see a problem here’’ Touya said, winking at you. ,, Unless you are scared’’ he added fast. You knew that he was just trying to tease you a bit, it was how he always got things his way.

,, You know very well that I ain’t scared. But Touya, that’s not something we should play’’ you said honestly. Sure you would love to play that with him, but you didn’t know what kind of game that really is, so it gave you mixed feelings.

,, Trust me, the game is not a big deal. It’s just fun.’’ He said, looking down at you, hoping you’ll agree with his suggestion. ,, Trust me doll’’ he repeated, and the moment you let a deep breath out and rolled your eyes, Touya knew that he won, making his way to the cashier immediately.

,, Let’s buy something to drink at least’’ you said, hoping that the game won’t be so bad at the end.

,, We have to, it’s a drinking game anyway’’ Touya laughed, placing one arm around you, as the two of you walked to the store with alcohol.

The two of you bought a bottle of vodka, before you made your way home. Not wasting any time, Touya helped you put the groceries in the fridge, before he opened the small package. He took two small glasses for shots, and placed them beside the deck of cards that were already on the table in the living room.

You took two normal glasses and orange juice, in case the vodka might be too much. Touya was already waiting for you, searching for some music on YouTube, as he sat on the floor.

,,Here’’ Touya offered you a cigarette, once you sat on the other side, placing one pillow under your ass. You gladly accepted the cigarette, as you enjoyed the music he found.

The two of you drank few shots of vodka, before you started to play. You weren’t sure what to expect of that game, but if you were being honest, the alcohol was helping you, even tho it was just a little bit.

,, Imma go first’’ Touya said, taking one card. ,, Describe your worst hookup ever or drink’’ he read it out lout. Okay, that wasn’t something so bad, after all, you’ve already talked about it with him.

,, Ehh, that one time I slept with Kai.’’ You said rolling your eyes as you thought about it.

,,Ah, that time when you though he’s still fingering you ?’’ Touya asked, laughing a bit.

,, Yes Touya, his dick was that small’’ You laughed, feeling a little bit more comfy about the stupid game. ,, My turn’’ you added, taking one card.

,, Reveal your biggest sexual fantasy or drink’’ You read it excitedly, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

,, Yeah, no’’ Touya laughed, taking a shot without thinking twice, leaving you all disappointed. ,, Pull another one’’ Touya said, closing his eyes because of the strong taste of the alcohol.

,, Give your parter a piggy back ride around the room or drink’’ a big smile formed on your face as you read the sentence.

,, Easy peasy’’ Touya commented, standing up. The moment he turned around, giving you a sign to hop on his back, you did it. The two of you looked like children, running around the apartment like crazy.

,, Drink if you’ve ever faked an orgasm’’ Touya said, placing the card on the table. Of course you had to drink, thanking God you didn’t have to take a shot for every orgasm you faked.

Card after card, and shot after shot, the two of you were getting tipsier and the cards were getting spicier.

,, Blindfold your partner and make them guess which body part they’re touching or drink’’ Touya read the sentence, glad he was the one who found it first. ,, Yeah, you gonna chicken out ‘’ he teased.

,, Shut up and close your eyes’’ You said thinking about what part you should let him touch. Everything was way too easy to guess. At one point you were almost sure that there was a typo on the card, and that you should touch yourself and he should guess which part, but Touya was 100% sure that he was supposed to touch you.

Taking his hands, you decided that it would be the best if he would touch your collar and breast bones. At your surprise, he was tracing his fingers lightly over your skin, furrowing his eyebrows confusingly as he tried to understand what part of your body he’s touching.

,, Collarbones’’ He said opening his eyes immediately. ,, Ok, you’ve lost, drink’’ he commanded with a smirk on his face, as he took another card.

,, Take one article of clothing or drink’’ Touya placed the card on the table, leaning back onto the lower part of your couch. When he took of his shirt, showing of his perfectly toned body covered with various different tattoos, you realised that the card was referring to both of you. Since your shirt was a bit oversized, you decided to take of your pants.

Trying to ignore the small situation you found yourself in, you took another card fast.

,, Let your partner spank you or drink’’ you read it confusedly, trying to understand what the fuck is happening. Once you understood, you started shaking your head in disbelief, following with one loud laugh. What the fuck did you get yourself into ?

,, Come on doll, come to daddy ‘’ Touya joked, spreading his arms over the couch, as you took the shot of vodka anyway, before you made your way toward him.

Not giving you much time, Touya pulled you down, bending you over his lap. ,, You have no idea how much I wanted to do this’’ He confessed, as he pulled your shirt just enough to show your ass. You couldn’t even focus on his small confession, since you were trying to prepare yourself on the upcoming spanks.

Instead of spanking you, Touya decided to take his time with you, tracing his fingers over your hips and playing with the ends of your panties, pulling them up, forming a thong with them. You were glad that some alcohol was in your system, because you were pretty sure that sober you would never survive that.

,, Now doll, be a good girl and take every single spank for daddy’’ Touya whispered, before he connected his palm with your ass cheek, making you yelp in pain. With every spank he gave you, the pain was getting intenser. But you didn’t mind, after all, isn’t that what you wished for ?

,, Such a good Girl’’ He prised, caressing the red marks he left over your ass. Once you got back on the other side of the table, both you and him started laughing hysterically.

,, Lick your partner below the waist or finish your drink’’ Touya said, smirking widely once again. ,, There’s no way I’m finishing this drink’’ He added, grabbing your arm and pushing you toward him.Touya pushed up on the couch, as he started licking your legs slowly.

You couldn’t believe what the fuck was happening. Both of you half naked, playing some overly sexual game, which led him to licking your legs. You weren’t sure what was driving you more crazy, him licking your legs or his erection that was showing under his grey sweatpants.

Touya placed his hand on your tight, giving in one strong squeeze as he was placing wet kisses on your right inner tight. You could feel his lips getting closer and closer to your private parts, but you didn’t dare to say anything.

,, Wanna know what my fantasy is ?’’ Touya asked, kissing and biting onto the skin around your panties. All you could do is nod your head quietly, lost under his touch and soft kisses.

,, You, you are my biggest fantasy. I want to have you all for myself’’ Touya said hovering over you. ,, I want you to be mine’’ he added, looking you directly in the eyes, before he started leaving soft kisses all over your face.

,, Wanna be mine ? Just you and me doll’’ He asked, biting your lip.

,, Yes’’ You answered him so fast. Fuck yes you want to be his, He didn’t even have to ask you that, you were always his.

Once he heard you say that, Touya pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, letting his hard dick jump straight up. Not breaking the kiss, he started rubbing the tip of his dick around your entrance.

,, Doll, tell me if I’m too rought’’ He said, entering you slowly while he sucked onto your neck, leaving wet love bites. You couldn’t manage to give him a proper answer, hoping that simply nodding your head was understandable enough.

Once he was fully inside of you, he gave you some time to adjust to his size before he started rocking his hips into you. He wasn’t doing it slow, and the position you were in wasn’t the most comfortable one, but you didn’t care about that. All you could think of was the pleasure he was giving you at the moment, mixed with pain.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he rammed into you recklessly, breathing into your neck as his moves were getting stronger and stronger.

,, So tight for me’’ Touya groaned, enjoying the warm feeling your walls were giving him. It felt like you were made just for him. Placing one hand on your hip, and other one on the edge of the couch, he increased his speed, fucking you stronger and deeper than before. With every move he made, he was hitting your g spot, making you moan louder and louder. You were pretty sure that your neighbours were able to hear the two of you, but none of you gave a single fuck.

Both of you were about to cum. His groans were getting louder, and he was fucking you ever harder, while your walls were getting tighter and tighter around him, making it even more enjoyable for him.

,, You can cum inside’’ You managed to say somehow, moaning his name and squeezing your eyes shut once you reached your high.

,, I was planning to ’’ He groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, making it even better for you. After few thrusts, he spilled his seed deep into you. Moving few more times as he made sure to fill you nice and good, not wasting a single drop of his sperm. Once he was done, he collapsed on top of you, fighting for his breath.

,, I love you so much Doll’’ he said, connecting his lips with your own.

,, I love you too’’ You answered him, smiling widely into the kiss.

That night he took care of you, cleaning you, and taking you to his room, making sure that you are alright and that he didn’t hurt you. That night he made sure to clear some things out, he made sure that you wouldn’t think this was some sort of misunderstanding. Telling you how he actually always wanted to ask you out, and how that game was just a chance for him to get him where he is now. With you in his bed, locked between his arms.

That night you understood that your crush was never one sided, and that you were the reason why your best friend never dated anyone else.

Who would have thought that such a dirty game could bring people together ? Would lead them to confessing to each other. You sure didn’t think so, yet there you are, instead of daydreaming about it, you are enjoying the warmth of your best friend, roommate and lover.

[corrodedcoughin]

hiiii! long time, no headcanon, but i'm back with a doozy!

imagine this: robin and steve signing up for a ballroom dancing class (why? doesn't really matter, it could be because robin's cousin is getting married and her parents force her to take classes or it's just them picking up a new hobby, who knows), only to have their jaws dropped to the floor and then some when they see the instructors with their matching curly hair, bright eyes and tight black clothes.

eddie and nancy show the dance they'll be practicing the next couple of weeks and let's just say that steve and robin having trouble keeping the focus on the dance routine because holy shit nancy looks so graceful and holy shit eddie just picks her up and spins her around with such ease, and on their way home steve and robin are both having a full-on crisis because holy shit how are they going to survive the nextclasses if one night alone was torture enough??

things only get worse when robin trips over her feet a couple of times a couple of classes later (this is why she doesn't wear heels), spurring nancy on to help her with the steps (this obviously does not work on bit) and eddie swoops right in to waltz off with steve, who had been left alone to fend for himself. steve is freaking out because eddies's hands (!!!) on his waist (!!!) and he's complimenting steve's form and how good he's doing before he spins steve around, leaving steve dizzy in a way that's not just from dancing.

eddie keeps coming back to him after that, giving him pointers and compliments were needed, paying him much more attention than the other students. steve is left wondering if he's not keeping up with the rest of the class (his teacher wouldn't be paying that much attention to him otherwise right??) so after class, he asks eddie about private lessons, to which (obviously) agrees and let's just say, that private lesson doesn't involve as much dancing as steve had thought

idk that's as far as my brain got but there's just something about eddie in dirty dancing-like dance instructor clothes, his hair in a messy ponytail, and being all suave on the dance floor. 'kay byeeee

Hello!!! Okay so I've trying to come up with a way to answer this that isn't just a keyboard smash because i am INVESTED! GIVE ME DIRTY DANCING RONANCE AND STEDDIE!!!! Steve and Robin 10000% watched dirty dancing and were SQUEELING at the lover boy scene, I JUST KNOW IT!!! Steve wants to be Baby and Robin wants to be Johnny and they both have huge crushes on Penny. I desperately love everythign you said!!!!!

Nancy and Eddie spotted Robin and Steve from the moment they walked through the door and Nancy is nothing if not a Determined Woman so as soon as she see's an opening to swoop in on Robin she takes it. Nancy lets out a sigh and tries to hide as smile as she sees Robin struggle with the steps. Eddie is standing right next to her and mumurs a ‘go get your girl Wheeler'

and Nancy laughs 'I know your game Eddie, you just want her partner freed up. Good thing I'm all about charity and helping the hopeless.'

Eddie doesn't reply, just sticks out his hand and Nancy grips it, they shake hands with a shared 'good luck.'

After the first encounter where Eddie complimented Steve's rhthym and literally anything else he could think of he decides to up his game the next week. Eddie slides up to Steve after Nancy plucks Robin away again. 'so I was thinking, last week I was the lead. And that isn't the way you'll be dancing with your friend, right? So lets switch it up this time around' and with a smile that somehow doesn't betray the bone shattering nerves Eddie is experiencing. He guides Steve's hands, one to sit on Eddie's hip and the other to hold his hand. Steve doesn't move, just stands and stares at his hand on Eddie's waist, wanting to squeeze the warmth radiating under his hand, wanting to drag his fingers over the skin, slowly, and lower, so much lower. But he snaps himself out of it with the hint of a blush on his face and locks eyes with Eddie

'So, ready to tell me what to do?'

Steve feels Eddie's grip on his shoulder tighten for a fraction of a second and absolutely resolutely does NOT think about it when he's on his own later that night (he does).

The next week there's an odd number of people that turns up, normally Eddie would just dance with this person himself but he can't face the thought of not touching Steve. So he brings the single woman and Steve together and says they are going to dance together. Steve panics, worries he'll step on this lady's feet or trip her up but Eddie has a trick up his sleeve.

'Oh don't you worry sweetheart, I'll be guiding you all the way'.

Steve doesn't know what this means, but imagines it will involve Eddie circling around him and his dance partner, telling Steve exactly what to do and when. Infact it is so much worse. Eddie tells Steve and his partner to find their first position together and then, then, Eddie comes up close behind Steve, both hands on his hips as he presses on Steve's waist, talking close to his ear

'I'll keep nice and close Steve, show you exactly what I'm looking for. Exactly how I want you to move'.

In that moment, Steve swear he dies. He stares hard over the shoulder of his partner and prays to god he doesn't let out every sound that is begging to come out of his mouth. He gives as good as he gets though, swaying in close to his partner when he needs and pressing back into Eddie when he can. The pair of them are a complete mess. What Steve doesn't know is his dance partner was a ruse, somebody Nancy invited after she realised she'd have to do something if she didn't want to spend another evening listening to Eddie lament about Steve's smile or his eyes or his eyebrows

('Really Eddie? His eyebrows?'

'You dont understand wheeler, this man is perfection. i'd pet his toe hair if he wanted me to.')