#( then raindrops fell down from the sky — face. )

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Nothing I wouldn't do

pairing: handyman!chan x waitress!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, suggestive

synopsis: you and chan have been together for 3 years. he has never done anything to make you doubt his love for you, but recently you noticed him sneaking out at night...

wc: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, brief descriptions of lovemaking, crying

a/n: i'm tired and preparing a really long fic so i needed a little break, hope you enjoy🫶🏻

~masterlist

Another long shift finally finished, a dull ache appeared in your feet, coursing through your legs and climbing up to your lower back.

There was a headache behind your eyelids, a constant slow pounding that almost made your vision blurry.

You felt overwhelmed, discouraged and hungry.

Today was a particularly difficult day at the restaurant you work at, exhausting you to your limits and pushing you further.

Another reason your anxiety spiked up was because you got yelled at by your manager for something that wasn't entirely your fault and you had to bite your tongue and swallow your tears like you always do.

As you stepped out into the street, the dark night enveloping you, your tired legs started taking you on the familiar path to your home.

You were barely awake as you walked, the people passing you by looked blurry and unrecognizable, you couldn't even make out their faces.

You closed your eyes for a second, but that was one second too long as you tripped on the cracked sidewalk and fell down, scraping your hands and knees in the process.

"Miss, are you alright?" someone crouched down to help you.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." you said to the stranger, your tears blurring your vision of their face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." you tried to be polite, hoping they would back off because now you wanted to get home even faster.

You continued walking, now in more pain as the wind picked up, grazing your bleeding skin.

Tears streamed down your cheeks quietly as the sky became darker.

You picked up your pace, realizing it will soon start raining.

Arriving to your building just in time, you ran inside and up the stairs to the 6th and last floor where you and your boyfriend lived.

He was working even later than you today, so he couldn't pick you up as his work lead him across town for the time being.

Rain started pouring outside just as you managed to close the door to your apartment, smacking it into place multiple times until it finally clicked.

You quickly ran to grab some buckets as the roof was flimsy, whenever it rained, your apartment would be drenched in water too unless you strategically placed the buckets so they could collect the raindrops.

After doing that, you finally caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cringed.

You were still in your waitress unifrom, your hair now a mess, mascara streaks on your cheeks from crying, your hands and legs covered in bloody scratches.

You decided to quickly clean up so you can make dinner for Chan and yourself, preferably before he arrives home.

Swallowing more tears that threatened to come out, you made your way to the bathroom to clean up.

Luckily, you had hot water finally, the last three months you had to somehow survive without it once your water heater broke.

Sometimes you took double shifts at the restaurant, or just begged your boss to let you work without a day off.

Chan hated when you did that, hated seeing you so tired that you barely stood on your feet, your eyes sad and distant when you'd come home.

He begged you not to do it, promising he'd find a way to make more money, promising that he'll take care of you, telling you how you deserve better which you'd quickly shut down, not wanting him to feel guilty because it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either, that's just how the cards were dealt and the two of you were trying your best to make something out of nothing.

Chan arrived just in time as you were finishing up with dinner, a smile gracing his tired face as soon as he saw you standing before the stove, dressed in his shirt.

You looked at him over your shoulder and though he could see the tiredness on your features, to him you looked more and more beautiful every single day.

"Hey, baby." you greeted him just as he wrapped his arms around you, your tired muscles instantly melting into his warmth and comfort.

You could fall asleep standing if you weren't so hungry.

"Love." he hummed against you, leaning over your shoulder to kiss the corner of your lips. "Smells nice." Chan nuzzled into your hair, taking a whiff of your shampoo.

"What, the food or me?" you chuckled, teasing him.

"Both." he giggled, gently moving you left and right as he tightened his hold on you.

"Go wash up then, it's almost done." you said, his hands coming up to touch yours.

That's when he noticed the scratches, panic overtaking him instantly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

"What happened?" he asked, a shaky breath escaping his lips.

"I fell. It's nothing." you quickly shook your head but he spun you around before you could even protest.

"Babe, your legs." Chan gasped.

"It's fine, really. It doesn't hurt too much." you averted your eyes.

His fingers came up to touch your chin as he made you look at him.

"I'll pick you up next time, I promise. Even if I have to speed across the city."

"Don't even think about that." you shivered, negative thoughts appearing in your mind instantly.

If you lost him, you wouldn't have anything.

"Okay, okay, I'll go wash up." he kissed you gently before skipping to the bathroom.

You served dinner on the small table, your plates clinking together as you tried to make it look somewhat presentable.

These little things always made a difference.

The fresh flowers on your windowsill, the pretty tablecloth you managed to find for a cheap price, a warm home cooked meal, your lover sitting across from you with a smile on his face.

The space was so cramped that your knees were pressed up together but in the case of the two of you, close could never be close enough.

You know Chan would gladly crawl right into your heart if you could keep him there, safe and sound.

He helped you wash the dishes, both of you talking about your day like you always do.

"That place is a shithole, y/n. You deserve so much better. Your manager is a fucking knucklehead. Do you want me to rough him up a little?" Chan asked, setting the clean plate aside.

You chuckled, smacking his bicep playfully as you peered up at him.

"Yes, get me fired. Save me from that hellhole." you joked with a dramatic hand to your forehead.

"You know you could always look at other places."

"Isn't it just the same thing? I don't have many qualifications anyways."

"I know but maybe a different restaurant has a better manager if nothing else." Chan offers, as you lean on the sink, wiping your hands.

"Or they could be even worse." you said as he stood before you, his arms landing on your waist.

Chan leaned in to kiss you, slowly and lovingly, your stomach doing all sorts of flips like you haven't been together for years, like you haven't done this before.

"How about we stop talking about work and start talking about more fun topics?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers grazing his muscles, on display for you as he wore his tanktop.

"You're not in pain?" he motioned to your thighs and arms, still stinging albeit dulled now.

"I trust you to be gentle." you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him again, your hands holding his cheeks.

The two of you fell into a lovers embrace, tongues entwined, fingertips gently exploring, your cores connected in a heated movement that ended in pure bliss.

"I love you." you whispered as Chan scooped you up in his protective arms.

"I love you, darling." he kissed your temple as you drifted off to sleep.

-

You noticed it for the first time that same night.

You were so exhausted, jolted out of your deep sleep that you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Chan's figure walking towards the door and disappearing.

Your eyes fell to the clock next to your bed, reading 2am.

You wanted to wake up, ask him where he's going but you couldn't fight the sleep that was overtaking you.

The next morning, you forgot about it as you saw Chan making breakfast for the two of you, the day starting as normal as ever, a familiar routine taking place.

Your knees pressed together as you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling up the space, the birds singing in front of the window as you chatted.

The next twenty minutes consisted of the two of you knocking against each other and the furniture as you tried to get ready for work.

The smiles on your faces never faltered as every second spent together was precious, even the mundane things like brushing your teeth together became romantic in your eyes.

Chan refused to stop kissing you in front of the door until you smacked his chest enough times to make him realize that you'll be late for work if he doesn't drive you right now.

It was a nice and fresh day outside and briefly you remembered the vision you had last night of Chan leaving but you chalked it up to a dream.

-

The dream however, kept repeating sporadically throughout the week.

You'd be half awake, watching your boyfriend's back as he'd gather his jacket and toolbox, only to leave quietly into the night.

Doubts started to fill your mind.

You knew you could just ask him where he was going, but the fact that he didn't share it beforehand, when the two of you usually shared your deepest and darkest secrets, created a painful feeling in your gut and chest.

It was more than suspicious, him sneaking out at night and the fear of losing him clouded your mind.

So one night as he left, waking you up accidentally in the process, you couldn't fall back asleep.

Tears filled up your eyes as you clutched onto his pillow that smelled just like him, comforting and yours.

What was he doing? You didn't want your mind to go to horrible places, like Chan meeting up with someone else because if that turned out to be true, your heart would shatter into pieces.

Pieces you'd never be able to pick up, never be able to love again.

So, you waited for him to come back home, making yourself some coffee so you don't fall asleep.

Chan came back home around 6am, just 30 minutes before you usually wake up.

"Oh, y/n. You're awake." he swallowed, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yes, I've been awake for hours." you looked at him as he stood still by the door, nervously looking left and right.

"I- I just..."

"Where were you? Or better yet, where do you sneak off to every other night?" you tapped your fingers against the cup, your heart beating fast as you tried to sound and look calm, but your eyes were already filling up with tears.

"Y-you know?" Chan gulped, standing like a statue.

You scoffed, a tear sliding down your cheek.

You wiped it away angrily as you stood up and his eyes widened.

"I thought we didn't have any secrets between us. But you're obviously going behind my back. Just please, explain."

"Please don't be mad at me!" Chan quickly made his way to you but you took a step back from him, your backside colliding into the sink.

Hurt flashed across his eyes before realization hit him.

How this must look to you.

"Oh, you think..." he shook his head. "It's nothing like that. Actually, you weren't supposed to find out like this. I just wanted to make some extra money so I started repairing stuff as a 24/7 service. You know, for stores that work around the clock, anything that is opened during the night shift like casinos and clubs. If something happens in people's houses during the night. I figured since I have trouble sleeping, I'd do something productive."

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh of disbelief, tears still staining your cheeks.

"You bastard!" you smacked his chest, but there was a smile on your face which let Chan know you weren't that mad at him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Do you know how much you scared me?" you smacked his chest once again for good measure before he grabbed your hands gently, bringing them up to your lips and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry, I will never keep something from you again. It's just that it was supposed to be a surprise."

"What surprise?" your brows furrowed as Chan sighed, turning around to rummage through his jacket that he'd left on the chair immediately.

You peered at his hands, your eyes widening and a gasp escaping your lips as he produced a little velvet box out of his pocket.

"Is that-" you stuttered, fresh tears pricking your eyes.

"Mhm." he nodded. "But I wanted us to have this romantic dinner and-"

"This is romantic enough." you stopped him, your voice eager.

Chan chuckled and then smirked.

"Are you sure you want me to propose all greasy in the middle of the kitchen at 6am?"

"I'm sure." you giggled, your body heating up with excitement.

"I was gonna prepare a speech." he muttered before getting down on one knee.

"Y/n, even though I don't have much, what I do have I want to share with you. And that is all my love and my complete and utter devotion that I want to share with you for the rest of my life. So will you marry me?" Chan looked up at you hopefully as he opened up the little box, revealing a beautiful ring inside it.

"Yes!" you cried, quickly wrapping your arms around him as you stumbled forwards into his embrace, making him giggle happily.

You held each other tightly for some time, just reveling in the moment of your hearts beating against one another in unison.

As you pulled away, Chan slid the ring on your finger as your heart skipped a beat.

"Never scare me like that again." you said, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, my love. I promise I won't."

Your lips crashed together in a sweet and passionate kiss, your whole body tingling with so many feelings and one thought in your head.

Whatever life throws at you, as long as you come home to each other at the end of the day, everything will be just fine.

-

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house

[monserelates]

The Fall ; James Potter

⇨james potter x f!reader

⇨ summary: When, on a rainy afternoon, James Potter falls off his broom.

⇨ warnings: hurt!james, cursing, idiots in love, fluff, angst???, idk what else

word count: 1.1k

The Gryffindor Common Room hummed with chatter. On the floor in front of the hearth sat the Marauders, sprawled like lazy cats—James half-reclined with his back against the couch where you, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas lounged with blankets and half-finished homework scattered around.

“I’m just saying,” James declared, tossing a Bertie Bott’s bean into the air and catching it. “Tomorrow’s the match of the season. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. It’s war.”

“It’s weather,” said Lily, flipping a page in her Charms book. “There’s a 70% chance of thunder.”

“That’s why I need my support team.” He pointed dramatically at all of you. “You’re contractually obligated to attend and scream your hearts out.”

“I didn’t sign anything,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He turned toward you with that boyish, too-big grin. “Fine. Come for me, then.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but James scooped you up and started spinning you around like a princess.

“Stop!” You said between laughs as he finally let you down gently on the couch.

“Gross,” Sirius muttered. “Do this after we leave the room.”

Dorcas chuckled. Marlene nudged you with her socked foot. “We’ll come,” she said sweetly, “but only if someone does a backflip off their broom.”

“I’ll die,” James replied.

“Good,” Lily muttered.

You smiled without meaning to.

———

It was raining.

No, it was drenching.

The kind of storm that blurred the sky and soaked your bones through every layer of wool and scarlet. The pitch was nearly invisible under sheets of cold silver, the wind howling like it had something personal against Hogwarts itself.

You could barely see the players.

Just flashes of crimson and green tearing through fog. Thunder cracked somewhere distant—too distant to matter

James was up there, somewhere near the clouds.

Fast. Sharp. Golden, even now. He moved like he belonged in the air, like gravity had never dared touch him.

Then—

CRACK.

Not thunder.

A Bludger.

So fast you almost missed it—

It shot through the rain and smashed into James’ face with bone-cracking force.

He jerked back, broom slipping beneath him.

And then—he fell.

Arms flailing for half a second. Legs slack. Head tilted at a sick angle.

The crowd screamed.

Marlene’s hand flew to her mouth.

Lily stood.

And you—

You stopped breathing.

The stadium went silent—unnaturally silent.

His broom spun off into the rain, abandoned.

And his body?

Falling, falling, falling.

All you saw was a flash of broken glasses as they flew from his face mid-air and shattered somewhere in the mud below.

“JAMES!”

You were moving before you could think, elbowing past students, ignoring the mud soaking your boots, your skirt. People were crowding toward the railing—you pushed through them like they were nothing.

“Get out of the way—MOVE—let me through!”

You slipped on the steps, caught yourself, kept running.

Everything else faded.

The world narrowed into a tunnel: rain, wind, and the boy who had fallen from the sky.

He lay on the pitch, limp, soaked, unmoving.

You dropped to your knees so hard it stung, didn’t care.

His glasses were gone. There was a cut on his brow, already bleeding into the stormwater.

“James?” your voice broke, “James—please—”

You cradled his face in trembling hands, brushed soaked curls from his forehead. He didn’t stir.

“No—no no no—come on, idiot—wake up—this isn’t funny—”

You didn’t realize you were crying until a raindrop hit your lip and tasted like salt. Your heart was punching against your ribs. You were begging the universe.

And then—

His lips parted.

“M’fine…” he mumbled. “You look like hell.”

“You’re literally unconscious.”

“I fell… for you.”

You sob-laughed and nearly smacked him.

Sirius skidded into the mud behind you with Remus and Peter close behind.

“Pomfrey’s on her way,” he called. “Bloody hell, Prongs, you scared the shit out of—”

“Don’t touch him,” you snapped, still shielding him with your arms.

“Wasn’t gonna,” Sirius muttered, and you swore he smiled a little.

Somewhere behind you, McGonagall whispered to Flitwick:

“I told you she’d be the first one down there.”

“I owe you five Galleons.”

———

It was quiet in the hospital wing.

A strange kind of quiet—soft and thick, the kind you only notice when you’ve just woken from something that could’ve ended worse than it did.

James stirred slowly, like someone swimming up from a deep, heavy sleep. His head ached. His ribs felt like they’d been used as Bludger practice. One eye refused to open all the way, and when he reached for his glasses on instinct, his hand closed on nothing.

Broken. Right.

A groan slipped past his lips, hoarse and pained.

That’s when he noticed her.

You.

Curled up in the stiff wooden chair beside his bed, parchment in your lap, a half-scribbled essay sliding from your hand. Your wand sat on the bedside table, casting a soft, golden light like a candle just for him. Your head rested on your forearm, your hair messy, ink smudged on your fingers. You looked exhausted.

You also looked like you’d never left.

He blinked slowly.

Once.

Twice.

He didn’t speak. Just watched. Let the ache in his body settle next to the warmth in his chest.

You’d stayed.

You always stayed.

Madam Pomfrey padded by at the end of the room, pausing when she saw his eyes open. She raised an eyebrow, said nothing—only nodded slightly in your direction, a knowing look in her eye. Then she kept walking.

Outside the curtain, he could hear someone whispering:

“McGonagall, it’s not fair—five Galleons! Five!”

“She was the first one on the pitch, Filius. You bet on Lily.”

“I said she was in love with him!”

“That’s not the point of the bet, Horace.”

James closed his eyes again for a second, smiling faintly.

When he opened them, you stirred—groggy, blinking, like you were shaking off a dream.

“James?”

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up so fast the essay flew to the floor.

“You—you’re awake. Oh my God—how do you feel? Wait—don’t talk. Madam Pomfrey said you might have a concussion—Merlin’s beard, you look awful—”

“You look worse,” he whispered, smiling crookedly.

You stared at him. For a second, your bottom lip trembled. And then—

��Don’t ever do that again, Potter. I thought—”

Your voice broke. You looked away.

James reached for your hand, and this time, you didn’t pull back. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, careful, reverent.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Because of you.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. Just looked down at your intertwined fingers. Then, quietly:

“You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to love one.”

You didn’t answer. But your hand squeezed his, and he knew. He knew.

[belovaballerina]

Our Merge is Eternal

Grotequerie: Father Charlie Mayhew x fem!reader 

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

WC: 2k 

Prompt: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” -Cirice by Ghost for @sweetspicybingo (Lyrical Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), religious imagery, religious guilt, handjob, public sex, spanking, whipping, pain play, penance, verbal humiliation, manipulation, bondage and sacrilege

Summary: Penance can be a beautiful, wonderful release

“Bless me, Father, for have I sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession.”

It always started the same way: with you in the confessional booth, the screen blurring Father Mayhew’s face, and you squirming on your knees as your sins poured from your lips. It always ended the same way: blistering pain delivered with the palm of his hand, the sharp crack of leather or sturdy wood (penance), on your knees with his cock in your mouth as tears dripped down your cheeks (guidance) and curled in his lap as he wiped your tears away (forgiveness). He was careful, allowing only your mouth and hands to pleasure him, as he did the same with you, always avoiding fucking. The sin of fornication will not consume us, he had whispered against your wet thigh with his mouth coated in your juices.

“I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

Every two weeks, like clockwork. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat. It kept you going and gave you something to look forward to, even if something was twisted about it. You welcomed the dalliance, running headfirst into it and into the arms of Father Charlie Mayhew. Those brown eyes would be your undoing, but who better than to forgive you than a man of God?

The cycle came full circle once again as you entered the confessional, arousal pooling hot and thick between your thighs and causing you to press them together tightly to dull the ache. The partition whooshed open, and you began your confession. The vulgar words fell from your tongue as you admitted your sin of self-pleasure. You felt unnerved as you were met with silence. Perhaps this had run its course.

“I want you to meet me tonight in the church,” he whispered, his face obscured by the screen.

Your heart thrummed in your chest. You were used to it happening in his office after he had finished with confession. This was something new. A break in the usual routine. It thrilled you.

“Yes, Father, what time?” you asked, hands still folded before you.

“At midnight. I’ll see you then,” Charlie responded before slamming the partition close. You move your hand through the sign of the cross before hurrying away.

A storm rolled in that evening, making the air hot and heavy, and thick raindrops poured from the gray sky. Thunder cracked through the air as lightning lit up the dark sky with bright bursts. You shivered as you hurried through the heavy doors, rain soaking through your clothes and leaving your skin feeling clammy as you made your way into the chapel. You had attended midnight mass, but beautiful candles had illuminated the room, which remained eerily dark tonight. A loud clap of thunder made you jump, and a crack of lightning brought Father Mayhew into view.

He stood at the pulpit in his black cassock, his expression stern and a rope dangling from one hand. You swallowed, approaching him slowly, unsure of what would unfold this evening as hee stepped down to meet you.

“On your knees, sinful girl,” he instructed, and you obeyed without a second thought. 

Instinctively, you lifted your wrists toward him, your palms pressed together. He guided your arms straight up into the air, sliding your shirt overhead, and your cheeks burned hot as your bare breasts were exposed. He tutted, giving one of your nipples a chastising pinch. You watched with wide eyes and bated breath as he looped the rope around your wrist, securing them with an elegant knot. His hand gripped your chin, thumb pressing to your lower lip before tracing around the outline of your mouth. Your stomach twisted as heat palpated deeper. He tugged you to your feet with a firm grip on your roped wrists before circling you.

“You come to me repeatedly, confessing the same sin,” he stated, his dark eyes boring into you.

Your mouth felt dry. “I fear I need guidance, Father. I simply find myself giving into temptation.”

He stood behind you, his hand slapping down firmly against your ass and making you stumble over your feet.

“And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell,” he hissed into your ear, his hand crashing down against your backside over and over. Pain blossomed across your skin.

“Matthew 5:30, Father,” you sniffled as he pulled your body flush against his. Your back against his chest, and you could feel it heaving with every breath he took.

“Good girl,” he purred, one warm hand pressing against your stomach, fingers dipping into the waistband of your loose-fitting black joggers, “Is that what I should do? Cut off your hands to keep them from wandering between your thighs, to keep your fingers from dipping into your greedy little cunt?”

You let out a garbled cry, unsure of how to respond as his hand plunged into your pants and underwear, his fingers immediately seeking your drenched pussy.

“I fear for your soul, child,” he whispered as his fingertips skimmed over your folds. Your lower lip trembled. His hand squeezed your right hip, a comforting touch that kept you grounded and assured you that you were safe. All you had to do was utter a simple word, and he would stop, letting you go about your evening. Either of you could end this sinful dalliance at a moment’s notice, but it just felt so good.

“Don’t let me go astray, Father. Teach me, guide me,” you moaned, caught up in the moment and willing to explore whatever he had planned.

“I will do just that. Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Guide me, Father, for I am but a lamb lost among the wolves.

He pulled his hand away before pushing you onto your knees and then onto your stomach before removing your shoes and tugging the clothing away from your lower half. Your face felt like it was on fire as you were exposed in such a sacred, holy area. Your eyes flickered to the statue of Mother Mary, feeling her judgment upon you. Have mercy on me, Mother.

His hands roamed over your naked skin, squeezing your prickled flesh before resting on the swell of your ass. Tears burned your eyes as his hand smacked down, over and over, searing his burning mark into your skin. You squirmed against the carpet, feeling the rug burn, irritating your stomach. You choked on your tears as they rolled hotly down your cheeks, chasing this feeling and murmuring prayers of repentance. O loving and gracious God, have mercy. Have pity upon me and take away the awful stain of my sin.

Charlie’s body pressed ontop of yours, his teeth seeking out the soft curve of your throat. You felt the swell of his erection against your abused ass. His knee slipped between your legs, pressing against your dripping cunt.

“Even now, in the sanctity of the church, your penance doesn’t deter you from your sinful nature,” he hissed into your ear before sinking his teeth into your neck. Your eyes rolled back, relishing in the sweet pop of pain that throbs through your body, rutting against his knee. 

All you could do was mewl pathetically in response as he rolled you onto your back and then cupped your face in his hands. He took in the sight of your tear-stained face and swollen lips, a small pang thrummed through his heart.

“How can I judge you so? You are no more sinful than I,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs over your tear tracks. His lips pressed against your trembling ones before undoing the ropes and pulling away from you.

You sniffled, struggling to catch your breath as you watched him stand and stretch out his arms before peeling his clothing away. The lightning bathed his skin in an eerie glow as you drank in the sight of his muscular body. It seemed wrong for a priest to be so beautiful and tempting. But God tests us in mysterious ways.

“You are so gracious in guiding me onto a righteous path. Let me help you,” you offered, extending your hand toward him.

His gaze softened, and you were lost in those warm brown eyes for a moment—endless pools of amber that you would gladly drown in. He sank to his knees, pressing his hand into yours before pulling your naked body against his.

“Would you?” he asked in earnest.

“Yes,” you smiled, stroking your fingers through his dark hair.

He kissed you again before handing you his knotted white cincture, pure as the driven snow.

“Turn around,” you instructed, smoothing your hand over his bare chest before getting used to the feel of the item in your hands. The darkness consumed you both, and you knew exactly what he was asking for.

He presented his bare back, laced with scars and a few open wounds that must have been placed earlier today. You traced your fingers over his skin, memorizing the layout of the marks and making a map of the area to lay the blows. It will be less intense than the leather cat o’nine tails, but it will suffice for now. You brought down the knotted rope against his skin, delighting in the grunt that he emitted. It doesn’t draw blood, but even in the dark light of the church, you can see the bruises blooming-mottled and purple.

You tossed the cincture aside, dropping to your knees behind him. Your lips ghosted over the marks, tongue pressing against a fresh one, throbbing against his skin and tasting the tang of blood. Charlie shivered under your touch as your hand slipped down his taut stomach to grasp his cock. You gently stroked and tugged on his rigid flesh as he arched against your hand as you danced him to the edge of a blessed release.

“Come for me, Father,” you purred into his ear, drunk on the dark power flowing through your veins. 

He spilled into your palm, sticky and pearlescent, as the sweetess moan fell from his parted lips. His head lolled back, resting against the plush pillows of your breasts. He rested against you, gathering his strength, and your head spun as he lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the altar. He lowered you onto the draped table, and you squirmed as your bare, sore ass came in contact with the hard, unforgiving surface. Charlie looked almost devilish as he dropped between your thighs, splaying them wide for him before swiping his tongue over your quivering cunt.

“Recite the Act of Contrition,” he ordered before dipping his tongue inside you.

You gasped, threading your fingers through his hair and rocking against his mouth.

“Oh My God, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to sin and failing to do good, I have sinned against you and your church.”

Charlie’s tongue pressed to your throbbing clit, tracing the delicate bud. It felt like wanton encouragement.

“I firmly intend, with the help of your Son, to make up for my sins.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, needy whines spilling from your mouth as pressure built in your lower belly—unbearable heat, making you think of the hellfire burning your skin.

“And to love as I should. Amen.” The words fell, garbled, and strangled from your mouth before a loud moans bled through the hallowed alcove. An intense orgasm washed over you, the bands of pleasure snapping through your belly as Charlie’s warm mouth pleasured you.

“Amen,” he whispered against your warm, wet flesh before lifting his head. His mouth coated in your release, and his dark eyes seemed to glow. Sinners, both of you, fallible and susceptible to the temptations of the flesh. Tainted by the sin of lust.

Your eyes meet his, the realization that the two of you are forever intertwined in sin. Lost in the waves of immorality together.

The hot water scalded your skin as you stood under the pounding water pouring from the showerhead. You scrubbed at your skin, washing away the lingering transgressions clinging to your tainted flesh. The cycle repeats two weeks later.

[spiderb00]

- KISSING SCARS

Megn Skiendiel x reader  

“Your job was easier with Megan by your side” 

Genre – fluff     Warnings – none 

(request) 

Now playing – All That Matters, by Justin Bieber 

“Take the gas out the car, it won’t drive. That’s how i feel when you’re not by my side” 

The flashes of the cameras followed you momentarily, the screaming made your ears ring and the sweat that stuck to your skin made you feel disgusting. Despite everything, it still felt good, the taste of victory sweet in your mouth. The fight had been spectacular, and despite the bruises on your face, the victory was given to you with honor.

Driving was out of the question for you at that point, you were so tired that you were sure you would cause an accident if you tried to drive. Luckily, your coach was more than willing to give you a lift home, where you could finally rest in the arms of your girlfriend.

Megan.

The Chinese girl was your best friend, your companion at all times, your love for life. Your routines were very hectic, you as a professional wrestler, she as a pop star, you both rarely had time to relax. But when you did, you always made the most of it. You and Megan made it work, you made your relationship move forward, even with so many things trying to stop you, and you loved that girl for it.

You said a quick goodbye to your trainer before running towards the front door. Pulling up the hood of your hoodie, you tried to open the door with your key. Raindrops were starting to fall from the sky, and that was very gratifying for you. All you wanted now was to lie cuddled up with your girlfriend while the rain fell outside, there was no better way for the night to end.

Entering the house, you took a deep breath, leaning against the door and letting the air out of your lungs. The house smelled of your girlfriend, and you knew she had probably been there all day, doing things she usually did on her day off. The living room was empty, but it was almost as if you could see her, playing video games, watching funny movies, yelling on the phone at Yoonchae while playing roblox, and you're pretty sure she might have eaten your entire stash of chocolates, but that's okay.

Almost as a cue, the girl - who now had black hair with pink streaks - came down the stairs shouting your name. You could barely react when Megan jumped into your arms, making you drop the backpack you were carrying. Her hands reached for the sides of your face, and she blindly pressed her lips to yours.

The kiss was sweet, calm, saying everything you had wanted to say all day. The longing rooted in every breath and every little hum you made in the kiss. Trying to get more comfortable, one of Megan's hands ran to the back of your neck, while the other hand remained on your cheek. Even though you didn't want to, you couldn't help but pull away from the kiss when your girlfriend's thumb pressed on the bruise near your eye.

The groan of pain that came from your lips alerted Megan, who got off you carefully, as if you were going to break if she made any sudden movements. "Baby, you're really hurt!"

Your girlfriend said, only now seeming to notice all the scratches and bruises on your face. Megan's hands ran gently over your cheeks, turning your head to the left to see if there was anything else to see.

"It's all right. It's normal, baby." You say, trying to reassure your girlfriend. "I'm a fighter, I'm going to get hurt." The smile you gave Megan didn't reassure her that much, but it did manage to take a weight off her shoulders.

"Come on, let's bandage you up."

Megan's hand reached for yours, guiding you to the bathroom upstairs. The brown-haired girl's hand was warm against yours, making you feel at home, making you feel safe, making you feel loved.

The brunette jumped onto the sink counter, after grabbing the first-aid kit from the cupboard drawer. Her hands hit her thighs, and you took that as a sign for you to come closer. Your hands slid down Megan's thighs as you positioned yourself between the girl's legs, watching her open the first aid kit and start cleaning your wounds.

"That burns." Frowning, you groaned in pain, letting Megan continue tending to your scratches.

"I know, baby. But it'll get better." The girl's voice sounded like honey in your ears, and you smiled slightly at her.

Megan's hands were delicate on your skin, the absorbent cotton gently brushed over the cuts and you could feel the love flowing from her touches as she tried to fix you up.

"All right. Do you want Spiderman or Superman?" Raising the band-aid, the girl showed you the options you had.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes in amusement. "Spiderman."

"Obviously." Megan rolled her eyes, knowing that would be your answer.

Placing the band-aid on your forehead, Megan kissed the covered scratch and smiled at you. Her eyes were always beautiful, and you never got tired of looking at them, her nose was perfectly sculpted and you wanted to kiss the tip every time, her lips were plump and always made you forget everything around you.

Just like now.

You didn't even notice the way your faces were close, practically glued together, except for a few centimeters preventing the two of you from finally connecting. Inches that were quickly forgotten when you moved closer and sealed your lips with hers.

Megan's hands ran down your neck while yours settled on her waist, your fingertips pressing into the soft skin, making her gasp into the kiss. Running her hands down your spine, Megan reached for the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it up until her hands were in contact with your skin.

Grabbing the girl's thighs, you lifted her off the sink, the kiss being interrupted by a surprised cry from your girlfriend. The smile on your face was all Megan needed to know that you were okay, and it put her heart at ease. As much as the girl loved you winning every fight, and how happy you were about it, she also hated seeing you get beaten up, even just a little.

"Are you going to take me to bed, champ?" The brunette asked, running her fingers gently through your hair.

"I mean, if you want…"

hey guys, how are we?

hope you're all well, because WE'RE SO BACK! Did you see the video? the photos? everything! damn, I love those girls.

and finally, enjoy!

[fleurliz]

𝒟rop top

anton x f!r    (  ≧ᗜ≦)    fluff   ──────✿  ❕ kissing , reader wear a skirt,pure fluff

The sky cracked open sometime after sunset — you felt the first drops as you and Anton stumbled out of the old café, hands brushing but not quite holding yet.

When he looked up and saw the black clouds and the first fat raindrops, he laughed. “Uh-oh.”

Neither of you had an umbrella. Neither of you even thought about running for shelter.

You were in that little skirt he always said he liked, the one that made his ears turn pink when you spun around in it. Now it was sticking to your thighs, rain dripping from your hair, but all you could see was him.

“God, you’re gonna catch a cold,” he murmured, but his hands were already cradling your face, thumbs swiping at the wet strands stuck to your cheeks.

“And you’re gonna ruin your pretty hair,” you shot back, breathless. It made him laugh, that quiet little laugh only you ever heard.

You squealed when a cold drop splashed on your forehead. He caught your hand — warm, so warm even as the rain fell colder — and tugged you down the street.

“Run!” he yelled, laughing so hard he nearly tripped.

You ran with him, both of you dodging puddles, laughing too loud, the rain soaking through your clothes in seconds. You clutched his hand like your life depended on it — like if you let go, the sky itself would swallow you whole.

At the corner, he slowed down, breathless, hair plastered to his forehead. You were both panting, chests heaving, raindrops running down your eyelashes.

You were about to say something stupid — a giggly “We’re so wet!” — when he caught your wrist and yanked you flush against him. The laughter died in your throat.

His eyes darted over your face, wide and dark, searching. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, and the rain kept drumming on his shoulders, yours, the street around you.

Then he kissed you.

Not gentle. Not shy.

He kissed you like he’d been drowning for years and only just found air again. His mouth moved against yours with an aching hunger — tasting the rain on your tongue, stealing every breath you tried to take. His fingers slid into your wet hair, tugging just enough to make your knees weak.

You gasped into him, hands fisting his shirt so hard you knew you’d stretch it out. He didn’t care. His other hand splayed wide over your back, holding you there, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

It was messy. It was wet. It was everything.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your eyes half-closed, and your laugh came out shaky. He pressed his forehead to yours, still breathing hard, a grin splitting his face.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that since you ordered that stupid iced latte,” he panted.

You giggled, pushing your nose against his. “You’re insane, Anton.”

“Only for you.” And just like that — he kissed you again, harder this time, in the middle of the street while the rain kept falling like it would never stop.

guyss i had this in my draft for so long so i dont rlly know if thats great ?😭 i just wanted to post something and it sas there soo… u can send req if u want about any of the riize’s member !!

[salemrph]

Midnight Rain

A/N: Quick Idea. We had a dance with Xavier and Zayne, and the memory of running under the rain with Rafayel. But… what if we put dance and rain together while holding hands with Sylus? I’m getting flustered...

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/You

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 933 | Reading Time: 3 min | AO3

The first raindrops fell in soft, hesitant pats against the pavement. By the time you and Sylus reached a place to take shelter, the sky had fully blacked out, drenching the streets in silver drops. The neon glow signs from the N109 Zone reflected off the wet ground, creating a dreamy hue around you both. 

You sneeze. You shivered slightly, the sudden chill of the rain mixed with the coolness of the night creeping into your bones. Without a word, Sylus slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His scent clung to the fabric, wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. His fingers lingered a little too long at your collarbone before he pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets with a smirk.

"Guess we’re stuck here for a while," he mused, his eyes flicking from the rain to your face. 

“Can't you just teleport us to the base?” Sylus looks at you confused but amused. 

“That's not how my Evol works…” you’re a little upset because you want to sit her by the fireplace as soon as possible. "But… we can do something else.” 

Your ears twitch, waiting for your boyfriend to tell you the quickest way to get home.

“Dance with me in the rain"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but the way his voice dipped into a softer tone made your pulse stutter. "Sylus, it’s pouring. We’ll get soaked."

"And?" He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Is the kitten scared of a little water?"

You narrowed your eyes on him, challenging. "No…!"

Without waiting for a response, you stepped into the rain. The cold was sharp at first, seeping through your clothes instantly, but the moment Sylus followed, grabbing your wrist and spinning you toward him, warmth spread through you. His laughter was rare, but tonight, it was rich and unrestrained, blending with the rhythm of the downpour. 

The romantic moment contrasts with what you were doing just half an hour before. running, hiding, investigating. All of it was just to complete the main mission: eliminating a few of Onychinus’ enemies.

His hands found your waist, pulling you close as you swayed in place. The world around you blurred. Just the two of you in the midst of the storm. Raindrops traced down his cheekbones, clung to his lashes, but all you could focus on was how he looked at you, like you were something worth getting lost in.

You tilt your head slightly, resting against his chest, and without thinking, you start to hum, a soft, random tune that drifts between the raindrops.

"That song…" he murmurs. "Is it something you know?"

You pause for a moment, then smile. "Not really. Just… something in my head."

He hums in response, a content sound that vibrates through his chest. "Keep going."

So you do. The melody is unstructured, nothing more than a passing thought turned into sound. You keep moving under the rain.

Sylus presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. "I…like to hear you sing. You have a nice voice. "

The moment stretched, his breath warm despite the cold. His hands tightened ever so slightly at your waist, hesitant, almost waiting. And then, without overthinking, you reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead before pressing your lips to his.

The rain became irrelevant. The chill disappeared. It was only the taste of him, the way his lips pressed urgently against yours, the way his fingers curled into the small of your back like he was afraid to let go. Time melted into the storm, into the warmth of his embrace.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Sylus rested his forehead against yours, his grin softer now. "Told you the rain wasn’t so bad."

You laughed, shivering as he pulled you closer, hugging you. 

—

On the roofs of the adjoining buildings there are two figures sitting in the rain. They don't really care about getting wet.

"Should we interrupt? Luke asks, twirling his car keys on his finger.

"Sure, go on, the boss will punish you by having to clean the library. Or worse, he'll make you read all the books"

Luke wrinkles his nose "But there are no comics..."

"Exactly"

[viaaaviaaa21]

Empty House, Thunderstorm, and Silent Confessions - Johnny Sinclair x reader

The house was empty. Truly empty. That kind of empty that echoed against the walls, that clung to furniture, that made you listen for sounds that weren’t really there.

The others had gone. Harris had declared a trip to town was necessary. “Resupply,” he’d said. Gat had rolled his eyes. Cadence had followed without protest. Mirren had grumbled, of course, but climbed into the car.

And you… you stayed behind. Officially to rest. Unofficially, because Johnny had stayed too.

You hadn’t seen him right away. He had slipped away as soon as the car disappeared down the drive. You wandered through the hallways, fingers gliding lazily along the banisters, brushing the old white walls, the dusty picture frames. Then you heard a window slam upstairs.

The sky was darkening — heavy and thick. A storm was coming. You could feel it in the air, warm and wet and a little electric. You climbed the stairs barefoot, slowly. And at the top step — you saw him.

Johnny. Sitting in the south wing’s large window. Back against the frame, legs drawn up, eyes distant and fixed on the clouds. He didn’t move when you entered.

You stood there for a moment, just watching him.

His shirt was rumpled, collar loose. A strand of hair fell over his forehead, slightly damp. He looked far away — but not in a bad way. Just… far.

“Are you hiding from something?” you asked, softly, like not to break the spell.

He didn’t move at first. Then came a slow smile, still staring out the window.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting.”

You stepped into the room. Crossed the floor and sat down on the old wood, back against the opposite wall.

The silence between you filled with breath. A raindrop tapped against the window. Then another.

“We’re really alone?” you asked.

He finally turned his eyes toward you. Clear. Tired. Or maybe just honest.

“Harris took them to town. We’ve got…” He looked at an imaginary watch.

“An hour. Maybe two.”

You smiled faintly.

“And what do we do with a stolen hour?”

He climbed down from the window ledge, eyes never leaving yours. He crossed the room slowly, lowering himself to his knees in front of you. So close, you could smell him — sun lotion, salt, and something warm and only-him.

He placed one hand on the floor between you.

“We say the things we don’t say when they’re around.”

You tilted your head.

“Like what?”

He took a slow breath, and when he spoke, his voice was low.

“Like… when you’re not here, the house feels hollow. And when you laugh, I catch myself holding my breath.”

You said nothing at first. Your heart was too loud in your chest.

He kept going, barely above a whisper now.

“You’re the only thing that calms me. And I’m not used to that. I’m used to pretending. To games. To smiling when I’ve got nothing to say. But with you, I just want to be still.”

You reached for his hand, gently. He turned it over, laced his fingers with yours. Another raindrop hit the window — louder. Then more.

The sky cracked open above you.

Inside, everything closed in. Shrank down to him. To you. To this moment. This room. These hands.

You looked at him.

“You want to know what I haven’t said either?”

He lifted his eyes, searching your face carefully, as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Tell me.”

You took a breath.

“You make me want to stay. And I’m not used to that either. Usually I want to run. But with you… I count seconds.”

His eyes blurred for a second — like your words had landed somewhere he wasn’t ready for.

And then — he leaned forward.

Not fast. Not like in movies. Just slowly. Naturally.

His forehead touched yours. He closed his eyes.

And whispered:

“Can I kiss you?”

You smiled, eyelids low.

“You already are.”

And then he kissed you.

Long. Deep. Slow.

Not rushed. Not burning with heat. But warm — real — the kind of kiss that makes time slow down. The kind you wait for across several summers and never dare to ask for.

Lightning flashed outside, briefly lighting up both your faces.

And in that empty room, nothing else existed.

Just two hearts that had stopped running.

The kiss fades slowly, but your foreheads stay pressed together. Neither of you moves.

Outside, the storm rumbles louder. Rain slides against the windows. But inside, time has slowed down.

“We should move away from the window,” you whisper gently — though you don’t really want to.

Johnny nods. But his fingers don’t let go of yours.

He helps you up, his hands treating you like something precious. You notice he’s looking at you differently now. Like the kiss shifted something. Some invisible wall. Some last hesitation.

The room is nearly empty. Just an old rug on the floor, and a folded blanket on a forgotten armchair.

Johnny walks over to the rug, lays down the blanket, then turns back to you.

He says nothing. He just reaches out his hand.

You take it, without thinking.

You both sit down, side by side, then he lies back gently, inviting you to join him.

You turn onto your side to face him. Your faces are just inches apart. His breath is calm. Yours too.

You touch his cheek. His eyes flutter shut.

“Aren’t you scared the others will find out?” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, places his hand on yours.

“I don’t care what Harris thinks. Or the rest of them. You… you make me feel alive.”

You frown slightly.

“You mean… you didn’t feel alive before?”

He lets out a soft laugh.

“Not dead. Just… stuck in something that didn’t really feel like me.”

You move a little closer. Your forehead touches his again. Your leg brushes his. Your bodies find each other — slowly, shyly.

His hand slides along your arm, down to your waist.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

So you move closer. Your nose against his neck. Your lips brushing his collarbone.

You feel his breath catch. You hear him swallow.

“Can I keep you just for me?” you whisper.

He gently lifts your chin. His eyes are deep. Serious.

“Say the word — and I’m yours.”

You smile.

Then you kiss him again. Harder this time. Deeper.

Like everything you’ve been missing since the start of summer is finally here.

His hands slide up your back, slowly tracing your spine. Yours slip under his shirt. His skin is warm. Smooth.

And in that room, while thunder shakes the windows, you find each other.

No rush. No fear. Just two bodies coming together. Two hearts recognizing home.

And the storm, a silent witness.

[rebelfell]

Welcome to your appointment, @mugloversonly Eddie’s so happy to fit in you you in his schedule.

18+, MDNI┃1.4k

cw: drug use (weed), hand job, a little bit of begging 😈

Clouds had emerged as a theme of the evening.

It started with the rainstorm that had rolled in seemingly out of nowhere, dark and heavy clouds in the sky blotting out the sun and effectively nullifying your plans to go camping with the rest of the group. It hadn’t been all that disappointing, truth be told. The only reason you considered going was to see how poorly your not-remotely-outdoorsy boyfriend fared in the wilderness.

No matter, though. You and Eddie were good at making the most out of any night together.

You settled for ‘camping’ in his living room—building yourselves a blanket fort to hunker down in while this freak rainstorm raged outside, the sound of fat raindrops relentlessly hitting the roof drowning out the movie Eddie had put on, the flickering static TV screen acting as your bonfire.

Hazy clouds of smoke filled up the tight, cozy space as you and Eddie passed a joint back and forth, ostensibly to test out the new strain he’d gotten special from Rick for the trip. It certainly got the job done—making you feel all giggly and floaty, the muscles in your cheeks burning from smiling so much. Your body turned loose and slack, almost gooey you felt so relaxed. 

And it made Eddie look especially delectable.

As if that was hard.

Really, you’d have taken any excuse to lay with him like this, his lanky limbs and yours entangled, his head nestled in the crook of your neck so he could plant and dot kisses along the curve of your collarbone and run his fingertips up and down your spine leaving tingles in their wake.

You nuzzled the top of his head, blowing gently on his bangs to fluff them up and then tittering softly when they tickled the inside of your nose. He snickered along with you, belly shaking.

“Hungry,” he groaned, all rough and raspy with smoke, “shoulda foraged for berries or some shit.”

You unwound yourself from around him and crawled out of the fort, clouds of weed smoke billowing out with you as you scampered into the kitchen. Pickings were slim considering you were meant to be gone all weekend, but you struck gold in one of the junk drawers.

“Ooh!” you exclaimed, prompting Eddie to poke his head out the top of the fort like a meerkat.

“That’s not food,” he snorted at the translucent pink bottle you held in your hand.

“It’s better, it’s bubbles!”

Your face split in a grin as you twisted off the cap and blew into the end of the plastic wand. A flurry of iridescent spheres mingled with the dissipating clouds of smoke that lingered in the air, swirling over and under one another when they got caught in the draft from the slightly cracked window at the far end of the room. Eddie’s mouth fell open and he craned his head back, trying to follow their paths until all of them had popped.

“Hey, bring ‘em over here,” he said, ducking back into the fort and then scrambling out of it.

Another one of the joints he had pre-rolled sat between his lips and he flicked his zippo clumsily in an attempt to light it. Realizing what he was doing, you held the wand up for him.

He took a drag and exhaled the hit, sending a slew of bubbles filled with opaque clouds bobbing through the air. One of them hovered in front of your face and you reached out a finger to pop it, releasing the little puff of smoke inside that you sucked down eagerly while Eddie watched.

He beamed as he placed the joint between your lips, taking the bottle for himself. You took turns trading off the joint and wand, seeing which of you could blow the biggest bubble so the other could pop it, your hunger quickly being replaced by mutual delight in your new game. 

At least until in one over-eager attempt, Eddie fumbled the bottle and it spilled down your front.

Clouds of steam now fogged up the bathroom mirror as you ran the hot water, not realizing that Eddie had followed you in until he slid his hands around your waist from behind. He helped you to peel off your top that was suctioned to your skin where the bubble solution had soaked through, and he rubbed his ringed hands across your bare chest, reveling in the sliding sensation.

You stood under the water for a while just feeling one another. Your hands running up and down his chest, his smoothing over your hips and arms.

Everything just felt so good like this—the hot water at his back rushing down the planes of his shoulders, your warm and slippery body pressing up against his, the cloudy feeling filling up his head like the steam filling up the room.

His cock hardened without him even realizing, not feeling it until you two squeezed together. It dug hard into your hip and he smiled bashfully, eyes rounding when yours twinkled with mischief.

You wrapped your hand around his length and his whole body jerked forward. He let out a ragged breath, slapping one of his hands up on the tiled wall in a meager attempt to steady himself.

Shoulders shaking with a shudder, he groaned at the idle flick of your wrist, your palm full of body wash slowly—too slowly—sudsing up his cock.

It lit his brain on fire, the feel of your hand moving around him, soap frothing with every sinful slide.

“Sw-sweetheart, can…fuck…can you go a little bit f-faster?” he whimpered.

Pure evil danced behind your eyes as your motions slowed even more, dragging a pained whine from his throat. Your grip on him tightened, closing around his head and swiping the soft pad of your thumb over his slit, his knees shaking under him and threatening to give way.

“I don’t know, Eddie,” you said, dragging out each word to match your pace. “M’ kinda worn out.”

It wasn’t a full lie—the weed really did a number on you. But you and him both knew if you wanted to power through, you could. And you might have if only he wasn’t so much fun to torture.

“P-please, I’ll do anything,” he gasped, letting his head fall back and giving you a pristine view of his chest flushed red from a mix of the hot water and the blood rushing under his skin. “I’ll do-I’ll do all the work—just let me have your hand, yeah?”

Honestly, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen him this needy. Maybe it was something in the strain.

When he tilts his head back down, he’s staring at you with round, wet eyes that pierce directly into your soul. He begs you silently, his plush bottom lip trembling as droplets of water drip off it.

At long fucking last, you nod.

He wrapped his hand on top of yours to squeeze his own dick within your grasp. Your hand stilled as he held it in place, literally fucking your fist as he carefully drew his hips back to thrust.

The pace he sets is blistering, his face screwed up in what would seem like agony if it wasn’t for all the distinctly pleasurable sounds pouring out of him. Deep grunts and growls mixed in with the wet schlick of soap on his cock that only allows him to thrust that much harder and faster.

You let your hand hang there, mesmerized by the sight of him letting his basest instincts take over, almost animalistic in how he chases his end. 

And when he comes, it’s practically explosive.

“Ohhsshhh…fuck, that was…shit, that was good…goddamn…”

Eddie barked out a laugh of relief, throwing his head back again so the water hit his face and ran down his chin and neck to the top of his chest. He loosened his hold on your hand, but doesn’t drop it until after he’s brought it to his lips to kiss all the way down the inside of your arm.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathed, chest still heaving, “thank you, thank you, thank you…”

You slid your fingertips into his sopping wet curls, scratching them lightly over the top of his head.

“Ed, I didn’t do anything,” you chuckled.

“You did everything,” he insisted, slowly yet surely catching his breath. “I wa…I wanna get you back, but I think the hot water’s about to run out.”

He gives you a patented, adorably forlorn look as he glances over his shoulder, the stream hitting his back steadily turning lukewarm.

“You can owe me one,” you giggled, making him laugh back with a shake of his damp hair.

“For that?” he smirked, “I owe you like twenty.”

Thank you so much for visiting the spa, we hope your services were satisfactory 🌿

[multific]

The Storm Before the Calm

Massimo Torricelli x Reader

Summary: A misunderstanding leads to days of painful silence between you and Massimo. Frustrated, you leave the estate for space, only to get caught in a brutal storm.

The silence between you and Massimo was deafening.

It had been days since your last real conversation, a simple misunderstanding spiralling into something neither of you had the patience or pride to fix.

You missed him, his touch, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But his cold indifference cut deep, and you refused to be the first to break.

Frustrated, you left the estate, needing space to clear your head.

The Sicilian air was thick with humidity, the sky an ominous shade of grey.

You barely noticed the shift, too lost in your thoughts, until the first raindrop landed on your skin.

Then another. And another.

Within moments, the sky unleashed its fury.

The rain fell in heavy sheets, the wind howling as you struggled to find shelter.

You were too far from home now, drenched and shivering, your stubbornness having led you into the heart of the storm.

Then, through the chaos, you heard it.

The roar of an engine.

Headlights sliced through the rain, and before you could even process it, the car jerked to a stop beside you.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Massimo.

His expression was unreadable as he stepped out, the rain instantly soaking his perfect suit.

His jaw was tight, his eyes darker than the storm itself.

“Get in the car,” he ordered, voice rough, edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but he was already reaching for you, his large hands gripping your arms as he pulled you under the shelter of his body. “You could’ve gotten hurt,” he murmured, his breath warm against your chilled skin.

His hands ran down your arms as if checking for any signs of harm.

“I didn’t mean to be out this long,” you admitted softly, watching as something in his expression cracked.

His grip tightened for a second before he exhaled sharply. “Dio, I’ve been going insane.” He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the rain—or maybe the tears you hadn’t realized had mixed with it. “You left angry. I thought-” He stopped, and for the first time in days, you saw it.

The worry. The fear. The cold expressionless eyes were now filled with every emotion.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whispered, pressing a cold hand over his racing heart. “I just needed to think.”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged.

“Then next time, think in the house. With me.”

You barely had time to nod before his lips crashed onto yours.

He tasted like rain and something more profound, like a man holding back far too much for far too long. And when he finally pulled you into the car, wrapping you in his jacket, you knew the storm between you had finally passed.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[archivegyu]

masterlist

our umbrellas should always match

It was the last day of school before summer break, and the kindergarten classroom of Mrs. Park was buzzing with excitement. Twenty-four small children sat in a circle, fidgeting as they took turns sharing their vacation plans.

"I'm going to the beach with my grandparents!" announced Seungkwan proudly, puffing out his chest.

"Well, I'm going to Lotte World THREE times," countered Jeonghan with a smirk, holding up three tiny fingers for emphasis.

In the corner of the circle sat a little girl with bright eyes and a shy smile. She hadn't said much during sharing time, content to listen to her classmates' grand summer plans. Next to her sat Kim Mingyu, her best friend since before they could remember. Their parents had been college roommates, and the two children had grown up having playdates every weekend. Mingyu, tall for his age with a crooked smile, leaned over to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle.

"My mom says we're going camping with your family this summer," he whispered, grinning with excitement. "Dad bought a new tent just for us!"

"Really?" she whispered back, eyes brightening. "That's way better than Lotte World!"

Mrs. Park clapped her hands. "Children, remember to take home ALL your belongings today. The weather forecast says there might be rain this afternoon, so make sure you have your umbrellas!"

At the mention of rain, the little girl's face fell. She had forgotten her umbrella at home that morning, despite her mother's reminder. The sky outside had been so bright and sunny when she'd skipped to school; the thought of rain seemed impossible then.

As the final bell rang, the children scattered like confetti, gathering their backpacks adorned with cartoon characters and colorful lunchboxes.

"Don't push!" called out Joshua, the class helper, as Soonyoung and Chan raced toward the cubbies.

The little girl packed her things slowly, watching as one by one, her friends were picked up by their parents. Seokmin was showing off his dance moves to Hansol in the corner while Wonwoo sat quietly reading a picture book, waiting for his mother.

Suddenly, a deep rumble of thunder shook the classroom windows. The remaining children gasped collectively.

"I told you all to be prepared," Mrs. Park sighed, looking out at the rapidly darkening sky.

The little girl felt a knot forming in her stomach. Her mother would be arriving any minute, but they would have to walk three blocks in what was quickly becoming a downpour. She pressed her nose against the window, watching raindrops race down the glass.

"Mingyu! Your father is here!" Mrs. Park called out.

Mingyu jumped up from where he had been building a tower with Jun and Jihoon. He grabbed his backpack but then paused, looking back at the little girl by the window. They had arrived together that morning, their parents taking turns with drop-offs, but her mother was picking her up today. Their eyes met, and something seemed to click in his mind.

"Wait here," he told her with surprising authority for a six-year-old.

She watched curiously as Mingyu ran to his father, engaged in an animated conversation, complete with dramatic hand gestures and pointing in her direction. His father smiled knowingly and nodded, ruffling Mingyu's hair. After all, he'd known the little girl since she was born and was practically a second father to her.

A few minutes later, as parents continued arriving with umbrellas in tow, Mingyu burst back into the classroom, slightly breathless and holding something behind his back.

"Look what I found in my dad's car!" he exclaimed, revealing two small matching umbrellas with cartoonish dinosaur patterns. "Remember these? From our trip to the museum?"

The little girl's eyes widened in recognition. Two years ago, when they were just four, they had gotten caught in a surprise shower during a family outing to the museum. The gift shop had been selling children's umbrellas, and their parents had bought the matching pair on impulse.

"You still have yours?" she asked in amazement.

"Dad says I never let him throw anything away," Mingyu grinned. "Mom tried to donate it last week, but I told her we needed them for emergencies. Like today!" He puffed out his chest proudly. "Here's yours."

He handed her the slightly smaller of the two umbrellas, the one with the purple triceratops pattern rather than his blue T-Rex.

"Woah! Cool umbrellas!" exclaimed Seokmin, who had wandered over with Minghao, both gawking at the dinosaur designs.

"Are you two dating?" teased Jeonghan with a mischievous smile.

"Eww!" both Mingyu and the little girl exclaimed in unison, though neither made any move to return the umbrellas.

"We're best friends, not boyfriend-girlfriend" the little girl explained with the exasperated tone of someone who had clarified this many times before.

"Our moms were roommates in college," Mingyu added importantly. "We've known each other since we were babies."

Seungcheol, the tallest boy in class who considered himself very grown-up, rolled his eyes. "You can't date in kindergarten anyway. You have to be at least in second grade."

"Says who?" challenged Seungkwan, always ready for a debate.

"Says everyone," Seungcheol replied confidently.

"My cousin is in kindergarten and she has a boyfriend," Minghao chimed in, resulting in a chorus of "oohs" from the remaining children.

Just then, the little girl's mother appeared at the classroom door, slightly damp from the dash from the parking lot.

"Ready to go, sweetie? Oh, it's pouring out there!"

"It's okay, Mom! Mingyu brought me my dinosaur umbrella!" the little girl announced proudly, holding up her purple triceratops shield against the rain.

Her mother looked confused for a moment before recognition dawned on her face. "The matching ones from the museum? You still have those?"

Mingyu's father appeared behind her. "Found them in our garage last week. Mingyu refused to let me put them in the donation pile. Said they were 'special emergency umbrellas.'" He winked at the little girl. "Turns out he was right."

"As usual," her mother laughed, sharing the knowing look of parents whose children had been inseparable since birth.

"We're still on for dinner Friday?" Mingyu's father asked.

"Of course! I've got that new recipe I was telling you about," the little girl's mother replied.

As they prepared to leave, Mingyu and the little girl stood side by side, their dinosaur umbrellas ready for action.

"Wait!" cried Hansol, grabbing Mrs. Park's polaroid camera from her desk. "Pose for a picture!"

The pair stood back-to-back, umbrellas raised dramatically overhead like tiny dinosaur shields, their smiles wide and carefree.

"Say 'best friends forever'!" instructed Hansol.

"That's too long!" complained Mingyu.

"Say 'rawr' then!" Hansol suggested.

Just as they were about to roar, Soonyoung burst into the frame, his hands curled into claws. "Wait for me! I want to be in the dinosaur picture too!"

"But you don't have a dinosaur umbrella," Mingyu pointed out.

Soonyoung puffed out his chest. "I don't need one! I'm a tiger! And tigers are scarier than dinosaurs!" He proceeded to demonstrate by scrunching his face into what he clearly thought was a ferocious tiger snarl, but instead made him look like he had just eaten something terribly sour.

"Tigers don't go 'rawr,' they go 'ROAR!'" Soonyoung insisted, making an exaggerated roaring sound that was more of a squeaky yell.

"Dinosaurs were bigger than tigers," argued Mingyu, protectively clutching his blue T-Rex umbrella.

"But tigers are faster!" Soonyoung countered, hopping from one foot to the other to demonstrate his speed.

"Dinosaurs lived millions of years ago," Wonwoo chimed in from his reading corner, not looking up from his dinosaur picture book. "Tigers didn't exist then."

"Can I just take the picture?" Hansol sighed, the camera getting heavy in his small hands.

"Fine," huffed Soonyoung, squeezing between Mingyu and the little girl. "But I'm doing a tiger roar, not a dinosaur rawr."

"RAWR!" shouted Mingyu and the little girl.

"ROOOAAAR!" bellowed Soonyoung at the exact same time, his voice cracking mid-roar.

The resulting photo showed two smiling children with dinosaur umbrellas and one very blurry Soonyoung with his mouth wide open, causing the remaining classmates to dissolve into fits of giggles.

Outside, the rain poured down relentlessly, but beneath their matching dinosaur umbrellas, Mingyu and the little girl didn't mind one bit. They splashed through puddles in the parking lot, comparing who could make the biggest splash.

"I'm winning!" the little girl declared, jumping into a particularly deep puddle that sent water flying onto Mingyu's shoes.

"No fair! Your legs are longer!" Mingyu protested, though they both knew this wasn't true; he towered over her by several inches.

"They are not!" she retorted, standing on her tiptoes to try to match his height.

Their parents watched, shaking their heads with fond exasperation.

"We should get going if we want to beat traffic," the little girl's mother finally said.

They reached the point where they had to part ways, their parents waiting patiently despite getting slightly wet themselves.

"See you tomorrow for our playdate?" Mingyu asked, suddenly remembering their weekend plans.

"Of course! Mom bought ice cream!"

"The chocolate kind?"

"Is there any other kind?" she replied with a grin.

As they turned to go their separate ways, Mingyu called out, "Don't forget your umbrella next time!"

The little girl smiled, clutching her purple triceratops umbrella tightly. "I won't need to," she called back. "I have this one now! And our umbrellas should always match!"

"Always!" Mingyu agreed with a firm nod.

Just as they were about to part ways, Mingyu's mother appeared, hurrying toward them with her own umbrella.

"Why don't you all come over for a bit?" she suggested, looking at the little girl's mother. "It's been such a busy month with work. Let's have some coffee and catch up while the kids dry off."

"That sounds wonderful," the little girl's mother agreed readily. "We're just across the street anyway, and I made cookies this morning that I was planning to bring over this weekend."

"Perfect! I just brewed a fresh pot before coming to pick Gyu up," Mingyu's mother said.

And so instead of saying goodbye, the two families made their way to Mingyu's house, the adults chatting animatedly about their week while the children marched ahead, proudly holding their matching dinosaur umbrellas.

Once inside, the children were instructed to change into dry clothes. Mingyu in his room and the little girl in the bathroom with a set of spare clothes she kept at his house for their frequent playdates.

"Dinosaur Planet is on!" Mingyu called excitedly, emerging from his room in dinosaur-print pajamas that, not coincidentally, matched the pattern on their umbrellas.

The little girl appeared in her own set of pajamas kept at Mingyu's house; hers with purple triceratops, naturally.

While their parents gathered in the kitchen with steaming mugs of coffee and plates of cookies, the two children settled on the couch in the living room, a fluffy blanket spread across their laps, eyes glued to the television where animated dinosaurs roamed across the screen.

"I told you dinosaurs are cooler than tigers," Mingyu whispered, thinking back to Soonyoung's antics at school.

"Way cooler," the little girl agreed, reaching for the bowl of popcorn Mingyu's mother had thoughtfully provided.

In the kitchen, the parents watched the pair with affection, their conversation eventually turning to the children's future, as it often did.

"They're practically joined at the hip," Mingyu's father observed. "Always have been."

"Remember when we used to joke about arranging their marriage?" the little girl's father laughed, keeping his voice low enough that the children couldn't hear.

"Who says I'm joking?" Mingyu's mother replied with a wink. "My son has excellent taste in best friends. I wouldn't mind if that friendship turned into something more in about twenty years."

"Oh stop," the little girl's mother chuckled, though she couldn't help but glance fondly at the children. "But they do complement each other perfectly. Mingyu with his impulsiveness and her with her thoughtfulness."

"Like their umbrellas," Mingyu's father mused. "Different but matching."

"To matching umbrellas and matching souls," the little girl's father declared, raising his coffee mug in a toast.

As the rain continued to pour outside, the two families enjoyed their impromptu gathering, the children eventually dozing off on the couch, their heads leaning against each other, while their matching dinosaur umbrellas dried side by side in the entryway.

A sight that would repeat countless times throughout their lives.

[inkinflux]

Can't Handle When the Fight Runs Out

Jayce Talis x f!Reader | 2.1k | SFW (tw: mentions of self harm)

Having survived the outcome of the hexcore's chaos, Jayce now deals with the consequences his trauma has on your relationship. A/N: angst, i'm sorry!! I was really inspired by this beautiful song. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

“Jayce?”

His name spoken, a warm hand outstretched in the dark.

The scar on his back was blue in the speckled moonlight that blanketed the kitchen, his shoulders heaving silently. The shadow of raindrops fell down the perfect canvas, disturbed only by the dents and divots of musculature.

Creaky floorboards announced your presence with a soft groan, and Jayce’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide.

You approached cautiously, placing a gentle hand on his back. Jayce flinched, leaning forward, placing his hands against the stone counter top to ground himself.

“Did the thunder wake you?” You asked, delving further forward, careful touches sinking into his warm flesh until he gave way, leaning back into you as you pressed your cheek to him.

You gazed through the tall window into the night. Heavy rainfall and a sad, quiet record had lulled you into an easy sleep. You hadn’t noticed Jayce had left your bed until you rolled over, grasping for his body and coming up empty.

Lightning flashed across the blackened sky, illuminating the towers of Piltover. No longer did the tallest building emit the comforting blue glow of the hexgates. All that was left was an unsettling darkness, an absence that would be fruitless to fill.

Jayce didn’t answer. You were patient, your sleep-laden body heavy against his as you struggled to keep upright.

His silence gnawed at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, fingers stretching up, settling over his heart.

“D’you want me to stay or go?”

Jayce placed his hand over yours. “Stay.”

That was something. Often, he’d tell you to go back to bed, made grumpy in all his missed sleep.

Most days he could barely stand to look at you anymore. Rejection was poised on his tongue at every suggestion. A trip to get away from Piltover? Picking up a new hobby to serve as a distraction? Alchemical solutions to help him sleep? No. No. No.

It was enough to make you feel like a burden.

As if hearing you dwell on such thoughts, Jayce said, “I’m sorry.”

“You were angry,” you conceded. “You’re forgiven.”

He wrapped a hold around your hands, pulling your arms around himself tighter.

“Does it get too hard?” He asked, “Being so good to me every day?” His head hung heavy, his sorrow apparent. “I know I haven’t been… easy to love, lately.”

Your eyes stung. You pressed your forehead to his back, letting the tears fall to the floor with two dull thuds.

It would’ve been to hard to dispute his words, for they were true. And besides, you didn’t want this to devolve into another fight.

Jayce sighed, breathing into your silence. He turned, rotating in your arms, to face you. You peered up at him, the motion causing another tear to fall onto your cheek.

“I know it’s been hard for you too,” your voice was small. “More than I can imagine.”

Jayce shook his head, eyebrows drawn down. He looked like a kicked puppy, even while he towered over you, strong hands reaching up to hold your face tenderly.

“I stood at the end of the world,” he said, fear flashing in his eyes at the recollection, “I feel the same way I did then, whenever the distance between us grows. And I know it’s all my fault.”

“It’s okay-“

“No, it’s not.”

You took a step back, out of his grip. You were so tired of his bad moods. Of his righteous victimhood. You were a mix of resentful and guilty and adoring. How could you be anything other than grateful he had come home, all those months ago?

“It’s okay,” you reiterated, “I never assumed I’d be getting the same Jayce back.”

He nodded, clasping his shaking hands in front of himself, his eyes following, not wanting you to see how hurt he felt.

“Yeah,” he huffed ironic amusement, “Instead, you got a ghost.”

His thumb traced the blue rune embedded in his wrist. The flesh now bore two deep purple lines where he had attempted to carve it out. You winced as your vision flashed red at the memory.

“What is it you want to do?” You had refrained from asking questions for long enough. You knew you had been avoiding the inevitable heartbreak.

Being brave wasn’t your forte. If you had been in Jayce’s shoes, you knew you wouldn’t have been able to do it, soft-hearted as you were.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Jayce decided, the finality in his voice making your stomach twist. “Seems I can’t handle when the fight runs out. All I do is take it out on you.”

Why couldn’t he be content with the peace he had earned? Why couldn’t he block out the violent memories with the love and light you provided?

He had spent countless sleepless nights tracing your sleeping form, wanting to wake you and share his burden. But the thought of tainting you with it pained him more than the nightmares that left claw marks on his mind.

He’d started to resent you for knowing him so well. For leaving when he needed space, and staying when he needed your touch. For voicing how he felt without him needing to open his mouth. Lashing out whenever you tried to offer company, keeping you backed against the walls in your own home to avoid upsetting him.

You were the last thought that floated to his consciousness in that final, bright flash. Instead of the comfort of death, he had awoken to a new day, with nothing left to say.

Who was he without Viktor, without his partner? What was his purpose without hextech, without some sort of greater cause? There was nothing left for him in this world, and yet it had selfishly taken him back, bringing him back to you.

You, who had waited patiently for him to speak, after days of shell-shocked speechlessness. You, who had bathed him and shaved him and slipped fluffy socks on his feet to keep him warm. You, who rushed to close the windows and balcony doors whenever construction down the street began, shielding him from any startling noises.

You, who had been his entire world, until he realized you were just a girl.

As much as he wished for the adverse to be true, a person couldn’t substitute a purpose.

“Can you be angry with me, for once?” His tone was begging, his eyes glassy as he looked up to meet your gaze.

Looking at you, he could glean no fury, no fire. Only weariness etched into your beautiful face, a blank facade that had once been so prone to passion. Despite his attempts to keep you sheltered from his mangled psyche, he had broken you.

Your profile was cast in a blue flicker from the lightning outside, and it pulled your attention away. You stared into the rain for a while before taking hold of Jayce’s hand, tugging him silently to the door.

You were bringing him outside. Kicking him out. His heart started stuttering at the prospect. He thought he was ready for it, he had imagined it would have to come sometime soon.

As you stepped past the apartment threshold, all entered an almost-perfect darkness. You let Jayce’s hand fall, not looking at him before stepping into the rain.

Jayce choked on a response to your unexpected action. Words failed him as he watched you quickly become drenched, before laying down on the road. Your form blended into the storm, your baggy pyjama pants and sleeping top forming tight around your body from the weight of the water.

Jayce entered the curtain waterfall, the raindrops fat and cool amongst the humid summer air. His feet slapped against the pavement until he reached you. He hesitated no longer to lay down beside you, his eyes squinted against the water as it fell against his face.

He stretched his arms out, splayed fingers bumping against yours. He turned his head to look at you, and you were already gazing at your close hands, undeniably feeling the same pull he was.

Jayce linked his fingers through yours, resting the back of his hand against the wet ground.

“I know the emptiness inside you can’t be remedied by anything I do,” you told him after a while of drowning in your swirling emotions.

The rain had woken both of you up, your emotions more coherent. You were looking up into the cloudy sky, the rain letting up finally, slowly transforming from raindrops to a light mist.

“Then why do you keep trying?” Jayce asked. “Doesn’t it piss you off?”

“Of course it does,” you said, with a gentleness that soothed his soul, despite his yearning for anger. “But that emptiness isn’t you, Jayce. Your grief isn’t a part of you, it’s just… the construction of a monument to all you’ve lost. It always takes time before it’s done.”

Jayce glanced at the scaffolding against the front of one of the neighbouring buildings on your street. He smiled at your everlasting ability to make random analogies from your surroundings.

“Let me guess. It also puts up a racket that drives the neighbours crazy?”

“Exactly,” you smiled, turning onto your side to look at him.

He sighed, turning to face you too. “You do realize we’re laying in the middle of the street?”

“Mhm,” you hummed your acknowledgement, your face still warm despite the chill that had set in from the rain.

You reached out for him, and he shuffled closer, cradling your hand as you pressed it to his cheek.

“What if the builders are lousy and take long lunch breaks?” He asked, “What if they can’t get the monument done in time?”

You ran your thumb along his cheek, along his scar. “Isn’t that what always happens? It’s to be expected.”

Jayce slid your hand down to his lips, placing a kiss against your fingers. His hip was starting to ache from being pressed against the concrete. Every sensation suddenly sharp and astute, something he wasn’t used to these days as he walked through a haze.

It was nice to finally feel awake.

You pushed against the ground, raising to sit, your knees bent.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

Jayce sat up, his mind no longer clouded by pity and pain.

“And if I want to stay?” He asked, “How do I make it up to you?”

You frowned, thinking about it.

“Talk to me. Let me in on the blueprints for this massive monument being built inside of you.”

Jayce chuckled, catching your hand as it slapped half-heartedly against his chest.

“A burden shared is a burden halved, right? I think in your case the burden if way too big to be easily split, but if I can even take a chip of it, hand me a chisel.”

“Alright,” his voice strained as he stood with effort, “I can tell how tired you are when you start getting attached to metaphors. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Before you could prepare a retort, Jayce was scooping you up, carrying you without effort back into your home. You had begun shivering at some point, no doubt from the cold of the rain, and Jayce held your trembling body close, his body heat a persevering force.

When you returned home, Jayce shed your wet clothes and bundled you in blankets and pulled on fluffy socks, placing a kiss on each ankle as he finished doing so.

Warmth blossomed in your chest from the affection. It had been so long since he had indulged in it.

Now he nuzzled his face into your neck, snoring while you remained wide awake. Laying with his peaceful presence, and stroking calming touches to his hair when he twitched from dreams. You could have stayed like that forever, holding him and the weight of the grief inside of him. But then the rain started back up again, and the periodic rise of his back with each breath lulled you to sleep, his body a weighted blanket.

The morning was grey and the rain continued, leading to a late sleep-in. The smell of breakfast woke you a moment before Jayce entered the room, his face clean-shaven and his eyes the brightest you’d seen since he went away.

“It’s not a chisel,” he said, handing you a fork, “but it’s a start, right?”

You looked between him and the plate. Carefully, you took it from his hands, placing both items on the nightstand before pulling him against you in a desperate embrace, your kisses erratic and drawing pleased sounds from his pretty throat.

“Missed you,” you hummed against his lips.

“Me too,” he replied, before deepening the kiss.

[kendyzzlewp]

please, I’ve been on my knees, change the prophecy

jackson avery x fem!reader

summary: you watched in horror as the bus exploded, jackson no where to be found

type: angst - love confession - friends to lovers

The world around you seemed to slow down, each raindrop hitting your skin like a heavy weight as you watched in horror. The bus, engulfed in flames, painted a terrifying picture against the dark, rainy backdrop. Your heart pounded violently, a painful rhythm matching the chaos before you.

"Where's Jackson?" Your voice cracked with fear, desperation creeping into every syllable as you searched the chaos for him. "Torres, where's Jackson?"

Calle rushed past, her face a mask of grim determination as she shouted back, "He's right behind us!"

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you closer to the inferno despite the danger. "Jackson!" The name tore from your throat, a primal scream of terror and love.

But before you could reach him, Owen's strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back with a force that matched the explosion that followed. The world seemed to explode around you, the heat searing your skin, the sound deafening as flames licked at the sky.

As you fell to the ground, the world became a blur of agony. The image of the burning bus, the screams of pain and fear, all merged into a cacophony of despair. And then, as if from a great distance, you heard it.

A gut-wrenching scream, raw with agony and loss. It took you a moment to realize that the sound was coming from you, ripped from your very soul as you watched, helpless, knowing that you were losing the person who mattered most to you.

You looked up at the sky, tears mingling with rain as you pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening. "Please," your voice was a broken whisper, "don't take him. Let it be me. Take me instead."

But the sky remained silent, offering no solace as you were left to face the devastation before you, a world shattered by flames and loss.

Through the raging flames, a silhouette emerged, barely visible amidst the inferno. It was Jackson, his figure illuminated by the flickering fire, holding a little girl close to his chest. Tears welled in your eyes as relief flooded through you, mingling with the haunting specter of what could have been.

With each faltering step, Jackson battled against the relentless blaze, his determination a beacon of hope in the darkness. You watched, heart in your throat, as he drew nearer, the flames licking dangerously close to his weary frame.

As he finally reached you, his breaths ragged and labored, he gently passed the trembling child into her mothers arms. She clung to her desperately, her tiny fingers digging into her skin, seeking solace from the nightmare that surrounded her.

With tear-filled eyes, you looked up at Jackson, his face streaked with ash and exhaustion. "You're an idiot," you whispered, the words a fragile prayer of gratitude.

He nodded weakly, a flicker of a smile ghosting across his soot-stained lips. "I know," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

Fury surged within you, mingling with the overwhelming relief as you looked up at Jackson, his face etched with exhaustion and soot.

"You can't just do that!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if you didn't make it out of there?"

Jackson's brow furrowed in confusion, his gaze searching yours for understanding. "I... I needed to save her," he murmured, his voice strained with emotion.

“And what about me?" Your voice cracked with emotion as tears spilled down your cheeks. "What would have happened to me if you had died in there?"

For a moment, Jackson seemed at a loss for words, his eyes wide with realization. And then, as if a dam had burst within him, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing against your tear-stained cheek.

"I... I didn't think," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't realize..."

"You idiot," you breathed, your voice softening with love and exasperation. "I love you, you moron."

And as you melted into each other's arms, surrounded by the remnants of the devastation, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that could withstand even the fiercest flames.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Stay

A/N: thanks Sarah for the idea 😁

Summary: you and Shanks had a bad fight and even the sky seemed to be sad about the love that once bloomed and now threatened to fall apart

We say goodbye in the pouring rain And I break down as you walk away Stay, stay

Warnings: hurt, maybe angst?, spoiler it will end in a happy ending, not proofread

Characters: Shanks x GnReader

The last few weeks were marked with tension, hurt, an undeniable ache and so many words left unspoken between you two. It had never before been this way but that one day a few weeks ago seemed to have changed everything between you - a fight so unusal for someone like Shanks that led to a heated argument with words thrown at each other that neither of you should have said.

And now you stood there at the docks, looking at each other and then you felt it - a raindrop then another and soon it poured down on you but neither of you made a move. Too absorbed in each other, in all those unspoken words, the tension that had been building.

Was this really how it was going to end?

The rain kept pouring and you felt your soaked clothes stick to your skin and the slight shiver from the cold.

You wanted to say something, wanted him to make a move but nothing came only that unbearable silence between you two.

"I guess that means goodbye" you said softly as the rain put a tear in your eyes.

Still nothing.

You had hoped - foolishly - he would finally do something but he didn't move, didn't say anything, he just looked at you.

With a heavy heart you turned and walked away.

With every step you took the ache in your heart got worse and worse you didn't want to leave you didn't want to throw everything away but the way he stood there doing nothing hurt more than any word or gesture could have.

The rain poured down heavily on you and the world around you felt suffocating until you heard footsteps behind you.

"Don't leave".

You stopped in your tracks but didn't dare turn around to look at him, afraid that if you did, you'd give in to the desire to fall into his arms and let everything go. The pain, the frustration, the ache.

And then you felt his presences behind you, the contrast between the heat radiating from his body and the cold rain pouring down on you.

He hesitated a moment before carefully placing his hand on your shoulder making you tense but still you didn't turn around.

“I didn’t mean it," Shanks murmured, the words barely louder than the rain.

You stayed still, fighting the urge to collapse right there, unsure whether to turn to him or keep walking.

"I'm sorry." His voice broke a little, almost as if he was apologizing to himself as much as he was to you.

The rain was pouring down even heavier as if it was mourning over the end of what had once been so pure and real between you two.

After what felt like an eternity you slowly turned around yet you couldn't hide the small tremble on your lips as you looked at him. The words were there on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t get them out.

You tried to bite back the tears that were welling up but it was pointless - they were blending with the rain that fell relentlessly, as though the sky itself was trying to wash away the pain

Neither of you said a word. But Shanks' eyes told you more than words ever could. He was just as hurt as you were and seeing you like this, tears streaming down your beautiful face was getting to him.

And the worst part - he was the reason for it.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you whispered, barely audible over the roar of the rain, your voice cracking. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as you tried to regain some composure.

Shanks’ eyes softened, but there was a sadness to them, a deep understanding of the weight that was too heavy.

“Then don’t,” he said, voice low but unwavering. He stepped forward, the distance between you closing, but it wasn’t enough. You could still feel the space between your hearts it felt like the bridge you built together was burning down.

“I’m so damn sorry,” he continued, his voice cracking just slightly. The rain seemed to mix with the pain in his voice. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The words were enough to break something inside you. You could no longer hold back the flood of emotion. Tears mixed with the rain again - falling freely. You weren’t just crying for the fight, for the pain, for the silence. You were crying because this felt like goodbye.

The hurt and ache on your face was too much to bear for Shanks. Hr had promised you once to always keep you away from harm and pain but now, now it was he himself who caused what he promised to keep you safe from. He reached his hand out wanting to comfort you to pull you in but he didn’t. He just looked at you like he wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable.

And then just like that, he walked away. His footsteps, steady but slow, echoed through the quiet as he turned, leaving you standing there, drenched in both rain and sorrow.

With each step he took, something inside you broke further. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. You broke down completely, collapsing to your knees in the pouring rain, the weight of it all too much to bear.

“Stay please,” you whispered through sobs, voice barely a breath.

The rain fell harder, drenching your skin and your spirit as you knelt there, your heart breaking with every passing second. The cold seeped through your clothes, but it was nothing compared to the icy emptiness in your chest.

The sound of Shanks' footsteps, once steady, grew fainter and fainter. And with each step he took, it felt like a piece of you was being left behind.

But then, just as you thought he was truly gone, the footsteps faltered. You heard a soft curse, muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

And before you realized what was going on he knelt beside you. His hand reaching out and this time he cupped your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the warmth of his palm.

His eyes had softened and you could see the determination in his eyes.

"I’m not good with this," Shanks admitted, his voice quiet, his usual lighthearted nature gone, replaced by something more serious. "But I’m not leaving you behind, not like this."

You didn’t know what to say. The words tangled in your throat, and for a long moment, you both just stared at each other, the rain now a soft backdrop to the intensity of the emotions flooding between you.

"I don’t know how to fix this," he murmured, his thumb brushing across your cheek, wiping away a tear that wasn’t entirely from the rain. "But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in weeks, you felt the weight of his presence settle in a way that made the ache in your chest feel lighter, even if only for a moment. He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, and he wasn’t pretending everything could go back to how it was just like that.

But this moment, right here, right now, showed you that this love wasn't lost. He still cared for you just like you cared for him.

"I don't need you to fix anything, all i need is for you to....stay and don't leave me" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. The world outside, the pain, the mistakes—it all faded into the background as you knelt there together in the rain, letting silence speak louder than words ever could.

"I won’t," he said softly, his breath warm against your face.

A small, tentative smile spread across your lips as the rain began to ease, the heavy downpour shifting into a gentle drizzle, then finally fading into nothing. It was as if the sky itself was reflecting the shift in your heart a quiet calm after the storm.

Shanks stayed close, his presence a steady comfort. His hand remained on your cheek, his thumb moving in small, soothing circles as if grounding you, reminding you that he was there, truly there, in a way you had desperately needed.

"You know," Shanks said quietly, his voice low and a little more vulnerable than usual, "I've never meant to hurt you like this, I never wanted to make you feel like I didn't care anymore. It's just I'm not good at this whole thing - finding the right words."

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him. "You? Not good with words? Shanks you sometimes talk non-stop you even stopped a war with just words and now you want to tell me you're not good with this" you said a little teasingly.

"I'm not good at it when it comes to you." He admitted with a warm genuine smile. "Because everytime I look at you I can't believe you put up with me and I don't want to mess this - what we have - up. But i guess that's exactly what I did"

You could feel the weight of his words, and despite the lingering ache in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile at him. For the first time in weeks, the walls between you two were coming down, and the distance that had seemed impossible to cross felt like it was finally shrinking.

"Well you didn't mess it up completely. You stayed and that's all that matters now" you said.

His smile spread across his face - that damned charming smile -, it was enough to make your heart skip. His hand moved from your cheek to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch tender in a way that gave you this familiar feeling of comfort.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, just sitting there, letting the last remnants of the rain pass by. The world felt still, but in the best way, like you were both letting the storm wash away the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

He was studying you in that way he always did, like he was trying to memorize everything about you in that moment. His expression softened, and without thinking, you reached out, fingers brushing against the fabric of his damp shirt, just to make sure he was real.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned into your touch, his hand moving from your cheek to rest over yours. The warmth of his palm against your fingers sent a familiar shiver through you.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, teasing but laced with something deeper. "You know, you’re gonna catch a cold sitting here all soaked like that."

You rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. "So are you."

"Yeah, but I look damn good doing it," he quipped.

You let out a soft laugh, and the sound was like a balm to his soul. It was so easy with him, even after everything, even after weeks of silence and hurt. And maybe that was why you had fought so hard, why it had hurt so much to think of losing him.

"Come on now let's get up before we both get sick and Hongo will lecture us for sitting on the wet and cold floor" he said as he pulled you up.

The moment you stood there so close his hand remained on yours your bodies mere inches apart, you both got lost in each other's eyes.

The love that had felt so distant, so unreachable in the past weeks, was suddenly there again stronger, deeper, as if the storm had only forged it into something more unbreakable.

His fingers tightened around yours, just slightly. “I missed you,” he murmured, so softly you almost didn’t hear it.

Your breath hitched. The vulnerability in his voice, in his eyes, was enough to break through every last ounce of doubt and hesitation you had been holding onto.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hand let go of yours and moved back to your face to gently trace along your jawline before resting against your cheek.

“I don’t want to fight like that again,” you whispered, your fingers gripping his soaked shirt as if afraid he might slip away.

His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles, though his eyes remained soft, serious. “Then let’s not,” he said simply.

Without thinking, without hesitation, you closed the remaining distance.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise sealed between you.

And in that moment it became clear that this love had never truly left.

[phant0mth1ef]

forever young, i want to be forever young.

he swore that he would never allow you to pass him in terms of brute strength, swore that you’d never be on the same levels as him and izuku.

but you knew you could change his mind the same way izuku did, you knew that if you trained hard enough, katsuki’s mind would erase the image of you as a little girl, the image of you that always needed his protection and his security.

when you grew up, you drifted apart due to the fact that you’d choose izuku every time due to the fact that you felt bad for the green haired boy, the fact that nobody wanted to be his friend while katsuki had so many accomplices.

he begun to treat you the same way as izuku, except the only thing different about your treatment was that he never stopped, not even when you both attended ua highschool. he’d continously call you weak, would always say how you were too far behind. how you’d only ever become a sidekick at best.

of course now his mind was changed as he watched you navigate the terrain of coffin in the sky, he also found out that you created the basic terrain and mountains inside so that you’d successfully be able to manuever against shigaraki.

his mind was changed as the rain poured down, your hair wet and sticking to your skin, the same skin that begun to glisten with beads of sweat mixed with the water falling down onto you.

of course, he couldn’t do much from where he was tossed away on the ground, his body aching in pain as you turned your head down to see your friend, in pain and near the edge of unconsciousness.

“you idiot.” he murmured out, nearly incoherent as best jeanist turned to where bakugou was looking, seeing you getting moved around as if you were a ragdoll, you couldn’t even comprehend what had happened. it was all so fast.

you looked down at where you felt shigaraki holding you, only to see his arm had gone through your torso, bakugou watching with tears in his eyes that he’d pretend were just raindrops that fell on him.

and when you were tossed aside on top of him, the boy coughing up blood as your bodies connected, you had a smile on your face.

“i’m satisfied. thank you katsuki, for everything.”

your voice was meek and small as he moved his head up slightly to see your eyes slowly shut.

[etherealeowyn]

"Will you be my queen?" - Annatar x Fem Reader

Annatar comes back early, and Y/n's in for a surprise.

THIS CONTAINS SMUT - MINORS DNI

Word Count: 682

My requests are always open, so feel free to message me if you have an idea! I'll write for any character from The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or The Rings of Power!

Raindrops endlessly fell from the sky, as a chill washed over Y/n’s bedroom chamber, making the woman pull her blankets closer to her body. A fire was flickering near the foot of the bed, but the warmth emitted did not compare to Annatar’s body heat.

He had left early to attend to some matters with Celebrimbor regarding forging the rings of power.

Naivety was not an attribute that Y/n possessed. She knew Annatar was not his true name; he was Sauron, the demi-god feared for ages. But this knowledge did not dissuade her love for him.

Even though logically, it should have.

But logic carried very little weight over matters of the heart.

Sitting up, Y/n pushed the covers off her body before swinging her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the feeling of the cold stone beneath her bare feet. She walked over to the divider in the corner of the room designated as a changing space and began to slip on a thick velvet dress.

“There’s no need for you to put that on,” a man’s voice sounded, causing Y/n’s head to snap up from what she was doing.

A small blush crept onto her face as she recognized Annatar’s voice. She could see the silhouette of his frame, through the divider, illuminated by the burning fire.

She watched as his hand pushed the divider to the side, removing the barrier that separated the pair.

Looking up at him with anticipation prominent in her eyes, she felt her heart pound rapidly within her chest, wanting nothing more than for his skin to encounter hers. His fingers delicately pushed the garment from her shoulders, making it fall onto the ground in a heap. Annatar offered his hand to the woman, and she eagerly took it, stepping away and following him to the bed in the middle of the room.

“Sit,” he stated, his voice containing a well-balanced mixture of assertiveness and warmth.

She did as he said without hesitation, knowing everything he did for her was always in her best interest.

Using his calloused hands, Annatar spread open the woman’s legs, causing Y/n to fall back onto her elbows. The way that his long blond hair brushed the inside of her thighs before his mouth reached her clit, made her breath quicken, and she swore that she could feel electricity flowing through every part of her body.

There was no sorcery involved, but when he went down on her, it felt like time slowed down, and every touch, whether big or small, was amplified. He’d occasionally look up at her, eyes clouded, with a smirk playing on his lips as she squirmed in pleasure.

Her hair was sprawled out around her on the bed, slightly messy but perfect, nonetheless. He had hardly seen her like this, usually, in the public eye she was the epitome of put-together, making him feel mildly powerful that he was able to unravel her like this.

“S-Sauron,” she moaned his name as she finished, panting as beads of sweat adorned her forehead.

Y/n wasn’t expecting to let that name fall from her mouth, but she had a hard time calling him by his other names when this one seemed to fit him so well. Plus, her head felt like it was spinning, from the way that his tongue worked. Y/n knew that it was twisted to love someone like him, but at the same time, she felt so deeply connected to him that she couldn’t possibly run from him.

“I was not expecting you to say that, but I’m not surprised you figured it out, love. I always knew you were smart,” he spoke with a cocky smile.

Y/n sat up, struggling to form words, however, she let a smile brighten up her features.

“I could fill you in on everything later, but I just need to know, will you be my queen?” he asked, sloppily trailing kisses up her leg.

“Absolutely,” Y/n responded breathily, placing her finger underneath his chin and pointing it upwards so she could connect her lips to his.

[jungkookstatts]

As Thunder Rolls

[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.

[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters

[Word Count]: 8,296

[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)

People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.

You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.

Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.

“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.

Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.

“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.

“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.

“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.

But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.

“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.

Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.

You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.

“Down there,” you corrected him.

“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.

“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”

You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.

Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.

“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.

The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.

Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.

“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.

His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he softly said.

At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.

You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.

Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.

But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.

He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.

His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.

What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.

You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.

You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.

“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.

“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.

“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.

You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.

In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.

“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.

“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.

“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.

“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.

“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”

He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.

“It’s because I have no money, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.

You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.

“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”

“Your siblings?” he asks.

“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”

He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.

“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.

“No,” you laugh.

Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.

“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”

You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.

“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”

“For?” you peck his lips again.

“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”

You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.

“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”

“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.

___

Law school used to be interesting.

Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.

Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.

These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.

Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.

You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.

A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.

“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.

“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.

With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.

“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.

“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”

“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”

Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.

“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”

“It worked,” you kiss him again.

“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”

“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”

“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.

You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.

“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.

“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.

“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”

“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.

You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.

“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.

“What?” all four of you say at once.

“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”

“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.

“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.

“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.

“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”

Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.

“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”

—

You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.

Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.

He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.

“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.

He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?

“Baby, talk to m—”

“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.

“What?”

“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”

You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.

“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.

“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”

“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.

“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.

“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.

His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.

“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.

___

Dinner is awkward. So awkward.

It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.

Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.

Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.

You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.

Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.

“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”

Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.

“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.

“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”

“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.

“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.

You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.

“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”

The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.

After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.

“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.

“Father,” you try to stop him.

“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”

Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.

“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”

You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.

“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”

“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.

“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”

“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.

He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”

“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.

Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children with loads of worth to their names. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.

He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.

“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.

“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.

There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.

“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"

“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”

“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.

Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.

You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you���re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.

“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.

“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.

“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”

“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”

“It’s not enough,” he whispers.

“N-No,” you shake your head.

But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.

“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.

“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.

Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.

“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”

He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.

“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.

“Marry me,” you say it again.

He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.

“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” he denies.

“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”

His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.

“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.

“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”

“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”

“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”

He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.

“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.

“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. Your job; your family. You. Your heart.”

A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.

“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress,” he whispers the last part. “Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”

“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”

He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.

He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips.

“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.

He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.

“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.

“Where?” you follow him.

“My place,” he looks back at you.

You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.

You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city.

His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away.

The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.

“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.

You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.

Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.

“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.

“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.

The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.

You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.

You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, and he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.

With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.

You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to find the zipper of your dress.

He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he plays with the zipper.

“Please, Tae,” you allow him.

He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.

You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric down your hips. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.

But despite the plainness, you watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath the rest of your clothes. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook your bra yourself.

It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.

“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it is the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body.

He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.

“Tae?” you cup his cheek.

He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.

With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.

Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.

“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.

Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.

It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.

Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.

“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.

Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.

“Yes,” you nod.

You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.

“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.

“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.

“A little,” you admit with a small smile.

“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.

“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.

He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”

His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.

“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.

“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.

He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.

“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”

“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.

“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.

“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”

You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.

“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.

“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.

His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.

He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.

“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.

He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”

He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.

“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he raises his own.

“Will you?”

“Will I…?”

“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.

“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”

“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.

“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”

You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.

“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.

___

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]