#I pause the game and leave. I don’t ever turn it off ❤️

[frchillingrn]

I literally never close my game

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader 🖤 Summary: Damian and his girlfriend’s relationship is on the edge of collapse, and they discover a new, interesting way to reconnect. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Angst, alcohol, cockwarming, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes: Spanish translations are at the end of the story. I do not speak Spanish, so if anything is incorrect, please let me know and I’ll fix it! ❤️ It's super long, so I marked where the smut begins for my feral beauties ❤️ 🖤 Taglist: @pittieprincess22, @cyberdejos2, @brideofinfamy, @rainbowdreams-x. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: Anonymous. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

Staring at the label on the empty bottle of beer in her hand, she heard Damian’s boisterous laughter across the bar. She remembered a time not long ago when her own giggling would have been mixed in, but instead, here she sat, abandoned by her boyfriend so he could watch some stupid baseball game on the TV behind the bar with a group of other drunk guys he’d only just met this evening. She glanced over her shoulder at him, the tallest guy in the place, hair in a wet ponytail, dressed in his Yankees jersey, band t-shirt, and ripped jeans. Sexy as ever—the man only got more attractive with each passing year. His gestures were big as he entertained the circle around him, probably regaling them with stories from the road as a WWE superstar. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the beer bottle. She considered getting another one, but how much fun was it really going to be to be pissed off and drunk?

“You look lonely.”

She glanced up, eyebrow cocked, and found not a bad-looking man standing next to her table, but a man just the same, who was not her boyfriend. She cast her eyes back to Damian, and he was still otherwise occupied.

“I’m really not,” she replied.

“Sure you are,” the man argued, taking it upon himself to sit across from her. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and all she could do was hope Damian remained oblivious. “I saw your man leave you over here like an hour ago.”

Had it really been that long?

“Well, maybe I’m just not very good company,” she deadpanned.

“I don’t believe that,” the man said. “A pretty girl like you? You’d be the best company, and I sure as hell wouldn’t leave you alone all night.”

“Listen, I appreciate the interest, but—”

The man’s eyes lifted, focused on something behind her, and she didn’t need to turn around to know what was happening, or about to happen.

“Somethin’ you need?” Damian’s hulking presence was beside her, and she took another deep breath, leaning against the back of the booth. 

“Hey, man,” the guy seated in front of her said, lifting a hand a beer bottle, “nobody’s doing anything wrong. Just havin’ a conversation.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” Damian said, leaning his fists on the table, muscles and tattoos rippling beneath the sleeves of his jersey. “Let’s have a conversation.”

The man across from her tilted his head and told her, “Good luck,” before beginning to climb out of his seat.

“The fuck is your problem?” Damian commanded, shoving the guy with one hand as soon as he stood up, freely knocking him off balance and to the sticky floor.

“Damian, relax,” his girlfriend yelled, slamming her bottle of beer on the table. “We were just talking.”

“Well I got some things to say, too,” Damian growled.

“Great,” she said, climbing out of the booth. “You guys talk it out, and I’m gonna go home.��� 

Damian paused the stalking of his prey to focus on her for the first time since the incident began. They watched one another for a moment that lasted a lifetime, and she remembered falling in love with him the first time she saw him, she remembered feeling him the first night they’d had sex. She remembered holding hands and whispered secrets and promises of the future. He’d pledged to give her the world. Had he been lying when he’d sworn or had their relationship simply come to an unfortunate end? She didn’t know him well enough anymore to know the answer to what should have been a terribly straightforward question, and it horrified her, but she thought maybe if she could hold his concentration on her, he would recall all of those things, too. The good things. If he would just look deeply enough …

Damian severed their connection by turning back to a man and a situation that didn’t matter, and her heart disintegrated. Dusted, like in the Avengers. She grabbed her purse from the booth and had the Uber app pulled up on her phone before she even reached the door. She fought herself from looking back, repeating in her head that he wasn’t worth it—not anymore—in a futile attempt at making what she was about to do just a little easier. Yeah, right.

Once inside the Uber, her boyfriend having never once come out to check on her while she waited, she had another battle concerning whether or not to glimpse back. She kept her eyes forward until the vehicle was about to make a right hand turn, and suddenly there was a tug in her chest where her heart had once been. Like there was a string tied around the veins and arteries still remaining and it was connected to something she’d left behind. Clutching her aching chest with one hand, she pressed her other hand to the door to help her turn around, and she gasped, tears cascading down her cheeks. Damian was standing outside the bar, ponytail whipping this way and that as he searched desperately, perhaps finding what he was looking for in the back of the very vehicle she sat in as he promptly launched into an all-out sprint on the sidewalk, chasing after her. She slowly covered her mouth, weeping at the agony etched on his face, and she slid down in the seat, closing her eyes. 

She loved him. By all that was good and gracious in the world, she loved him with her entire being, but she couldn’t fucking do it anymore. She finished crying over the rest of the ride home, to their home, and she mumbled a thank you to the driver before getting out, closing the door behind her. The car sped off, she watched it go, and she imagined the scene was much like the one Damian had witnessed just a short bit ago. Her eyes slid to their front door, and she wrestled more tears as she plodded inside.

Damian arrived home faster than anticipated, but she’d had enough time to get herself together, to expel all the tears and soothe her trembling body by the time he came bounding through the door. Seeing her standing in the middle of the living room, he all but skidded to a stop. “I didn’t think—” He gestured at the door and held up his keys.

“We need … no, you need to figure out what you want, Damian,” she interrupted. 

He walked slowly around the couch, approaching her as if she were a lioness that could and probably would strike at any moment, rip him to pieces and devour him. When he was within a few feet, she took a step back. She knew what he was trying to do—he did it all the time. Get close enough to touch her, kiss her, hold her, coax her into believing she wasn’t mad about what she was really mad about. Her reaction stopped him dead in his tracks, and she watched his throat work as he swallowed.

“I don’t know—” he started.

“Of course you don’t know,” she interjected again, more tears pricking the corners of her eyes. So much for all cried out. “Why would you? It’s all about Damian. It has been ever since the beginning of this relationship, but I was too …” She sniffed, shrugged. “Too in love, I guess.” Her chuckle was pathetic as Damian breathed deeply through his nose, chest expanding and deflating. “And I thought you were in love with me …”

“What are you—? Of course—”

“Do you remember how we used to be?” she asked pitifully. “You were the Mickey to my Mallory …”

“Baby—”

“We actually made love for hours. We didn’t just fuck to cum like we do now.”

“Please listen to me …”

“No,” she stopped him one final time, her tone so soft she wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “I’m done listening.” She wiped fresh tears from her cheeks. “I put all your stuff for Raw by the door.” Damian’s brows furrowed and he turned to look at the door he’d just come through. His suitcase-on-wheels was lying on its front, a small duffel bag nearby—he’d blundered right past them. His eyes, now for the first time this entire evening beginning to show worry, returned to her, and they both knew how his luggage had gotten there from where he’d left it in their bedroom on the second floor. “I know you’re not supposed to leave for a day, but I just … I need you to go now.” Damian’s eyes fluttered closed and he scrubbed his huge hands over his face. “And while you’re gone, maybe you’ll remember what we used to have. How happy we used to be.”

“I’m—”

“If you say you’re happy, I swear to God—” She trailed off with a strangled chuckle.

“Oh, so you know how I feel?” Damian retorted.

She blinked up at him, and in his eyes, the ones that had once been so alive and so full of love, she could see misery and turbulence, and yeah, she could easily say she knew how he felt. She cleared her throat, brushing more tears from both cheeks quickly, as if she did it fast enough, he might not see how utterly broken she was. Maybe that’s what he needed to see. “I’m going upstairs,” she whispered, “and if you do love me, if you do care about me … you’ll leave.”

“Mi vida, please, just tell me—”

“You left me alone for an hour tonight!” his girlfriend suddenly erupted, and Damian’s eyes rounded. “We’ve seen each other four days in the past two weeks, and some fucking Yankees game has your attention? You try to fight some guy who didn’t know we were together because you left me alone for an hour?” Damian’s lips pursed and he remained silent for once. She sighed. “Goodbye, Damian. Have a safe trip.” 

She gave him a wide berth on her way to the stairs, stepping over his luggage as she headed up. Hurrying into their bedroom, she closed the door and locked it behind her, and by the time she’d slid down the wood until her ass met the carpet, she was a blubbering fool, covering her mouth to keep from crying out, to keep from hollering for Damian and telling him she was just kidding, and could he just hold her for a while and then everything would be okay? In time, she heard the front door open and close again. She could almost feel his presence, his very soul, drifting further away from her, that tugging in her chest returning, and she collapsed in slow motion, floating to the floor on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

She awoke some time later in the same fetal position, suspecting she’d passed out from sheer exhaustion. Lifting her head, her spine screamed from the base of her skull all the way to her tailbone, and the carpet stuck to her cheek—she could only imagine the pattern etched into her skin as she lurched into a sitting position. She’d left a lamp on in the corner of the room, the soft glow illuminating the empty space, the unmade bed she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep in at all, and as the quiet enveloped her, she wondered if there would ever be laughter here again. She looked at the chaise lounge opposite the lamp, a small smile quirking her lips when she could almost see herself straddling Damian’s lap there, and she could almost hear her voice whisper that she was in love with him and had been since shaking his hand on her first day at WWE.

She rolled her eyes, refusing to permit any more tears from staining her cheeks, but that didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts in the back of her mind. Did Damian remember these things? Did they mean anything to him? Did she? Or was it his career he was now madly in love with? She’d sent Damian away to decipher the answers to these important questions, but she wasn’t certain she’d be strong enough to hear the answers. She climbed to her feet, limping across the floor to grab her phone from her side of the bed. As she reached for it, she paused, rubbed her fingers along her palm, and took a deep breath—all she could do to prepare for what she might find waiting for her in her notifications.

The missed calls and text messages were both in the double digits, along with a few voicemails, all from Damian, and she swallowed a softball size lump in her throat as she opened the text messages. She knew damn good and well there was no way she’d be able to listen to his voice without breaking down once more, and she was so damn tired of crying.

She sat slowly on the bed, the earlier suspicion she might not be able to sleep here blotted out by the overwhelming need to somehow be near Damian even though she’d just sent him across the country a day earlier than either of them had anticipated. Her dying phone slid from her hand, thumping on the carpet, as she backed across the king-size bed until she was on Damian’s side. Somehow the man slept with only one very thin pillow, so she grabbed one of hers and added it underneath before slipping her legs under the blanket and sheet. She was instantly inundated by the scent of Damian’s leave-in conditioner, but most importantly, the spice that was simply him drifted inside her nostrils and she was both allayed and shattered at the same time. Still depleted, now more than before, her heavy eyelids fell and she drifted off into a land of nightmares.

As Damian’s plane bound for Washington crashed above her into the side of a mountain, she was jolted awake. Her upper body careened forward, hair flying, arms reaching out because maybe if she could just catch the plane … A hand on her shoulder brought her fully out of unconsciousness, and she jumped again. 

“It’s okay! It’s just me!” Tiffy. Beautiful, sweet, perfect Tiffy, but all Damian’s girlfriend could think about was the fact that Tiffy had Ludwig and Ludwig had Tiffy and they were disgustingly happy and she was wildly envious.

“Tiffy,” she whispered. “What are you …” She scratched her head, looking up at Miss Money in the Bank, eyes mere slits. “How did you get in here?”

“Damian called Ludwig,” she explained. “He said he hadn’t talked to you in hours and your phone was going straight to voicemail.” Damian’s girlfriend nodded, though not wholly comprehending. “He told me where the spare key was.” She held it up.

“I see,” the dejected woman in bed said. “Well, I’m fine.”

“Obviously,” Tiffy rolled her eyes, “just like Damian is just fine.” Her pink manicured nails formed air quotes.

“Tiffany, I really don’t—”

“Look. It’s almost one o’clock, so I brought two of these—” She lifted the neck of a bottle of wine out of her glittery tote bag. “Let’s talk.”

Damian’s girlfriend was really getting tired of people demanding she speak to them, but she supposed this was different. Maybe she needed another perspective. She sent Tiffany to the patio by the pool while she changed out of the clothes she’d worn to the bar the night before and then had slept in, brushed her teeth, and as she was headed across the bedroom toward the door, she spotted her phone still lying on the white carpet. She feared what she’d see upon bringing it back to life, so she left it where it was, closed the door after her, and met Tiffy by the pool.

Nursing a hangover on Sunday and into the evening on Monday thanks to Tiffy Time, Damian’s girlfriend was again in bed, on his side, iPad in her lap, Monday Night Raw on the television. Tiffany had succeeded in making her feel at least a little better, agreeing that things had gotten bad enough between them that sending him to Washington early was probably the best way to get through to him, although, she added, it seemed a bit harsh. She recalled a similar situation between herself and Ludwig—their schedules had been completely opposite, they never saw each other, and their connection had started to dissolve—to which Tiffany had responded in a completely different manner. Instead of kicking him out and sending him across the country, she’d done internet research and consulted various friends in search of a way to reconnect with her boyfriend.

And the route of reconnection Tiffany had discovered was now in the search bar of Safari: cockwarming. Damian’s girlfriend had heard of it, but never given it much thought, assuming it was just one of a million other ways to please a man, but Tiffany had assured her that cockwarming wasn’t about giving or receiving pleasure, it was about being present and intimate with someone you loved, building or rebuilding a physical and emotional relationship by linking together in the closest way possible. It made sense, and she was willing to try anything. 

She glanced up at the muted television, heart skipping a beat when saw Damian in the middle of a match. He looked tired, and maybe he was hungover too, and he just didn’t seem as on point as he normally was. A little slower, a little careless, a little like he didn’t give a fuck. She turned the TV off, rubbing at her forehead. She was responsible for his distraction, and she hadn’t meant for their problems to interfere with his work, but she’d acted so rashly in kicking him out, she hadn’t considered any effect it would have on his live television performance. She hadn’t considered him at all, if she were being honest, so what did that say about her? Maybe Damian wasn’t the only one who needed to figure things out.

Without warning,  a bolt of lightning shot through her entire body, a current of electricity coursing across her skin, and she jumped out of bed. She looked at Damian’s side where she’d been sitting, her pillow under his, and it wasn’t right. She glanced at the TV and Raw wasn’t on and she wasn’t cussing at whomever Damian’s opponent was, and it wasn’t right. She hadn’t kissed him goodbye and he hadn’t slapped her ass for good luck, as was their routine, and it wasn’t right. The way she’d made him leave, ignoring him—none of it was right. Her eyes cut to her phone on the bed, to her purse on the chair, ending on a pair of sneakers in the corner of the room. Her brain shut off, leaving her heart in control, and her legs were moving. She grabbed the phone and the purse, slipped her feet in the shoes, and jogged downstairs. She grabbed her keys from the table and slammed the front door behind her.

She found herself at the airport, still on autopilot, and she bounced from one foot to the other as she waited in line to purchase a ticket. When she finally reached the desk, she placed her wallet on the counter. “Hi,” she said, “I need to get to Seattle tonight. Right now. One way.” 

The lady behind the computer punched several keys. “Well, it’s your lucky day,” she beamed, and Damian’s girlfriend suppressed the urge to punch her. “I have one seat left on a flight leaving in thirty minutes.”

“Great.”

“It’s $1,798.” Of course the only seat left would be first class.

“That’s fine,” she said, rummaging through her wallet for her credit card and identification. Damian was worth it, their relationship was worth it. 

Aboard the plane, she tried to sleep, but it was impossible. She tried to read a book on her phone, but she couldn’t concentrate. She ended up spending most of the flight reading and rereading Damian’s text messages, self-loathing growing with each pass. Yes, he was responsible for their abrupt separation, but she was just as much to blame. 

Landing in Washington, she checked her messages again, this time tapping on the thread with Rhea, who’d responded to her question while she’d been 37,000 feet in the air. Armed with the information provided by Damian’s closest friend, she ordered an Uber and gave him the address of Damian’s hotel. She rode the elevator to the top floor, wondering if he’d had to pay extra for a last minute booking, which, again, would have been her fault. Same with the price of his plane ticket. Of course, whatever she’d cost them monetarily paled in comparison to the time she’d cost them. 

SMUT Standing in front of Damian’s hotel room door, she knocked softly. Moments later the door opened, and there he stood, the love of her life, the Mickey to her Mallory, the very face she wanted to see before she died. He was in a black sleeveless shirt and black basketball shorts, and he looked burnt out and used up, and was she accountable for that too? But when he realized who was standing in front of him, those dead eyes reanimated, and his hunched shoulders squared. They gazed at one another for an extended moment, a silent conversation passing between them, an ask of permission and consent granted.

Damian stepped into the hall, and his girlfriend raised her elbows so he could position his big hands under her armpits before slowly, tenderly, lifting her in the air, not unlike picking up a crying toddler. Her arms slipped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he completed their puzzle by enveloping her in his protective embrace. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, crossed her feet behind him, and she was home. He held her for a while in the hall before stepping back inside the hotel room, the mechanism at the top of the door closing it for him, and then he held her some more, still standing, placing a hand on the back of her head. Eventually he took a seat in the chair beside the bed, his girlfriend repositioning her legs so she was straddling him, sitting back on his thighs, and they were able to look at each other again.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke first, cupping her face. “You’re right. I took you for granted. I took everything we have for granted.” He shook his head, eyes round and clear and the most delicious shade of chocolate. “I know what we were before … and I know … we’re not—we’re not that anymore. Just tell me how to make it right.” He brought their foreheads together, and her hands braced herself on his hard chest. “Tell me how to fix it. Because I ain’t quitting, and I ain’t letting you go.”

His girlfriend smiled for the first time in days, but it was fleeting. “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I’m sorry, too.”

Damian shook his head, eyes searching her face. “No more apologies.” He kissed her forehead, and she laid her head on his chest. “So what do we do?” he mumbled against the top of her head.

Her eyes opened. “I just think we … need to reconnect,” she said. “And … I might have an idea how we can start.”

She explained cockwarming with a hell of a lot less grace and knowledge than Tiffany, and a hell of a lot more embarrassment, if her superheated cheeks were any kind of clue. But Damian listened, and his focus was solely on her, and he didn’t make fun of the idea, and they were already headed in the right direction. They agreed to give it a try here and now, as there was no better time than the present, and they were both too exhausted to engage in much else. The couple made their way to the bed, Damian’s girlfriend toeing her shoes off before they removed each other’s clothing, and they climbed under the blankets.

The experience was supposed to be more about intimacy and less about having sex, she’d illustrated, but, to make it easier for him to slip inside her, she’d have to get at least a little damp. It was no secret what Damian did to her simply by existing, so he smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder so he could cradle her neck, thumb caressing her jawline. He pressed their lips together, the couple sharing a sigh of relief, and she rested her fingers on his wrist as they kissed. All the fear and worry and stress melted away as her arousal grew, and as they’d both suspected, it didn’t take long for her to become wet and ready, and, consequently, for Damian to become hard.

“Sorry,” he said.

“That is something you’re never gonna have to apologize for,” his girlfriend assured him. They shared a smile. “Just try to keep from, you know … fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say,” Damian commented, and they snickered. “How do you wanna …?“

She rolled over to her other side, backing up against him, semi-hard dick slipping between her ass cheeks. Damian whispered in her ear to be careful, and she couldn’t help the smile. They were going to get through this. He positioned her how he needed, making sure she was comfortable before slowly sliding inside her. He moaned, playing it off by clearing his throat, and she was barely able to mask her own whine. His arm slid under her pillow, gripping her hand that was already there, his other arm wrapping around her, and she held that hand with hers against her chest. He twitched inside her, and her pussy instinctively clenched around him, and their holds tightened on each other.

“You know it’s been, like, 50 hours since I left,” Damian said, following a moment of adjustment and silence.

“Damian …”

“No, I—I just mean … that was 50 hours without you. 50 hours to think about everything, all of it. So I don’t want you to feel bad for kicking me out. You were right. I needed time to figure things out.”

“And what did you figure out?” she asked. Considering he was inside her and holding her and he hadn’t slammed the door in her face, she knew his answer was at least a little positive.

“I haven’t been there for you,” he said, voice so deep, his girlfriend could all but feel her pussy producing slickness. “I made my job and everything else more important than you. And I’m sorry.” He pulled her closer, his cock slipping that much deeper within her. His biceps were unforgiving but protective, and the steady rise and fall of his chest comforted her on a level she’d never experienced before. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” she said, squeezing his hands.

“You don’t—”

“Damian, there are two people in this relationship. What if I had just talked to you about how I was feeling weeks ago? We could have avoided—”

“I know me, you know me. It wouldn’t have had the same effect as kicking my dumbass out of my own house had.”

She sighed, believing what he said, but there would be no way to erase the guilt she still felt. 

“I love you, querida,” he uttered into her ear. “Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre.”

Her body shuddered, Damian’s arm tightening around her. “I love you, Papí.” He pressed his face into the back of her neck, and the couple was physically as close as they could possibly be to one another. She felt her heart rebuilding, she felt their connection rejoining, and she knew just this one night wasn’t going to solve all their problems, but they were making an effort, and that was enough for now. “I love when you’re inside me,” she breathed, eyes closing.

“I know,” Damian whispered.

She awoke sometime later, eyes slowly blinking open. The sun was beginning to rise and her body was moving, ever so gently, her head sliding up and down the pillow. Regaining consciousness, she realized that where Damian had been semi-hard and comforting inside her before falling asleep, he was now solid and thick, filling her to the brim, and his hips were thrusting somewhat casually against her. And then she heard a faint snore from him, and that explained everything. She thought about waking him, she really did, but he felt too fucking good and she’d missed him too fucking much, and it had been a long fucking time since they’d been so intimate. There was no way she could fight this.

She let him continue, his pumps erratic and varying in strength, but she didn’t care. His hand rose from the mattress, sliding past one nipple to cup the opposite breast, which he instinctively squeezed, groped, and that particular pump was hard and deep. She cried out, smacking a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late.

“Shit,” Damian breathed. “I’m sorry, I thought I was dreamin’.”

She reached back, grabbing at his hip over the blanket. “No,” she whispered, “please don’t stop.”

“But—”

“Please, Papí,” she begged.

Damian attacked her neck, sucking, biting, and she moaned into the pillow, imagining proudly wearing his marks for all to see on the way home. His thrusts became steadier, more powerful, and his hand returned to her breast. He brushed the cool metal of his rings along her nipple before pinching and pulling, and her back bowed, pulling him deeper inside her pussy.

“This isn’t …” he trailed off, panting, and she recognized the sounds he was making, the words he was repeating.

She lifted her hips away from him, allowing him to carefully slip from inside her. Rolling over, she climbed on top of him, stroking his big cock a few times before lining her pussy up with the head. Meeting Damian’s gaze, she sank down onto him at a snail’s pace, watching as his eyes averted to witness their bodies join together, lasting longer than she expected before he laid his head back on the pillow, eyes closing, mouth uttering a string of obscenities. Biting her lip, she massaged her soft hands along the firm planes of his tattooed pecs until she found a suitable position that would allow for optimal riding. As she was about to lift her hips, Damian’s fingers encircled her wrists and raised her hands, melding their palms together, their fingers intertwining, his elbows anchoring them to the mattress.

“Ride it, baby,” he growled.

Grinning, his girlfriend’s eyes closed and her grip tightened on his hands and her hips started to move. She was instantly reminded of his size as she rose, her pussy shrinking back to its normal proportion the further he was removed, only to be stretched again with the next downward thrust.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Damian moaned, as she repeated the action over and over.

“I missed you so much,” she breathed, impaling herself fully and then grinding her clit against him. She freed her fingers from his and put them back on his chest, her entire body moving with her hips.

“I know,” Damian whispered. He grabbed two handfuls of her ass and took control of the pace. “Fuck, yeah, bounce on it. Bounce on my cock, baby.”

She obeyed, though he was doing most of the work, which ended up with him holding her still and his cock hammering up into her. “Oh, God,” she squeaked, his pounding hitting that secret spot inside her. “I’m gonna cum, Papí.”

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and he jerked her down until their lips smashed together. “Say my name,” he breathed. “Say my fucking name.”

“Damian,” she wailed, pulsing around the battering ram that was his dick. Their lips smacked and their teeth clacked, and her throbbing cunt milked his own orgasm. The kissing continued as they rode out the waves of pleasure, as every ounce of stress and heartache and worry melted away, to be replaced by hope and love and positivity for the future.

Sleep was knocking, and she slowly descended until her cheek was on his chest, his softening cock staying warm within her. “I love you,” she whispered, almost like an afterthought, and Damian chuckled, placing a hand on her head.

“I love you, mi vida.”

🎀 Mi vida — My life 🎀 Mi alma — My soul 🎀 Querida — Dearest/Beloved, term of endearment 🎀 Eres mi vida, mi alma, mi todo. Siempre — You’re my life, my soul, my everything. Forever 

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

summary: how is this possible? you asked yourself.

a month has passed by since living in munich.

(you know the drill, pretend the girls (not klara) in these pictures are you instead!)

y/n.l/n

{tagged: buehlklara}

liked by lenaoberdorf, georgiastanway, and 278 others

y/n.l/n my days in munich so far ❤️

view comments

*❤️ by author*

sydneylohmann 🥰

*❤️ by author*

yasmeenbrown I miss you 🥲 <3

y/n.l/n I miss you more <3

*❤️ by author*

lenaoberdorf where is our pics? 🙄🩷

y/n.l/n we need to take some together :D

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buehlklara 😎

*7 likes*

wosouser2718 how do you know all of the bayern girls!?

*❤️ by author*

tuvahansen so cute ☺️

---

that evening, as you settle into the couch at home, netflix playing quietly in the background, your phone buzzes beside you. you had just made an instagram post a few hours ago, one that’s now filled with comments from the bayern girls, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by your friend yasmeen back home. 

she’s calling now, and you already have a feeling what it’s about.

you pause the show and pick up the phone. 

"hey, yas."

"girl," yasmeen starts, her voice playful but curious, 

"what is going on? how are there so many verified people commenting on your insta? like, am i missing something here? how are you suddenly best friends with a bunch of football stars?"

you smile, knowing this question was coming. "oh, you know," you say, trying to keep your tone casual, "i met them through a mutual friend here in germany. we just hit it off."

"mutual friend, huh?" yasmeen’s tone is skeptical, but she lets it slide for now. 

"well, i saw lena oberdorf in the comments. y/n i am a chelsea fan but still know how important that girl is– i know you’re not messing around. i mean, you’ve only been there a few weeks, and you’re already hanging out with pros? i need details, y/n."

you hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much. while yasmeen is your best friend back home, you feel protective of what you’ve found here in munich. 

the friendships you’ve made with the bayern girls feel special, and you don’t want to turn it into something you brag about. you trust them, and they trust you. you just want to respect your friend’s boundaries. 

"yeah, they’re really cool," you say, keeping it simple. 

"but i don’t want to spill too much. it’s still new, you know?"

yasmeen sighs, clearly sensing that you don’t want to go into detail. 

"fine, fine. i won’t push. but just know that i’m totally jealous. if you ever get tickets to a game when i visit you, you better bring me along."

you laugh. 

"i got you, yas. don’t worry."

"alright," yasmeen says, her tone softening. 

"i just miss you. it’s weird not having you around."

"i miss you too," you say, feeling a pang of homesickness. 

"but it’s been good here. i’ve made some friends, and it’s starting to feel more like home."

"good," she says. 

"i’m happy for you. just don’t forget about us back home, okay?"

"never," you promise. 

"you’ll always be my first best friend."

after a few more minutes of catching up, yasmeen hangs up, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you glance at the comments on your instagram post again, smiling at the playful remarks from the bayern girls. 

you feel a sense of peace knowing that you’ve built new friendships in a new country, something you want to protect.

the next afternoon, you find yourself walking down the street toward georgia’s house, your laptop bag slung over your shoulder. georgia only lives a few doors down from you, and today a bunch of the bayern girls are meeting up there to hang out. 

you’re still a little amazed at how quickly you’ve become part of their circle, you’re excited to hang out with your new friends.

when you arrive, the door’s already open, and you hear voices coming from inside. georgia spots you first and waves you in. 

"y/n! come on in!!"

you walk into the living room, where sydney, giulia, lea, lena, sam, sarah, and ana are already lounging around the kitchen island or in the living room. 

"hey, everyone," you say, smiling as you set your laptop down on the coffee table.

"y/n!" sydney says, getting up to give you a quick hug. 

"glad you could make it."

"of course," you say, hugging her back. 

"i just live a couple of doors down, i wouldn’t miss this."

you settle onto the couch, opening your laptop to send a quick email for work. as you start typing, lena moves over and sits closely beside you, her shoulder lightly brushing against yours.

"hey," lena says softly, glancing at your screen. 

"what’re you working on?"

"just an email for work," you reply, glancing at her. 

"i’ll be done in a second. is it okay if i sit here?"

"of course," lena says, her smile easy. 

"i was just curious. i don’t mind watching you work."

you nod, trying to focus on your email, but you can feel the warmth of lena sitting so close. it’s not like you haven’t been around her before, but something about today feels different. 

you realize that you might be developing a crush on her compared to how you feel with the rest of your friends, but you push the thought aside, not wanting to overthink it. 

after all, you’ve barely been here a month, and you don’t want to make things weird.

after finishing the email, you close your laptop and lean back, relaxing into the couch. 

"all done," you say, smiling at lena.

"good," lena says, her eyes sparkling a bit as she looks at you. 

"so now you’re all ours."

before you can respond, sydney calls out from the kitchen. 

"y/n, lena! georgia and i baked something. you have to try it."

you laugh, getting up to see what she’s talking about. sydney holds up a tray with a pumpkin loaf on it, looking proud. 

"we made a pumpkin loaf. want to try a slice?"

"ouu absolutely," you say, grinning. 

"it smells amazing."

sydney cuts you a tiny sample piece and hands it to you. you take a bite, your eyes widening in surprise. 

"this is so good! can i get a full slice?"

"of course," sydney says, laughing as she cuts another slice for you. you sit back down on the couch, enjoying the treat.

before you can take another bite, lena leans over and jokingly snatches a piece of your loaf, popping it into her mouth with a grin.

"hey!" you laugh, swatting at her playfully. 

"that was mine!"

lena grins, chewing slowly. "it’s good," she says, her eyes teasing. 

"thanks for sharing."

the other girls start laughing at the exchange, with giulia chiming in, 

"looks like you’re gonna have to guard your food around lena."

"i’ll remember that next time," you joke, shaking your head in disbelief.

you’re having fun, the atmosphere light and playful as everyone jokes and talks. it feels like you’re surrounded by friends—real friends—and it hits you just how lucky you are to have found this group.

a notification buzzes from your phone, and you glance at it to see a message in the group chat. tuva has sent a link to a concert happening next week and asks if anyone’s interested in going.

"concert?" sydney asks, reading over your shoulder. 

"who’s down?"

"i’m in," georgia says from the kitchen.

"me too," giulia adds, and soon, everyone in the room agrees to go. even the others who couldn’t make it to georgia’s house today chime in with excited messages in the group chat.

"looks like we’re all going then," you say, smiling as you text tuva back.

the rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter, food, and easy conversation. you all end up watching a movie on the big sectional couch in georgia’s living room, the girls casually leaning against each other, some even falling asleep since its getting dark outside. 

you feel warm, wrapped up in the comfort of their friendship.

as the movie plays, you find yourself reflecting on how you got here. it’s wild to think that just a few weeks ago, you were worried about being alone in munich, scared of starting over in a new place. 

now, here you are, surrounded by some of the coolest, most genuine people you’ve ever met.

it all started with a wrong number, and somehow, it turned into this—a new life, with new friends who accept you just as you are. 

they trust you, and you trust them, and there’s a deep sense of belonging that fills you with warmth.

you glance at lena, who’s sitting closest to you, still teasing you from earlier. you feel that little spark again, the one you’ve been trying to ignore, but you don’t overthink it. 

you’re happy, content, and right now, that’s enough.

part four here

[thegildedbee]

Familiar/Fall: May 3 & May 4 Prompts from @calaisreno

I've been knocked off my feet at comments some of y'all have shared ❤️🌞🌺(so I've added some tags if you want to keep following along -- let me know, though, if you'd prefer not to have your stream cluttered :-) Program note: So the comments have surprised me into doing something I hadn't thought to do with @calaisreno's daily-merrie-month-of-May-party-invites: incubate a fic. So, full disclosure, seat of the pants improvising is the order of the day! There's no storyline tucked away in my pocket, not even a hazy 🌫️ one -- I'll be making this up as I go along 🤔, responding to the first thing that pops into my head with the prompts (so the timeline will be bouncing around and I will likely be working myself into puzzles I can't get out of 😰) But, hey, if you're game, so am I, you crazy kids! 😜 .............................................................................................

"John, right on time,” Lestrade says, waving him in after hearing the knock at his office door.

John steps across the threshold and pauses, tilting his head to gesture at the door. 

“Right,” Lestrade replies, with a quick nod at the unvoiced question. “Turn the lock.” He shuts down the computer window that's open on his screen, and walks over to John and grasps his good shoulder.

“This is really happening, then?” he asks, scanning John’s face intently.

“It really is,” John confirms, pushing his shoulders back slightly and reflexively straightening his already straightened posture. “I’ll be leaving for parts unknown in two days' time, so I’ve been doing not much else -- even sleeping -- except cramming the prep. As we suspected, Mycroft tries to arrange for local operatives as back-up for Sherlock -- that is, when he knows where he is, or where he might be headed, which is often not the case -- but I’ll be a roving asset, one that he won’t ever meet face-to-face.”

“A shadow,” Lestrade offers.

“Yeah, something like that. As far as Sherlock will know, I’m still in London. Mycroft has stripped the metadata from stills he's pulled from CCTV footage that he can use to send to Sherlock if he asks for an update on my status.”

Lestrade takes that in, and then nods his head. “No time to waste. Let’s get what you came for, and send you back out to do whatever needs doing before you leave.”

Slipping on a pair of nitrile gloves, Lestrade walks over to a bank of filing cabinets at the back of the room, moving swiftly to pull out and fully extend the second drawer from the bottom of the second unit on the right. He barely glances at the contents, reaching toward the back for a horizontally stacked set of folders, which he lifts up and sets aside. He then retrieves a small black steel case that’s been revealed and sets it on a nearby table, and beckons for John to join him, pulling another set of gloves from his pocket and holding them out for him to use. 

Lestrade pulls a blank file folder from the bottom of the stack he’d removed and opens it, revealing a small key taped inside, which he detaches and hands to John.

“Thanks, mate,” John says, a slight catch in his voice, “for keeping it safe . . . and for returning it.” He raises his fist to his mouth and coughs into it briefly, which allows him to pause and regain his composure. “I know this wasn’t a by-the-book decision,” he acknowledges.

Lestrade snorts. “That’s one way of putting it,” he says, giving a shrug. John touches his elbow, and says insistently, “It was a risk for you, a real one. Don’t think I don’t know that. Once I walk through the door we’ll forget it ever happened. Although I won’t ever forget you standing by me.” 

John uses the key to open the steel box, and stops to gaze at the Sig P226 before he picks it up. He palms the grip, the familiar feel of its shape and of its weight in his hand a comforting one. He briefly disassembles it, then reassembles it, giving it another long look. Hello, comrade. We took out the first henchman Moriarty set at Sherlock, and, when the time comes, we’ll finish the game and take out the last one as well.

John furrows his forehead and looks at Lestrade, his expression fading from determination to being at a loss, saying in a lowered voice, “And thanks for taking it away from me when you did. You’re a damn smart copper, Greg, and a damn fine friend. I owe you.”

“Ah, hell, John, no,” Lestrade protests, throwing up his hands. “That you were in such a dark place is partly down to my own participation in the whole bloody shitshow at 221B,” he says, a pained look on his face.

John places the Sig at the small of his back, and looks down at his shoes, pausing for a moment before turning to Lestrade, and saying harshly, “We were pawns, Greg. Pawns of all of them: Moriarty, Mycroft, MI6. All of us were trapped in a knotted-up web they were weaving as they pulled the strings. It was a struggle to even begin to figure how to get out in front of any of it.” He squeezes his eyes shut, and sighs. "It was a colossal clusterfuck.”

The two men look at each other, somber, each recalling, in retrospect, what they can now understand counted and what didn’t, what they should have seen but had failed to recognize, and how the seemingly solid facts they thought were in their grasp had liquefied, running through their fingers, leaving only emptiness behind.

Leaning his hip against the table, John crosses his arms across his chest, and says evenly, “And Sherlock, too. I try to imagine what it was like in his brain in the days before Bart’s, running scenarios and switching-out variables, over and over, unable to fight his way out of a tangle of nets and hooks, trying to find the surface. 

“We didn’t know . . . but when he fell . . . from Bart’s roof,” John says, starting, then stopping, his voice trailing off, lost in whatever he’s picturing in his mind’s eye. “His fall . . . it’s as if he slashed through the tangled-up parts of the web when he fell. And that made an opening to begin taking all of it apart.”

Lestrade makes a soft noise of agreement, and then rocks back on his heels, his hands in his pockets. “I know it’s hard for you to know how long you may be gone . . . but I hope we see the both of you back here soon.” He reaches out to shake John’s hand, and then shifts, pulling him into a hug instead. “You take care out there, mate. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open here.”

“Well, that’s what got us this far,” John says, with a knowing look at Lestrade. “I wouldn’t be doing this on our terms without all of us having brought it about. Mission accomplished, in getting out into the field; let’s hope the first leg of what's to follow goes just as well.” ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack @msladysmith @ninasnakie

[romanoffsbish]

Dialogue Prompt List 2.0

Angst/Fluff/Smut/ H/C prompts listed. (18+)

— = Y/N or Character

I write wlw exclusively, but feel free to rearrange gendered pronouns for your fics. ❤️

Angst

“What the fuck told you this was a good plan, hm?” / “I just wanted to do something nice for you…” / “Yeah, well you failed!”

“Me? Love you? *incredulous laughter* Look, I know you live in delusion most days, but this is ridiculous. You’re unlovable —.”

“So this was just a game to you, why?” / “I always loved a challenge, but it turned out you were an easy catch, I’m bored now.”

“Making me fall in love with you when you never intended to stay was cruel, —.” / “I told you from the start I’d only break your heart —.” / “I thought you were joking since you slept with me an hour later!” / “Yeah, that’s where you made a mistake. You chose to be foolish and entangle the heart where it never had a chance to thrive.”

“This is all your fucking fault —!” … “You never should’ve come here, you are clearly only capable of making things worse.”

Fluff

“Please tell me there isn’t something on my face —?” / “What?” / “You’re staring…” /“oh, no, I just got lost in your eyes for a second. You’re just so mesmerizing.”

“Hey —!” / “Hey —(nickname/term of endearment), what’s got you so excited, hm?” / “I’m about to ask my crush out…” / “Oh, um, I wish you the best of luck.” / *awkward obvious silence* / “Hey —.” / “Yeah?” *soft/sad whisper* / “Are you free tonight? Say 6? I scored tickets to the local game.” / “Wait, I thought.” *pause of realization* “Oh my gosh, you like me?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have the prettiest eyes?” / *Person B rolls them* “Only you, about a hundred times.” / *Person A chuckles nervously* “Well it’s the truth, I have never been lost and found all in one go. But whenever I look into them thats what happens.” / “Yet you haven’t asked me out.” / “I believe in the long game —, I would never want to rush our forever.”

“Stop it!” / “Stop what” / “Looking at me like I’m all you’ll ever want. It’s unfair.” / “How so?” / “Because it gives me hope.” / “Have you ever considered it’s not hope, but a sign that you should go out on a date with me tonight.” / “Oh…” / *Person B winks* “I’ll pick you up at 7 sweetheart.”

“I adore —, but it’s definitely a bit one sided.” / “That’s it, we’re taking you for an eye exam, clearly you’ve gone blind.” / “This isn’t funny, I love them so much—, but...” / *Person B interrupts A’s pity party* “Hey Y/N!” * R looks up and hums with a warm smile, as her eyes cast over to Person A / Person B smirks at the visible proof.* / “— wants you to meet her on the roof tonight, wear your evening best.” / “Oh, why? I-is this a date?” / *Person A went to speak, to shut it down but B confirms in an instant. R’s eyes widen, and then she squeals a yay before leaving* / “See —? I expect to be the maid of honor.”

Smut

“Meet me in my room in five…” / “Why?” / “So I can make those pretty eyes of yours roll to the back of your head silly girl…”

“Tell me how badly you want it sweetie.” / “Bad enough that I’d let you fuck me raw.”

“We’re leaving.” / “What? Why? I’m having fun!” / “We can have fun at home —.” / “I’m not going —.” / “Fine, then I guess I’ll just have to fuck you here in front of everyone. Maybe then they’ll finally know who you belong to, and you’ll also remember.”

“I am studying —, I can’t take any breaks.” / *takes your caffeine source* “Honey, that’s precisely the problem, you are overworking yourself, and you need mommy to wipe your brain of thought.”

“Take it off, please.” / “You turned a blind eye to my advances —, so you can remain in the dark as I fuck you senseless too.”

Hurt / Comfort

“—, you need to get out of bed, it’s been weeks…” / “It’s okay —, you don’t have to pretend to care.” / “I’m not, so please, let me care for you until you can do it for yourself.” / *timid whispers* “okay…”

“Hey —, do you think I’ll ever find love?” / “Where is this coming from —? Of course you will.” / “Then why haven’t I? The unsavory truth is simple—I’m unlovable.” / “No, it’s because you haven’t noticed me…”

“You belong here —.” / “The team doesn’t seem to agree” *while packing a duffle / “Last time I checked the team was made up of idiots with ego-stroking agendas. The last thing we need is to lose one of the few genuinely selfless souls.” … “Not that that means what you did was right. It’s just also not the end of the world either. It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?” / “No.” / “How can I fix that?” / “I don’t think I can be fixed.” / “How about you let me try? I’ll remind you everyday just how loved you are. I can’t imagine a world without you —, so please let me be here for you so I never have to.”

“What’s wrong?” / “It’s all gray now.” / “What is?” / “The world. Nothing fits. It’s all just catastrophe and chaos. I feel so lost.” / “Sometimes being lost is a good thing.” / “How so?” / “It’s merely a sign to tell you that your path needs rerouting dear, it’s how evolution remains possible. This isn’t the end you see, it’s only just the beginning of something new.” / “I really like that.” / “I like you” (cheesy little kiss to follow 🥹)

[thegreatwicked]

I need some insights into Maul fic Moonlight randezvous!

🖤❤️

I had no idea you were a Maul fan!! You shold go read my Meditations story! I think you'd love it! Enjoy this juicy little tidbit because this story has taken me forever to figure out and I'm horrifically stalled!

"You managed to pique my interest," the admission surprised even himself. "And that's no easy feat." he asked, taking a step closer to the bath, his gaze lingered on Zeala's tattooed body, his eyes tracing the intricate lines and symbols. "What tongue is this? What do they mean?" 

"They're just pretty lines,"

“I don’t believe you.”

"Is that really why you’re here, a shared fascination with body art?" she countered, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Maul scoffed, her dry wit was charming. 

“Why did you assist my brother?”

“Maybe I did it out of the goodness of my heart?” She smiled at him brushing her hand over her breast near her heart, Maul simply scoffed and shook his head. 

Maul's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Zeala, unyielding in his scrutiny.

"Out of the goodness of your heart? I find that hard to believe," he retorted, his voice laced with skepticism. “Don’t play games with me. I've never seen a woman with so many bounties on her head. There are plenty who desire your demise, and some even relish the thought of inflicting pain before delivering the final blow."

“Well, I suppose I do have a way of attracting attention.”

The room felt stifling, and Maul's heavy robes only added to the discomfort. He tried to remain focused on the matter at hand, but it was challenging with Zeala's alluring presence before him.

“Being owed a favor by a high-ranking member of a criminal syndicate might extend your life, wouldn't it?” Her smile widened as Maul seemed to catch on quickly.

“Not necessarily, having ally’s in high ranking criminal organizations can be about as reliable as having a pet rancor, it might protect me, or it might bite my head off… But I suppose it can’t hurt my chances.” 

“Did you know who Feral was when you decided to help him?

“Yes, his identity played a part in my decision.”

Maul's expression turned grave as he leaned closer, his grip on her chin tightening and becoming slightly painful.

"Do not think you can deceive me, I will know if you are lying" he warned. "Did you engineer the circumstances that led to my brother's misfortune?"

Zeala's demeanor shifted, her eyes locking onto his with a steely resolve.

"No, I did not, you have my word," she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Your brother and I were simply in the right place at the right time.”

Maul’s burning eyes shore into her violet ones and after a moment he seemed satisfied and he released her.

“And now he owes you a favor?”

“Yes, he does.”

Maul studied her, trying to gauge her intentions. "Why a favor and not credits?" 

“I haven’t dealt in anything as common as credits in years.” Zeala leaned back, crossing her legs as she looked at him. "Credits can lose their value or disappear with the stroke of a key, secrets, information, and favors are priceless. Entire empires have fallen over carefully leveraged information. I stay one step ahead of my enemies by maintaining a delicate balance of favors and debts,"

“My brother, Savage, thinks you're a ghost, he clings to the superstitious beliefs of our fellow Nightbrothers. It was only my command that kept him from spilling your blood.” he paused, “Assuming that you bleed at all.” 

She chuckled, “I can assure you I do, I have the scars to prove it.” she said, running a finger along the surface of the water.

Maul tilted his head, considering her carefully. "Are you a threat, then?" he asked, his tone challenging.

Zeala met his gaze with an unwavering stare. "Only to those who cross me," she replied, her voice calm but filled with conviction, a dangerous undertone beneath her composed exterior.

“You want to know what my motivations are? I’ll tell you. I want to survive. I don’t ever want to sleep on a cold, damp floor again and I never want to be under the thumb of anyone more powerful than me ever again. I want to know a bit of comfort before I meet my maker. I’m many things but I don’t betray those who don’t betray me. Does that satisfy you?"

Her voice was laced with bitterness that Maul could feel came from a very difficult life, which he could relate to.

“A curious creature you are,”

“Does being curious increase my chances of survival?”

Maul leaned forward. "I don't trust you,"

Zeala met his gaze without flinching. "It’s a delicate thing, isn't it?" she said softly. “Seems to me we need to build trust if either of us want to leave this room alive.”

“How might one establish a bit of trust?”

A mischievous smile played on Zeala's lips as she leaned back against the edge of the bath looking up at him, her eyes fixed. "I can think of one way," she replied playfully, her hand gesturing towards the steaming water. “Trust should go both ways, from where I sit you have the advantage and you’re looking at me like prey.”

Maul's deep chuckle filled the air, "Cornered, defenseless, alone, and naked. In this moment, you look exactly like prey," he replied with an unpredictable fire in his eyes, his lips curled into a dangerous smile.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though Zeala couldn't see it. He moved silently out of her view. In the tense silence that followed, Zeala could feel the weight of his presence behind her, a dangerous energy emanating from him.

A few seconds passed, and just as the tension felt unbearable, she heard the distinct sound of fabric falling to the ground as Maul undressed behind her. One piece after another, each fold and layer cascaded down, creating a subtle rustling that mingled with the steam rising from the water. The weighty shuffle of the robes hitting the floor resonated in the small room, a tangible echo of the transformation taking place. It was as if the sound itself carried a sense of power and authority. A breath of relief escaped her lips, knowing that Maul had decided to join her in the hot water, rather than drown her in it. For now.

Her heart beats a little faster as she feels the presence of this powerful, dangerous man so close to her. 

Maul was no stranger to being stared at for one reason or another, the red eyes, his horns, his tattoos, and he had long ago grown indifferent to it all, but Zeala’s eyes on him were different. She didn’t look at him in fear like so many did, her gaze was fascination, intrigue and desire. She drew her legs up closer to her chest to leave space for him, it wasn’t a large tub by any means but it could certainly accommodate two people who were comfortable with one another. Though his hulking frame might be pushing it, she swallowed and for the first time her cool collected demeanor shook slightly, Maul smirked. 

As he submerged himself in the bath, his muscular frame reacting to the heat, surprised at just how hot the water was but he was ultimately unbothered by it. Zeala couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity and desire mingling in the charged atmosphere between them. His extensive tattoos, swirling and rippling across his skin, added an air of mystery and danger to his already imposing presence.

Intrigued, “Quite extensive indeed.” She mutters in an appreciative way with a lingering look at the ink decorating his skin. "So, now that we stand on equal footing, where do we go from here?"

This is a rough draft of how Maul and Zeala meet and I've never gotten the story quite right! So, let me know what you think!

@maulfvckers

[x-atlas-x]

"This is all your fault." "I hope so." for the prompt game 🦭❤️

Well, my friend, I hope that this is the angst you were looking for! :) Thank you for the ask <33

Warning: Mentions of death, suicide, and slight hint at self harm. Please don’t read if you aren’t comfortable with those topics.

Yugi wasn’t expecting to return home to his and Atem’s apartment and finding that it was completely trashed.

For a brief moment, he thought someone might’ve broken in and robbed them. He was frozen by the front door, his hand still on the knob in case he needed to turn and run.

His heart sank when he heard sobbing, though, and then he closed the door fully, stepping away when he heard it click into place. He dropped his bag on the floor and didn’t bother changing shoes as he made his way through the living room.

The one responsible for the destruction sat in the middle of the kitchen, knees hugged to his chest and a knife sitting not too far away from him.

Much to Yugi’s relief, it was clean—but that wasn’t enough to soothe the other emotions bubbling up inside of him.

He cleared his throat, “Atem.”

Atem’s head snapped up, eyes wide as they took in the sight of Yugi standing in front of him. He quickly leapt to his feet and gulped, “Yugi, I’m—“

“What? You’re sorry?” Yugi interrupted, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You always say that, and you know what that means? This is all your fault.”

In a matter of seconds, Atem’s fearful expression morphed into one of pure anger. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Gods, I hope so. Maybe it’ll finally give me an excuse to leave this fucking place.”

“Please, don’t do this,” Yugi groaned, trudging over and throwing the knife in the sink. “Not today.”

“Why not today?” Atem leaned into Yugi’s line of vision. “Are you finally getting sick of this? Are you tired of dealing with me?”

“Atem—“

“You are,” Atem forced out a laugh and shook his head as he turned away. “I knew it! I knew everyone would get annoyed with me at some point! But, nobody would listen! Nobody ever fucking listens!”

Yugi wanted to punch himself for saying that, but he was tired—not of Atem, but of work. The work was neverending and he hated coming home to Atem, who was going through so much shit that he didn’t understand. He couldn’t even begin to understand why the Gods would torment his mind in such a way.

Why bring him back if only to let him suffer more?

Yugi was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Atem wandering out of the kitchen. He quickly trailed behind him, worried as to what he might do next.

“I mean, honestly, what’s my reason for being alive? I’m a burden to all of you and I contribute nothing except despair, and sadness, and cause each of you stress,” Atem rambled as he entered their shared bedroom. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back…”

“Atem, please,” Yugi begged, pausing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that—“

Atem cast a glare at him, “Right then? When were you going to say it, then? You were clearly thinking it, so it was going to slip at one point or another,” He huffed and ripped open one of the drawers to their dresser, “You just didn’t want to hurt my feelings because I’m such a fucking charity case that you have to take care of.”

Yugi didn’t know what to say anymore. What was the right thing? Was there a right thing? What words wouldn’t set Atem off? Was there anything that would calm him down, or fix what he said before?

“I need to end this… I need to put an end to all of this,” Atem said, bordering on the risk of hyperventilating as his breathing grew erratic and unsteady. “I can’t stand this anymore, I can’t fucking stand this! I can’t do it, I can’t do anything right, I’m fucking awful and—and…”

Tears blurred his vision as he watched Atem tear clothes out of their dresser. He was frantic and his lips continued moving, his endless stammering never coming to an end. It became more slurred and practically gibberish as he started crying again.

“I’m useless. I’m a fucking mistake,” Atem choked out. “Why am I alive?” He stopped and looked at Yugi, whispering, “Why am I alive?”

For once, Yugi had no good answer other than: “I don’t know.”

And it hurt both of them, cutting them deeper than any blade ever would.

Yugi’s heart ached as he watched what little bit of hope was drained from him. A flip had been switched and the tears suddenly stopped streaming down his cheeks. Atem blinked rapidly as the last few escaped, but no more came after that.

He glanced around at their bedroom that had been spared from most of his havoc, save the dresser that he had just started on. He swallowed thickly, his gaze drifting to the ground.

Yugi was supposed to be his saving grace; the light that guided him through the darkness that surrounded and trapped him. He was meant to illuminate his path and bring Atem happiness that he deserved.

How had he failed so terribly?

The final piece of the puzzle was snapped out of place when Atem brushed past him.

Yugi didn’t follow. He didn’t react or turn when he heard the front door slam.

This was what they deserved; Yugi alone in retribution and Atem forever in distress.

As Yugi dropped to his knees and let out a scream that would surely earn him a noise complaint, he came to one last painful conclusion.

Atem had given Yugi his own penalty game to solve.

(Prompts)

[lucidreamer-uwu]

heyhey!! Just wanna say you're really talented!! Also! can i request like a friends to lovers fic with leviathan or maybe belphie? if this is too much feel free to ignore, and have a great day ❤️

(Ps. can i be ☁️ anon?)

Final Boss Level with Leviathan

“MC STOP DYING ON ME!” Levi screams through laughs as he tries his best to reach your location in the game you were playing so that he could revive you.

Lucifer wasn’t home that night and wouldn’t be until morning. That meant that he wasn’t there to tell you off for staying up too late with your otaku best friend. That also meant that you were going to spend it, savor it, staying up all night.

“Levi!! HELP!” You scream, laughs bursting out of the both of you when you helplessly try to retreat as the enemy chases you down. “WAIT! Don’t die yet!” He echoes your laughter.

The night carried on with the two of you playing games, trying on different cosplays, and watching anime together. But when you settled down to read a manga side by side in his bathtub of a bed, that’s when things got serious.

You were reading one of the volumes of “Vegetables Basket” and stumbled upon an argument.

“This guy’s such a tsundere! I wish he would just tell her how he really feels” You’d complain to him, but he’d defend the character. “W-well that’s only because he thinks the girl’s super cool and that makes him nervous about telling her you know-!” He protests. Nevertheless, you both continue to read side by side.

Internally sighing, you try another attempt to send him a hint by commenting once more. “Don’t you think you should tell someone how you feel if you like them? It’s only fair, you know” You pout right at him, making it more obvious. Surely he gets it now right?

Why won’t he just tell me? You thought.

You knew that he was crushing on you, you’ve heard him talk in his sleep before. You were so happy when you found out that he felt the same way you did, but you wanted him to tell you right to your face. Otherwise, how could you ever know for sure?

He did know what you were talking about because he was aware that you knew. He wasn’t asleep when he confessed to you his feelings, he knew you were awake too, but the thought of acknowledging it short circuits his brain.

“Y-yeah, but still-!” he says lamely in reply, slightly blushing at you. You did nothing but frown at him, unamused. He’s really done it now.

You get up from bed and leave his room, telling him that you’d be back with some water for the both of you. He didn’t get the chance to tell you that there was still water in his little supply box because you were already out the door.

As you walk the halls to the kitchen, you recall the time you had confessed your feelings to Levi. It was quite a time ago, and you were still waiting on him. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t force it out of him, but did you have to wait forever?

When you return to Levi’s room holding two glasses of water, you see that the third born was holding a game controller and sitting in front of a screen. He looks at you, blushing, and asks if you wanted to play Yourcraft with him. You weren’t really in the mood to, but he was a little too eager to play this time, that it was almost suspicious.

Meanwhile, back at the room, Levi was stunned and internally crying. What was he doing? He knew you liked him, all he had to do was return your feelings right to your face! Why can’t he do it? “Come on, Levi! Get it together!” He scolds himself, and turns to Henry. “How can I possibly do it, Henry? Confessing to them face to face is like, FINAL boss level IRL!"

A pause of silence passes by and the avatar of envy gives a determined nod at his goldfish. "You're right! I should do it! Wish me luck, Henry!"

Giving in, you take the extra controller he offered you after setting down the glasses.

For a while it was normal, but then you start to notice Levi constantly glancing over to Henry. He often did that when he was nervous. What was he nervous about?

While you were distracted and lost in your thoughts, Levi had started building something that seemed random, and it was messing with your own creation. “Hey, move over, this is my spot!” You giggle, trying to break all the blocks he was placing in your area. But he wouldn’t stop, nor did he listen to you. He just continued racing you to placing blocks over your own. So much that you couldn’t catch up. “I swear Levi, if you keep messing with me, I will explode a TNT right here and right now, you dork!” You threaten, in a much better mood now. “If I can’t have this spot, no one can!” You let out a war cry.

You were about to release the explosives just when Levi called it quits and asked for a peace treaty. You agree after a few cake offerings from him to you, but before he let you take down his creation, he asks you to view it from above. You thought he was being mega sus, but once you did as he asked you to, you couldn’t say a word.

“I… Like you a lot…” He whispers, sounding extremely cool as you read the lines of his creation over yours that spelled the words I ♡ u.

“I-I…” You stutter, feeling the heat overtake your whole face. You tried to make it seem like you weren’t a flustered mess right now by turning to him and saying something, but the moment you turned your head, you were surprised to find that Levi’s face was RIGHT THERE. Your lips connected, you were both embarrassed with eyes as large as plates.

When I Wake Up with Belphegor

As if the same sides of a magnet, the two of you both repel, distancing yourselves away from the other. “Th-that was my first kiss!” You exclaim, covering your mouth, mirroring him. “M-m-m-me too!” He stutters.

Your lips were close and well within kissing range. All he had to do was close the distance and all the bottled-up feelings he had for you would be out in the open. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time now. His brothers were nowhere in sight, you two were alone, and the atmosphere was just right. It was the perfect opportunity. It’s now or never, he thought, and sealed it with a tender kiss.

The vision of you faded and the feeling of your lips departed from his, leaving him cold and yearning for your touch.

He shifts in bed and opens his eyes, frowning when he realizes that it was yet just another dream. “This can’t keep happening” He growls to himself, feeling rather cranky.

It has been weeks since he started having dreams about confessing his feelings to you. Don’t get him wrong, he plans to do it in real life, he wasn’t a coward. He just couldn’t find the perfect moment to go through with it. All his previous attempts were ruined by his brothers interrupting. Especially Mammon.

You turn in your sleep, groaning as you did. Now you were facing him. He felt the urge to go back to sleep, but he much rather stare at you for a while since he was already up.

The way your face looked so peaceful as you lay there next to him was everything he could possibly ask for. How your gentle breathing calmed him into a sense of serenity was like none other. You gave him the peace that he thought he would never have gotten back after what had happened between you two.

He promised himself he wouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help but poke your cheek. The soft skin under his finger made him chuckle. “Cute…” He hums.

He continues to poke different parts of your face consistently, promising to stop after each time but failing to hold himself back. He ends up disturbing your slumber, causing you to awake.

“Belphie?” You’d groan in confusion while your eyes squint. He only smiles and caresses your face in his hand. “I couldn’t sleep” he offers as an unconvincing alibi to accidentally waking you up. “You couldn’t sleep?” you raise your eyebrow at him in disbelief, and he chuckles, moving in closer to take you in his arms.

You gladly snuggled up closer to the demon under the sheets that cover you both, reveling in his warmth. It was soothing, and having him near you was always comforting.

The two of you snuggled in bed gave you access to the beating of his heart. It hindered you from falling back to sleep for it was thumping so loudly and at a quick pace.

Meanwhile, Belphie was on cloud nine. The only thought that was going through his head was coming clean to you with his feelings. This was the perfect moment he has been waiting for.

“Belphie?” you call. “MC” he cuts you off and abruptly confesses. “I like you”.

It was as if your world had stopped. Your heart was beating as fast as his now, your hands were cold despite being sandwiched in between yourself and him, and your face could never have be hotter.

“W-what?” you ask just in case you didn’t hear him right. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this for so long now. But every single time that I try to, my idiot brothers get in the way” Belphie curses in frustration and you could tell that he was frowning over your head.

You could not believe what you were hearing. Belphie was telling you that he liked you. You’ve only ever been crushing on him since forever and now he was telling you that he felt the same! Since when? That didn’t matter now, all you really cared about was this moment you were sharing with the one you liked the most.

“I…” you stutter.

All of a sudden, the door to the attic opens and Mammon is instantly in between the two of you. You don’t even know HOW that happened.

For a moment it was silent, the atmosphere was tense, and a single movement could lead to catastrophic events.

“Mammon” Belphie speaks up, death seeping within his words.

“Yeah?” Mammon replies as if the situation wasn’t out of the ordinary.

You were afraid to move even an inch, and feared for Mammon’s life. You knew what was about to happen and braced yourself for the worst.

Belphie turns into his demon form, anger bubbling from within him, causing for the second born demon to head for the stairs out of the attic as he was chased down by your crush, waking everybody in the house up in the middle of the night.

Chaos was unleashed at the House of Lamentation that night, but when morning came, you managed to suppress Belphie’s anger towards his brother by confessing to him how you felt as well. He almost completely forgot about what had happened the previous night and happily gave you a deep and meaningful kiss right there and then in the middle of breakfast with everyone watching.

Surprise! I did both! Just a little special something for my very first emoji anon uwu ~

Thank you for the compliment btw, you're too kind 😔💕. I had lots of fun writing these so I hope you enjoy them! Hope to hear from you again ☁️ anon!

~ Em

[parkerlyn]

“there will always be another day” for the sage, if you feel like it? (thank you so much for sharing this fantastic story, i am in love with this world and with these characters!!)

Thank y'all so much for the prompts and the lovely words! I'm slowly getting there with being happy again with my writing haha, and your encouragement really means a lot ❤️And so glad you’re enjoying!

Written assuming post Chap 3, so a spoiler from the game hinted at!

There will always be another day

I will pretend that I have not already heard the question in your eyes

The tension between you is a comfortable one. An unspoken question that prowls behind you - not quite dangerous, but ever present.

You see it in the way the Sage’s hand pulls back just before your fingers touch. You hear it in the measured, polite sentences, in the straightening of their spine and the fluid, formal lift of their wrist as they show you through the Library. You try to ignore it in the nervous twist of the golden lines framing their eyes or the anxious turning of their rings.

Because the truth of it is, you don’t know the answer.

Or maybe it’s more that you think you know, but don’t want to be wrong. How could you take the chance when it might spell the end of these precious, simple, mortal moments? Why not push the answer out to another day?

What you want is to hear their voice pitch in excitement. To be at their side when an epiphany strikes and their pace quickens. To see every constellation in the sky reflected in dark hazel. To discover every secret corner, every dusty book marked only by the Sage’s fingerprints and to leave some evidence of your existence alongside them. 

You wonder if you could take one of the crystals used for the Echoes to capture your memories. 

Would the images stay as sharp as their shining edges?

Would a memory be enough?

You know the answer to that, at least, and it feels like swallowing stone.

They ask the question today when you struggle to pull out a scroll from its intricate, cylindrical container. A map of something or other that the Sage thinks will help.

Aged paper clings to the small space, digging its heels in as you try to wiggle it free to no avail. You sigh and slump your shoulders in the light of the sunset streaming through their office window, pulling your fingers back before resting them on the tube’s edge. It’d be easier to just rip the map out and piece it back together, “the importance of preservation” and “historical artifacts” be damned.

Quiet laughter bounces off the bookshelf near you, and you look to find the Sage distracted from their own task of note-taking.

The pout quickly forms on your lips.

“How badly do we need this map?”

“It’s absolutely crucial, actually,” they respond while they place their pen down and stand, every movement graceful and gentle.

“You’re sure?” you say with a quirked eyebrow. “Or are you just enjoying watching me struggle?”

A mischievous, demure smile brightens their face as they drag their fingertips around the papers and books on their desk and step toward you. Heat builds behind your ears as the smile turns softer and they kneel at your side, shadows draping across their arms.

But that fluttering feeling cools as you notice the too-wide space they leave between your bodies, golden robes and embroidery spilling over to bridge the gap. Knowing they’ll ask for the scroll from a detached distance, you hold it out to them with your fingers curled around the top and face turned away. 

There’s a too-long pause and a hesitant hand floating at their chest. You don’t have to meet their eyes to know the question coiling around the flecks of forest green and topaz.

Will you betray us?

You pretend not to hear the words thundering in your skull, focusing on keeping your arm still and your expression neutral. The too-long silence becomes unbearable until their whisper pushes it aside.

“Here,” they breathe out, reaching for the scroll and its offending container. “It…it comes out a bit easier if you-”

It turns out they’re not reaching for just the scroll at all.

Warmth ignites in the space between your fingers as they interlace theirs with yours, covering your hand and providing some support with their thumb pressed into the edge of your palm. You can’t help your head swiveling to the side to watch them, to ask a question of your own. But they keep their concentration on your hands and avoid your gaze.

A breeze draws your attention next, tentative and careful as it whispers across your cheek and dances in the minuscule gap between your hands. Shivers race over the soft skin at your wrist and up your forearm, a streak of summer wind that kisses your shoulder before it dives into the tube.

Finally, the scroll is set free, though you’d like to think it’s in no small part to your earlier efforts. Paper that seemed ready to crumble if you so much as looked at it too harshly now slides out toward the ceiling, unfurling in effortless waves as it escapes the confines of its container.

“I thought these were too fragile to use magic with?” you ask the Sage outloud, though any sort of concern for the map is the farthest thing from your mind. It drifts forward on the echo of your question and comes to rest on the long, wooden table at the side of the room.

The hushed wind ebbs away as their other hand pushes some of their braids back. “Don’t tell the other Sages? Or my Acolyte, he’d have a heart attack.”

They press an index finger to their lips over a subtle grin, and you try to memorize the way their eyes and their cheeks and their dimples and their laughter all come together to create such a perfect symphony.

You eventually chuckle in response, until both of you realize the heat is still resonating between your skin. 

Expecting them to snap their hand back, you brace yourself for the motion while you watch the tilt of their lips fade and their eyes widen. But instead, they hold for just a few moments more.

A second question falls into the empty space between you, and breathes into the hesitant brush of their fingers on your knuckles when they finally pull away.

Will you betray me?

No is the answer you hope another day will hold.

Never.