#and i wanted to give you a good response too!!

[werifesteriaaaa]

repost from my old blog :3

Gojo had always thought sex was the best thing in the world. Being with you made him even more convinced of his theory.

No one made him feel like you did. No one made him lose himself in such ecstasy. No one looked at him, touched him, and felt him as you did.

No one, but you.

Nothing was as satisfying to him as being inside you, feeling your wetness drip down his length, and your soft walls clutch and suck him in. You felt so good, too good, that he knew no one, or nothing, would ever be able to make him feel the same way again. Or better.

Until one night, Gojo couldn't sleep.

His dick had been hard for hours, throbbing insistently, and he'd tried to do everything he could to get it to go down. He tried jerking off to his favorite porno, and when that didn't work, he'd done push ups until his arms ached. Still, nothing helped.

It wasn't until you rolled onto him in your sleep, instinctively grinding yourself against his stiff cock, that he'd been able to find any sort of relief. The friction was sweet as he felt you moving your hips against him and his aching dick jumped from the sensation. With a groan, he'd held your hip, squeezing it, urging you to ride him like that until he spilled himself into his boxers like some sort of fucking teenager.

It didn't matter that you were both still fully dressed, and that you hadn't even woken up during the act. He wanted to do it again. And he did, this time losing control and doing more than just encouraging your unconscious movements.

Gojo woke you up by flipping you over so you were laying on your stomach. You whined and squirmed under him, too sleepy to move as he moved your clothes aside and slipped inside of you with one sharp thrust.

“F-Fucking shit,” he groaned in surprise, hissing at how good you felt wrapped around him. Wet, soft, tight, warm- You were perfect for him. You were always perfect for him.

You tried to look back at him, but his weight on your back pinned you down completely, not allowing you to move in the slightest. As you whined in confusion and discomfort, Gojo began to move inside of you, unable to hold back.

“Fuuuuck, fuck, fuck-” he growled as he filled you up in quick, deep strokes. He'd never felt anything so good in his life. “Y'feel s’fucking good, baby.”

The dirty talk mixed with the rough, slow rhythm of his movements pulled a surprised cry from you.

“S-Satoru?!”

“S'good, baby. You feel s’fucking good…” he repeated.

“Nn-ahh!”

You cried out when he gave another sharp thrust, shoving his cock deeper inside you than before. He was so big, so hard, so heavy and long that every time he thrusted inside of you, you felt like you might break.

But no matter how uncomfortable you were, how sore or how overwhelmed you felt, you didn't want it to stop.

You didn't want him to stop.

“Look at you. Taking me s’well,” he hummed in approval, gazing at where your bodies joined.

“More…” you begged as he stilled inside of you. “Please don't stop.”

“Not gonna,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he pushed himself even deeper into you. “I'll fill you up 'til you're so full of me you'll be leaking my cum for days. This pretty little pussy will never be the same after I'm done with you. But you don't care, do you? You don't give a fuck about anything except having me inside of you. Right?”

You whimpered as he buried his face into your neck, giving another slow thrust of his hips. He nuzzled into the spot behind your ear, smiling when he heard you gasp softly.

“Right?” he repeated, this time prompting a response.

“Y-Yes,” you agreed, feeling tears sting the backs of your eyes. “Only you. I only want you inside me, 'Toru. Only you."

Gojo smirked at your words, almost impressed by how needy you sounded.

“My baby girl. My good girl. So perfect for me.”

“F-Fuck! Feels s'good!”

You sobbed when he pressed his hand to your stomach, adding pressure and feeling himself through your skin. Your womb ached from the way he was pushing himself inside of you, pressing insistently against your cervix with each sharp thrust of his hips. But despite the pain, you loved it. You craved it. You needed more.

“Fill me up, please!” You cried out, practically choking on the thick fog of lust that hung over you both. “I-I need it! Need you! Please!”

Your pleas filled the room and spurred Gojo on more than any other sound you had ever made before. His hips pounded against you as he fucked you, driving his cock deeper inside you, harder inside you, faster inside you than he ever had before.

When he finally came, you could feel him emptying himself inside you, pumping his cum into you until your pussy was full and dripping with his essence. It dripped out of you in a hot stream down your thighs as you both tried to catch your breath.

He cradled you in his arms as you sobbed quietly, soothing you with gentle kisses and soft words.”Shhh... Easy, baby. You're alright,” he cooed as he pet your hair. “I've got you.”

It took a few minutes for you to calm down and come back to your senses. Once you had, Gojo lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bathroom, where he spent the next hour making sure every inch of you was cleaned up and tended to.

[chosok-amo]

HIS TIP?! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY TIP : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you just got your nails done, and geto is the one who paid for it. so as your way to appreciate his gesture you decided to get your nails color with the same color of his tip, which results in gojo's relentless jealousy.

warning. established relationship! satosugu, jealous gojo, lots of make-out sessions ( not really, i guess ), dick mentioned, gojo asks you if you like his dick more than geto's.

wc. | masterlist ( art © artist )

you step into the kitchen, feeling light and relaxed after your nail appointment. the faint scent of fresh polish lingers as you admire your nails, now perfectly done. as you walk further in, you spot geto and gojo sitting at the dining table, papers spread out in front of them, completely absorbed in their work.

with a smile tugging at your lips, you approach them. “hey, boys,” you greet warmly, your voice soft but enough to pull their attention away from the pile of documents in front of them.

geto looks up first, his tired eyes softening the moment they meet yours. “hey,” he says, a small smile forming on his lips. gojo follows shortly, pushing his glasses up as his signature grin appears. “look who's back, looking all fresh,” he teases, eyeing your nails.

geto moves his chair to the side, creating space for you to sit on his lap. with a light chuckle, you take the bait and settle on his thighs, his arms encircling your waist almost instantly, pulling you closer. gojo, not one to be outdone, takes a moment to admire your nails before leaning in to press a light kiss to your hand, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“so, what were you two up to?” you ask, your voice a soft murmur as you lean back against geto's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. gojo leans his forearms on the table, drumming his fingers against the wood. “just some reports and paperwork. nothing too exciting.”

geto hums in agreement, his fingertips gently tracing patterns on your hip. “it's just the usual stuff. but it's more interesting now that you're here.”

you let out a soft, exaggerated sigh, rolling your eyes. “boring,” you mutter, dragging out the word playfully. you lean your head back against geto's shoulder, a mischievous smile forming on your lips.

gojo chuckles at your response, his smirk widening in amusement. “oh, am i not entertaining enough for you?” geto smirks at your back talk, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he speaks up, his tone amused but laced with a hint of possessiveness. “watch it, sweetheart. we can make things interesting real quick.”

you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you glance between them. “sorry, sorry,” you say with a playful smile, resting your cheek on your palm as you lean your elbow against the table. “didn't mean to bruise your egos.”

gojo leans in, resting his chin on his hand, curiosity dancing in his eyes. “so, how was your day?” he asks, his voice light but genuinely interested. geto’s hand on your hip continues to trace slow circles, his voice soft as he adds, “yeah, anything interesting happen?”

you smile softly, leaning back against geto as you answer, “it was good. i had lunch with shoko and yuu, then went to get my nails done.” your voice is relaxed as you recall the day, feeling both of them listening intently.

gojo raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “did yuu take you home after that?” he asks, the question laced with a hint of something more, like he already knows the answer. you glance at him knowingly, chuckling lightly. “yeah, he did,” you admit, seeing the small exchange of glances between gojo and geto. “figured that was your request to him, huh?” you add, giving them a teasing look.

gojo gives you a nonchalant shrug in response, his smile widening into a cheeky grin. “might’ve mentioned it, yeah.”

geto’s grip on your hips tightens just slightly, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “we just wanted to make sure you made it home safe.” his breath tickles your skin, his lips brushing against your earlobe. “can’t have our sweetheart stranded, can we?”

you scoff softly, turning your head to glance at geto with a raised eyebrow. “stranded?” you repeat, your tone playful yet teasing before you break into a warm smile, knowing well that they just want to take care of you and make sure you are safe.

geto’s smirks, his hand on your hip squeezing you lovingly. “you know what i mean,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness. gojo watches the two of you with a knowing smile, his gaze flickering between you and geto before he speaks up with a hint of humor. “can’t have our girl wandering off without supervision, someone might snag you from us.”

you hum softly, an amused smile tugging at your lips as you settle comfortably against geto’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. “alright, boys, thank you,” you murmur, glancing at gojo with a playful glint in your eyes.

you let out a contented sigh, a warm smile on your face as the cozy, comforting atmosphere wraps around the three of you. moments like this—where everything is light, easy, and filled with unspoken love—are the ones you treasure most.

geto’s hand rubs soothing circles on your hip, his chin resting on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “anytime, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice as warm as a summer breeze.

gojo’s eyes soften, his smile gentle as he watches you lean back against geto. “we’ll always be there for you,” he murmurs, his words filled with a protective determination. you sit in a comforting silence, the three of you basking in each other’s presence, safe in the knowledge that you’re taken care of and loved.

geto shifts slightly, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your hip as he chuckles softly near your ear. “so,” he begins, his tone teasing but curious, “did you really use your own money for those nails?”

his voice holds a playful edge, but there's that subtle hint of possessiveness again, as if he wants to make sure you're being well taken care of.

you can feel the smirk on his lips against your shoulder as he waits for your answer, clearly enjoying the gentle interrogation. gojo raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued as he watches, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “or did you let someone else treat you?” he adds, his voice light but teasing, like he’s in on the joke.

you smirk, feeling their anticipation as they wait for your answer. “actually, yes,” you say with a playful glint in your eyes. “someone did treat me.”

both geto and gojo's expressions shift slightly—geto’s grip tightening ever so slightly on your hip, while gojo leans forward with mild curiosity. “his name?” you pause for effect, your smile widening. “geto suguru.” you lean closer to give the man kiss on the cheek.

you chuckle softly, tilting your head to look up at geto. “thanks for forcing me to use your card, by the way,” you tease, a playful edge to your voice.

geto’s lips curl into a smirk, his arms tightening around you just a bit more. “well, i had to make sure you got what you wanted,” he says, his tone light but with a hint of satisfaction. “someone's got to take care of you.” gojo lets out an amused snort, his grin widening as he watches the exchange. “how generous of you,” he teases, clearly enjoying the banter between you and geto.

geto chuckles, his hand on your hip squeezing gently. “anything for our princess,” he says, his voice warm but with a hint of possessiveness. he nuzzles his face against your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs, “can't have you paying for anything when we're around.”

you smile softly at geto’s affectionate gesture, feeling his breath warm against your skin. With a playful glint in your eye, you turn slightly to face him, leaning in close. “that's actually why i have something special to tell you,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing.

geto’s eyes sparkle with curiosity as he pulls back slightly to look at you, his expression a mix of anticipation and warmth. "oh? do tell,” he replies, his tone inviting and attentive. gojo perks up, his eyebrows lifting slightly at your announcement. he leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his hand, clearly intrigued and eager to hear what you have to say.

geto’s gaze is fixed on you, his eyes softening as he focuses his full attention on you. he gently pushes his chair back, turning you to sit sideways on his lap so he can look you straight in the face, his hand never leaving your hip.

“well? don’t keep us in suspense,” he says, a light smirk playing around the corners of his lips. you look between geto and gojo, enjoying their anticipation. with a teasing grin, you ask geto, “do you remember when i asked you to send me a dick pic before my appointment?”

geto looks slightly surprised at the direction the conversation is taking, but his initial shock morphs into an amused smirk. “i do,” he replies, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your hip, his grip firm.

you smile playfully, leaning in slightly and teasing, “i actually chose this nail polish color because it matches the shade of your tip.”geto’s smirk widens, his eyes darkened slightly at your words. “is that so?” he says, his voice a low murmur. he slides his hand up your hip, fingers tracing up along the curve of your waist.

gojo’s expression shift, a scowl crossing his face as he watches the interaction. his usual grin fades slightly, replaced by a hint of jealousy. “you’re really getting into this, aren’t you?” he says, his tone is light but edged with a touch of possessiveness.

you ignore gojo's comment, focusing instead on geto's deepening gaze and the way his fingers trace up your waist. With a warm smile, you wrap your arm around geto, pulling him closer. you lean in and press a gentle peck to his lips, savoring the closeness. “just making sure you know how much i appreciate you,” you murmur softly, your tone affectionate.

gojo watches the interaction with a mix of frustration and fascination, but you maintain your attention on geto, enjoying the intimacy and warmth of the moment. geto smiles against your lips, his hand on your hip shifting to rest on the small of your back, his grip firm but gentle. his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

he leans in to deepen the kiss, his lips claiming yours in a soft but possessive manner, his tongue gently slipping into your mouth. he lets out a pleased sigh into the kiss, clearly enjoying the moment.

gojo scowls at the affectionate display, his eyes narrowing as he watches the two of you. he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. after a few moments of indulging in the kiss, geto reluctantly pulls back, his hand still on the small of your back. he gazes at you with an affectionate smile, his eyes shining with warmth.

“so, you really picked this nail polish to match me?’ he asks, his voice a soft murmur as he glances down at your nails. you nod with a playful smile, your eyes sparkling as you look up at geto. “uh-huh,” you reply, your voice soft and teasing. “i chose this color to match you because you paid for my nails. thought it would be a fun little touch. i like the color too, more like i like your dick,” you playfully said, voice drowning with sultry.

gojo lets out a scoff at your comment, rolling his eyes in mild annoyance. geto’s grin widens as he hears your words, a mix of amusement and heat flashing in his eyes. he pulls you closer, his hand on your back sliding down to rest on the curve of your hip.

“is that so?” he says, his voice low and filled with a subtle hint of possessiveness. his gaze drops to your nails, his eyes studying the color for a moment before returning to your face.

you meet geto’s gaze with a playful glint in your eyes and a teasing smile. “it is so,” you reply, your tone light but filled with affection. you let your fingers brush gently against his cheek, enjoying the closeness.

geto leaving a peck on your lips once again, his lips linger near yours, his breath warm and his gaze fixed on you. he murmurs affectionately, his voice slightly huskier than before, “you’re such a sweet thing, you know that?” gojo watches the affectionate display with a scowl, but there's a hint of envy in his expression. he scoffs softly again, shifting in his chair as if to draw your attention.

geto, however, is completely absorbed in you, his gaze locked on yours as he whispers against your lips. his hand on your hip gently squeezes you, his fingers tracing along the line where your shirt meets your jeans.

“the sweetest,” he repeats, his voice low and filled with tenderness. he leans in closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “and you’re such a bad influence,” he says, his voice a low murmur, thick with affection and a hint of playful annoyance. he presses another gentle kiss to your mouth, lingering there for a moment.

you chuckle softly, your breath mingling with geto's as you kiss him back with an open-mouthed kiss, your hand gently cupping his cheek. you press your forehead against his, feeling the warmth of his skin.

“yeah?” you murmur between kisses, your voice teasing but affectionate. geto's eyes flutter open briefly, a smile playing on his lips as he gazes at you. “yeah,” he whispers back, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness. he deepens the kiss, his fingers continuing to trace the line where your shirt meets your jeans, enjoying the closeness and the playful exchange.

gojo can't help but watch the intimate moment between you and geto, his eyes narrowing slightly as a mix of envy and affection flashes across his face. he leans back in his chair, silently observing the way geto's fingers trace along your waist, the way you cup his face.

geto's hand slides around to the small of your back, pulling you closer still, his kiss becoming deeper, more possessive, his tongue slipping into your mouth. he moans against your lips, his breath coming a little faster.

gojo lets out a frustrated scoff as he watches geto's possessive display, but he can't deny the pang of jealousy that he feels. he shifts in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance.

geto's mouth moves down to your neck, his lips tracing along the line of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. his breath is hot, his fingers gripping you tighter, his body pressing closer. gojo leans forward, his eyes fixated on the two of you, his frustration building. his jaw tightens slightly, his expression hardening as he watches geto's lips caressing your skin.

geto's lips pause near your ear, his voice a whisper filled with desire and possessiveness. “you're mine,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. he gently bites down on the sensitive spot where your shoulder meets your neck, his tongue soothing the spot immediately after.

gojo's eyes darkened, watching geto's mouth on your neck, the way he seemed so possessive, claiming you as his own. he shifted in his chair again, his fingers continuing to drum on the table, his jaw clenching faintly.

he scoffs softly, his jealousy and frustration palpable. “can it out already, can you?” he grunt in annoyance. geto pauses at gojo's annoyed remark, his lips reluctantly pulling away from your neck. he turns his head to glance at gojo, his gaze a mixture of annoyance and possessiveness.

“jealous much?” he responds, his voice cool and calm, but with an edge of challenge.

he looks back at you, his eyes traveling down to your neck and the spot he had just been kissing. a flicker of pride crosses his face as he notes the slight mark his teeth left on your skin. you clear your throat and let out a sheepish laugh, feeling a bit embarrassed by the situation (which is a lie). you glance over at gojo, offering a smirk, clearly you enjoy the moment with geto which make the man more upset than he already is, especially that crush cherry color on your cheeks.

“sorry, baby,” you say, your tone is light with no sincerity. “i got a bit carried away.”

gojo scowls at your words, his annoyance flaring as he hears the lack of remorse in your tone. his eyes flick between you and geto, his expression growing more and more frustrated. geto, on the other hand, smirks at your response, his hand on the small of your back rubbing circles in a self-satisfied manner. he pulls you even closer, his body pressing against yours.

“don't worry, princess,” he says, his voice is smooth and confident. “there's no need to apologize for enjoying yourself.” gojo's scowl deepens as geto's hand rubs circles on your back, the pet name adding fuel to his jealousy. he leans forward on the table, his gaze flickering between you and geto.

“yeah, don't apologize for enjoying yourself,” he mutters, his tone snarky, “not like you're neglecting anyone here.”

you chuckle softly at gojo’s snarky comment, finding his jealousy both amusing and endearing. you give geto a warm smile as you slide into the chair next to him, your body still close but giving gojo a bit of space. “don’t worry, baby,” you say with a playful glint in your eyes. “i’m just spreading the love around. no one’s being neglected here.”

uou turn your attention back to geto, giving him a teasing look. “and as for you,” you add, leaning in slightly, “thanks for the fun. i always appreciate your confidence.”

geto’s smirk widens, his hand still resting on your back, and he leans in closer to kiss your cheek, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. gojo grumbles at your words, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression one of mild annoyance and jealousy. he watches as you shift your attention back to geto, his eyes narrowing slightly.

geto, on the other hand, grins at your playful comment, his hand gripping your back a little tighter. he leans in to give your cheek a soft kiss, his lips lingering on your skin for a moment, his gaze fixed on gojo the entire time.

“always a pleasure, princess,” he says, his voice warm and filled with affection. gojo's scowl deepens as he watches you and geto, his jealousy simmering just beneath the surface. he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly displeased, even if he’s trying to hide it. you and geto both know how he can get—he’s always been the jealous type, even over the smallest things.

you can feel gojo’s gaze on you, practically burning with envy. deciding to tease him a little, you pretend to be oblivious to his jealousy, glancing at geto with a playful smile. “well, suguru did pay for my nails this time, so it only made sense to match his color.”

gojo lets out an exaggerated huff, his fingers tapping against the table impatiently. “it should’ve been me,” he mutters under his breath. “i should’ve paid for your nails. and you should’ve picked my color.”

geto chuckles, clearly amused by gojo's jealousy and possessiveness. he gives you a knowing look, his hand on your back rubbing soothing circles.

“again, jealous, satoru?” he asks, his voice smooth and playful. gojo's scowl deepens as he hears geto's question, his eyes narrowing at the other man.

“damn right i am,” he mutters under his breath. “i should be the one you're matching. not him.“ you stifle a laugh at his possessive grumbling, looking at him with mock confusion. “baby, i didn't know you wanted to pay. you never said anything.”

his eyes narrow slightly, but there's a hint of vulnerability beneath his frustration. “what do you mean i never said anything? i shouldn’t have to say anything. you know I like doing things for you first and you know i always pay for you.”

geto can't help but chuckle again at gojo's response, enjoying the exchange between you and him. he rests his chin on his hand, his eyes flickering between you and gojo.

you feign innocence, tilting your head slightly as you look at gojo. “well, honey, you should have said something. maybe i would have matched your color if you had offered,” you say, your tone soft and amused.

gojo's irritation is evident in his expression, but there's a hint of hurt in his eyes. “i shouldn't have to offer. you should have picked my color without me asking," he grumbles, his fingers tapping against the table in an impatient rhythm. “i do so much for you, princess. you should just know that i want to do this sort of thing for you.”

geto watches the exchange between you and gojo, his expression neutral but his eyes flickering with a hint of interest. his hand on your back continues to rub gentle circles, a subtle gesture of possession.

you continue to feign innocence, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. “well, sweetheart,” you say, your voice soft and sweet, “maybe you should have made it more obvious that you wanted me to match you.”

gojo's scowl deepens at your response, his irritation growing. he leans forward in his chair, his eyes locking on you.

“more obvious?” he repeats, his voice filled with frustration. “how much more obvious can i get? i do so much for you. i take you on dates, i buy you gifts, i spend time with you. i feel like i’m practically screaming at you that i want to pay for you.”

geto's eyes flicker between you and gojo, silently watching the exchange, his eyes sharp and observant. he continues to rub circles on your back, his hand staying possessively in place.

you maintain your innocent facade, your small smile growing slightly wider. “maybe you should try actually screaming it then,” you suggest, your tone light and playful. gojo's jaw tightens, his patience wearing thin. he lets out an exasperated sigh, his fingers drumming against the table.

“maybe i should,” he mutters under his breath. “it’s not like i haven’t been pretty damn upfront about how i feel, princess. i’ve said i want to take care of you. i’ve told you how much you mean to me. how much more obvious can i get?”

you can’t help but chuckle at gojo’s frustrated outburst. his jealousy, while endearing, always comes with a touch of drama. standing up from your seat. “sorry, baby,” you say with playful sincerity, your voice light as you step away from the table. “i didn’t mean to make you feel that way. you know you’re important to me.”

you stretch your arms and look at both gojo and geto with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “but for now, i’m going to take a shower.” you give them a little wink before turning toward your bedroom, leaving both of them to stew in their own thoughts for a moment.

both gojo and geto watch you get up from your seat, their eyes following you as you stride towards your bedroom. gojo's irritation melts slightly as he watches you go, his gaze fixated on the sway of your hips. he lets out a deep sigh, his fingers tapping against the table again.

geto's eyes linger on your figure, his hand still rubbing circles on the empty space where you had been sitting only moments ago. his expression is calm, but his gaze is filled with a mixture of desire and possessiveness.

as you disappear into the bedroom and close the door, gojo and geto are left alone at the table. for a few moments, they sit in silence, the only sound in the room being the soft hum of the air conditioning.

gojo breaks the silence, his voice low and frustrated. “she’s driving me crazy.”

inside your bedroom, as you stand in front of the mirror, brushing your hair and removing your jewelry, you hear the soft creak of the wooden door closing. you glance at the reflection, catching sight of gojo sitting on the edge of the bed, arms crossed and his gaze deliberately avoiding yours. he’s still sulking, his body language making it painfully clear that he wants you to know just how upset he is.

a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you turn to face him fully. his childish pouting is endearing, and you can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head at how serious he’s trying to be.

“you're still upset, huh?” you tease softly, stepping closer to him. gojo’s stubborn silence is answer enough, his jaw set in a tight line, though you can see the faintest hint of a pout forming.

gojo can feel his irritation bubbling beneath the surface as you approach him, his arms still crossed over his chest. he refuses to look at you, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched tight. he knows he's being childish, but he can't help it.

he remains silent, his shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath. he can feel your eyes on him, your soft chuckle breaking the heavy silence in the room. he grumbles under his breath, his resolve slipping.

you stand in front of gojo, watching the way his irritation bubbles beneath the surface. he's stubborn, jaw clenched and eyes glued to the floor. a small sigh escapes you as you reach out, gently stroking his arms up and down, feeling the tension in his muscles. his resistance is almost adorable, but you know exactly how to handle him when he's like this.

wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer, your touch soft and coaxing. you tilt your head, trying to meet his eyes, but he only looks further away, his determination to stay upset clear in every movement.

“come on, baby,” you murmur, your voice soft and teasing. “are you really going to keep ignoring me, or what?“ you lean in a little closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you speak, hoping to break down the last bit of his sulking.

gojo tries to resist your attempts at breaking down his sulking, but the feeling of your arms around his neck and the sound of your voice against his ear start to chip away at his resolve. he lets out a frustrated huff, his shoulders sagging slightly.

he hesitates for a few more moments, fighting the urge to give in to your coaxing. but eventually, he gives up, his arms slowly uncrossing and settling on your waist. his gaze remains fixed on the floor, still stubbornly avoiding your eyes.

you smile softly as you feel gojo's arms finally settle on your waist, his stubborn facade starting to crack. without saying a word, you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment before pulling back. your fingers trail up to brush lightly against his undercut, feeling the slight roughness beneath your fingertips.

he’s still looking away, but you can sense his resolve weakening, the frustration slowly fading. “there you are,” you whisper, your thumb gently caressing the side of his face. “i missed you already.” you tilt your head, trying to catch his gaze, your smile warm and affectionate as you wait for him to finally meet your eyes.

gojo can feel his resolve crumbling with each gentle touch and caress from you. your soft whisper and the warmth in your voice only make it harder for him to keep up his sulky act.

he lets out a quiet breath, his gaze flickering towards yours for a brief moment before quickly looking away again. his jaw is still clenched, the last remnants of his annoyance still lingering. but the longer you hold him, the more it fades away, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and affection.

“ugh, stop it,” he mutters under his breath, his voice gruff but lacking any real heat.

you chuckle softly at his gruff response, leaning in a little closer as you stroke his undercut. “i'm sorry, baby,” you say gently, your voice soft and sincere. “i didn’t realize it was such a big deal to you.” you give him a small, apologetic smile, your thumb brushing along his cheek. “i just wanted to do something nice for suguru since he paid for my nails, that’s all.“

you pause for a moment, letting your words sink in, hoping he understands. “it doesn’t mean i don’t appreciate you. you know i do, right?” you tilt your head slightly, trying to meet his eyes again, your arms still wrapped around his neck, holding him close.

his shoulders sag slightly as you apologize, his face softening as he absorbs your words. he knows he's being ridiculous, being jealous over something so small. he lets out a deep breath, his resistance crumbling further. he finally meets your gaze, his expression a mixture of annoyance and affection.

“i know,” he sighs, his fingers gripping your hips a little tighter. “i just...” he hesitates for a moment, his jaw clenching again. “i hate the idea of you matching anything with anyone other than me, princess.”

you smile softly, your hand moving from his cheek to gently run through his hair. “baby, i always match almost everything with you,” you reassure him, your tone warm and affectionate. “more than i do with suguru, trust me.”

you lean in a little closer, your forehead resting against his. “but sometimes, it's nice to do things for him too, you know? he takes care of me just like you do. you both mean so much to me.” your fingers trail gently along his undercut again, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “you’ll always come first, though.”

gojo lets out another sigh, the last remnants of his stubborn resistance melting away at your words. he leans into your touch, his body relaxing under your gentle caresses. he knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help the possessive feeling that surges within him whenever he sees you with anyone else.

“i know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing soft circles on your hips. “i know you care about us both. and i get that you want to do nice things for him. i just... i don’t like sharing you, princess.”

you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you brush a strand of hair away from gojo’s face. “isn’t it a little too late to be worrying about sharing, baby?” you tease gently, your lips curling into a playful smile.

you lean back slightly, keeping your arms around his neck. “besides, it’s not fair if i’m always doing things with you, and the moment i do something with suguru, you throw a fit.” your tone is light and teasing, but there’s an undertone of honesty in your words.

“baby, you’re not the only one who wants to take care of me. suguru does too, and i want to show him the same love and attention i show you.” you tilt your head, your eyes soft. “don’t you think that’s fair?”

gojo let out another huff, his face scrunching into a slight pout. he knows you have a point, but he’s still not entirely pleased with the situation. sharing you with geto is already a challenge for him, and now you’re giving him even more reasons to be jealous.

“i guess,” he grumbles, his fingers gripping your hips a little tighter. “i just can’t help it, princess. when i see you with him, doing things we usually do together, it makes me want to... well...” he trails off, his eyes flickering to the side.

gojo’s pout deepens as he grumbles, noticing the small gap between the two of you. with a frustrated sigh, he tugs you closer by your waist, his grip firm but affectionate.

“why are you standing so far away?” he mutters, pulling you flush against him as if that would somehow chase away the jealousy lingering in his chest. he buries his face against your chest, letting out another low grumble. “i don’t like it when you’re not close to me,” he admits, his voice muffled but laced with affection.

you chuckle as gojo pulls you closer, his arms encircling you possessively. his possessive and needy behavior is both endearing and frustrating at times, but you know it’s just his way of showing how much he cares.

as he buries his face against your chest, you instinctively reach up to run your fingers through his soft, white hair, your touch gentle and soothing. “i’m not that far away, sweetheart,” you tease lightly, your other hand rubbing circles on his back.

you gently cup his face in your hands, guiding him to look at you. “baby, suguru deserves the same attention and treatment as you do,” you say softly but firmly. “he’s important to me too, and just like you, he wants to show me how much he cares.”

you lean in a bit closer, your gaze steady and sincere. “i love both of you and want to make sure you both feel appreciated and cared for. it's not about sharing; it's about balancing and showing the same love to everyone who means so much to me.”

gojo’s eyes meet yours as you cup his face in your hands, your words sinking in. he knows deep down that you’re right, that geto deserves just as much attention and affection as he does. but it’s still hard for him to shake off that possessive and jealous feeling. he huffs again, his grip on your hips tightening slightly.

“i know,” he mutters, his voice low. “i just don’t like sharing you, princess. it feels like i’m losing something when you give bits of yourself to someone else.” you chuckle softly, shaking your head with a playful smile. “you're such a drama queen, satoru,“ you tease gently before leaning down to kiss him.

your lips meet his in an open-mouthed kiss, your hands sliding up to his neck to pull him closer. the kiss is deep and warm, your affection clear in every gentle brush of your lips and touch. you let yourself get lost in the moment, aiming to reassure him of your love and commitment, no matter how dramatic he might be feeling.

gojo grumbles as you tease him, but his grumbles quickly melt away as your lips meet his. his arms instinctively envelope your waist, pulling you in as close to him as physically possible.

the kiss is hungry and possessive, the touch of your lips and tongue igniting a fire within the both of you. he responds with equal fervor, his mouth moving against yours with a mixture of need and passion.

he forgets about the jealousy and pettiness for a moment, losing himself entirely in your touch. as the kiss deepens, gojo's hands begin to wander, his touch becoming more possessive and needy. they trail up your sides, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your top, his touch hot against your skin.

he pulls back for a moment, but only to move his attention to your jaw and neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips along your sensitive flesh. with each kiss and nibble, gojo's need for you becomes more evident, his touch both tender and urgent as he holds you close against him. his lips and tongue continue their journey down your neck, his hands now roaming across your shoulders and back.

he's slowly losing himself in the moment, his jealousy and possessiveness taking a backseat to his overwhelming desire for you.

you let out a soft murmur, “satoru,” almost breathlessly. your eyes fluttering closed as you pull his silver locks gently. your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer, deepening the kiss. every touch, every nibble on your neck only intensities the connection between you, allowing you both to lose yourselves in the shared moment of intimacy and affection.

at the sound of his name, gojo groans against your skin, his lips and teeth still working their way along your neck and collarbone. his hands move lower, slipping beneath your top and caressing your bare skin.

he can feel your need, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. he responds to your silent request, his body molding against yours, his lips moving back up to claim yours in a deep, heated kiss.

as the intensity of the kiss builds, gojo starts to steer you backwards, guiding you towards the bed. his hands roam your body, exploring every inch of you as he continues to kiss you with a burning desire.

with a swift movement, he lifts you up into his arms and lays you down on the bed, his body covering you as he pins you beneath him, drawing a gasp from the back of your throat with sudden movement. his knee wedges between your legs, spreading them slightly as he presses closer against you.

gojo's actions are fluid and confident, his hands and mouth working in unison to send waves of heat cascading through your body. he pins you beneath him, his body pressing against yours, his knee nudging your legs apart.

he can feel your gasp against his lips, his fingers gripping your hips and pulling you even closer against him. he breaks away from the kiss, his lips moving to your ear, peppering it with kisses and soft nibbles. his voice is low, almost a growl.

“you drive me crazy, princess,“ he whispers, his voice deep and filled with desire.

you gently pull him away, your eyes searching his face with a hint of concern. you run your fingers through his hair, your voice soft and soothing. “are you still mad?” you ask, your tone filled with warmth and understanding. you want to make sure that his feelings are addressed before things continue, showing him that you care about his emotions as much as the passion between you.

gojo's frustration and jealousy melt away under your gentle touch and concerned gaze. he leans into your hand as you run your fingers through his hair, the simple, soothing gesture calming his restless thoughts.

he sighs, his expression softening as he looks down at you beneath him. he's still annoyed, but the intensity of his feelings seems to have simmered down. “no,” he admits, his voice a little gruff. "i'm not mad anymore. just... jealous."

you poke his cheek playfully, a teasing smile on your lips. “don't,” you say, your voice light and comforting. “we just had a hot make-out session. it doesn’t change how much i care about you.” you lean in to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, reassuring him with your warmth and affection.

gojo can't help but chuckle at your playful poke and light tone. your words and the gentle kiss on his cheek only serve to soothe his jealous feelings further. he knows deep down that his jealousy is a little irrational, but he can't help the possessive part of him that wants you all to himself.

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice softer now. “i know,” he mumbles, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your hips. “i just... i can't help it, princess. i just want you all to myself, all the time.”

you gently push him onto the bed, a playful glint in your eyes as you crawl down from the bed. you stand next to him, looking down with a teasing smile. “too bad,” you say with a light chuckle, “you're going to have to bear it for the rest of your life. neither suguru nor i are going anywhere.” you lean down to give him a reassuring kiss, emphasizing your words with affection.

as you push him onto the bed and stand over him, gojo can't help but let out a small grumble, even though he knows you're just teasing him. he props himself up on his elbows, his gaze on you, a mixture of jealousy and adoration in his eyes.

he lets out a huff as you tease him with your words, but his expression softens when you lean down to give him a kiss, the reassurance clear in your gesture. “you're lucky i love you,” he mutters under his breath, his tone jokingly annoyed.

you give his thigh a gentle pat, your smile warm and reassuring. “you should go back to work,” you say, your voice playful but with a hint of sincerity. “i’m going to take a shower, and then i’ll make you and suguru tea and dinner. your favorite, of course.”

you lean down for one last quick kiss, “sounds good, my love?”

gojo's expression softens at the combination of your warm smile and gentle touch. he sighs, sitting up on the bed and nodding slightly as you suggest he return to work. he knows you're right, that he needs to get back to his responsibilities, even though he'd rather stay in the moment with you.

he accepts your last quick kiss, his hand slipping to the back of your head, his touch possessive but affectionate.

“sounds good, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of resignation and fondness. as you’re about to walk to the bathroom, gojo's hand wraps around your wrist, gently pulling you back to stand between his legs. he gazes up at you, his blue eyes holding a mix of playful jealousy and curiosity.

“you like suguru's dick, huh?“ he asks, his voice teasing yet laced with a hint of insecurity. “what about mine? do you like my dick too?” his fingers trail up your wrist, his grip light but enough to keep you close. he's seeking reassurance, the possessive part of him craving your validation.

gojo's grip on your wrist prevents you from moving too far away. his eyes lock on yours, the mixture of jealousy and curiosity evident in their depths. when he speaks, his voice is playful, yet there's an undertone of insecurity and seeking validation.

at his question, a small flush creeps onto your cheeks, your body moving slightly closer to him. you reach down, gently running your fingers through his silvery hair. “yes,” you reply softly, looking at him. “i do like your dick too, baby.”

gojo smirks in response, his grip on your wrist relaxing as he leans back slightly, his eyes still fixed on yours. he can see the flush on your cheeks, the way your body moves closer to his, and he knows he's gotten what he wanted— reassurance.

he lifts his hand, his fingers gently tracing along your hip, his touch light, almost teasing. his voice is playful, but there's also a hint of possessiveness in his tone. “enough to prefer it over suguru's?” he asks, his eyes flickering up to meet yours, seeking further confirmation.

as your finger trails from his thigh to his zipper, gojo’s smirk deepens, his breath hitching slightly at your touch. your whisper, soft and teasing, sends a shiver down his spine. you nod, leaning in slightly, your lips barely brushing his ear. “i like yours the most,” you whisper, letting your finger linger teasingly on his zipper.

“its sooo big, thick, and clean, and red, you take care of your dick so well,” you continue to whisper to his ear.

gojo's smirk turns into a small gasp as your finger lightly brushes his zipper and your whisper in his ear. his body responds instantly to your touch and words, his breath hitching and his heart rate slightly picking up.

he grunts lightly as you continue to tease him with your whispers about how well he takes care of his dick, his own voice a little huskier as he responds.

“are you really trying to flatter me right now, princess?” he mutters, his eyes closing momentarily as his own hand grips your hip a little tighter. “yeah? my dick's better, right?” he asks after, his tone bordering on cocky as he looks up at you smugly. he tightens his grip on your wrist, while his other hand moving to rest possessively on your waist.

gojo's smug expression falters for a split second when you whisper, “sooo much better,” your voice low and teasing. his grip tightens just slightly on your waist, but before he can respond, you tap his thigh and begin to walk away, leaving him sitting on the bed.

he watches you, a mix of frustration and amusement playing on his face as you head to the bathroom, his possessive nature still burning beneath the surface. “you’re really gonna leave me like that, huh?” he mutters under his breath, eyes glued to your retreating figure.

his fingers twitch in response to the sudden loss of your touch, and he lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head with a small, exasperated grin, knowing full well you’ve won this round.

gojo stares after you as you walk towards the bathroom, his expression a mixture of frustration, amusement, and possessiveness. his fingers twitch with the need to pull you back, to keep you close and satisfy his possessive nature.

he lets out a low huff, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fact that he's slightly disgruntled by your departure. “you can't just tease me like that and then leave,” he calls out, his voice low and slightly rough.

he leans back on one elbow, his eyes glued to the bathroom door, already plotting his revenge for your cheeky retreat.

[onlygarden]

[quietly, baby] - yang jungwon

genre: smut

description: when you bring jungwon into the fitting room as you try on the lingerie he chose for you, he shows his appreciation through more than just words. jungwon x female reader, unprotected sex, public sex (but it's in a fitting room), dom jungwon, oral sex (male receiving), jungwon just can't wait

a/n: i've had this idea for a while and it's FINALLY come to fruition. i hope you all enjoy it just as much as i did while writing it (and imagining it lmao). at first, i planned to only do oral sex but i just couldn't resist adding more hehe. again, i hope this is an enjoyable read !!!

the delicate sound of the last of your clothing falling into a heap on the floor of the fitting room nearly escapes jungwon’s ears. every fragment of his focus was captivated by the event being painted before him. from his position, settled upon the small bench of the modestly confined space, it seemed as though he only just began to relax. the sight of you — bearing nothing aside from your undergarments, slipping sinfully into the black silk he chose for you — acted as his captor. any remnants of relaxation sailed helplessly away from his body; a certain tension now resides in each of his muscles, igniting his body with a need which can only be met by you. 

“how does this look, baby? do you like it?” you ask casually, a hopeful smile decorating your face. 

the question, seemingly simple enough, lingers in jungwon’s mind for a moment. he swallows, a desperate attempt to soothe the sudden spell of dryness in his throat. goodness, of course he likes it. no composition of words in all of existence can ever truly describe just how much he ‘likes’ it.  

he exhales softly, hoping to unwind his taut muscles even a fraction. “baby… you look fucking hot,” he tells you, freely betraying the indecency of his thoughts. 

“can i touch you?” he immediately follows up, hardly giving you enough time to react to the boldness of his first statement.   

an almost inaudible gasp drifts from your lips, and a pang of insistent arousal runs through your body from the sight of his desperation and shamelessness alone. 

much too impatient for a blatant answer, jungwon stands up, breaching the hardly acknowledgeable distance between the two of you. his fingers travel wispily along the curve of your waist, and settle in a hard, possessive grip on your hips. he pulls your body towards his, his hands now roaming the silk of your lingerie slip in a feverish manner.

“just remember baby… we’re in public,” you remind him, a breathless attempt to reign in his barely-contained desire. 

that’s right — public. in jungwon’s erotically corrupted mind, the two of you were concealed enough. surely, no one would happen to overhear if he decided to cage you against the wall and drive himself deep inside of you with feral intensity. surely, the both of you can maintain enough control to hold in any moans, gasps, or grunts. more importantly, however, jungwon didn’t even care. 

he leans down to kiss you without a moment of hesitation, his lips melding and dancing with yours in a flurry of silkiness and roughness. as you moan softly in response to the feeling of his lips and his body against yours, he walks you backwards until he’s pressing you against the wall. he’s surely got you now.

all of your adamant concerns with the risk of nearby shoppers or staff hearing the two of you seemed so trivial now — the way jungwon’s hands slid down your body to grope the soft flesh of your ass snatched any importance away from anything else. in this moment, all your mind could helplessly muster was a need for the delicious stretch that only jungwon could provide you with. you wanted to give your body to him in any manner you could to please him, too. 

“fuck, baby… you’re making me so hard,” he says, his lips still brushing against yours as he speaks. 

god, his hard cock always felt so divine when his body was pressed up against yours. the sensation alone is more than enough to ignite your body with an undeniable impulse to urge streams of cum from him.

you wordlessly coerce him into changing positions with you, his body now pressed against the wall as your lips begin to place kisses down his neck. jungwon’s head tilts back in a subtle thud against the wall behind him as a quiet, throaty moan drifts past his lusciously plush lips. his hands squeeze your ass, his body subconsciously giving into all impulses and doing little to hide the desperate ache in his cock.  

your hands move to his pants, settling upon his belt and unbuckling it with haste. your eyes were hungrily fixed on the way his cock strained impatiently against the fabric. jungwon’s heavy eyes immediately widen as you fall to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in tandem. 

“baby, are you going to…?” his voice trails off in a sharp inhale as you wrap your hand around his cock and lick up his underside. 

“fuck, baby…” he breathes out quietly, a shudder running ruthlessly through his body. 

you lean up just enough to spit on his cock, beginning to stroke him languidly with the lubrication. as you envelop him in your mouth, jungwon’s hands rest tightly in your hair, his cock throbbing so delectably in the back of your throat as it constricts around him. 

“baby, oh god, so fucking good…” he moans softly, his hips thrusting subtly into your mouth. 

you begin to bob along his length, moving up and down so wickedly, your hand twisting around him in a dizzying combination. 

a low, narrowly restrained moan escapes his parted lips, his eyebrows furrowed and his face contorted in the heavenly pleasure your mouth is providing him with.

his chest heaves gently, his fingers massage your scalp eagerly, and his body can no longer brawl with the compulsion to thrust into your mouth once more. 

“baby… just like that,” he manages, his voice helplessly strained with pleasure. 

as your movements gain speed, and your free hand wanders up to fondle his balls, jungwon’s hips jerk forward in an irresistible itch for more. his cock throbs fervently against the wet silkiness of your tongue, and his stomach begins to ripple delicately as shivers of pleasure force through his body. 

“yes, oh god, yes…” he utters in a breathy, strangled moan. in hesitant defiance of the unspeakable bliss rising within him, he pulls your mouth from his length. jungwon would much prefer to plunge himself uninhibitedly within the silky, glossy, indescribably wet palace of your pussy. 

“stand up, baby. i wanna destroy your tight little pussy,” he throws at you. 

the raspy desperation and authority in his voice commands your body to oblige, and you rise to your feet. he pushes you toward the wall, pulling your hips back towards him just enough to allow him to enter you. he pulls your panties down with the same intentions — and the same haste — and he slides his hand under the silky fabric of your slip, effectively unveiling your glistening pussy. 

jungwon’s eyes darken to an intense shade at the sight of your pussy, soaking wet, begging to be stretched and obliterated. “god, baby… you’re so fucking wet,” he says lowly, his hand already wrapped around his shaft, sliding his cockhead teasingly between your folds. 

as you shiver pitifully at such a modest sensation, jungwon forces himself into you. he sinks rapidly into the slick, velvety confines and his cock demands you open as he buries himself to the hilt.

“mmm… fuck, baby. gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t see straight,” he mutters, his words laced with blinding pleasure. as his cock begins to pound you tenderly, assessing just how pronounced the sounds of your gasps and your pussy would be, his hand travels fiercely along the silk decorating your back, eventually settling in yet another harsh grip on your hip. 

a prominent smack echoes through the tight walls of the fitting room as jungwon’s hand meets the flesh of your ass. as rapidly as the sound reaches your ears, the pace of jungwon’s thrusts quicken with drastic measure, and he absolutely succumbs to the desire to pummel you into a daze. 

jungwon’s thrusts are erratic, his cock plowing in and out of you wildly, leaving your body feeble, staggered, and as good as helpless.

you try, god, you try to keep your moans breathy and suppressed, but the way jungwon’s cock mishandled and tortured your insides was much too sweet to rein in. your fervent, hardly controlled, and stuttered moans and whimpers chime lewdly within the confined space, resonating deeply in jungwon’s pistoning cock. he reluctantly stifles the sounds of your moans with his hand, hating to mute such an enthralling reaction to the way his cock tore through you.

“mmm, baby… you like that?” he asks crudely, knowing the answer all too familiarly.

the indescribable drag of his length along your walls, the utterly enticing sound of his muffled grunts and quiet whines, the way his fingers dig into your hips in an urgent declaration of ownership — it all sends each of your senses and nerves spiraling defenselessly into an electrifying pool of delight beyond description. 

as jungwon frantically observes the evidence of your orgasm — your softened cries vibrating against his hand, your body shuddering under the intensity of the pleasure, your pussy convulsing and spasming around him — his cock begins to pulse within you. 

“oh god, gonna fill you up so good- fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he spills freely inside you, streams of his cum flooding your pussy abundantly, his cock buried as deep as your battered pussy would allow. a gentle shudder travels through him from the magnitude of the pleasure you so willingly provided, and he loosens his rigid grasp on your hips. 

“you think anyone heard?” he asks playfully, his deep, short breaths tangling with your own.

a gentle laugh escapes him as you immediately nod, and he begins to withdraw his cock from you, thoroughly enjoying the squelches he receives in return.

neither of you are quite ready to return to the store, reluctant to face the impending shame.

but in truth — jungwon doesn’t really care.

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 2

part one | two - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

(requests open)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 3745

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

NOT PROOFREAD :D

the corridors of hogwarts were eerily quiet - almost too quiet in the early morning light. you wandered around hogwarts, taking in the atmosphere. it was just how you remembered how life was before the war. but you had to act as if you didn't know, act as if you didn't know your way around hogwarts. your heart was still racing from the overwhelming disorientation of time travel. the walls seemed taller, the stones beneath you felt somewhat smoother. it felt the same but yet so different at the same time.

you had no clue what to do next, the task laid plain ahead of you - find tom riddle and alter the course of his life by becoming his big love. you shook your head, you knew how time travel had a big effect in the timeline. you never took muggle studies - physics - but you knew what this could do. once he sees you, it's done. there's no going back, well it's not like you could turn back whenever you wanted.

but, it was like hermione said, 'no one is supposed to see you' but only this time it was different. if you didn't change tom riddle for the better - you could make him even worse then he was in your time.

"i believe you may be a bit out of place, my dear."

you stopped dead in your tracks, your heart almost leaped out of your chest. the voice was warm, kind, but still serious. you recognized the voice, you turned and saw dumbledore standing there. a somewhat younger version.

you knew he was still a professor in this year, his auburn hair was tinged with a lot of strands of silver, his robes a deep shade of purple. his piercing blue eyes gleamed with curiosity and suspicion as he looked at you. he raised an eyebrow and his lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. you wanted to slap him, angry for making you do this, while telling you absolutely nothing.

"you look as though you've been wandering these halls for quite some time," he continued, stepping toward you. "and yet, i don't recall seeing you in any of my classes."

you swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for a good answer, but you came up empty handed. dumbledore's gaze was patient, waiting for you to speak.

"uhh... i-" you began, voice shaking softly, but you stopped. what could you say? what were you supposed to say? that you had just traveled back into the past to stop one of his students from becoming the biggest and darkest wizard of all time?

dumbledore's eyes softened, "why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private?" he suggested, his tone gentle. "i have a feeling there's more to your story than a lost stroll through the castle."

without waiting for your response, dumbledore turned around, motioning for you to follow him. you hesitated for a second, but the calmness in his demeanor somehow reassured you. reluctantly, you followed him down the corridor, your footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the morning.

after a while, you arrived at an empty classroom, the large wooden door creaking as dumbledore pushed it open. sunlight entered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. the air was filled with a faint scent of parchment and chalk, just like his.

dumbledore gestured to a chair near the front. "please, sit down. make yourself comfortable."

you did ask he asked, feeling out of place in this familiar yet unfamiliar world. dumbledore remained standing in front of your desk for a moment. studying you with those sharp, calculating eyes. "there is something... remarkable about you," he said quietly, his voice kind. "you're not quite where you're supposed to be, are you?"

you looked at your shoes, you realised you also didn't really look the part to only be lost. "no," you admitted. you knew lying to a man like dumbledore would do you no good. "i'm.. not?" you said unsure.

dumbledore nodded, as if he expected that answer. "time," he mused, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "it has a peculiar way of bending when we least expect it."

your head snapped up, meeting his gaze. he knew. he definitely knew. "how?" you breathed, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself from talking. "how did you-"

dumbledore raised his hand to quiet you, "i have my ways," he smiled. "but more importantly, it seems you have a very important reason for being here."

you swallowed, feeling the enormity of your 'mission' pressed down on you, but in dumbledore's presence, it felt a little less overwhelming - though you were still angry he didn't tell you anything sooner. he waited, giving you space to explain.

after a pause, you spoke again. "i was sent.. to change something. something that will affect the future," you hesitated, unsure how much you were allowed to reveal. "it's about tom riddle."

at the mention of riddle's name, dumbledore's expression didn't change, but you saw the smallest change in his demeanor. his gaze become more focused, and he leaned forward slightly.

"tom", he repeated softly. "yes... i've always known there was something... special about that boy."

special? more like dangerous. you nodded, "if i don't change him, if i can't make him different... the world will fall into darkness. everyone i love, my friends..." you stopped. your parents. you hadn't even thought of them. your heart started banging in your chest, you wanted to go back. tell them that you were grateful for everything, and that you were sorry for leaving them behind out of nowhere.

dumbledore didn't react with surprise, he nodded. "do not worry about your friends or family." he sighed softly. "you have been given a great responsibility. but changing the course of someone's life is no simple task, especially when that person's soul is... so deeply marked."

you looked down at your hands, "i don't even know if it's possible."

for a moment, dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed on you with empathy. "nothing is impossible, but you must remember, even the darkest of souls have their choices. tom riddle's path has always been his own. you may be able to guide him... but ultimately, it is up to him who or what he becomes."

his words hung in the air, a reminder of what you were facing. "know that, i will be watching, and if you ever need guidance, you know where to find me."

dumbledore had insisted on introducing you to the Headmaster as a transfer student, emphasizing that no one could know the truth. the fewer people involved in the truth, the better.

you made your way through the corridors of hogwarts with dumbledore. students were scattered around, laughing, talking in hushed voices, completely unaware of the darkness that would be coming.

dumbledore said the password to the headmasters office, it was the same as he had. so original. the spiral staircase came into view as the gargoyle's started moving. you followed your former headmaster up the stairs. the office was filled with old books, a large desk, and a few moving portraits on the walls. it was looked almost the same like dumbledore's office.

behind the desk sat headmaster armando dippet, a tall, thin man with kind eyes. "ah, albus," dippet said, rising from his seat to greet him. "what brings you here?"

dumbledore gestured to you. "headmaster, i would like to introduce you our newest transfer student." he gave you a small nod to encourage you to take a step forward. "she's come from beauxbatons and will be joining us for the rest of her schooling."

dippet's eyebrows rose in surprise. "a transfer from beauxbatons? how delightful! we don't often have students join us from abroad." he looked at you. "what is your name, my dear?"

you swallowed, your nerves tightening your throat, "y/n l/n." you smiled at the headmaster, "i'm honored to be here."

"it's always wonderful to have new students join us at hogwarts. the castle can seem quite large and scary at first, but i'm very sure you'll grow accustomed to it in no time," dippet smiled at you.

you forced back a smile. normally, you would love such pleasantries, but now? absolutely not, it felt as if you wanted to throw up.

dumbledore stepped forward, "headmaster, i've already informed y/n of the basic rules and traditions of the school, but i do believe the sorting hat will handle the rest?"

"indeed," dippet nodded, motioning to a nearby shelf where the sorting hat was in its usual place. "no time like the present."

your heart raced when the sorting hat was placed upon your head. you knew what house you had once belonged to, but would it be hte same here? in this time?

"hmm.." the hat murmured after whining about who dared to wake him up. "interesting... very interesting. you're not like the others i've sorted. ever."

you held your breath.

"i see loyalty.. with a lot of bravery." the had mused, "a fierce desire to do what's right, even when it's proven difficult. courage, and there's something more than that... something deeper.."

did it know? you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, huffing out a breath.

"ah," it whispered. "but that is not for me to uncover. your place, however, is clear."

another moment passed, and then the hat shouted, "gryffindor!"

the word rang in your ears, you weren't placed in the same house. your former house was hufflepuff, what changed? the house of loyalty, hard work, and kindness. maybe this could help ground you. most hufflepuffs you knew where, kind (mostly high as well) and helpful. there were always exceptions but, you were happy with that house.

dippet clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. "a gryffindor! a fine choice indeed. you'll find good company there."

dumbledore's expression remained calm. "it seems that your path is set," he said quietly, his eyes twinkling with that wisdom he always had.

as the hat was lifted from your head, you stood up from the stool you had taken a seat on. gryffindor. it was unexpected, but not wrong - or bad. in some way, it made sense for you. you needed to be brave to talk to tom riddle. so, what better house for that than gryffindor?

the headmaster waved his wand, and a piece of parchment floated over to you. "here's your timetable, y/n," he said, handing it over to you. "you'll begin classes immediately. i'm sure the others will help you find your way.

you took the parchment, scanning the schedule, you had loads of free periods, and as always an astronomy class at midnight on a friday night.

"thank you, headmaster," you said quietly, tucking the parchment under your arm.

dippet smiled. "welcome to hogwarts, y/n. i hope your time here will be both enlightening and rewarding."

"i sure hope so," you nodded. rewarding. you could use the reward of going home.

you and dumbledore left the office, going down the staircase the air felt cooler. dumbledore walked beside you, in silence.

"so, you've been placed in gryffindor," dumbledore broke the silence. "a good choice. you'll find community of loyalty and bravery there."

you nodded, "i didn't expect it."

"sometimes," dumbledore said with a smile," the unexpected paths are the ones that lead us exactly where we need to go. you have been given a second chance, in more ways than one."

"and remember," he said softly. "the fewer people who know your true purpose, the better. riddle must never know why you're really here."

you nodded.

when you stepped inside the gryffindor common room, you immediately felt the warmth. there was a soft red glow from the lanterns, walls were lined with rewards and books. the smell of fresh cookies hung in the air.

a group of students were clustered around a table and looked up as you entered. it was already early in the morning, you wondered why most students were up this time in the morning. the faces of the students were curious but friendly, a wave of relief washed over you. before you could take another step, a girl with curly dark hair and a wide smile broke away from the group.

"hi!" she greeted enthusiastically, her eyes open wide with interest. "you must be the new transfer student! i'm maeve, maeve miller."

you tried your best not to grimace, as you forced a smile. "i'm y/n l/n." the realisation of having to meet and make new friends downed on you even harder.

"professor dippet had owled us. we were all curious, y'know? transfer students aren't that common. you're lucky it's the start of the school year!"

you smiled at maeve's happiness, but you were still baffled at how fast news spreads in hogwarts. i mean you literally just left dippet's office.

"i'll make sure you fit right in, i'll show you to the dormitory," maeve smiled.

you followed her to a spiral staircase, as you walked with maeve, she chatted happily about the house traditions, the upcoming quidditch match, and the best way to sneak extra food from the kitchen.

once you reached the dormitory, you found yourself in a circular room with soft, warm lighting. you saw only one vacant bed - in the middle - with your belongings neatly placed beside it. a suitcase you had recognized, though it felt strange seeing it here. you basically came empty handed here, so how are all your belongings here then?

"how..?" you trailed off, confused.

maeve, caught your confusion. "professor dumbledore's pretty amazing, isn't he? he made sure your belongings were here from yesterday evening. must've used some magic to get your stuff here so quickly."

you nodded, even more confused. you didn't even know you had to time travel yesterday. you had no idea how, and you didn't want to think too much about it before it might drive you mad.

"so, obviously, that's your bed," maeve pointed towards the bed with your belongings on. "and this is mine," she added, pointing to the bed next to yours. "we'll be neighbors! oh, and these are your other roommates."

two other girls approached, one with long red hair and freckles, and the other with short brown curls. they introduced themselves as alicia and lilith, both offering you warm welcoming smiles.

"nice to meet you," alicia said, while lilith gave you a small, shy wave. "it's so exciting to have someone new join us, especially in our fifth year!"

"i'm glad to be here!" you lied right through your teeth. "well, we're heading to breakfast in a bit if you want to join us," alicia offered. "but i'm sure you'll want to settle in first."

"yeah, you guys go ahead, i'll catch up with you in a while," you replied with a nod and a smile.

as the girls made their way out, leaving you alone, you felt disoriented. this was all going too fast. you needed a moment to yourself, normally you would've already been in your last year. you made your way over to the small adjoining bathroom. the light was bright. you stepped in front of the large mirror, ready to see your face full of scars and dirt you got from the war.

but no, your fingers trembled slightly as you reached up to touch your face. staring back at you was a younger version of yourself - exactly as you had looked in your own fifth year at hogwarts. your features were softer, untouched by the weight of the war. your eyes looked brighter.. they hadn't seen the horrors that awaited. no pair of eyes should see a war go down.

it was all surreal, like looking at a stranger. it was clear the potion had not only sent you back in time, but also transformed you to match the age you needed to be.

for a moment, the reflection blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. you had been thrust back into your younger self, in a world you didn't belong in. you took a deep breath, swallowing the fears and tears away. you could do this. you had to do this. for your friends and family.

the first day at hogwarts felt surreal. the familiar sounds of students chatting in the great hall, the smell of fresh made foods and the sight of enchanted candles floating above made you feel like you had stepped back into a dream. you knew there was a big chance that tom riddle was here, in the same room as you.

but before you could worry about him, you had to get through your first day as just another transfer student.

you found yourself sitting at the gryffindor table with your roommates and their friends. "so, what was beauxbatons like? i've heard it's incredibly fancy, with all those grand fountains everywhere," maeve spoke - a good friend from lilith you noted. you could see how she was the one who made lilith blossom open as a shy person.

you hesitated for a second, remembering dumbledore's warning to keep it simple. you gave her a small smile, "it's different from hogwarts. especially since there are a lot more boys here then i'm used to."

lucas, a boy with a head full of black curls looked up, "hogwarts has it's charm, luckily you were sorted into gryffindor, you seem like a cool person and everyone knows it's the best house."

alicia was flipping to your timetables, trying to figure out if you had any classes with your gryffindor friends. "we've got defense against the dark arts first thing! i'm hoping for some practical lesson, today. spells maybe," alicia's eyes widened with excitement.

your stomach dropped slightly after lucas mentioned there was a big chance we'd have a class with the slytherins and a few ravenclaws. given riddle's obsessive interest in the subject, there was no doubt he wouldn't be in this class.

you offered a casual nod, "defence against the dark arts should be interesting..."

after the five of you finished breakfast and gathered your books and made your way to your first class of the day. the halls were busy with students, most of whom paid little attention to you, though a few curious glanced lingered.

once you reached DADA classroom, you found yourself standing at the doorway. you hoped for a normal teacher, when you were in hogwarts every year there was this teacher with the weirdest background ever. the classroom was large, with desks arranged i neat rows, the walls were lined with various defensive artifacts.

you let your eyes wander around the room. there, near the middle, sat tom riddle.

he was exactly as you had imagined - tall, dark-haired, and composed. his sharp features and cold eyes stood out even among your classmates. he exuded an air of authority and confidence. the other students around him seemed to ignore him, you wondered why. were they scared of him, or did they think he was a weirdo?

you quickly tore your gaze away from the back of his head, before he sensed you staring. "come on," maeve whispered, "we don't want you to be late on your first day."

you nodded, and walked towards a vacant seat next to lucas. the professor was a stern looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard. he immediately launched into a discussion of the most advanced spells, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact.

it was pretty hard to focus with the presence of tom riddle in the room. every now and then, you dared to glance at him, watching as he listened intently, his expression focused and serious. you had no idea how you were supposed to change him. he already seemed so… unreachable.

halfway through the class, the professor called for everyone to pair up for dueling practice. maeve grabbed your arm, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“partners?” she asked eagerly.

“of course,” you replied, grateful for the distraction.

you and maeve moved to an open space in the classroom, pulling out your wands as the professor demonstrated a series of defensive spells. you followed along, trying to keep your movements smooth and controlled. thankfully, the practice went well, and maeve seemed impressed.

“you’re really good!” she said after successfully blocking one of your spells. “you must have had excellent teachers at beauxbatons.”

you smiled and nodded at her praise. as you practiced with maeve, you couldn’t help but notice tom a few spaces away, dueling effortlessly with a slytherin boy. his movements were precise, fluid, as if he had been born with a wand in his hand. it was clear to anyone watching that he was far more advanced than most students his age.

finally, when the class came to an end, and you packed up your things, trying to avoid looking at him as you left the room with maeve, lilith, alicia and lucas.

“next up is transfiguration,” alicia said, checking her timetable as you all walked down the corridor. “i’m actually looking forward to that one.”

the rest of the day passed in a similar blur. transfiguration was more manageable — professor dumbledore, who taught the class, gave you a small, knowing smile when he saw you, though he treated you no differently than the other students. you worked on basic transformations alongside your friends, though your mind kept drifting back to defense against the dark arts and the presence of tom riddle.

potions came next, with professor slughorn as the teacher. he welcomed you to the class with open arms, making sure you had everything you needed. it was weird, since you already met him just when he was a bit older. lucas was quick to show you around the room, helping you find ingredients and sharing tips for the potion you were brewing.

“slughorn’s a bit of a collector,” alicia whispered as you carefully added a pinch of powdered unicorn horn to your cauldron. “he loves students with… potential. but he’s nice, at least.”

"he's even got a club," lilith quipped in quietly.

by the time you reached your last class of the day, charms, the exhaustion of trying to keep up appearances had settled deep in your bones. yet, your new friends kept the energy alive. alicia was quick with jokes, and lucas had a dry, witty humor that balanced maeve's enthusiasm. and lilith was just there, enjoying her friends' energy.

a/n: quick chapterrrr, part three will be coming out next week (probably or sooner)

my little taglist <3

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

@artistadistrada2002

@hueanhdang

[dollarbils]

i like you better with me | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. billie’s tired of chasing you to break up with him. what happens when you do, but struggle to regain her trust?

warnings. smut, angst, mean billie lowk, hella teasing, strap 🙈

part 1, part 2

your desperate. pathetically desperate. she’s been dodging your calls for days. you’d do anything to get her back which is what prompted the hasty drive to her house. the knock on her door was surely quieter than the continuous thump of your heart.

“billie!” you called, noticing the kitchen window was open so she could hear you. after a long pause, the door opened. but it wasn’t an invitation to come inside.

“what?” she asked, seeming unsurprised at your surprise turn-up.

“can we please talk?” you pleaded and she hesitated opening the door wider, for you to come in. she hesitated forgiving you without an apology like she’d done so many times.

“it depends. are you here to apologise?” you furrowed your brows, confused.

“for what?” she widened her eyes at you, as if you were stupid, and shut the door in your face. you knocked on it incessantly for the next thirty seconds before she gave in and opened it again.

“would you stop that?” she huffed, you could tell she was tired of your shit. it made you feel awful, and revealed all the reasons you should be here to apologise.

“I’m so sorry bils, genuinely. please let me in so that we can talk.” you were a rejection away from getting on your knees.

“i don’t wanna talk.” she said childishly, but however waiting for a response instead of shutting the door again.

“please give me another chance, i really need you to hear what i have to say.” it took her a while, but she was as weak as you. and she opened the door, letting you into her house, but back into her heart as-well.

“well?” she shut the door and perched herself up on the back of her couch.

“i miss you billie, and i’m so sorry.”

“are you now? because i’ve heard that before.” she wasn’t taking you seriously and she had every right not to but it was frustrating.

“come on billie, you know i still love you, i told you. i want to be with you. properly. we didn’t do it right last time. give us a chance to do it right.” you approached her, her position meaning she was a few inches beneath you. her eyes were wide and behind them, her head was spinning with contradictory thoughts. you looked at her in adoration and she folded.

“i fall for this shit every time.” she reached for your face and brought your lips to hers in a soft kiss. it wasn’t what you expected but when she smiled into the kiss, a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“ask me the question.” she stood up as you spoke, pulling you into her arms. she smiled, knowing exactly what you meant.

“did you break up with him?” her words were a whisper on your lips. a silent promise you made to her that you’d failed to keep for too long. she held her breath as you spoke, drowning in anticipation.

“yes.” her smile slowly began to widen, chuckles coming out because she couldn’t believe it. her lips leaped onto yours, this time more passionate, more desperate.

“for you.” you added in between kisses and she groaned into your mouth, it was sweet. so sweet, but you couldn’t help but want more.

“mm, you taste so good baby.” she commented when she pulled her tongue out of your mouth, licking your swollen lips.

“need you so bad.” you whined into her ear as her mouth did unholy things to your neck. she pulled you harder against her waist, wanting you to feel her. you quickly became aware of what was underneath her jeans and it made you tingle.

“been waiting to fuck you properly for so long.” she kept her mouth on the skin of your jaw while she spoke, devouring the taste of your skin.

“finally can,” she blabbed on, “my girl.” her words made you grow more desperate for her, feeling the ache in your heat. it’d been present for days.

“billie.” you repeated her name every time she sucked your skin, snaking her arms around your lower body, caressing your ass.

“i like you better with me.”

“me too.” you confirmed when her hand came to the back of your neck, providing warmth and comfort.

“mh, you like the sex.” she chuckled on your skin. and you grabbed her face bringing it up to yours before speaking.

“so do you.” she tilted her head looking upwards in animation of thought. “only with you though.” you added.

“i see what you’re doing, it’s too late to act cute.” she took your bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down softly. she pushed her hips into yours again, reminding you of her position. you couldn’t stifle the groan it caused. you were pulled into her bedroom as she removed your shirt. her hands were never in the same place as she let herself discover your body all over again. she leaned on you, the strap beneath her jeans digging into your heat. you were whining for her to do something other than kiss you.

“patience baby.” she smiled kissing your face.

“you always say that shit.” you whined when she made no move to satisfy you. you rolled your hips back and forth on her clothed dick and she laughed on your skin, her teeth grazing sensitive places. she let it happen for a while before gripping your hips to stop them from moving. she slid your sweatpants off, along with your underwear. she was painfully slow with it too.

“please billie.” she kissed across her stomach, finding every last bit of skin she hadn’t touched yet, before finally moving lower. her breath was on your heat, her lips inches from your clit. she made an effort to blow softly as she watched you squirm and clench on nothing. your whines were getting louder as she still refused to touch you where you needed her. she was so turned on watching you writhe at nothing but her breath. she moved away completely and came back up to your face.

“you’re gonna look so pretty sitting on me.” she whispered seductively before pulling you close to her and flipping you over, having you straddle her. she spread her legs so that you could feel her through her jeans.

“you’re making a mess on my jeans baby, are you gonna take them off?” you looked at her hesitantly, before pulling them off quickly. your eyes widened at the size of her and she smirked.

“can you take it?” she asked, watching your eyes wander the strap. “baby?” she called for you again and you nodded.

“what are you waiting for? do you need me to do everything?” she teased before you gathered the courage to line her up with your entrance. she watched your face as you sunk down on her, the strap disappearing slowly. you got half way before you stopped and she raised her eyebrows.

“i thought you said you could take it? is it too much?” she said in a condescending voice, it made you flush in embarrassment.

“no.” your voice was reduced to merely a breath, her affect on you evident in your expression.

“then take it.” she pulled your hips down onto her as your vision became blurry and your head started spinning. you’d never felt this full. the weight of your body pressed down on her perfectly as she groaned. you felt incapable of moving your own hips.

“move or i’ll do it for you.” she threatened as you looked at her.

“i thought you wanted me to be patient.” you replied, a slight rasp in your voice, and her mouth was agape, in shock of your clap back, as she rolled her tongue across the inside of her cheek. she showed off her strength as she lifted her hips until you were fully off of her. she ignored the fact you were wincing and whining before she pushed you back down on her strap, filling you up again without any warning. the moan that left you was guttural and she bit her lip as she heard it.

“fuck, billie.” a few tears spilled free from your eyes as she rolled your hips back and forth.

“you look so pretty crying on my dick. i like you a lot better with me.” her words were a ruse for what was to come. and the sweet undertone wasn’t about to fool you.

[maskedbyghost]

soulmate!Simon <- i wanted to write a bit more about this.

what if this soulmate thingy makes both of you horny af the more you try to deny this connection, you're wet the moment you feel simon near you, and his dick is like HELLO the moment he sees you, and omg just kiss already, what are you doing???

MDNI !!

it’s like every other night, but simon’s presence makes everything worse. you’re alone in the common room with him, the laptop screen blinking back at you while your mind is somewhere else entirely. he’s behind you, you can feel it, his stare a heavy weight that makes every inch of your skin prickle. the air’s too hot, the room closing in, and you’re trying so hard to focus on work, but it’s impossible with him there, his mere presence making you restless.

fuck, you want him. it’s a burning need you can’t ignore, even though you’re doing everything you can to hide it. you pull off your sweater, hoping the cool air will help, but it only makes the tension worse. you want him so badly, but you’re too stubborn to admit it, trying to keep control, keep this from spiraling. this soulmate thing is bullshit; simon can’t be the right choice. he’s cold, stoic, not fun—everything you’d want to avoid. but your body? it’s screaming something else entirely, a desperate craving for him that you can’t deny.

simon’s a mess, too. you can see it in the way he shifts, the way he struggles to keep his composure. he’s trying so hard not to give in, fighting every urge to take you right there on the table. he’s repressing his feelings, thinking you don’t want him, that you’re not interested, that you’re just being distant. he’s struggling with his own desire, torn between what he wants and what he thinks you want.

the tension between you two it’s almost unbearable, this constant pull and push, this desperate thing that’s pulling at both of you.

you can barely concentrate on your work. the laptop screen blurs in front of you, your thoughts scattered, every moment of heat and frustration making it harder to stay focused. of course, you make a mistake—one of those stupid errors that makes you swear under your breath and of course simon hears.

he’s right behind you now, just trying to help, that’s all. no other reason. his body presses close to yours as he leans in to help you fix the mistake, and the moment your bodies touch, something snaps inside you. every nerve in your body screams for more, the connection between you undeniable, too strong to ignore.

your breath hitches, and you turn to him, voice barely more than a whisper but laced with desperation 'simon, do something about this.'

simon’s eyes meet yours, dark with the same hunger that’s been clawing at you. there’s no hesitation in his response 'oh, i will.'

in an instant, he scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder. you’re breathless as he carries you effortlessly towards his room.

you denied him for too long, good luck girl.

‐-------------‐------------------‐----------------

@daydreamerwoah

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

The beauty of accidental marriage proposals

Yuuri very likely didn't intend to propse to Viktor at the airport but his heart knew what it (and he) truly desired and twisted his words into a proposal—or rather something akin to a proposal that resulted in a spontaneous engagement.

Let's unpack this.

Yuuri returns from the Rostelecom Cup with his mind full of things that he wants to tell Viktor. While we don't learn the details, his inner monologue in the previous scene gives us a good idea of the things he's mulling over.

Yuuri has convinced himself that Viktor will abandon him after the Grand Prix Final. Thus, that competition is his final chance to win gold and he's determined to fulfil the promise he made in his speech in ep. 5 and win that medal. But even if doesn't win gold, there is one thing that he feels he needs to do after seeing skaters and skating fans react to Viktor becoming a coach at two consecutive competitions.

Regardless of how much Yuuri has profited from Viktor's support, he is very conscious about the fact that Viktor belongs to the ice. Or at least that is what his anxious brain has convinced him of. In this sense, giving up his own career so that Viktor can resume his own is an act of love and the only possible solution for them to stay together (in Yuuri's brain).

We never learn about the end of Yuuri's contemplation, but the subtext of the next scene implies that breaking up with Viktor is not an option. Or if it was an option, it was off the table once he was back in Viktor's arms.

Since Yuuri has anxiety, it's safe to assume that he has been overthinking his talk with Viktor over and over during the flight, going through all kinds of scenarios based on Viktor's imagined reaction. After hours on the plane, his brain must have been on the verge of exploding, casting poor Yuuri into a state of total overwhelm. If you have anxiety, you can possibly relate.

However, the moment that he spots Viktor, his mind goes blank and instinct takes over as he runs into Viktor's arms and instead of whatever speech he has prepared, he just blurts out the following line:

僕も考えてた。引退まで 僕のこと—　お願いします！ "I've been thinking, too. Please take care of me until I retire!"

The English translation is a bit messed up here. In the original, Yuuri never uses the word coach in that line. "Please take care of me" is Japanese proposal language. The translators probably didn't recognise this nuance and sadly, the nuance is still lost in the Bluray version.

But that's why Viktor recognises the proposal in Yuuri's words.

However, based on the details given and the illogical ways anxious brains work, Yuuri intended to inform Viktor about his retirement plans and to voice his desire to make the most of the little time he thinks they have left. But that's not what his heart wants. And since episode 5 we know what that is:

初めて自分から繋ぎとめたいと思った人、それがヴィクトルです

A more accurate translation of that line is "The first person I want to tie myself to and never let go is Viktor" because 繋ぎとめたい means wanting to tie someone / something to you and never let it go (see this translation error masterpost).

Of course, Yuuri doesn't want his relationship with Viktor to end and no matter if his anxiety his skyrocketing in the face of the GPF looming ahead, that desire has taken root in his heart and brain. However, his anxiety stops him from proposing actually and turns his addition "until I retire" into a gentle prodding to find out whether he and Viktor are on the same page.

And of coruse, they are.

And it's all Yuuri has wished for. He's been anxious the whole time. Until Viktor recognises the proposal and response with a yes in the same fashion that Yuuri has asked.

To wrap all of this up:

Absence nurtures desire and in this case, the time apart has shown Yuuri and Viktor how much they want to be by each other's side. Because he missed Viktor so desperately, Yuuri's heart wins over his anxiety for once and enables him to tell Viktor his deepest desire. By recognising said desire, Viktor is able to accept the proposal and the two boys are now officially engaged. And that's yet another beautiful aspect about this show.

Unfortunately Viktor didn't really catch the part about the retirement, which will result in him thinking that Yuuri wants to break up when Yuuri announces his retirement plans in Barcelona. On the other hand, knowing that Viktor wants to stay by his side forever is a huge relief for Yuuri and allows him to enter the GPF without any emotional baggage.

Bonus: look at that cute tiny smile right between Viktor recognising the proposal and the second hug.

For further readings related to this please check out:

Japanese dating culture in YOI

Unwrapping "Let's end this"

On Yuuri's top-secret love life

If you enjoyed this meta you might like to check out my YOI canon works on AO3 or just support me by reblogging this post.

[zxoaii]

Tease

fem! reader x Kento Nanami

Summary: Nanami gets even after a tease.

SMUT

WC: 1.7k

Find this and more on my wattpad!

Wattpad: _Bolter

[ Y/n ]

The crash of glass shattering on the floor startles me awake. My hands instinctively reach for the drawer next to the bed. As I fumble fearfully in the dark, a curse comes from the kitchen.

"Nanami?"

I get out of bed and make my way to the doorway. Nanami stands in the kitchen with his back to me. "I just broke something. Don't come over here barefoot."

I turn the kitchen light on for him. "I didn't want to wake you." He awkwardly moves to avoid looking at me. "You didn't want to wake me because you didn't want me to know you left the house or because you wanted to let me sleep?"

It's not a well-kept secret he's been sneaking out. Only it doesn't bother me as much as it should because I know he's working as a jujutsu sorcerer on the side.

"I thought you said you were done with all of that."

Nanami sighs and finally turns to face me. "Oh my god." My hands instinctively cup over my mouth. He's covered in blood.

"Not all of it's mine... And really it's just a superficial wound. It's just bleeding a lot."

He sweeps the glass up and dumps it into the trash. "It's not a big deal." I trail behind him as he makes his way to the bathroom.

I would ask but he wouldn't tell me. "Stop it. Sit down." Nanami stops digging through the cabinets and sits on the edge of the tub.

The first aid kit isn't even in the cabinets. It's in the closet. I grab it from the shelf and check the contents. Really, how am I supposed to treat him with this?

I set it down on the counter and wet a washcloth. Nanami can't hide the guilty look on his face. It would probably feel good to chew him out for this incredibly stupid thing he's doing.

When he went back to being a jujutsu sorcerer I thought he'd take it easy. After you almost die and decide to retire you usually learn a lesson. I guess he didn't.

The cloth cleans the blood off of his face. Did he really think he could hide this from me? I tilt his head to wipe blood out of his hair.

"It wasn't supposed to be this bad."

"You don't need to explain yourself."

It's hard not to be incredibly pissed at him. And at the same time, it's hard to not find him incredibly sexy sitting here while I fix him up.

I drop the cloth into the sink and open the first aid kit. He'd probably be better off with stitches. Instead, I grab rubbing alcohol, antibiotic cream, and some bandaids.

I search around the bathroom for our cotton pads to clean the wound with. "You're killing me in that dress." He should be used to a slip and some underwear by now.

I grab the box of cotton pads and bring them back over to him. "It might be easier if you sit on my lap." He isn't actually making moves right now, is he?

"Stop it."

I drench the pad in the alcohol and tilt his chin up. "I'm serious." His hand reaches up to grip my hip as I start cleaning the cut. He's pushing it.

"Hold still." I pass over the cut several times until it looks mostly clean. The bathroom light isn't great for looking at these things. "Sorry, you were just the closest thing to me." Nanami's hand falls off my hip.

I take the cream and apply it over the entire cut. There's more than he needs but hopefully, it will negate anything I missed while cleaning it out.

"Sweetheart, come on." Nanami runs his hands down my waist and hips while I find the largest bandaid we have. "Don't do this to me. Just give me something." The rip of the package replaces the response he wanted from me.

I place the bandaid on his forehead. My hands cup his face, caressing his cheeks gently. It's too hard to not give him anything.

He holds my ass as I lean in to kiss him. My hands slide back into his hair. There's no rush to the way he kisses me. Nanami's mouth is dangerously addictive.

It's almost painful to pull away from him just as he starts to take it further.

"What?" He looks up at me from his seated position. This punishment is equally bad for me. "You're not getting anything tonight." His hands fall to the edge of the tub as I walk back to the bedroom.

"And you should shower too," I add as I shut the bathroom door. If I caught a glimpse of him showering after I told him we wouldn't be having sex, it might actually kill me.

The bed welcomes me back. I can hear Nanami mumbling curses in the bathroom. It just has to be this way.

.  .  .

"I'm back!" The door shuts behind me with a click. I carry the groceries to the counter by myself. Usually, Nanami takes a couple of bags for me when I get home.

He walks out of the bedroom with his tie in hand. "Where are you going?" I ask as I start grabbing things from the bags. "Nowhere."

"Really?" I put my things down as he approaches me. "It's for you." My brows furrow as he holds it out. "What?"

"Put your hands out."

What's his point? I hold my hands out for him, palms up. Nanami closes my fingers into fists and then starts tying the tie around my wrists.

"Kento-"

He presses a kiss onto my forehead and then guides me back to our bedroom. Is this happening? "Do you enjoy teasing me?"

The pieces click in my head. He's still mad about the other night. Oh... I'm so in for it.

"Do you?" His fingers work away at my shorts while he speaks. "I couldn't reward bad behavior." Nanami pulls my underwear off with my shorts.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth."

He holds two fingers up to my lips. I open my mouth and he places them inside. "Good. Now suck them. You're going to want them to be wet." I suck his fingers shamelessly until he removes them from my mouth.

"I'm going to ask you again. Do you enjoy teasing me?" It's hard to focus with the sexual tension in this room. "Yes." The word falls from my lips once, twice, and then a pathetic third time.

Nanami wipes some spit off my chin with his thumb. He nods. My breaths come rapidly. I can't take this. My legs spread further across the bed.

I choke out a moan as he presses his fingers into me. My hands pull at the restraint. "Look at me." My head is turned to the side, my eyes are squeezed shut. "Look at me." Nanami coos tauntingly.

I force myself to look up at him. His fingers pump in and out of me at a steady pace. Still, it's not nearly enough. "You're so desperate aren't you?" There's no point in not giving him what he wants.

I want it too.

"Oh god, yes."

Nanami pulls his fingers out of me. A frustrated sigh is all I can respond with. My body reacts to every minor touch. His fingers grab the collar of my shirt.

"Don't-"

His arms flex as he tears it down the middle. His lips meet my neck and then my collarbone. All I can do is lay there and moan desperately. I need more.

"Nanami..."

His name comes out as a breathy sigh. It hurts to not be able to grab at his hair his shirt or his pants. I squirm as he kisses down my chest to my stomach.

How is he not going insane right now with me?

My lust starts to turn to desperation. I can't handle any more of this. "Just fuck me." Nanami raises his brows at me. "Sorry?"

Hot blush rushes across my cheeks. "Please just fuck me." The hunger in his eyes grows wilder at my begging. "Well..." He unbuckles his belt and drops it onto the floor.

I can't see as well as I want to but the sounds of him undoing his pants drive me just as wild. He leans over me on the bed. "And your shirt."

"My shirt?" I reach up and grab at his shirt. Nanami stands up, pulling away from my grasp. He takes his time unbuttoning his shirt.

I take in what I can. I hate the way being a jujutsu sorcerer almost kills him. But I have to give it credit for keeping him so fucking fit.

His muscles tense and flex as he leans over me again. "Say it one more time." Our eyes lock in a lustful trance.

"Please fuck me."

Nanami gives a small nod and grabs my hip with one hand. The way he does that drives me crazy. He doesn't waste time starting slow.

My moans echo through the room as Nanami thrusts into me relentlessly. His free hand grips my thigh. It will bruise tomorrow and he'll kiss me there. That thought drags another moan out of me.

"Don't stop." With nothing else to do my nails dig into my palms. Nanami's gruff moans start to mix in with mine.

One of my legs wraps around his hip, allowing him to hit a different angle. He adjusts too. Nanami slows his pace slightly and thrusts deeper.

I watch as his head falls back. His moans and curses turn me on in ways no one before him ever has. He drops my thigh and grabs my hand, pinning them above my head.

Nanami leans in closer while he holds my hands. His lips tease mine for a moment before finally kissing me. I drink up his taste like it's the only thing keeping me alive.

My stomach begins to tighten with overwhelming pleasure. Nanami continues to his me as I moan louder. My wrists are pressed harder into the mattress.

"That's it." He presses desperate kisses along my neck as I give in to my orgasm. "Good girl." Nanami drops my hands and sits back up.

"Good girl, just one more minute."

My head digs back into the mattress as my back arches up. His moans become more and more strangled with each minute that passes. I watch as he presses a hand against his forehead.

"Fuck, Y/n... Goddamnit." His hand falls onto my stomach as he finishes. The room falls silent except for our ragged breathing.

After a moment Nanami brushes his hair out of his face. He licks his lips and looks down at me.

"I enjoy teasing you too."

[ariesmoontarot]

The Honest Truth

—————————————

Hey everyone I hope you’re having a good day! So this reading is going to be different from my usual readings. I’m going to channel what the collective needs to hear without a specific topic being in mind. Take it how it resonates and leave what doesn’t. Enjoy!

—————————————

choose a number from 1-3 to pick your pile.

The Piles:

💙Pile One:

I feel like things are happening around you that are changing you as a person. Your whole life could be changing in every aspect and I just feel like there is something you’re questioning. You feel confused and doubting how you feel in this situation. I’m seeing a heavy heart. You feel overwhelmed, exhausted, & burdened by a situation you feel betrayed in. I feel like something happened that made you feel like you were left for the wolves and it’s pushing you to pull yourself together as best as you can. I see you trying to create a feeling of stability and independence but it’s been a hard and long journey to get to where you are right now and you’re doing it! Slowly but surely. All things come around in full circle. What you give is what you get and maybe you gave time, effort, and energy to a situation that didn’t happen the way you wanted, but it’s happening in the right time in the way that it’s supposed to. I feel like you’ve blocked someone or something from being able to reach you. You’re protecting yourself and standing on business. I feel like you aren’t letting anything or anyone affect the ambition and goals you have in mind no matter how much it hurts. You’re learning to have healthier boundaries and I feel like for a lot of you there’s a person you felt connected to emotionally and they could have lied or moved a certain way that inevitably made you feel the way you do. You’re questioning on whether or not this person or connection is really for you. I feel like things didn’t seem to work out for you guys because of the way they approached you. I feel like they let their fears and pride get in the way of things and they self sabotaged. They know going about things the way they do isn’t going to work with you and I feel like you’re upset with them. You’re a little mad to be honest. I feel like you’re giving them the silent treatment and completely closed off now. I see they do have feelings for you and you make them really happy. They feel emotionally invested with you and they want to try and come together to make things work, but it’s taking time and I feel like they’re procrastinating not taking any responsibility or steps to come towards you at all. They’re just sitting on how they feel and not expressing it. I see them trying to approach you with this opportunity to try again for something long term and it took a lot for this person to come towards you. They had to let go of alot of things and I feel like they are trying to feel confident with their approach. Something blew up in this persons face and I feel like it was the fact that you went ghost on them. You simply withdrew yourself and went your own way. I see them looking at the situation with anxiety and fear because they know they’ll be losing a good person if they don’t get their act together. I feel like right now you’re just focused on loving yourself and life. You have this lighthearted energy where you aren’t letting things really get to you. You acknowledge the uncomfortable feelings and keep it moving. I feel like you’re disappointed and hurt but you just keep it moving with this “naive” attitude. It’s not like you’re giving them the benefit of the doubt, but you’re definitely just acting ignorant like you don’t know the gameplay. You know things aren’t fair right now and I feel like you’re aware of everything that’s going on. You’re just observing and paying close attention to all the details. You’re watching them too, maybe on social media or something but however you see them you’re definitely gathering up all the facts and evidence needed to back up how you feel without it actually being said to you. It’s like you’re listening to your own truth and accepting how you feel for what it really is. It’s up to you what you want to do with the information you find, but I see a lot of you are about to or already went hermit. I feel guided to tell you to pick another pile after this one if you feel like you should.

💙Pile Two:

Hi pile 2! I feel like right now you’re a bit disappointed and sad over some spilled milk. You’re feeling some guilt for doing what is best for you. I feel like you have all that you need to change your circumstances within yourself. You just need to be determined, patient, and willing. Good things really do take time. Trials and tribulations will happen and that’s just life. You don’t learn to appreciate the good if there is no bad. I see someone keeping a close eye on you. Paying attention and maybe talking about you. It doesn’t have to be bad talk though. I just feel like they’re seeing you do you and talking about it with people they’re around or close to. I see you feeling inspired by this disappointment though. The hurt is inspiring you to change and take control over what you can and that is yourself. You’re putting an end to this feeling of sadness and guilt and turning it into something positive. I feel like you’re not stopping your life for nobody. You keep it pushing even when it’s hard to. You’ve grown so much as a person and I feel like this situation is only pushing you to do even better than you are! You aren’t waiting for anyone to come and save you or be the person that you need. You’re definitely giving someone the cold shoulder and letting them watch you. You don’t necessarily need anyone, but when a person is getting your time, care, and efforts I feel like you aren’t going to just let them walk all over you and not hold up their end of the line. You have standards, morals, & integrity. I feel like you don’t like the unnecessary drama or chaos and if someone is disrupting your peace you will gladly cut off all communication with them. I see you confidently enjoying yourself and resting assured all things will happen the way they should. You’re letting your actions and effort lead you and having faith that you accepting things and letting them just happen will align what and who is really meant for you. I just keep getting this energy of “wait for me”. I’m not sure who is wanting this but someone definitely is. Someone who loves and cares about you, but can’t give you what you need right now in whatever way that applies to you. They’re trying their best to hold onto you and not let you go. Even if it’s just watching you, not saying too much or anything but putting on this front like as if they’re fine. They’re being lighthearted and cold at the same time. It’s like they’re being really quiet not saying much, but definitely feeling a lot of emotion without letting you see too deeply. They know if they get too close they will fall in love with you. For some of you this could be a friend or someone you have history with. This person is up in their head not trying to say anything because they’re afraid or they feel like they just can’t do much because of where they are right now. They want to take the lead and you follow, but I feel like they need to come up with a plan or take the extra mile in order to even get to you because I don’t see you settling. You feel like the situation itself is too much drama and conflict. It’s a bit triggering for you because I feel like you’ve grown past all that type of energy. You’re completely blocked off to this person and I feel like they feel it. They know you shut them out of your life and it took a lot for you to do that as well.

💙Pile Three:

I feel like you’re working on multiple things in your life right now and one of those things is a connection you have with someone. I feel like you were offering your love and care to this person and they broke your trust. You feel like you lost your energy to even try anymore and the situation has gone draining and more of a setback than it is benefiting you. I feel like you just want things to be balanced and reciprocated, but instead it feels like you’re the only one trying and you’re tired. I feel like you don’t want to fight for this anymore. This person unexpectedly felt something for you and I feel like they didn’t feel prepared at all for that. They feel this calling to just hold onto you and not let you go. They keep trying to put in bits of effort to hold on to the connection but I feel like because of the way they’re showing up it seems like they don’t feel for you at all. They seem distracted or a bit closed off emotionally and it’s because they’re afraid of opening up. For some of you they’re afraid of their feelings for you. You might be wondering why this person keeps in contact with you at all but it’s because they feel like they need to take their time with things and be patient with the way things are going. You don’t want to go with the flow when you don’t know where that river leads to. I’m hearing “this is getting old” and “reaching for the stars”. I feel like you’re tired of the same old story and excuses. It just feels like this will never be good. You can feel that way or this person does. I just feel like the energy is giving pessimistic hopeless romantic. Feeling like there’s no hope of this ever working out and I feel like you’re ready to just move on and keep it pushing. You’re not dealing with inconsistent and immature behavior. This person isn’t on the same level as you emotionally and besides all the surface level and physical stuff, deep down they’re struggling. They don’t know how to handle their feelings and I feel like they may run from them. I’m getting a lot of messages about the ocean and water so emotions are definitely a big factor here. It feels like you were building on an unsteady foundation and it was almost as if you stepped into a building that was inevitably going to fall apart and the minute you stepped in it crumbled. That’s how this person heart feels. It’s like the minute they got too close things just started coming undone. I do see you speaking your mind to this person and being completely honest about how you feel and I feel like you told them what you needed and wanted out and it made them realize they want the same things their mind is just at war with their heart. They aren’t saying much to you and I feel like they could just be ignoring you and not saying anything at all because they know you just want nothing but clear and direct communication. You want everything straight forward and I feel like your standards are high so you aren’t accepting less than. You’re very intelligent and I feel like you see through any situation that seems unclear. You know the minute you’re being gaslighted or manipulated and I feel like whenever you start to second guess yourself and what you feel, you know something is up. You know this person isn’t quite sure on how they feel and I feel like you accepted what they gave you and ran with it. In the sense that you let them do what they want to do and you just observe and move accordingly. Either way you’re gonna do what’s best for you. This person is separated from you by fate. I feel like there is distance between you and it could be a lack of communication, physical or emotional distance, or all of the above. This is happening so they can understand things by themselves. They know deep down how they feel and it’s up to them whether or not they want to accept it. I don’t see you waiting around though. You’re doing what makes you happy and I feel like being stuck and confused is something you’re definitely not about to do and they know this because of what you said and did. You said what you said and you stand on that.

You meant everything you ever said to them and I feel like when you walked away they realized how serious you were. I seen something that said “If a woman likes you enough you don’t even have to lie to her, she will lie to herself.” Some of you could have been lying to yourself giving this person the benefit of the doubt, but then you decided you couldn’t do it anymore and just started being honest with yourself. Of course you don’t have to be a woman but generally speaking. This person could’ve been in another situation before you, that didn’t work out and maybe they seen a good opportunity with you just to have a person like you around. They could’ve attempted to fill the void that they feel with you. However, they underestimated you. But I just hear “I’m not dealing with this” from you and you walked away. Completely cut off contact and went about your life as you should. I just feel like this person feels stuck and that’s something they’re gonna have to figure out.

[geotjwrs]

Hey is it possible if you could do Jenna x male reader based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy? Thank you

only you babe

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet tension in the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, his phone clutched in his hand, his eyes staring blankly at the screen. It had been an hour since Jenna had texted, and her silence felt louder than anything else in his life right now.

"I think you know that I miss you…"

The lyrics echoed in his mind, but all he could focus on was the gnawing feeling in his gut—the one that told him something was wrong. He hadn’t heard from her since their last conversation, and now every passing second felt like a countdown to something he didn’t want to face.

He stood up, pacing the small apartment. He’d always had this fear, deep down, that Jenna might slip away. That one day, she would realize she didn’t need him. And lately, that fear had started to feel more real. The way she’d been distant, the way her messages came less frequently, it all pointed to something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"Something bad is ’bout to happen to me…"

The words from the song buzzed in his head, like a warning he couldn’t ignore.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. He knew he should call her, talk to her, ask her what was really going on. But every time he thought about it, that voice in the back of his mind whispered, What if she’s done? What if you push her away?

Just as he was about to give in to the anxiety, his phone buzzed. A message.

Jenna: “Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. He stared at the screen, his hands shaking slightly. Those words—“Can we talk?”—were never a good sign. He could feel the blood draining from his face, and the room suddenly felt too small, too hot.

He sat down again, his mind racing with every possible worst-case scenario. She was leaving, wasn’t she? She had found someone else, or maybe she had finally gotten tired of him. Y/N’s thoughts spiraled out of control, and before he could stop himself, he typed out a response.

Y/N: “Is everything okay?”

The seconds stretched into minutes, and still no response. Y/N stood up again, pacing even faster now, his palms sweaty as he waited for her reply. He couldn’t breathe. His mind was clouded with every possible thing that could go wrong.

"I think I’m losin’ it…"

He looked around the apartment, his gaze falling on the little things that reminded him of her. The jacket she’d left hanging on the back of his chair. The coffee mug she always used. The picture of the two of them sitting on the shelf, smiling like nothing in the world could ever come between them.

But now, Y/N wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been sure for a while, and it scared him more than anything.

Finally, his phone buzzed again. He snatched it up, his heart pounding in his chest as he read her message.

Jenna: “Yeah, but… I just feel like things have been off between us lately.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a lump form in his throat. He had known this was coming. He had felt it in every silence, in every missed call, in every time she had looked at him like she was seeing someone else. But hearing her say it, seeing it in black and white on his screen, made it real.

Y/N: “I know… I’ve felt it too.”

He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell her how scared he was, how much he loved her, how the thought of losing her made him feel like he was drowning. But he didn’t. Instead, he just waited, feeling like the walls were closing in around him.

An hour later, Jenna showed up at his door. She stood there, her arms crossed, looking at him with those dark eyes that had always been able to read him like a book. There was something different in them tonight, though—something he couldn’t quite place.

Y/N stepped aside, letting her in. They hadn’t talked in person for a couple of days, and the air between them felt heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice almost fragile as she walked past him.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, his throat tight. He closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a second before following her into the living room.

They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the space between them feeling much bigger than it had ever felt before. Y/N fidgeted with his hands, trying to come up with something to say, but his mind was blank.

Jenna looked at him, her expression soft but serious. “Y/N… I don’t know what’s been going on with us lately. But I can’t shake this feeling that something’s wrong.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything—about how terrified he was of losing her, how he’d been feeling this weight of uncertainty pressing down on him for weeks. But instead, he just nodded, afraid that if he said the wrong thing, he’d make everything worse.

“Me too,” he finally managed to say. “I’ve felt it too.”

Jenna sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want us to fall apart, Y/N. But lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore. Like we’re both just waiting for something bad to happen.”

Y/N’s heart sank. That was exactly how he had been feeling. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to say she was done with him. He hadn’t realized she was feeling the same way.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Y/N said, his voice cracking slightly. He hated how vulnerable he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. This was Jenna, the girl he had loved for longer than he could remember, and the thought of her walking out of his life was unbearable.

Jenna’s eyes softened at his words. She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we need to figure this out, Y/N. We can’t keep going on like this, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Y/N nodded, squeezing her hand tightly. “I know. I just… I’ve been so scared, Jenna. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you didn’t want this anymore. That you didn’t want me.”

Jenna’s expression softened even more, and she moved closer to him, her hand still gripping his. “Y/N… that’s not it. I love you. I always have. But we can’t keep letting fear control us. We need to talk to each other, not shut down every time things get hard.”

Y/N closed his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. She wasn’t leaving. She didn’t want to leave. But the fear, the doubt, had been eating him alive for weeks, and now that it was out in the open, he realized just how much it had been affecting them.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve been so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t realize I was pushing you away.”

Jenna shook her head, her thumb gently brushing over the back of his hand. “We’ve both been doing it. But it doesn’t have to be like this. We can fix this, Y/N. We just need to be honest with each other.”

Y/N nodded, finally meeting her gaze. “I want that. I want us to be okay.”

Jenna smiled softly, leaning in to press her forehead against his. “We will be. But we have to stop letting fear get in the way.”

They sat there like that for a while, their foreheads touching, the weight of their unspoken fears slowly lifting. The tension between them wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now, more manageable.

As the night wore on, Y/N realized that the dark cloud that had been hanging over them for so long was starting to fade. There were still things they needed to work through, still conversations they needed to have, but for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt like maybe they could make it through this.

And as he held Jenna close, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn’t going to let fear take her away from him. Not again.

[authorred]

Die With A Smile | Li Shen/Zayne x gn!Reader | Love and Deepspace

➺ Preface: After a particularly bad run-in with a wanderer, you're left essentially dying on site. You know this will not bode over well for a certain doctor-friend of yours, so you force yourself up and onwards. Both you and Zayne have to reconcile the fact that you almost died without seeing each other for almost a month.

➺ I know I already posted a song-fic for this song but goddammit I keep seeing edits for this shit on my fyp and I love this song so mf much that I can't myself ( I also have an unhealthy obsession with Zayne ).

Maybe I'll do a Sylus version??? However the hell I'll do that.

→ Song

Warning(s): Mentions of extensive wounds, blood

Oh god, Zayne is going to kill me.

Your skin is warm and sticky; a disconcerting feeling. What remains of your clothes is glued to your skin in blood and sweat, most of it yours. You don't know why, but for some reason, Wanderers love to dick with you as if you're a hot commodity. You were just trying to do your job as a Deepspace Hunter, which you succeeded at technically, but, now your injuries are catching up to you.

You're starting to feel lightheaded and stumbling on your feet. You don't know if you've broken any bones, but all you know is that every part of your body hurts and trying to blink takes all of your energy.

Goddammit, if Zayne sees me he's going to be so mad. Or sad. Or both. I didn't even text him today--I should've texted him.

You stumble from the remains of where the protocore field emerged. You can feel the warmth of your blood spilling down your leg and flooding your boots. It’s an absolutely unnerving sensation. You have to find a way to the hospital. You need to get help. You can’t die. Not like this. Not before you see Zayne.

~

You were going to kill him. No, not kill, perhaps that’s too far. But you were going to scold him, chastise him like a worried mother. Zayne has been pushing himself again, not taking breaks or sleeping for more than five hours. He’s been using the on-call rooms in Akso or sleeping in his office. He doesn’t know why he does this. Perhaps he’s stressed because you haven’t texted him in several days and he’s unknowing to your severe injuries. It’s a way to cope. Because if he didn’t, he’d go mad.

So why.

Why?

Why is he staring at several paramedics rolling you into the hospital, covered in blood and unconscious? Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Being reckless? Risking your life? Again?

He stands there, rooted to the linoleum, watching you be rolled into the OR for emergency surgery. He doesn’t know what’s wrong—eyeballing it he could tell you’re suffering from many lacerations. But what if there’s more? What if your heart is giving out?

It’s not until the hospital begins to settle again that he’s able to move. Swallowing thickly and moving like a ghost back to where he’s needed.

~

Hours pass—two hours, specifically. Zayne stands in your hospital room staring at your sleeping figure. Covered in bandages and bruises alike, his eyes are filled with trepidation belying fear and concern. The pain you must’ve went through to trek all the way to Akso Hospital—the amount of blood you lost. Too stubborn for your own good. He can’t linger, he has other duties to attend to. But he wants to—gods, he wants to.

Stepping up to the side of your bed, his hand reaches out. His fingertips brush against the palm of your hand, gently trailing them up your wrist and arm. Featherlight touches to prove you’re here, alive, breathing. His virescent eyes comb up and down your body. “How reckless,” he whispers. “And here I thought you were simply lost with no reception.”

No response, as he expected.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Zayne retracts his hand and places it back in his coat pocket. With one last lingering look, he turns and walks away from your hospital bed. He has work to finish, and you’re stabilized and alive. At least he’s assured in that regard. He can go on with the rest of his day without that aching, gnawing anxiety in his chest. It’s a relief, really.

~

When you wake up, you have no idea where you are at first. You’re completely disoriented and lost. You vaguely remember trying to navigate your way through a town on the outskirts of Linkon, and then after that, the memories are fuzzy.

You look to your side, your vision severely blurred. You can see a person sitting in the chair next to your bed, resting. You recognize the shape of their body immediately. “Zayne?” Comes your hoarse, weak voice. Even that’s enough to rouse him from his sleep—or maybe he wasn’t even fully asleep in the first place.

Zayne sits up straight when he sees you’re awake before standing. “Y/n,” he says, almost in surprise. “You’re awake. With the amount of sedatives in your body, you should still be asleep.”

“I can’t move my body,” you chuckle softly, but it sounds like a sad whimper instead. “Maybe that’s where they went. . .”

Zayne sighs at your attempt of jokes in your state. “Should I ask what happened this time?”

“I think you know.”

Zayne gazes down at you, his eyes slightly narrowed in worry. “You’re too reckless. Please, put some value on your life before we’re unable to fix you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. “But you don’t seem the best either. I can still see those dark circles even through my fucked up vision. You’ve been overworking again, haven’t you?”

Zayne shifts like a kid getting caught before looking away, “I take naps during the day so I can be productive at night. And I’ve been eating well and hydrating. Truly, it’s not that bad.”

“Those dark circles say otherwise.”

A moment passes before Zayne looks at you again. “You were too close this time,” he says. “Your life was in a precarious position. You’re lucky we had the personnel available.”

“I know,” you repeat. “I know. I—I’ll be honest, I didn’t think. . . I didn’t think I’d make it.”

Zayne’s expression drops suddenly, but he lets you talk.

“All I remember thinking is that I needed to get to a hospital, to get help, because if I didn’t, I’d regret it. Regret not texting you, seeing you. I wanted to see you one more time, at least.”

Zayne’s face twitches, and he resists the urge to reach out and touch you. You need space. Your body needs time to heal. “I see,” he replies softly. “Is that what gave you strength to crawl to the doors of the hospital?”

“Yes,” you nod softly. “At least, if I died here, I’d be near you. And that’s enough for me.”

Zayne doesn’t say anything immediately. “I would be. . . in pain if you died,” he says quietly, doing best to articulate his feelings without coming off as too much. “I would miss you greatly. Agonizingly.”

“Tomorrow is never promised,” you say, gazing at him with such affection and favor he feels lightheaded from holding your gaze. “But if I die—if I die next to you, with you. . . I wouldn’t change a thing. I would die happy and content. Knowing you’re there.”

Zayne swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down under his black dress shirt. “I believe it would be best if we promised each other. . . to not push ourselves too far.”

You chuckle softly, “Maybe. But whatever the case, I’m just happy you’re here.”

You add, “And when the day comes I do die, I’ll gladly die with a smile if you’re with me.”

[wings-of-ink]

One day MC walks up to their RO and asks: "Why do you think I love you?" What are the responses from Oswin and Rune? (Relationship stage)

Oh that is such a good question, Anon. Oof, the two that might have the hardest time with it too. Going to go with a semi-early relationship, say, within the first couple years for this. For all the characters there is an element of healing that they need. This question for these two ROs would be most impactful (emotional and hard to answer) earlier on in the relationship when they are very much still healing. This would be a good exercise for them to help healing, I think...so maybe a couple mini POVs are in order for this one. ^_^

Oswin:

He freezes.

You give him a moment to collect his thoughts, but find the moment doesn't quite pass. Oswin just stares at you. Gently, you cup his cheek in your hand, and he snaps from his stupor.

"You okay?" you ask.

He nods.

"Let's sit." You guide him to the seat by the fire as it crackles and pops. Instead of taking the seat opposite him, you kneel down and hold his hands upon his lap, staring into his eyes. You had a feeling he'd struggle with this.

He clears his throat. "The uh, floor is cold, love. Here, you sit, I'll-"

"Why do you think I love you?" you ask again. He won't get out of this again.

He breath stammers. He leans back in the chair and raises his gaze to the ceiling.

"I know you're still working on how you feel about everything, but I want you to really think about that and give me an honest answer."

Oswin sighs, turning his gaze from the ceiling back to you. His eyes are misty. "That's just it, I don't know what to think." His voice breaks around the words. "Most days I don't know why you want to love someone like me."

You nod. "But you let me, don't you? And I know you, Twinflower; you'd never let me love you if you didn't-"

He scoffs. "That's because I'm selfish."

You fix him with a slightly stern look. "I'm waiting for my answer. The real answer."

His bottom lip quivers for just a moment before he bites it. He takes a few minutes to consider his words. "I...think...I think you, um-love me because...you have a good heart."

You snort and pinch his thigh in the spot that makes him jump.

Even he can't remain serious at the sensation as he jerks and chuckles. "I'm not done...I'm getting there."

"Mm-hmm," you say.

"...It's because of your good heart...that you see...you see me at my best."

You nod.

"You see that...you don't see all the horrible things that I see in me."

You nod again. "So what are those things that I see that you don't? Why do I love you Oswin Twinflower?"

His legs begin to bounce in place, trying to soothe his discomfort. He takes a deep breath. "Um...I think you see, despite everything, loyalty." Another shaky breath. "Maybe you like the old pieces of me - from when we were kids...the parts of me that are still carefree, that laugh easy. And I think...I think you like that I'm grumpy though too..." He trails off, his legs still bouncing. His eyes glance to you, but can't hold your gaze for very long at a time.

"Good." You smile. "That's good Oswin, you're doing so well. There are so many reasons that I love you, and one day you're going to know them all by heart."

A strangled sob escapes his lips.

Rune:

Rune fumbles the freshly washed and dried cups at your question. They clatter and roll along the counter. You briefly catch the flicker of surprise on Rune's face before they snatch up the cups and right them next to the other clean dishes.

Turning back to the sink, Rune carries about the task of rinsing and drying the remaining dinnerware that you have washed. "What do you mean?" They ask.

"It's not a trick question or anything," you say. "I just want you tell me why you think I love you."

Rune chuckles in the way you've come to know as a sign that they are uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter why, just that you do." Rune turns and gives you a placating smile before turning their back again and focusing on the dishes.

"That may be true to a point, but not why I asked and you know it." You watch them a moment. You worry. Rune is not typically unnerved so quickly, and they have always been forthright about your relationship. You've had the feeling recently that a heaviness has been on Rune's heart, old wounds opening back up.

You come up to the sink and watch Rune dry the same plate they've been working on for the last few minutes. "Hun, I think it's dry."

Rune snaps to attention again. "Oh, yes - of course."

"Do you want me to finish up?" you ask.

"Oh, no sweet one. It's my turn and you cooked...I want to finish up. Get settled in the den why don't you. I'll be there shortly."

You nod and make your way there to settle on the couch. If there is one thing you have learned about being Rundis Lyreheart's lover and partner, it is that the more space you give them, the closer they come. Rune always hears you and always pays attention even when it may seem like you're being ignored. You could ask your question again, but that would be pushing. You trust that Rune will answer.

In just a few moments, Rune joins you, removing the smock they use for kitchen duty and hanging it to dry by the fireplace. You chuckle when you realize it is nearly soaked through. You wonder if Rune will ever be able to take care of the dishes and end up dry at the end.

They settle next to you, and you realize they've brought the lyre. Rune looks at you deeply with those bright purple eyes you've come to love so much.

They sigh. "I am sorry that I tried to avoid your question earlier."

You nod. "It's okay. You do that sometimes."

Rune quirks an eyebrow at you.

You shrug. "You deflect the really hard stuff, and then you circle back later after you've had some time to think."

They cover their face with a hand. "Blessed Casimir, you really know me..."

You cannot help the smug smile on your face.

Rune takes a deep breath. "I can't answer your question, not without...some time - not with words. But...I can answer, with this." They hold the lyre up. "If you'll indulge a song."

"Always." You settle back in your seat.

After a few practice notes, Rune begins to pluck the strings in earnest. The melody fills the house, starting off slow, sweet and soft before it becomes...darker, more somber. Rune meets your eyes and smiles as the tune lifts, bringing happy energy to the undercurrent of dark notes. You can't wait to see how the song grows and changes...

[fxirybun]

🪷 PAC: your platonic soulmate’s personality

this is a collective reading ! take what resonates and leave what doesn't. i cannot guarantee 100% accuracy. take the pac reading lightly ჱ̒ ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )

ෆ⸒⸒ pile one 🥀

hello there pile one ! your platonic soulmate is someone who's giving a bad bitch energy and doesn't allow themselves to be taken for granted. whoever this person is i feel that they have a powerful energy within them , it's like if someone wants to bully you your platonic soulmate is more than ready to throw their hands at them lol.

i can see that their tongue is as sharp as a knife , a metaphor for how direct their words are and how others would think that your platonic soulmate is very harsh or domineering. they're outspoken and aren't afraid to voice out their opinions since they believe that their statement holds truth in it.

this person has a confident presence within themselves and i'm getting that they may be into manifestation. it's as if they can turn all their ideas into tangible plans because they have this inner willpower to create those opportunities and they have the right equipment to turn their desires into a reality. due to them having a wide variety of skills , people are jealous of them and would do the means to bring your platonic soulmate down.

this doesn't stop them though 'cause they're the kind of person who seems to thrive in a competitive environment. it allows them to exert more bold effort since your platonic soulmate wants to prove their enemies wrong.

ෆ⸒⸒ pile two 🪻

hi , pile two ! i'm getting a hint that your platonic soulmate may have gone through a terrible heartbreak in their life and how it brought them a baggage of emotional pain. this experience made them more cautious when letting someone enter their life. regardless of past wounds , they know how to deal with this lingering pain through means of healing. it also allows your platonic soulmate to be wiser and more empathetic.

i feel that they're someone who has a layered personality , similar to an onion. in addition , this person is presumably able to face any havoc that will come their way. they can be both compassionate and courageous simultaneously and how they are being perceived as a source of support for others due to their encouraging words.

they seem to be the kind of person who appreciates forming a mutual connection with others. i sensed that your platonic soulmate is currently in the process of learning to let go of the heaviness that they've been carrying in their back. whoever this person is , they seem to tend to take too many responsibilities that lead them to overcommit.

the good news here is that this person is releasing all this pressure that they're feeling because they're striving to create a balanced life where they are not overwhelmed. they garnered the strength to withstand the mist.

ෆ⸒⸒ pile three 🦋

hello , pile three ! i can see that your platonic soulmate is someone who just goes with the flow. their personality reminded me of that one student in class who's labeled as the "joker" due to how unhinged or funny their jokes are lmao. they love to spread positivity to the people around them including the environment itself , making them the kind of friend who is fun to be around.

this person is not afraid to explore the unknown just so they can go on board for new experiences , not allowing fear to gain control over them. despite their carefree personality , your platonic soulmate knows how to be serious when it is needed , especially in situations that are not for the fainted heart. this person is aware of balancing their free-spirited nature and their mature side when it comes to confidential matters.

i feel that your platonic soulmate is someone who cares deeply about their loved ones , especially those who are considered dear to them. they have this gentle approach and seem to know how to comfort someone in troubled times. this person is an expert in trying to connect to someone on an emotional level.

i kept hearing the lyrics "you've got a friend in me" from the movie toy story and how it resonates with this reading about your platonic soulmate. you can always rely on them , pile three ! as i'm getting this ride or die , bonnie and clyde , best friends for life dynamic.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Cherry Lips.

Summary: You spend one night with world famous musician Remy Lebeau and everything changes.

Warnings: Daddy kink, Choking, Spanking, Swearing, Smut. 18+

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

You roll your eyes, and there it fucking is. The most useless sentence in the history of humankind. Right up there with, “We’ll call you right back.”

You glance over at him—his pale blue eyes darting everywhere except toward you as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the tiny, cramped café. The table between you feels like a mile-wide chasm, and yet, somehow, not far enough. You raise an eyebrow, half in disbelief, half in disgust.

“Oh, I know it’s not me,” you say, letting your voice drip with a sarcasm you don’t bother to mask. “It’s Hannah McCoy down the road, isn’t it?”

Six years.

Six whole fucking years boiled down to cheap coffee and a line. One goddamn sentence.

He shifts again, more uncomfortable than before, his hand fidgeting with the napkin as if it’ll give him some kind of answer he’s too much of a coward to say out loud. You can see it—he’s stalling. Trying to find a way to make himself look less like the asshole that he is.

“It wasn’t meant to happen,” he says finally, his voice weak, like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. “She was just... there. And she gets me, you know?” His words are lame, hollow, and all the more infuriating because he actually thinks they’re enough.

You laugh—a short, humorless sound that feels more like a release of pent-up rage than anything else. “Oh, she gets you?” you echo, your voice rising a little. “What am I, a fucking puzzle you couldn’t solve?”

He flinches, but he doesn’t deny it. Instead, he stares at the table, his fingers still twisting that stupid napkin into knots. “We’re just... not compatible,” he mutters, as if that explains everything. As if that suddenly makes it all okay.

You narrow your eyes at him, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “You mean I’m not compatible with your bullshit,” you snap. “Just admit it—you’ve been trying to fuck her for months. Did you think I was too stupid to notice?”

He doesn’t answer, and that silence is all the confirmation you need. Anger burns hot and fast in your veins, but underneath it, there’s something else—a deep, bitter ache. Six years. You gave him six years of your life, and now you're sitting in this shitty café as he offers nothing but weak excuses and even weaker apologies.

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat and forcing himself to meet your eyes for a fleeting second. “Those tickets to the concert tonight... keep them. Go with Nat or someone. She’d probably love it.”

You almost laugh again, but this time it’s too absurd to even entertain. “Oh, I’m going,” you say, voice sharp as a knife. “Whether you’re there or not. I paid good money for those tickets, so don’t act like you’re doing me any favors.”

You take a sip of the coffee just to do something with your hands, but it’s as bitter as you feel, and you pull a face. Of course. Even the fucking coffee is shit.

He nods, like this conversation is some kind of negotiation that’s finally being settled. Like you’re both just two rational people agreeing to part ways, when in reality, he’s ripping apart everything you’ve built together. There’s nothing left to say, except—

“I’ll organize a trailer to come get my stuff tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face saying everything: Yeah, you fucking better. You don’t want to see him again, don’t want to hear his voice or catch even a glimpse of his blond hair in the doorway. Tomorrow, it’ll all be gone. And good riddance.

Pushing back your chair, you stand up and toss a few bills onto the table, more than enough to cover your coffee. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder, and then lean down just slightly, enough so he can feel the gravity of your words.

“And by the way,” you say, your voice low and cold, “the coffee here tastes like shit.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn on your heel and walk out of the café, your footsteps steady and sure, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

Tonight, you’ll go to the concert—Remy LeBeau live at the old warehouse downtown. The tickets you bought months ago, back when you thought you’d be going together, back when you didn’t know your relationship was already on its slow, agonizing descent.

But now, it’s just you. And you’ll go. And you’ll scream the lyrics if you have to. Because you paid for those tickets with your own damn money, and there’s no way in hell you’re going to let him ruin the one thing you’ve been looking forward to for months.

The door to the café swings shut behind you, and for the first time in a long time, you feel something close to freedom. <><><><><> "So he really just did that, huh?" Nat says, almost incredulous, as she runs a straightener through her fiery red hair. Each strand falls smoothly over her shoulder, contrasting sharply with the black band tee she’s wearing. Meanwhile, you sit on the edge of the bed, focused on pulling your black fishnet stockings over your legs, the faint snap of the fabric a sharp punctuation to the conversation.

You nod, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. "Yep. Pulled the whole ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit too."

You stand up, reaching for the pair of black booty shorts lying on the bed next to you. The cool fabric slides easily over the stockings as you adjust them, making sure they sit just right. You catch Nat’s eyes in the mirror as she pauses, mid-straighten.

"Hannah McCoy," she says, her tone flat, almost clinical, as if she’s diagnosing an obvious problem. "She’s the blue-haired girl on your corner, right? Goes to college in town?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "That would be her," you reply, grabbing your eyeliner and starting your makeup routine. Your reflection looks back at you, the same you, but tonight’s different. Tonight, you want to look like someone who’s ready to burn the world down. Or at least, burn away the memory of your ex.

Nat’s phone buzzes on the dresser. She picks it up, scrolling through her feed with a frown before tossing the phone toward you.

"Take a look at this," she says, her voice laced with a kind of cautious sympathy. "Looks like she’s going to be there tonight with ‘someone special.’" Her finger hovers over the image, zooming in on a guy’s hand. "Whose tattoo does that look like?"

Your stomach twists as you glance down at the screen. The photo shows Hannah McCoy, grinning ear to ear, her lips pressed against a man’s hand. But it’s not just any hand. It’s one you’ve held countless times. One you’ve traced with your fingers. And that tattoo, the one in familiar looping script? You had paid for that tattoo on your second anniversary.

Your ex’s tattoo.

You feel a surge of anger rise in your chest. “Oh, the universe fucking hates me, I swear,” you mutter, tossing the phone back toward Nat. “The audacity of knowing I’m going to be there and still taking the woman you left me for is... ballsy.”

Nat shrugs, but there’s a glint of anger in her eyes on your behalf. "I’m more impressed he managed to get tickets this late. I thought they were all sold out."

"Obviously planning this one for months then," you comment, rolling your eyes as you start blending your eyeshadow. Months. Months of fake smiles, distant conversations, and a growing gap you both refused to talk about. It wasn’t that you were heartbroken over the breakup—you’d felt the relationship fizzling out for a while now. The spark had died sometime last year. Maybe even earlier than that, if you were honest with yourself.

But this? This was an entirely different kind of hurt. The fact that he had the nerve to not only break up with you but to bring the woman he cheated with to a concert he knew you were going to be at? It felt like a slap in the face. Like he wanted to gloat, to show off what he’d traded you for.

It wasn’t the breakup that stung. It was the sheer gall of how he was doing it.

"Does he think I’m just going to sit there and pretend they don’t exist?" you mutter, applying a deep red lipstick with more force than necessary. "Like, what, I’m supposed to be okay watching them together? He’s really trying to rub this in my face."

Nat finishes her hair and turns to face you, her expression softening. She walks over, picking up a bottle of perfume from the nightstand. With a gentle hand, she sprays a light mist over you, the scent filling the room as she leans in, resting her chin on your shoulder. Her reflection in the mirror grins mischievously.

"Well, you scrub up damn fine," she says with a wink. "And you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

You laugh, rolling your eyes but feeling a little lighter. "Yeah, because that always works out perfectly," you reply, but a small smile tugs at your lips. You’re not looking for a rebound tonight. You’re not even looking to get over him, because deep down, you already are. What you’re looking for is to reclaim something for yourself.

You glance over at the concert tickets sitting on your dresser, the cheap paper so full of promise just a few weeks ago. Remy LeBeau, live in town, the rock concert you’d been excited about for months, back when you thought you’d be going with your ex.

But now? Now it’s just you and Nat. And maybe that’s exactly what you need.

"Fuck him," you say, standing taller and adjusting your shirt as you finish the last swipe of mascara. "Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about me. And damn it, I’m going to have a good time."

Nat grins, stepping back and giving you an approving once-over. "That’s the spirit. Let’s make tonight one to remember."

And as you grab your jacket and head for the door, you know one thing for sure: whatever happens tonight, you’re walking in there on your own terms. <><><><><><><> Crowded.

That was probably the only word that could remotely describe the scene in front of you. A shoulder-to-shoulder sea of leather, fishnet, black band tees, combat boots, and patches sewn onto worn-out denim jackets. The crowd seemed endless, bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy bass thumping through the massive speakers. It was as if the entire city had poured into this venue, all drawn to the electric energy of the night. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, alcohol, and the faint burn of cigarette smoke from someone sneaking a smoke break in the corner.

The venue itself was a cavernous, industrial space—an old warehouse repurposed into a music hall. Exposed beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and metal railings lined the second-floor balcony where people leaned over, drinks in hand, watching the stage below. The walls were painted in dark, muted colors, and the dim lighting only served to heighten the sense of anticipation. Neon signs flickered above the bar, casting a ghostly glow across the crowd, while the stage at the far end of the room was bathed in deep reds and purples, waiting for the main act to start.

Nat held your hand tightly as she wove her way through the throng of people, her grip a lifeline in the chaos. You followed closely behind her, trying to keep pace, though your eyes kept darting over the crowd, searching, whether you wanted them to or not. It was ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were scanning for that familiar flash of blue hair—her hair.

You hated that you were doing it. Hated that even here, in the middle of what was supposed to be your night, you were still thinking about them. About him and her. And of course, Nat knew. She always knew. She didn’t even have to say anything; she just gave your hand an extra squeeze, her silent way of telling you she understood.

She always understands, you think. Nat knows you better than you know yourself most days.

Finally reaching the bar, Nat let go of your hand and flagged down the bartender. The music was loud- Someone’s voice already blaring through the speakers as the opening band wrapped up their final song—but even over the noise, you could hear Nat’s shout. "Two shots of tequila!" she ordered, not bothering to ask if you wanted one. She knew you did.

You leaned against the bar, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at you since you walked in. It was stupid to let him—and her—invade your mind like this. It wasn’t like you were heartbroken anymore. The relationship had been dead for months, and you knew it. But here, tonight, knowing they were somewhere in the crowd at the same concert you’d been looking forward to for weeks? It felt like a sick cosmic joke.

The thought made your stomach twist. You wanted to have fun tonight, to let loose and forget about him. About them. But all you could think about was the fact that they might be here, just a few feet away, holding hands like you used to, maybe even in the same spot you and he had planned to stand.

"Here," Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts as she handed you a shot. "To assholes who don’t deserve your energy," she said, raising her glass.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "To assholes," you repeated, clinking your glass against hers before throwing the shot back. The tequila burned its way down your throat, but it was exactly what you needed. A little fire to match the one brewing in your chest.

The music shifted as the opening band finished their set, and the energy in the room changed. The lights dimmed, and the crowd began to buzz with anticipation. You turned toward the stage, watching as the roadies scurried around, setting up for Remy LeBeau. You could feel the excitement building, the air practically vibrating with it.

And then, the lights flashed once, twice, and a single spotlight hit the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers and screams as Remy himself stepped out, swaggering to the microphone with a confidence that could only belong to a rockstar. His presence was magnetic—dark hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, a leather jacket slung over his shoulders, and his voice... oh, his voice.

Deep. Gritty. Raw.

It thundered through the venue, shaking the very walls as he belted out the opening lines of his first song. The crowd surged forward, bodies pressed even closer together, arms raised, hands reaching for the stage. The bass pounded in your chest, the drums a steady heartbeat that seemed to sync with the pulse of the crowd. You could feel the music in your bones, vibrating through your skin, drowning out every other thought.

Nat handed you another drink, this time a beer, and you took it gratefully, letting the cold liquid wash away the heat from the shot. You both stood there at the bar, watching the stage, the music wrapping around you like a cocoon. For a moment, you forgot about him. You forgot about her. It was just you, Nat, and the music.

"God, he’s so fucking good live," Nat shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with excitement as she sipped her drink.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. Yeah, he was good. Really good. And for the first time tonight, you felt yourself relax, even if only a little.

But still, there was that nagging thought in the back of your mind. You glanced around the venue again, scanning the crowd. It wasn’t that you were upset about the breakup itself. You’d moved past that. What pissed you off was that he had the nerve to bring her here. To the concert you were supposed to go to. It felt like a deliberate move, like he wanted you to see them together, to rub it in your face.

Nat caught you looking around and rolled her eyes. "Stop it," she said, nudging you with her elbow. "They don’t matter. You matter. And tonight is about having fun, okay?"

You took a deep breath and nodded. She was right. She was always right.

"Okay," you said, offering her a small smile. "I’m done. I swear."

"Good," she replied with a grin, taking another swig of her drink. "Because tonight, we’re here to get drunk, scream along to some killer music, and remind you exactly who the fuck you are."

As Remy’s voice echoed through the venue, the music engulfing both of you, you decided that maybe—just maybe—you could let yourself enjoy this. You were here for you. For Nat. For the music. Not for him. Not for her. It was halfway through the fourth song, the chorus echoing through the packed venue, when you saw it. That unmistakable flash of blue hair cutting through the crowd like a knife. Your heart, which had been pounding with the rhythm of the music, suddenly felt like it had missed a beat.

And there he was—right behind her, laughing, his flushed cheeks glowing under the stage lights. His arm was casually draped around her shoulder, the same way it used to rest around yours, and the sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach. The tequila and beer you’d been enjoying just minutes earlier suddenly felt too heavy, like a stone sinking in your gut.

You and Nat had been singing along, swaying to the music, your voices blending with the hundreds of others around you. It had been a good moment. No, it had been a great moment. You were finally letting go, letting the music take you somewhere far away from him, from them. But now, that bubble had popped, and the reality of seeing them together, in your space, shattered the fragile sense of peace you’d been clinging to.

They were making their way toward you, pushing through the mass of bodies with casual arrogance. You could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes when he saw you—his steps faltering just for a moment before he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She paused too, her gaze finally landing on you, and for a brief second, you could see the hesitation in her face. But then they kept moving, like they had every right to be in your orbit.

You raised your drink to your lips, taking a large, deliberate sip, trying to calm the surge of anger rising in your chest. It hadn’t even been a full day. Not even twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from you in that dingy café and called it quits. And now here he was, parading her around like some kind of victory lap.

The audacity, the fucking audacity of it all, made your blood boil. You weren’t heartbroken—no, that wasn’t it. You’d been ready for the end. What you weren’t ready for was this. Him, swinging her around like a prize, like he hadn’t just destroyed six years of history and walked away like it was nothing.

Nat saw it too—the way your grip tightened on your glass, the way your jaw clenched as they got closer. She didn’t say anything, but you caught the look she shot you out of the corner of your eye. She knew that glint in your eyes, knew what it meant. It was the same look you got right before you were about to do something reckless. Or, more accurately, something that was probably going to get you both kicked out of the venue.

"You okay?" Nat asked, her voice low, but she didn’t need to. She already knew the answer.

Before you could respond, they were standing right in front of you. Him and her. The blue-haired girl who had been a shadow in the background of your life for months, and now was front and center, arm-in-arm with your ex.

"Hey," he said, because of course he would. His voice was casual, like he wasn’t standing there with the woman he’d emotionally cheated on you with, like he hadn’t just blown up your entire relationship less than a day ago. "Didn’t think I’d see you here."

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a thin, dangerous line. Didn’t think I’d see you here? The nerve of him acting like this was some kind of chance meeting, like he hadn’t known exactly where you’d be tonight. The tickets had been your idea in the first place. He knew. He fucking knew.

Nat shifted beside you, her hand subtly brushing against your arm like a warning, but you were already too far gone. That anger, that bitterness, it was bubbling up faster than you could control it, and there was no way in hell you were going to let this slide.

"Really?" you replied, your voice sweet with an edge of venom. "Didn’t think you’d see me here? At the concert I bought tickets for? The one we were supposed to go to together?"

He had the decency to at least look uncomfortable. She, on the other hand, just stood there, her blue hair framing her face, her expression unreadable. You weren’t even mad at her, not really. This was his mess.

"Look, I didn’t want it to be weird—" he started, but you were already done.

Without saying a word, you lifted your drink, the cold condensation dripping down your fingers, and poured it over his head. The liquid splashed over his blond hair, soaking into his shirt, and for a split second, the entire world seemed to go silent. His mouth dropped open in shock, and the people around you gasped, some even laughing as they realized what had just happened.

Nat’s eyes went wide, but you could see the admiration behind her surprise. She knew this was coming, and honestly? So did you.

"Oops," you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Guess I didn’t see you there."

You didn’t wait for him to respond. You grabbed Nat’s hand and spun on your heel, pulling her away from the bar, away from them, and into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the two of you practically sprinted toward the back of the venue, weaving your way through the sea of people.

By the time you stopped, both of you were breathless, and Nat was laughing so hard she had to lean against a nearby wall to catch her breath. "Holy shit," she gasped between giggles, wiping a tear from her eye. "That was... that was fucking epic."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension in your chest finally releasing as you leaned against her, the two of you a giggling mess. It felt good. It felt really good. For the first time all night, you felt like you had control over something. You weren’t just reacting. You were choosing how this night was going to go. And if that meant getting a little messy, so be it.

As your laughter finally started to die down, you glanced back toward the stage, still riding the high of the moment. And that’s when you saw him—Remy. He was looking straight at you from the stage, his dark eyes locked onto yours. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face, like he’d seen the whole thing, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

For a second, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you—his grin, your flushed cheeks, and the thrum of the music vibrating in the air around you. There was something in his gaze, something that made your pulse quicken again, but not in anger this time. No, this was different.

Nat nudged you with her elbow, a knowing smirk on her face. "Looks like someone’s got an admirer," she teased.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin on your own face was impossible to hide. Maybe this night wasn’t so bad after all. The concert had ended, but the adrenaline from the night still buzzed through your veins like an electric current. You and Nat were stumbling out of the packed venue, laughing uncontrollably, replaying the entire night’s events in your heads. The music still echoed in your ears, and your bodies still thrummed with the energy of the crowd, the lights, and that moment when you’d dumped your drink over your ex’s head. It had been perfect—like something out of a movie—and you couldn’t stop laughing at the sheer audacity of it all.

"Did you see his face?" Nat cackled, leaning against you as you both pushed through the departing crowd. "Like, I don’t think he’s ever been so shocked in his life. You actually—" she paused, wiping a tear from her eye, "—you fucking drowned him!"

You were still giggling, the satisfaction blooming in your chest. "I mean, he deserved it. Who brings the girl they cheated with to the same concert as their ex? I did him a favor, honestly." Nat was about to respond when you both noticed the man pushing his way through the sea of people toward you. He was hard to miss: a burly, balding guy in a black shirt, wearing a lanyard and an earpiece, the telltale signs of venue security. The sight of him was enough to send a jolt of panic through your body, and you instinctively grabbed Nat’s arm.

You exchanged a look—both of you wide-eyed with matching oh shit expressions. There was no way this wasn’t about what had just happened at the bar. Shit, shit, shit.

"Uh, what do we do?" you whispered under your breath, trying to calculate your chances of slipping away unnoticed. But it was too late. The security guard had already spotted you.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he sized you up, clearly annoyed but not quite angry. He exhaled sharply and jerked his head toward the back of the venue. "Come with me," he said, his voice gruff, leaving no room for argument.

You and Nat exchanged another glance, this time your heart sinking. Oh, great. Here we go. You opened your mouth to protest, trying to play it cool. "Uh, yeah, I don’t really go anywhere with strange men. Learned that one a long time ago."

The security guard rolled his eyes so hard you worried they might get stuck. "Mr. LeBeau wants to see you," he said, his voice low but firm, like he had better things to do than argue with you.

That stopped you cold. "What?" you said, blinking, any thoughts of running or playing dumb immediately evaporating. Your brain tried to catch up with the words, but they didn’t make sense. "Mr. LeBeau" as in... Remy LeBeau? The Remy LeBeau who had been up on stage not twenty minutes ago, singing his heart out, making the entire venue lose their minds?

Nat’s eyes widened as she grabbed your arm. "Wait, wait, wait," she said, clearly as stunned as you were. "Like, Remy Remy? The guy we just watched? Wants to see... us?"

The security guard gave a curt nod, clearly unimpressed by your confusion. "Yeah. He saw what you did at the bar." He smirked a little, like he couldn’t help but be amused by the whole situation. "Said it was the highlight of his night."

Your heart was pounding now, but for an entirely different reason. You could still picture Remy’s face from earlier, that moment after you’d drenched your ex. He’d been singing, but he’d seen you—grinning down from the stage with a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he was in on the joke. And now he wanted to see you. You.

Nat was already tugging at your arm. "Holy shit, we have to go," she whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement. "Are you kidding me? The man himself wants to meet you!"

Your mind was spinning, a dizzy mix of excitement and disbelief swirling in your chest. You couldn’t help but feel like this was some kind of fever dream. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting in a café getting dumped by your ex, and now... now you were about to meet a rockstar. The rockstar.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Okay," you said, your voice shaky but determined. There was no way you were going to pass this up. Not after everything that had happened tonight. "Okay, let’s go."

The security guard turned on his heel and led the way, weaving through the last remnants of the crowd as you and Nat followed closely behind. You could feel your heart racing, your palms slightly sweaty as you tried to process what was about to happen.

"Remy LeBeau," Nat whispered, half to herself, half to you, as you walked. "Dude, what the hell is even happening right now?"

"I have no idea," you muttered, glancing down at your outfit, suddenly feeling both excited and self-conscious. The adrenaline from earlier was still humming through your veins, but now it had turned into something else. Nerves. Anticipation.

The security guard stopped at a door near the back of the venue, nodding to another guard who waved you through without hesitation. You stepped inside, and the noise of the venue faded behind you, replaced by the quieter, more intimate hum of the backstage area. The walls were lined with posters and equipment cases, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke and sweat lingering in the air.

And then, there he was.

Remy LeBeau.

He stood near the back of the room, leaning casually against a table as if he hadn’t just performed in front of hundreds of people. His dark hair was still damp with sweat, and he had a half-smile on his lips, that same mischievous look in his eyes that you’d noticed from the stage. He was just as magnetic up close as he had been from afar, his presence filling the room without even trying.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Th’ girl who made my night." His eyes flicked over to Nat, acknowledging her but clearly focused on you. "An’ her partner in crime, I assume?"

You couldn’t help but smile, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside of you. "Uh, yeah, that was... me," you said, trying to play it cool but knowing full well you were probably failing miserably.

Remy chuckled, the sound low and warm, and pushed off the table, walking toward you with an easy confidence. "I got’ta say," he continued, "I’ve seen a’lo’ of crazy shit in my time, but tha’..." He shook his head, grinning. "Tha’ was somethin’ special."

Nat nudged you, her eyes wide with excitement, and you could feel your face flush with a mix of pride and embarrassment. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little breathless. "It felt pretty damn good."

Remy raised an eyebrow, still smiling. "Y’re a firecracker, aren’ y’?" He glanced between you and Nat, then back at you. "I like tha’."

For a moment, you just stood there, not entirely sure what to say. This was surreal. You were standing in front of Remy LeBeau, who had not only witnessed your dramatic confrontation with your ex but had actually enjoyed it. And now he was talking to you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

Nat, as usual, broke the silence first. "So, uh, what now?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Remy tilted his head, still watching you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, I wa’ thinkin’," he said slowly, "y’ two seem like the kin’a girls who know how t’ have a good time. And I’m not quite ready for the night t’ end." He flashed a grin. "What do y’ say we grab a drink? My treat."

Your heart skipped a beat. This night just kept getting more and more unbelievable. You glanced at Nat, who was practically vibrating with excitement, and then back at Remy.

"Yeah," you said, a smile spreading across your face. "We’d love that." The night had a dreamlike quality to it, a hazy mix of laughter, music still buzzing in your ears, and the steady pulse of alcohol warming your veins. You and Nat found yourselves sitting with the band long after most of the crowd had cleared out, the afterglow of the concert still lingering in the air. Empty bottles were strewn across the table, and the conversation was flowing easily, Nat animatedly explaining something to the drummer and bassist, her hands gesturing wildly, drawing out laughter from everyone around her.

But even amidst the easy banter, the shared stories, and the laughter, you could feel it—him. Remy’s eyes on you. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, like a heat that lingered on your skin. You were talking to the guitarist about some band you’d both seen live a few years ago, your conversation relaxed and casual, but every so often, you’d glance up, and there he’d be. Watching you.

Remy LeBeau.

There was something about him that pulled people in, a quiet magnetism that didn’t demand attention so much as command it. He wasn’t the type to shout or make a spectacle of himself, but when his eyes locked on you, it was as if everything else in the room faded away. He didn’t need to do anything more than smirk, that small, knowing curve of his lips, and it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just because he was a rockstar—though that certainly didn’t hurt. No, it was something deeper. Something in the way he carried himself, like he knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it.

And now, he was watching you, that same smirk playing on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. You tried to focus on what the guitarist was saying, but it was impossible to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, the flutter in your stomach every time you caught Remy’s gaze.

It wasn’t long before Remy made his way over to you, slipping into the seat beside you with a kind of effortless grace. The guitarist gave him a nod and, sensing the shift in energy, excused himself to grab another drink, leaving you alone with Remy.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room was still buzzing with energy, Nat’s laughter ringing out from across the table as she leaned into the drummer, her legs now casually draped over his thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles along her calves. You smiled at the sight of her, happy that she was enjoying herself. But when you turned back to Remy, your breath caught in your throat. He was closer now, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering hints of sweat from the concert.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else. Just you.

"Y’ having a good nigh’?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushed against your skin.

You nodded, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden rush of nerves. "Yeah. Better than I expected, honestly."

"Tha’ so?" He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Didn’ think y’d end up backstage with a bunch of rockstars, huh?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No, definitely didn’t see that coming. I thought I’d spend the night drowning in cheap drinks and bad memories. Maybe even getting arrested for assault after the bar incident," You glanced briefly at Nat, still lost in her own world, then back at him. "But this... this is way better."

Remy’s eyes softened for a moment, his smirk giving way to something a little more genuine. "Good. Y’ deserve better th’ bad memories and shit ex-boyfrien’s."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the tequila or the way his voice wrapped around the words like a promise, but suddenly, the room felt smaller, the space between you and him charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. "So, you always invite girls backstage who pour drinks on their exes?" you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Remy chuckled, leaning back slightly, but his eyes never left yours. "No’ always. But y’... well, y’ caught my attention."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a spark of boldness rise within you. "Oh yeah? What was it? The drink? The fishnets?"

He grinned, his eyes darkening slightly as he tilted his head. "Maybe it was the way y’ didn’ let him get th’ last word. Or maybe it’s th’ way you carry y’self, like y’ve got fire in y’." His voice lowered, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "I like that."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. You could feel the tension, thick and palpable, hanging between you like a thread waiting to snap.

You glanced down at your drink, suddenly aware of how close he was, how his leg was brushing against yours under the table. The room was still full of people, but it felt like the two of you were in a bubble, separate from everything else. Your pulse quickened, and when you looked back up at him, you could tell from the look in his eyes that he felt it too.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretches out endlessly, where you’re not sure what’s going to happen but you know something is. You could feel the question lingering in the air—unspoken, but loud enough to drown out everything else.

And then, as if the decision had already been made, Remy leaned in just slightly, his voice low and rough. "Y’ wanna get out of here?"

It wasn’t a question so much as an invitation, one that hung between you like a challenge. Your heart was pounding now, your palms slightly sweaty as you held his gaze. You knew what he was asking, knew exactly where this was going. And despite the chaos of the night, despite the whirlwind of emotions that had started with seeing your ex, there was no hesitation in your mind.

You wanted this.

You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Remy’s smirk deepened, and without another word, he stood up, offering you his hand. You glanced over at Nat, who was still wrapped up with the drummer, her legs now fully draped across his lap, lost in her own world. She caught your eye for a brief moment and gave you a knowing grin, mouthing, Go.

You took Remy’s hand, letting him guide you through the backstage corridors, the noise of the room fading behind you as you walked. The air felt cooler as you moved away from the crowd, but the heat between the two of you only intensified with each step.

By the time you reached the door to his dressing room, your heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of your chest. Every step you took down the corridor had been charged with anticipation, your pulse quickening with each second, each unspoken word between you and Remy. You could still feel the lingering heat of the room you'd just left, still hear the faint hum of voices and music filtering through the walls, but it all felt so distant now—like the world outside had shrunk, leaving just the two of you in this bubble of heightened energy and unspoken desire.

Remy opened the door with an easy grace, his hand lingering on the handle as he gestured for you to step inside. The room was dimly lit, just the soft glow of a lamp in the corner casting warm, golden light over the space. There was no harshness, no coldness—it felt intimate, like a place where secrets could be shared and moments could stretch into forever. The air in the room was cooler than the heat of the venue, but it was thick with something else, something palpable between you, something that had been building all night.

As you stepped inside, you could feel the weight of the moment settling over you, a bittersweet mix of nerves and excitement surging through your veins. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint sounds of the distant music were muted, leaving only a soft hum in the background. It felt like a cocoon, a space where the outside world no longer existed, where the chaos and noise of the night couldn’t reach you.

You turned to face him, and that fragile tension—so carefully held in check since the moment you had caught him watching you from the stage—finally snapped. The charged atmosphere between you suddenly ignited, and in the span of a breath, Remy closed the distance between you. His movements were deliberate but urgent, a man who had been waiting for this as much as you had. His hands, strong and sure, slid around your waist, pulling you close, the warmth of his body pressing against yours.

Then, his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, testing, as if both of you were feeling out the boundaries of this moment. But it didn’t stay soft for long. The urgency that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise, like a flame fanned by a gust of wind. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your hands instinctively reached for him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you pulled him closer, needing him closer. His breath hitched as your fingers slid through the strands, and you could feel the way his body responded to your touch, the way his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him.

And just like that, everything else fell away.

The music, the crowd, the chaos of the night—it all melted into the background, like a distant memory that no longer mattered. All that existed was the heat between your bodies, the taste of him on your lips, the way his hands roamed over your back, exploring, wanting. Each kiss, each touch, sent sparks of electricity shooting through you, lighting up every nerve, every inch of your skin. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, like the night had been building to this moment all along.

You weren’t thinking about your ex anymore. He had been nothing more than a brief, bitter distraction, a fleeting shadow that had been erased by the intensity of what was happening now. You weren’t thinking about the way his arm had been slung around her shoulders, or the way they had laughed as if you didn’t exist. That whole mess, that entire chapter of your life, felt miles away—insignificant in the face of what you were feeling now.

All you could focus on was Remy—the way his hands moved over your skin, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts between kisses. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it against his chest, but you didn’t care. You had never felt so alive, so seen, as you did in that moment, with him.

There was something intoxicating about the way he touched you, like he was both savoring every second and barely able to contain himself. His fingers slid under the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his skin against yours sending another jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat, and when his lips found yours again, it was like the world tilted on its axis, spinning faster, pulling you deeper into the gravity of this moment.

Time seemed to stretch, to bend around you, making every second feel heavy with possibility. You could feel the weight of his desire in the way he kissed you, in the way his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, closer—like he couldn’t get enough. And the truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want this moment to end.

Your back hit the wall gently, and before you knew it, his body was pressed against yours, his hands framing your face as he kissed you with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rose and fell in time with your own ragged breaths. It was all-consuming, the kind of connection that made everything else fade into oblivion.

For the first time in a long time, you felt free—untethered from the weight of your past, from the pain of your ex, from the expectations you had placed on yourself. With Remy, it was different. It was easy. It was exactly what you hadn’t realized you needed.

And as his hands slid lower, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering something low and full of promise, you let go completely, surrendering to the moment, to him. “Fuck,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with lust, dripping with raw desire. His accent was heavier now, his words rolling off his tongue like a prayer, one meant only for you. “Y’re so fucking beautiful.”

The room around you seemed to fade, the dim lighting casting long shadows along the walls, isolating the two of you in this moment. His words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening as heat pooled low in your stomach. Your breaths were shallow, your heart pounding in your chest, but before you could even muster a response, Remy’s hands were on your thighs.

Strong, calloused hands slid up your legs, pushing them apart with deliberate ease, his touch firm but gentle, like he was savoring every second. Time seemed to slow as he sank to his knees before you, his body lowering gracefully, and the sight of him—Remy LeBeau, on his knees for you—made your heart stutter in your chest. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of hunger, lips parted slightly, and you sucked in a breath. There was something primal in his gaze, something that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world he wanted at this moment.

You gasped as his fingers found the edge of your shorts, teasing the fabric aside as he slipped beneath the hem, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, your body responding instantly to his proximity, to the heat of his breath against your skin.

"Remy," you breathed, your voice barely audible, strained and shaky, trembling with need. Your eyes locked onto his, and the way he looked up at you—kneeling before you like a worshipper at an altar—made your knees weak.

He grinned, that familiar, wicked curve of his lips that drove you wild, and without breaking eye contact, his fingers dipped further, tracing soft circles along your inner thigh, inching closer to where you needed him most. Your breath hitched in your throat, anticipation running hot through your veins, every nerve ending in your body attuned to his touch.

With one swift motion, his fingers slid beneath your shorts and into your underwear, finding the wetness between your legs, and you gasped at the sensation. His touch was confident, practiced, knowing. He pressed his fingers against your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you cry out. Your hips jerked involuntarily toward him, your body desperate for more, for everything he was giving you.

"So wet," he murmured, his voice a low growl, the words vibrating against your skin. The sound of it sent another wave of heat coursing through you. His head tilted slightly as he watched your reaction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “So ready for me.”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond, your mind lost in the haze of pleasure as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate rhythm. His thumb circled your clit in torturously slow strokes, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. You could feel the tension building inside you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly, nails digging into his skin as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

Your body was trembling, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. You were right on the edge, teetering there, your thighs trembling against his hands, your entire body aching with the need to come. You could feel it building, that sweet, aching pressure deep in your core, and you moaned, your voice a broken plea.

But just when you were about to tip over into bliss, Remy’s fingers withdrew, leaving you gasping, your body trembling, your mind reeling from the sudden loss of contact. You opened your eyes, half-lidded and dazed, your body still throbbing with need, and you stared down at him, your chest heaving.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desperation, your hands tightening on his shoulders. "Don’t stop." You could barely form the words, your body crying out for more, for him.

Remy’s lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes dark with amusement and promise as he slowly stood, his body towering over you now, casting a long shadow in the dim light. His fingers, still slick with you, brushed against your lip for the briefest moment before he wiped them on his jeans, never once breaking eye contact. There was something predatory in the way he looked at you, something that made your pulse quicken all over again, your body aching for him to finish what he’d started.

“Oh, I’m far from done with you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful promise, each word sending shivers down your spine. He reached down, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment, the touch strangely tender considering the hunger in his eyes. Then his fingers slid down your jaw, tracing the line of your neck, lingering there as if feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips.

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved lower, over your collarbone, down the curve of your chest, before settling at the hem of your shirt. He tugged at it gently, his eyes flicking to yours, silently asking for permission. Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded, your body already aching for more of him, already craving the feel of his skin against yours.

In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, casting it aside without a second thought. You were bare before him now, and the way his eyes roamed over your body, dark and intense, made your skin flush with heat. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel his breath, warm and heavy against your skin.

His hands, large and sure, moved to your waist, pulling you toward him, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was deep and demanding. His mouth was hot against yours, his tongue sliding between your lips, and you moaned into the kiss, your hands gripping his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers as he held you close.

The kiss deepened, turning more urgent, more desperate, as your bodies pressed together, the heat between you growing unbearable. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel how hard he was through his jeans, his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The friction sent another wave of desire crashing through you, and you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Remy broke the kiss, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m gonn’ make y’ scream my name tonight." His voice was a low growl, full of promise, and the sound of it made your core tighten with anticipation.

You were already lost to him, already craving everything he had promised. Your body trembled with the need to feel him inside you, to have him everywhere all at once. You could barely think, barely breathe, as he guided you backward toward the couch, his hands never leaving your body, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, over your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When your legs hit the edge of the couch, you sank down onto it, your body trembling with anticipation. Remy stood over you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body with a look that was nothing short of ravenous. He made quick work of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his chest broad, his muscles taut, every inch of him exuding raw, masculine power.

He lowered himself onto the couch, his body pressing against yours, his lips finding your skin once more. The weight of him, the feel of his bare skin against yours, sent another wave of desire crashing through you. His hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of you, and you arched into his touch, your body aching for more, for everything he had to give. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, with a possessive intensity that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat. There was something about the way Remy touched you—like he was memorizing you, staking his claim with every brush of his fingers. His palms slid up your sides, tracing the lines of your body, before cupping your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, slow at first, teasing, until they hardened into tight peaks beneath his touch. The sensation pulled a low moan from your lips, your back arching involuntarily as you pressed yourself against him, craving more.

His mouth was on yours again, hungry and insistent, his tongue moving against yours in a dance that was equal parts dominance and submission. It was a battle for control, one you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to win. The heat between you was palpable, thick in the air, making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Every kiss, every touch, was like gasoline poured on an already roaring fire, and you were both more than willing to let it burn.

"Y; taste so good," Remy murmured against your lips, his voice rough and gravelly, thick with desire. His breath was hot as it ghosted over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

His words made your pulse quicken, a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Before you could respond, his hand began its descent, sliding down your body with deliberate slowness. His fingers skimmed over your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, and then dipping beneath it, his touch featherlight but full of promise. The anticipation made your thighs clench, your body aching for him to touch you where you needed him most.

When his fingers finally slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick folds, you gasped, your hips instinctively lifting toward him. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core as his fingers began to move, stroking you with expert precision. He found your clit almost immediately, circling it with his thumb in slow, deliberate movements that made your breath hitch and your body tremble.

"Remy," you gasped, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling as he touched you. His fingers pressed deeper, probing, seeking out the most sensitive spots, and your body responded instantly, arching into his hand, desperate for more.

He watched you as he worked, his eyes dark and filled with lust, taking in every reaction, every gasp, every moan. There was something almost predatory in the way he looked at you, like he was savoring the sight of you unraveling beneath him. His thumb moved faster now, circling your clit with a pressure that was both perfect and overwhelming, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

"Please…" you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting closer, your entire body taut with anticipation, teetering on the edge of release.

But just as you were about to tip over, Remy pulled back, his fingers slipping away, leaving you gasping, your body aching with need. Your eyes flew open, wide and desperate, and you looked up at him, your chest heaving, your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Beg f’r it," he commanded, his voice low and rough, filled with a dark, commanding edge that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze was intense, his lips curled into a wicked smile, and for a moment, your pride flared up, making you hesitate. But the need was too strong, too overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of you.

"Please, Remy," you whispered, your voice trembling, your body trembling. "Please, make me come."

There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, his smile widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "Tha’ my girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, and then his mouth was on you.

He slid down your body, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he removed your shorts, leaving you fully exposed to him. You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth descended on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves with a speed and precision that made you cry out. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the dark strands as you held on for dear life, your body trembling beneath the onslaught of sensation.

Remy devoured you like a man starved, his tongue working you with an intensity that bordered on desperate. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, precise flicks of his tongue, driving you absolutely wild with need. Your hips bucked against him, your body moving on its own as you chased the pleasure, the tension inside you building higher and higher with every stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely coherent, your body trembling uncontrollably as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. It was too much, too intense, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. You were desperate for release, your thighs shaking, your nerves singing with pleasure as his tongue moved faster, pushing you right to the brink.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate, your grip on his hair tightening as your body tensed. "I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let up. His tongue continued its relentless assault, flicking over your clit with a speed and precision that left you gasping for breath. He was merciless, pushing you closer and closer until finally, with a shuddering gasp, you came. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you and pulling you under, your body convulsing as the pleasure ripped through you in uncontrollable, shuddering waves.

You cried out, your vision blurring as the intensity of it overwhelmed you, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But Remy didn’t stop. His tongue kept moving, softer now but still persistent, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were left gasping, your chest heaving, your heart pounding in your ears.

You were barely aware of your surroundings as you came down from the high, your body still trembling, your thighs slick with sweat and the aftermath of your release. Remy’s hands slid up your legs, soothing now, his touch gentle as he kissed his way up your stomach, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

When he finally reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a lazy, unhurried way that sent a new wave of heat through your body. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just happened, and it made your already racing heart pound even harder.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down at you. "I’m not done with y’ yet," he murmured, his voice low and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, your body still humming with the remnants of your orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes sent another jolt of anticipation through you. You knew he meant every word, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, you realized you didn’t want him to stop.

Not tonight. Not ever. He held your gaze, eyes dark and unyielding, the weight of his presence suffocating in the most delicious way. His body was close, too close, the heat rolling off him in waves that made your skin prickle with anticipation. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low, gravelly growl that sent shivers racing down your spine.

"Tell me what y’ wan’."

The command hung in the air, thick and heavy, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your heart thundered in your chest, the words you desperately wanted to say caught in your throat. But his gaze was relentless, pinning you in place, demanding your confession. You swallowed hard, your breath shaky as you finally gave in to the desire burning inside you.

"I want…" you hesitated, the flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but the raw need in his eyes pushed you forward. "I want you to spank me," you whispered, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I want you to be my Daddy."

A slow, predatory smile curled at the corner of his lips, sending a thrill of anticipation through you. He moved closer, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the soft cushions of the couch. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel thick and heavy.

"Tha’s my girl," he murmured, his voice rough but filled with unmistakable pride. The praise wrapped around you like a warm blanket, making your skin tingle. "Y’re going to be such a good girl fo’ Daddy, aren’ y’?"

Your throat was tight, but you nodded, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, Daddy." His smile widened, a dark, possessive gleam flashing in his eyes as his hands slid slowly down your body, fingertips grazing your skin with deliberate intent. Each touch sent a ripple of anticipation through you, the tension between you growing thicker by the second. He pulled back just enough to take in the sight of you, his gaze roaming over your body as though you were his to command—and you were.

“Bend over,” he ordered, his voice low, authoritative, and laced with a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

You stood up, the cool air brushing against your skin, making you feel exposed in the most thrilling way. But there was no hesitation in your movements. You held his gaze, a small, teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips as you obeyed, the desire in his eyes only fueling the heat pooling deep in your stomach. The intensity of his stare, the hunger he didn’t bother to hide, made your body hum with anticipation.

"You ready for Daddy?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that made your core tighten with need.

You nodded, your breath coming in short bursts as you braced yourself, your hands gripping the cushions beneath you. The tension coiled in your muscles, every nerve on high alert as you waited for the first strike.

The first slap landed with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room. The sting of it spread across your ass, sharp and hot, and you gasped, your body jerking forward from the force. But there was no time to adjust, no time to catch your breath—his hand was already coming down again, harder this time.

The rhythm he set was punishing, each slap harder than the last, the sharp pain blending beautifully into the growing pleasure. Your skin burned where his hand struck, the heat blooming in waves that spread through your entire body. You moaned, your hips lifting instinctively, pushing back toward him, craving more.

"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice soothing but firm, like he was rewarding your submission even as his hand came down again. "Taking it so well for Daddy."

The praise made your chest tighten with something heady and warm, your core throbbing with need. You could feel the wetness between your thighs growing, the ache there intensifying with each slap. The mix of pain and pleasure, of his control and your willingness to submit, was intoxicating. Your mind was spinning, lost in the haze of sensation as your body trembled beneath him.

You whimpered, your skin tingling with every strike, the heat radiating from your ass as his hand continued its relentless assault. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and moans. The pain was delicious, sharp and biting, but it only fueled the fire burning inside you.

Remy’s hand finally stilled, resting against your heated skin, his fingers brushing over the marks he’d left. The gentleness of his touch after the punishment made your breath hitch, sending another wave of arousal through you. You could feel your body trembling, teetering on the edge of something raw and powerful.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and rough, leaving no room for argument.

Your legs were shaking as you obeyed, turning to face him on the couch. Your heart raced, your body still buzzing from the spanking as you looked up at him. His eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made your chest tighten. He looked down at you like you were his possession, something precious and fragile but also something he could break if he wanted to.

"Daddy’s proud of y’" he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. The words sent a ripple of warmth through you, making your skin flush with pride. But then his expression shifted, darkening with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat. "But Daddy needs to hear y’ beg."

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you looked up at him, your mind spinning with the mixture of fear and anticipation. The weight of his command hung heavy in the air, and you knew there was no escaping it. You wanted to beg. Needed to.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation. "Please, make me come."

A slow, wicked smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he stepped closer, looming over you. His hand reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek before trailing down to your throat. His grip was firm but gentle as his fingers curled around your neck, his thumb brushing over the rapid pulse at your throat.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and filled with approval. The words he spoke made your heart swell, a warmth spreading through your chest that left you feeling both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You were his, completely in this moment, but knowing that you still held the reins—that he was listening, that he would stop if you asked—made your body tingle with anticipation. His grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough for your breath to hitch, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you. Every nerve in your body was alight, your skin buzzing with the promise of what was to come.

"Just let me know if you need me to stop. You double tap if you need me to stop," he said softly, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through you. The reassurance grounded you, a reminder that despite the intensity, this was still your choice. The control you had over the situation only made your submission all the more intoxicating. You wanted this, craved it, and he knew it.

The sensation of his hand around your throat was overwhelming, the pressure making your pulse race beneath his fingers. It wasn’t just about the physicality of it—it was the power in his touch, the way it made you feel utterly exposed and completely his. Your body responded instantly, a flood of heat pooling between your legs as his thumb brushed over your pulse. The world felt smaller, quieter, like nothing existed outside of this moment, outside of the way his hand made you submit so completely.

His breath was hot against your ear, his voice a low, commanding whisper that made your stomach tighten with desire. "I wan’ta see those pretty eyes on me when you beg, baby."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your body trembling at the raw hunger in his voice. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the air as you struggled to catch your breath. His grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your vision blur at the edges, and your eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

"Look a’ me," he growled, his voice low and demanding, and the way he said it made your heart lurch in your chest.

Your gaze locked with his, and the intensity in his eyes made the air feel heavy, like it was pressing down on you. His eyes were dark, filled with fierce possession, and the look he gave you made your entire body hum with need. Your breath came in short, shaky bursts, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to hold his gaze. It was almost too much, the way he looked at you—like he owned you, like he wanted to consume you whole.

The pressure of his hand around your throat made your head spin, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire swirling inside you. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his wrist, but you didn’t want him to stop. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as your body throbbed with anticipation. The world outside felt distant, unimportant, as you focused entirely on the feeling of his hand on your throat, on the way your body responded to his touch.

"Beg," he growled, his voice thick with authority, the single word sending a wave of heat crashing through you. "Beg Daddy to make y’ come."

You whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you struggled to find the words. The need inside you was overwhelming, consuming, and all you could think about was how much you wanted him, how much you needed him. "Please," you gasped, your voice shaking as his grip tightened just a little more. "Please, Daddy… I need you. Please make me come."

The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate, unmistakable. His thumb brushed over your pulse, feeling the frantic beating of your heart beneath his fingers as he loosened his grip just enough for you to breathe again. His mouth curled into a dark, satisfied smile, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched the way you trembled beneath him.

"Oh you beautiful girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and approval. The praise sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your body reacting to his words as much as his touch. His hand moved from your throat, trailing down your body, his fingers brushing over every inch of bare skin with deliberate slowness, like he was savoring the way you shivered beneath him.

He sank to his knees between your legs, and the anticipation made your breath catch in your throat. You barely had time to process the shift before his mouth was on you, his tongue flicking over your clit with a precision that made your body jerk in response. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers curling into the dark strands as you held on, desperate for more.

The way his tongue moved—deliberate, intense, relentless—was driving you wild. Each flick, each stroke, sent you spiraling higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you struggled to hold yourself together. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking as he worked you with expert precision, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as you squirmed beneath him.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and desperate as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. "I’m gonna—"

But he didn’t stop. His mouth continued its assault, his tongue flicking over your clit with unrelenting speed, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until, with a final flick of his tongue, you came undone. The orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that left you gasping for air, your body convulsing as the pleasure tore through you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice soothing, grounding you as you came down from the high. "Take it, baby. Take everything Daddy gives you."

Each word was like a balm, softening the sharp edges of your pleasure, grounding you as the intensity began to fade. But your body was still trembling, still humming with the aftershocks of the orgasm, and you could feel the heat between your legs still pulsing with need.

Your heart was still racing, your body trembling from the echo of the last orgasm, but the hunger in his eyes told you this wasn’t over. Far from it. The kiss he gave you was searing, possessive, but it was also a promise—one that left you breathless and aching for more. His hands still roamed your body, slow and deliberate, as if he was mapping out every sensitive spot, every place that made you tremble. You could feel the intensity radiating off him, the way his touch lingered with purpose, pushing you closer to an edge you weren’t sure you were ready to face—but you wanted to, needed to.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with something almost predatory. His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze flicking between your eyes as if searching for a sign. A brief flicker of hesitation crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same, unwavering confidence. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

"Y’ can take more," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I know y’ can. Y’re such a good girl, and I’m not done with y’ yet."

Your breath hitched at his words, the heat in your stomach flaring to life again as your body responded to his command. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. His grip on your chin tightened, tilting your head up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. "Tell me y’ can take it for Daddy."

"I can," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation. "I can take it for you, Daddy."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face, and his grip loosened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more before sliding down your throat, lingering there for a moment as if to remind you of the control he held over your body. The pressure was light, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken, enough to remind you how easy it would be for him to take you further than you’d ever gone before.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words sending a ripple of heat through your body. "Now get on your knees."

His command was simple, but the weight of it was overwhelming. Your legs were still shaky, your body trembling from the intensity of what had just happened, but you obeyed, sliding off the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. The feeling of the cool floor beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat radiating off your skin, grounding you even as your mind spun with anticipation.

Remy towered over you, his presence almost suffocating in its intensity. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with dark desire, and the way he watched you—like a predator watching its prey—made your heart race even faster. You felt small beneath him, vulnerable, but it only fueled the aching need inside you. You wanted to please him, to give him everything he asked for.

"D’y know what I want, baby?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

Your mouth felt dry, your voice barely a whisper as you answered. "No, Daddy. Tell me."

He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I wan’t see how far I can push y’," he said, his tone dark and full of promise. "I want to see y’ break for me, but y’re going to ask for it. Y’re going to beg me to take y’ there."

The words hit you like a wave, the meaning behind them settling deep in your core. He wasn’t just going to push you—he was going to make you want it, make you beg for it. The thought made your stomach twist with anticipation, the ache between your legs growing unbearable as you knelt before him, waiting for his next move.

His hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm but not painful, as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Open y’ mouth," he ordered, his voice soft, but the command in it was unmistakable.

You obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The vulnerability of the position you were in, the way he was looking down at you as though he owned you, made your entire body burn with need. You wanted him to take you further, wanted him to push your limits in ways you’d never imagined.

He slid two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as he watched you intently. The taste of his skin was intoxicating, and you closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently as you gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he watched you.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Such a good girl for Daddy."

Your body responded instantly to the praise, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you as you sucked harder on his fingers, your tongue swirling around them. His eyes darkened, and you could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he was reveling in the control he had over you.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath as your lips parted with a soft, wet sound. His thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the moisture before he tilted your head back further, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Y’re going to beg for this," he said, his voice low and commanding. "’nd y’re not going to stop until I’m ready to give it to y’."

The heat between your legs was unbearable now, your body trembling with need as his words sank in. You wanted to beg, wanted to give him everything he asked for, but your voice felt trapped in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it hard to breathe.

"Please, Daddy," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please… I need you."

His smile widened, dark and predatory, as he stepped closer, looming over you. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in the best possible way, and the way he looked down at you made your heart race even faster.

"I know y’ do," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with authority. "But y’’re going to have to work for it, baby. Show me how much y’ want it."

With that, he unzipped his pants, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you just enough time to process what was about to happen. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling with anticipation as he freed himself, his cock hard and thick, the sight of it making your mouth water.

He stroked himself once, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched the way your breath quickened, the way your body responded to the sight of him. Then, without warning, he gripped the back of your neck again, guiding you toward him.

"Open," he commanded, his voice a low growl.

Your lips parted instantly, your body moving on instinct as he guided his cock into your mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, the weight of him heavy on your tongue, and you moaned around him, your body trembling with need as you took him deeper.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval as he watched you. "Take it all for Daddy."

You did your best to obey, your throat constricting as he pushed deeper, the sensation making your eyes water. But you didn’t stop—you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to please him, to show him how much you could take.

His grip on your neck tightened as he began to move, thrusting slowly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of the moment, the way he was using you, made your body burn with need, the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

"Look at y’," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Such a good little slut for Daddy."

The words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your body responding instantly to the degradation. You could feel your pussy throbbing, the need for release consuming you as he continued to thrust into your mouth, each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs as you tried to take him deeper, the pleasure and pain blending together in a way that made your head spin. You could feel your body trembling, your vision blurring with the intensity of it all, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

"Beg for it," he growled again, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg Daddy to let you come."

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice shaking as you looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper. "Please let me come. I need it."

His eyes darkened, his expression filled with satisfaction as he watched you. "Y’ll come when I say y’ can," he growled, his voice thick with authority. "And not a second before."

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you, your body trembling with the need to obey. You didn’t know how much more you could take, but you trusted him to push you to your limit—to give you exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t know what that was yet.

"Now," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low growl as his grip tightened on your neck. "Let’s see how far I can take y’." Remy’s presence loomed over you, dark and intoxicating, his eyes gleaming with something primal, something that made your heart race and your body ache with need. His grip on your neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the control he held over you. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every second of your submission, sent shivers down your spine.

"Ah, cher," he murmured, his deep Cajun drawl thick and dripping with honey, "you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. You think you’re ready for more, but you gon’ have to beg me real sweet. I wanna hear how much you need it."

His accent wrapped around you like a sultry summer night, the smooth cadence of his voice making the air around you feel heavy and thick. The sound of his words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, your body reacting instantly to the way his voice dripped with authority, with promise.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. "Please, Remy, I need more."

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. His thumb traced a slow line down the side of your neck, lingering over your pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his fingers.

"More?" he repeated, his accent lingering on the word, making it sound almost like a tease. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your stomach flip. "I don’t know if you can handle more, cher. But you gon’ prove it to me, non?"

You nodded quickly, eager, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts as you fought to hold his gaze. Your body was trembling, every nerve alight with anticipation, with the need to be pushed further, to see just how far he could take you.

Remy tilted his head, his smirk widening as he studied you, his thumb pressing a little harder against your throat, just enough to make your breath catch. "Y’ gon’ beg me. Beg me proper. Tell Daddy exactly what y’ need."

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the heat between your legs growing unbearable as his words coiled around you like a snake. The way his accent made every word sound like a command, left you desperate, aching for whatever he was willing to give.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please push me. I need it. I need you."

His eyes darkened at your words, satisfaction flashing across his face as he released your throat and let his hand trail down your body. His fingers were slow, deliberate, as they traced the curve of your hips, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Bon," he murmured, his voice low and full of approval. "That’s my good girl. Y’ wanna be pushed till y’ can’t take no more, hmm? Y’ wanna see how far Daddy can take y’?"

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as his hand moved lower, teasingly slow, inching toward the heat between your legs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as you waited for his touch, for him to take control again.

"You gon’ ask for everythin’, cher. Every. Damn. Thing," he growled, his voice thick with his Cajun drawl, each word dripping with dominance. "An’ you ain’t stoppin’ till Daddy says so."

His fingers finally brushed over your clit, and you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden contact. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. You needed more, craved more, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice high and needy, your body shaking as his fingers continued their slow, torturous movements. "Please… more."

His lips curled into a wicked grin, his accent thick as honey as he leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You want more? You gon’ have to work for it. Show me how bad you need it."

He began to circle your clit with maddening slowness, the pressure just enough to drive you wild but not enough to give you relief. The frustration built inside you, your hips instinctively bucking up toward his hand, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your waist unyielding.

"No, no, cher," he drawled, his voice a low purr. "You don’t get to move till I say so. You gon’ take what I give you, and you gon’ be a good girl while you do it."

The dominance in his voice, the way he controlled every movement, every sensation, made your head spin. You could feel the heat building inside you, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, but he wasn’t letting you have anything more than a taste. Your body was desperate for release, but you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you without making you beg for it.

"Please," you gasped, your voice breaking as you struggled to keep still beneath him. "Please, Remy, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything—just, please, I need more."

He chuckled again, a dark, rumbling sound that made your skin tingle. "That’s better. But I don’t think y’ beggin’ hard enough, non? I wanna hear y’ cry for me. I wanna hear that desperation."

His fingers pressed harder against your clit, the pressure sending a wave of pleasure through you that made your legs tremble, but still, it wasn’t enough. You needed more, needed him to take you over the edge, to push you further than you’d ever been before.

Your breath hitched, your hands flying to his wrist, but he didn’t let up, didn’t give you an inch of control. You were his, completely, and the knowledge of that made you tremble with need.

"Please, Daddy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "Please make me come. I need it. I need you."

Remy’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you squirm beneath him. "Ah, there she is," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he began to thrust with a relentless, punishing rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure building so quickly that it left you gasping for air, your body arching up against him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

But even as your body trembled, even as the pleasure threatened to consume you, he didn’t let you have it. He kept you right on the edge, his movements precise, controlled, designed to keep you teetering on the brink without ever falling over.

"Y’ feel that?" he growled, his voice low and rough, his accent thick with desire. "Y’ right there, but you don’t get to come till I say so. Y’ gon’ take everythin’ I give y’, an’ y’ gon’ thank me for it."

Your body was shaking, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you fought to hold on, to stay in control, but it was impossible. The sensation of his fingers inside you, the pressure on your clit, the sound of his voice—it was all too much.

"Please," you cried, your voice breaking as you begged him for release. "Please, Daddy, please let me come. I can’t take it anymore."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grin widening as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then come for me, cher," he growled, his accent thick and commanding. "Come for Daddy."

And with that, the coil inside you snapped, the orgasm crashing over you with such force that it left you gasping for air. Your body convulsed, trembling violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

"That’s it," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of your release. "Good girl, bébé. Y’ take what Daddy gives you."

Your vision blurred, your entire body trembling as you rode out the orgasm, your mind spinning with the overwhelming intensity of it all. You barely registered Remy’s thumb brushing over your swollen lips, or the way his grip on your waist tightened, steadying you as you came down from the high.

But even as your body began to relax, even as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through you, you knew that Remy wasn’t done. Not yet.

Remy's eyes burned with a heat that almost made you shy away, but the pull between you two was undeniable. His Cajun accent was thick, dripping with lust as he let out a low, rumbling chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. You knew you were walking on the edge now, and he was about to push you over.

"Ah, cher," he drawled, his voice thick like molasses, rich and smooth, "y’ been beggin' so sweet, but now you gon’ really see what it means to be mine." His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you close until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. "Y’ ready for Daddy to fuck you like you need?"

Your answer came in the form of a ragged breath, your body pulsing with anticipation. Every nerve in your body was alive with the need for him, for the way he controlled you, the way he made you feel like no one else ever could. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear it from you.

"I asked y’ a question, cher," he murmured, his lips brushing just against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with a kiss he hadn’t yet given. "Tell me what you want."

"Please," you gasped, barely able to form the words as your body trembled under his touch. "Please, Daddy… I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me."

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as a feral smile tugged at his lips. "Bon," he growled. "That’s what I like to hear."

Without another word, his hands were on you, strong and commanding. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him with a force that left you breathless. Before you could process it, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the dresser with a confidence that only made the ache between your legs worse.

"Y’ feel that, cher?" he whispered, his voice low and rough, his accent wrapping around you like a caress. "You feel how hard I am for y’?" He ground his hips against you, and you could feel the thick length of him pressing against your core. The sensation made you gasp, your body arching into him as your need for him grew unbearable.

"Remy," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, I can’t wait anymore."

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pressed your back against the wall. "Oh, cher, you ain’t gotta wait no more. Daddy’s gon’ give you exactly what you been beggin’ for."

His hands were rough but reverent as they trailed up your thighs, spreading you open as he pinned you against the dresser with his body, completely at his mercy.

"You so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Been wantin’ this, haven’t ya? Wantin’ Daddy to take care of y’?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick folds. "Please, I need you."

"Shhh," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. "I got y’, cher. I’m gon’ take care of y’ real good."

With that, he gripped himself, pressing against your entrance. You could feel the heat, the wetness. The anticipation, the need, was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your body trembling with the sheer intensity of it.

"Look at y’," he murmured, his voice low and full of pride as he lined himself up with you, his cock teasing your soaked entrance. "Y’ ready for Daddy, bébé?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your voice breathless with need. "Please, Remy… I need you inside me."

That was all he needed to hear.

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the fullness of him stretching you in ways that made your head spin. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, designed to push you to your absolute limit.

"Ah, cher," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Y’feel so fuckin’ good wrapped around me. Y’ were made for this, weren’t ya? Made to take Daddy’s cock."

You could barely form words, the pleasure too intense, too all-consuming as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with a force that had you gasping for breath.

"Remy," you moaned, your head falling back against the wall as your body arched into him, your legs tightening around his waist. "Oh god…"

"That’s it, bébé," he murmured, his voice low and rough as his hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Take it. Take all of me."

The sound of his voice, the way his accent dripped with authority, with ownership, only fueled the fire burning inside you. Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure was overwhelming, every thrust sending shockwaves through your body, bringing you closer to a release that you could feel building inside you like a storm.

"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as you clung to him. "Please, I’m so close…"

"Not yet, cher," he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he slowed his pace, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you fall. "Y’ don’t come till I say. You gon’ wait for Daddy, you hear me?"

You whimpered, your body trembling with the need for release, but you nodded, knowing that you were his to control, to use as he saw fit.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I’m gon’ make y’ scream."

And then he was fucking you in earnest, his pace rough and relentless, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sensation was almost too much, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You could feel every inch of him inside you, stretching you, filling you completely, and it was driving you wild.

"Remy," you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shake, the pressure inside you building to a breaking point. "I can’t… I need to come…"

"Y’ gon’ come for me, cher?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he pounded into you with a force that had you seeing stars. "Y’ gon’ come on Daddy’s cock?"

"Yes," you gasped, your voice breaking as your body trembled violently, the pleasure too much to hold back any longer. "Please… I’m gonna come…"

"Then come for me, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with command. "Come for Daddy."

With a final, shattering thrust, your body exploded, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you breathless, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You cried out, your body convulsing against him as he held you steady, his hips never stopping as he fucked you through the orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you were a trembling, gasping mess.

"That’s it, cher," he murmured, his voice full of pride as he watched you fall apart in his arms. "You did so good for Daddy."

Even as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you, Remy didn’t stop. He kept moving, his pace relentless, and you could feel the tension building again inside you, another orgasm already creeping up on you. You didn’t think it was possible to come again so soon, but with Remy, anything was possible.

"One more, bébé," he growled, his voice thick with lust as he thrust into you harder, deeper. "Give me one more."

Your body was trembling, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he drove you toward another release, his cock filling you completely with every powerful thrust. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the pleasure so intense that it left you gasping for air.

"Remy," you whimpered, your voice trembling as your body began to shake again. "I can’t…"

"Yes, y’ can, cher," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous purr. "Y’ gon’ give Daddy one more. Come for me again, bébé."

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped for a second time, the orgasm tearing through you with even more intensity than the first. You cried out, your body convulsing violently as the pleasure consumed you, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms.

Remy let out a low, rumbling growl as he thrust into you one final time, his body tensing as he found his own release, filling you with a warmth that left you trembling. He held you close, his breath hot against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm, his grip on you tight and possessive.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing, the both of you still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Remy’s hands were gentle now, soothing as they ran over your skin, grounding you as you came down from the high.

"Y’ did so good, cher," he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride as he kissed your temple. "Daddy’s so proud of y’."

You smiled weakly, your body completely spent but utterly satisfied. You were his, completely, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Y’ mine now," he whispered, his Cajun drawl thick with satisfaction. "All mine." <><><><> Remy leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, watching with a lazy smirk as you slowly dressed. His jeans were already on, though still unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. The room was dimly lit, but he could see the faint redness around your neck, the way your makeup had smudged slightly under your eyes. His gaze lingered for a moment on the torn fishnet stockings you were rolling up, defeated, before tossing them into the wastebasket.

"So, is this what you do?" you asked, a teasing edge to your voice as you glanced at him. "Find girls who amuse you and fuck them into submission?" You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Remy’s smirk widened as he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey. "Only the ones I like," he replied smoothly, his Cajun accent thick and lazy. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he continued, "What about y’, cher? Is this how you normally spend your nights? Pour drinks on your ex and fuck like a rockstar?"

You shrugged, pulling on your shirt and noticing a button missing. With a sigh, you muttered, "Haven't fucked like a rockstar in a while." You tugged at the shirt, frowning at the missing button, and whispered to yourself, "Fuck it."

Without a word, Remy reached over to the floor, grabbed his own shirt, and handed it to you. "Here," he said, the smirk never leaving his face. "They're all used to seein’ me shirtless anyway."

You glanced up at him, a little surprised, but took the shirt, slipping it on. His scent lingered on the fabric, and it felt oddly comforting. As you adjusted the shirt, your eyes trailed over the scratches on his back, the marks you’d left in the heat of the moment. "Sorry about those," you said, your voice softening slightly.

Remy shrugged it off, his smile easy. "Don’t worry ‘bout it. Battle scars, cher. Comes with the territory."

There was a beat of silence, the air still thick with the remnants of your shared passion, but something more serious lingered beneath the surface. You glanced at him, chewing on your bottom lip before speaking again. "It’s funny… me and my ex—we were always trying to match each other’s crazy. But we never really did." You paused, pulling his shirt tighter around you, as if it could shield you from the vulnerability of the confession. "We tried, you know? But it was like… we were on different wavelengths. My crazy was too much for him, and his was never enough for me. We just didn’t fit."

Remy’s expression shifted, the playful smirk fading into something deeper, more thoughtful. He leaned back against the dresser, arms still crossed, but his eyes were locked on yours. "Mmm, I get that," he murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Ain’t easy findin’ someone who matches y’r crazy, cher. Most people, they don’t wanna go there. They don’t wanna dive deep into the wild parts of themselves—or y’. They wanna keep it safe, keep it easy."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. "Exactly. It’s like… they want the thrill, but not the risk. They want the passion without the storm that comes with it."

Remy let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he’d heard that story a hundred times before. "Yeah, well," he said, his tone dripping with a mix of amusement and something darker, "I ain’t met anyone yet who could handle my storm. Ain’t found no one who could match me, not all the way."

He paused, his eyes locking onto yours again, and for a moment, the lazy smirk returned to his lips, but there was something different behind it. Something more serious. More real. "That is… until tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you could feel the air between you shift, thickening with something unspoken but undeniable. You didn’t say anything at first, the weight of his gaze holding you in place as the realization of what he was saying sank in.

"Until tonight?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure if you were asking a question or just echoing his words.

Remy’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he closed the distance between you again. His hand found your waist, fingers trailing lightly over your skin as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Yeah, cher," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Tonight, I think I found someone who can keep up."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the quiet intensity in his voice. There was a challenge hidden in his tone, a promise that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. You could feel the fire between you two still smoldering, waiting for the next spark to set it ablaze again.

You turned to face him fully, your body brushing against his as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "You sure about that, Remy?" you asked, your voice soft but steady. "You think I can match your crazy?"

Remy’s eyes darkened, his grip on your waist tightening just slightly as he leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I think you might just be the one to burn me alive."

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with a challenge, with desire, with something neither of you could quite name but both of you could feel. You didn’t need to say anything more—there was no need for words now. The look in his eyes, the way his body pressed against yours, told you everything you needed to know.

Whatever this was between you, it wasn’t over. Not even close.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you’d met someone who was ready to dive into the storm with you, no matter how wild it got. Remy shrugged casually, his eyes still glinting with that lazy, mischievous smile as he leaned back against the dresser. "I’m in town for a few more nights," he said, his voice easy, like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down. "Then I gotta head off to Europe for a tour."

Your brow furrowed, unsure where he was going with this. Before you could ask, he glanced at you through half-lidded eyes, a hint of something more serious behind the playful exterior. "Y’ should come with me."

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as if you hadn’t heard him right. "Wait, what?" you asked, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Remy chuckled, that low, rich sound that seemed to rumble from somewhere deep within him. "Yeah, cher, I’m serious. I like y’. A lot." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, "And I think it’s somethin’ I wanna explore."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you were frozen, unsure how to respond. Your heart skipped a beat, and a million thoughts raced through your mind all at once. Was he really asking you to come with him? To leave everything behind for a whirlwind adventure across Europe? The idea was insane—completely reckless. You barely knew him beyond the fire and intensity of the past few hours. This was Remy LeBeau, the enigmatic Cajun heartthrob who probably had more women than he could count falling at his feet. And yet, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you now, that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel a little guarded. You’d heard stories like this before. Men like Remy didn’t just meet girls at bars and whisk them off on romantic tours across Europe. Was this just another game to him? Another notch on his belt?

As if sensing your hesitation, Remy crossed the room to the dresser, pulling out a pen and a small scrap of paper. He scribbled something quickly before handing both over to you. "Here," he said, his voice softening just slightly. "Give me y’r number, cher. Ain’t no pressure, but I’d like to see y’ again. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Maybe you’ll think about comin’ along after all."

You took the pen, still processing his offer, your fingers brushing against his as you grabbed the paper. A light, teasing smile tugged at your lips as you met his gaze. "What, you got one of these little scraps of paper for every woman at every port?" you quipped, the words coming out more as a joke than an accusation, though you couldn’t help the tiny hint of curiosity behind it.

For the briefest moment, Remy froze. His usual easy smile faltered, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. You watched as the playful mask he usually wore slipped ever so slightly, revealing something more vulnerable beneath it. Then, after a beat, he shook his head slowly, his expression serious now.

"Nah, cher," he said quietly, his voice losing some of its casual tone. "I ain’t got a woman in every port. I ain’t like that." He paused, his gaze holding yours, searching your face as if trying to make sure you understood. "Yeah, I fuck ‘em. Sure. But I don’t let it get further than that. I don’t… ask for numbers. I don’t ask them to come with me. Never done that before. Y’re different."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he spoke, and for the first time since you’d met him, you saw a glimpse of something real—something raw in his eyes. He wasn’t playing a part right now. He wasn’t the charming, reckless, devil-may-care musician. He was just Remy, standing there in front of you, telling you the truth.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself studying him carefully, searching for any hint of deception, any sign that this was just another well-rehearsed line. But there wasn’t. His eyes were steady, his expression open in a way you hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t lying. You could tell.

For a few long seconds, you just stood there, staring at him, the pen still in your hand, the paper resting against your palm. The silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

"I don’t know," you finally whispered, your voice hesitant. "I don’t usually do this either…" You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. What were you even saying? That you didn’t hook up with guys like him? That you didn’t let yourself get swept up in the moment? Because here you were, standing in his shirt, your legs still shaking from everything that had just happened, and your mind was spinning with the possibility of something more.

Remy took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, careful. "Y’ don’t have to decide right now, cher," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Take your time. But know this… I wasn’t playin’ tonight. I meant every word. Y’ got me thinkin’ ‘bout things I ain’t never thought ‘bout before."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. This was more than just a fling to him, more than just a momentary distraction. He was offering you something real, something uncertain and wild, but real all the same.

You glanced down at the pen in your hand, then back up at him. His eyes were still on you, watching carefully, waiting. Slowly, you uncapped the pen and scribbled your number down on the scrap of paper he’d handed you. "Okay," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you handed it back to him. "Here’s my number." You took a deep breath, glancing at Remy as you pulled his shirt tighter around you, the scent of him still lingering on the fabric. It was tempting—God, it was tempting—but you knew better. You shook your head softly, feeling the weight of reality settle on your shoulders. "But I can’t do Europe, Remy," you said, your voice steady but quiet. "I can’t just up and travel with you. I have a life outside of all this." You laughed, trying to lighten the heaviness you felt inside. "Knowing my luck, I’d probably end up on TMZ or something."

Remy’s lips curled into a small smile, but there was a softness in his eyes now, something understanding. He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. "Yeah, I get it, cher," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I know the lifestyle—paparazzi, the chaos—it ain’t for everyone." He paused, watching you carefully. "But that’s kinda why I think it’d work with y’."

You blinked, surprised by his response. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged, his expression thoughtful as he ran a hand through his messy hair. "Y’ ain’t lookin’ for fame or attention. Y’ just… get me. Most people wanna be around me for the wrong reasons. But you? You’re different. That’s why I’m askin’." He stepped a little closer, his fingers lingering at your waist. "But if you’re not lookin' for all that, we can keep it casual. Just see where it goes, you know? No pressure."

You swallowed hard, feeling the pull of him, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. It was insane—completely reckless—but there was something about him that made you want to take that risk. Still, you nodded, keeping yourself grounded. "Yeah… casual," you agreed, offering him a small smile. "We’ll see where it goes."

Remy’s smile widened, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Good," he murmured, leaning down to brush a soft kiss against your forehead. "I’ll call you, cher. Ain’t no rush."

With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from your waist as he led you out of the room and toward the exit. The night air was cooler than you expected, and the city was still buzzing with life outside the venue. Remy walked you to the street, his hand briefly resting on the small of your back before he gave you one last lingering glance. "Take care, bébé," he said softly, before turning and disappearing back inside.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your heart was still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of his words and the possibilities they held. But before you could get too lost in thought, Nat appeared, practically jogging up to meet you.

Nat’s eyes widened the moment she saw you wearing Remy’s shirt, and a sly grin spread across her face. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her amusement.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s… it’s a long story," you muttered, tugging at the hem of the oversized shirt self-consciously.

Nat raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Uh-huh. And that shirt? Did you steal it right off his back or…?"

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "He gave it to me, okay? My shirt was missing a button." You paused, glancing away for a moment before deciding to tell her the rest. "Remy asked for my number."

Nat’s eyes practically bugged out of her head. "Wait, what? He asked for your number?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, biting your lip. "And… he asked me to go with him on tour. In Europe."

Nat stared at you in disbelief, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before she finally found her voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Remy LeBeau asked you to go on tour with him in Europe?" She shook her head, laughing in astonishment. "What the hell are our lives right now?"

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the absurdity of the situation finally sinking in. Just last night, you were at a bar with your best friend, trying to forget about your ex and blow off some steam. Now, you were standing outside a venue, wearing a rockstar’s shirt, having just turned down an invitation to travel across Europe with him. It was surreal.

"I know, right?" you said, shaking your head as the two of you started walking toward the subway. "I don’t even know what to think anymore."

And with that, you descended into the subway, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Remy, of Europe, of everything that might come next.

[kurishiri]

william v.s. darius . . . william rex epilogue 🌹

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: very suggestive scenes that are awkwardly translated. also i translated this at 1am; you've been warned lmao

Kate: So we’re going shopping!

William: That we are. It’s become less crowded now, which would make it the ideal time for window shopping, right?

W: Let’s choose something together. One that would suit you.

Unlike the lively buzz of the street fair, where many people had gathered,

here, we didn’t have to worry about our surroundings, so we could walk at our own pace.

(Will knew that, so he invited me here.)

(…And the fact I could spend time together with him like that was a delightful reward as well.)

William: That outfit looks charming. It seems like it would fit your air.

Kate: Wah, this looks wonderful! It goes well with the skirt next to it too.

I was happy at how we walked side by side as well, in a good mood, and——

Kate: …Could we hold hands?

William: What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same.

When his beautiful fingers touched mine, our fingers intertwined together.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I squeezed his hand back, when…

Kate: Ah.

As if being led away, my eyes stopped on something,

with that something being a crimson red ribbon that went with a dress that left quite an impression.

When William followed my gaze, he narrowed those red eyes.

William: Indeed, I can easily imagine you in that.

W: Then, this dress is for you.

—— Time skip; William’s room ——

Kate: …How does it look?

I tried on the dress that I had gotten as a present as soon as we returned.

In response, Will, who was sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes, making their way from the top of my head to my toes.

William: Would you mind spinning around for me?

Kate: Like this?

When I did as I was told, the crimson ribbon fluttered.

William: It does suit you.

Kate: Thank you. Then I’ll be wearing this on our next date.

I looked down at myself, biting down on the feeling that sprung from within me,

when I realized the way he was looking at me.

His gaze on me seemed to hold a bewitching smile,

and I felt a familiar twinge that had been locked within me resurface.

Kate: …Will.

I found myself drawn to him, until I stood right across.

Kate: I want you to kiss me.

William: ——Then come here, my robin.

With that invitation, I sat atop his legs, and when our faces drew together, close enough where I could feel his breath…

His hands caressed my cheeks.

Those eyes, the color of blood, held a hint of amusement.

Kate: …Don’t keep me in suspense like that.

William: Hehe, my apologies.

W: I simply wanted to see more of you being honest with your desires.

Becoming more excited with how his fingers teased my lips, I took his finger into my mouth. [1]

William: ……… [surprised]

W: Pfft, haha. It makes me happy that you’d like to have a taste of my fingers as well.

W: But then you won’t be able to kiss me like that, right?

Kate: Ah…

Withdrawing his thumb, half-open lips met with one impatient for a kiss.

Kate: Mn…

His tongue slipped in, giving me a numbing sensation as they playfully intertwined together——

And when he let go, he gave a small smile.

William: …You are free to decide what it is your heart seeks and what you would like to do.

Kate: …I know.

William: And perhaps your heart may change. Our feelings can’t be restricted, nor should they ever be.

W: Of course, not by others, and not even by ourselves.

Kate: …So that is to say,

K: I am free to do as my heart wants. And even in this very moment [2], I love you, Will.

William: Yes, I figured as much.

Kate: Huh?

William: Your heart is close to mine, and we are not separated in the slightest.

W: That is how my heart feels——at any moment in time.

Kate: Will…

My lover before my eyes seemed to always, no matter in which moment in time, take pleasure in unraveling what was in my heart.

Feeling this, I…

Kate: If we stack even these smallest moments… they can become an eternity.

William: …Indeed.

Our lips met once more, being fondled affectionately in my mouth.

William: And I would like to have a taste of you, to my heart’s content.

W: If it is as you say, and these small moments can become an eternity… I would like to embody it.

Kate: …Will…

When I kissed him, he sought me deeper.

William: Should we take it to the bed? Or…

Kate: …Haa… I want more… like this…

William: …I imagine it would be quite frustrating to move, after all.

With the ribbon of the dress undone, my chest relaxed [3].

As if the wrapping of the present was removed, my skin was now exposed,

and my nipples gave way to my desire.

William: …Kate.

With his lips calling my name, his tone filled with emotion, pleasure rushed through me.

William: Could I engrave my feelings in you?

He sucked on my breasts, leaving a mark as red as his eyes.

The throbbing in my core excited me and trickled within me,

and I welcomed his palm as it slid in——

While indulging in the sweet excitement he gave me, I tasted the pleasure of this small moment in time.

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

NOTES:

[1] I wasn’t sure how to phrase this; part of it may be like midnight or 1am translating, but I also wasn’t completely sure how to translate this part of the line [その指先をはむりと含んだ] (sono yubisaki wo hamuri to fukunda) as well. So I’m mostly kind of guessing based on the context of the lines that come after.

[2] Kate uses the word [刹那] (setsuna) here, which means a moment or instant, though this particular word, unlike another similar meaning word, [瞬間] (shunkan), [刹那] is derived from the Sanskrit word kshana, which in Buddhism refers to the “shortest possible interval of time.”

[3] They say here [胸元が緩む] (munamoto ga yurumu), where [胸元] refers to like the chest or breast area (but can also mean the solar plexus), while [緩む] means like to loosen, slacken, relax, that kind of thing, both for tangible things like parts of the body and intangible things like rules. I’m not really sure exactly how to translate this, but it’s probably referring to how a woman’s breasts are bare, without the support of anything like a bra.

END NOTES: the difference between will and darius' end was interesting, like how they both treated the boy. they're probably trying to hit home the differences between them... which darius seemed to pick up on. i wouldn't say i'm very good at translating william, per se, but i did enjoy his story as well, and just the way he spent time with kate and darius! i feel they highlighted a lot of characteristics of his here that i feel many would like, appreciate, or be drawn to.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

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I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we���re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

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