#and if he talked to mark before they left

[punkshort]

Just This Once

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: After yet another argument with your dad, his buddy across the street is there to help make you feel better.

Warnings: no outbreak, language, smut (18+ MDNI), age gap, hurt/comfort, reader's mom is dead, reader has hair (length unspecified), size kink, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk

WC: 5.8K

"Your mama didn't leave all that money in her will for you to piss it away on some bullshit degree!"

Your father's hurtful words ring loudly in your ears on a loop when you storm outside, screen door slamming shut behind you.

"Asshole," you hiss under your breath repeatedly. You clench your fists tightly at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms and leaving angry little marks in your skin. Gravel crunches under your sneakers, each heavy footstep slicing through the peaceful quiet of night as you head towards the road, where your car is parked. Unfurling one hand, you reach into your purse for your car keys only to drop them in your haste. Metal skitters across asphalt and you curse again before bending to pick them up.

"The hell you doin' makin' all that racket?"

You snap your head up and peer into the darkness across the street. You recognize the voice but don't see the man - Joel Miller.

Joel has lived in the house across the street ever since your family moved to this side of town when you were a teenager. He mostly keeps to himself but throughout the years, he and your father grew pretty close. Whenever one of them needed help moving furniture or working on their trucks, they were there for each other. He was there mowing his lawn when you were taking pictures for your first formal dance. You'd see him and his daughter, Sarah, at every birthday party throughout the years. He sat next to your dad on your front porch wearing matching scowls the night your high school boyfriend brought you home from your very first date. And he was there on the day of your mother's funeral, wearing a black suit and slicked back, wavy hair with his hands clasped dutifully at his waist, looking stoic and forlorn.

"J- uh - Mr. Miller?"

You hear ice rattling in a glass and your eyes focus on his front porch, barely making out his broad shadow as he sips his whiskey.

"You havin' a tough night?" he asks. You huff and scoop up your keys before standing.

"Just another joyous dinner with my dad."

You note his silence and you cringe. What were you thinking? Of course he's not going to want to hear you speak badly about your father. So you clear your throat and try again.

"I'm just kidding-"

"You want a drink?"

Your eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He's sitting in one of his two adirondack chairs with a bottle of whiskey on the table in between. He picks the bottle up by the neck, swirling it around so you could see it. Your nose wrinkles at the thought of drinking whiskey but you find your feet moving in the direction of his house anyway. As you climb the stairs to his porch, he catches your eye and cocks an eyebrow.

"You're old enough to drink now, right?"

You roll your eyes and collapse into the chair next to him.

"Been old enough for a few years now," you mumble.

He doesn't have a spare glass outside so he tips back what's left of his drink before pouring some more and sliding it across the table for you.

"That's right. You gotta be... what? Twenty-three now?"

You shake your head and wince when the liquid passes your lips, leaving a trail of fire all the way down your throat.

"Almost twenty-six."

"Shit," he mutters to himself. He sighs and relaxes back into his chair, eyes drifting across the street to your father's house, then you do the same. The longer you sit in silence, the more your shoulders loosen up. That is, until Joel speaks.

"What had you all worked up?"

You roll your eyes and reach for the glass again, then decide against it. One sip is enough.

"Same fight we always have," you grumble. You stare at the windows, curtains pulled tight but not tight enough to hide the flicker of blue light from the television in the living room. Based on the time, you guess your dad is watching sports highlights. Or the news.

"'N what's that?" he asks.

"College," you say simply. Joel twists his head to look at you.

"College?" he repeats. "Thought you dropped out."

"I did," you tell him a little harsher than you intend. "But only because I didn't want to go to school for economics. Or nursing. Or biology. Those are degrees he deems worthy of the money my mom left me, but I don't want to do any of that."

"What do you wanna do, then?" he asks gently. You turn to meet his dark gaze and you're struck by how thoughtful and attentive he looks.

"Well," you begin, taking a deep breath, "I really love photography. So I want to go for my fine arts degree, but my dad thinks it's a waste."

You brace yourself for the reaction you're used to getting: a snort of disbelief, a cruel laugh, a shake of a head. But to your surprise, Joel smiles.

"I think that suits you."

You give him an incredulous look before jokingly pointing at the bottle. "How much have you had to drink?"

He laughs now, a deep sound that rumbles from his broad chest and makes the wrinkles next to his eyes and mouth deepen when his smile widens.

"Just had the one," he answers before leaning forward a bit in his chair. "I say it suits you 'cause for as long as I can remember, I saw you with a camera in your hand, takin' pictures of just 'bout anythin' you found worthwhile."

"You remember that?" you ask softly. Joel heard the awe in your voice and he tries to act nonchalant, giving you a casual shrug and a nervous scratch of his greying beard before replying.

"Yeah. Sure I do. Had Sarah beggin' me for a fancy camera two Christmases in a row," he says. You catch the way his eyes soften at the thought of his daughter and it makes you smile.

You sigh after a minute of silence. "Why can't my dad see it?"

Joel shrugs again. "It's different when it's your own kid," he explains. "You want somethin' steady. Somethin' practical, so you don't gotta worry 'bout 'em."

You hum under your breath and let your eyes drift back across the street, where the television was now turned off and your father's bedroom window glowed yellow. He must be getting ready for bed.

"How's Sarah doing, anyway?"

"She's great," he answers. "Studyin' abroad in Spain for the semester. Miss her like fuckin' crazy, though. Place is real lonely."

When you tilt your head to look at Joel again, you're surprised to find him already gazing at you, but something about it feels different. Like the air is suddenly charged.

You open your mouth to say something but when his eyes drop to your parted lips, the words die on your tongue.

Then, as if he noticed the shift as well, he blinks and looks away, clearing his throat.

You should have taken it as your cue to go. It's late and you still have to drive back to your apartment downtown, but something keeps you planted in his chair. Something that tugs at you, a curiosity that grows somewhere in the back of your head.

Something that wishes he would look at you like that again.

"No lady in your life to keep you company?" you ask boldly.

He cracks a small smile and shakes his head. "Nah. Hard startin' over at this age."

Your chest aches a little when you see the brief look of sadness cross his face, which he quickly shakes off.

"How 'bout you?" he asks, and you feel your heart skip a beat. He locks eyes with you again. "You got a guy you're lookin' to have struck with the fear of god by me 'n your old man?"

Joel smirks at his joke and you could politely laugh and answer, but instead you keep your gaze fixed and without a flicker of humor, you murmur, "Nope. I am very unattached at the moment."

His smile falters and across the street, the light in your dad's bedroom turns off. Your tongue shoots out to quickly lick your lips and you aren't sure what burns more: the remnants of whiskey or the heat from Joel's stare.

He looks like he's debating on how to answer. Similar to yourself, he's sensing something unexpected building, something you are both trying to tread around lightly. Finally, the devil on his shoulder wins the fight.

"Find that hard to believe."

The air feels paper thin. Every inhale seems to make you feel dizzier, but you know it isn't the air - it's him.

"Oh?" you breathe.

He nods, looking more determined now. Confident. You feel your cheeks grow hot and you're grateful for the cover of night. Fortunately, his intense gaze drops to the table between you, giving you a second to gather yourself. But he really does only give you a second because he asks, "Didn't care for the whiskey?"

You shake your head. "Not much of a whiskey girl."

"You wanna come inside? I can get you somethin' else."

Come inside. Your heart beats fast and your legs shake from how hard you're pressing them together. Is he just being polite or is he asking what you think he's asking?

And if he is asking what you think he's asking... is that something you want?

Joel's a good looking guy, especially for his age, but you never thought about him like that before. But tonight, spending time one on one, you are privy to a different side of him. One that listens to you and apparently pays attention to your interests. It has you seeing him in a completely different light.

"Yeah," you whisper. Your voice sounds a little thicker than you expect and it has him smiling as he stands. He picks up the glass and the bottle, then nods towards his front door. You swallow, force yourself to your feet, and follow him inside.

It looks different than you remember, although in reality, it probably had hardly changed a bit. Same old carpet, same couch, same television... It wasn't so much the house, but the reason you were there that made it feel strange. You weren't there to visit Sarah or come scoop up your dad when he was drinking too much watching some football game with Joel. You're there for something else, and more importantly, you're there alone for the very first time.

"What can I get you?"

"Hmm?" You swivel around to face him, hoping your nerves weren't showing now that the soft glow from his kitchen lights illuminated your face.

He gives you a knowing smirk and points to his fridge. "To drink?"

"Oh," you say, "uh, just water."

Joel frowns. "You sure? I got beer, tequila, and some fruity shit in a can that Sarah left."

You're tempted to take something stronger but ultimately shake your head. He pulls a glass from his cabinet and fills it with chilled water from a pitcher in his fridge while your eyes dart around the room. You smile to yourself. The place is clean but there were certainly signs a bachelor lives there. There's a calendar on the wall that's a month behind, a dirty skillet in the sink, and coffee grounds scattered on the counter next to the canister.

"Here," he says, handing you the cold glass. You take it and bring it to your lips, watching as he pours himself a small splash of whiskey. He stares down at the brown liquid, contemplative, like he was struggling to make a decision. Then, as if he found his answer, he tosses the drink back in one go and nods before catching your eye again.

"Am I-"

Joel cuts himself off with a dry laugh. His palm swipes over his mouth nervously before trying again.

"Am I, uh, readin' things wrong? Or is there somethin' goin' on here?"

Your heart rate spikes at his forward question but you give him credit - he's putting the choice entirely on you. He's giving you an out. However, you swallow thickly and shake your head.

"No," you all but whisper. "You're not wrong."

You shakily place your glass on the counter next to you, knowing full well you are about to cross a very dangerous line, but the utter excitement swirling in your stomach and the arousal pulling between your legs has you ignoring all of the potential consequences of your decision.

Joel stares at you in shock from his place next to the sink, as if he can't quite believe his ears.

"You're shittin' me, right?"

His voice is laced with so much disbelief that it has you feeling kind of high, so you smirk and take a few steps forward, hoping you're coming off as assertive. You don't really blame him for being surprised. Hell, you even surprised yourself tonight, but something told you that you wouldn't regret your choice.

"No," you reply slowly, and this time you allow your gaze to travel down his chiseled jaw and across the broad expanse of his chest, making sure there was no mistaking your attraction for him before locking eyes again. "Unless... do you want me to go?"

Joel's eyes flicker nervously towards the front of the house and you wonder if he's thinking about you leaving or what your father would think if you stayed.

You get your answer soon enough.

"No," he says firmly. And in one long stride he closes the distance between you, wraps one arm around your middle, and tugs you forward while pressing his lips hungrily against yours.

It steals your breath at first, the surprising softness of his lips combined with the burning remains of whiskey on his tongue. It's so much better than you expected, too. He's gentle in the way he holds you and guides you backwards, yet there is no mistaking his eagerness when his tongue tangles with yours. The coarse hairs from his beard burn your chin in the most delicious way and you wonder when this is all over, if you still feel that tingle every now and then as a reminder.

Every backwards step towards his living room has the heat flaring hotter between your thighs. Your fingers claw at his shoulders, searching for stability, for something to keep you on this planet because you swear if you let go, you would just float away. You have no idea what's come over you, but you can't remember ever wanting somebody this badly before.

Your legs collide with the couch and you're both so lost in tasting one another that you stumble a bit before clumsily collapsing onto the cushion. Without breaking the kiss, you throw your leg over his lap. Your hands drift up to his thick, wavy hair and his find a home over your ass, fingers plucking uselessly at the denim shorts you had on.

The only sounds that fill the room are the ticking from the clock on the mantle, your shared heavy breaths, and the creaking from the leather couch underneath your knees. That is, until you roll your hips forward, grinding down on his lap. Joel lets out a deep groan and you swear you feel a shudder shoot through his whole body.

"Christ," he rasps, pulling away so he can catch his breath. You smile as you trail kisses down his neck, pleased with how wrecked he sounded already. His hands knead the flesh of your ass as you make your way down. Your tongue dips into the hollow at the base of his throat, licking up the dried sweat and moaning at the taste when he asks, "Are you sure 'bout this?"

He sounds conflicted, like the last thing on earth he wants to do is stop, but his moral compass got the better of him. You unlatch yourself from his neck and sit up straight, hips slowly grinding down on his lap as you gaze down at him with heavy lidded eyes.

"I'm sure," you tell him, voice firm and certain. You feel the corner of your mouth curl when his swollen lips part to release a soft noise when your clothed center rubs along his cock, stiff and straining in his jeans.

"Okay," he whispers, messy curls flopping forward when his chin drops to watch you move. "Just this once."

A thrill shoots through you, electrifying your limbs and jump starting your heart.

Your head falls to capture his lips in one more wet kiss before you push yourself off the couch to stand. Joel remains seated with his legs spread wide and he watches with his chest heaving as you unbutton your denim shorts, letting them playfully fall to the carpeted floor.

You're feeling pretty good. Your confidence is through the roof at the way Joel's jaw drops a little when you slide your panties down your legs, but it was short lived.

You lean forward to help him with the zipper on his jeans and his hips lift so he can shove the fabric down, just to his knees, apparently too eager to rid himself of them entirely. You allow him the honor of pushing down the band of his boxers and your breath gets caught in your throat when you see the size of him for the first time.

Just like that, your confidence washes away and your eyes widen. You think you can handle his length but it's his girth that gives you pause.

It's as if your composure transfers right to Joel because he clocks your reaction and he smirks with a smug look on his face. His fist wraps tightly around his cock when he says, "It's alright, you can take it. We'll go slow."

"Okay," you say softly. You straddle his lap again, knees sinking into the soft leather, as you both stare down at his leaking shaft between your bodies. Slowly, you rock your hips, letting him slide between your folds and you gasp when the tip of his cock catches on your clit with every pass.

His hands rest on your waist, gently helping you move back and forth while he watches in awe as you cover him with your slick. Your eyes flutter closed and you sink your teeth into your lower lip, breathing in deep through your nose and feeling your muscles relax. Every time he slips through your folds, the ache in your cunt grows tighter.

"Fuck, J- uh, Mr. M-"

Your hips still and you open your eyes as the realization hits you both at the same time that you have never called him by his first name before. It should have filled you with shame or at least some guilt, but instead you feel yourself dripping even more sticky arousal onto his skin. Joel feels it and chuckles.

"Think we're past formalities, darlin'."

Your eyes flash in the darkness of his living room and you give him a sly grin.

"Yeah, guess so," you breathe, hips resuming their slow pace up and down the underside of his cock. "Unless you're into that sort of thing..."

Joel growls and his hands dig into your waist, moving you a little faster on his lap.

"Way you're soakin' me, I'd say you're the one who's got a thing."

You laugh breathlessly and circle your arms around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth closer, needing to feel his lips on your skin once again.

"Maybe I do," you admit, mostly joking when you lean in to graze your lips against his ear to give it a try. "I want you to fuck me, Mr. Miller."

Joel's teeth find your shoulder and he gives you a playful nip, but other than that, he remains stoic. So, you try again.

"Think I'll be sore tomorrow, Mr. Miller?" you prod. His dick twitches between your legs and his breathing stalls, but still, he says nothing.

You briefly think you might be crossing a line, but you go for it anyway when you whisper, "When you see my dad tomorrow, are you gonna be thinking about this, Mr. Mill-"

Joel tosses his head back so he can grab your jaw, cutting you off with his thumb and forefinger digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. His eyes look fiery and his teeth grind together as he stares daggers at you. For a second, you think you fucked up, but then he says, "You gonna run your mouth all night or are you gonna sit on my cock?"

A wide smile breaks across your face but it's restricted by his firm grip on your jaw. You shuffle onto your knees, raising your hips in the air so you could line him up at your entrance, but then he releases your chin and stops you.

"Wait," he murmurs, then two fingers slide through your pussy, collecting your arousal and making you gasp at the contact. Your eyes lock and he pops both fingers in his mouth with a groan. His eyelids droop closed for a moment as he savors your taste, the sight causing your mouth to go dry and your knees to feel weak.

"C'mere," he rasps, hand curling around the back of your neck and pulling you down. Your mouths collide and his tongue slips easily past your lips, offering you a taste of yourself while his other hand holds himself steady and nudges at your opening.

Slowly, you begin to sink down. The stretch gives you pause almost immediately and you whimper into his mouth. With one hand still cupping the back of your head, he breaks the kiss but presses your foreheads together as you both fight for air.

"'S okay, take your time," he says, but his voice is strained and his words are slurring, already feeling drunk off you.

You nod and try to take more. Another inch disappears inside you and your thighs tremble as you focus on breathing.

"You're so big," you whine when you take another inch. A shaky breath slips past his lips and his hand tightens around the back of your neck.

"Easy," he warns when you try to go too fast. You cry out softly and pause again, frustrated that you can't take him faster. Joel senses it and presses a kiss against your lips.

"Don't rush," he says, "wanna really feel you."

Just this once. You suppose since this wasn't going to happen again, you should make it count. Go slow, like he says.

"Touch me," you whisper, your nose brushing gently alongside his. Your eyes close and your fingers curl into the tense muscles of his back, then you sigh with relief when his thumb grazes your clit.

"Like that?" he asks, swirling circles over your bundle of nerves. You nod.

His touch softens you and you feel your muscles stretching and relaxing as you press further down. It's when you are nearly seated in his lap that his lips feverishly seek out yours once again, slotting together and muffling your moans when your hips grow flush with his.

"Y-you-" he stammers against your lips as you both work on adjusting to the feeling of your cunt wrapped snugly around his sizable length. He swallows and tries again. "So good, darlin'. S-so tight, fuck-" he groans, then flexes his hips, pushing himself as deep as he can possibly go. You wince and cry out, but he shushes you. "'S alright," he pants, "I got you. Just... just stay still a second, okay?"

You nod, mind a blur as he wraps his arms around your middle and buries his face in the crook of your neck. He sighs and slowly flexes his hips again, but it doesn't hurt the second time. You rest your cheek on the side of his head and close your eyes, allowing him to do whatever it is he wants to do.

His hands roam greedily around your body, thick fingers stretching to touch as much of you as possible. You feel his heart hammering in his chest and you think yours might be beating in rhythm with his, but you can't be certain because all your focus is drawn to the fullness between your legs and the soft noises emanating from the man underneath you.

"Talk to me," you whisper. His hands still and you hear him swallow.

"Say my name."

You don't process it at first, mind still slow and foggy like you were drunk, but you only had one sip of whiskey. Then, you realize what he wanted.

"Joel."

He groans, the vibrations transferring from his mouth to your chest. One of his hands slides up your thin shirt and pushes up your bra to cup your breast. "Again."

You moan his name and tip your head back, curling your spine so you push more of your chest into his palm. Two fingers pinch and roll your nipple and you gasp, then whisper his name again.

Just when you think you can't take much more and you will have to resort to begging, Joel melts into the couch and gazes up at you with the softest pair of eyes. He looks like a completely different man: his face is relaxed and he stares at you like you're the only two people on earth. Like you weren't his friend's daughter and there wasn't anything wrong with what you were doing. He looks at you like he's just a man and you're just a woman who holds the secrets of the universe in her hands.

He doesn't ask you to move, but he doesn't stop you when you slowly begin to rock your hips forward, either. The first few passes are tough. The stretch of his cock sliding in and out of you, even just a little bit, is an adjustment. But the more you move, the easier it becomes, and all the while Joel has his eyes pinned on you. He sees the way you screw your face up when the pressure is too much, then the way your brows relax and your breath evens out.

"How's it feel?" he asks when it becomes clear you are no longer in discomfort. You roll your hips steadily and link your arms around his neck.

"Good," you say truthfully, "so deep, and so full."

"Yeah?" he asks. "Anyone ever been this deep?" He punctuates his question with a snap of his hips and your mouth falls open. You find it difficult to answer when he's thrusting upwards, the power behind it already forming a dull ache somewhere deep inside you, so he asks again.

"No," you whisper.

"Yeah, that's right," he grumbles. He drops his gaze to watch you bounce on his lap, to watch the way your cunt spreads to accommodate him. Both his hands curl around the tops of your thighs as you move, squeezing your muscles like he needed to confirm you were real before sliding his palms up to rest on the crease of your hips.

You have no idea how you'll ever be satisfied with another man ever again now that you've felt what it's like to have Joel split you open and chase away every stressful, lingering thought from your brain. Just this once, just this once, just-

"More," you gasp, thighs tight and aching from supporting your weight. His fingers press into your skin and he begins to guide you, moving you up and down as he stares deep into your eyes.

"So soft," he murmurs. Your skin prickles at the wonder in his voice. "Everythin' 'bout you is so warm 'n soft. Gonna drive me fuckin' crazy, darlin'."

You move a little faster and you wish you had the foresight to pull his shirt off earlier. You want to see him - all of him - so you drop your hands to the hem of his shirt and slide them under it, instead. His breath sharpens when your palms run over the soft swell of his stomach, fingers mapping every inch of his skin and piecing together what he must look like from touch alone. Then, your hand sweeps over his heart. You feel the rapid thump right there, right under the pads of your fingers, and his dark brown eyes find yours. They look a little wild, a little wrecked, but mostly they look at you with adoration while you continue to ride him with every ounce of strength you have.

His breath grows ragged, just like yours. You easily drop yourself down onto his lap over and over, body now fully relaxed and open and accustomed to his size. He grunts each time his cock disappears inside you and his jaw starts to tighten when he meets you, thrust for thrust.

"Look at you," he breathes, "takin' me so well. Perfect little cunt, fuck-"

Your eyelids flutter and your mouth drops open, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to your peak. You can feel the heat pooling low at the base of your spine and your breathing is reduced to sharp gasps.

His hands push and pull your body up and down - fast - and it has your fingers digging into his chest for balance underneath his shirt.

"Shit... feels so good," he moans, jaw slack and eyes glassy as he watches you whine and writhe in his lap. Sweat dots your forehead and you feel that familiar crest swelling deep inside.

"Joel-" you pant, voice cracked and hoarse. He blinks and catches the way your hips stutter. His hands slide up your back and press you forward, into his chest, and you tiredly slump against his shoulder.

"I got you," he murmurs before harshly snapping his hips. You moan his name and squeeze your eyes shut, the new angle stealing your breath and making your thighs shake. A hand presses on the base of your spine, pushing you down and holding you still while he fucks up into you. Each bruising thrust has you whimpering into his neck but you're so fucking close, you just sit there and take it until the dam breaks and you practically scream out his name, your voice echoing off the walls in the dark, otherwise silent house.

He's saying something but your ears are ringing too loudly and your blood is pumping too fast for you to make it out. His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your back and his voice is soft and calming and it's exactly what you need.

The ache between your legs forms into a burn from how hard he fucks you, chasing his own high now that he knew you were taken care of. Your lips press weak kisses against his throat. You feel the vibrations from his grunts and the salty taste of his skin when you whisper inside before he can even ask.

"Yeah? Want me to fill up this pretty little pussy?"

His voice is thick and rough. You peel your eyes open and tip your head so you can watch his face contort and his mouth fall open. He breathes sharply when his cock swells inside you and you smile at the instant relief painted across his face. His palm still flattens against your lower back, holding you in place as he pumps you full of his release. Then you feel his muscles relax and his grip around you loosens with a deep sigh.

"Christ," he murmurs after a long stretch of silence. You giggle and he grins before his hand cups your jaw and pulls you up for a kiss. It's so tender that it leaves you breathless and you hardly even notice he's sliding out of you until a sharp pang deep inside reminds you and you whine.

"You did good," he says softly, still holding you close in his lap. "Feel alright?"

"Mhm," you nod with your lower lip pulled between your teeth. He gives you a lazy smile and pushes a stray piece of hair away from your face. Your heart lurches at the sweet gesture and you smile back.

A car slowly lumbers down the street, between Joel's and your father's houses. It draws your attention outside and you frown at how dark it is.

"What time is it?"

Joel sighs and squints at the mantle clock. "Almost one."

"Shit," you mutter, then go to stand. "I should get going."

"You can stay," he says quickly. You are in the middle of picking up your clothes from his floor and you pause to meet his eye. He shrugs. "I mean, if you wanna."

Place is real lonely. His words from earlier filter through your brain and you feel guilty when you shake your head.

"I ... I can't. My car - he'll see."

"Oh," Joel whispers, then nods like it's no big deal. Like he was just being nice with his offer and it didn't matter to him either way. But you saw the disappointment in his face before he dropped his chin to fix his pants and a sharp pang splits your chest.

He stands to adjust his pants and you excuse yourself to use his bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you rifle through your purse for a pen but come up empty. Instead, you pull out a tube of lipstick and you grin when you scrawl your number on his mirror. You shove it back in your purse and fix your hair before descending the stairs to find him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water. He holds out your glass from earlier and you shake your head.

"I'm gonna head out then," you say.

"Alright."

He walks slowly behind you, holding open the door to the quiet night air when you turn to look at him one more time. You know it's a little risky, but it's late, your dad's house is dark, and you're quick. You stretch up on your tiptoes to give Joel one last, lingering kiss, then step backwards onto his porch.

"Thanks for tonight."

He laughs quietly and leans against the doorframe. "I should be thankin' you."

You don't say anything. You grin and take a few more steps backwards before swiveling around and jogging lightly down his steps. When you make it to your car, you resist the urge to look back to see if he's still watching you from his front door.

You smile to yourself as you drive down the empty street, the dull ache between your legs and the burn on your skin from his beard both pleasant reminders of your unexpected evening.

But later that night, when your phone pings with a text from an unknown number right as you're getting ready for bed, something tells you it will be more than just this once.

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[i2sunric]

HAPPY VALENTINE’S, BABY (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you decide to get your nails done for valentine’s day, fully expecting they’d be wrapped around heeseung by the time you got home.

WARNING: smut, blow job, established relationship, mentions of creampie and sex, hand job, dirty talking, pet names (baby), meandom!heeseung, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

WC: 1.1k

PUBLISHED: February 4th 2025

TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi @enhamonsterghoul

a/n: well, sorry for disappearing, but i’m into writing again nowadays and might publish small drafts i was able to finish! let me know if you liked it, and please REBLOG & SHARE!

You'd spent the afternoon in the nail salon, finding just the right shade of red-deep, sultry, the color of wine and desire. The little black "H" painted onto the ring finger of your left hand was inconspicuous, but meant the world. A little mark of him, a reminder that no matter what, you were his.

Heeseung was already home when you arrived, sprawled across the couch and scrolling through his phone. At first, he barely looked up, greeting you with a soft, lazy, "Hey, baby."

But then you moved closer, holding out your hands for him to see, “Got my nails done for Valentine's," you said matter-of-factly, watching as his expression changes.

His eyes landed on your fingers, his brow arched a little as he took in the color, the ribbons you had attached, then— his initial.

The phone fell onto his lap as he reached out and tugged you closer into him. The pad of his thumb brushed over the small "H," and his jaw slightly clenched.

"You did this for me?" His voice was lower now, the playful tone replaced with something darker, something more possessive that never failed to make heat pool at your stomach.

You smiled, all fake oblivious "Of course. Who else would it be for?"

Heeseung’s lips curled into a smirk, but his grip on your wrist tightened. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and full of intent. "You know what I’m thinking, right?"

You did. Oh, you did.

He pulled you onto his lap, guiding your newly manicured fingers to brush against the bulge in his sweats. Even through the fabric, you could feel how hard he was getting just from the thought alone.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head tipping back for a moment before snapping back to you. "You knew what you were doing getting these, didn't you?"

You tipped your head, innocently . "What do you mean?"

Heeseung let out a low, amused chuckle, but there was nothing light in the way he reached out, grasping at your chin and making you face him.

"You wanted me to see these and think about them wrapped around my cock, mh?" His thumb traced your lower lip, pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch. "Wanted me to lose my mind over you?" He then pressed in between your lips, making you suck on it.

Your stomach had contracted at his words, the heat pooling between your legs. You loved how he was like this— when teasing turned to something more, more intense and overwhelming.

"You're staring really hard, Hee," you whispered, letting your fingers trace up his chest, your touch light and teasing. "You wanna test them out?"

He exhaled sharply through his nostrils, the hold on your waist tightening as he shifted beneath you. "Get on your knees, baby."

The order ran a shiver down your spine, but you listened, falling off his lap and onto the floor between his legs.

He leaned back, hips rising enough to tug his sweats down and free his cock. Already hard, the tip glistened with precum, and the sight alone had your mouth watering.

"Show me what those pretty nails can do," he murmured, voice thick with desire. You wrapped your fingers around him, moving slow at first, letting him feel the cool polish against his hot skin. His breath hitched and his jaw clenched as he watched your every move.

"Fuck, that's so hot," he groaned, his hand tangling in your hair. "You have no idea how much I love this, baby."

You smirked, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his tip before flicking your tongue against it, savoring the way his grip tightened, his thighs tensing beneath you.

"Happy Valentine's, Heeseung," you whispered before taking him into your mouth, giving him exactly what he wanted.

The groan that tore from Heeseung's throat was guttural, deep, like he'd been waiting for it all day. His hand in your hair fisted tighter, but he didn't push, didn't hurry you. He wanted to enjoy it.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, voice already breathless as you took more of him in, your freshly manicured fingers stroking what your mouth couldn't reach. The cool gloss of the polish against his heated skin had him twitching in your grasp, his thighs tensing beneath you. "I’m gonna ruin you.”

You hummed around him, making him curse under his breath. His head tipped back against the couch as his chest rose and fell unsteadily with your movements in slow, measured tempo, allowing your tongue to swirl around the tip before sinking back down.

His free hand was clutched on the edge of the couch, his knuckles white. "God, you're so good at this," he groaned, looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes. "Look at you— fuck, you love this, don't you?

You met his gaze, your eyes wide and innocent as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened; his hips jerked up just slightly, just enough to make you gag. But you didn't pull away.

The wet sounds filling the room were sinful, your hands moving in sync with your mouth, twisting around his length with practiced ease. Heeseung was falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the muscle ticking.

“Shit, baby,” he panted, his head tipping back for a second before he forced his gaze to go back to you, dark with something almost feral. “You’re gonna make me come so fucking fast.”

You smirked around him, moving faster, your nails gliding against his sensitive skin in just the right way. His hips stuttered, his body going tense as he let out a strangled groan.

Then, he pulled you off him as his hand tugged at your chin, making you look up.

"Not yet," he huffed out huskily; his thumb made a swipe of your swollen lips. "I wanna come inside you.

You barely had time to react before he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands grasping your waist, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss.

“Ah, you're in for it now, baby,” he whispered against your lips, hands sliding under your dress. “Gonna fuck you so good you'll be needing a whole new set of nails by tomorrow..”

And from the way he manhandled you onto the couch, you knew he meant every word.

[withlovemark]

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and ���😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

[tojisteddy]

Yes, I do think Toji is canonically forgetful.

He’s forgetting the grocery list even though you wrote it for him so he wouldn’t forget but it gets lost anyway because he forgot where he put it. He’s going through the isles and getting what seems right because he can’t remember what’s in the fridge and can’t ask you cause you’re at work.

The list was in the back of his wallet.

There are always sticky notes around the house of random notes, ‘to-do’ lists galore. He always has to do a pat down of himself before he leaves the house, ‘keys, wallet, phone’ always in that order. He’s the type who’ll remember whatever he forgot once he was right outside and he’ll circle back in the house to retrieve whatever he forgot.

He plans out dates, but doesn’t remember the time. And is always two embarrassed to ask you because it’s something he set up for you. So he’s racking his brain as he gets ready, looking through the plethora of notes left around the house until it finally clicks. He’s running to meet you, buying a bouquet of flowers at the train station and dashing like his life depends on it.

Of course he makes it. 15 minutes late, but he makes it nonetheless.

Cursing up a storm at the up tight hostess to, ‘move out my fuckin way! My spouse is in there!’ Flowers slightly crushed in his hands, a little out of breath and he takes you in, who’s got an amused look on your pretty face.

“Shit, you look good mama.”

Toji is always going ‘huuh?’ ‘who?’ ‘mmh?’ and ‘what?’ Touching the top of his temple with his fingers like it’ll help him remember. It doesn’t.

And it’s a complete surprise, when he gets home and a confetti popper goes off in his face. Both of your dogs are barking, one with a Spider-Man suit on and the other with a pink party hat, the dinner table is properly set with his favorite food, he favorite wine to match, Panic by The Smiths playing from the living room, you’re in his favorite black dress that hugs your hips and your tits look perfect. And there’s a banner with a few painted paw prints on it, an angry mark and ‘Happy Birthday Toji’ in large bold letters.

Oh, his birthday.

Was it that time of year again?

He’s forgetting your friends names, nodding like he remembers but he has no fucking clue who you’re talking about until you bring up some memory of the two of them meeting and then he’ll remember.

And of course, he’s forgotten your anniversary and birthday before. It frustrated you, so you’d go on about the night like it was nothing. A birthday dinner with friends and some with their spouses but shit, it would’ve been nice for that ass hat to be there.

But then you’d get home, setting the gifts from your friends down and kicking off your heels. But there are candles burning, those damn sticky notes are scattered on the kitchen counter, all with your name and ‘don’t forget!’ written on them. And his journal, which you’ve only seen a couple times since you’ve been with the older man, was wide open with your birthdate written at the top of the page. And multiple lists of chicken scratch filled the two pages full to the brim and you’re sure they continued to the next page. All of things the man loved about you.

From your curly hair, eating habits he found cute, your pretty tattoos, your chestnut skin glowing in the sun light, from the way you fuckin blinked your brown eyes— all of it was there.

Toji was fucked up in the head, from his past to now— life wasn’t easy on him and it showed. From the way he reacted to things, to how forgetful he was. It came from the trauma. But you made life worth living. He’d be damned if he forgot even a minuscule detail about you.

You walked to the sound of your favorite playlist coming from the backyard. The dogs were there, both adorned with party hats and they came running at the sight of you and there Toji was. Plain black shirt and black jeans, muscles flexing as he fixed some fairy lights with a party hat tilted to the side like a fuckin idiot— just how you liked it.

You looked back at the clock on the oven; 11:43 pm.

A breathless laugh came out of you. Sniffing, fanning your face as tears danced on your water line because you paid a cute penny to get your makeup done for your big day.

Toji heard you, and made his way towards you. Words couldn’t express how sorry he was but he didn’t bother saying it. He knew it wouldn’t comfort you, fixing mistakes did though.

He was trying. You knew from this birthday set up to those notes he’d leave around the house, the multiple calendars— he was really trying. And sooner than later he’d get it right because he loved you and would do anything to prove that he loved you.

He grabbed the last purple party hat that read ‘birthday girl’ and set it atop your well defined curls that was parted to one side, you’d spent an hour trying to get right. Toji took your face in his large hands, gently rubbing at your cheeks, fuckin adorable.

A kiss to your eyelids, your temple, then your pretty dark brown lined, matte lips.

“Happy birthday Doll.”

a/n: couldn’t stop listening to Everything by Kehlani while writing this. On a really bad Toji kick rn.

[drunktuesdays]

MR FRODO!!! DONT GO WHERE I CANT FOLLOW!!!!!

i'm no happier about this than you are. do u understand how long i've escaped hockey.... i mean, i'm not an animal. i've sampled their wares. i've perused their markets. and on cold nights when there was nothing left in my "marked for later" tab, i've gone hunting on their land. but i've never bothered to learn enough to picture them. do you know i've read almost every good fic in the sid/geno tag and only i found out what geno looks only like two years ago? i've been STRONG. except i guess that time sashayed ALMOST got me into that one retired guy who i thought was so fucking hot but no one ever wrote fic or posted about him so it didn't go anywhere.

anyway what i'm saying to you is that i don't like what's happening for me. unfortunately, grace, it's hard times over here. i'm almost done my biannual reread of the 2 million word fic where harry potter becomes part phoenix. i'm BORED. I AM BORED!!!!! and when i scroll and i see my friend talking about a man absolutely humiliating himself because he's desperately jealous that he wasn't featured in an instagram post? i'm supposed to SCROLL PAST two boys giggling and whispering because they've never experienced this feeling before and don't think anyone else has?? HELLO. i'm interested. i'M INTERESTED. i don't wanna watch hockey and i swear to god if anyone tries to teach me ONE thing about the game i will SCREAM!!!! but i also want very very very badly to read about them frotting until it kind of hurts and then secretively thinking like, "did we invent doing that.....no one else can possibly have figured that out....."

[vershautece]

u not liking the stretch marks u got during ur pregnancy but they make lu go feral

yessss he would make sure u know how perfect u are, you’d start feeling insecure during sex and he’d hate that

imagine you’ve just got on top to ride him but you look down at yourself and remember about your stretch marks: ‘um lu i don’t know if im in the mood actually’ and you go to get off of him but he pulls you back onto his lap

‘hey? what’s wrong, you were just all over me?’ he’s looking up at you concerned

‘um yeah i don’t know, it’s just-’

his hands are rubbing softly over your hips, and you look down at the stretch marks there, feeling bad that you don’t look as good as you did before your pregnancy. you have some on your inner thighs and your boobs, and of course on your stomach - yesterday you guys had sex for the first time since you gave birth, but it was in the dark so you didn’t mind. now he can see the marks all over you, and you desperately want to cover yourself and not bother him.

‘hm? what is it, baby girl? are you still not ready to start having sex? i only instigated it because you seemed happy last night’ he’s still looking up at you with worry in his eyes, and you lean forward into him, wrapping your arms around his neck while he wraps his arms tight around your waist. he kisses your cheek and waits for you to answer

‘i didn’t wanna say anything because i’m embarrassed, but uh, i’m not really in the mood because i feel bad that i’m, y’know, not at my best for you’

‘baby, what do you mean? you were fucking amazing for me last night, i thought i told you clear enough’ he laughs, his hands drifting down to grip your ass. all you can think about is how you’re on top of him and if you lean back again he’ll be able to see every single one of the marks on your skin

‘yeah, i mean i don’t look my best, y’know?’ you get embarrassed just telling him this, anxiously playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. as soon as you say this he gently moves your head back to look into your eyes, while you try to look away. ‘huh? what do you mean? amore - look at me’

you make eye contact with him, and the way he’s looking up at you with so much concern has you melting. ‘my stretch marks, they’re literally all over my body’ you sigh, going forward to rest on his chest again so he can’t see them. ‘yeah, and what? hey - baby, stop hiding your pretty body from me, sit back up properly’ he speaks to you in that deep, honeyed voice, shifting you so you’re sat back up on him again

‘lu stop it i know i don’t look good, that’s what happens after pregnancy, it doesn’t matter’ you sigh, and he clenches his jaw at the way you speak about yourself. one of his hands rubs at your right hip, the other moving to play with the fingers on your left hand. ‘i don’t wanna hear you talk that way about yourself, okay? you have these marks because you carried and gave birth to our baby, and there is nothing sexier to me than making love to the mother of my child. you understand?’ he doesn’t break eye contact with you, and when you try to look away he uses one of his hands to turn your face to him. ‘c’mere’ he whispers, bringing your lips to his and caressing your waist. when he pulls away, he smirks at you: ‘you didn’t even give me time to play with those perfect breasts’, now he’s pressing kisses down your neck, ‘tell you how gorgeous they are… grip your waist and hips, press kisses along your stomach down to your thighs…’ you’re starting to rock your hips onto him now, getting back in the mood as he praises you, your wetness dripping onto his hardening cock, hands pulling at his curls.

‘te amo, bellissima. you gonna let me show you how perfect you are for me?’ he stops kissing your neck to look up at you. ‘mhmmm, yeah, thank you baby’ you moan, humping his erection. he laughs at you softly: ‘i knew you were in the mood, my love. c’mon, let me make you feel good - gonna give you this cock every day from now on, it’s been too long and i need to treat my beautiful girl, need to get your perfect body to cum for me’

‘i love you, luigi - mm - i’m so lucky to have you’ you’re rocking yourself even more desperately on him, as you grip his cock to guide it inside. but he holds your wrist to stop you: ‘hey, not yet, let me eat you out first.’

‘mm, luigi, do that after, i’m so desperate for you, baby - and you can touch all of me in this position. god, i need you to fuck me, please’ you’re whining on top of him, and he laughs as he holds your left hip in one hand and guides his cock into your pussy with the other. ‘so much for someone who wasn’t in the mood, hm? you know you were being so stupid, dolcezza’ he whispers, pushing in the tip. you moan out loudly, and he laughs. ‘shhh, you’re gonna wake our baby. and that’s just the tip, my love’

‘mmm, so big lu’ you whine, gripping his shoulders. ‘oh i know, i know, mhm’ he coos. ‘it’s a good thing she was at your mom’s yesterday when i basically took your virginity again, you were screaming for me all night’ he laughs softly. you’re still struggling today though, and you bite your lip to try to stop the sounds. ‘i’m gonna rub your clit while i push in slowly, okay?’

‘mhm’ you moan in response, and he starts to draw teasingly slow circles on your bundle of nerves as he gradually pushes the rest of himself in you and bottoms out. he groans at the feeling, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you whimper. while he gives you time to adjust, his attention turns to your breasts, pressing soft kisses around your areolas without sucking on your nipples because unfortunately for him, they’re for your baby right now. ‘so fuckin’ pretty… you don’t think these marks are sexy?’ he mutters against your skin, drifting his fingers over your stretch marks before gripping both of your breasts tightly and kneading them in his big hands.

‘lu, mmm, be careful, i might leak’ you moan, and he smiles up at you with a slight smirk, moving his hands to your ass. ‘it’s okay if you do, it’s natural - you ready for me to move? i’ll do all the work for you, just want you to rest on my cock while i thrust up into that pussy, yeah?’

‘yes, that’s fine baby’ you grip his shoulders so tight in anticipation, and he plants his feet on the bed, bends his knees and starts his thrusts, setting a steady pace. ‘mm, luigi, fuck’

‘that feel good, hm? yeah, baby girl? takin’ it so well’ he groans, squeezing your ass and moving his head to get a better look at it. ‘gonna show you that ass in the mirror later, those marks make you look even sexier than you did before - i didn’t think it was possible, mm’ his thrusts get faster now, and he smacks your ass lightly. you squeal, and he chuckles and reminds you to be quiet: ‘sh, princess, remember she’s asleep in the next room’

‘how am i supposed to stay quiet when you fuck me like this, mmm’ you’re breathless and you’re not even bouncing; his thrusts are hitting your g spot perfectly and it’s too much to take already

‘we’re gonna have to start practicing staying quiet for our girl ‘cause i need to start fucking you every night again like we used to’ he lands another soft smack on your ass, and you drag your hand down to play with your clit but he moves it away swiftly and replaces it with his own. ‘bella ragazza, i’m still doing everything for you at least for the next two weeks, mhm? you just take my cock, let me make you feel good, that’s it baby girl’ his fore and middle finger work so perfectly on your sensitive clit, and you’re so in love with how he treats you that you instinctively lean forward to make out with him. your tongues meet, and you moan into each other’s mouths, the pace of lu’s fingers and his thrusts never faltering. the hand on your ass comes up to caress your cheek as you kiss, and after a couple minutes he pulls away, feeling your walls clench around him.

‘oh, amore mio, you gonna cum for me, yeah? lay on my chest, baby’ he pauses his thrusts for a moment as he lies down just a little so you can lay on him - he’s still sat up slightly to continue pounding up into you. when he resumes his thrusts you’re biting your lip so hard so your daughter doesn’t hear, fingers tight in his curls and you’re getting extra stimulation from the way your breasts are pressing against his chest, rubbing up and down his pectorals with the pace of his thrusts.

‘luigi, fuck, baby’ you’re a moaning mess, and you start to feel your boobs lactate a small amount onto his chest. you feel a little embarrassed, but you know he wouldn’t mind and it’s his fault for stimulating your body so well. his hands are gripping your ass tight, smoothing his fingers over the stretch marks there and on your hips as he thrusts up into you impossibly faster.

‘i love you my princess, cum for me - you’re so beautiful, love feeling you’ he whispers into your ear as he moves one hand to caress your hair and the side of your face, pressing sweet kisses on your forehead. when you’re both getting so close, he wraps his arms around your waist protectively and you can hear his soft grunts in your ear. you’re so desperate for your release that you’re rocking your hips back onto his cock, moaning into his neck. ‘i love you, lu, you’re everything to me’ your words get muffled against his skin

‘dolcezza, you’re the perfect mama - wanna give you my last name, give you more of my babies’ his grunts and soft whines directly in your ear paired with his words and his thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven

‘i want that so bad, mm, baby, i’m gonna cum’ you’re so fucked out against him, your words coming out incoherently.

‘yeah, me too princess, aw c’mon, we gonna start making another baby, huh? want me to keep fucking you raw every night? i love your body so much’

you’re so glad you’re pressed against his chest so your moans are muffled because otherwise you’d be screaming. ‘yeah i want your cum, oh please lu, give it to me, oh god i’m g-’ you cut yourself off with a strangled moan as you get your release, and moments later you feel his hot cum spill inside you, a loud groan leaving his throat. you’re both breathing heavily for a while, playing with each other’s hair. you’re so cosy on his chest, and you don’t ever want to move. ‘baby, don’t pull out’ you mutter into his neck, and he smiles: ‘you want my cum so deep, huh?’ you both giggle, and he continues whispering to you: ‘hold on, i’m serious now, amore - do you really want another baby so soon? i’ll get you plan b and we can start using protection again - i’m not pressuring you, beautiful. i wanna have more kids but it doesn’t have to be anytime soon’

you pull away from his chest a little to look into his eyes, caressing his curls. ‘luigi, i don’t mind. after going through the first pregnancy i know i’m ready for another baby whenever you are. they say that after giving birth you forget about the pain and you just want to do it all over again’

he smiles down at you: ‘that’s great baby but i don’t think i’m gonna let you get pregnant just 3 months after giving birth - let’s wait, i’ll just start pulling out cause i’m never making you go on birth control’

your heart melts at his words, and then you smirk at the last part. ‘you sure you’re gonna pull out every time? i don’t believe that’

he raises his brows at you: ‘what, you don’t think i can? you’ll see i have more self control than you think’

‘mmmkay we’ll revisit this conversation tomorrow’ you roll your eyes playfully, resting back on his chest again, and you giggle to yourself knowing your man is going to struggle like hell to pull out of you in time every single night :3

[luvfae]

INFINITY LOOP

summary: you’re in a toxic relationship with thanos but you can’t get enough.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: toxic relationship, mention of cheating, swearing, smut, p in v, absolutely no foreplay or aftercare involved, unprotected sex (wrap it, don’t be a dummy), choking

The door slammed shut with the force of a collapsing star. Again.

You didn’t flinch. You were used to it by now—the way Thanos had a flair for dramatic exits. You stared at the dent his last punch had left in the drywall. Add it to the collection.

Five minutes. That’s how long it usually took.

You lit a cigarette. The ritual helped. Inhale. Exhale. Pretend you weren’t waiting to hear his footsteps stomping back up the stairs like some vengeful god who’d just realized he left his phone behind.

Seven minutes.

Okay, maybe he was serious this time.

The thing with Thanos was—he was always serious. Until he wasn’t. His promises shattered faster than the cheap glass ashtrays you kept buying because he’d break them during your arguments. And you’d break his heart right back, not that either of you had one worth saving.

Your phone buzzed. Incoming call: Thanos.

You smirked, didn’t answer. Let him sweat. Three more missed calls, and then:

“Open the door.”

No apology. Not even a please.

You opened the door anyway.

There he was—stormy eyes, bruised knuckles, breath heavy like he’d been running. Maybe from whoever he’d been with before he came crawling back to you. Again. His jaw clenched, like he had something to say, like this time would be different.

It wasn’t.

You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him inside. His lips crashed against yours like you were the last planet left to conquer. His hands roamed like they forgot all the reasons he was supposed to hate you, tracing old scars—some emotional, some not. You bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He liked that.

“I fucking hate you,” Thanos growled, his breath hot against your lips.

You smirked, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pushing him hard until his back hit the wall with a satisfying thud. “Yeah, right,” you whispered, eyes dark with defiance. “You fucking love me.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he might say something—something real. But words were never your language. Violence was. Lust was. The sharp edges of affection carved into bruises and bite marks.

Thanos grabbed you like he was trying to prove something, hands rough, unforgiving. He spun you around, shoving you down onto the couch, tugging at your pants with a growl that rumbled from deep in his chest. No patience. No pretense. Just desperation.

Good. You liked it desperate.

His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you in place as he drove into you without warning. The sharp stretch stole a gasp from your throat, head falling back against the cushions, eyes fluttering shut.

But Thanos wasn’t about to let you escape into the pleasure. No, he wanted you here, wanted you present—wanted to see every flicker of satisfaction and spite warring on your face. His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to remind you who was in control.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he hissed, his other hand slipping between your thighs, fingers ruthless against your clit.

You laughed, breathless, the sound sharp and bitter. “Shut up,” you spat, hips bucking into his touch. “Make me come and shut the fuck up.”

His eyes darkened, something savage flickering behind them. “Whore,” he snarled, thrusting harder, each movement punctuated by the venom in his voice.

“Cheater,” you shot back, nails raking down his forearm, leaving angry red trails in your wake.

His hips stuttered for a second—just a second—because you both knew it was true. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. This was how you punished each other, how you forgave each other, all in the same breathless, broken rhythm.

“Like you can talk,” he muttered, his pace brutal now, like he was trying to erase every memory of someone else’s hands on your skin. His face hovered close to yours, breath ragged. “Ain’t no pussy as good as this one, though.”

Your smile was feral, a wicked curl of lips that tasted like victory. “No dick compares to yours,” you whispered, voice trembling with the edge of an orgasm. “But you always fuck me better after I’ve been with someone else.”

That hurt him.

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing your smug words, and his hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. You moaned against his palm, the sound muffled but desperate, your climax hitting you like a freight train—sharp, all-consuming, leaving you breathless and trembling.

The way your body clenched around him dragged him over the edge, a guttural curse spilling from his lips as he came, hips jerking, breath hot against your temple.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of your ragged breaths tangled together in the stale air.

Then he pulled out, standing up without a word, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he walked out that door again.

Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow.

Later, tangled in sheets that still smelled like his cologne and someone else’s perfume, he lit one of your cigarettes.

“You’re toxic,” he muttered, exhaling smoke toward the cracked ceiling.

You laughed, dragging your nails down his chest just to watch him shiver. “Takes one to know one.”

By morning, he’d be gone again. Maybe with someone new. Maybe with the same regret he always carried but never unpacked. You’d break up, block his number, swear this was the last time.

Until next week.

Until the next fight.

Until the next call.

The infinity loop. Your favorite kind of hell.

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (Rewritten)

I know everything. The things beyond weapons drops across the border. And yet I stay quiet. Until I can't. Being a marked one, being a friend of Xaden Riorson doesn't mean I am granted unfiltered access to information of what goes on beyond Navarre's walls. But it should when lives are lost and rules change. My compassion doesn't make me weak. My dragon chose me. I am meant for more.

A/N: This fic is updated on my AO3 as well. Here. Happy Reading! Gonna try to update once or twice a week but as you know, life happens so we'll see! xoxo K

The quadrant is in chaos. 

Finding out who is alive, who we all lost - it’s a mess. The only thing I can focus on, however, is the fact that they aren’t back. 

He isn’t back. 

I wish I could comfort you, flare. Rathnait whispers to me in the library of my mind. For a brief moment, guilt consumes me. Gripping my throat with the threat of tears and a scream. A failure of a rider -  not able to even give her a reprieve from the onslaught of my emotions. That she must feel it all with me down our bad. 

A low growl as she narrows those golden eyes of her’s at me. Talons tick nervously on the flight field, vigilant over my every move and breath. All I can do is stare at my dragon vacantly. Streaks of dark copper highlighted her grace, her beauty - running down the length of her neck and down each of her legs. Rathnait was a sight to behold, and I was only grateful to be considered worthy to be hers. Her scarlet colored scales glistened in the setting sun, as if mirroring the sun itself in all its bright glory. Her swordtail flicked in the air back and forth, as if it were involuntary. We must not get ahead of ourselves, you would feel it if something happened to him. Don’t you dare assume what I can and can’t handle. Shutting me out only hurts you in the end.

My shaky hands outstretch, desperation to run them against the warmth of her scales. Her nose to my chest, needing to feel the steadiness of her breath on my clammy self. She nudges me gently, trying all she can to ground my spiraling thoughts. 

How could this be happening? How did it come to this? All that will be left is bitter words and unspoken longing for a man who didn’t choose me.

~

“Xaden is already bending the rules with bringing Violet along, I can’t ask him to risk your well being as well,” Garrick murmurs in my ear as we watch the tense showdown between Dain and Xaden. Ignoring the sting in my chest is a feat itself, having to wrinkle my nose to rid myself of  the tears that threaten to fall.

“You're not even gonna try, after everything? You just expect me to watch you go? You’ve been keeping secrets, Garrick. This seems like part of one of them.” Stepping away from his hold, the warmth long gone from the two of us. My desire to punch him, to yell at him at the very least - gods why doesn’t he ever choose me? 

Rathnait glowers at both Garrick and Chradh, his brown scorpion tail - the irritation evident in her golden gaze. Unrelenting. Every tone, every unsaid word she analyzes and catalogues. Watching me get hurt right before her very eyes, and not in a physical way is something she doesn’t stand for. Teeth as sharp as steel snap towards Chradh, the brown dragon pulls away in shock towards the obvious display of aggression. Garrick’s jaw shuts and clenches at the show the dragons are putting on, his ever composed features faltering at the anguish I knew he could see in my eyes, could hear in my voice. 

Just say the word, flare. I’ll teach him to treat you with more care. Rathnait snarls at Chradh as he tries to nudge her affectionately. I don’t want to put her in an uncomfortable position, to push away her growing care for Chradh. You let me worry about that. Chradh knows you are the one I chose, the one I will always look out for.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish we had time to talk more, but right now I would rather know you’re safe with the rest of your squad. Your anger towards me is worth it if I am guaranteed your survival,” I watch as he makes sure his flight gloves are secure, flexing them before flickering those earth toned eyes towards me. My heart cracks a little bit more - all I want to do is scream. To shove him and get him to see that this is hurting me, is crushing me. How much more can I let slide? How much more can I take?

“And what about you? What if you don’t come back?” The very thought is enough to have my knees lock and heart stutter. 

Xaden and Violet make their way towards their dragons. Squads have begun to launch to their respective posts. Dain and I are being waited upon by Second Squad. 

“I’ve survived too much to lose now. I’ll be back and we can talk - I’ll tell you everything,” Garrick promises, stepping forward to plant a soft kiss on my temple. Clutching his flight jacket, I can’t help it as tears fall down my cheeks. 

“It seems like you might lose me though.”

 Turning around to follow my squad leader, ignoring the curses from Garrick, ignoring the way in which my squad watches me with grimaces and pity. All for fucking War Games, all for nothing. Being co-section leader means nothing to me, Dain can be in charge for all I care. Steps that feel like bricks on my feet, it’s all the energy I can muster towards the group, needing the familiar, needing their constant. Ridoc opens his arms, bringing me in for a brief tight embrace. Sawyer offers a wavering smile.

“Are you gonna be ok?” Rhiannon softly asks, wiping my wet cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile graces my lips, hands busy with making sure my own flight jacket and gloves are secure. It takes everything in me to not watch Garrick and Chradh take to the sky, having to believe that he’ll be ok, it’s all that I can allow myself to think of. 

Xaden didn’t even glance my way, Imogen or Bodhi - no one. As if the rest of the marked one’s had decided together who should and shouldn’t go. Guess I made the cut. My own relic curved over my fingers and wrist - briefly burning as if answering to my very thoughts. 

“Let’s go get this over with.” Quickly scaling up Rathnait, she chuffs at me, making sure I’m secure in my seat. Let’s go flying, Ray. Take me towards the sun. Sending my devotion to her down our bond. She launches quickly, wings flaring gloriously. The rest of the squad is quick to follow. 

I’ll always make sure you’re near it, flare. The light will never die in you, not even from this pain. 

At least she always chooses me. 

~

It’s been 10 days. 10 days of agony. 

I’m the only third year left. 

Expected to carry on my co-section leader responsibilities as if the absence of Garrick is a minor inconvenience. The early sun rises with a flourish of pinks, reds and oranges and all I can do is relish in this fleeting moment of peace. 

No one seems to care or notice that they aren’t back yet. My only anchor, my only comfort is from that of my dragon. Spending many hours against the curve of her back, staring up at the sky in hopes of seeing or hearing familiar dragons, of hearings wings. When I’m not near her, our bond is wide open. The familiar fire red tether in my mind ablaze with every thought and emotion that runs through us. A warmth of what I could only describe as security floods down the bond. 

We can’t worry about things that haven’t been confirmed yet, flare. She knows my true questions, the things that I can’t bring myself to ask or think about. You must think about today, where we will go. 

Graduation day. 

Today would be the day we’ve been waiting for since entering this school, assignments to outposts were being given, and by this evening I would be gone, my journey at Basgaith over. Turning away from the river, I make my trek towards the flight field. The few third years left of this school congregate, awaiting as Colonel Aetos and Commandant Pancheck begin the assignments. 

“Congrats on graduating, Section Leader. It is a shame that Wingleader Riorson and Section Leader Tavis aren’t here to accompany you.” Colonel Aetos nearly sneers at the mention of Xaden. The obvious disdain is unsettling as he rifles through different papers. “Ah yes, your assignment. Due to your signet and the savagery of your red swordtail - you’re being assigned to the eastern wing…specifically, Samara.” The grin directed at me is maniacal, a joke I’m not privy too, a dare. Rathnait snarls in my mind, unbridled rage igniting the very blood in my veins - but all I can do is take the papers from his hand, saluting in acknowledgement and walking away.

Where are you, Ray?  Hands tremble, the crinkling of paper beneath slender hands is all I can focus on as I sprint towards my room. Can’t be out in the open, can’t let them see, can’t let anyone see what will surely be my own falling apart. My own demise. 

You will not fall apart. An outpost is just a different place, as if you haven’t endured years of people hating the very ground you stand on. As if you haven’t been bonded to me. 

I make it to the middle of an empty hall that leads towards our sleeping quarters, knowing in a matter of moments the rest of the cadets will be awake to get into formation. Pressing the heels of my hand into my eyes, I can’t help but rest my back against the cool stone behind me. My own body feeling as if it had everything sucked out of me, the very air I breath feels strained.  

Samara is the front line. Trying to get the ever rising beat of my heart under control, I must not panic. I am a rider. I am Rathnait’s rider.

Are you afraid, flare? I shudder at her question, not wanting to admit the fear, the panic. But I know that she can feel everything, hear all that I think. 

They aren’t here. He isn’t here. A whimper escapes my lips, the reality of it all just crashing down like rubble. I will be going to Samara, there is no avoiding it, there is no changing it. While I had spent years trying to survive Basgaith, I would be sent to one of the most active posts in the region. 

“Section Leader? Ar-are you ok?” Dain Aetos stands before me, hands out as if approaching a scared animal. “We need to get to formation.”

I don't hate the kid, knowing that following the straight and narrow path is the life that is meant for some people over others. However, that doesn’t mean I want him to see me having a mental breakdown. Giving him a small nod, I manage to get myself to stand before fully looking at the Squad Leader. 

Something’s wrong. My own senses are beginning to go haywire. My signet. Only Xaden and Garrick knew. Command and Basgaith are under a different impression as to what it is. None of the other marked ones knew either. The manipulation and detection of emotions however was a daily venture, there was no turning it off, there was only controlling it and living with it and right now Dain Aetos was a mess. 

“I would ask you the same thing, what’s wrong?” Dusting off my flight leathers. I don’t miss the way he flinches at my question, his hesitancy. “Do I have to give an order to know?” Glowering at him - I am still a section leader. 

Taking a deep breath, he stands tall despite the sorrow in his eyes, “Xaden and the rest of the squad he took with him are being declared dead at formation.” I startle myself at the immediate sob that escapes my lips. My body has accepted what my mind cannot. “Leadership has been looking and there is no sign of them.” Feeling the agony of his own loss, it feels as if a tidal wave has pulled me under. The roaring from Rathnait in my brain feels as if it will explode any second. Dain’s grief, his regret all barrel into me with no filter, no shield. Rathnait’s confusion and rage down the bond. My own sorrow, my own heartbreak. There is no stopping it. There just is feeling it. Unaware of the stream of tears that roll down my face, the taste of salt jolts me out of the shock, the horror. 

“Round up everyone, squad leader. I’ll be at formation in a moment.” My voice doesn’t feel like my own, the assignment papers feeling like large weights in my hand. He turns away to head towards the Quadrant, “Dain,” I call out, sounding like a garbled mess. “Thank you for telling me.” His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods. 

My flare. I hear her call out, though to reach out seems like so much energy, all I can do is let her in with no barriers, allowing her to be there in the comfort of my mind. I’m coming, flare. 

Standing at the bottom of the stone dias. Everyone in formation, I don’t bother to look around. There is no one here to look for anymore. There is no Wingleader, there is no co-section leader - there is just me alone at the front. 

We don’t even have our leader. What hope is there for the revolution? Rathnait has no answer for me. 

To look at my squad is the last thing I am able to do, not being able to endure their unsaid questions. Answers? I had none. Being known for being put together, not a hair out of place, no rumpled leathers, no dirt unless necessary was once a pride and pleasure I reveled in. I’m sure the current state of me was a shock. Strands of hair fell in front of my face, eyes dry and cheeks raw from the tears. 

Captain Fitzgibbons overlooks formation, reading off the death roll. “Violet Sorrengail.” A moment of silence as all eyes look to the stoic face of General Sorrengail. “Garrick Tavis.” My heart feels as if it bleeds on the very floor I'm standing on, flinching harshly at the reading of his name. “And Xaden Riorson.” Captain Fitzgibbon’s voice rings out echoing around the quadrant. 

“Well this is awkward,” a voice calls out. Gasps are heard around the quadrant, even command seems unsettled by what’s happening. My knees seem to be locked in place, unable to turn around and see what is going on. My breaths turn into small gasps of air - no no no it can’t be, I’m dreaming. Dain said. I need to wake up. Heavy footsteps approach behind me, and two individuals take up position on either side of me. A calloused hand brushes against my own. 

~

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of leadership. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, cheeks flushed and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. All directed towards the fumbling Colonel and Xaden.

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? Unable to hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, for a brief moment the hurt is detectable in those onyx depths, but in a blink it vanishes. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. And yet how do I differentiate between him and me and our emotions when all this time I thought he was dead? I thought he was never to come back? How do I ever look at him the same way after leaving me behind? “Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Anguish flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. To treat her as a lesser. However, in this very moment, the very reality I have endured through seems pointless. There is no belonging to the marked one’s or to a cause or to the protection of Violet and Xaden. There is nothing but the chasm in my chest at every word being revealed, at every tether holding loss and grief. And the worst part of it all is that in a matter of less than 12 hours none of this will matter, Basgiath won’t matter - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. Like always, being forced to move on. 

Making myself numb is a simple yet effective aspect of my second signet. The dying of emotions is a strange and vacant liminal space in my mind. Gone are the bright hues within the library. The dimming of my own tether to Rathnait. The rest of questioning -  I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - my cruel humanity unable to withstand her words at this moment despite her numerous attempts of ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There are words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like lead against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

~

A resounding cheer goes up in the courtyard as we are dismissed from formation. Everyone has their new orders and I watch as Ridoc, Sawyer, Nadine and Violet gather each other into a hug. Liam should be here with them too, I can’t help but think. Soleil should be graduating with us. Violet tries to catch my gaze but I am not one for appeasing our lightening wielder tonight. A tall figure blocks my vision of the squad, and I know who it is without having to truly look up and see.

“Wingleader,” I nod, staring blankly across his shoulder. “What can I help you with?” 

Xaden raises his hands as if to grip my shoulder, or Malek forbid, pull me into a hug. He must second guess himself though as he falters and his hand hangs limply at his side. “We need to talk, the three of us. And I’m no longer your Wingleader, we’re equals. We made it, flare.” 

Whipping my gaze at him, lips pulled in a snarl. “Don’t. I was never your equal, I was someone who helped you all get away with whatever bullshit it is you’re doing. I was the scapegoat. I was the distraction.” With each word, rage bellows in my belly. My shields must be faltering between Rathnait and I, because I feel like decking him, hurting him. I don’t bother lowering my volume, all sense of decorum out the window as cadets make their way across the quadrant. “I’m not even your friend.” 

Xaden flinches at that. 

“That’s not fair, sweetheart,” A raspy deep voice comes from behind me, calloused hands attempt to grab my own. Ripping them out of his grasp, I can’t help but ram my elbow into his side, the sound of wheezing only slightly satisfying. Xaden attempts to help him but the glare I pin at him leaves him immobilized . 

“What is not fair, sweetheart, is being left behind. Is not being there to help. Is not being trusted after everything I’ve told you out of faith!” Whirling around to face him, Garrick struggles to fully stand upright after my jab. “And now it doesn’t even matter. Excuse me, I have to go pack.” 

Hurt. Regret. All that I can feel from the two shocked idiots. 

****

Shutting me out isn’t the answer, flare. Rathnait snarls in my mind. There is nothing my dragon hates more than to be purposely shutout from me. If I can’t reach your during moments of distress, how can I help you?

Sometimes I don’t want help, Ray. Sometimes I just have to feel it. Folding the rest of my clothes and putting away what few belongings I do have, I’m able to rest for a moment on the bed. The wooden figurine of Rathnait sits on the window, all I can do is watch it. 

Liam was so sweet. Eager to please, eager to excel - and training him was something that I actually found fun. He was the little brother I never had. Someone who could bring me back down from the emotional highs, someone who made me laugh when all Xaden and Garrick wanted to do was be serious. When he made the figurine of my dragon, Rathnait herself chuffed in amusement at how endearing she found Liam. He was just so filled with light that this hellhole had to swallow it up and take it away. It wasn’t fair. 

A knock echoes throughout the empty room. Already knowing what is to come, I steel myself for the inevitable emotional onslaught. Adjusting my new officer flight leathers, I wave my finger to open the door, staying close to the window. 

Both Garrick and Xaden are dressed in their new flight leathers as well. A pack and sleeping pad hitched over their shoulders. Remorse written all over their faces I don’t even have to use my signet for that. 

“Is it ok if we talk in here?” Xaden asks. Yelling from the graduated cadets echo throughout the halls, celebration in all forms was everywhere tonight. Glancing away from their hesitant stares, the sound barrier shimmers slightly overhead as Xaden shuts the door. With a heavy, burdened sight, he slides against the door and sits on the floor, legs outstretched. It’s the least put together I’ve seen from him. Garrick sits on the bed, glancing at the wooden figurine with a wavering smile before glancing at me. I don’t make a move to sit by him, my arms cross as I lean against the window bay. No one says a word. The friendship the three of us had, seems like it teeters on the edge of the cliff. Well it seems like I’m the one starting this.

“I thought you were all dead. That all I had left was the memory of disagreeing with Garrick before War Games and watching my Wingleader not spare me a second glance as he makes his squad when I was meant to be a section leader as well.” Bland words escape me, trying to say something other than the yelling that I want to dish out to them. “And knowing I didn’t even get to see Liam before he -“ I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ve never asked, Xaden. I’ve never demanded Garrick tell me when I could easily hold it against him as someone he supposedly cared a lot about-“

“Care.” Garrick interrupts. Leaving no room for argument. “I care a lot about you, sweetheart. More than that. Don’t blame Xaden when I am just as much a part of this as he is. Be mad at me too.” His hazel eyes blaze with a fight I know he’s aching for. To yank the deadened words from my lips with something fiery, something that feels like more. Garrick doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

“You don’t think I’m mad at you too? Tavis, I am furious. I am heartbroken. I was resigned to a life without you, and now?” Gasping for air, I pound my chest for some sort of relief from the tightness I feel. Garrick is quick to try and help me but I raise my hand, ordering him wordlessly to stay put. 

“There are a lot of things I regret,” Xaden rasps, “You helped me, confided in me - and I didn’t do the same thing to you.” 

“I was ready to fight alongside the two of you if you had told me to. I would meet Malek with honor. I may not be like you or Imogen or Bodhi - that everything I feel is so much and bleeds with every word I say or person I interact with - “

“No, flare that’s no-“

“You act like I’m not even a marked one. That I am not a part of what you all are planning. I’m kept in the shadows so that command never suspects you all. You asked me to help train Violet. You asked me to be a constant, to be unwavering. For what? To be forgotten?” With each question, my shouts echo throughout my bedroom. Neither of them are able to meet my eyes. “I would die for Aretia.” The whisper in to the space between us hits their mark. The full realization of what I know - the understanding, make it’s way across their expressions, their emotions. Xaden rakes his fingers through his hair, clutching it almost painfully. Garrick staggers slightly, holding himself up by clutching the bed post. “And now? It’s too late. I have my duty station. Basgaith is done. My journey here is done.” 

I brush my signet along their emotional tethers, unable to break the habit of comforting them ever so slightly. Understanding that the two of them lost their brother, lost people that were a part of them. Garrick lets out a shaky laugh as he feels the familiar sensation of soothingness. 

“H-How did you know about that?” Garrick questions, eyes finally roaming over me in disbelief. 

“Did you not think I would know every time you would lie to me? That the drops you were making were all that you were doing? I don’t know anything else but the restoration of home, of our home? How could you not think I would defend that with every ounce of my life for you?” 

“It was never because I didn’t trust you.” Xaden looks at me with a resolve I don’t understand. He gets up slowly, standing tall. “If anything it was because I didn’t want to chance losing someone else we all cared about to. We lost Liam and Soleil too easily. I lost them. I’m the one who is responsible for you all.” 

Truth. Feeling his honesty. Feeling his belief. 

“Flare, if were to lose someone like you, too? You’re glue, you’re binding. You’re a bridge. The same way that Violet is.  You bring Navarre and Tyrrendor together with your compassion. With your grace and spirit. When others look at you, they don’t see a marked one. They see more.” A knuckle taps against his flight leather pants in agitation. "I took a chance and made a mistake and I’ll never be able to earn that trust back. But look into my tether and now that I’m so fucking sorry. That I fucked up.” Xaden pleads, “And selfishly I was looking out for my brother, knowing that if he lost you? There was nothing in this world that would bring him back.” His voice cracks as he looks over at Garrick, a hand on his broad shoulders. “I’d rather you be alive and hate me, whereas dead and I lose the two of you in the process.” 

A shudder makes it’s way past my lips, tears trailing down my cheeks. I felt exhausted, I felt confused and scared and so many other things and all because we we’re so fucking human it seemed like despite my signet, despite my bond with a dragon - I was still so susceptible to human experiences and emotions. 

“I’m being assigned to Samara,” I tell them, not being able to dance around that any longer. Both of them look at me with wide bloodshot eyes. 

“Say that again?” Garrick demands, making his way towards me. 

“Samara is my new duty station?” Confused as to their reactions. “I was assigned my station before the official formation. It’s a death sentence, one they thought they could give me since they thought you were dead and I was a loose end towards command.” 

Garrick and Xaden smile, both blinding and perfect. Garrick for the first time in what seems like ages, swoops me into his arms, clutching me tightly as he cradles the nape of my neck. He shakes in my hold, as if whatever energy he feels is suddenly constrained in his body. 

“We’ve been assigned there as well, we didn’t get to chose our station. I guess they forgot that they had put you there too,” Xaden laughs, watching the disbelief as I realize what this means. 

“You’re gonna be with me?” I whimper towards Garrick, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck feeling the tidal wave of emotions of all three of us. 

“Never leaving you, sweetheart.” He laughs again, rubbing his hands along my back, clutching my hair, doing anything he can to just touch me. It’s been ages since we’ve been near each other like this. I can feel Rathnait chuff in the back of my mind, her also understanding that she gets Chradh with her as well. 

“We get a second chance,” Xaden grins, although I know he means it more towards himself. 

“If by second chance you mean I get to be in, full in. Than yes,” I demand, untangling myself from Garrick, to look at both of them. Garrick clutches his hand in mine tightly. 

“You’re in, flare. However much you want to be involved in. Garrick and I will tell you everything, and from there -“ He nervously wavers, “From there you can fully decide what it is you want to do. There is no one else I’d rather station and fight alongside with than with you two. The three of us entered Basgiath together, we leave together.” 

Opening my arms, he rolls his eyes playfully - ever the grump. Garrick and I pull Xaden into our embrace, clutching each other tightly with relief. We weren't gonna go through death alone, we weren’t gonna suffer alone. Samara was meant to be our death sentence but maybe, just maybe - it wouldn’t be so bad. 

[tiki-was-here]

Billy Butcher x Male Reader [Part Two]

Word count: 1.4k

Somebody sedate me ofmggg. Decided i don't want to hear billy talk rn so i simply gagged him. Lowkey wanna throw rocks at his house and make him cry (our relationship is complicated rn).

Idk how this turned into a male reader when it was supposed to be gender neutral. Oh well. Also he drools a lot in this idk why I did that.

[Part One]

You didn’t think, you just acted. You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you, and kissed him hard. It was angry and messy, a collision of teeth and tongue that left you both breathless.

His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity. It was like all the anger and frustration had boiled over, spilling out into something raw and electric.

Your hand found its way to his throat, squeezing down hard enough that you knew there would be an ugly mark in a few hours. Your knuckles turned white with effort but that didn’t stop Butcher from leaning into your grip. Your kiss long forgotten as he chose to pant harshly in your neck. What a slut. Still, you wouldn’t get distracted so easily.

“Open up” you muttered, before unceremoniously shoving two of your fingers down his throat. You didn’t even have to tell him what to do, the brit immediately sucking like his life depended on it. Eyes rolling back and drool already rolling down his chin. It was always messy when you were with him but you weren’t complaining.

While he was making himself useful sucking on your fingers like they were the best cock he’d had in years, your other hand snaked its way down his front.

A wet patch had already started to form and he was unbelievably hard. You palmed him lightly, eliciting a muffled moan from his lips before eventually making your way to his hole.

Your fingers tentatively prodded his entrance, and to your surprise, he was wet.

“Such a slut for me aren’t you Billy” you cooed at him, thrusting your fingers in and out of his mouth softly. His entire shirt was now soaked with spit. “You couldn’t wait for me to come take care of you?”

The only response you got was a muffled “fuck you”

You chuckled “ I guess it’s only fair for me to have my turn now isn’t it?”

You grabbed his hair roughly and threw him to the ground, not giving a chance to breathe before pouncing on him, pin his thighs beneath yours, effectively trapping him against the ground.Butcher struggled against you, teeth bared in faux disgust.

You knew if he really wanted him off you he could easily do so, no one who's really struggling would arch up into your shallow grinds with such poorly hidden desperation. He wouldn't be propping himself up on his knees to better help you pull his boxers over the swell of his ass.

Shoving them in his mouth to keep him quiet, you decided to begin what you came here to do.

Because you felt like being a little bit nice today since Billy was being surprisingly quiet (and because you didn't want to hear him complaining about it the next day) you decided to finally remove your fingers from his mouth and got to work prepping him.

Your fingers entered him with little resistance. Starting with two you slowly worked your way deeper, purposely avoiding that bundle of nerves you knew Butcher was eager for you to find.

Just a few seconds of teasing got you frustrated whines from the man beneath you, squirming in his place underneath you.

He was so cute like this, face flushed red and tears gathering on his eyelids.

“You know Billy, sometimes I wonder how the rest of the team would look at you if they knew how much a whore their ‘beloved leader’ is”. You pulled your fingers out of him, instead replacing it with the tip of your cock, which was now red and weeping from the lack of attention.

“Could you imagine it?” you teased pushing into him slowly,”Standing in front of Homelander knowing that I had my dick inside you just moments earlier?” You felt him clench at that…what a whore.Your thrusts got faster, deeper, as all the frustration you've felt bubbling up inside you came (lol) up to the surface.

“You’d like that wouldn't you? Fighting him with my cum still dripping out of you?”. He frantically shook his head no as he ‘screamed’ what were surely muffled expletives from behind his makeshift gag. But you didn't need to listen to his answer to feel the way he clenched pathetically around your cock. You stored that info away for later, teasing him about Homelander was fun, but today was about him taking what you gave him, and you getting what you needed.

Your thrust reached a brutal pace, muffled moans and whines bouncing off of the thin walls of the motel. You could feel the pleasure building up in the pit of your stomach, and you knew that you were close. Reaching your hand under Billy’s hips, you stroked his cock at an unrelenting pace, desperate to make him come before you.

You wanted to record this moment, tears flowing freely down his face, the wet smack of your balls hitting his ass the only thing coming close to being louder than his wails. It was a wonder as to how he still had his boxers in his mouth, the poor material now darkened with drool. Still, as Billy reached his peak, you silently thanked it as it was surely the only thing keeping you from being interrupted with a noise complaint.

The brunette seemed to be in his own world, his tough guy persona long gone as he shook silently beneath you, his softening cock trapped between the floor and his cum stained stomach. You followed close behind, soft grunts escaping your lips as you emptied your load into him, before promptly collapsing next to him, chests heaving in unison.

-----------------

You knelt beside the tub, running your fingers through the warm water, testing the temperature.

Billy sat on the closed toilet lid, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a tired sort of curiosity. His usual sharp, biting demeanor was dulled,

“You gonna sit there all night or actually get in?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder.

He huffed, shaking his head. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to take care of you since you clearly won’t.”

He gave you a look but didn’t argue. With a sigh, he stood, peeling off his shirt and stepping into the bath. The water sloshed as he settled in, leaning back against the porcelain with a long exhale. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and for once, he looked peaceful.

You sat on the edge of the tub, trailing your fingers through the water. “You can’t keep doing this, Billy.”

His eyes cracked open. “Doing what?”

“Losing it like that,” you said, voice soft but firm. “Tearing people apart just because you’re angry. Lashing out at me when you don’t know what else to do with yourself.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“You want me on your side?” you continued. “Then you have to trust me. And you have to keep yourself in check.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched. He looked like he wanted to argue, wanted to push back just for the sake of it. But instead, he let out a long breath, staring at the water. “Not exactly my strong suit, love.”

You dipped your hand in the bath, letting the warm water slip between your fingers. “I know. But I also know you’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

Billy scoffed, but there was no real bite to it. “That so?”

“Yeah,” you said simply. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

A beat of silence passed between you, thick with unspoken things. He swallowed, shifting slightly, like the conversation was making him physically uncomfortable. You could see it—he wanted to apologize, admit that he’d gone too far. But Billy Butcher wasn’t the kind of man who could just say sorry. It wasn’t in his nature.

Instead, he reached out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, a small, unspoken gesture of remorse.

You sighed, shaking your head with a soft smile. “That your way of saying you feel bad?”

“Maybe,” he muttered.

“Wow. Huge moment for you,” you teased. “Almost like an actual human emotion.”

He gave you a flat look but didn’t let go of your hand. “Don’t push your luck.”

You squeezed his fingers gently. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Billy grunted, leaning back again, eyes slipping shut. But he didn’t let go of your hand—not even when the water started to cool.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Pretty Scars

Player 001 x reader [SMUT]

You stood breathless on the other side of the door. Your back pressed against it, In Ho’s hands on either side of your head making sure the door stayed closed. Your lips just inches apart as you stood in each others space.

“Sorry I was so close” he said as you heard the door lock. You looked him up and down, really admiring his face. When the PA system called 2, he grabbed your waist and ran with you in his arms. Throwing you in the room before coming in himself to make sure the door was going to be closed and stay that way, no need for random players.

“It’s no problem” you take a deep breath. You locked eyes for a brief moment before looking away from him.

“Hey (y/n), what’s with the scar on your eye?” He asked, as he watched you turn your head of out embarrassment.

“Oh that?” You touched your scar mindfully. “It’s nothing”

“No no, it’s something” he grabbed your jaw roughly to get a better look. You peered up at him with big doe eyes. “What is it?” You could feel his breath ghost your cheek as he spoke.

“It’s just something I got when I was younger.” You tell him. His hand still grasping your jaw, eyes unbelieving. You folded under the pressure, “my father smashed a beer bottle on my head head when he got drunk and that was the only cut deep enough that I have to get stitches on”

“Oh” he said pensively.

“It’s not something I like to talk about… I’ve had it since I was little. It’s ruined my face” you give a half laugh.

“No, it’s ruined nothing. (Y/n), that scar on your eye doesn’t make you ruined. You are beautiful regardless, no marking anywhere on your body could ever make you ugly.” Young il said. “Never forget that”

“Yeah… I guess” you shrug. “My father told me it made me ugly. Ruined me” you repeated.

“Is he still alive?” Young il asked. “Your father.” You nodded. He made a face of determination. You exited the room at the sound of the unlock. Your conversation hidden within the walls of room 24. Hidden but never forgotten.

Time skip: night

You laid in bed, eyes open and glassy. Unable to sleep. You snaked your hand into your pants, hoping an orgasm would put you to bed. As you circled your clit you saw a dark figure approaching you. You ripped your hand from your pants as Young ils face came into view.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He blushed faintly. “I couldn’t sleep and was wondering if you were up so we could talk”

“I’m up, heh, not sleeping anytime soon” you admit scooting over.

“Obviously” he rolled his eyes, looking you up and down, before sitting, “Would you like help? I might be able to provide a more… interactive and better sleep inducing experience” he said enticingly.

As you sat on the bed, Young Il's fingers began to dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His touch was gentle at first, but it quickly became more insistent, more demanding. You felt a surge of excitement as he slipped his fingers beneath underneath your sweatpants, his fingertips tracing the curve of your waist.

You leaned back, letting out a soft moan as his fingers delved deeper, exploring the contours of my body. Young Il's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with intensity as he worked his magic. His fingers moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, building the tension inside you with each passing moment.

“Oh Young il” you moaned quietly.

“Yeah? Does that feel good?”

You began to ride his fingers, your hips moving in time with his touch, you felt the pressure build to a peak. Your breath came in short gasps, your heart racing with anticipation. Young Il's eyes never left yours, his face set in a fierce expression of concentration. Trying his hardest to please you.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the pair of you, lost in this sea of lust. You were consumed by the feeling of his fingers inside you, stroking and teasing and pushing you closer to the edge. Your muscles tensed, your body arching upward as you reached for that elusive peak.

And then it happened – a wave of pure pleasure crashed over you, sending you tumbling into orgasm. Your body shook and trembled, your silent cries echoing through the air as Young Il's fingers continued to move within you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure. He withdrew his fingers from you, licking them clean. A light hum echoing through the space around you as he savored your taste.

As you slowly came back down to earth, you met Young Il's gaze once more. His eyes were still burning with intensity, but now they were tempered with a sense of satisfaction and pride. He laid beside you, looking down on you. A smile stuck on his face.

“You feel better?” He asked, pulling you into him. You cuddled your body into his comfortably.

“I feel fan-fucking-tastic” you respond happily. Tracing light circles on his stomach. He chuckled, sending a flutter through your stomach.

“I’m glad i could satisfy you, maybe you’ll finally be able to sleep” he responds. Watching as your eyes drooped lowly. He placed a gentle kiss on your head before wrapping another protective arm around you.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @player279achlys @galaxygurlll @whamzou @watasinekoru @angelofthorr @whamzou @macnbree @squidgame-lover001

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Series

day three: the morning after

ᰔ pairing: oberyn martell x reader

ᰔ summary: everyone talks about their night in oberyn's bed, but they seem to leave out what happens the morning after.

ᰔ author's note: i could write about oberyn martell every day for the rest of my life and feel fulfilled. he's one of my favorite pedro boys and i'll never get over the end of his story. ouch ouch ouch. also i don't write a lot of smut so please let me know how i can improve! i'd like to get better at it :)

ᰔ content warning: 18+ / MDNI!!! it's oberyn, all bets are off. actually he's really sweet in this one, in his own way. afab!reader. fingering. very loose GoT lore here and there.

Many had warned you of the Prince's bed and what a night with him entailed. It was no secret that Oberyn was not shy, not one to hold back when in the throws of passion. If you had heard one thing about his bedchambers, you had heard a thousand.

You stirred at the sound of the sea as it wafted through the quiet room. As you came to your senses, you felt two strong arms wrapped around you. One hand was settled beneath your breasts, the pad of his thumb pressed into the soft flesh between your sternum. The other cradled your thigh, his arm across your hips.

A soft squeak slipped from you as you stretched in Oberyn's hold. Even after your rest, your body still ached with pleasure. The few you had taken to bed before had never left you feeling how you did now. When you slunk out of their rooms, a tight knot sat in the pit of your stomach— dissatisfaction and a sense of disgust washed over you.

Here, you felt loose and limber, pliable pressed against the chest of your lover. As you shifted again, you felt Oberyn's hand squeeze you. His hold was gentle but firm as the pads of his fingers left marks in your flesh. You felt his lips press against the back of your neck and trailed along your shoulder.

"Good morning, my darling," Oberyn muttered against your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, hazy memories of the night before slowly coming back to you. While it was a night you'd never forget, Dornish wine left some details muddled.

"Good morning," you murmured. You turned your head to catch his sleepy gaze. Part of you wondered if Oberyn ever looked bad— who managed to look handsome moments after waking up?

As his lips brushed against a mark he left last night, you shivered. Even after how spent he left you last night, you still felt that simmer inside you. A hunger in you that only Oberyn seemed to satiate. You thought you'd had your fill last night, but with his lips all over you...

"Oberyn," you breathed out. You lost track of what had been on your lips, some throw away comment about how nice his bed was. Instead, all you thought of was his hand on your hips and how it dipped between your thighs.

It was no secret that Oberyn was good with his hands, the way he wielded every weapon in his armory. His fingers? You believed they were crafted by the Gods above, a divine gift the Dornish prince knew how to use well. How you had been so lucky to receive their treatment, you still had yet to wrap your head around it. Not that you had time to figure out, the way they teased against your lips.

"Use your words. You had no issues doing so last night." Oberyn's low voice in your ear, his middle finger drew slow, agonizing circles against your clit. That simmer in your stomach bubbled as his other hand shifted from beneath your breast. He twisted your nipple, a smirk on his lips as you gasped under your breath. Every little sound that slipped out of you only brought him more pleasure.

"Oberyn—" You arched your back into his chest as desperation grew within you. You had your share of experience with the Dornish shores, sailed on them between fortnights, yet they were nothing compared to the divine pleasure that washed over you with every lazy circle of Oberyn's finger.

"More, my darling. Don't let yourself grow distracted." Even the way he spoke had that growing heat stretch up your spine. It battled the beating sun that began to spill into the room, the humidity thick in the air.

"Ah– Harder, please," you pleaded. Oberyn pressed a second finger down, his fingers followed your command as they moved faster. He was willing to give you whatever you wanted if it meant he heard those pathetic little sounds you couldn't hold back. The murmurs and the soft moans that he had enjoyed the night before, had hoped to hear again.

"So obedient," Oberyn praised. His other hand moved from one breast to the other, giving your pert nipple the attention it deserved.

"Need you inside me. Want to feel you," you managed to get out. It was hard to string together words, piece together cohesive thoughts as he touched you. Whatever had been left in your mind was moot as his hand abandoned your breast to fill your cunt.

As one finger filled your cunt, your own hands grabbed for his arms. Not to stop him, but to brace yourself– his back had seen what your own hands were capable of last night. His finger curled and found the point of pleasure few- if any other lover had found. How he made such quick work, you weren't sure, and you were in no position to question it as he slipped a second finger in.

"Gods!" You cried out as both hands worked in tandem. Oberyn's name slipped from your lips between begs and please for more, more. Of those who had seen the inside of his personal bedchamber, you were his favorite. The way your voice drifted through the room, how soft you were in his hands. He wondered if you had been crafted by the Gods for his own sake.

"That's it, my darling," he murmured in your ear. "Let yourself go." It was all you needed to let yourself fall over the edge, your own fingers dug into the flesh of his arms as you released all over his hands. Oberyn's hands worked you through the pleasure until you were slump against his chest again.

You felt the ache of emptiness as his hands moved away, away from your body. Your eyes were trained on Oberyn as he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes met yours as he licked them clean. Even as you recovered from your orgasm, you felt that simmer return as it settled in the pit of your stomach.

"Sweet," Oberyn muttered to himself as his fingers slipped out of his mouth. You shifted in his hold to face him, your arms around his neck as you kissed him. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue.

Of all the things you had heard about Oberyn's bedchambers, none had prepared you for this. Had you been the only one to receive such treatment, to be pleasured by the Dornish prince with care as the sun rose? Were others blessed by the Gods by way of a man such as him?

Whether they were or not, it didn't matter to you. Not when you were the one who kept his bed warm in the moment, the one with your name on Oberyn's lips and his cock inside you.

[cas-kingdom]

For the sentence prompts! Hope you are doing well Cas💜!

Begging for forgiveness was the only option at this point

A/N: Used the sentence at the end instead!

When Mark burst into the chief’s office, you had your top half hanging off the sofa, a lollipop in your mouth. You stared at him upside-down for about five seconds while you waited for him to speak.

“Mark Sloan is having a baby,” he finally announced, a very slight edge to his voice.

You blinked, then heaved yourself up and turned towards him.

“Y/N says congrats,” you said, your words garbled around the sweet in your mouth.

Mark reacted immediately. He shut the door and pointed an accusatory finger straight at you. “Don’t play coy with me. I know it was you.”

"Me?"

"You started the godawful rumour suddenly floating around the hospital!"

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” With expert skill and practice, you sat back and crossed your arms over your chest. When Mark’s glare intensified, because you absolutely had an idea of what he was talking about, a corner of your lips quirked upwards and you pulled the lollipop from your mouth. “Maybe you should go back to your baby mama.”

Mark chuckled dangerously and rubbed his hands together. “Y/N, sweetheart. Peanut. Little worm. You’re dead.”

He made a move, lurching towards you, and youstood on the couch, brandishing the lollipop like a weapon. “Hey. Hey! Now you know what it feels like!”

“What what feels like?”

“It’s your own fault for making it so believable!”

“What what feels like, Y/N?”

“To have your life ruined!”

Mark scoffed. “This is because I put dye in your shampoo? Temporary dye, Y/N, it was temporary dye!”

“My hair was green for a week!”

“Everyone said it suited you!”

“Because you told everyone it was my choice!” You narrowed your eyes at him as he put his hands on his hips. “I’m not sorry. I’m never gonna be sorry. You’re a dad now, congratulations. Hope you’re a better father than you are a fake uncle.”

The surgeon’s jaw dropped. “Okay, now, that one hurt.”

“Not as much as your penis hurt when your baby mama broke it for getting her pregnant.”

Mark's eyes widened. He’d thought the pregnancy rumour was enough—God knew he’d had his fill of those—but there was more? Really, he should have expected it. This was Y/N Shepherd he was talking about. The only person who could one up him.

Suddenly forgetting his quest for revenge, Mark thrust his face in his palms and slumped down on a chair by the desk. “Anything else I need to know about?” he mumbled, wincing in anticipation of the answer.

Before you could smugly offer one, the door opened once again to reveal Richard. His eyes quickly roved the room before landing on Mark. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why am I being told you’re taking extended paternity leave when the twins have barely been conceived?" There was a brief silence before: "Congratulations, by the way.”

You snorted.

Mark groaned.

Richard rose a brow. “Or…commiserations?”

Mark turned wide, befuddled eyes on him. "Webber, you think it’s true?”

Richard, perplexed, glanced between you and Mark. “It’s not?”

“No!”

Richard shrugged. “Congratulations, then.” He left the room only to pop his head back in a second later. “So, your…”

“Is all in working order!”

“Right. Bye.”

Mark turned to look at you, a gleam in his eye that you recognised all too well. You bit your bottom lip, still standing on the couch. “I told you it’s your own fault for making it so believable.”

He stared. Hard. Then, in about a second, he vaulted himself towards you. You clumsily leapt over the back of the couch with a squeal, falling to the floor with a thud but not caring in the slightest as you scrambled to make your escape.

“You wanna tell me who I’m having these twins with?” Mark asked, making a wild grab for you and snagging the hood of your sweater.

“A cafeteria lady! You thought her buns were top notch!”

Begging for forgiveness was the only option at this point.

Grey’s Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[little-diable]

Lust - Finan + Reader + Sihtric (smut)

Requested by @darkandjollyfolly for my birthday bash celebration. The lyrics are from Hozier's song "Arsonist's Lullabye". Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Pwp, Finan and Sihtric show the reader that their shared longings aren't sinful

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), talks of sinning

Pairing: Finan x fem!reader x Sihtric (900 words)

“Look at me,” Finan’s raspy voice forced her eyes open. She was trembling, kneeling on the cold ground with her hands interlaced. He towered over her with Sihtric standing close, like a shadow following Finan wherever he went. For a second, (y/n) allowed her eyes to flicker between the two men who had touched her just days ago - memories that made her tremble with shame. “What is it with you? You’ve kept your distance.” 

“I,” (y/n) choked on her breath, eyes fluttering close to sort through her thoughts. “What we did was wrong. I keep on asking for forgiveness, but I fear God won’t grant me any more of it. I have sinned, we have sinned.” 

“All you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach. You may fear the punishment, but we shared love, that is no sin, dove. The passion burning inside of you is nothing you need to hide. Don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash.” Sihtric kneeled before her, hands cupping her warm cheeks. (Y/n) heavily swallowed as she allowed the words to spread through her mind while she slowly gave in to Sihtric’s touch. 

“Do you think that is true, Finan?” She looked at the man who had always intrigued her, pulling her further in while she fought against the lust she couldn’t let go of. Finan was just as guided by his faith as (y/n) was, allowing her to put her trust in the strong warrior. 

“I do. What we have can’t be sinful, not when it's guided by longings and love.” He reached a hand out for her to take, pulling her away from Sihtric and into his chest. Finan let his eyes dance over her features for a second before he pressed a searing kiss to her lips. Seconds later, Sihtric pressed himself against her back, keeping her caged between her lovers as Finan kissed her breathless and Sihtric began to leave marks on her neck. 

“Prove it to me, show me this love you speak of.” The warriors didn’t need to be told twice, pulling away from her to guide her back to the hut they were staying in for the time being. No further words were spoken between them, not while they shuffled her out of her dress, exposing her naked body to hungry eyes. 

The sounds of both men pulling out of their clothes filled the hut, making (y/n)’s eyes flicker between Sihtric and Finan, taking in their muscular frames. Both her hands reached for the men, guiding them towards her before sinking down on the bed. While Finan’s beard scratched the skin of her throat, kissing his way down to her chest, Sihtric left kisses on her inner thighs, marking his way up to her dripping heat.

Too many sensations flushed through her, like a battle she was stuck in but couldn’t escape from. But unlike the battles she had fought in before, (y/n) didn’t feel any need to escape now, happily letting both men touch her as if she had always been theirs to share. 

Her moans clawed out of her, urging the two men to touch her where she needed them the most. Sihtric’s mouth felt warm against her core, tongue circling her pulsing bundle while pushing two fingers into her tightness. Finan looked up at her with a wicked smirk, watching the pleasure widen on her features. (Y/n)’s trembling fingers tugged on Finan’s dark roots, tightening her grasp the second he sucked on her hardening nipples.

“Heaven, this feels so good.” Both men were set on her pleasure, wanting to watch her fall apart before they’d both fuck her to get their fill. She trembled beneath them, head thrown back, hands tugging on whatever she could reach. 

Sihtric picked up the speed of his fingers, fucking her with them while he sucked on her clit, all while Finan kept switching between her breasts. She could die a happy death at that very moment, letting go of one last breath while pleasure thumped through her veins like poison. But these two gave her too much to look forward to, not daring to let go just yet while anticipation kept guiding her. 

Her walls began to flutter around Sihtric’s calloused fingers, glassy eyes taking in both men. The smirks they wore on their lips made them look all too similar, even though both were different as can be. (Y/n)’s heart skipped a few beats while taking in the clear lust both men were guided by, leaving her to wonder what they’d do to her in the upcoming hours. 

But all thoughts were stolen right from her as her orgasm clashed through her. She let go of moans while their names rolled off her tongue. Sihtric kept lapping at her folds, set on dragging out this moment while Finan moved up her body to kiss her. Their tongues fought for victory while the strong sensation kept having its grasp on her. 

“You were right,” she choked out. “This can’t be sinful, not when it feels this right.”

[legendary-69420]

The Party of the Year 2: A Celebration Written in the Stars

Chapter 12 : Part 2

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over Italy’s picturesque skyline. Back at the Spencer mansion, a whirlwind of activity took place. Mark’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating with an endless flood of messages from celebrities, actors, models, and his closest friends wishing him a happy birthday. The group chat buzzed with energy.

Lando: "Today’s all about you, King! Enjoy it!"

Mark: "Let’s be honest, what day isn’t about me? 😎"

That message earned a flood of laughing emojis.

The Arrival

Evening rolled around, and Charles, along with Lando, Carlos, Oscar, Yuki, Max, Pierre and others boarded a private jet to Italy. It had been two whole days since Charles had last seen Mark — two days too long, despite the usual video calls. A sense of anticipation coursed through him as they all shared stories, teased each other, and hyped up for what was shaping up to be the event of the season.

When they arrived at the grand estate, they were floored. The Spencer mansion was glowing with grandeur. Crystal chandeliers hung above an expansive marble courtyard that now served as the main dancefloor. Crowds of A-list celebrities, international models, and renowned artists mingled like they were old friends. Charles felt as though he'd stepped into an alternate universe where stars walked among mortals.

“Only Mark could make celebrities feel like regular people,” Charles thought as he watched the scene unfold. Helicopters buzzed in every now and then, dropping off guests, each arrival more extravagant than the last.

But where was Mark?

Then, like time itself had frozen, Charles’ eyes found him. His heart skipped a beat, his breath hitching in his chest as Mark stood near the open bar, mid-conversation with a famous actor. Under the glow of soft, warm lights, Mark’s skin shimmered. His sharp jawline was on full display, his sleek black suit hugging his frame perfectly. A few undone buttons revealed the strong curve of his chest. His tousled hair had just the right amount of effortlessness, as if it naturally fell into place like that.

Mark’s eyes locked with Charles’ from across the crowd, and for a moment, it felt as if the world around them dissolved into a quiet hum. The noise of the party dulled, colors softened, and in that stillness, something electric passed between them—silent but undeniable. Charles’ breath caught, his pulse quickening, and he swore he could feel the warmth of Mark’s gaze settle on him like the first rays of dawn. A knowing grin tugged at his lips, and with a quick apology to the actor, he made his way over to them.

Max, Mark's rival, unsurprisingly, was the first to pull Mark into a quick, firm hug, clapping him on the back like they weren’t rivals on track. Carlos joined. Lando was next, then Oscar, Yuki, Pierre, and the rest of the crew. Each of them exchanged their own playful comments, congratulating him.

“Look at you, all famous and flawless,” Lando joked, squinting at Mark. “What brand of makeup is that, bro? Drop the skincare routine.”

“Yeah, spill the secret,” Yuki chimed in, nudging him with a grin.

Before Mark could respond, his manager appeared from behind, startling him.

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP DOING THAT?!” Mark jumped, hand on his chest, heart racing. His eyes widened with a mix of shock and annoyance, his breath hitching as if his soul had briefly left his body. “One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he muttered, still catching his breath.

The manager shook his head, clearly annoyed. "You’re one to talk. You ran off from your makeup chair from boredom before the artist even touched your face!"

Silence.

"Wait… what?" Max’s eyes squinted in disbelief.

"Are you telling me he looks like this with zero makeup?" Lando’s voice rose an octave as he pointed at Mark like he’d just seen a ghost. "WHAT THE ACTUAL—"

Even Charles’s eyes flickered with something unfamiliar. Awe? Shock? Jealousy? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Mark looked like perfection itself.

Silence. Everyone’s gaze shifted to Mark.

“What?” Mark blinked innocently. “I… may have left early.”

Everyone’s laughter echoed through the courtyard.

The Party Began

The lights dimmed, the music rose, and suddenly, the party came to life. Celebrities performed on stage, each performance more electrifying than the last. A DJ spun tracks that kept the crowd on their feet, and soon, everyone was lost in the music, laughter, and movement.

Mark was at the center of it all. He was everywhere. Taking selfies with Lando and Yuki. Signing autographs. Dancing alongside artists like Dua Lipa. He’d click photos with Alexandra, and at one point, they faked a peck on the cheek for the camera, causing an uproar of cheers and flashes. Charles’ brows furrowed at the sight, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar, but it melted away when he realized it was all playful affection as if it was their way of showing affection. And Just Mark being Mark.

But Charles’ gaze sharpened when he noticed a change in Mark’s demeanor. It was subtle, something no one but him would have caught. His smile faltered—just for a heartbeat. His eyes darted, catching sight of someone.

Paul Mescal.

Mark’s carefree posture shifted. Charles knew Mark better than anyone. He saw it. That’s different, he thought, standing, ready to walk over.

But before he could reach him, someone’s voice made him freeze. "Hey Honey"

"MOM?!?!!? What are you doing here?!"

Pascale, Charles’ mother, laughed, eyes crinkling. “Mark invited me, darling"

"And I was the first to get an invitation—before Arthur, even.” She winked.

“Lorenzo’s here too, by the way.” Charles looked around to see his older brother talking to a small group of people.

Charles blinked in shock, his gaze bouncing between his mom and the party. Of course, Mark had invited her. Why wouldn’t he?

His confusion gave way to a fond smile as he watched his mother wave to Isabella Spencer like they were old friends.

His heart twisted. His mom talking to his crush's mom. Too much.

When it was time for the cake, the energy in the room crescendoed. The lights dimmed, and the first notes of "Happy Birthday" rang out. Fireworks lit up the night sky, adding magic to the moment. The combined melody of voices—friends, celebrities, and family—harmonized in a way that felt surreal.

Mark, being Mark, couldn’t help himself. "Happy birthday to me~!" he sang out, over the chorus, earning a few laughs from the crowd.

When it was time for a toast, everyone raised their glasses and cheered for him. Charles’ eyes lingered on Mark’s smile for just a second too long to which Mark replied the same.

The Night Unfolds

The party’s energy exploded. Performances by celebrities filled the venue. Drinks flowed freely. Mark was at the center of it all, moving from group to group, effortlessly commanding attention. Everyone wanted a moment with him, and he obliged with that natural charm only he possessed.

At one point, he posed with Alexandra again, their faces close as they faked a kiss for the camera. Charles’ chest tightened for a split second before he caught himself. It’s just for the photo, he reminded himself. And when Alexandra playfully smooched Mark’s cheek, Charles’ eyes narrowed before he shook his head, laughing it off.

Lando teased him about his "Instagram boyfriend" pictures with Alexandra, one shot looking like they were about to kiss. Charles’s stomach churned with something sharp and unfamiliar, but he brushed it off as a trick of the lights.

After-Party Intimacy

As the party winded down, only close friends remained. Mark’s parents had left, but not before Alessandro gave Charles a knowing look. Everyone lounged around, half-drunk, half-asleep, except for Mark.

Most of the guests had left. Only the core group remained, sprawled across the lounge in various states of exhaustion and intoxication. Mark’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes dreamy. He’d found a guitar—of course.

"WHERE DOES HE KEEP FINDING THESE THINGS?!" Charles shouted.

Mark strummed softly, his voice floating like silk over the notes. It was raw, unfiltered, and filled with something deep and real. Everyone sang with him.

For Charles, it was a realization. No one here was pretending. Everyone cared about Mark. Genuinely. And that realization hit him harder than expected.

Charles watched him with a soft smile. His shirt half-unbuttoned, his hair tousled, his face glowing. Mark grabbed a guitar, and Charles’ heart clenched. Here we go.

Mark’s fingers moved with natural ease. His voice was honey-dipped velvet, raspy from drink but still so clear it could break hearts. The melody was slow, sad, and raw. Everyone’s eyes were on him. The world seemed to shrink to this one moment. His gaze never broke from Charles’.

A Moment Just For Two

By the pool, Mark stood, his grin easy but his eyes tired. Charles followed without knowing why. When Mark turned to face him, Charles' chest ached.

Without thinking, Mark cupped Charles' face, heart racing like it was on track at full speed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Mark leaned in.

Their lips met softly, like the start of a symphony—gentle, slow, but growing in intensity. Charles’ fingers slid up Mark’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. Their breaths mixed in the space between them, and for a second, they stayed like that, motionless but entirely present.

Charles pulled back, his eyes lingering on Mark’s lips. “Happy Birthday, Mark,” he whispered, voice soft but firm.

Mark blinked, his grin lazy, dazed. “Thank you.”

For once, things weren’t awkward. Maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was just them.

The weight of the moment lingered between them like the remnants of a melody neither of them wanted to end. But eventually, their exhaustion caught up with them. They sat back down on the couch, still lost in a shared daze. Mark yawned first, tilting his head back onto the cushion, and Charles followed suit. Before either of them realized it, they had drifted off.

The Next Morning

Sunlight filtered in through the large glass windows, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. The faint hum of birds chirping outside was the only sound, until the hushed giggles of their friends broke through the quiet.

Lando crouched near the couch, phone in hand, the screen tilted just right to capture the scene before him. His grin was devious as he rapidly snapped several photos. Carlos stood behind him, arms crossed, a sly smirk on his face. “Unbelievable,” Carlos whispered, shaking his head.

“Tell me you’re seeing this,” Pierre snickered, leaning in for a closer look.

“Seeing it and saving it,” Lando muttered, his phone still clicking away. “This is prime blackmail material.”

Charles and Mark were sprawled across the sofa, limbs tangled in the most ungraceful, uncoordinated manner possible. Mark’s arm was slung lazily across Charles’ chest, his face pressed against Charles’s shoulder, while Charles’ head rested at top of Mark’s, his mouth slightly open in sleep. It was the very picture of pure, undisturbed peace — and undeniable closeness.

“Should we wake them?” Yuki asked, already snickering as he reached for a pillow.

“Absolutely,” Max answered, grabbing the nearest water bottle and giving it a playful shake.

“Don’t you dare,” Carlos warned, swatting the bottle away. “We’ll never hear the end of it.”

Lando grinned wider, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Fine, but I’m definitely sending these to the group chat.”

The soft vibration of Charles’s phone woke him up first. His eyelids fluttered open, his face scrunching in confusion as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The sight of Mark's face so close to his own made him jolt slightly, but it wasn’t until he noticed the grins of their friends that full awareness hit him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Charles groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You guys are actual children.”

“Children with evidence,” Lando shot back, holding up his phone like it was a trophy.

Mark blinked awake next, his brows furrowing as he took in the scene. His eyes flitted from Lando’s phone to Carlos’s smirk to Yuki’s barely contained laughter. Then he glanced up at Charles, their disheveled state finally dawning on him.

“Oh,” Mark muttered, grinning slyly as he leaned his head back against the cushion. “So, who’s printing the posters of this moment? I want the high-resolution version.”

Everyone burst into laughter, Yuki nearly falling over. “You’re unbelievable,” Pierre snorted, wiping at his eyes.

Charles shoved Mark lightly, trying to play it cool despite the lingering warmth in his chest. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he grumbled, cheeks flushing red. “At least we didn’t fall asleep with our mouths open like Pierre at Monza.”

“Hey!” Pierre protested, pointing at him with mock offense. “That was one time!”

“Sure, man,” Mark replied, nudging Charles as they shared a glance filled with unspoken amusement.

It wasn’t the first time their friends teased them, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But for once, Charles didn’t mind. His heart was still light from the night before, and if anyone noticed the way he leaned just a little closer to Mark as they sat there, no one said a word.

(Dividers by @omi-resources)

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Devourable (Thomas Hutter x fem!vampire!reader)

-> Thomas offers himself to you, but he’s not the only one blinded by desire

Warnings: some manhandling (by reader), hair pulling, smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, tease and denial, sub!Thomas (with a hint of cheeky though), dom!reader (but kind of soft for him) (even when she’s mean), shadow sex? sex with shadows? whatever you wanna call it, mentions of blood craving/drinking, lying in a coffin

*Written in the same vein (ha) as Moonlight. Consider it a sequel if you like.

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

He comes to you willingly. Eagerly. Even knowing what you are and all that you could take from him with barely a lift of your ancient, beautiful finger… he offers so much more. A predator you may be, but this sweet surrender of his nearly feels as though it is you being ensnared, so intoxicated by his desire that your own grows blinding.

“The gates are open,” you remind him, standing next to your coffin as he stops a mere few paces away from you. “The wolves have left.”

His throat bobs as he swallows—his fear, or pride, or both. “I know.”

In a moment of… weakness, you suppose, you had decided to spare him. You called the shadow of dread you had cast upon him back into yourself, cleared his path, offered him freedom. In truth, there was still a chance you might send the wolves who so dutifully served you to track him down and drag him straight back to your castle. Part of you so longed to keep him in your greedy clutches. Another fought against it. Now, you would never know which would have won, but of one thing, you are certain: this is not your doing. His choice to stay, despite the chance he was given to flee this horrid place and never look back, is exactly that—his own.

“You seek me out of your own free will, then?”

You know the answer, but you need to hear it out loud. You want to drink the words from his lips like you would his blood, savour the taste of them. And though his eyes are loud enough, he can’t seem to say it outright at first.

“I wanted to leave,” he confesses, voice wavering with raw emotion. “The moment I knew escape was possible, I ran faster than I can remember my feet ever carrying me. Yet with each step I took farther from these walls, it wasn’t relief that I felt. It wasn’t the forest or the snow I saw before my eyes. It was your face. Lit by the fire, bathed in moonlight. Each word we exchanged as we talked late into the night, each lingering gaze. The hunger in your eyes which so terrified me, even as I… as I longed to be the one to sate it,” his eyes fall shut as he speaks the words, struggling to let them out. “And though I knew, in my heart, that you were not of this world, though I saw your marks upon my skin and understood that you held my very life in your grasp, I couldn’t help but wish for more. To know you better, to see and understand every single part of you. Even if it brought my utter ruin. I knew that, if I left you behind, never to see you again… my every waking thought for as long as I live would be of you. Not a day would pass that I would not feel the urge to make the journey back and look upon your face, if only one last time. So, yes,” he admits, nearly breathless, “I come to you of my own will, seeking relief… from the torment of wanting you.”

It’s torment, indeed, which laces his every word and breath. A decent man such as him, wanting nothing more than to make himself respectable in society, to secure the good living a potential future bride would deserve, stripped of everything he had ever known about truth and fable, about his own fears and cravings. Baring his soul to the one who had made it unravel. You should find it pathetic, mock his foolishness.

You don’t quite find it in yourself to do so.

“I am not a person for you to want,” you remind him, a dangerous edge to your voice as you approach him slowly. “I am craving itself. Insatiable. Pitiless. I would devour you.”

“If that were true, you would have done so already,” he claims still. “Pitiless, you say, yet—here I stand. Had you not spared my life, I could not have returned to lay it at your feet.”

Oh, what a sweet romantic. When you stop, he takes the last few steps towards you, careful yet bold, coming to stand before you within perilous reach.

“How long has it been,” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “since someone chose to stay? When were you last offered something more than blood?”

“Offered?” you scoff. “I am not offered blood. I take it.”

Thomas clenches his jaw, frustrated, and a decision is made. With quick, determined fingers, he undoes his buttons, pulling open the top half of his shirt.

“Take it, then,” he dares you.

It’s bait you shouldn’t take—but you can’t help your eyes falling to his flesh the moment it’s been bared. Your bite marks are still there, puncture wounds begging to be reopened. You fight back an animalistic hiss. If you do as he says… you would be doing as he says. Acting on his terms, even when fulfilling your own cravings. That thought alone might dissolve you more quickly and painfully than the first ray of dawn.

So fixated you are on his heart, you hardly notice Thomas reaching for your face. His fingers graze your cheek, hesitant at first, then more securely cradling it as you lift your gaze to his. His expression is as soft as his touch, hopeful and compassionate. He is taking your hesitance to feed off him as confirmation that he was right. That his willing presence is some kind of balm for what he believes to be a deep longing of yours.

There is only one thing you can do in the face of such a pure sentiment.

You bring your hand to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft curls. Still damp from running away, then straight back to you. He lets you pull him closer, even closer, until your lips are nearly brushing, your breaths mingling. It’s him who means to close the distance once and for all, but you plant your hand onto his chest to keep him at bay the moment his mouth begins to graze yours.

“Do you truly believe,” your voice begins soft, then grows into a growl, “that I am some wounded soul in need of deliverance?”

Your long nails drag against his scalp as you pull at the roots—hard, down, forcing him to his knees. Thomas gives a hoarse cry as they hit the cold ground.

“Do you wish to save me, Thomas?” you spit the word like it’s rotten in your mouth. “To ease my pain? My loneliness? Do you truly believe I can feel such things?”

Your words echo harshly against the stone walls, charged with blinding rage. How dare he look at you with such pity in his eyes? How dare he presume to know your heart, when it has been lost to you for centuries—

Thomas grabs your waist and, before you can even begin to push him away, buries his face in your stomach.

“My soul weeps for you,” he persists hoarsely, shaking his head against the fabric of your dress. “I cannot help it.”

You release his hair, quite frankly stunned by the feeling of him so desperately clinging to you. You are still angry, and you could untangle him from your body with ease, but…

“You are a fool with a death wish,” you say, more softly than you had intended.

“I wish for you,” Thomas counters heatedly. Something wild, downright feral burns in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Let me prove it.” His hands leave your waist only to plant themselves on the back of your thighs—creeping ever so daringly upwards. “Let me taste you. As you have tasted of me. Please.”

You know very well what he means, but still: “You lack the teeth,” you taunt.

“But not the tongue,” Thomas insists, somehow pleading and stubborn at the same time. “May I please you?”

Blood is what pleases you. The hunting. The haunting. The biting.

But right now… you want this.

“You may try.”

The moment your permission has been given, Thomas hastens to lift the skirts of your dress. You don’t move a muscle, standing above him like an unfeeling goddess as he frantically works to move past any layer of fabric standing between him and your bare flesh. But you do feel, and it’s odd, so odd, to let yourself be worshipped rather than feared for the first time in what feels like an immeasurable amount of years. He kisses your knees with reverence, his lips ascending your thighs as though heaven itself might be waiting where they meet. His mouth is so hot on your skin, so sweetly arousing. If you were still human, you’d be trembling with want.

Yet when Thomas lifts his eyes to yours, silently pleading to see so much as a spark of his desire reflected in them, you deny him. Your pride demands that your gaze remain cold and expectant, as though you are unimpressed by his efforts so far.

That only seems to spur him on. He must make do with the little access granted, but your closed legs do not deter him. Determined to elicit a response, he plunges his tongue into the folds of your sex with vigour, seeking—and finding—that bundle of nerves which remains as sensitive in death as it had been in life.

For so long, your lust had been reserved for blood, you had forgotten how it felt to have it pool low in your belly, producing slickness and a delicious ache between your thighs rather than a compulsion to sink your teeth into a fresh vein. You certainly remember now, as Thomas licks and sucks at your clit, stoking the ache into a blazing fire spreading throughout your body.

He eats you out like his life depends on it—which it very well might. Though you don’t feel much like the ruthless predator your kind is supposed to be at the moment. A sound, foreign and breathless, reaches your ears, and you are shocked to realize you had produced it. Thomas groans in turn, satisfied with his feat. You grip his hair, pull at the roots in retaliation, but that only fuels the lust consuming you as much as it does him. When you feel him attempting to work his fingers into the space between his mouth and your cunt, you finally part your legs slightly, to better allow it. The bunched up fabric of your skirts obscures his face, so you pull it back to look him in the eye as he slides his fingers into you, two at once. He holds your gaze, brazen and feverish, and the sight combined with the stretch and curl of his fingers inside you are a strange kind of torment, endlessly frustrating and frustratingly addictive. You should be above such human afflictions, but it seems you are not after all. Your body still seeks pleasure, still weakens with it, now that you have Thomas kneeling at your feet with his tongue between your legs.

Thomas. Your beautiful Thomas. You’d have allowed no other soul such intimate caresses. It’s even worse to know that he alone could stir these emotions within you, from the pity that had led you to free him to the vexingly human lust which strips you of control over your breath under his touch. Relentless, his tongue strokes you to madness, his fingers find impossibly sweet places within you, and when a small whine from his throat reaches your ears, the dam breaks and you are coming, lost to rapture without a drop of blood on your tongue. You gasp, crush his face against your core, and in turn his nails dig into the back of your thigh as if he could pull you any closer than you already are. For once, you are being devoured rather than devourer. It’s freeing. It’s infuriating.

Even when you are done clenching around his fingers and the pleasure begins to subside, he doesn’t stop. His tongue drags almost unbearably against your sensitive clit, over and over, threatening to pull cries from your throat which would be dangerously close to whimpers, and that is when you use your grip on his hair to throw him away, rasping out, “Enough!”

Thomas falls on his back with a short cry. He scrambles to sit up, but remains there, looking up at you as he touches his glistening lips—glistening with the proof of his success in pleasing you, just as he had claimed he would. Certainly, that is why the faintest trace of a smile tugs at his mouth.

“Pleased with yourself, are you?” Your tone is biting, despite your lingering breathlessness. Thomas lowers his hand from his face, but not his gaze from yours.

“Do I not have reason to be?”

Here he is, offering himself to a vampire like a lamb to the slaughter, and yet his pride has not entirely left him.

To your chagrin, you must admit he is not wrong. Your chest still heaves after your climax, you still ache for more. For too much, in truth. Thomas is straining against his trousers, quite visibly so, and though you would rather have his cock buried between your legs than shredded in your teeth, you are excruciatingly aware of the blood that has rushed to fill it into hardness, pumped there by the heart you can hear pounding in his chest.

You are far from sated.

“That is enough for tonight,” you deadpan. You are too close to losing the last sliver of control you still possess, and that is as corrosive to your pride as it is potentially deadly for him. It’s a miracle, frankly, that you muster the will to walk away.

Thomas doesn’t see that line of reasoning. Looking as though you have struck him across the face, he catches your hand as you pass by him. “Wait. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Still on his knees, he shifts closer to you so he has to crane his neck even further up for his pleading gaze to meet yours. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Your hand is still in his. Once again, you allow more than you ought to and leave it there as he brings it to his lips, pressing a most delicate kiss to your knuckles. “Bite me,” he murmurs. “Take me. Anything. Just… don’t go.”

“Take heed what you ask for, Thomas,” you warn, though your voice lacks the bite he ought to be warned against. Your chest is tight with longing, warm with… affection. When you pull your hand from his grasp, it’s only so you can cup his chin, let your fingers tenderly graze his pale, damp skin. “If I were to lay myself upon you now,” you all but whisper, leaning down so your breath ghosts his mouth, “when I’m done with you, it will be your corpse I dismount.”

His lips part, letting past a trembling breath. Before he can protest as his face shows he means to, you stand back to your full height. “Sunrise is but an hour away,” you say sternly. “Not nearly enough for me to feed elsewhere and enjoy you properly. I shall join you in bed tomorrow night.”

Your tone leaves no room for argument, and you don’t wait for an answer. In the last glimpse you catch of him as you leave, Thomas breathes out a curse, eyes lowering to the straining bulge at his crotch as if it were an open wound.

If you remain much longer, it might be.

“Eat well yourself,” you order without looking back. “You’ll need your strength.”

***

Only after Thomas has returned to his bed do you return to your coffin, mildly but far from fully satisfied. The animals you had drained in this last hour before dawn were poor substitutes for the blood that beckons you from your lover’s veins.

Lover.

The meaning of the word had been all but lost to you before him. And though ‘love’ is a part of it, you doubt you are capable of such a feeling. What you feel for Thomas is nothing but a new, strange kind of appetite. You want his heart in your teeth, but not for so long it stops beating. You want to make him last. Perhaps… forever. If he were to offer himself willingly. For the first time, you feel you would not mind sharing some of your power with what you know to be called a ‘familiar’.

But any such thoughts must wait. The sky was already infused with a rosy hue when you retreated to the comforting darkness of your resting place, and soon enough your consciousness will awaken to yet another night, the hours of daylight passed as if in a blink of your immortal eye.

Thomas, on the other hand, has a long day ahead of him. The sleep he seeks, unlike you, will not claim him. You can feel as much even without reaching out to his mind with your power.

Which you are unable to refrain from doing, if only for the last few moments of the night. Eyes closed, you let your darkness stretch out, slithering along the stone walls of the castle, corridor after corridor and room after room, as though you are yourself making your way to the chamber where Thomas lies in bed. Soon enough, the darkness before your eyes is replaced with the image of him, skin glistening with perspiration, brow pinched in discomfort. A sight you have admired for many nights before. Only, it’s not a sense of inexplicable dread which plagues him now, but rather the torment of unfulfilled desire.

He tries to fight it, truly. Forcing his eyes to remain shut, his body to lie still. But the desire remains, a constant, maddening companion. Ever so often, his hips give a gentle roll, as if the softest friction against his trousers would bring him any modicum of relief. You may not have explicitly forbidden it, but he knew better than to relieve himself after you left him.

At the very least, he has managed to resist the temptation until now. With a sigh which spells defeat, he opens his eyes, taking in the softly lit sky. He can’t see that the sun itself has yet to emerge over the horizon, thinks himself already out of your reach for the following day. He only hesitates for a few moments before he reaches down, and the guilt in his gaze dissipates into a moan as he finally grants himself the pressure for which his cock has been aching. He palms it firmly, hips bucking into his own hand, before reaching inside his trousers and grasping his length fully. Perhaps you will not mind, you feel him think. He will confess it to you, yes. Beg for forgiveness if he must. Part of him hopes he’ll have to, his cock throbbing even more intensely at the thought, his rhythm quickening—

His wrist is snatched away by an unseen hand—by a shadow—and pinned to the pillow beside his head, right along with his other hand as well. He gasps in fright, then the loss of the blissful friction pulls a whine from his throat. Your voice is a disembodied hiss, crawling through his mind like a serpent.

“You asked to be taken. So this,” his chest heaves as your shadowy grip engulfs his swollen length, the feeling nothing short of devastatingly real, “is no longer yours to do with as you please. I alone shall grant your pleasure, and only when I see fit. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” he breathes out. “Yes.”

The latter is a wanton moan rather than a promise. He is all but thrusting into the air now, into your unseen touch, his head thrown back, his neck beautifully exposed. You wonder if he has the faintest idea how utterly devourable he makes himself for you.

“If you touch yourself,” your voice purrs in his ear, “I will know.”

Perhaps he won’t need to, at least for a while. If you keep stroking him this way, even from afar, even just for a few moments more, he may yet find the relief he so direly needs. He is close, you can tell, and you almost—almost—want to feel him reach it.

“Oh, my dear Thomas,” you caress his name with your tongue. “I fear I shall never have enough of you.”

Even without him gasping out the words as he writhes against the sheets, you know he feels the same. It’s not enough. You are selfish by nature, ravenous, vindictive. You want his desire to eat away at his veins as cruelly as yours has stripped you of your power over yourself, denting your ancient pride.

When he is on the precipice, ready to reach his peak, it’s gone. Your voice, your touch—melted away the moment that the sun is no longer obscured by the earth. Thomas has never resented its warmth as he does now. His heart may as well have dropped into his cock, the way it throbs with each pump of his blood, desperately unsatisfied, and what’s worse is he knows you intended it this way. That you revel in his torment.

But even worse still is—he, too, revels in it.

[heliosunny]

Part 4 of yandere Mydei plsss there's so little Yandere Mydei 🥲

Yandere!Mydei x Knight!Reader

[part 1]; [part 2]; [part 3]; [part 4]

You thought last night would be forgotten. A mistake, a haze, nothing more. But Mydei, he won’t let it go. And when he confronts you about it, he says three words you never expected.

"I’ll take responsibility."

You should have expected this. But you still weren’t ready when Mydei cornered you. It was just after the morning assembly, in a quiet corridor of the palace. You had hoped, or prayed—that he would let last night’s incident fade into nothing. But the second you turned the corner, he was already there. Leaning against the stone wall, golden eyes locked on you.

And worse—he was smirking. Like a hunter who had finally caught his prey.

"We need to talk, Y/n."

You tried to walk past him.

"No, we don’t."

But his arm shot out, blocking your path.

"You left a mark on me." His voice was smooth, almost amused. "I thought I should return the favor."

"It was an accident." You kept your tone flat. "I was drugged. Whatever happened wasn’t real."

"You seemed quite real when you begged me to stay."

"I don’t beg."

"You did last night."

Your fingers curled into a fist.

"Let it go, Mydei."

"Oh, but how can I?" He leaned in

"You made quite the spectacle of it. The court is already whispering."

He brushed his fingers over his throat, right where your teeth had sunk into his skin.

"You left a claim on me, dear knight." His golden eyes burned. "Should I not take responsibility for that?"

"Don’t be ridiculous" you snapped.

"Am I?" His voice was silk-wrapped steel. "You bit me in front of my gods, my ancestors, and every noble in this court."

"Did you want them to know I’m yours?"

Heat shot through you.

"You’re twisting this."

"Am I?" He stepped closer, crowding you against the wall.

"I’m saying I’ll take responsibility. I’m saying I’ll claim you back."

His fingers brushed against your chin- teasing.

"Unless… you regret it?"

"It wasn’t real" you hissed.

"Say that again."

You opened your mouth.

But your mind flashed back to last night. His warmth. His steady grip. The way he stiffened when your lips brushed his skin. The way his breathing faltered when you left that mark. Your body betrayed you. You hesitated.

Mydei chuckled softly.

"That’s what I thought."

His fingers slipped beneath your chin—tilting your gaze up.

"I don’t mind waiting, Y/n." His voice dropped to a murmur. "You’ll accept it soon enough."

He finally stepped back, letting you breathe.

"In the meantime" he mused, "I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine."

"Don’t you dare—"

"Oops." His smirk was downright wicked. "Too late. The rumors have already begun."

And before you could react, before you could curse him to the depths of the abyss, he was already walking away.

Leaving you furious, flustered, and utterly doomed.

You thought you could escape him. With Selene’s help, you vanished from Mydei’s sight. For the first time, he couldn’t find you.

And for a while, things settled.

Until the news arrived.

Prince Mydei—gravely injured on the battlefield.

"Where have you been?"

Selene was waiting for you the second you slipped into your shared hideout.

"Don’t start." you muttered, shrugging off your cloak.

"Oh, I will start." She stepped closer, voice dropping. "Do you have any idea what kind of madness he’s causing?"

"I haven’t seen him in weeks."

"Exactly!" Selene threw up her hands. "And he’s been tearing through the palace trying to find you."

You already knew that. You had spent weeks dodging him, avoiding his reach.

With Selene’s help, Mydei couldn’t track you down.

Selene sighed, her expression growing serious.

"You heard it too, didn’t you?"

"Prince Mydei" she murmured. "Gravely injured on the battlefield."

You shouldn’t have cared. You should have let him bleed out where he fell. But even now, you couldn’t stop the way your breath caught.

"He did this to himself" Selene warned. "Don’t let him pull you back."

But it was too late. You had already made your choice.

You arrived at his chambers past midnight.

The guards let you through without a word, they had been expecting you.

And when you finally pushed the door open… Mydei was waiting.

Not unconscious. Not dying.

Just sitting on his bed, golden eyes glinting.

Smirking.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come, assassin."

He wasn’t dying.

He wasn’t even seriously injured.

He looked fine.

Perhaps a little pale, a bandage over his arm, but otherwise..completely unharmed.

"You—" Your voice shook with rage. "You tricked me."

His smirk only widened.

"Did I?"

"The rumors," you whispered. "The entire kingdom thinks you were gravely wounded—"

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"It worked, didn’t it?"

You stormed forward, grabbing his collar, yanking him closer.

"You played with war just to drag me back?"

"Would you have come otherwise?"

Your grip tightened.

"You’re insane."

"And you’re here." His voice dropped—low, triumphant. "That’s all that matters."

"Did you miss me?"

"No."

His lips brushed against your fingers, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss.

"Stay." His voice was a whisper, dangerous, pleading.

You took one step toward the door. And that was as far as you got.

Because before you could reach the handle, a hand clamped around your wrist.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

You turned, slowly just to see his fingers coiled tighter around your wrist.

"You just got here." His voice was too smooth, too calm. "Surely you don’t plan on leaving so soon?"

"Let go."

He didn’t. Instead, he stood, his height towering over you.

"Not yet" he murmured. "You owe me, don’t you?"

"I owe you nothing."

"Oh?" He tilted his head, mocking. "You disappeared for weeks. I could have died."

"You didn’t."

"But I could have." His voice was teasing. "And whose fault would that have been?"

He was toying with you like usual.

You yanked at your wrist. He didn’t budge.

"Mydei."

"Say it again."

Your jaw clenched.

"Let. Me. Go."

His grip loosened—just barely. But then, his other hand lifted to brush a loose strand of hair from your face.

"What if I don’t want to?"

His fingers trailed lower, ghosting over your cheek, your jaw.

"What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago."

And then, he leaned in. You braced yourself. For a threat, a taunt, for him to force you back. But instead, his lips brushed against your temple.

"Stay."

You tried to pull away. But his hands were already on you, one still gripping your wrist, the other curling against your back, firm and unmoving.

"You’re mine, Y/n" he murmured against your skin.

Your heart pounded.

"You’re delusional"

He only chuckled.

"You say that, yet you’re here."

"Because you lied" you spat.

"And yet you still came."

He was too close. The warmth of his breath, the faintest scent of blood and steel clinging to his skin—all of it suffocating.

"Tell me." His fingers tightened against your back. "Would you have run to anyone else’s side the way you ran to mine?"

You opened your mouth, ready to retort but nothing came.

"I thought so."

"Let me go, Mydei."

"No."

"You can’t keep me here."

"Can’t I?" He tilted his head, mocking. "What will you do, assassin? Kill me?"

"You wouldn’t." His smirk only grew. "Because if you could, you would have done it a long time ago."

"I don’t need to kill you to leave."

"Then leave."

His fingers unraveled from your wrist, your back.

Your muscles coiled—preparing to bolt for the door.

But before you could take a single step, Mydei moved.

Faster than you expected, faster than you had ever seen him.

His arms caged around you, forcing you against the wall.

A startled gasp tore from your lips.

"Do you really think," he whispered, voice low, dangerous, "that I would let you go so easily?"

"You can’t do this."

"I can." His breath ghosted against your skin. "And I will."

You twisted in his grasp, nails digging into his wrist, shoving at his shoulders—but it was useless. His arms were like iron bars, pinning you to the wall.

"Are you done?" Mydei’s voice was silken, patient.

You glared.

"Not even close."

And then—you lunged. Your leg swung up, aiming for his side, but he caught it effortlessly, smirking.

"Predictable" he murmured.

"You think you can run from me, love?" His fingers traced down your arm—slow, possessive. "After everything? You're mine after all"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I don’t belong to you, Mydei."

"But you do."

His hand trailed lower, down your wrist, over your fingers. You snatched your hand away.

"I won’t play this game."

"Oh, but you already have." His smirk deepened. "From the moment you let me touch you. From the moment you came running back to me."

"I had no choice."

"You always have a choice." His fingers ghosted over your jaw. "You just keep choosing me."

A sharp knock suddenly broke the tension.

"Your Highness?"

Your blood ran cold.

Before you could even speak, the door opened.

A young servant stepped in, eyes wide with shock as she took in the scene.

Mydei towering over you.

Your wrists pinned in his grip.

The servant’s face blanched.

"I— I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—"

"Out!" Mydei ordered, voice cold, sharp.

The girl hesitated—then turned to you.

"D-Do you need help?"

A chance. This was your chance.

But the second you opened your mouth, Mydei moved. His grip shifted, wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"She’s fine" he said smoothly. "Aren’t you, love?"

His fingers dug in—warning you.

"I… I’m fine" you forced out.

The servant faltered. But Mydei’s gaze was a silent command. So she bowed quickly—then fled, shutting the door behind her.

The second she was gone, you shoved at his chest.

"That was low" you hissed.

"I told you" he murmured, smirking. "You’re not leaving."

His grip tightened.

"Not now. Not ever."

The rumors started the next morning.

Hushed whispers in the halls. Stolen glances in the corridors. Servants whispering about the Prince’s secret lover—his knight, a former assasin, held captive in his chambers.

About the way he pinned you against the wall.

The way his golden eyes gleamed with possession.

The way he held you—like you belonged to him.

"Did you hear? She didn’t even fight back."

"Maybe she likes it, being trapped in his bed."

You heard every word.

And so did Selene.

A soft knock echoed at your window.

Your heart leapt.

Selene.

Without hesitation, you unlatched the window, letting her slip inside.

"Took you long enough" you whispered.

She grinned, mischief gleaming in her very eyes.

"Had to take the long way in" she murmured. "Your dear Prince seems to think locking doors will keep me out."

She wasn’t wrong.

After last night, Mydei had tightened security around his chambers.

Extra guards. Double patrols.

You weren’t just trapped.

You were caged.

"I heard the rumors" Selene said, her smirk faltering. "I’m getting you out" she said, voice firm, final.

"Selene—"

"No arguments. I’m not letting you stay in a gilded cage just because he wants to keep you."

She reached out—gripping your hand.

"Do you trust me?"

"Always."

"Then let’s go."

But before you could move, the door swung open.

And there stood Mydei.

"Going somewhere, love?"

Selene moved first. A dagger flashed, aiming straight for Mydei’s throat. But he was faster. He caught her wrist, twisting it just enough to force her to drop the blade.

"You have a habit of sneaking into places you don’t belong" Mydei murmured.

"And you have a habit of keeping things that aren’t yours," she shot back.

"Oh? But Y/n is still here."

Selene’s grip tightened around your wrist.

"We’re leaving."

"No" Mydei said simply.

His hand reached out, curling around your waist.

"You bastard—"

"Your lovely friend could have left anytime." His golden gaze flickered to you. "But Y/n is still here. Ask yourself why."

Selene turned to you—eyes searching yours.

"Tell me you want to leave" she urged.

Deep down you knew.

If you ran, he would find you.

Your silence was all the answer Selene needed.

Her jaw clenched.

"You’re a fool" she muttered—before slipping out the window and vanishing into the night.

Leaving you alone.

With him.

"You made the right choice" he murmured, lips brushing against your temple.

You exhaled shakily.

But you didn’t move.

Because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, somehow, somewhere along the way, you had stopped running.