#because I have a sparkle brush and suddenly I NEEDED to use it

[yzzyhee]

lucky three — sjy & psh

bf!jake x fem!bodied yn x bf!sunghoon

warnings: established poly relationships, mlm ( 1 kiss sorry 🧌 ), kisses? idk just fluff mostly (98%) , maybe petnames?? not proofread, anything else lmk!

synopsis: on a rainy afternoon, you and your boyfriends realise how lucky the three of you are to have found each other

wc: 1.4k

a/n: idk guys its just my bday… its been raining for the past two days and i badly need this to happen to me + what aj wrote in her guess who fic 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 read it now.

the faint hum of rain hitting the window of the cosy apartment is a perfect backdrop to the lazy afternoon. jake’s arm drapes lazily around your shoulders, while sunghoon’s head rests comfortably on your lap. the three of you fit together as if you have been carved out from the same piece of clay. nothing ever feels incomplete when you are all together.

"tell me again why we decided to stay in today?" jake asks, his voice low but with a playful lilt as he tilts his head toward you. he traces lazy patterns with his fingers along your arm, the touch sending electric warmth through your skin. he is always tactile — always touching, as if afraid you will slip through his fingers.

"because it's raining, and i love the sound of it," you reply softly, your hand brushing through sunghoon’s raven-black hair. he closes his eyes, his lips tugging upward slightly, clearly enjoying the soothing motion of your fingers. sunghoon is quieter — thoughtful; his affection comes in soft waves, almost unnoticeable until you are pulled under and engulfed by the depth of his love.

"you love the rain, but jake hates it," sunghoon finally speaks, his eyes still closed. his voice deep, resonating through the quiet atmosphere of the room.

" i don’t hate it. i just don’t love it like she does," jake teases back, glancing at sunghoon before turning his gaze to you. his eyes, always full of light, sparkle with a mischievous glint.

it has been like this for a while now — your lives intertwined so naturally. your relationship feels like a melody, each of you three contributing with a different note and yet when you’re together, you create the perfect harmony. sunghoon brings calmness and stability, a quiet strength. jake is the warmth, the laughter, the chaos. and you’re the centre, grounding them both in a way they never realise they need.

you shift slightly, pulling your legs under you and leaning back into jake’s chest. you sigh, contentment washing over your face like the rain outside.

"you know," you say softly, "i don’t think I've ever been this happy."

jake's fingers stop their movement as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple. "that’s because you’ve got both of us," he whispers against your skin, his breath warm.

sunghoon opens his eyes at this, a small smirk playing on his lips. "he’s not wrong," he says, shifting so that he can sit up and face you. his eyes meet yours, dark and intense, but filled with so much love it nearly takes your breath away. "you’re our everything."

you feel a lump form in your throat at his words. it’s moments like this — when they are so open, so raw with their emotions — that remind you just how deep your connection goes. the world outside doesn’t understand it;

some people judge, others whisper behind your backs. but none of that matters when it is just the three of you, like now, tangled in each other’s arms, completely content with the love you have found.

"i still remember the first time we told you," jake says suddenly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "i thought for sure you’d reject the idea."

"reject you? never," you respond, shaking your head "you know i could never say no to either of you."

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, playful skepticism in his eyes. "you hesitated, though. for a second."

"i didn’t hesitate," you insist, but there is a teasing tone in your voice. "i was just…surprised, that’s all. it’s not every day you realise two guys you love are willing to share a relationship with each other and with you."

"and you never looked back," jake adds with a grin, his eyes filled with pride. "you belong with us."

sunghoon’s hand finds yours, gently pulling it into his lap, thumb tracing the back of your hand. his touch is always soothing, like an anchor in a storm. "we belong with you, too," he corrects, his voice tender.

your relationship is unconventional — some would even say complicated. but it isn’t for you. for you, sunghoon and jake it’s something as natural as breathing. there are no jealousy-fueled fights, no insecurities you haven’t already talked through. communication has always been your greatest strength. yes, it isn’t always easy, but you make it work because none of you can imagine life any other way.

"you two are everything to me," you say softly, looking between them. "i mean it. i don’t care what anyone else says."

jake's hand tightens on your shoulder, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "we’re yours. always."

sunghoon nods, his expression soft but serious. "we’re in this for the long haul, yn. you know that, right?"

"i know," you whisper, your heart swelling with emotion. "and i wouldn’t have it any other way."

the rain outside seems to slow, softening into a light drizzle as if mirroring the quiet calm that has settled over the room. jake’s eyes meet sunghoon’s, a silent understanding passing between them before jake speaks.

jake’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it carries all the weight of the moment. “come here,” he says, his fingers lightly tilting your chin to face him.

shift slightly, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and love that bubbles beneath the surface. the connection between the three of you is palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions. jake’s lips brush against yours in the softest of kisses — tender, almost hesitant. it’s sweet, gentle and yet it sends shivers down your spine, the kind that makes you melt into him even further.

sunghoon watches quietly, his dark eyes studying the two of you with a calm intensity. there’s no jealousy, only a quiet reverence for the love you share. after a moment, he reaches out, his hand resting on the side of your face, guiding you toward him. his lips meet yours next, the kiss deeper, slower. where jake’s kiss was light and playful, sunghoon’s is grounding — steady, like him. his thumb caresses your cheek as he pulls back, resting his forehead against yours for a moment, both of you breathing in sync.

"you’re so beautiful," sunghoon murmurs, his voice deep and quiet.

jake presses a kiss to your shoulder before leaning back into the couch, watching the two of you with a soft smile. “i could stay like this forever,” he says, his voice breaking the quiet but only adding to the warmth surrounding all three of you. “just the three of us, like this.”

you let out a soft laugh, leaning into the warmth of jake’s chest and resting a hand on sunghoon’s knee. “we really do fit together, don’t we?”

sunghoon nods in agreement, his fingers running absentmindedly along the hem of your shirt, a comforting gesture. “perfectly,” he says softly, almost as if he’s still amazed by how seamlessly you all connect.

jake chuckles, his hand slipping down to intertwine with yours. “we’re like puzzle pieces. weird, unconventional puzzle pieces, but we fit.” his grin widens, eyes sparkling mischievously. “and no one else can figure it out but us.”

the three of you share a soft laugh, the kind that fills the room with a warmth even the rain can’t dampen. outside, the storm has softened to a gentle drizzle, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the window creating a peaceful lullaby.

sunghoon leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before turning to jake. there’s a pause, an unspoken invitation hanging between them before jake smiles and leans forward. their kiss is unhurried, filled with a mutual tenderness and understanding that never fails to make your heart swell. when they part it’s with a soft sigh, their foreheads resting together for just a moment longer.

you watch them, feeling a deep sense of contentment settle in your chest, you’ve never felt more at peace, more loved than in moments like these — wrapped in the arms of the two people who mean the world to you.

“let’s stay like this a little longer,” you suggest quietly, not ready to break the spell of the lazy afternoon.

jake chuckles softly, pulling you closer to him. “i’m not going anywhere.”

sunghoon hums in agreement, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand. “we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

and with that, the three of you settle back into the quiet comfort of each other’s embrace, the rain outside fading into the background as your world becomes nothing but the love and warmth that you share.

it’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are — to have found not just one, but two souls that complete you in ways you never thought possible.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[sugar-coat-it]

Touch Tank

He’s so pretty when he goes down on me… <3

THE MAKEUP FIC LADIES AND GENTLEMEN AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN

Fluff into smut because I am a sappy bitch. It’s actually quite soft despite being dirty. 

Fem! Reader

Contains: Sub! Matty, him being a sweetie pie and guiding her into it, facesitting/riding, makeup ruining, praise kink (good boy, pretty boy, etc.), Matty cumming in his pants, hair pulling, Matty Healy worshiping that cunt idk what else to tell you

WC: ~4,600

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Matty asks you to do his makeup for him… and then ruin it by sitting on his face

—---------------------------------------------------

You glance at Matty through the reflection in the mirror, your heart swelling in your chest at the adoring look plastered on his face. He looks so incredibly gentle, his eyes soft and practically sparkling as he watches you apply concealer onto your skin. Only a few minutes ago, he’d plopped himself down on the lidded toilet near you and insisted that you show him how you do your makeup while you get ready for your girl’s night out. His longing gazes have proven to be very distracting as your working hands almost slow to a stop.

“Just pretend I’m not here! What comes next?” he urges, leaning his chin against his hand casually.

“Alright, alright! Next is the powder,” you explain, starting to refocus as you run the brush through the pan of skin-toned pigment. 

Matty’s eyes can’t seem to stay focused on one thing, flicking between the product you’re using (taking note of the brand you use), your pretty face, and the way your steady fingers curl around the makeup brush. He murmurs the word “powder” to himself like he’s trying to commit the steps you take in your routine to his memory. Boyfriend training, if you will.

“Right… so, do you really need the primer, the concealer, and the other thing? Why haven’t they just combined them all? It’s an awful lot of work for you makeup users,” he muses, talking as if he knows what any of them are really for. 

“I have no clue, babe. You should really get on that,” you chuckle, stealing another glance at him through the mirror. 

“Yeah, I should, shouldn’t I? What’s that one for, then?” he asks, reaching out and pointing at the powder in your hands. 

“This? It’s to set everything in place that we just put on,” you explain, finding it quite sweet that he’s so curious about this little piece of your life, as mundane as it might be. 

Matty hums and nods thoughtfully, seeming satisfied with knowing more about makeup than he did before. Not just any makeup, but his girl’s makeup that she takes so much time to get right. There’s something very domestic about this moment, everything feels a little softer when it’s just you two like this. Even the moonlight seems to seep through the window gentler. Matty’s life is irregular, there’s no denying that. It’s what makes these moments of calm feel so sacred, so untouchable. 

You continue carrying out your routine, going a little slower than usual to prolong it all, your brush strokes lingering a little longer than necessary as you brush a tastefully shimmery shade on your eyelids. Your boyfriend is unusually quiet as he admires you with those sleepy eyes. It’s not often that he isn’t either speaking or waiting for someone to finish talking so he can get a word in. The silence feels comfortable for both of you, it settles over the bathroom like a blanket. 

“Ah, wait, I know that one,” he interrupts, suddenly sitting up straighter as you take out your next product, snapping his fingers and pointing at it, “that’s mascara.”

Matty looks absolutely triumphant, crossing his arms over his chest with a slyness plastered on his face. You let out a breathy little chuckle, only managing half of an eye roll before a warm smile tugs at your lips. 

Once you’ve finished, Matty clears his throat to get your attention, looking as though he’s mulling over asking you something. 

“Hey, I know you said you liked those pictures you saw of my stage makeup. I haven’t really done it in a while… y’know, if you wanted to do some on me… before you go to your party,” he offers softly, trailing off as he looks up into your eyes. 

“Wait, are you serious!?” you exclaim, your eyes lighting up with a grin on your face that could rival a kid’s smile on Christmas morning. 

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, chuckling as you already scramble to grab all your supplies, sliding them towards the closer end of the counter, “I’m going to trust you here, but you’ve got the perfect chance to fuck me up good, making me look like a proper circus clown.”

“I would never!” you gasp, feigning offense at his comment with a dramatic hand over your heart, “why on earth would I do that when I have the opportunity to make you the prettiest of princesses?” 

“The what? Nah, never mind that, you’ve just lost the privilege.” 

“No, no, no I’m sorry, I’ll behave!” 

Matty eyes you suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll be calling him “baby girl” or something next. Out of the goodness of his heart (and because he does really does want you to do this), he nods at you, crossing his arms over his chest. You just smile giddily, leaning down to kiss his forehead while he mumbles “Yeah, yeah, c’mon do me up”. 

You’ve decided to go easy on him and not do a full face, just his eyes and lips. With that, you crack open your makeup pallet reserved only for fun occasions, it’s filled with shimmery, bright colors that immediately attract Matty’s distractable eyes. You hold it up to him for him to get a better look, his brows furrowing as he no doubt contemplates what he thinks would look the coolest.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, still very excited that he’d not only agreed to let you do this but was the one to suggest it. 

“Maybe this blueish one? I dunno, is that what any basic straight guy would pick?” 

“You’re overthinking it. I think it would look really nice on you.”

You dip your eyeshadow brush in the pan, instructing him to close his eyes for you and stay still the best he can (not the easiest of feats for one Mr. Healy). He does, his gaze softening before he lets his eyes flutter shut. With your free hand, you reach out and gently tilt his face to be angled properly. You feel a little warmth blossom in your chest as you realize how intimate this feels, especially with how serene he looks as he closes his eyes. Even though it feels silly because it’s just doing his makeup, your heart still thrums a little faster at the little display of trust.

When you touch the brush to his eyelid, he lets out a short, very Matty-sounding giggle as he tells you that it feels “quite nice”. You chuckle along with him, switching to the other eyelid once you’re sure the other one is evenly applied. Your touch is delicate as you hold the side of Matty’s face, your eyes squinting with concentration as you work. He’s warm under your fingertips. You notice how soothed he seems by you handling him like this, almost hypnotized by the brush strokes. He looks so soft. Unjaded. Untouched. 

While his eyes are closed, you reach for your eyeliner, warning him before you touch the point of it to his lash line. Still, he flinches slightly when the liner touches his eyelid, his nose scrunching up a bit as you do your best to trace a steady line, despite the way his eyelids flutter.

“You’re moving, Matty.”

“M’not!” he insists (he is). 

With a bit of fixing, you’d managed to draw out two almost even wings. At your permission, his eyes blink open again and the sight almost steals your breath away. The blue is bringing out the honey tones of his irises, his sleepy eyes defined by the complimentary liner. He’s beautiful. 

“Do I look hot?” he asks, blinking faux seductively.

“Very hot,” you grin, inspecting your work as you keep a tender hold on his chin. 

It’s not even a joke, he does look hot. You’ve always not so secretly adored his more feminine side, getting absolutely giddy whenever he wore a skirt around the flat or painted his nails. You rub your thumb over his cheek affectionately before reaching back over to the counter for your mascara wand, holding it up to him before you unscrew the cap. It’s the only one he’d recognized from earlier, so of course you’re going to tease him a little. 

“Time for your favorite,” you joke, moving to position yourself in front of him. 

Matty glances at the wand for a second before nodding slowly, smiling with his tongue between his teeth boyishly. 

“Mascara,” he recalls smugly.

It quickly becomes his least favorite when he painstakingly can only blink when you tell him to, this wand object being far too close to his eyeballs for his liking. He groans dramatically between the blink breaks that you give him, pulling all sorts of odd, exaggerated faces.

“That was god awful, hated that,” he broods, shaking his head at you. 

You make up for it with an apologetic kiss to his cheek, then wipe away the pink trace of your lipstick on his skin. You reassure him that you’re almost done, now retrieving the same shade of lipstick that you’d done on yourself. You slowly ease his lips apart with the hand on his jaw, Matty being totally pliant while he gazes at you quietly. You start to apply the color to his lips, swallowing thickly as you try not to get distracted by his mouth. Despite your best efforts, your face feels a little hot as quiet tension blooms. His pupils have practically doubled in size at this point from how enamored he is with you in this moment. The tension only grows stronger when you finish, standing behind him as you lead him to the mirror.

“Oh, shit. I look… I look really good,” Matty gawks, his lips parting as he eyes himself in the mirror.

“You do. I’d go as far as to say that you look fucking stunning,” you whisper near the shell of his ear, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

The two of you stay like that for a bit longer, both admiring him in the reflection of the mirror, your hands settled on his shoulders and your lips brushing against his ear. With a smile, you place a tender kiss on his neck before leaving him to gaze at himself some more while you finish getting ready in the bedroom. 

It’s not long before Matty is trailing after you, finding you slipping your “style over comfort” heels on as he frowns at you from the doorway. The fact that you’re not still fawning over him while he looks this good is pure absurdity in his mind. 

“You’re really just gonna leave me here while I’m all dolled up for you? Shame,” he pouts, tilting his head at you as he juts out his bottom lip. Such a drama queen.

Matty comes closer and sinks to his knees in front of you at the foot of the bed, his calloused fingertips running up the expanse of your smooth legs. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he reaches for the ankle straps of your shoes that you’d just put on, leaning his cheek against your knee as he starts to unclasp one of them with nimble fingers. You don’t stop him. He knows for a fact that he’s putting you in a position where you couldn’t possibly say no to him, not when he’s looking at you like that, his naturally gorgeous features only further accentuated by the makeup you’d done. Maybe being fashionably late isn’t such a big deal… Sarah hosts girl's nights all the time. Besides, Matty seems to have other plans for convincing you that the party is hardly a priority. You swear if you squint, you can see a plan racing to come together in his head as you gaze down at him, drinking him in while he’s on his knees. 

“We don’t really have the time…” you murmur, reaching with one hand to card your fingers through his hair, holding it away from his eyes while he undoes your shoes. 

Sex with Matty is never a casual affair. He takes his sweet time with you, taking you apart with his mouth and his fingers before he even thinks of being inside of you. He doesn’t just please, he satisfies. Matty’s devoted appetite cannot be given a time constraint.

Once he’s finished sliding both of your shoes off, carefully setting them to the side, he clambers up onto the bed and lays down behind you. His head is tilted in your direction as he reaches his hands out to you in a grabbing motion, urging you to come closer. 

“You could sit on my face,” he suggests, not a trace of hesitation in his blunt tone. 

“What?” you gape, your eyebrows knitting together.

“You heard me,” he quips, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “Stay. Use me.”

You shake your head in disbelief, letting out a chuckle at his wanton request. Forcing yourself to swiftly regain your composure, you turn and slink towards him, sitting on your knees at his side. It would probably be faster than sex… right?

“Where is this even coming from? Is that something you think about a lot, babe?” you smile teasingly, reaching over to cup his face, scratching your nails under his jaw. 

Matty’s gaze shifts to the side and he shrugs, a coyness playing on his face as his cheeks become rosier. No one gets to see him like this but you, this is your Matty.

You sigh, your eyes flickering down to his painted lips that curl up with a mischievous quirk. 

“You’d hardly be able to breathe, Matty- no, stop, don’t look at me like that, I’m serious! These things don’t always work out like they do in your pornos,” you laugh, but you are genuinely concerned about hurting him.

“The fuck do I care? If I can breathe, I’m not doin’ it right,” he huffs petulantly, his greedy hands reaching for your hips to guide you into straddling him, “Literally crush me, I can take it, I’m a big boy.” 

You shoot him a look and he just offers a wide, toothy grin, reaching behind you to grab handfuls of your ass through your dress. The fabric rides up your thighs higher with every little movement, feeling a lot shorter when it’s barely covering your panties. 

“I dunno about a big one, but you definitely are a boy sometimes, Healy,” you tease, leaning over him with your hands splayed on his chest for support. 

“You love it. Are you gonna sit that sexy ass down on me or what?” he smirks, only proving your point further as he waggles his eyebrows at you.

You can tell he’s not going to let this go, not till your thighs are locked around his head. Just as you’re about to open your mouth again, he’s easing the fabric of your dress further up your legs, letting out a satisfied hum as it bunches around your waist. He avidly smooths his hands over the newly exposed skin, need seeping through his touch. Matty’s voice is breathier when he speaks again, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“Please, darlin’, want you to ruin the pretty makeup you did for me so nicely,” he whispers.

 Instantly, heat surges under your skin, your breath catching in your throat at the way he spins his sugary words. That’s something you hadn’t considered. The image that flashes through your mind: Matty between your legs with his makeup smudged down his flushed cheeks. It makes a pang of want rip through you. Suddenly, it looks like your girlfriends will be taking the first round of shots without you.

���... okay,” you relent, chewing at your bottom lip. 

“Yeesss, that’s what I thought,” he celebrates, drumming his fingertips against your hips excitedly, “C’mere.”

The actual process of sitting down on his face seems fairly daunting to you, your limbs feel more awkward than usual, and heat is prickling at your cheeks at the idea of actually straddling his head. It’s an awfully compromising pose to be in. Matty notices how stonewalled you seem, his thumbs rubbing encouraging circles into the bones of your hips. 

“It’s okay, I’m serious, I want you to. Here, let me just…” he trails off, urging you to lift your hips by easing them upwards, letting you do most of the movement.

“So gentle,” you tease, noticing how light his touch is, like you’re his most delicate possession.

“I am when I want to be.”

Matty guides you till you’re kneeling above his head, peering down at his warm, sparkly eyes. He looks even prettier from this angle, his sea of dark curls is spread around his head like a halo. The little smile plastered on his face says “See? Not so bad.”. And it’s not, not when he’s holding both of your hands, his thumbs running over your knuckles carefully. He gives one of your hands a squeeze before letting go, placing two tender fingers at the waistband of your panties. He slides them down the front of the lacy fabric till they meet the dampness that’s gathered between your thighs, only setting your skin more ablaze. Matty hums approvingly, the noise rumbling low in his chest as he hooks his fingers under the material, sliding them to the side. 

“Oh, fuck me. Perfect fucking cunt,” he groans, spreading your honeyed folds and marveling at the way your arousal gathers on his digits.

You laugh lightly at how he acts as if he’s seeing you like this for the first time and he just smiles, enamored. Matty catches his lower lip between his teeth as he runs his hands over to your thighs, holding them as he nods to signal that he’s ready for you. 

“Yeah?” you breathe, feeling your heart hammer against your ribs. 

“Yeah.”

Matty blinks up at you eagerly, vying for your complete attention with every flutter of his mascara-coated lashes. His eyes are wide and twinkly, only shining brighter when you start to slowly lower your hips down. His needy gaze is wildly flicking back and forth between your face and your core, slicked and glistening with your arousal. There’s a slight burn simmering in your legs at just how teasingly slowly you’re sinking downward, much to Matty’s vexation. He tugs slightly at the soft skin of your thighs, a little whine escaping the back of his throat as he anticipates the lack of oxygen to come. Matty presses his lips to any skin he can reach on your thighs, hurriedly peppering pink lipstick marks till you’re totally littered with them. He smushes his cheek to your inner thigh, his muss of dark curls tickling at your skin as he pleads with you. He looks so fucked out and you haven’t even started. 

“Please, please- please, baby,” he murmurs, his tongue darting out to run over his pink, plush lips between kisses to your skin. 

You smile down at him warmly, feeling your heart almost burst at just how badly he’s craving this, how long he’s likely fantasized about you using him for your pleasure this way. He’s behaving oh-so politely for a man so normally fond of brashness. 

“I-I need it… please, just fucking use me,” Matty whimpers, his voice breaking slightly, his tone shooting straight to your cunt.

Finally, you indulge him, inching down the rest of the way until you’re perched on his face, your knees on either side of his head. You gasp as he doesn’t waste a single moment before his tongue is working against you with practiced swirls and figures. He’s giving you no time to even think twice about being embarrassed by the lewdness of your positioning. Your hands go flying to support yourself against the headboard, feeling like your breath has been ripped straight from your lungs as Matty laps at your sopping cunt. His shimmery, blue eyelids flutter shut as he groans against you, his hands snaking up the backs of your thighs to your ass, holding you down against his mouth firmly as he devours you. Your whole body shudders as he drags his tongue to your clit, flicking the tip of it against the bud. Liquid, carnal need is filling you right to your bones. 

“Fuck! That’s my fucking boy, so good for me,” you sigh out, tossing your head back as you start to reflexively grind down on his tongue “You enjoying yourself, hun?”

Matty lets out syrupy moans that vibrate against your core, only adding to the dizzying pleasure reverberating inside you as he nods his head. His lashes flutter, his eyes rolling back until only the whites are visible as you start to find your rhythm, rocking your hips into his mouth to chase the climax just beyond your fingertips. You let out a quivering moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard to tighten the coiling heat in your belly, he knows all the little tricks to make your head spin. He hasn’t spent all this time learning your body for nothing, sometimes you think he might know it better than you do, effortlessly puppeteering you into the throws of pleasure. 

 Matty’s cock throbs and twitches in his trousers as the plushness of your thighs start to constrict around his head, smiling into your cunt as he truly does enjoy himself, evident in the way his hips are squirming against the mattress. The blissed-out look on your face only fuels his determination that much more, you’ve lit that familiar, insatiable fire in him. You glance over your shoulder and catch the way his thighs flex as his hips jolt upward into nothing, his dick aching and straining against his pants. You always knew Matty got off on you feeling good, but watching him pathetically hump the air while he eats you out is really getting to your head, you feel a little dizzy with a rush of power. Any sense of worry about putting more of your weight onto him is totally dissolved, overshadowed by the sensations rendering your mind fuzzy. You’re weightless. 

“Tastes so sweet, so fucking good,” he rambles, his voice muffled and wavering, barely audible from under you. 

The urge to own, to ruin flares up in you like a struck match. One of your hands strays from the headboard, reaching to grasp a handful of his meticulously cared-for curls (he pokes fun at the amount of makeup you have, yet his curl-care product collection is extensive). Matty whines, his eyebrows sloping, eyes squeezing shut as he feels your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling on it firmly at the root just the way he likes it. He tugs your hips down onto his face harder, like he’s trying to drown inbetween your legs. 

“Oh my god… good boy, Matty,” you croon, panting as the tension compounds with every swipe of his tongue.

Matty’s hips buck particularly harshly at your praise. He’s quivering at the slight friction from the tight fabric of his pants, but he won’t allow himself to indulge in more than that, he’s far too preoccupied with satisfying you. You smile hazily at how instantly he reacts to the pet name, curious to know how far you can take this while he’s so pussy drunk.

“So fucking pretty for me like this,” you compliment breathlessly, watching as the half of his face that’s visible to you contorts with neediness. 

He looks like he could burst like a horny balloon, poor thing. The bed is creaking from the way his hips writhe, rose tattoo lifting up to meet the air. He’s eating you out urgently, his brows drawn together tightly as his tongue fucks in and out of you deeper than you’ve ever felt, the tip of his nose nudging at your swollen clit. You tug at his dark tresses again as the feeling makes your whole body tense, your back arching as it all builds to a fizzling high. Matty doesn’t seem to mind one bit as you start to grind more frantically, your head lolling back with a wail. 

“Close, I’m close,” you pant, your chest heaving with shuddering breaths. 

“Please, please, oh, god, cum on my face,” Matty whimpers as he pauses for just a moment, turning his face to breathe before delving back in, fluttering the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit. 

His begging is what ultimately makes your orgasm crash over you, the tension snapping as you ride the white-hot waves of your orgasm out on his mouth, euphoria rushing through your veins, throbbing at your core. You can’t fully understand him, but what you can make out are garbled moans of your name and babbles of “I love you” as he watches you arch backward, his tongue unrelenting. You let out a cry as the stimulation gets to be too much, your thighs trembling as the sensations crowd you. You have to physically get up off of his face before he stops, gasping for his breath as you settle back down on his hips.

It’s only now that you get to truly see him and god, he’s a beautiful fucking wreck. Your vision is slightly hazy as you peer down at him, the afterglow pleasantly clouding your head as you simply admire him. His eyeliner and mascara have slightly run down his cheeks from the heat, blue eyeshadow smudged and shimmering under his eyes. What’s left of his lipstick is spread around his grinning mouth, glistening with your arousal. Unruly, stray curls stick to his forehead with sweat that glows in an angelic sheen over him. You’ve ruined him, and he couldn’t be happier. 

“Fuck, that was incredible,” you breathe, draping yourself over him to kiss his needy mouth. 

Matty lets out a dazed giggle against your lips, humming contently as you taste yourself lingering on him. When you shift forward, you feel a distinct lack of the hard-on that was against his thigh when you started. Curiously, you pull away from the kiss to find that the protrusion in his trousers is missing, and in its absence, a sizeable wet spot soaked into the fabric. Pride simmers deep inside you as it quickly clicks into place. 

“Matty… did you cum?” you ask, as if it’s not obvious. 

He squirms, biting the inside of his cheek as he glances off to the side like the wall has suddenly become extremely interesting. Your smile is almost wolfish as you lean over him, grasping his jaw with one hand to turn his face towards you. His eyes rimmed with runny makeup get wider. 

“I-I…” he stammers, his voice cracking and trailing off into a little gasp. 

“Felt so good that you came without me even touching you?” 

Matty nods slowly, tilting his chin down to drag his pink-bitten lips against your hand, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Say thank you,” you whisper, purposefully pressing your thigh (still covered in his lipstick marks) against his softening cock, just to get another pretty, breathy sound out of him as his eyes roll back. 

“F-fuck. Thank you. Thank you, baby,” he mumbles, staring up at you like you’re some kind of deity while he kisses the palm of your hand, “don’t go yet, please.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, sweet boy.”

You capture his lips again and he smiles into the kiss, his hands tentatively knotting into your hair and ruffling it. He rolls the two of you over to embrace as you exchange murmurs of sweet nothings. You’re frankly disgustingly in love, and neither of you would have it any other way. 

————————————————————————

This one has been in the works for a whiiiile

I’m dedicating this to Ace @ughgoaway , the biggest makeup fic supporter and one of my dear friends <3

[sixosix]

5k event request :P

Kazuha, light stick, and fluff please

a/n hi anon! when i saw light stick, i instantly interpreted it as those kpop light sticks,, im not sure if u meant something else like those glow sticks, so i am hoping this was what u meant HAHA

wc 700, idol!kazuha/fan!reader, im sure u guys have heard of the 6REEZE group somewhere, meet-cute; disclaimer i only know how auction works from my classmates roleplaying them so ignore accuracies for fic’s sake. bless.

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

Kazuha, to be frank, felt a little embarrassed.

His features stood out too much, his friends told him. To go out and enjoy the fresh air of the day, he had to not enjoy the fresh air with a face mask, conceal his red streak of hair by clipping it back and burying it under a cap, and wear green-tinted sunglasses (also to disguise the red of his eyes) that he was struggling to get used to.

In his defense, His friends weren’t any better. Aether’s braid could be recognized with only that, Venti’s glowing braids weren’t any better, Heizou’s shade of hair and green eyes would stand out—if not his unique voice, and everyone knew Xiao even if he were to shave all his hair off. Scaramouche could be salvageable, but one word from his mouth and his fans would fall to their knees—it could be his voice, but it would be the attitude.

Kazuha felt a little too hot with his disguise, but he wanted this, so he would go through with it. He tugged his mask under his nose, relaxing at the scent of the open air. The mall had an open area with trees all over; the leaves fell to the ground, and the wind brushed past. Kazuha couldn’t feel it, having been stuffed under layers, but he was satisfied.

Although it felt embarrassing to be clothed in this disguise, he couldn’t go outside this freely before. He was going to make the most of it.

And then he passed by a stall that had him doing a double take. Kazuha took a few steps back, lighting up with recognition. He couldn’t be mistaken, not with that familiar symbol of Anemo. The stall displayed a light stick of their group, released only a few days ago.

His friends would have a blast if he came back with it, most likely, Kazuha mused. Maybe he could bring it back as a gift.

A hand shot out from the side, blocking his view of the light stick. Kazuha blinked, a little surprised. He followed the arm's stretch and came face-to-face with an angry stranger.

“Hey, you!” you said. Kazuha felt like he needed to stand straighter at the tone. “I had my eye on this one first, ‘kay? Whatever number you have in mind—keep it. I finally get my hands on one of these; I’m not letting it go!”

“Oh, this was an auction?” he asked curiously. The stall didn’t seem to be being run by anyone at the moment, and no one else was there.

“Well, no,” you sniffed, “but I would win. I already told the seller I called dibs on this one—wait until she gets back.”

Charmed, Kazuha smiled. “Two thousand.”

“Three.”

“Three-thousand, five hundred?”

“Five-thousand, three hundred.”

Kazuha had to wonder: “How much do these usually cost?”

“Five thousand, if you’re lucky. I’ll make it ten thousand, easy. Are you still not backing down?”

Kazuha laughed under his breath. Were you serious? Were you actually willing to drop that much for this? “Alright, I cede. I apologize for attempting to defeat you.”

You grinned, eyes sparkling quite literally as your gaze slid back to the lightstick. You were very pretty. “Yeah, I thought so.” You eyed him curiously; Kazuha suddenly felt a little shy. “Are you a fan as well?”

Kazuha nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from your genuine smile for a few moments. His eyes drifted down to your shirt, which had the same Vision of the lightstick—but there was something else. “You could say that.”

Your shirt had maple leaves swirling around the logo, and Kazuha could recognize it all too well because he was asked to sit down and draw it for their merchandise—something personal for each member. Did Kazuha have the right to suspect what it meant that you were wearing his?

Emboldened, Kazuha gestured at the lightstick. “As a fellow enthusiast, may I extend my offer to cover this purchase?”

You blinked and stuttered. “W-What— You don’t have to! I literally stole it from you!”

“So you confess that you pried it off of me?” Kazuha teased.

“That’s not—Listen—” You stared at him, then got flustered. “Hold on, are you hitting on me?”

“Yes.” He took off his sunglasses and tugged down his mask, flashing a sweet smile that he knew was utterly unfair. Your face bluescreened out of pure shock. Without the mask muffling his voice, it was clear as day. “So, will you let me?”

[ataliagold]

Or Maybe We Don't

For @astrangersummer week 7 prompt 'or maybe we don't'.

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington

Rating: G

W/C: 1280

Tags: Steddie, first kiss, getting together, beach holiday, sunset, fluff, Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, love confessions

Summary: It's the final day of Steve and Eddie's summer trip, and Steve has something he needs to tell Eddie.

___

Sunset was approaching, the sky a brilliant array of orange and pink, light sparkling off the water flowing forward then receding away again in gentle waves.

Steve was sitting with Eddie in the sand, looking out across the empty beach. It had been busy earlier – families set up for a day in the sun, kids building sandcastles, people playing in the surf. Most had been day-trippers, now packed up and departed, leaving just Steve and Eddie to take in the slowly sinking sun.

It was their last night at the little seaside house that Robin’s aunty had let them use for a few days for a brief summer getaway.

Robin and Nancy were supposed to have come on this trip with them, but Nancy had come down with some flu she’d caught from Mike and Robin had stayed behind to take care of her.

That left only Eddie and Steve, and this unspoken thing building between them that neither had managed to mention yet.

It was stolen glances, hands brushing not-so-accidentally, Steve quietly giving Eddie the pickles from his burger at the diner, nights spent in front of the TV where neither of them really focused on the movie – they were too busy looking at each other.

“I don’t really want to go home,” Eddie commented, breaking the pleasant silence that had fallen over them, “not yet. S’nice here.”

“I’m sure we can come back,” Steve told him, letting a handful of sand run through his fingers. “With Robin and Nancy.”

Something flashed across Eddie’s face, the slightest wince, and he turned away a little. “Yeah. With them.”

Steve paused. Reached his hand slightly towards Eddie’s, then stopped himself, let his hand fall again.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” His voice was tight.

Steve frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Ok. Just…you seem kinda…”

“What?”

“I dunno.”

“Good one, Harrington.”

There was no malice in Eddie’s tone, but Steve flinched a little at the old nickname anyway because he and Eddie were so far past that now – or at least, he thought they were.

Steve sighed. “I don’t really wanna go home either. I do miss Robin though.”

Eddie smiled then. “You missed her on our first night here.”

“Yeah,” Steve said sheepishly.

“It’s been good though, right? The last couple of days?”

“Yeah.”

“I know it’s not…well, it’s not really what we’d planned, without the girls, but…”

“I’ve had fun.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Steve’s tongue darted out over his lips, and he looked back out to the water. He knew why their conversation had become so stilted, why things suddenly felt so awkward, but he hadn’t been able to get the courage up to voice it.

To tell Eddie how he felt.

But when was he going to get another chance like this? They were alone, away from prying eyes, from the demands of the kids – out here they could be anyone they wanted to be.

Steve wanted to be Eddie’s.

He snuck a glance at the other boy. Took in the way the light fell across his delicate features, shining off dark brown eyes, his face so pretty despite being slightly clouded by indecision, perhaps the same indecision Steve was feeling right now.

“Eddie –”

“Steve – ”

They spoke at the same time, snapped their mouths shut in sync.

Eddie laughed briefly. Rubbed the back of his neck, tugged a section of hair across his mouth, smiled playfully at Steve.

“You first, big boy.”

“What were you going to say?” Steve asked quietly, because what if he’d been reading this all wrong, what if Eddie was going to say something completely mundane, suggest they eat at the diner tonight instead of Steve cooking, which Steve really hoped he wouldn’t because he was planning on making Eddie’s favourite lasagna as a surprise…

Eddie’s lips twitched. “Probably the same as you,” he said earnestly.

Steve sucked in a breath, let it out a little shakily. Inched his hand towards Eddie’s again.

“I really enjoyed these last few days,” Steve said after a moment. “With you, I mean.”

Eddie nodded, pinky brushing against Steve’s.

“And I think…well, I know how I…feel about you. And it kinda…” Steve trailed off, looked down at his lap, anywhere but Eddie because he could feel his cheeks colouring now, and what if he was about to fuck everything up? He took a deep breath, tried again. “Well, it kinda scares me. Because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else except Nancy, a long time ago. And you know how that ended, and I don’t want that to happen again, not with you. God, not with you.”

Finally, he forced himself to look up, Eddie’s silence too much to bear.

He was looking at Steve softly, openly, his pinky looped over Steve’s now, breeze gently ruffling his hair.

Steve wanted to kiss him.

But he waited, needed to be sure, needed to know he hadn’t imagined everything between them.

“You know I’ve been in love with you since you carried my half-dead ass out of the Upside Down, right?”

Steve blinked several times in response to Eddie’s confession. “Seriously?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah. What, like that’s an unreasonable response to Steve Harrington saving your life?”

“I just…I mean, you never…you didn’t say anything.”

“I thought you were straight.”

Steve tipped his head to the side, raised his eyebrows briefly. “To be fair, so did I.”

“So you’re telling me…you’re not?” Eddie continued, his expression hopeful, his pinky curling around Steve’s.

“No,” Steve said, meeting his eyes. “No, because I really want to kiss you right now.”

Eddie swallowed visibly. Leaned in closer, until Steve could feel his warm breath dance across his lips.

“Go on then, Stevie.”

Steve closed the little distance left between them. Kissed him there as the sun farewelled the sky, slow and gentle and a little unsure of himself because he’d never kissed another man before. But instead of his heart rate spiking like he’d expected it to, it slowed under Eddie’s touch, and Steve felt calm and soft and safe because this was Eddie and he’d never felt something so right in this life.

The following day, after spending the night in Eddie’s arms, Steve was driving them back to Hawkins. Back to their jobs, back to their separate homes, back to reality.

Hand in hand across the gearbox, the two spent most of the drive looking at each other, Steve having to force his attention back to the road every now and then.

An hour out of Hawkins, Eddie spoke.

“What do we do, when we get home?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do we…tell people? Our friends? Wayne? The kids?”

“Do you want to?”

“Well…I want to be able to be with you,” Eddie said, squeezing his hand. “But are you ready for that? Steve Harrington, former Hawkins golden boy, in a relationship with Eddie the freak?”

Steve made a soft noise of protest at that, brought Eddie’s hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I want to be with you,” Steve said firmly. “I’m not sure when we tell people, let’s maybe give it a few days to think about it, but…yeah, Eddie. I want you.”

“Because we could…well, I mean, if you wanted to we could…” Eddie’s eyes darted away, looked out the window, back again. “I’d understand if you wanted to pretend this never happened. If you wanted to just go back to normal. We could, if you want.”

I can’t, Steve knew. And looking at Eddie, at his face that was imploring Steve otherwise, he knew Eddie couldn’t either.

Steve smiled at him. Brought Eddie’s hand to his lap and held it securely there.

“Or maybe we don’t.”

[finalgirllx]

festivals

short and sweet for week 4 of the jinxed july challenge. thank you to everyone who participated! it has been fun to read a whole lot of summery content! 1k words | fluff, fluff, corny fluff | f! reader

The Hogsmeade summer festival, already a wonder in the wizarding world, becomes even more enchanting as evening falls. The warm night air is filled with the scent of butterbeer and sweets, while charmed string lights cast a magical glow over bustling stalls, games, and laughing crowds. Despite the captivating atmosphere, you barely notice; your attention is fixed on a claw machine you discovered in an arcade tent.

Bested twice already, you fume as you take your third spin at it. It feels a bit embarrassing to be so invested in a simple game, but no one can convince you that this contraption wasn't built just to test your patience.

The machine, clearly past its prime, still holds a certain nostalgic charm. It features color-shifting bulbs and a faded red joystick, which stands as evidence that countless players have already tried their hand at winning one of the elusive toys inside. Its glass case houses an array of plush magical creatures such as puffskeins, nifflers, hippogriffs, and dragons that seem so close yet infuriatingly out of reach. You nearly drop a niffler into the exit chute, but the wretched crane swings it a bit off the mark, leaving you toyless once again.

"Bloody hell," you growl, barely restraining yourself from kicking the machine. None of its charming aura matters at the moment; it is lucky you haven't blasted it to a million pieces. You irritably clasp the joystick for a fourth attempt when suddenly, a large, rugged hand encloses yours to prevent another try.

"Need some help, love?" asks Mattheo Riddle, a classmate you've been flirting with for months. The smirk on his face as he gives you a once-over which would have made your knees buckle if you weren't so miffed. "I can show you how its done."

Too stubborn to let him try at first, you glance at the machine for any excuse. "It's no use, I reckon. I bet it's broken. Maybe someone's even jinxed it, a damn shame."

Of course, he saw through it and chuckled. "Maybe you're just not cut out for claw machines, love. Let me have a go at it."

Every fiber of your competitive spirit urges you to protest, to prove him wrong. But the way his thumb brushes lightly over your wrist and the magnetic pull of his gaze convinces you to relent. With a reluctant sigh, you slide your hand from the joystick and step aside to become an unenthusiastic spectator.

Mattheo takes control of the joystick with confident ease, the claw machine's colorful lights washing over him. He must have felt unusually chipper this evening because he switched up his typical all-black outfit by adding a worn jean jacket. It suits him rather nicely, especially when combined with his dark brown curls, which have grown to an unruly length. Even the cigarettes tucked into his front jacket pocket and the cuts on his knuckles add to his dreamy bad-boy look.

He focuses intently on smoothly maneuvering the claw, his tongue poking out slightly as he becomes lost in concentration. You watch, somewhat impressed but mostly annoyed as Mattheo scoops up a toy and guides it to the chute. He gleams with satisfaction as he snags the puffskein plushie you had been aiming for.

Mattheo shows off the prize triumphantly, his eyes sparkling brighter than the festive lights above as he playfully holds the victory over you. If he weren't boasting at your expense, you would find him cute as hell in this instant. Hell, maybe you still do. That is, until he lifts the toy above his head as soon as you reach for it.

"Is that how little you think of me? Do you really think I'd snatch it?" You ask, feigning innocence over his defensiveness. Sure, you were trying to nab it, but maybe you just want a closer look at the adorable toy.

"Let's not risk tearing apart the precious stuffie," Mattheo teases, waving it even further out of your reach. He extends his other hand in front of you, gently stopping your advances.

"Tell you what," he proposes, a grin spreading across his face, "Come get ice cream with me, and you get to go home with the stuffie."

You pause, tilting your head as you study him quizzically. "Are you seriously leveraging the stuffie to turn this into a date?"

"That I am. If this little puffball is what it takes to finally get you on an actual date with me, then so be it," Mattheo replies earnestly.

Your heart flutters at Mattheo's surprising forwardness. Sure, the flirting isn't new, but this chance to take things a step further with him was a lot to take in. Thankfully, you were more than ready to accept it with one condition.

"Alright, deal. As long as we stop by a few more games so I can kick your arse," you agree to the terms, much to Mattheo's delight.

As you step to his side and loop your arm through his, he hands you the puffskein plushie to hold. For him, having you by his side is the greatest win of the evening, and you are inclined to agree that being with Mattheo (and still getting the stuffie) is a pretty sweet victory.

[forest-hashira]

2 Be Loved

this has sat in my drafts for... idk exactly how long, a month at least, because i was trying to decide if i even wanted to post it here. i wrote this for myself when i was Going Through It with my depression. now that i've sat on it a while, and i've generally been doing better, i've decided it's time to go ahead and share this. i hope you all enjoy it, and that it brings you some level of comfort or reassurance if you need it 💜

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.4k | cw: gender neutral reader, plus size reader, mental health issues (reader is in a depressive episode), emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end, really this is very self ship coded

You’d spent practically the whole day in bed. And the day before that, and the day before that, and probably the day before that, too. You’d lost count, honestly; all the days bleeding together and blurring in the fog of your mind. 

This was far from the first time this had happened, and you knew it would also be far from the last. Your emotional state had been a rollercoaster for most of your life, and had only become more volatile in the last few years. You would be fine, until you suddenly realized you were decidedly not fine, with some realizations being more gentle than others.

Like this time, for example. You hadn’t suddenly buckled under the weight of the world, but instead had woken up one morning and felt paralyzed; even just the idea of getting out of bed, for any reason, felt insurmountable. So you simply… didn’t. You stayed in bed and slept between episodes of your favorite TV show, grasping for anything that might stop you from sinking further into the depths of your depression. 

Satoru had been as patient as ever, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispering a little “I love you,” before he’d left for work. He knew you struggled this way sometimes, and had never been anything but supportive and loving. Suguru had called in “sick”, opting to spend the day taking care of you, which mostly consisted of slipping in and out of sleep all day and occasionally bringing a snack from the kitchen. Satoru had joined you back in bed as soon as he got home from work, effectively squishing you between himself and Suguru, where you were helpless to do anything but let them love you.

It had reduced you to tears, shoulders shaking as ugly, half choked sobs tore themselves from your chest. They had let you cry, not rushing to try and quiet you as they might have done when they were younger; they let you get it out of your system, only stepping in to comfort you when you started to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” you’d cried, eyes shut tight as you tried to avoid their gaze. “I’m sorry I’m…” you’d struggled for words then, losing them between your hiccuping sobs and the darkness that clouded your mind. 

“I’m too much,” you’d come up with eventually. “My emotions are too messy, and my mind doesn’t work right… I feel like all I do is cause problems for both of you. Like all I do is hold you back and drag you down.”

You hadn’t seen the look they’d exchanged, the pain that pinched their features, but you had felt the way they pressed in closer, as if they could crush the depression out of you. 

“You are not too much,” Satoru had murmured, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his cerulean eyes sparkling in the low light from the lamp on your bedside table. “You could never be too much, not to me – to us.” His thumb brushed lightly along your cheekbone, delicately wiping the tears from your skin even as they were replaced with more. “We love you so much, y’know? I love you so much. Taking care of you is not a chore, or a burden.”

You’d shaken your head, unable to believe his words. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“But we do,” Suguru had been the one to speak that time. “You mean it when you tell me the same thing when I’m depressed, right?”

“Of course I do.” There wasn’t any hesitation as the words left your lips. “Taking care of you is a privilege.”

“Then why can’t you believe we feel the same way about taking care of you?”

His words had left you reeling, so much so that you almost didn’t hear Suguru when he continued. 

“Satoru’s right, angel. I love you. We adore you, and we want to take care of you. Always.”

As Suguru had hugged you tighter with one arm and pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, he’d placed his other hand on your white haired lover’s hip, keeping him as close as possible. Satoru had been eager to oblige, snuggling into you as much as possible. He’d brushed your hair from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead, one hand cradling your face while the other reached across you to settle on Suguru’s hip. They had effectively caged you in, both with their bodies and with their love. It had shattered you, reduced you to tears again, but they hadn’t minded; they were there to hold you together, to pick up the pieces when you couldn’t do it alone. 

Through some unspoken agreement, your boys switched places the next day; Suguru had gone into work while Satoru had called out “sick” to take care of you. They did their best not to leave you alone for too long whenever they could help it, but they could only get away with calling out sick when everyone knew the two of them were perfectly healthy; when the higher ups knew that you were the one keeping the two special grades and teachers from fully doing their jobs.

A few days passed with your lovers taking turns staying home with you, until one day they both called out to stay home, though you didn’t realize that at first, since Suguru was quick to return to you in bed, holding you close as you drifted off again, faintly away of the sound of the front door closing and locking before you were fully asleep. 

When you woke up again, the first thing you were aware of was the fact that you were alone in bed. At almost the same moment, though, you heard music coming from what you guessed what the kitchen, though you couldn’t quite tell, since the bedroom door was shut; wherever it was coming from, it was definitely upbeat pop music, so you knew for certain Satoru was the one who had turned it on.

With no small amount of effort, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes for a moment and yawning before you crawled off the bed on Satoru’s side. You shuffled over to the dresser then, opening drawers and grabbing clothes pretty much at random. You wound up in a black sweatshirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants, both of which were at least two sizes too big for you, which even your fuzzy brain knew meant they weren’t actually your clothes; they belonged to your two giants of lovers.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the nightstand, grabbing one of Suguru’s hair ties to pull your hair out of your face with, and, after a deep breath, you decided to brave the kitchen.

Opening the door to the bedroom allowed you to fully hear the music that was playing, and you were a little surprised to realize it was in English, rather than Japanese. Satoru liked to listen to anything that was happy and upbeat enough, but he – understandably – had a bit of a preference for J pop music. 

Still a little surprised by the music choice and a little foggy from sleep, you make your way to the kitchen in a bit of a daze. Both Satoru and Suguru were in the kitchen: Suguru at the counter, mixing something in the stand mixer, while Satoru danced around to the music, occasionally trying to steal a bit of whatever Suguru had in the mixing bowl, and being effectively swatted away every time. You stood in the doorway for a few moments in silence, just watching them in utter adoration.

Eventually, though, Satoru noticed you, and he got a bright grin on his face as he raced over to you. “You got out of bed!” he gushed, wrapping you up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, mochi,” he murmured against your scalp, and something about the nickname in combination with the praise made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle right then and there. 

Just as suddenly as he had engulfed you in a hug, the white haired sorcerer was releasing you, lunging for where he’d left his phone on the counter by the bluetooth speaker he was using for the music. You watched curiously as he opened his playlist, hastily skipping through a handful of songs before he got to the one he was apparently looking for. Seeming pleased with himself, he made sure the song was playing, turned the volume up a little bit, then turned back to you with that sparkling grin of his. 

You blinked in surprise when you heard the singer’s voice, and you looked up at him with a look of complete bafflement. “I didn’t know you listened to Lizzo.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “No, baby, you gotta listen to the lyrics!” he insisted, taking your hands and doing a very small little dance with you right there in the doorway. 

Though part of you wanted to argue, you had never been good at resisting your energetic lover, and this time was no exception. Before you even nodded, Satoru already knew you’d given in to him, and he pulled you a bit closer to himself as he started singing along with the lyrics. And not quietly, either: he sang them with all the enthusiasm in his body, and though you hated to admit it, it was contagious, even in your depressed state.

By the end of the first verse, you were smiling, a small laugh escaping you at your lover’s almost puppyish behavior. When the chorus came around, you started singing along as well, and you noticed belatedly that Satoru was singing the lines of the background singers, rather than the main chorus, like you were. 

“Am I ready?”

“You deserve it now.”

“‘Cause I want it!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Am I ready?”

“You gon’ figure it out.”

“To be loved, to be loved.”

Your singing faltered then, and you stared up at Satoru for a moment, suddenly realizing why he’d picked this song to serenade you with. He stopped singing as well, smiling gently down at you as he watched you fit the puzzle pieces together in your mind.

“We’ve always been ready to love you.”

The sound of Suguru’s voice from behind you caused you to startle a bit, but you looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Are you ready to let us love you again?” His tone held no resentment, no bitterness, only gentle adoration, and you were certain that if Satoru didn’t still have a solid grip on your hands, you would have sunk to your knees with the overwhelming realization of how much these two men adored you, despite how much your mind sometimes tried to convince you they shouldn’t.

Unable to find your voice, you nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment as Suguru leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but just a few seconds later, Satoru was tugging you back into his space, spinning you around so your back was to his chest. The song was still playing and he was apparently still determined to get you to dance with him.

Suguru laughed softly at his lover’s antics, shaking his head slightly at Satoru and offering you a slight shrug when you looked up at him for some sort of explanation.

Now the subject of Satoru’s whims, you allowed him to dance around the kitchen with you in his arms, still singing along with the song, though now his volume was lower, as he sang the words down at you. You smiled, allowing yourself to get lost in the warmth of his love, even if his fingers were cold where they wrapped around your own. 

“He call me Melly, he squeeze my belly.”

Your eyes flew open as Satoru sang the words, his chilly hands coming down to squeeze at the soft flesh of your stomach, the touch pulling a rather undignified squeak from your lips, but he just continued to beam down at you. He wasn’t going along with the lyrics of the song to make fun of you – he’d expressed to you enough times that he adored the soft pudginess of your body for you to know he meant it – but it still surprised every time he made sure to pay special attention to the squishier parts of you.

The sound of your squeak pulled another laugh from Suguru, and though at first you were planning to glare at him, you couldn’t go through with it; not when his expression was full of so much love and relief. He crossed the kitchen to reach you again, whatever was in the mixer long forgotten in favor of you. When he reached out for you, going to him was easier than breathing. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as he swayed around the kitchen with you. The movement didn’t match the energy of the song at all, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were safe and secure in his arms, and Satoru had enough energy for all three of you; it was impossible not to watch him as he danced around the kitchen, white hair and blue eyes shining, and he flashed you that brilliant grin of his every time he caught your gaze. 

Things weren’t suddenly perfect; Lizzo and dancing in the kitchen was not a magical fix-it for the irregularities in your emotional state, but it was certainly a stepping stone back to your normal. And you knew, without any doubt in your mind, that you would have the support and full confidence of your lovers behind you every step of the way. They were your way back to yourself, after all. Suguru was your anchor in stormy seas, tethering you to something real, something sturdy; Satoru was the lighthouse calling you home when the waters calmed enough for you to move again.

i hope you guys have enjoyed seeing some of my other stuff i hadn't yet shared here! though i can't promise when i'll have anything new, know that i am working on things now + am preparing things for my upcoming milestone event!!! take care of yourselves as best you can 💜. divider by cafekitsune

tagging: @kentohours @mitsuristoleme @marinnnnnnnnn @witchbybirth @peachdues

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Rainfall ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: Sharing an umbrella┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 6

pairing: Charles Xavier x fem!Reader

wordcount: 740

warnings: established relationship, alcohol use

author's note: We’re halfway done! Only five more fics left before I can set this challenge behind me! Like I said yesterday under the other Charles fic, I do plan on writing two fics tomorrow as a way to catch up after I got sick earlier this week, so get excited!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

The pub was loud and noisy as I sipped on the pint of beer in my hands. I was supposed to be celebrating with Charles, but it seems he’s caught up in whatever his colleagues are having him do. I look over my shoulder from my spot at the bar and spot him downing a massive pint of beer. He’s going to feel that in the morning, I fear.

Charles had just presented his thesis on mutation in the human genes and his theories on these mutations accessing abilities unknown to mankind to this day. And to celebrate the end of his master’s program before starting his venture into his doctorate program, a party was arranged at the pub closest to the school. Charles had also invited Raven and I, but it seems I’ve been left to my own devices. Raven couldn’t come because she was called into work at the restaurant she’s been working at. But I was free and looking forward to being in Charles’ company for the night.

The man himself stumbles into the bar stool next to me leaning heavily on the counter. The bartender sets a new, but significantly smaller, beer glass in front of him before turning to the other patrons. The dazed smile on Charles’ face has me returning it with one of my own.

“Charles,” I start, “is it such a good idea to be drinking so heavily when we have a meeting in the morning?”

He chuckles, turning his head to face me, his hand reaching to grab mine. “It’s alright, love. We don’t need to be there until later, so we can nurse my inevitable hangover with a nice breakfast.”

He leans down and kisses my temple. My eyes closed at the contact, pulling a smile from my lips. Clumsily, he separates from me, standing to take his coat off of his chair and reaching for some bills in the pockets. I get up to do the same, watching as he downs some of the beer that had been forgotten about, shaking my head as I do. Charles placed a few bills on the counter, enough to cover his tab and mine (which was only the one beer), then took my hand and led me to the door.

As we exited the nice, warm pub, I huddled closer to Charles as the cold wind of the London fall washed over us. Not only was it cold, but it had started raining at some point.

“Ah, no worries!” Charles says, briefly letting go of my hand to reach back through the door for an umbrella.

Turning back to me, he opens it up and holds it over our heads. He wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me into his side once more before ushering me on the wet sidewalk. We continue like this down the block towards his townhouse. Before we were able to reach the steps, the umbrella flew out of Charles’ hands and down the sidewalk, leaving us without shelter from the pouring rain and soaking us. We try to run after it, but it’s gone before we can reach it.

We both stand there, clothes soaking through, the cold settling into our bones. Suddenly, Charles starts laughing, bending over, hands on his knees. I join in and walk to his side as he extends back to his full height. I wrap my arms around his neck as his loops around my waist, pulling me into his still-warm body. Our foreheads meet and we stare into each other’s eyes. His blue ones sparkle with child-like joy.

“You’re gorgeous, love,” he breathes out, a hand raising to brush my wet hair back.

I stare into his eyes, rubbing my thumb on the back of his neck, before softly pulling him down in a kiss. He returns it, pushing a little further into the embrace. His lips move slowly against mine, tasting of something sweet and the beer he downed before leaving the pub.

Overhead, thunder sounded, cracking against the silence of the street. We pull apart, laughter ringing out as he takes my hand and hurrying back towards the steps of his townhouse. Getting the door opened, he pulls me along with him into the foyer. We discard our drenched coats and scarves before standing in front of each other once more.

“You are truly beautiful, I hope you know that,” he sighs, brushing my cheek with his fingers.

[jobean12-blog]

His to Protect

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 1,776

Summary: It’s your best friend Jade’s birthday and she wants to go out dancing. Joel might not love the idea of dancing  but he loves you so he’ll go and when some rando guy gets handsy he’s there to protect you, just like he always is...even if he gets a little carried away (and slightly possessive)- but it’s all out love! 

Author’s Note: I just love the protective/possessive goodness and my lovely friend @pedritosdarling made this beautiful edit that you will see below the cut (surprise hehe) that totally gave me the right vibes. Thank you so much sweets! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Dividers by sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 💕

Warnings: lots of fun, flirty fluff, tension, Joel is protective and maybe a little caveman-ish but it’s all because of the love that’s there, he’s also a cheeky litte sh*t :) 

The edit below the cut is not mine, @pedritosdarling blessed us with it, thank you love! 🥰🥵

Joel Miller Masterlist

“Son of a bitch, I wish Joel were here already.”

You mutter the words as you make another reach for the zipper of your dress but your fingertips just graze it before it falls out of reach.

“UGH!”

Picking up your phone you start to type him a text to ask for his ETA but you hear a key in your door and stop, dropping the device to the bed.

“Sunshine?” he calls.

You round the corner of the hallway. “I’m right he…”

The moment your eyes meet his you stop dead in your tracks and blatantly sweep your gaze over the length of him.

“Too much?” he asks, fiddling with the open buttons of his shirt. “Should I lose the jacket? I have my leather one in the truck.”

You slowly walk over to him, resting your hand on his shoulder as you sashay around him to get a look from all angles.

“Don’t change,” you reply in a breathy tone.

When you return to face him his lips are quirked up in a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body along his as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“So I’m presentable?” he asks, his eyes sparkling.

“Mm hmm,” you reply, letting your tongue trace your lips.

He studies you for a brief moment. His hands encircling your waist and then sliding teasingly up your back.

“You’re not even dressed yet,” he simpers, toying with your open zipper then smoothing his hands over your bare skin. “And you look perfect.”

“My zipper is not cooperating,” you answer with a demure lift to your shoulder. “I need some help.”

Your fingers slip inside the open buttons of his shirt and you drag a nail over the dark ink that lines his chest then slide them lower, hitting the first closed button and fiddling with it until it pops open.

“Good thing I’m here then,” he murmurs as his hands move higher, tempting the thin straps of your dress.

One strap falls from your shoulder and he brushes his rough fingertips over your delicate skin, producing a wave of goosebumps in their wake and making you shiver in his arms.

The front of your dress becomes looser exposing the swell of your breasts and just a hint of the lace beneath.

“You’re supposed to be helping me get dressed,” you breathe out.

“Now where’s the fun in that…” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to your newly revealed skin.

His fingers move from your shoulder and lightly graze along your collarbone, tracing the outline before falling lower.

“I know but Joel…”

You feel him hard against your stomach as he pulls you closer. His lips ghost along your jaw until they meet the skin just below your ear. He presses a soft kiss there, his warm breath caressing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “it’s still early…we have plenty of time.”

As you continue to trace his tattoos you can feel his muscles flex beneath your touch and he suddenly captures your wrist, drawing your hand from his skin and kissing your palm.

“Just a taste,” he murmurs, his nose running along your jaw.

Your phone rings, the familiar song echoing loudly in the quiet but heated moment.

“That’s Jade,” you sigh, letting your face fall to his neck.

His grip tightens as you place a trail of kisses along his throat before reluctantly stepping out of his embrace and turning to walk back into your bedroom.

“You coming?” you ask over your shoulder. “I need you to zip me up.”

You giggle instantly as you hear your own words, dirty thoughts running through your mind.

“I was planning to make you come but I guess this phone call is more important,” he mumbles grumpily as he follows you.

You bite your lip and eye him tauntingly from your dresser as you pick up the phone.

After hanging up with Jade and assuring her you’ll be there shortly you step between Joel’s spread legs as he sits on the edge of your bed, leaning your hands on his muscular thighs.

His hands settle on your waist so he can turn you around. He traces the shape of your body as his hands move higher to the zipper of your dress. He takes the small piece of metal between his large and thick fingers, pressing his free hand just above your ass as he starts to drag it upward. He reaches the middle of your back and stops, bringing you closer so he can press his lips to your skin.

The tickle of his beard makes your gasp turn into a giggle and you squirm in his hold.

“Sorry darlin’,” he says softly but continues tracing the curve of your spine with his lips.

He stands slowly, nudging you forward so he can pull the zipper all the way up.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” he grumbles.

You spin to face him again and step back, wearing a playful smile.

His eyes slowly peruse you from head to toe. “Sometimes I wonder why I ever let you out of the house.”

Your mouth falls open and you press a hand to your chest, feigning shock. You start to admonish him but he stands and takes you in his arms, his mouth twitching with a triumphant smile before he kisses the words right off your lips.

“Do you see them?” you ask, searching the bar.

He grabs your hand and pulls you through the crowd to the back corner. Jade spots you and her whole face brightens in a smile. She rushes at you and envelops you in a big hug. You squeeze her right back and greet her boyfriend and your friend Dan.

After ordering some drinks you all fall into easy conversation. Joel is his usual quiet self but you can tell he’s relaxed and every so often he interjects with something witty that makes everyone laugh.

“Are you gonna dance with me?” you ask Joel when there’s a lull in the conversation.

He stares at you and grunts.

You roll your eyes with a huff.

“Was that supposed to be an answer?” you ask.

He raises a challenging brow but remains silent.

“Then Jade and I are going to go dance,” you announce.

Jade downs the rest of her drink and hops up excitedly, grabbing your hand and dragging you out to the dance floor.

You give Joel a twinkly wave before disappearing into the crowd.

The two of you work your way closer to the center of the floor, enjoying the music and moving your bodies to the beat. After a few upbeat songs, a slower more sensual melody starts to play and you feel someone grip your hips.

Before you can turn around the stranger pulls you closer and presses you against his chest. You jerk forward, completely uninterested and appalled at the audacity of whoever is touching you without even asking.

You turn on your heel and stick your finger in the man’s face.

“I don’t want to dance with you and maybe ask first!”

“Aw, come on honey, don’t be like that,” he drawls, a slight slur to his words. “You’ve been moving those hips so pretty.”

“Don’t be like what?” you answer harshly.

Before you can get away you feel a familiar presence and a deep, gravelly voice says simply, “enough.”

“What the fuck, man?” the stranger retorts with venom. “You trying to cockblock me?”

Joel takes a step in the strangers direction, the action causing the man to take a tentative step back.

“That’s my girl,” Joel growls. “Mine. So back the fuck off.”

The guy puffs up. “What, you want to start something?” he asks.

Joel’s eyes narrow and his body tenses but he instantly relaxes when he feels your gentle hand on his, coaxing him to relax the fist he already made.

“Joel…”

He looks at you, his eyes soft as he cups your cheek and kisses the corner of your mouth. He turns back to the guy and gives him a hard look, his expression filled with a dangerous promise that sets the asshole back a few more steps.

Once the guy is out of sight Joel escorts you back to the table, a protective hand at your lower back until you’re safely tucked away.

“Oh my god! Are you ok?” Jade asks as he rushes over, Dan hot on her heels.

“She’s fine,” Joel confirms.

“Of course you are,” Jade grins, her eyes floating from you to Joel and then back to you. “I’m going to get another drink. Want anything?”

You tell Jade your order and watch her and Dan head toward the bar.

Joel sits down, his long legs spread wide at the edge of the bench and pats his thigh.

“A gentleman would offer me his seat,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Sit,” he commands.

You purse your lips.

“Please,” he adds.

You do as he says and perch yourself over his thigh, squeezing your legs together when you feel the thick muscle flex under you.

“Happy now?” you ask when he leans in close and kisses your neck.

“I’d be happier with you over my knee,” he whisper against your skin. “But…”

“But we’re out in public and you’re acting like a cave man,” you finish.

“I still wanna knock the shitheads teeth out,” he grumbles as he moves his lips to your shoulder, carefully moving the strap of your dress out of the way so he can continue his trail of kisses.

“I’m pretty sure he knows I’m off limits,” you say as you turn your face to look at him.

“You’re mine.”

“You made that very clear,” you state.

His eyes widen slightly before he hangs his head with a sigh.

“I’m sorry darlin’,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean to get all…it’s just…”

You tuck your fingers under his chin, lifting his gaze then brushing your thumb across his lips.

“It’s just what?” you whisper.

“I know you can handle yourself. You’re perfectly capable.”

You nod, your smile growing.

“I just want to protect you.”

“I know,” you coo, peppering his face with kisses. “And you do. Always.”

“But” he simpers, his mouth lifting into a wicked grin as he takes your chin between his fingers.

“Another but,” you tease, but the lightness of the moment quickly transforms into one of anticipation and need when you see the look in his eyes.

“But I want to bend you over this table, fill you up, mark you inside and out so everyone knows you’re mine, darlin’.”

@sstan-hoe  @beccablogsthings​ @justkinsey​ @hiddles-rose​ @laineyreads​ @blackwidownat2814​ @lorilane33​ @littleseasiren​ 

[mvlionheart]

2 Max / GP

Mini fic / Ficlet prompts (Open & extremely slow) 2. Things you said through your teeth Max/GP | 969 words | Rating: Explicit Miami After Dark

The sticky Miami night is a hazy blur as Max falls against GP’s side. He’s heavy-limbed and buzzing as he cranes his head to study the wash of neon signs against the moonless sky. They’re in between bars, tucked tight against each other on the crowded sidewalk, baseball caps pulled low over their faces. 

“You sure you want another?” GP gruffs, arm settled and sturdy around Max’s waist. There’s a furnace everywhere they touch, sweat pooling and dripping, the damp cotton of his shirt soaked and clinging to his body. He loves it.

GP gives his side two firm squeezes and Max’s dick twitches with curiosity. Maybe he didn’t need one more after all. One more might soften his ability to follow through on the lewd filth suddenly running through his mind. 

And, with an eerie ability to live inside Max’s mind, GP leans in until his lips brush the shell of Max’s ear.

“I could blow you?” he breathes.

It’s more of a tease than a question. Because of course Max is going to choose plowing his cock between GP’s lips over another shitty pour. It isn’t even a competition. 

“Here?” Max rasps then clears his throat. 

“On the sidewalk in front of everyone?” There’s no disbelief in GP’s tone. In fact it’s more like the voice he uses when coaxing information out of Max on the track. It’s gentle, commanding, makes Max’s throat bob as he swallows. 

“Can you imagine?” Max replies. He’s breathless and hot, tugging at his shirt and fanning it to cool the layers of sweat on his skin. 

“I’d drop to my knees. People wouldn’t pay attention at first, not around here.” GP bites Max’s earlobe and it sends a shiver like electrical current directly to his balls.

“I’d unzip those too-tight jeans.”

Max makes an indignant noise but doesn’t risk saying anything. 

“Get your dick in my mouth. I wouldn’t want anyone else to see it. Have to hide it in my throat.” “Please.” Max turns and their mouths nearly brush. 

GP pulls back with sparkling kind eyes. He steers them down the nearest alley, a right turn and then a left into a dead end loading dock for a liquor store. There’s a giant illuminated beer bottle dancing back and forth overhead as GP shoves him against a concrete wall. 

The air escapes his lungs right before GP crashes against him. His kiss is rough and intense and everything Max needs. Like stars colliding with the force to create new galaxies. The contrast of GP’s touch is dizzying, slow and precise in unbuckling Max’s belt and tugging his pants down around his thighs. 

Max hisses at the cold cement against his ass. 

“Tell me what you need Maxy.” GP touches his thighs, his stomach, every piece of exposed skin except his aching hard cock. 

“Touch me.” Max grinds through his teeth as he bucks his hips and reaches up to trace his middle and ring fingers along GP’s lower lip. “Taste me.” GP opens his mouth and Max sinks his fingers past the hot wet slide of his tongue.  

Max groans, doesn’t care that they’re in public, doesn’t try to stifle the noise as GP sucks on his thick digits. Mouth shiny as he bobs his head and holds Max’s gaze. He can hear the thrum of club music in the distance, voices carrying from the street, the reality of them getting caught making arousal churn between his hips. 

“God,” Max breathes as he watches the tip of GP’s tongue work against his fingers until it can flick and tease at the juncture between the two in his mouth, a barely visible flash of pink darting between his lips. Max can see the spit accumulating on his skin, dripping onto GP’s chin. 

Then GP pulls away and Max expects him to go to his knees, to finally give Max what his eyes have been promising all night. Instead he smirks and looks down at Max’s straining erection, heavy and full and begging for attention. 

“Jerk yourself off,” GP says, and again the tone reminds Max of something he might hear when the team needs technical feedback. 

The contrast makes Max’s head spin. His mouth opens to protest, but his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip before the words can escape. Instead he drops his spit-slick fingers to his cock and makes a tight circle he can start thrusting his hips into. 

Obedience will be rewarded. 

A concept GP’s been drilling into him for years. 

He pumps and thrusts and eye fucks GP as desperate whimpers escape past his lips into the humid Miami air. 

Impatience and frustration start to tighten his shoulders and he curls his toes as he picks up his pace. He wants GP to relent, have mercy, but he doesn’t want to beg. 

“Gianpiero,” Max finally whines. 

GP grins and slowly lowers himself, denim-covered knees finding asphalt as he anchors his hands on Max’s hips. But he still doesn’t lean in, instead looking up as his smile melts into a smirk. 

“Put it where you want it,” he offers and parts his lips, making an inviting ring that Max doesn’t hesitate to sheath himself inside. He’s already so fucking close. Watching the familiar stretch of GP’s mouth around his girth nearly ends him. He ruts forward and finds a firm grip pressing him back against the wall. GP swallows him down until his nose is buried in Max’s pubes and he’s fighting his gag reflex like a seasoned professional. The partial choking noises, the tight pressure, everything makes Max’s balls tighten and his stomach clench and he’s coming with his hands gripping the back of GP’s head. 

Max pulls GP up by the collar of his shirt and smashes their mouths together, tasting himself on his tongue. 

[strwberri-milk]

Pretty in Pink

Rafayel x GN!Reader || Insecurity Comf || 1 640 words

additional tags: readers body is undefined but beautiful is used as a word to describe attractiveness once or twice

“Do we really need to go shopping?” you whine, wishing you could just drag your heels into the ground as the two of you approach the high-end department store Rafayel insisted you needed to visit today.

“Talia’s going to make fun of me if I can’t even spoil the love of my life a little bit,” he says simply, keeping his hand on yours as you rest it in the crook of his elbow.

The staff immediately recognise him, clamouring around him as they ask if he wants his jacket taken care of, if he needs his car washed then reparked. It seems whatever whim he has they’re more than desperate to fulfill it, watching him with equal parts adoration and envy. You’re still a little shy when it comes to the glamour that comes with being his partner, unsure where you stand. He simply glances at you and now the attention is being pushed onto you, so flustered Rafayel ends up having to direct the staff to your needs himself.

“You sure do shop here a lot, don’t you?” you say as the two of you settle in a private dressing room.

“Not really actually,” he says, sipping on some sort of sparkling drink. They offered champagne but he refused it, citing driving you home and his own tendency to be a lightweight.

“That’s why they’re so desperate. The commission they make off the outfits I buy for you today is going to set them for a while.”

“Outfits? Plural? I thought we were just doing a one and done,” you exclaim incredulously, feeling out of place with all the splendour of the store.

“Well, you hate shopping so I thought we could just knock it all off in one fell swoop. At least until you decide you want something new. Don’t worry about how much stuff costs – there’s no tags on anything.”

He’s so cavalier about the whole ordeal you have to think he was born rich. You really have no idea considering he hasn’t candidly talked about his childhood but the fact that he constantly takes you places with no price tags reminds you that money is just an object to him. Suddenly you feel insecure in the simple clothes you picked out for today, picking at a hem and shifting your feet uncomfortably. You thought you’d made the right choice when he said you were going shopping, thinking comfort and something easy to change in and out of would be the right choice.

“It won’t take too long,” he says, interrupting your train of thought. “You look beautiful in everything so I really doubt we’ll be unable to find something to you.”

You laugh awkwardly, now suddenly hyperaware of the way your body looks in the gilded mirror sat across from the two of you. Perhaps you should have opted for the dressing room that had a private changing area as well but Rafayel insisted that it’d be fine. He has seen every inch of you after all but something about this moment feels far too different.

“Maybe we should change rooms. I’ll go ask the attendant,” you say without warning, getting up and walking past him.

He takes the opportunity to pull you onto his lap, frowning at you.

“Why would we do that? This room is nice enough. Besides, they’ll be coming back soon enough with a bundle of clothes for you to try on. You don’t want to really inconvenience them so much by making them swap rooms?”

Logically, the room you want to change to is just next door. However, your need to please outweighs that sense of logic, biting on your bottom lip as you weigh the options over. Your turmoil isn’t missed by Rafayel and he brushes his lips against yours, making a soft humming noise to draw your attention back to him.

“Try it out for a little bit and then we can change if you really hate it, yeah?” he offers, not wanting to push you too far out of your comfort zone.

“…fine. But just because it’s you,” you pout, making no move to get out of his lap as the staff finally start filing in.

Your eyes go wide with the assortment of clothes they’ve chosen. Rafayel was practically barking orders at them earlier, giving them a list of cuts and colours and sizes for them to draw from. Clearly, they know what they’re doing as they’re able to draw a year’s worth of clothing from his instructions. They go through and show the two of you what goes with what, justifying their choices with some sort of fashion theory you barely manage to understand.

When you look over at Rafayel he looks like a kid in a candy shop. His eyes run over the racks of clothing, darting back and forth so quickly you’re sure he’s mentally cataloguing what pieces to swap with what to create new ensembles. You trust him wholly, aware he knows what he’s doing but you can’t help but wonder if the pieces will actually look good on you.

Once the staff finally leaves Rafayel happily pulls you over, selecting the first outfit he wants you to try on. Despite the fact that there was no reserved changing area he turns around and closes his eyes, insisting that he wants it to be a surprise.

You get dressed quickly, trying not to overthink the fabric sliding over your body. It’s uncomfortable and almost cumbersome but the thought of him smiling at you gets you through it. The quicker you get dressed the quicker this is all done and you can convince him to take you to the arcade as payment for torturing you so.

“I’m done,” you say hesitantly, still tugging at your clothes.

He turns around quickly, excited smile softening as soon as his eyes meet your form. His hands wander your body, brushing your hand off of your body as he replaces them, pulling you in by the waist.

“You look great,” he says affectionately, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“I’d say we should stop here but considering how amazing you look in just this I can’t help but imagine you’d look in some of the other choices. I want to see how you look in something that’s more adventurous than just a suit jacket and some slacks. This is good enough for some boring donor event but not good enough for Talia’s show.”

You let him help you strip down before urging you into a more complicated array of fabrics. You don’t doubt that they look lovely but you doubt they have the desire effect when on your body, twisting and turning every which way when you stand in front of the mirror. A glimpse of him is caught in the reflection, still looking at you with that adoring look.

“Maybe this will take longer than I thought,” he sighs, pulling another outfit from the racks. “You do look great in anything you wear. How are we going to choose?”

An hour or two passes and the two of you finally come near to drawing a close on your try on haul. Rafayel somehow looks more exhausted than you do, laying back on the couch with an arm over his eyes. You’re finally back to the clothes you came in, more comfortable than before. All of them were lovely there was no contesting that but there was something that simply made them…less lovely.

He, on the other hand, seemed to adore you in everything. He constantly showered you in his attention, hands careful as they pick and preen at you. You can tell by the way his hands twitch that he wants to grab at you, pulling strings taut across your body and doing up buttons that you can’t quite reach.

“Just pick whatever you want me to wear to the event and I’ll be more than happy to wear it,” you sigh, leaning back on the couch with him.

“That’s just the problem. It all looks so good on you.”

He groans a little before finally standing up to talk to the staff. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying through the thick fabrics of the curtain, feeling a little antsy now that he’s gone. You perk up when he finally returns, watching as he returns to your side.

“It’ll take a bit of time but they’re going to wrap up everything for me. If it doesn’t all fit in the car then they’ll just mail to the house no problem.”

“You – did you buy all of them?!”

“You look great in all of them. I’ll just get a closet or something built for them all. Don’t worry about it.”

He notices your hesitance, taking your hand in his.

“What’s wrong? If you hate them all I’ll tell them I changed my mind.”

“It’s not that. It’s just…do you really think that?”

His brows furrow, looking at you in confusion.

“Think what?”

“That I look great in all those clothes. It feels like I’m putting on costume after costume,” you confide.

“You really think that? Weird. I think you look great in all of them.”

He pulls you over on his lap, admiring your face for a brief moment before kissing you passionately. His hands hold your hips in place as he continues to kiss you, gripping you so tightly you couldn’t move away if you even wanted to. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, gasping softly when he turns ravenous for your touch. His thumb comes up to the corner of your mouth, lightly pushing the two of you apart.

“All I could think about when I saw you was how lucky I am and how badly I wanted to kiss you,” he says dazedly, pressing another kiss to your lips.

[bellysoupset]

Some palate cleanser after the previous story 😭

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

"What was her name again?"

"Allison," Luke answered without missing a beat, his cheeks tinted pink, maybe from the wine. Bella leaned back uneasily as she watched her husband swirl the remaining bit of his drink and finish it off, catching her eyes.

Lucas was all smiles tonight. That one million buck smile that turned her off more than anything, a brilliant reminder that in another life he'd be a Forbes cover.

They were having dinner with Sylvie, Luke's boss, as well as the mayor Mr. Joshua Till and his twenty years too young wife, Marylin. It was taking all of Bella's willpower to pretend she was even mildly interested in all the polite small talking.

The mayor's eyes had sparked her eye, ambition written all over his face, and since then he hadn't bothered to talk with her. His child-bride, Bella thought viciously, was nicer and she had attempted to start up conversation twice, in a tiny voice that could not be heard by anyone other than their table and at the moment they were too busy measuring dicks to pay attention.

"What do you do, Bella?...Oh, backend developer... Sounds so scary, what's that?... My god, Joshie, you gotta hear-" Marylin tugged at her husband's sleeve and he brushed her off easily, causing Bella to cringe in sympathy.

"Don't worry," she leaned in to whisper innocently, "people don't give much thought about backend dev, not until they need an app working. I'm used to it."

Marylin's eyes sparkled at the friendly interaction, clearly the poor woman was feeling as out of place as Bell herself.

Bella's mood was quickly tanking. She didn't feel well, there was a heavy sensation in her stomach and she was glad that the rich people's restaurant served those minuscule portions, because there was no way she could eat much more than those two forkfuls she had.

Luke was busy and tonight her role was simply to play the loving, smiley wife, who didn't mind the mayor's mildly sexist jokes, like when he had first seen her and said "now I know why Luke was rushing to get married."

"You alright?" Luke whispered, leaning in, snapping Bella out of her thoughts, squeezing her knee inconspicuously. Bella nodded, opening a small smile as he planted a kiss on her cheek and whispered, "we'll leave soon."

Soon ended up being nearly three hours later. Bella was feeling clammy and queasy, she wanted nothing more than her bed.

"One closing drink and then we'll go," the mayor said, ordering liquor for the whole table. Bella bit the inside of her cheek not to grimace, she couldn't say no to the mayor, not when Luke and his boss had spent the whole night charming the man, but goddamn if she didn't want to.

The waiter came back with mini liquor glasses, tiny flutes filled with amber liquid.

Joshua raised his glass, urging them all to mimic him, "to a long lasting partnership," he cheered, before gulping it down.

Yeah, right, until the election, Bella thought sourly, before gulping her own drink down. Her already unsettled stomach flipped at the burning liquid and she hiccupped, loud and suddenly enough that Luke and Marylin both chuckled.

"Oh, that was cute-" Luke grinned, leaning her way, he was slightly tipsy, the lightweight that he was, and Bella glared at him.

"Excuse me..." she mumbled, standing up and grabbing on the back of Lucas' chair to steady herself, when the ground swam around her. Bell took a deep breath, ignoring Luke's confused glance, then marched to the bathroom.

As soon as she got inside, Bella braced against the sink and groaned as she saw her reflection. The natural golden tone of her skin had become muted thanks to her paleness and no amount of makeup could cover up how lousy she felt.

She swished some water and spat it back out, splashing her nape and neck, trying to cool down and taking measured breaths to fight the nauseous feeling starting to take over her.

The bathroom door opened as Bella was patting her cheeks with some humid paper towels, trying to wipe the clamminess without removing her makeup.

Marylin walked in, then paused on her way to the bathroom stall, perking up, "it was really nice that you were here, Bella."

Bell couldn't figure out why, considering her mood had been less than stellar for most of the night.

"Thanks...?"

Marylin offered her a soft smile, walking inside the stall. Bella was about to leave when she heard the lady's voice, louder so she could be heard, "these dinners are always so boring."

Bell cringed, she wanted nothing more than to leave, but politeness now required her to stay put while the other woman peed, "they're alright," she lied through her teeth and heard a little scoff.

"Please. Josh cannot stop talking, we're basically here as scenery. It's even worse when it's one of his committee parties," she flushed, then stepped out, smoothing her beige dress and walking towards the sink, "it's like I'm a very pretty plant he drags around."

Bella raised her eyebrows, queasy feeling in the backburner as she collected the gossip, "really? I thought you two were- Picture perfect," no, she didn't.

Marylin rolled her eyes, grabbing some paper towels, "no, you didn't. You look just as bored as I am, you're just not as good pretending. Resting bitch face case?"

A cackle slipped out and Bella rushed to cover her mouth, suddenly amused, "oh shit- I mean, sorry, sorry-"

The other woman smiled fondly, leaning against the sink slightly, "your husband's sweet," she said after a minute, "he actually listens when you speak."

"I mean," Bella frowned, "that's the bare minimum. Wouldn't have married him otherwise."

The First Lady shrugged, balling up the paper towels and throwing it in the trash, "is it?" she said in a calm voice, stepping around Bella, "how long have you two been together?"

"Six years in September," Bella followed her out, letting out a small sigh of relief as she saw Luke was standing at the door already, holding her coat.

"I've only been with Josh for three," Marylin threw her a serious glance, "we should go out for coffee some other day. I'll get your number with Joshua."

Did the mayor have her number?

"Uhm- Okay-" Bella barely finished her sentence, before the other woman was walking away, whole demeanor changing as she entered her unassuming role.

"You're pouty," Luke said, as they finally got to the parking lot, after many thank-yous and goodbyes. He had an around her back and Bella was quietly walking alongside him.

"No, I'm not," Bella grabbed the car door handle, climbing in, "I'm fine."

"Uhm..." Luke leaned in, slotting himself between her legs, his nose nearly touching hers, "don't believe you."

"Too bad," Bella planted her index on his forehead, pushing him back, "I just wanna go home, tonight was exhausting."

"Have I said thank you for putting up with it?" Luke didn't pull back despite her pushing, turning his face so he could catch her finger and nibbling at it, "thank you. I know it was boring as hell, but you being here meant a lot."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure the night would've been ruined without me," Bella rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help but smile as he wrinkled his nose and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"Mine would've," Luke pushed a curl that had escaped from her hairstyle back behind her ear, "thank you."

Her cheeks burned and Bella shrugged, unsure of how to take the honest thankfulness, "let's go home, I don't feel so good." She cringed as soon as she said it and caused Luke's eyes to widen, sobering him up immediately.

"You're not feeling well? What's wrong?"

Bella sighed, pulling her hand from his hold and rubbing her stomach lightly, "just feeling a little gross, it's not a big deal. I think I just miss my bed."

Luke opened a small smile at that, then leaned in and stole a kiss, "let's go home, grandma."

"Real weird calling me that right after kissing me," Bella grinned, but she happily kissed him back.

The drive home was uneventful, although Bella was muffling little burps against her fist for pretty much all of it. She couldn't get rid of that queasy sensation, not strong enough to make her pukey, not faint enough to let her forget it.

"I think the First Lady wants to be my friend," Bella said, once they got out of the car and she started stripping at their front door, using Luke's shoulder as support as she unclasped her heels.

"She's our age, I wouldn't be surprised," Luke shrugged, unlocking the door and stepping aside so she'd go in first. These little spontaneous bursts of chivalry never ceased to make Bella all melty inside. "Besides, you're like... The coolest girl."

"Aw, I'm flattered, babe," Bella teased him, draping herself over his back and letting out a sigh when Luke planted his hands over hers in his chest, keeping her put, "you think I'm the coolest girl?"

"Yep," Luke turned his head to smile at her, "you got that mysterious-dont-really-wanna-be-here thing going on. Got me smitten on the spot, I don't see why it'd be different with anyone else."

"Marylin called it a resting bitch face, but I love the way you see me," she muffled a little burp against his shoulder blades, stepping in rhythm with him as they waddled to the bedroom.

"What's the point of a hot woman if she doesn't look a little mean?" Luke smiled, grabbing at her forearms and throwing Bell in the bed. She fell with a pleased noise, sinking against the pillows, and squirmed as Luke promptly crawled over her.

"Don't- Luke," she shoved at his arm, "don't lie on top of me, my stomach hurts-" she rolled her eyes as Luke slid down on the bed, rolling her black dress up, "what part of my belly's hurting was an invitation to eat me- Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Luke snorted, placing a kiss against her belly, as he pushed her dress up enough, and starting to rub it gently, "doesn't feel bloated to me."

"It's not gas," Bella blushed and used this moment to pull her dress up and out, balling it up and throwing it across the room. She started removing the pins in her hair, "it's just bleh."

"Bleh," Luke repeated, smiling and pressing another kiss near her navel, "like you're gonna be sick?"

"Sorta," Bella tilted her hip, so Luke's next kiss was to the side of her belly, near her ribcage, "not really pukey, but I guess? I don't know, I just feel gross."

"You're a gift with words," he mumbled against her skin and Bella flicked at his ear. Her stomach churned once more and she groaned, turning her face to muffle a sickly burp against the pillow.

"Dinner's messing with you, uh?" Luke said quietly, resting an elbow on the bed and continuing to rub her stomach in soothing circles, seeming completely hypnotized.

"No," Bella's mouth started to get a sticky quality and she gulped down the weird sour taste, "felt like this all day."

"What?" he glanced up, surprised, "why didn't you say anything! Isabella! I wouldn't have-"

"It was a important dinner," Bell shrugged, poking his knuckles to get Luke to start the belly rub back again, "I almost threw up at lunch, but I persevered."

"You're impossible, Bell," Luke pouted, putting a bit more pressure in the slow circular motions, his thumb pressing on her side, "we could've rescheduled."

"With the mayor? Yeah, right," Bella sat up slowly, feeling a weird pressure in her throat. She pressed her lips in a line and Lucas raised an eyebrow.

"Bell? Do you need the trashcan?"

Maybe. Bella shook her head, letting the nausea wash over her and gulping down, goosebumps springing all over her.

"You're really pal-"

She hastily shoved him off of her and leaned over the side of the bed, but instead of vomit, only a small wet burp came up. Bella groaned, head hanging, as Luke went to hold her hair back and let out a small scoff.

"You're always so dramatic when you need to burp," he planted a kiss to her temple, "are you gonna puke?"

"No," Bella gulped down, collapsing on the pillow once more, "but can you get in bed and rub my belly?"

"Aw, pooOor baby," Luke teased her, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "yeah, let me just change first."

Bella was feeling more than a little drowsy by the time Luke slipped under the blankets, promptly pulling her closer to him and burying his nose in her hair, "are you sleepy?"

"Took you forever," she mumbled, grabbing his hand and moving it to her stomach, draping herself on his side, "Lu?"

"Yeah?" his mouth was pressed to her temple and his breath tickled the top of her ear, causing Bella to smile.

"Thank you for not treating me like a very pretty plant."

Lucas let out a cackle, throwing his head back and causing the bed to shake, "you're welcome?"

Bella smiled, pressing her nose to his neck and tangling their legs together, "I'd be a venus flytrap."

[staytinyville]

Hongjoong

PLEASE REFER TO MASTERLIST TO GET FULL TAROT READING EXPERIENCE

↣ Summary: God created man in his image. He gave man a partner so as to not be lonely. When the evil sin of temptation comes to ruin the very being of you, you look towards Hongjoong for resilience. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x gn!Reader 

↣ Genre: Smut (M), romance

↣ AU/Trope info: Adam and Eve!au, non-idol!au, 

↣ Word Count: 2.1k

↣ Warnings: The discovering of sex so they really like in the unknown, unprotected sex (we don’t do that here), mutual masterbation, creampie, breeding kink, you’re a bimbo bro because we high off love, sorta religious backstory, incorrect religious stories

↣ A/N: This is very inaccurate. Honestly I forgot about Hades and Persephone type stories but I have that in another imagine here (Guess which one). Also this AU sounds kind of cool. But it’s my rendition of the lovers card. We love this card! It brings us emotional joy.

THE LOVERS

Love, Harmony, Relationships, Value Alignments, Choices

This card is a card that goes deeper into one’s life between them and another being. It reaches into the depths of the heart to tell you that your emotions have reached full peak together. It can be a new romance, new partnership, or even a new budding relationship with a friend. This card is meant to tell you that where you are going with someone is where you’re meant to go.

This is a card that lets you enter your being to make the choices you want with yourself or others. It’s not just about a relationship with someone else but also with your own emotions. You can be honest and open with someone else, as well as yourself.

Ultimately this card is meant to signify the choice you have with your mental/spiritual side. You are someone who trusts and who falls. Because of this you have to understand where it is you want to go. 

VI THE LOVERS

Then the God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper as his partner."

You closed your eyes as the breeze brushed past your skin. You took in the sun’s rays that kissed your skin, feeling its warmth heat your body. As your eyes opened back up, you saw brightly colored fruits covering the floor in a bush. Kneeling down, you softly picked one before bringing it to your lips. 

The juices seemed to fall down past your lips, causing you to lick at it before it dropped further down your skin. Because you had been so entranced with the taste of the fruit, you hadn’t noticed the only other person walking up to you. 

“Hello.” You turned around, eyes sparkling at the sight of the handsome man.

His hair was pink and looked like it needed to be brushed. Locks of it fell in front of his eyes and it made you want to reach out to move it away. It had been swished to the back, like he had been moving his hands through it. He was ethereal to you–like you were seeing the creator yourself. 

“Hello.” You smiled brightly, coming to a stand. “Would you like some?” You asked him, holding out some of the strawberries you had in your palms. 

He looked at the fruit in wonder before reaching out to take one for himself. “Thank you.” He told you politely, bring it up to his lips. 

You watched his lips wrap around the fruit, making you lick your own when the juices spilled out. You tilted your head to the side as a new feeling seemed to overcome your body. It wasn’t an unappreciated feeling, but it did leave you wanting to explore it more.  

“What are they?” He suddenly asked you.

You looked down to the berries in your hand. “I called them strawberries. They are very delicious.” You giggled. 

“You're very handsome.” You told him honestly, moving closer as you circled him. 

“Thank you.” He answered, turning around to follow your movements. “You're very beautiful.” He told you, reaching a hand out to grab onto yours.

Your fingers intertwined with his, making you squeeze them. When your body began to heat up, your breath seemed to get caught in your throat as you subconsciously grew closer to him.  

“How long have you been here?” He hummed. 

“I don't know.” You spoke up. “I woke up under the Apple tree.” You told him, turning your head to look at the large tree growing in the middle of the garden. 

“You didn't eat from it, did you?” You snapped your head to look at him, watching as his eyebrows were pulled together. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“Please don't.” He told you.

“Why?” You asked in curiosity.

“I just need you to trust me.” 

The way he spoke to you made you feel light-headed. You wanted to do everything he told you because that was what your body told you to. This man was the person you were destined to be with and you were not about to go against his wishes. Everything about him called to you

“Okay.” You smiled softly.

And the man and his partner were both naked, and were not ashamed.

One day, while Hongjoong tended to the animals, you had spent the time under the shade of the apple tree. You were appreciating the smell that it brought–tempting you, almost. But every time you would think about an apple, you would be reminded of what Hongjoong had told you. 

You were going to honor his word, because his word was what brought you joy. It made your insides flutter and want to please him in any way you could think of. You began to think about him in a different way, that had you missing him.. Your thighs rubbed together, hands clenching at the grass beside you. 

However, your eyes quickly snapped open when something called out your name. 

“(Y/N).” The voice slithered closer to you.

Turning your head in suspicion, you watched as a snake made its way closer to where you laid. You sat up quickly, glaring at the animal. “You talk?” You questioned it.

“Yes, I'm one of the creations who can.” It raised its head, speaking your tongue. 

“The other animals can't though.” You told it.

“Because I am special.” It continued. 

“If you say so.” You shrugged, going back to looking at the garden blew with the breeze that passed. 

“Why don't you try this?” You turned back to the animal, watching as it brought an apple forward with its tail.

“An apple?” You raised to your knees, frowning at the fruit. “Where did you get it from?” You quickly looked up to the tree, counting all the fruit that were there. 

“I got it from the tree you woke up under.” It explained to you. 

“Hongjoong told me not to eat from it.” You shook your head. 

“What he doesn't know won't hurt him.”

You glared down at the snake, shaking your head as you began to feel uneasy with it. 

“But it will hurt me.” You shook your head. “I love him. I can't disappoint him. No, thank you, Mr. Snake.”

“It's alright!” It persisted, shoving the apple closer to you. “Truly! I'll take your worries from you.”

“No. I'm okay.” You pulled back, starting to get upset with the way the snake was forcing you.

“Just a bite.” It pushed the apple into your face, making you swat at it.

“You're being very persistent and I'm not liking it.” You frowned, coming to a stand.

“Eat it!” The snake hissed loudly.

“She said no.” Hongjoong stepped on the snake's body, stomping it into the ground.

The animal hissed, moving to try and bite at Hongjoong, but the man was quick to grab it by the neck. “You better go home before he comes down.” With that, he quickly threw the snake across the garden, far away from the both of you. 

You looked at him with wide eyes as you took in his rough look. It made your body heat up from how angry he looked. The blush began to settle over your entire figure, making you squirm. When Hongjoong turned to look at you, his features softened, reaching out for you.

“You trusted me.” He breathed, forehead placed against yours. 

“I love you to the heavens.” You smiled at him. “I will always trust what you tell me.”

“My love.” He breathed out before closing the gap between your lips. 

Your chest quickly pressed against his, hands moving to wrap themselves around his shoulders. His own moved down to your hips, pulling you tightly against him. His fingers gripped onto your fat, grunting as his cock seemed to brush against your leg. 

He pulled back from you, looking down at his length that seemed to have blood rushing towards. You looked down as well, tilting your head at the appendage that was slowly rising up. You became curious over it, reaching out to touch it. 

When Hongjoong hissed and dropped his head back, you quickly pulled back in worry. “Joong?” You asked him softly. 

“That felt really good.” He panted, taking a hold of your hand again to place it back on him. “Please don’t stop.”

You watched as your hand seemed to begin to move on its own, biting your lip from the noises Hongjoong was making from the stimulation. Your legs twitched, grinding together as you started to feel something between them. 

When Hongjoong opened his eyes to look down, he took notice of how you were rubbing your own legs together, so he thought it would be best to do what you were doing to him. The moment his fingers made contact with your heat, your hands faltered on Hongjoong’s length as you gasped out. 

“Hongjoong.” You moaned, hips stuttering against his hand.

“Does it feel good?” He whispered into your ear. “I want to make you feel just as good as I do.”

You nearly fell if it wasn’t for Hongjoong holding onto you as you did. His hand had moved from your core, making you whine. As you got back up, your hand began to move along him again, just as his own fingers began to feel you up. They probed at your entrance, just barely causing you to shift your hips to take him further in. 

You moved back to kiss Hongjoong again, tongue swiping against his from how his mouth hung open. He moaned against you, hips moving on their own. Your eyes went wide as a ball began to form at the bottom of your stomach. You wanted to push him away from it, but something was telling you to let it explode. 

And when it did, you nearly fell onto your knees. Your thighs clenched Hongjoong’s hand tightly between them, hand still moving along his length. Just as your orgasm was finishing, Hongjoong’s hit him full force, the man letting out almost a roar as he seemed to fall to the pleasure coursing through him. 

His seed was white as it covered your lower body. You looked up at him as he tried to calm down. As he was trying to hold himself together, you took some of his cum with your fingers and moved to lick them clean. 

“My love, you are truly perfect.” He sucked in a breath as he watched you eat his seed. 

Hongjoong softly placed you onto the ground, laying you down onto your back. He crawled over your body to give you kisses again, feeling his cock slap between your legs as the heat seeped out from the both of you. Without realizing it, he began to thrust his hips between your legs, moaning from the pleasure. 

“It feels so good.” He breathed out. 

“Hongjoong.” You whined, lips pouting.

You began to gasp out, moving your own hips up in tandem with his. When the tip of his cock seemed to get caught at your entrance, making you gasped out loud. There was something primal about the whole thing. Something you both somehow knew was supposed to happen between the two of you. There were thoughts that neither of you seemed to have before until that moment. 

“Please, let me breed you.” He shut his eyes tightly, forehead pressed to yours. “Let’s do what the creator has asked of us. I want to feel that primal want with you. Please feel it with me.”

“Make me yours, Hongjoong. Make love to me.” You panted against his lips. 

“Only you and me.” He breathed out, pecking your lips. “We’ll be the lovers.”

With that, he pushed the tip into your entrance. You cried out as he slipped in easily, pushing his hips forward until he couldn’t anymore. The pleasure you felt the moment he has settled himself inside you was immense. You swore the swelling in your stomach had returned and popped at that moment. 

When you raised your hips to meet his, Hongjoong cried out, quickly trying to keep you on the ground. He moved back and forth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he couldn’t stop himself from moving faster. 

Your body moved back and forth along the soft grass, your gasps coming out quickly. Your throat began to dry out, and your fingers picked at the grass as it was clenched between your fingers. The longer he went on, the closer it seemed that you were going to pass out from the pleasure racking through your body. 

Hongjoong began to stutter, whines coming out from his lips as he sounded like he was about to cry. Tears were already spilling from your own eyes as your walls started to clench around his cock. 

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” Hongjoong cried out, hips hitting your pelvis at a bruising pace. “You feel so good.”

The ball snapped inside you, stars dancing in your vision as you started to silently scream. The way your walls kept Hongjoong deep inside you, he wasn’t able to move out anymore, which led to him letting go of his seed inside you. 

He came with another loud yell, legs shaking from the orgasm racking his body. He could feel the warmth of his seed flood inside of you and wrap around him. As your legs seemed to go limp, he finally felt you unclench around him, allowing him to move out of you. As he did, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the white of his seed spilling out from you.

When he looked up at your face, he could see your eyes had closed and your breathing was trying to return to normal. His hand moved to rub at your forehead, thumb dragging down your cheek. When you opened your eyes to look at him, the smile you gave him made his entire being melting into a puddle. 

“Thank you for loving me.”

Tags : @cultofdionysusnet , @wonderlandnet , @pirateeznet , @k-vanity ,

[scribs-dibs]

vyn as a vampire is so interesting...

it's about the consumption and the desire of it all! he needs you. constantly. and he, being as closed off— as independent as he is, would hate every second of it. vyn would hate how he hears blood pumping through your veins, how your heart beats, pushing forth the very thing he needs to survive. and then everything shifts. it isn't about your blood anymore, but your skin. it dimples under his touch, because he holds you so desperately as he plants puncture wounds into your neck. it isn't about your blood anymore, but your voice. the way you sigh pleasantly, used to the soft sting of his bite. it isn't about your blood anymore, but your scent. vyn doesn't pick up on just the scent of sweet iron, he smells you on the coat he let you borrow. everytime he brushes past it as he enters his home, it's as if he’s passing by you, and suddenly he can't focus for the rest of the night.

and soon vyn doesn't care much for your physical attributes at all. the sweet taste of your blood still tempts him, sure, but the sound of your laugh is even sweeter. the sparkles in your eyes are almost blinding. he reminds himself that it is he who is the predator. you are supposed to be the awaiting prey. ...except it's him who feels encased in your jaws, in your sharp teeth. it's him who feels wholly, entirely, consumed by you.

i imagine in your first kiss, he handles you like spun sugar or like fine glassware. you feel the delicate brush of fangs against your lips, but they make no move to sink deeper. he doesn't care about your blood anymore, he cares about you. what other tastes do you have to offer him? are they as sweet, as tempting as your blood was? vyn has no doubt that they are, and he plans to uncover them all.

[littleredwing89]

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 4

PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 4

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Degrading language. Slight semi-public smut.

A/N: Please remember this is a revised version of “The Intern” but swapped out Roman for Jason. Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) xoxo

——

You stepped out of the elevator once you reached the top of the building. This was Jason’s floor. You’d been up here a few times, never for business. You smirked and ran a hand through your hair, fluffing it slightly. Your Louboutin’s - a present from Jason - clicked against the granite flooring as you made your way to his office door.

You smiled at his personal secretary, Bernice, a stern looking lady in her mid forties. She held a lot of the strings together for Jason. A firm hand was what he needed.

“Mr Todd is waiting for you Ms L/N”.

You nodded before pushing open his door. He was laid back in his black leather office chair, phone to his ear. When he saw you walk in he leant forward quickly, “I’ll call you back Grayson, my appointment has just arrived”. He hung the phone up and turned towards you. A sly grin working its way onto his face.

You felt your hackles rising at being called his ‘appointment’. Closing the door behind you, you strode across his office flooring, standing in front of his desk expectantly.

“I was told you wanted to see me Sir?”.

Jason dropped a thick wad of paper on his desk, you noticed the writing across the top. It was a new contract. A new contract for the job you’d always wanted within the Iceberg Lounge. Your blood ran cold. Was that- was that what he thought this was? Sleeping your way to the top. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to make any assumptions.

“What is this?”, you asked politely, your fingers brushing over your name at the top of the paperwork.

“A promotion”, he answered, like it was the most simple thing in the world. He shoved the paperwork towards, a platinum pen on top, “You just need to sign on the dotted line”.

You couldn’t stop the burst of anger firing through you, “Did you think this is what it's all been about?”.

Jason frowned, sitting straighter in his chair, confusion rippling over his face, “What? No-”, he played with the knot on his tie subconsciously, “I’m simply rewarding your performance”.

Your eyebrows shot up, “My performance?”.

“I didn’t mean it like that”, he swallowed thickly, your darker attitude sparkling a desire in the pit of his stomach. He felt the front of his trousers become uncomfortable as he watched your face.

“Well then what did you mean?”, your arms folded across your chest pushing your breasts up against the silk of your blouse. Jason cursed under his breath and looked away for a second.

“Because it certainly appears that you’re giving me a promotion because we’re fucking”.

Jason continued to fix his tie, ignoring the swelling between his legs. He’d seen you angry before but this was different. It was aimed at him. And fuck if it didn’t turn him on. He took a deep breath and looked at you, “Your supervisor told me your team cornered us, another million dollar sponsorship and I know better than to attribute it to him”.

You glared at him, venom pouring from you. Watching him, you noticed just how fidgety he’d become. Your eyes flickered to the front of his trousers, catching the twitch of movement. Your lips curved for a second before you pushed the contract back towards him, sitting on the corner of his desk.

“And what makes you think I had any involvement with the deal?”.

Jason’s eyes cast over your stocking clad legs crossed as you perched on his desk, perfectly accentuated with the heels he’d bought you last week. He grunted and pushed back in his chair, he needed a little space from your heated figure before he combusted.

“I don't think anyone would have crushed it as thoroughly”, he stood suddenly, “Besides who else would castrate a man in front of his subordinates?”.

You tipped your head back, exposing the length of your throat to him, huffing out a deep sigh, “Why do I feel like you wouldn’t have given me this promotion if we hadn’t been sharing each other’s beds?”.

“You’ve earned this, it has nothing to do with our other extra curricular activities”.

He followed the line of your throat down into the buttons of your blouse. Jason could see the top of your lace bra when your chest heaved with each breath. He coughed deeply trying to suppress the urge to fuck you over his desk.

“I’m not in the business of charity Mr Todd, I don’t want a step ladder because we’ve been between the sheets”.

Jason edged closer to you, stopping just shy of your inviting legs, his voice was low and raspy, “I'm not stupid Y/N. If I was, my clubs would have sunk long ago. I’m giving you what you rightly deserve”.

You suddenly realised how close he was, the heat emitting off his powerful form as he towered over you. Your eyes were hooded and dark, “I want to build my way up brick by brick - on my own”.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so damn stubborn about this”, Jason growled his hands resting either side of you, backing you into the desk. His evident excitement brushed against your core.

You glowered up at him, ignoring the fire flaring through your nerves, “I told you once Todd, are you deaf as well as stupid? I want to earn my way to the top”.

Jason’s lips smashed against yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. His hands grabbed your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him. He groaned when you reacted instantly, grinding against his crotch. It was the kind of kiss where you both fought for dominance, tongues stroking against each other.

Your hands pressed flat on his chest and you pushed him back suddenly, eyes dark with lust. You smirked and purred, “Sit down”.

He raised an eyebrow and swiped his thumb along his bottom lip which was sticky from your lip-gloss. His tongue followed suit, moaning quietly. Raspberry. He stepped back slowly before dropping into his leather chair, legs spread wide.

You made your way across to him, pushing your skirt up over your thighs. Jason sucked in a deep gulp of air as he eyed the lace top of your stockings. Resting your knees either side of him, you smirked, straddling him with ease. Your hands snaked down his shirt, popping each button open, revealing his toned chest.

Jason noticed the tiny pink thong you were wearing and let his fingers trace over the front delicately, toying with the bow and pearl decorating the hem. You shivered at his touch and mewled.

Finding his belt buckle, you ripped it open quickly, unfastening his trousers with it. His fingers dipped under your thong, gliding through your wet folds like silk. Your hips stuttered, pushing onto his fingers involuntarily.

“Even when you try to be in control, your body still bows to me”, his voice was thick with lust, thumb brushing over your clit in lazy circles.

The coil in your lower stomach tightened deliciously as he continued to rub over your sensitive bud. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, trying to muffle your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing how much you enjoyed his touch.

He leaned his face forward and kissed the dip of your throat, tongue licking over your collar bone. Working his mouth further down your front he ripped open each button on your blouse with his teeth, exposing the matching bra underneath.

“You’re so fucking stunning…and all mine”, he said smugly, nipping the top of your breasts.

Your hands freed his hard cock from his boxers and began stroking it up and down, your thumb working over the tip to spread his precum down his length. He grunted and thrust up into your hand, causing you to smirk.

“Now who’s in control?”, you teased and continued to stroke his cock, moaning loudly. The feel of his throbbing cock in your palm was sending your mind spinning, you needed him inside you now, desperate to feel him stretching your pussy.

“You going to take me, princess?”, he meant it to come out in a condescending fashion but the desire coating his voice gave away his true feelings.

Moving into a high kneel, his hand slipped from your core and gripped onto the back of your thighs, fingers painting your skin with your slick. You looked down at him, angling his cock under your entrance.

Sinking down into his shaft in one fluid motion silenced any further coherent words from Jason. He growled loudly and his fingers dug bitterly into your flesh. Your walls stretched around his thick cock and you whined his name, hands gripping onto his neck.

He palmed your ass, rocking you on his lap slowly, your clit brushing against his pubic bone making you moan louder.

“Fuck”, he slapped your ass and thrust up eagerly, smirking when your walls clenched around him.

Pushing up on your knees, you began to bounce up and down on his shaft, groaning loudly when the head of his length bumped against your g spot. Jason leaned back in his chair for a second to admire the way your hips undulated on top of him. The way your face twisted with passion and the flush spread over your skin.

Your mouth fell open as you purred with pleasure, eyes falling shut to swim in the sensations. He trailed his hands up your waist and opened up the rest of your blouse hastily. Tugging the cups of your bra down, he freed both of your breasts, nipples pebbled and eager for attention.

Jason dipped his head forward, his lips latching around one of your nipples, flicking his tongue over it repeatedly whilst pulling the other between his thumb and forefinger. Your gasps got louder and you sobbed his name, slamming down onto his cock harder, pushing him deeper. 

“Jason! O-oh! Fuck!”, you cried and dragged your nails through his hair, gripping it harshly. He growled around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth.

The way your walls were clamping around his cock, he knew you were close, he traced his hand down your front, flicking his finger over your clit swiftly whilst he worked on your other nipple. 

“I’m - fuck - I’m clo-”, you moaned louder, the words dying on your tongue as you let the pleasure consume you like a burning fire. Your body shuddered as your orgasm ripped through you, your velvet walls pulsing around his thick cock.

Jason released your breasts and grabbed your hips sharply, thrusting up perfectly, hitting your sweet spot over and over. You could only hold onto him loosely, lips smothering his neck with sloppy kisses, as the fire ignited again, deeper.

“You gonna cum again all over my cock princess?”, he drove harder into your core, feeling your walls resisting him as you came close to a second, almost too intense orgasm.

“Jason-”, you bit down onto his shoulder as your second climax tore through you with little warning. His cock throbbed deep inside you before he growled loudly, emptying his load into your pussy. You felt his hot seed coat your walls and purred, pressing your hot face into his sweaty neck.

His hips slowed to a stop, arms wrapping around your back, pressing you into his body tightly. He smelt like pine and spearmint. Something you were becoming addicted to. You left kitten kisses along his jaw before settling on his lips. Light and delicate. You felt him twitching inside you with each feather soft kiss.

After soaking in the afterglow for a moment, you lifted yourself off his lap, readjusting your clothing. He fixed his suit slowly, watching you before leaving his tie on the desk. He simply couldn’t be bothered to fix it up for the rest of the afternoon. His shirt hung open at the top, teasing the top of his strong chest.

As the tops of your stockings disappeared under your deep red pencil skirt, Jason got out of his chair and made his way to you, hand wrapping around the back of your head carefully.

“About the promotion...”, he started softly, his hand playing with the back of your hair.

“I’ve made my feelings clear Jay”, you sighed and pushed back from him, looking up at him with the same passionate stare as before. It was that fire that had pushed you so far already.

Jason rested his palm on your cheek and stroked over it with his thumb gently; “I’m simply rewarding your outstanding work which has been recognised throughout this club, not just by myself”.

He wanted you to know this wasn’t just because you were both sleeping together. Jason genuinely admired your work ethic. He knew you’d go far and compliment his clubs perfectly. He wasn’t sure how else he could go about this to make you realise.

“Princess…”.

You softened when you felt his soft touch on your cheek. You leaned into it naturally before turning to press a kiss to his palm, “I’ll think about it, ok?”.

He seemed to settle for that, before giving you a cheeky smirk, “Don’t think about it too long though, I was hoping to take you out for dinner to celebrate”.

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[babybemydownfall]

The Storm and the Sunrise Chapter 3: Rhysand Archeron (Ch 1 - Ch 2) Feyre x Rhys (x baby) NSFW "She slowed, distracting herself with the droplets of water collecting on his long black eyelashes; running down his nose and cheeks. She would paint him like this. The Drowning. And every time she looked at it, she would want to come." Feat. Feminist!Rhys. My favourite. On AO3 or...

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Springtime came to Velaris almost overnight, and brought with it the end of Feyre’s sore breasts - and the start of her pregnancy sickness. The first time it happened - that sudden rush of saliva and dread, waking her from sleep just as the sun rose - Rhys held her afterwards on the gold-veined, white marble of bathroom floor, his face as pale as hers.

“A nightmare?” he asked quietly, and she could feel his heart pounding beneath his loose cotton shirt. It was rare for either of them to have bad dreams now, but they were still scarred by the memories of each other’s terror; still petrified of seeing their mate suffer in that dark, out-of-reach place.

“No.” She smiled and stroked his cheek, just like he’d stroked her back a minute before. “Morning sickness, I think. I feel much better now.”

Rhys pressed his lips to hers but she pulled away, frowning. “I just vomited.”

“I don’t care.”

She crinkled her nose and he kissed that too. “You’re disgusting, Rhysand.”

“Rhysand,” he repeated, amused. “So formal, Feyre darling.”

“If you had a surname, I’d use that too.” She stood up, crossing to the vanity where she picked up her toothbrush and applied minty paste from a brown glass jar. They watched one another as she brushed her teeth, Rhys’s gaze as intent as ever. He seemed to find everything she did fascinating, which she understood because she felt the same about him.

After she spat into the sink for the first time, she turned back to him and asked: “What kind of person, human or Faerie, doesn’t have a surname?”

“I don’t need one.” His power crackled around them suddenly, the lamps flickering as his cold night swept by. “Everyone knows who I am.”

Feyre, toothbrush still in her mouth, just rolled her eyes.

Her mate’s laugh was a low, rich sound from deep in his chest. It made all the small muscles of her body tremble. “If I had to choose one,” he went on, his eyes still sparkling with mirth, “I would be Rhysand Archeron.”

And then the air changed, and while his smile remained Feyre knew he was deadly serious. She slowly turned to rinse her mouth, feeling completely stunned. As far as she knew, no male in either realm she’d lived in, nor in any of the books she’d read, had ever taken his wife’s name. It just wasn’t the done thing.

She pressed a warm, plush towel against her face before looking at him again. He was still staring up at her from his position on the floor, his bare feet together, knees bent and slightly apart, thick muscled forearms resting on them. He looked so casual, so breathtakingly handsome. For about the thousandth time since they were mated, she just couldn’t believe he was hers.

“I am yours,” he confirmed, reading her body and her mind. He moved gracefully onto his knees, taking hold of her hips. There was only the silk of her nightgown between his breath and her skin, and she shivered. “You are mine, Feyre, but I am also yours. And that is why I would proudly take your name. In a heartbeat.”

“But- You can’t-”

His smile grew wider. “I can.” He pressed his lips to the still-flat plane of her belly. “In fact, I just might. And our son can have your name too.”

“Rhys…”

“What?” He stood, filling the bathroom with his bulk and his wings and his Gods-given confidence. But the way he lovingly held her face in his hands was nothing but tender. “Do you not like the idea?”

Feyre could feel herself falling under his spell with every passing second. Her sickness and nausea were long forgotten. “I do,” she sighed, slipping her own hands under his shirt and over the hot, hard muscle beneath. “But I don’t think you can just-”

He kissed her, stopping the words. Kissed her on and on, tasting the mint inside her mouth, collecting her little whimpers and moans beneath his tongue. When she was thoroughly dazed and desperate for air he finally pulled back, breathing hard.

“Feyre,” he said sternly, his dark eyes roiling with lust and power. At the sight of her face he hissed and his hips flexed, pushing his rock-solid erection further into her abdomen. “Who in the world is going to stop me?”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

But she did for the burning, pulsing ache in her core. She vanished their clothes - a trick she’d made him teach her - and conjured a rainstorm of hot water in the marble alcove behind her. Rhys lifted her and caught her yelp between his teeth, his fingers gripping the back of her thighs hard enough to bruise - just how she liked. He slowly walked them into the shower, his cock twitching between her legs as she ran her nails through his hair, over his shoulders and his wings.

“Put me down,” she murmured as soon as they were under the gloriously warm water. When he complied she went straight to her knees and took his whole length into her mouth, squeezing his thighs, his ass with her hands. His wings shot out as he groaned from the depths of his soul; they spread above her head, dimming the light and shielding her from the spray. Indeed, the sound of the water pummelling them reminded her of sheltering in the forest when it rained. And the thought of that, of hiding away with Rhys in a secret place, of fucking him in the wilds of nature like the animals they were, made her moan around his cock as desire exploded inside her veins; in her very bones.

She sent him that image, sent him all the ways she was feeling, down the bond - and in return she learned just how insanely arousing it was for him to have his wings so overstimulated while watching himself slide in and out of her mouth, feeling her fingernails scratch his skin, hearing her sounds of pleasure as he pulled her hair, just hard enough to hurt.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, he gasped and suddenly pulled away. His wings folded and she felt the torrent of rain on her body again - part relief, part torment. Then he was lifting her again, pressing her back into the wall. She tensed, expecting it to be cold, but he’d warmed it - ever considerate, even in his current state.

Thank you, she sent, linking her ankles behind his back as she felt the caress of his magic, holding her up.

Of course, darling, he purred.

His tip pressed into her but he didn’t go further; instead he held both her breasts in his big hands and feasted on them until she was writhing, wetter than the shower could ever make her. She was so glad they no longer hurt. Her nipples had a direct connection to her core; sex without these sweet, torturous waves of pleasure was still amazing, but with them…

Please, she whimpered, pulling him closer with her legs. Please, Rhys. I can’t- I need-

He did three things at once, and she nearly came: kissed her, pinched her nipples and slammed into her body, right to the hilt. Their shared cries echoed inside the alcove, momentarily drowning out the constant thrum of water.

“Look at me,” he growled and she felt his fingers curl around her neck, his thumb on her chin, as her eyelids fluttered open. He pulled back and thrust in again, dragging a guttural sound from her throat as they both felt her clench around him. Her eyes closed of their own accord and Rhys scolded her: “Look. At. Me.”

She did, but it was difficult: he was so stunning in his dark power, his brazen need of her. No one in the world could match up to him; couldn’t even come close. No one could stop him from loving her, from wanting her. No one could control who he was, or what he named himself, or what he did -

Except her.

“Fuck me,” she commanded, breathless and already halfway to falling apart. “Fuck me and don’t you dare stop, Rhysand Archeron. Not until we’re both screaming.”

He didn’t need telling again.

Neither did she: she kept her eyes on his the entire time, as he pounded into her, as he held her face still and his other hand toyed with her breasts. Feyre pushed two fingers into his mouth, feeling his wet tongue swirl all around them as it had done countless times between her legs. She clenched again and he swore, his pace increasing even further. When she slid her fingers down to her clit, circling with such perfect, delicious pressure, she was rapidly headed right to the edge of oblivion.

“Not without me,” Rhys said through gritted teeth. She slowed, distracting herself with the droplets of water collecting on his long black eyelashes; running down his nose and cheeks. She would paint him like this. The Drowning. And every time she looked at it, she would want to come.

“Open your wings,” she murmured.

As he did so, she doubled the rain. The sound was extraordinary.

Rhys’s eyes widened and darkened and she sped up her fingers again, because he was all sensation and thrust and friction - and then suddenly he was the one waiting on her.

Feyre, he panted. Please-

Don’t stop.

She pressed hard on her clit, intensifying the exquisite feeling of his cock fucking her most sensitive spots, and as she started to fall, he saw it in her gaze and let go. He buried his face in her neck, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her so close as he drove into her frantically, gasping for air as she came on him, roaring in ecstasy as he came inside her.

Feyre did scream. She screamed into his shoulder and then bit him there, because she didn’t know any other way to stop the sound. It might have gone on forever otherwise, along with the endless surges of pleasure which spread outwards from the very centre of her being.

Her power flared and then faltered; the shower stopped. The sudden silence, broken only by their heavy breathing, was deafening.

Rhys pressed her back into the wall, his legs weak; pressed his mouth to her jaw, her lips. They kissed for a long time, messy and tender.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

His forehead came to rest against hers. Feyre squeezed him with her internal muscles and he grinned.

“Don’t,” he warned, “Or you know what will happen.”

She laughed softly. Her hips and thighs were aching; she was already too sore to have him again. Plus, she was thoroughly sated. All she wanted to do was fall back into bed and take a nap. Pregnancy was more exhausting than she’d expected.

Rhys must have heard her thoughts, or perhaps it was obvious from her face. He lifted her off of him and gently set her feet on the ground. “Can I trouble you for another shower?”

She obliged, a much lighter rainfall this time. “You liked this. On your wings.”

It was a statement but he answered anyway, his voice hoarser than moments ago. “Yes. It was… I can’t describe it. Like if I were to lick every single inch of your body at once.”

She knew what that felt like: he’d done it with his power before.

“And you,” he continued, lathering soap in his hands, “Kneeling there in front of me.”

Feyre turned around so he could wash her hair; felt his erection rise again, pressing into her spine.

“I love you,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Which it did, in a way. She loved him and she wanted to please him. All the time, in every way she knew how.

He tilted her head back to rinse out the suds; then she felt his mouth on hers from above, wet and hot and sweet. His hands gently covered her breasts. “I’m so glad these are better,” he sighed.

“Me too.”

He pressed his palm against her abdomen, over the tattoo there that matched his own. “Only one rule for me to remember now.”

Feyre laughed. “I’m sure I can think of some others.”

“Such as?”

She turned and made him lean down towards her, soaping up his hair. “Anytime someone says your name, you have to correct them: they must add ‘Archeron’ to the end.”

“Okay.”

She frowned. “I was joking. I like it in theory. In private.”

“I’m not joking. I love it.” He straightened up, running his hands through his hair under the water. She stared at his muscular arms, his broad chest, covered in ink; down to his slim waist and strong thighs, his huge cock still at attention beneath his newest tattoo. Gods, if she wasn’t so tired she would have pounced on him all over again.

When she met his violet eyes, he was smirking at her.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” he said darkly.

“You are not calling yourself Rhysand Archeron.”

He stepped towards her, making her tilt her face up to keep looking at him. “I love the way you make me feel.”

“Are you listening to me?”

He held her waist, brushing his thumbs over her skin. “I love that I got you pregnant.”

“Rhys!”

“I can’t wait to see your belly grow.”

Feyre put her hand over his mouth. His eyes sparkled and she couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing.

“You are so annoying,” she said seriously, but her giggles ruined it entirely.

“I know. I just love you so much.” Then his expression changed to one of sympathy. “I don’t love that you vomited earlier though.”

She shrugged, letting him wash her body now. “I don’t mind. It means our baby is growing inside me.” She yawned, stretching her arms up, arching her back. “Don’t get any ideas,” she added, making him grin. “I am going back to bed.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Only if you let me sleep.”

Rhys kissed her as the water faded away. Then she wrapped them both in warm air, drying them in seconds. He summoned their dressing gowns, one black, one white, and used his hands to tie them snugly, first hers then his.

“I meant it, you know,” he told her softly as they settled back down beneath the covers. It was only seven thirty in the morning but the new light of spring was already seeping in around the curtains.

“I know,” she replied as he drew her into his embrace. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

“It would be an honour to carry your name. You are half of me, Feyre. The better half. And I want the whole world to know that.”

She closed her eyes, sinking into his warmth. “It was my father’s name too. My sisters’.”

“Three other heroes of our time,” he said quietly. “Definitely an honour.”

Feyre felt her breath catch in her throat. She saw her sisters often, with Cassian and Lucien. They were closer now than they’d ever been. But it still hurt to think about her father: about the dark place he’d been trapped in for so many years; about how her capture had broken him free, had led him to raise an entire fleet to save her. To save them all.

He had loved her, in his own way. But it was nothing like the way she and Rhys would love their child. Nothing.

“I’ll think about it,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Just as she started to feel herself drift off to sleep, Rhys’s palm found her belly again. “Baby Archeron,” he said thoughtfully against her hair, testing out the words.

And then she was swallowing her tears and wondering what she ever did to deserve this mate, this joy, this life.

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TBC

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