#but the way that its written makes it feel like its dragging on

[prime-adeptus]

The Hand That Feeds

“If being with me only brings you pain, then just put up with this for three more days.” Or, the stages you go through during those three days.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | spoilers for Caleb's story | angst, brief manipulation, drugging is briefly mentioned, implied toxic behaviour (per canon), medical issues (source: i made it up), mental instability, mentions of blood and violence, mentions of suicide and self-sabotage, splitting (reader has BPD), unreliable narrator. | ~6,8k words

A/N.⠀sooooooooo I've been playing Love and Deepspace..... the brainrot got so bad I've written over five thousand words in two days. this is a bit more of an exploration on the emotional/psychological end, so I'm sorry about the lack of romance!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

1. DENIAL

Caleb never breaks his promises.

It’s been that way since you were little kids. In thunderstorms, he promised to keep you safe, and he did. On gloomy days, he promised to be your light, and he did. In the rain, he promised to shield you, and he did. He never lies. He always picks up the phone. He never misses any important dates. He always catches you and never lets you fall. That was the Caleb you knew years ago.

Now, he’s much more different than the scrappy young boy with missing teeth and plasters on his skin that he used to be. This Caleb is tall, imposing, domineering. His uniform puts emphasis on his coldness. He is the embodiment of power, but just like he promised you when you were ten, he’d use his power to protect you. You’d trust him with your life, because deep down, you know that he won’t make you regret it.

You’re more than capable of protecting yourself. Years of training at the academy and another handful of years as a hunter has shaped you to be your own defence. Calluses and scars litter your skin, painting them with texture and molding you into a unique sculpture. With each year that passes, you grow out of the same scared little girl you used to be, but you can never get rid of fear completely. Loud noises still send you jumping out of your skin. You still fear death no matter how familiar it’s become. You worry about growing old and fading out of existence, leaving behind vulnerable people who’ll lose you for good.

The past years have not been kind. Fate has put you in all sorts of situations to test your might and willpower, forcing you to be the fearless woman you were meant to be. You’ve passed turbulent times, cried alone as your mind tells you you’re going insane. You’ve stayed at home for days, hiding away from the rest of the world as you contemplate your self-worth and utility. It drains you, bleeds you dry, but for you, there is no time to rest. Life goes on. You must always keep moving no matter how wounded you become.

With Caleb, it doesn’t feel like it has to be that way.

He’s always taken care of you very well, making sure you get enough rest and remember to eat no matter how stressed you become, but things aren’t the same. You’ve grown and so has he. And yet, he’s still the very same boy you grew up with—one who cares for you, one who loves you for you, and one who’ll always have your back. You’re not familiar with giving yourself a break, having been living in a routine of discipline for over a decade of your life, but you find that it’s a nice change. It’s the instrumental break of a song, it’s the beach on a sunny day. It’s gentle breezes caressing your skin and it’s layers of padlocks broken, letting you out of the cage you’ve built for yourself.

For once, you can let yourself relax and be taken care of the way you’ve always been. But as the storm rages on, it all comes crashing down, and you find yourself falling apart.

The anxiety that had come with your initial arrival at Skyhaven never left. It simmers at the pit of your stomach, creeps into your veins and wraps its tendrils around you, dragging you into a cold abyss of apprehension and fear. Being away from Linkon City isn’t doing you any favours. You don’t know anyone here aside from Caleb. There isn’t a place to go or people to talk to. The likelihood of you being in danger is low, but it’s not impossible, and the storm outside does nothing to help your current state. The power has gone out, leaving you in a wide, dark and empty complex where the only illumination comes from the lights on the skyline. 

The recent events are still heavy on your mind, too. Of him tending to the gash on your leg, of him restraining you with his Evol. You don’t think you’ve been that scared since that day in the interrogation room. You remember it vividly: the dimness of that room, the collar he’d placed upon your neck, or the tension in the air while you struggled to get yourself back to reality. It felt like you were in a dream. But then the lights came on and he spoke, and he was no longer the Farspace Fleet Colonel—he was your Caleb.

Your nails have become brittle from how much you’ve been biting on them. You’ve been pacing around the place, trying to call him time and time again only to get no response. With a frustrated sob, you toss your phone onto the sofa and collapse to your knees, tears streaming down your face in rivulets. As much as you’d like to believe that you aren’t afraid of thunder anymore, tonight proves it all wrong.

All you can hear is the downpour outside. It muffles the sound of the clock ticking, yet it doesn’t tune out the worried voices in your head. It’s nearing midnight—way past your bedtime—but you can’t sleep, not even with the potential ambience of the rain. Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. Though Caleb usually comes home while you’re asleep, being wide awake now also means you’re too aware—aware that he isn’t home, aware that he’s in danger, aware that he might not ever come home at all. Your phone is nearly dead and the candles have long since gone out. You’re trembling both from fear and frost, his sweater loosely hanging on your frame.

The words ‘lockdown’ and ‘cleanup’ grow more and more distant as the irrational thoughts strengthen in numbers. They say he’s doing this on purpose, that he’s abandoning you for good because of you, that he’s keeping so many things hidden from you because he wants you out of his life. You want to believe they aren’t true, you really do, but your fragility makes you waver in every decision. The urge for violence grows but you do your best to keep yourself grounded, rocking yourself back and forth as your body is wracked by sobs. It’s easier said than done. You don’t know how you can stay afloat when you feel so alone.

Cruel. He’s cruel for leaving you alone for this long. He’s cruel for not responding to you. If he truly cared for you, he wouldn’t make you feel this way. Fear blends into anger as your hands twitch and quiver while you heavily breathe in and out as an attempt to calm down. He promised you this morning that he’ll come home. You just need to trust him. But you’re so scared of everything, feeling like the world is caving in around you as you fall deeper and deeper into the void. The dark makes you feel isolated, suffocated. Briefly, you think of how no one will hear you if you scream in this weather. Not even he can save you. Maybe that’ll be the first and last time he breaks his promise.

You shake your head. You know better than to trust your emotions when the sky gets dark. This will pass, it always does, and Caleb would want you to be strong. With newfound determination, you harshly wipe away your tears with the back of your hand and get up. Your legs slightly wobble from the ache in your knees, but you keep upright. As if sensing your predicament, the rain outside slows down and becomes quieter with each second. The thunder has stopped roaring and the downpour slows to a light shower, its droplets hitting the clear glass of the window panes.

Then, the front door opens. A scream threatens to escape your throat. The emergency lights in the hallway outside show a male silhouette at the door, and when you realise who it is, the grave weight on your shoulders is lifted. Relieved, you run into him, making him stumble for a moment before supporting you more steadily. You wrap your arms around his neck and cry, quiet whines leaving you. He pulls you close and rubs soothing circles on your back before murmuring a quiet I’m home into your ear.

How could you doubt him like that? Caleb is kind. He’s the best thing to ever happen to you. He never breaks his promises. Whatever anger you harboured for him earlier dissipates into the air just like fog. Still shaken from the blackout and his radio silence, you grab him tightly, the fabric of his coat bunching up in your unrelenting grip. You don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. You were doing perfectly fine before the storm. You’re mentally berating yourself for letting him see you in such a pathetic state, but you’re too drained and it’s too late to try to hide.

(You’ve never been able to do that with him.)

“I thought you left me,” you whimper, “I—I don’t feel good. I don’t know. I was scared.”

You cling to him like a child. You feel like one, with how weak and emotional and volatile you feel. The sobs slow down into sniffles as he carries you over to your bedroom before taking a seat on the bed and placing you on his lap. His gloved hands comfortingly caress you wherever they can. Guilt sinks into his bones, pulling him deeper than his gravity ever could. The explosion had been out of his control, so had his death, but he can’t ever forgive himself for making you feel like you’d been left behind.

An ugly emotion rears its head, holds him in its jaws. He wraps his arms around you possessively, allowing you to calm down at your pace. You let out a heavy sigh and fall into him, feeling boneless after the meltdown you were in earlier. There are many things you want to say, but none ever slip your tongue. Instead, you let him hold you, let him press soft kisses to your hair, enveloping you in the warmth you had been craving.

“I told you I’d always be by your side,” he finally speaks up after a moment of silence, squeezing your flesh warmly. “I promised you that, remember?”

You don’t make a sound. You shift closer to him, desperate to be closer, close enough to feel like you’ve fused into one. He doesn’t force you to speak. You look up at him, tear-stained cheeks glimmering under the moonlight, helpless and afraid yet so loving and elated. He shushes you softly, lulling you into a relaxed state as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs before cupping the side of your face affectionately. 

I’ll always be by your side.

How silly and humiliating of you to have been vulnerable like that. Caleb would never lie to you. He’s right, he always is, and you need to learn to fully trust him again. He never breaks his promises. He won’t start now.

2. ANGER

It started with an excruciating pain in your heart.

Then, it continued with pins and needles striking your limbs, making them feel boneless. Your view blurred and darkened at the sides as static took over your vision, showing you mirrors and streaks of light. Your throat closed up and you clutched at it helplessly, jaw dropping open as you tried to breathe. The world spun and suddenly you collapsed on the ground, motionless and afraid. Waves of panic crashed into you, drenching you in trepidation while your thoughts ran rampant, stacking on top of each other like voices in a crowd.

You hardly registered the muffled shouts and your body being moved as you fell limp. Your head was spinning and you felt like you were falling into coldness—into death—but when you woke up, you found yourself in the medical bay of the Fleet’s aircraft. 

The pain in your heart had subsided enough. It still ached and burned, but clarity had returned to your eyes and your limbs no longer felt numb. Your eyelids fluttered open, revealing the fluorescent lights in the ceiling, and it was only then that you heard muted conversations, presumably from those who were taking care of you. You tried to push yourself up, only to be pulled back by something. When you looked down, you found all sorts of cables attached to you and an EKG monitor on your side. Your heart rate was fast and your blood pressure was high. Caleb had come into the medical bay not long after that.

After dismissing the nurses, he’d taken you to his home and decided he’d take care of you himself. Though you weren’t keen on essentially being on house arrest, there was no point in arguing with him. Even if you doubted him sometimes, you knew in your heart that he would never lead you astray. But the way he’s been treating you like a child irks and suffocates you, making you feel like you’re locked in a cramped room.

He talks to you softly and treats you like you’re fragile. You’re several years into your career as a hunter. You’re well in your twenties and more than capable of taking care of yourself or tending to your wounds. As much as you appreciate his concern, it’s starting to feel suffocating. Maybe years of depending on him have made him think you’re useless. He won’t trust you, but he still holds many secrets of his own.

The only conclusion you come to is that he’s hiding something from you, or he’s hiding you.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing does. How can someone so familiar feel so distant at the same time? You can’t understand his logic or tell what he’s thinking. He always has an explanation for everything, and yet, they never satisfy you at all. The weariness in your system coupled with days of being under quarantine is taking a toll on you. He’d insisted persistently that you stay put while he takes care of everything. It’s not as if it’s his fault, either. No matter how much you want to get back to work—thinking about the backlog you’re going to have to catch up to puts insurmountable anxiety upon your shoulders—you can’t, because your body isn’t cooperating.

It’s not a fever. It’s not a cold. But somehow, you always feel so out of it. It doesn’t even feel like you’re piloting yourself anymore. Suspicion rises in the back of your mind as you think of the medication you’ve been taking every morning. He never told you what they are. What if he’s—

No. He wouldn’t. Caleb isn’t like that.

But what if? You don’t understand him. You don’t know him anymore. Why is he hellbent on keeping you locked up here when you’re already capable of handling things on your own? Burying your face in your hands, you let out a scream of exasperation, feeling as though you’re losing your mind. Why won’t he listen to you? Do you mean anything to him at all?

The door knob twists. You swiftly relax your furrowed brows and turn to him with a small smile as he enters your room. The sun is barely rising, but he already looks wide awake. You can’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously at the small cup of pills that he’s holding.

The question slips past your tongue before you realise it. “What have you been giving me?”

Caleb stops in his tracks, brows raised in surprise. Something flickers in his eyes, but the calm expression remains on his features. He moves closer and places what he’s holding on the table, only to pause in his movements again.

“You didn’t finish dinner?”

“Caleb. What have you been giving me?” you ask again, your hands beginning to tremble. Your thoughts are running rapidly, alarms of urgency ringing in your head and adding on to your anxiety. You need answers. You need to know everything.

He takes a seat on the stool next to your bed with a sigh. “I’m hurt you don’t trust me, pipsqueak.”

“Then what’s wrong with me?” You clench your fists, knuckles turning white from the pressure you’re exerting. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“You had a protocore-induced heart attack. Your body is still recovering,” he replies easily. You can’t tell if he’s lying or telling the truth. “And Skyhaven’s still under lockdown. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“Do you think of me that lowly?” Aggravation drips off of your tone as your voice starts to waver, a familiar sting spreading behind your nose and tears springing up to your eyes. “Do you think I’m still a little kid?”

“It’s not that. I’m just worried about you.”

Your voice rises in volume. It’s getting harder to keep your anger in control. 

“If Skyhaven’s so dangerous, why won’t you let me go back?”

“Because you can’t. No one goes in or goes out during this lockdown. I’m sorry,” he says. It’s quick and meant to shoot you down. You want to scream, to break something, anything, but you can’t. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I’m protecting you.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, irritated at his responses. There’s no point in arguing with him, you realise. Caleb’s stubbornness knows no bounds at times. You take your hand back and look away with an indignant huff. You know you’re acting like a child. Grandma would be disappointed if she saw your state now. But you’re frustrated, you’re anxious, you’re alone and you just want to go home—

“Leave. I don’t wanna see you,” you spit, stubbornly staring at the window. Then, an unknown fear seeps into your veins, causing you to soften just the slightest. “I don’t want us to fight, Caleb.”

“We’re not fighting.” He crouches down in front of you and takes your hand into his before giving it a warm squeeze. “But you have to try and understand me.”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to see his face, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want anything to do with him. Ignoring him, you get up the chair and return to your room, closing the door behind you with a loud slam. The sound makes you flinch. Unwanted memories slowly fade into the reel of your mind. Aggravated, you lock the door and sit down, pulling your knees close to your chest as your jaw clenches.

You don’t know what you want. A part of you wants him to come in and apologise, to let you do what you want. Another part of you wants him to just leave you alone. But when there’s only silence, you find yourself breaking into sobs again, feeling like you’ve been abandoned. He’s mad at you. He’s going to make you leave and say that he’s just giving you what you wanted. Guilt creeps into your heart as the realisation that you’re doubting him dawns on you. He’s been so kind to you since the little stunt you pulled to get yourself here. He’s letting you walk freely. He’s letting you stay in his home. 

But he’s not listening to you, he’s ignoring you, and it makes you feel as though you’re just a speck of dust in his eyes. Your emotions rage as a tempest in your mind that destroys everything in its wake. A scream of exasperation leaves your lips as you hold your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath. 

I’ll always be by your side.

What a liar. 

3. BARGAINING

It feels as though the sands of time are allowing the particles to fall one at a time into the bottom of the hourglass.

Time is moving slowly, almost as if it’s stuck in place, and hearing the sound of the clock ticking every time you’re ‘home’ is starting to drive you mad. It’s hard not to zero in on Caleb when he is all you have here. You’ve contemplated sending Tara and Zayne some messages to let them know that you’re fine, just staying with a friend. For some odd reason, the messages never get delivered. Assuming your phone’s just broken, you haven’t picked it up since. As a result, there’s not much to do in your free time outside of chores or breaking down, and it’s tearing you apart.

Maybe he’ll rethink his choices if you get hurt on purpose, you think with a bitter grimace. It’s hard to believe that his consideration for you, something you used to adore, now felt like chains holding you down. He might as well have left the collar on your neck. Anger, betrayal, guilt, and shame. Your mind has become a tempest of despondence and pessimism destroying every rational thought in its path. You want to scream and punch the wall. You want to hurt something. You need to destroy something. Your self-control is hanging by a thread and the stubbornness is beginning to feel childish, silly. 

Regrettably, Caleb is right. The Farspace Fleet is still working on cleanup amid this lockdown, not allowing anyone to go in or out. Leaving Skyhaven isn’t an option anymore. You don’t know what you feel anymore, either. You’re stuck here with a curfew whether you like it or not, and your unfamiliarity with the place leaves you at a severe disadvantage. Though you’re not exactly a drinker, your mind wanders to how you’d feel if you were too drunk to think of anything. You don’t care. You don’t know what you want anymore.

Some days, you feel angry at him and think he’s the devil. Some days, you appreciate him and think he’s a gift sent by the heavens. The lack of a middle ground constantly leaves you teetering on the verge of falling on either end. But now—now you feel nothing at all. You’re numb, indifferent, and it perplexes you because you still feel so bad. You think you’re a walking contradiction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Caleb has dealt with you for years without a single word of complaint. You’re taking him for granted, says the voice in your head. You need to keep him.

You harshly slap yourself on the face to snap out of it, bringing yourself back to the present.

The skyline glimmers in the distance. Red and white lights speed by on the road and the billboards are as lively as ever. Nightlife enjoyers are undoubtedly in good spirits as they travel from bar to bar. Tara must still be awake watching her favourite show, and Zayne is surely still working late at the hospital. You want to hear their voices and be in their presence even if it’s just for a few minutes. There’s a weight pulling at your heart as your mind wanders to Linkon City. To your real home.

The walls of what you thought was a gorgeous home is starting to remind you of the interrogation room you were in. It feels drab, lifeless. There isn’t much evidence within the home itself that there are people living here in the first place. The little OTTO robot he built for you stays in the corner, lifeless as well. You absentmindedly tap your fingers against the surface of the couch as you stare into the glow of the television. Even the commercials that are meant to be fun and exciting feel fake. The programme continues, returning to the scheduled film of the night. 

It’s late at night and you can’t sleep. You’re up later than you’d usually be. Caleb isn’t home yet, rendering you beyond aware of the fact that you’re home alone, and anxiety lurks around you at every corner. Your pistols rest on the spot beside you as a precaution. With what has been transpiring since you stepped foot in Skyhaven, anything is possible. It’s strange how paranoid you’ve become over the past couple of days. You should feel safe here, you should feel safe with him being the Colonel himself, but you don’t.

“—concerned about you. He said he thinks you might try to kill yourself.”

Your gaze drifts over to the pistols. An image of your blood pooling beneath your head as you lie limp on the ground flashes before your eyes. You imagine how he’d react to your death. Will he care? Will it devastate him? Will he regret how he’s been treating you? Strangely enough, the gruesome thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to when you were younger. Violence comes with your job as a hunter, even if it’s not inflicted upon humans. Death is no stranger. It’s more familiar than you’d like it to be. You’ve been lured by it a couple of times in your childhood, seen mangled bodies and frozen corpses in your lifetime. 

You’ve gone from craving death to being afraid of it, and yet here you are, contemplating it just like you did when you were fifteen.

Tara used to tell you not to believe your thoughts when it’s dark. You desperately want to, but it feels as though your brain won’t allow it. You’re tired and lonely. You miss home. You grieve for a man that is still alive. A long time has passed—people are constantly changing. He’s not the same man you were eating dinner with at Gran’s house. This is a man who has been through death himself, weighed down by his never-ending burdens and responsibilities, and you sink deeper into your guilt as you realise how unreasonable you’ve been.

You try to separate every thought again. Caleb is protective of you because he’s known you for most of his life and you’re the closest person to him. He put you under strict supervision because he’s worried you’ll be in danger without him to protect you. He treated you like a child, making you feel as though he doesn’t trust you. Your outburst halted everything and is slowly destroying your relationship inside and out. It all feels so monumental, so much bigger than you can handle, and you can’t help but feel defeated.

You have two options: continue this game of who can make the silent treatment last longer, or apologise to him and gain his forgiveness. It eats away at you either way. With apologising, you don’t even know where to begin; he’s never been mad at you nor has he ever raised his voice at you. He always tells you that everything is going to be okay, even if it doesn’t feel like it.

It’ll pass, is what he would say to you. And I’ll be here with you.

But when you have already destroyed everything with your bare hands, who will be there to rebuild it with you?

You haven’t prayed to a god in years. Prayers and rituals don’t work on you, you think, and so it’s not worth the time or effort. But as your eyes slowly close, you pray to whatever celestial being listens to you—give him back. You’ll never do it again.

4. DEPRESSION

Another day of silence passes and plunges you further into the pool of fear and helplessness.

Caleb hasn’t spoken a word to you. Not once. He still prepares your meals, leaves you notes, but he doesn’t utter a single word. You grow more restless by the minute. He’s angry with you. He’s just too nice to tell you upfront. Anxiety makes you avoid him, afraid of what he’ll do or how he’ll react. He doesn’t stop you from going out anymore, either. You’ve been spending your time outside his home, distracting yourself with whatever activity you can find on the streets. For the first few hours, the newfound freedom made you feel on top of the world, but it didn’t last.

Him stepping back should make you feel happy and relieved. Instead, the claws of despair pull you in closer and closer to its maw. You return home after a day out to complete silence. The floorboards would creak beneath your feet, waiting for someone to break the stillness, only for there to be nothing. When you wake up in the morning, Caleb leaves behind nothing but the remnants of his cologne in the air, small proof that he was home. The smell used to comfort you. Now, it makes you feel lonelier, because it’s not enough.

It feels like you’re losing him in real time. You’ve retreated so far into the corner that you’re fading into the background as the world continues on without you. You see him walking farther and farther away from you, disappearing into the crowd as he leaves you standing in the midst of it all. The thought of him leaving your life gnaws at you, puts you into a spiral of loneliness. You wanted this, didn’t you? For him to leave you alone?

Then why do you feel like you’ve been abandoned?

The stark reminder of his absence claws at your heart. You barely see him at home and it feels like you’re lost at sea, drifting away from the shore with each wave that the ocean carries. Getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. Your limbs feel heavy as if you’re being held back by a ball and chain. And you’re exhausted, even with the hours upon hours of sleeping and locking yourself away in your room, too tired to live. A part of you tells you you’re overreacting. You don’t even remember what had upset you in the first place, but you know one thing—

You don’t want him to go.

Being an adult comes with doing things you don’t want to do or are too afraid to do. This is just one of them. You’ll apologise to him with low expectations so you don’t break your heart, but you’ll fall into euphoria if he forgives you. He’s looking out for you. It’s not his fault. 

It’s yours.

You remember times in your childhood when he’d come get you after school with your favourite popsicle split in half, one for you and one for him. He’d ask about your day and his eyes twinkled with genuine interest as he listened to you go on and on about every detail that happened. The walk back home was always filled with joy. He feels like a distant memory, an echo of the past, and you wonder if he’s the one who changed or if it’s you.

Whoever it is, what was an unbreakable bond had shattered to pieces, and it was all by your own hand.

Self-hatred burns through you. You wish you were different. You wish you weren’t the way you are, so flawed and broken beyond repair. You wish you were like other women, those who are always on top of their game and strong no matter what life throws at them. Without realising it, you’ve already given up on yourself. You’re no longer loved by him; you’re an enemy, a monster, and the thought plagues your being.

The feeling of unworthiness lingers in your chest, a constant ache that wears down the edges of every thought. You remember the person you used to be with him before the explosion. Optimistic, hard-working, hopeful. She feels like a stranger now, like someone you used to know who left your life without saying anything. The weight of it all—the distance, the guilt, the silence—is becoming unbearable. He is slipping out of your grasp, ready to leave you as a memory of the past, and you’re falling further back. He is swimming to the surface while you are sinking deeper into vast nothingness, surrounded by the unknown. 

You wonder what he feels when he looks back at you. Is it pity, or is it resentment?

Or does he hardly feel anything at all?

The door opens, stopping your train of thought. You stagger up to your feet, quietly making your way to the entrance with your hands folded in front of you. Caleb’s eyes meet yours and you falter for a moment, every word you’ve rehearsed in your head going forgotten as time seems to be at a standstill. You muster up a smile, doing a little wave at him.

“Welcome home,” you say, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He returns with a smile of his own. “Thanks.”

You want to say something, anything, but no words come out; you don’t know where to begin with them. Instead, you stand there and smile awkwardly, completely lost and insecure. Your smile feels fake. You know he knows it is. It’s a façade you’re using to hide the turbulence within you. Caleb’s smile is polite and you want to run into his arms and tell him everything you’ve been feeling. Your heart drops when he looks away from you, ready to leave to attend to his own affairs.

“I’ll just, um, go,” you chuckle nervously. “Sorry, you must be busy. I’ll see you around.” 

Reluctantly, you withdraw and return to your room, shutting the door with a quiet click. Drained, you fall to the ground and bury your face in your hands, frustration oozing off of you in waves. Was that a good sign? Or was he faking his friendliness just to get you off his back? He doesn’t seem angry, but you’ve also never seen him angry. Anxiety harrows you as you stare at the ground, mind racing with what feels like thousands of possibilities. You wish he was easier to read. How can you know someone for so long but know nothing about them at all?

You ball your hands into fists and tremble, tears streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You’re falling behind. He’s already on the path to moving on but you’re still stuck in your spot, hopelessly wishing he’d turn back and ask if you want to try again. This fight—the one with him, the one with yourself—feels daunting. You’re but a frail little thing facing off with something grand and monumental. It towers over you, cloaks you in its shadow, emphasising the fact that you are nothing compared to it.

The world is quiet, and as you sit gazing upon your opponent, you start to wonder if this fight was even yours to win at all.

5. ACCEPTANCE

Before you know it, it’s the night before the promised third day.

You were lucky enough to be able to have breakfast with Caleb this morning. It felt tense and awkward, but he still maintained the conversation so effortlessly as if your outburst never happened at all. He left for work with a simple kind smile and told you to stay safe if you do go out. Even while you’re being unreasonable, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum is lasting this long humiliates you to no end.

You spent the day out at the shopping district. The city was vibrant with the hustle and bustle in its streets and pedestrians. You heard laughter and chatter, joy that was spreading among people and their friends, and you’d never felt more alone. Even in a place swimming with people, you still felt so isolated like you were just a speck of dust. Eventually, your surroundings became white noise, and time went by like a blur. It felt as if someone else was taking control over your body. You numbly went through each stall searching for souvenirs to bring back to your loved ones back in Linkon City, spending away without hesitation. 

When the sun began its descent, you made your way back with several bags of new items in hand. You’d gone over budget, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For a moment, you were completely fine, free from the crushing weight of the world on your shoulders. Returning to Caleb’s place took away the momentary lightheartedness and replaced it with something devastatingly hollow. You moved on autopilot, stepping into the shower and taking off your makeup, changing into more comfortable clothes. 

When you were done, you sat in the living room and watched whatever was playing on the television, its audio turning into background noise as you drifted away with your musings. Before you knew it, it was dark outside, and Caleb was back home. You parted your lips to say welcome back, but he had entered his room before you could call for him. Awkwardly, you returned to the television and fidgeted with your hands, nervousness entering your system the longer he was gone.

It seems to be a peaceful time for Skyhaven tonight. The media representative of the Farspace Fleet had come out to answer whatever rapid fire question the journalists had. Reassuring every citizen, he had said that the cleanup they’ve been doing is gradually wrapping up, and that the lockdown would be lifted soon. With nothing else to worry about for the time being, officers were allowed to return home early, including the Colonel himself. 

Caleb reappears in his loungewear and stops to look at you, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows. “I’ll make dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It doesn’t take long before he returns to the living room again, heading for the other end of the couch. Not wanting to disturb him, you leave him to his devices and stare ahead into the television, holding yourself back from looking at him repeatedly. It’s unusual for him to be home early, so you’re equally lost, completely clueless on how to function.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s reading a book, his brows furrowed in concentration as he immerses himself in creativity. He looks peaceful, so undisturbed, and you’re still not sure what to do. Even when you’ve been a brat, he still has your best interests at heart, and the fact that your tantrum has lasted for days humiliates you to no end. His consideration of you nearly brings tears to your eyes but you keep yourself together, not wanting to worry him.

You part your lips to speak only to close them again, frantically trying to come up with a coherent sentence in your head. He looks relaxed, so the chances of him reacting aggressively are low. You know he’d never raise his voice at you, but the paranoia hasn’t left you yet; everything you do needs a safety plan. Biting down on your bottom lip, you stare down at your hands before standing up, nervously wringing your hands behind your back.

Mustering up all the courage you have, you speak up, meekly, “I’m sorry.”

He looks up from his book, brows raised as he watches you in what appears to be confusion. You want to run away and hide, but he deserves this. It’s the least you can do.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry for lashing out. For acting up. It’s just… I’m just…”

He smiles softly, getting up from the couch and walking towards you. Bringing you close for a hug, he presses a soft kiss to your temple and squeezes your frame reassuringly. You melt into his touch, a burning sensation spreading in the centre of your face as your bottom lip quivers. You whine and hide your face in his sweater, desperately holding on to him as if he could disappear at any moment. You’ve already lost him once. You won’t lose him again.

You can’t.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice trembles as you speak and sniffle in between words. You grab onto the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to keep yourself grounded. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again—”

He sighs, content, and pulls you closer to him, letting you cry in his arms. His hand rubs soothing circles on your back as he hums a comforting tune, the same one he used to when you had nightmares as a kid.

“Silly girl,” he says, rocking you side to side. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

No one else will ever do it like him. He’s kind. He cares for you. He stays with you even with your volatility and your flaws. The resentment you’d been harbouring towards him douses you in guilt as you latch on to him, basking in his comfort. He’s only doing this because he cares. The disaster in your mind slowly unwinds and the grating voices that had been plaguing you the past week quiets down. 

He gently pulls away and brings his hands up to your cheeks before brushing away your tears with his thumbs, lulling you into a calmer state.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “I promise.”

Finally, you trust him, because he never makes promises he can’t keep.

[call-sign-shark]

Heyaaah Reb. Shark's back again. My apologies for the messy comment but my mind is screaming because of this chapter and typing on an old keyboard with my long nails is a pain in the ass.

What a rollercoaster of emotions it was. It was such a satisfying read as they finally stop fighting against that irresistible pull they experience. First of all I thought it was adorable that Nina loved baking and thst it was her first way to keep her mind busy. As soon as Tommy joined her, I looked forward their heartfelt conversation but gosh I wasn't ready. I didn't expect her to open up entirely to him but it felt so freaking good. My poor love, she must have felt suffocating her own damn life. The line “This pain that you have,” he whispered, “share it with me" had me melting. I'm sucker for this kind of hurt/comfort trope. I don't know how he does that but he always find the right word to say to reassure her. This is directly linked with this line "She didn’t know how else to explain it except to say that they seemed to understand each other." its exactly what I was trying to say, they understand each other on a diffrent level and I can't imagine how relieving it shoud be for Nina, who has been misunderstood all her life. To the extent she thought she was the problem, the abnormal one.

And I found out Stefano and his brother had a habit of dragging girls into their car. I didn’t know what it was that they did to them, back then. But it was scary. I stole my brother’s pocket knife, just in case, and always took it with me.” -> GOSH SOMEONE KILLS STEFANO PLEASE. He's a monster.

“He asked me if I had, perhaps, done something to… encourage that behaviour. To make him believe that I wanted that kind of attention.” -> I know it was a common thought and still is but brooooooooo it got me angry (and sad for Nina who's got blamed)

Then, I must say that I particularly adore how you describe the longing Tom has for Nina. I'm reallz fond of of those scene in a fic where we get to see the other character's pov and how he's getting intoxicated by the MC. You did an excellent job at conveying how he's now walking on thin ice.

And last but not least.... THIS IS THE MOST ROMANTIC AND HEARTWARMING SMUT I?VE NEVER READ. Tommy taking her virginity so carefully and always asking for her permission had me screaming. He's so considerate I could feel how much he cares for her as the words aligned. Nina's reaction also astounded me: this is so raw, so realistic for a first time. Whether it is the fact the first finger he inserts in her feels midly uncomfortable or the pain of being penetrated for the first time. Her little thoughts like "it couldn't possibly fit' made me giggle but they were also so realistic. I really loved it. This was really an intense and passionate sex scene -- and also so important for Nina. A threshold has been crossed and these two are going to be inseparable <3

"that was what Nina had been warned about all her life. That was the sin she had been taught she should avoid at all costs, the sin that would bring shame and ignominy upon her and all her family." -> I think this was one of my favorite liens of this chapter. The word are so simple but heavy with meaning and importance. It echoes to Nina's deepest core, here fears and education. It also felt so true to the thought of a girl discovering the joy of se in a first love/safe context. Gosh I just wanted to pat her shoulder and smile at her proudly.

Also can we talk about Tommy cleaning her afterwards? What a gentleman.

I loved it Reb, so happy to get back to one of my favorite work ever written.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

CHAPTER 9

Summary: Tommy learns something more about Nina as she opens up to him about her past. Unable to ignore the feelings they have for each other any longer, they reach a point of no return.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, harassment, violence, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2. This chapter is 18+, smut (it’s a spoiler but I need to say it). This is my first attempt ever at smut cause it isn’t my cup of tea, so it might not be that good. Also I didn’t want it to be just porn but I wanted it to be ✨functional✨ to the story and tell something, so I hope I did that.

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Nina muttered a few curses under her breath as her elbow accidentally hit the bottle of milk standing on the table, spilling its content everywhere. She hastily grabbed some rugs, trying her best to contain the damage. Maybe deciding to bake so late at night hadn’t been her best idea. But she needed to keep herself busy or she would’ve lost her mind, because apparently sleeping was no longer an option for her.

She couldn’t sleep without having nightmares anymore, and all of them involved the same person. Stefano. Sometimes he had her pressed into the wall again, and no matter how hard she screamed, no one would come save her. Sometimes he was standing in her father’s study, arranging their marriage as if she weren’t there. Sometimes he was waiting for her at the end of the aisle, with a grin on his face and a glimpse of victory in his eyes. And every time she woke up feeling his weight on her again, and his breath on her face, and his hands up her legs. She told herself she was being dramatic, that she should’ve been glad nothing had actually happened and forget about it, but the feeling of disgust that had been pervading her since that fateful morning just wouldn’t go away.

What her father had said during the lunch had been the last straw. All that talk about leaving her free to make her own choice was nothing more than empty words, a way of keeping her sweet until he managed to persuade her. And she was scared, because she knew that if he made that decision for her, she wouldn’t have a say in the matter. Because the alternative would’ve been a break with the Spinietta family, and that was something they couldn’t afford.

She missed her nightly talks with Tommy. For almost a month, he had managed to take her mind off all the ugly things that were happening in her life. Talking came easy with him. She didn’t know how else to explain it except to say that they seemed to understand each other. It was surprising, to say the least. Sure, there were parts of him that stayed a mystery to her, and parts of her that she still couldn’t let show, but they felt more like something to discover rather than an obstacle. Still, that meant nothing. Those parts were not hers to discover, and he wasn’t supposed to get any closer to her than he had already done. So they had pushed each other away, and reduced their interactions to the bare minimum. But that didn’t make it any easier. She missed him, despite her attempts to keep him out of her head, and now that they didn’t talk anymore it was as if she was on her own again, trapped into a world that spoke a whole different language.

However, Nina wasn’t the only one who felt the weight of that distance. She was the one person who had made Tommy’s stay in Italy somewhat bearable, and her detachment had left him feeling… hollow.

It had also brought him back to the reality of his situation, though. There was a war going on on more than one side, and he needed to do what was necessary for him and his family. He was walking on a thin line that became more precarious the more he waited. He had two days left to propose, or else the deal would be off, and God knew what would happen then. The most absurd part of it all was that what rationally should’ve been his major concern was overshadowed by something else entirely. He was scared of what would happen to Nina once he’d be back in Birmingham with Agnese on his arm. He didn’t know what was exactly going on with Spinietta, but if there was one thing he had learned, it was that when a man there decided he wanted something, he’d take it, one way or another.

If he could’ve been sure it wouldn’t have started yet another war, Tommy would’ve taken his eyes days ago. And when It didn’t matter how much he told himself that it was the injustice that made him furious, deep down he was aware it wasn’t true. The truth was he cared about Nina. He cared about her in a way he wasn’t supposed to. He had no idea how it had happened, but she had managed to make her way into his heart with steps so light he didn’t even realise it until it was too late. And now thoughts of her filled his mind night and day.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel like that about someone again, after Grace. Grace had been the first person he had opened up to in a long time, he had allowed her to see those parts of himself he never let show, and he had realised there was still a small light inside of him, a sparkle that had survived the storm brought by the war. And he had thought that maybe there was still hope for him. When she betrayed him, the darkness engulfed him again, and any shred of hope he had left faded into dust. But just like a match, Nina had made that sparkle burst into a flame, showing him that it had never been extinguished in the first place. It overwhelmed him how much he wanted her. He could feel her in his bones, in his veins.

It would’ve been a lie to say that the thought of talking to her father hadn’t crossed his mind. But Nina was not something he could take for himself. He couldn’t rob her of her freedom. Even he wasn’t that bad. He could only be content with the little time he had with her, and carry it with him when everything would be over. Maybe that was the reason why he walked out of his room that night, in the hope that she’d be in the kitchen, making herself her terrible tea.

And there she was, except that - much to Tommy’s confusion- she wasn’t making tea. She was surrounded by bowls and pans, and there was flour spilled all over the table. Apparently unaware that she was no longer alone, she kept on stirring the batter with a whisk, with an aggressiveness that gave away her inner turmoil.

“What are you doing?” He caught her attention, earning himself a brief glance before she shifted her eyes back on her work.

“Baking,” she replied, her imperturbable expression clashing with her snappish motions.

Tommy frowned, walking further into the room. “It’s three in the morning, Nina.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Nina’s statement made him cock an eyebrow in disbelief. It didn’t take a genius to guess that she wasn’t baking in the middle of the night because she craved some sweet treat, and her short answers and dismissive behaviour were all Tommy needed to understand that there was, in fact, something going on in that mind of hers.

Slowly, as one would do with a wounded animal, he approached her, and he could’ve sworn her breath had hitched in her throat. “Are you alright?” He asked, coming to a stop next to her.

Her movements ceased, and her hand clenched around the whisk before she let it go. She swallowed, keeping her gaze on the table, and Tommy wondered whether that reaction was due to the question or their proximity.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She recollected herself, sending him a sideward look.

Tommy knew better than to push her. Insisting would only cause her to shut down even more, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he pretended to believe her, and took a seat at the table without another word.

Silence fell in the room as Nina resumed mixing the ingredients, and a new feeling began to rise up inside her. It had been a while since they had spent some time alone, and she had started to surrender to the fact that it would never happen again. Yet, there they were. She would’ve liked to say that it was as if they had never been apart, but in truth it was different, now that she wasn’t lying to herself anymore. With the acknowledgment of her feelings, came the awareness that whatever was going on between them wasn’t destined to last, that the end was near, and that every moment they spent together could’ve been the last. And it didn’t feel right.

She had never felt that way about anyone. She didn’t even know she could be capable of it until she met him. He had made her question everything, even herself, and she despised him for it. She despised him for making all her certainties crumble, for taking everything she had ever known and turning it into an undefined mass of doubts, for making her feel things she was sure she could never feel for anyone else.

Nina could feel Tommy’s eyes on her has she put the chocolate cake in the oven, and that alone made her hands shake. Against all logic, his gaze on her was something she both craved and escaped, it made her feel uncovered and… seen. She wasn’t used to being seen.

Closing the oven, she pushed those thoughts away. There was no point in torturing herself over what could not be changed. She checked the time on clock on the wall. Forty minutes.

“I have to clean this mess,” she murmured, more to herself than to Tommy. One look at the disaster around her, and she already regretted her decision. She inhaled deeply as the thunderstorm of emotions she was trying so hard to contain threatened to slip out of her control, but soon tears welled up in her eyes. She turned her head away so that Tommy wouldn’t see them, but it was too late.

“Oi,” he furrowed his eyebrows, getting up from the chair. “What’s wrong, eh?”

Many things were wrong. Her family, Stefano, that. Whatever that was. “I have to clean this mess,” she repeated, her voice cracking.

“It’s alright, I’ll help you,” he said reassuringly, taking a few steps towards her, worry painted all over his face.

Nina shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, no I can do it. It’s…” she trailed off, the knot in her throat making it difficult to even speak.

Tommy’s heart painfully squeezed in his chest. It was overwhelming, to see the suffering she hid behind her mask of fierceness and wit. It was never about the tiredness, or the lack of sleep, or the fucking dishes. She had things eating at her from the inside. Just like him.

“C’mere,” he gently brought his hands to her face, forcing her to look at him. A few tears fell from her eyes, then others followed, like incessant stream that could no longer be held back. “It’s alright,” he said softly, wiping them away. “It’s alright.”

Nina closed her eyes, letting herself be soothed by Tommy’s deep voice and the tender touch of his rough hands on her skin. His fingers traveled through her soft hair, brushing it away from her tear-stained cheeks, before resting on the sides of her face again. “This pain that you have,” he whispered, “share it with me.”

She brought her hands above his, looking up at him through her lashes. Her thumbs faintly stroked his skin, and he could read a hint of hesitation in her features. But when she guided his hands off her face and took a step back, he was certain that she had closed off again, leaving him outside of her mind.

As though nothing had happened, she started to clean up, and Tommy with her, despite her protests. For a while, the clinking of pots and the rush of water were the only noises that broke the stillness of the kitchen. Then, unexpectedly, Nina started to speak.

“It has been going on since I was fourteen,” she said, scrubbing a bowl. Tommy stayed silent, afraid that she’d change her mind if he even made a sound.

“I was in the..” she broke off, looking for the right word. “…ginnasio. I don’t know what it’s called in English. It’s after elementary school,” she explained. “Girls stop at elementary school, they don’t get a higher education. It’s not like it’s forbidden, but it’s just how things are. So as you can imagine, it caused quite the scandal.”

Tommy grabbed a towel, drying the utensils that Nina washed as he listened.

“It caught Stefano’s attention. He studied at the liceo, which is after the ginnasio. He always came to talk to me, asked me questions. My brothers had already finished school at the time, so he was free to approach me without anyone saying anything.” She paused, taking her time to properly clean the whisk. “It didn’t bother me, at first,” she admitted, and Tommy caught a trace of shame in her tone. “He was good looking, a bit older, and he was fairly nice to me. Most girls in the village were in love with him and his brother. I had no idea about what they did.” She handed him a spoon, keeping her gaze on the sink. “Then one day I saw them beating a man half to death in his own shop cause he hadn’t paid for protection. I didn’t even know what protection was,” a laugh escaped her lips, but there was no humour in it. “I have my way of finding out stuff, and people talk, words spread. And once I learned who he was, I decided that I didn’t want anything to do with him. I thought I just had to be patient, cause he was on his last year of school. He asked me to be his girlfriend, on the last day before summer break, and I said no. I thought he’d leave me alone after that,” her voice lowered. “He didn’t. Even when he finished school, he’d always find the way to come to me, to talk to me. He became insistent, he thought I was being difficult, that I was saying no because I didn’t want to say yes right away.”

Fucking bastard, Tommy thought.

“The more time passed, the more I saw, and learned,” Nina continued, her eyes darkening at some distant memory. “And I found out Stefano and his brother had a habit of dragging girls into their car. I didn’t know what it was that they did to them, back then. But it was scary. I stole my brother’s pocket knife, just in case, and always took it with me.”

Tommy almost felt sick. It was even worse than he had imagined. It had been going on for years, ever since she was a little more than a child. Years, and she had never said anything. A question burned on the tip of his tongue, a question whose answer he feared, but that he needed to ask nonetheless. For the first time since she had started telling the whole story, he spoke. “Did you… did you ever need to use it?”

She fell silent, and for a moment he thought he had screwed up. But then she nodded. “Yes.”

His stomach dropped at her revelation, and he stopped what he was doing to take a look at her. He could read the effort she was making to talk about that on her face.

“I was buying groceries with Agnese, and she had stopped in a shop. He came to me while I was waiting for her, tried to convince me to go with him in his car. I pointed that knife at his throat the moment he tried to grab me.” Her voice had hardened, her eyes burning with the determination he had witnessed so many times. “That scar he has, it’s because of me.”

Tommy exhaled the breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding. Although enraged, he was relieved that Nina didn’t share the destiny of those girls before her, that she had been able to hold her own. Something really close to pride swelled in his chest.

“Unfortunately, it didn’t make him stop. If anything, it made him worse. The fact that our families do business together didn’t help. Soon he was everywhere. At church, outside my school, he even helped my mum with the groceries. I only had some rest when the war came. His father sent him and his brother to their relatives in New York, so that they wouldn’t fight. I hoped he’d stay there, but he came back. And he started again.”

Having finished to wash the utensils, Nina began to put them back in their place. “Recently, he went to speak with my father. He wants to marry me. That was why he was invited here for lunch.”

Tommy felt the blood freeze in his veins. He had imagined the nature of Stefano’s visits to the Ferrante house, but knowing it for sure was an entirely different thing. The thought of Nina being married to that fucker made him sick to his stomach. “What you just said to me,” he said, “tell your family. They’ll understand.”

Nina shook her head, the shadow of a sad smile growing on her face. “I tried.”

She kept herself busy with the last things that needed tidying up, the topic clearly being a raw nerve. “The first time Stefano followed me home from school I went to my father,” she elaborated, wiping the table. “He asked me if I had, perhaps, done something to… encourage that behaviour. To make him believe that I wanted that kind of attention.”

She finally put down the rag, then she went to wash her hands, dismissing the subject as if it was nothing. But that wasn’t nothing. That was a lot, and she didn’t deserve it. It was no wonder she always acted as if it was just her against the whole world. She had to protect herself for years.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said truthfully. It was the only sentence he could muster up. What could he possibly say, after what she had told him?

Yet, those words had an effect on Nina. All that time, she had felt like it was somehow her fault, or something she had to get over. But that short sentence, said with so much sincerity, carried a meaning of its own. I’m sorry that happened to you. It was the recognition that something had indeed happened, and that it wasn’t something she had done, but something had been done to her. Maybe she was overthinking that, maybe he had only said the first thing that came to his mind, but she needed to hear it.

After that, she let the conversation drop. She would’ve probably regretted sharing that much in the morning, but for the moment she felt lighter. The burden that had weighed down on her shoulders for so long wasn’t as heavy, now that she wasn’t carrying it alone. And even if it lasted just for one night, even if that weight came crashing down on her again the next day, it was enough.

Ten minutes later or so, she took the cake out of the oven, then covered it with a clean tea towel. It would’ve been fun to explain to her mother where it came from. “It’s late,” she murmured, glancing at Tommy. He was leaning against the table, an indecipherable look on his face. Her gaze was captured by the way the muscles of his shoulders showed through his undershirt, then lingered on his forearms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. A warm flush crept up her cheeks, and she found herself taken aback by her own thoughts. She really needed to sleep. And Tommy, who she had kept up with her. A sense of guilt pervaded her. Things weren’t easy for him either, and he needed to rest as well. She cleared her throat, hesitantly getting closer to him. “Thank you,” she whispered, resting her hand on his arm. “For staying.”

Tommy turned to look at her, his body stiffening. That contact was enough to send a chill down his spine. Only the thin material of his undershirt was separating his skin from her fingers, yet her touch burned, awakening all the sensations he had been trying to keep at bay. She was beautiful, and mere inches away from him, and her scent was making his head spin. His eyes drifted to her lips. He still remembered how they tasted, and that only added to his yearning. As though it didn’t belong to him anymore, his hand moved to delicately stroke her cheek, the roughness of his knuckles contrasting with the softness of her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she almost involuntarily leaned closer. With a burning desire clouding his judgment, Tommy tentatively pressed his mouth on hers, testing the waters. When her lips started to move against his, his hand went to cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss. It was different than the first time, when his eagerness was so intense that he couldn’t bring himself to be gentle. He kissed her slowly, delicately, as if she might break in his hands.

Nina did feel like she could break at any moment. Vulnerable, exposed. And the craziest part was that she didn’t mind, not even a bit. Because she felt safe, in his arms. However, once again, reality set over her like a dark mist. She slightly moved away, shaking her head. “We can’t do this, Tommy,” she whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes shut. They were still close enough for their noses to brush, and the tried to imprint that feeling in his mind, in his soul. “I know,” he rasped.

Neither of them moved for a while. Neither of them wanted to. They had been restraining themselves for so long. But it was too late. Inhaling sharply, Tommy took a step back, and a feeling of coldness engulfed both of them.

Nina paced back and forth in her room, fragments of what had happened less than ten minutes ago in the kitchen playing in her head again and again. It felt as if she had reached a point of no return. She couldn’t lie to herself anymore. She couldn’t go against herself anymore. She wanted him. It didn’t matter how much she tried to convince herself that she didn’t, that she should step aside before it became serious, that she’d forget about him anyway. None of it was true. She had tried so hard to put an end to that, to push him away, but she hadn’t been able to. She felt selfish, and cruel, and a traitor for that. And the worst thing was she didn’t care. In that moment, she didn’t care at all. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to be cruel. She wanted to be a traitor. For once, she didn’t want to think about anyone but herself.

Fuck it, she thought. She walked out of her room, her pulse racing. It wasn’t fear, she wasn’t scared of being caught. With her parents’ chamber being in the other corridor and her brothers being away on business, no one would see her entering Tommy’s room. It was the anticipation for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She stopped in front of the door, pondering whether to knock, just open it, or simply leave, feeling her courage already slip away from her. What if he didn’t want to see her? What if he was already asleep?

Determined not to let the whirlwind of thoughts and panic scare her out of it, she brought her fist to the wooden surface. The seconds stretched into an eternity as she waited, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, and when the sound of his footsteps came to her ears, she thought her heart could jump right out of her chest. Tommy opened the door, confusion painted across his features, but before he could say anything, Nina pulled him in and crashed her lips against his. It didn’t take much for him to recover from the surprise and wrap a strong arm around her waist, pulling her inside as he closed the door with his free hand. She found herself trapped against the hard surface, enveloped by the warmth radiating from him as their bodies pressed together. Her hands slid behind his neck, bringing him impossibly closer, eager to feel more. The feeling of his strong frame all over her made her knees buckle, and she was pretty sure she would’ve ended up on the floor hadn’t he been holding her. His smell, which had become now so familiar to her - a mixture of soap and cigarette smoke, with a hint of whiskey-, invaded her nostrils, making her head spin.

His hands roamed down her body, covered by the cotton nightgown. He gripped at the soft material, feeling the last shred of his self control drift away from him. It was too much. She was too much. God knew how much he wanted her, but he didn’t want her to do something she was going to regret. Once they had crossed that line, they couldn’t go back. “Nina,” he groaned, breaking away from her. “We have to stop now. I have to stop now.”

“Don’t.”

In the dim light of the room, Tommy examined her expression, only to see there was not a trace of doubt in her eyes. He gulped, gently stroking her cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He leaned with his forehead against hers, rubbing his thumb on the skin of her jaw. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he husked. “At any moment.”

She nodded, but when he leaned in to kiss her again, she put her hands on his chest. “Wait,” she blurted out, causing him to take a step back. “I’ve never…” Nina didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t need to.

Shit. Tommy had imagined it, of course, he was no fool, but having it confirmed… He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But there was a part of him that didn’t care at all. The bad he couldn’t help.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Nina pondered her answer, the reality of the situation washing over her. Theoretically, she knew what to expect. Practically, it was a whole different thing. And she knew that if she said yes, she’d be ruined. Still, she didn’t care. And she was hit by the overwhelming awareness that she’d let him do whatever he wanted to her. “No,” she breathed out.

She felt like she could melt right there when he raised her chin to capture her lips again. What started as a tender kiss became more heated, and soon he was basically devouring her, unable to restrain himself any longer.

Tommy had thought about that moment more than he’d ever admit, and now that she was actually there in his arms, it almost felt unreal. Yet she was there, and she was trusting him. And as he grabbed her waist to press her against him, he noticed his own hands were shaking.

Nina tilted her head as he started to leave a trail of kisses down her neck. A gasp escaped her lips when he reached a particularly sensitive spot, and an unfamiliar ache spread between her tighs, causing her to unconsciously rub them together. Her reaction didn’t go unnoticed, cause she felt his lips twisting in a grin against her skin. He moved down to her collarbones, then perilously close to her breasts. His fingers travelled up to the straps of her nightgown as he pulled back slightly, a silent question in his eyes. When she nodded, he slowly slid them down her shoulders, uncovering her inch after inch, until she was standing in front of him with nothing on but her knickers.

Her heart raced as she saw desire burning in Tommy’s eyes. Except it wasn’t just desire, or lust. There was something more, something she couldn’t read. No one had ever looked at her that way. With trembling hands, she shyly took ahold of the hem of his undershirt. Her fingers brushed against his skin as she raised it, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps and making his muscles twitch. Once the clothing was lying on the on the floor, she allowed herself to look at him, and explore him. She delicately traced the bullet scar on his shoulder, as if she might hurt him by pressing too hard, then the tattoo on his chest, then the lines of his abdomen, everything that told the story of his life. It was like watching a masterpiece. A torn, tainted masterpiece, but a masterpiece nonetheless.

Her hands reached his trousers, but she raised her gaze on him before unbuttoning them. A glimpse of something that looked a lot like surprise crossed his face, almost as though he wasn’t expecting her to ask. Then he gave her a single nod. After helping her remove them, he gently guided her towards the bed.

A mixture of edginess and anticipation took over Nina as Tommy positioned himself on top of her, one hand beside her head to support himself, the other ghosting over her breasts. She arched her back as he ran his thumb over one of her hardened nipples, the new, strange sensation becoming more and more pleasant as he fondled her flesh. He leaned down to pepper her chest with kisses, his lips warm and soft, then he trailed down to her stomach, her ribs, her belly. That new attention had her squirming under him, eliciting a deep chuckle from Tommy that caused her face to flush. His lips travelled up again to meet hers in a slow, sensual kiss that fogged her brain so much that she almost didn’t notice his hand making its way down to her most private parts. Breath hitched in her throat as he ran his fingers over her clothed sex.

“Do you trust me?” he asked her, his voice reverberating in her own chest. He raised his head to look at her, studying her expression.

Nina’s hand found its place on the back of his head, the short locks tickling her palm. She didn’t even need to think about her answer. One look at his face and she knew. She did trust him, with all her heart. She pulled him down to press a tender kiss on his mouth. “Yes,” she whispered.

Still close enough for their lips to brush, Tommy delicately rubbed his fingers over her heat, stimulating the area while allowing her to get used to the sensation of being touched. When his fingertip found her clit, she let out an involuntary gasp, her fingers tightening around the nape of his neck. He then pushed her knickers to the side, caressing the wet folds before stopping at her opening. Slowly, he inserted one of his digits, and she winced at the foreign, mildly uncomfortable feeling. Tommy stilled his movements, giving her the time to get adjusted.

“Is this alright?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

He began to pump his finger in and out, careful not to go too deep just yet. Nina let out a ragged breath, pleasure building up inside her as she gradually got used to the feeling. His thumb rolled over her clit, the unexpected move eliciting a whimper out of her. Her breathing became more laboured as he added another finger, stretching her further.

Tommy took in the sight of her under him, eyes closed, swollen lips parted, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in a frown. God, she was beautiful. And she was his, even if just for one night. He moved faster and deeper, working her open until he felt it was enough. A whine of protest left her lips when he removed his fingers, and he smirked at the reaction. “Be patient,” he playfully scolded her, earning himself a glare.

He got rid her now inconvenient last piece of clothing, then took off his briefs. Nina couldn’t help but let her gaze wander to the newly exposed part, and a wave of concern overcame her. It couldn’t possibly fit.

Tommy gently parted her legs more to settle between them and hovered above her again, but he must’ve read the apprehension on her face. “Do you want to stop?” he murmured, running his knuckles over her cheek.

His attentiveness warmed Nina’s heart, dissolving any fear she had. She was safe with him. He wouldn’t hurt her. “No,” she shook her head.

He cradled her head in one of his hands and leaned in to place a sweet kiss on her forehead, then lined himself up with her entrance. Nina braced herself for what was to come, her fingers ghosting over his shoulders in a soothing motion. Tommy inserted his tip, and she couldn’t hold back a stifled gasp at the intrusion. He stood still for a moment, reassuringly rubbing her waist with a hand, then pushed a bit further inside her tight slit. Nina squeezed her eyes shut, the burning sensation almost unbearable.

“You alright?” he asked, the effort he was making to restrain himself showing through the rasp of his voice. Her velvety walls were squeezing him in the most delightful way, and it took all his self-control to stop there.

She nodded, silently giving him the permission to go on. Pain and pleasure mixed as he carefully worked his way past her resistance, until he was buried deep inside of her. He stilled again, giving her the time to adjust to his size. That feeling of fullness took her breath away, it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. She pulled him impossibly close, eager to feel every inch of his skin on her skin, to melt into him until she could no longer tell where she started and he ended. A low groan reverberated into her ear as she pushed her hips up against his, encouraging him to move. Tommy started rolling his hips, setting a slow, sensual pace that allowed both of them to feel everything with the outmost depth. His lips claimed hers in a searing kiss, stifling the moans that threatened to escape them. Nina’s hands went to cup his face, the softness of his lips enough to distract her from the last shreds of pain and help her relax, thus allowing him to go even deeper. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, further igniting the fire inside of her.

So that was what Nina had been warned about all her life. That was the sin she had been taught she should avoid at all costs, the sin that would bring shame and ignominy upon her and all her family. And she was surprised to find out that it didn’t feel like a sin. It didn’t feel wrong. How could there be shame in that, when it felt so right? How could there be shame in being in the arms of someone she cared so deeply about, who made her feel so safe? Where was the shame?

Tommy’s hands rested on the back her thighs, fingers squeezing the flesh as he felt her tightening around him. He wanted to take it slow, to savour that moment, but it was getting harder and harder as her warmth, her scent, her shaky breaths clouded his senses. It felt like being in a bubble. Nothing else mattered, nothing else was real. Time had stopped for them to exist in that moment.

Nina hid her face in the crook of his neck as he quickened his pace, feeling her muscles tightening in her lower stomach. Tommy guided her to wrap her legs around him, the new angle making her see stars. His thrusts became more erratic, more frantic, causing that strange feeling in her abdomen to become even stronger. “Tommy,” she whimpered, overwhelmed by that vortex of sensations.

“Let it happen, love,” he whispered in her ear, his length twitching at the way his name sounded on her lips.

With a few more thrusts, he pushed her over the edge, and she had to press her mouth over his shoulder to silence the sounds she couldn’t hold back anymore. It didn’t take long for Tommy to follow her, his hips jerking as he spilled himself inside of her.

The world stood still as they stayed in each other’s embrace, Tommy’s cheek brushing against hers. He buried his nose in her dark hair, inhaling her lavender scent. For once, his head was silent. No nagging thoughts, no shovels against the wall. Just peace.

Nina gently stroked the back of his head, breathing deeply as her heart slowed down to a normal rate. Fuck, she had never felt anything like that. It had been… intense. And it had tied her to him more than she could’ve ever imagined. It was scary, to be so connected to someone. To feel someone that much. That was the right expression. She felt him. As if he were part of herself. As if there had been an empty spot inside her soul, and she had lived with it all her life, only to find that it was him the missing piece.

A sudden blast of cold hit her when Tommy got up, depriving her of his warmth and weight. She watched in confusion as he disappeared in his private bathroom, wondering whether something had happened. She sat up on the bed, bringing her knees to her chest. Had she done something wrong?

However, she didn’t need to worry for long, cause soon Tommy walked back into the room, with his private parts now covered by a pair of briefs and a fresh towel in his hand. Without saying a word, he climbed back on the bed, smiling softly at the puzzled look on her face. Slightly embarrassed now that the disinhibition brought by the feverish state they had previously been in had faded, she felt her cheeks grow hot when he gently spread her legs apart. He delicately ran the towel over her sensitive skin, cleaning her up from the sticky mess between her legs, his eyebrows knitted in a concentrated frown. Once again, his attentiveness made her heart skip a bit, and she was amazed by how easy it was to let him take care of her. She never let anybody take care of her.

As Tommy discarded the towel somewhere on the floor, Nina’s attention was caught by the blood stain on the white top sheet. Shit. She got up to remove it from the bed, doing her best to ignore what she’d prefer would stay tomorrow’s problem. “I’ll have to take care of it in the morning,” she murmured.

Tommy laid on the bed again, then reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand to light one. He watched her as she looked for her nightgown among the mess of clothes on the floor, naked, with only her long, ruffled hair to cover her a little. She was quite the sight.

Much to his dismay, she soon found what she was looking for, and covered herself. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, motioning for her to get back in bed, having had enough of having her away from him. “C’mere.”

Nina gladly took her place back next to him, resting with her head on his chest as he draped an arm over her shoulders. She could’ve stayed there forever. But she knew that it wouldn’t be long before the sun made its appearance on the horizon.

They stayed in silence as Tommy smoked his cigarette, his fingertips mindlessly grazing her arm. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or about what would happen next. He wanted to stay in that moment while he still could, because he knew he wouldn’t get it back. That thought stung. But he was aware they needed to have that conversation. This time they couldn’t just pretend nothing had happened, and the sooner they talked, the sooner they would clear things out.

“Nina,” he whispered, but no reaction came from her. She had fallen asleep.

Tommy stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray, then turned the small lamp off. He didn’t have the heart to wake her up.

They would think about it tomorrow.

NEXT CHAPTER

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[demento-mori]

Maybe i should reread jekyll and hyde and see if the last two chapters were as painfully boring as i remember or if i was just really tired that day

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Growing up in an extremely ultra religious, cult-like family was a mindfuck for multiple reasons but that doesn't stop unfortunately, even when you escape. For example, see: The overwhelming feeling of boiling hatred and shame for who you used to be.

The angry hatred for the past person I used to be, the version of myself that mindlessly parroted my family's beliefs and listened to their every command, constantly simmered under my skin and invaded my every thought. I was embarrassed of what I used to be- even as I made friends of different ethnicities and faiths, as I listened and explored new ideas and worlds that I never knew existed, as I started the first LGBTQ+ club at my school and volunteered with kids who deserved so much more- there was always a little voice in the back of my head.

"They would hate you if they knew what you were. They would hate the horrendous teachings that were seared into your mind, the things that you used to say and believe. You are nothing but a pretender."

And it is true that my beliefs were bigoted in all the worst ways. It is true that I believed truly heart-wrenching things without a second thought and judged others in such harsh and unfair ways. I told myself that there was no coming back from that, not really. There was nothing I could do to ever make up for it.

Then I remembered that the person who said those things wore velcro light up sneakers and collected finger puppets that the librarians handed out as awards for reading picture books. The person that held signs at pro-life rallies and anti-LGBTQ+ protests had a cherished sticker book and hunted minnows in the creek after school and adored their puffle on club penguin and was really into greek mythology and had skinned knees from climbing trees at recess and knew every Disney song by heart and was absolutely terrified of the dark.

That person was a child.

I was a child.

It took a really long time. Years and years of reflection and distance, but I've decided that I can't hate the past version of myself anymore. I feel pity and remorse, I feel anger- I feel so much fury and violent rage- at what my childhood was and I grieve what could- no, should- have been, but I no longer resent who I was.

I'm not ashamed.

I am so, so, so unbelievably proud of that little kid. For being brave enough to leave the comfort and safety of what I was told was right. For not being afraid to be wrong. For seeking out information and knowledge in a culture that praised ignorance. For questioning everything, relentlessly.

I am by no means a perfect person, I never have been and I never will, but I am proud of myself in every iteration that has ever existed because I know that I have never stopped trying to understand and learn and grow, and I never will.

If you have ever been in a similar situation and feel similar things, first of all: My condolences on your lost childhood. Second of all: Please be nice to that past version of yourself and recognize all the hard work they did to make you who you are today. That person was a survivor and an inspiration. They deserve nothing but love.

[hypnagogics]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

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[nereidprinc3ss]

in the dead of night

in which spencer wakes up in the middle of the night with an overwhelming desire to feel you

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: fem!reader, soft dom!spence (certified nereidprinc3ss classic), sub reader, fingering, piv sex, praise, overstimulation, cr**mp*e (god pls we need a new term) a/n: this is probably THEE most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. but.... lowkey favorite smut i've posted thus far..... i'm such a sucker for disgustingly sleepy needy sex. just.... read it and u will see.... and as usual i love you!!! PLEASE tell me what you think!! MWAH

When Spencer got home around one in the morning, he’d been too dead on his feet to do anything more than get undressed, fall into bed, pull you close, and pass out. Now he’s slightly disoriented as he stirs, pinned between sleep and wakefulness as he realizes how you’ve curled into his side—your face is buried in his shoulder to the point where he’s concerned about your access to air—but each warm puff against his neck assures him you’re breathing alright. One arm is slung haphazardly over his shoulder and your top leg is wound around his. Without thinking, his hand cups the back of your thigh, stroking the bare skin where it presses against his hip. You’re never so soft as you are in sleep; plush, easy, gentle. Spencer realizes with some degree of frustration that he has to fuck you. That’s why he’s awake, and he condemned himself to the fate of it as soon as he touched you. 

Sometimes the impracticality of sex becomes so apparent he resents his own mammalian, biological drive to reproduce. It was never like this before he met you. You reduce him to nothing more than a primate doomed to follow its basest instincts. You make him feel stupid. 

God, he loves you. 

It’s with this in mind he drops his head to kiss your shoulder—a gentle sort of wake up call, as his hand snakes further around to your inner thigh and he presses his lips to your ear. 

“Baby?” he murmurs, kneading the smooth warmth of your leg. It doesn’t take much to wake you up. He thought after you’d been staying at his apartment on a semi-regular basis you’d begin to sleep through him getting up and coming home at odd hours, but if anything, you became more sensitive to the floor creaking or the mattress dipping. 

“Hm?” 

His fingers brush the fabric of your underwear. Your hips twitch. 

“Is this okay?”

You inhale deeply, readjusting your arms around him and nodding into his chest. 

“I need yes or no, angel.”

“Yes, please.”

The words aren’t desperate. They’re sleepy, mumbled, maybe even a little annoyed that he’s making you jump through hoops. The corner of his mouth twists in amusement at your perfunctory politeness and the way it poorly disguises your habitual impatience. 

“Thank you,” he says, rewarding you with his fingers pushing between your folds through the fabric. You say nothing more as he unhurriedly rubs your clothed clit, but he feels the way your breath catches for a moment—before pouring out in one deep tide. He presses slightly harder, transitioning from passes to slow, tight circles that elicit the tiniest, sleepiest moans. This goes on for a while until your hips begin grinding in isolated circles, chasing his hand. 

“Touch it,” you beg quietly. He can feel how damp you are through the fabric and realizes he was probably torturing you for several minutes, but sometimes he just gets so lost in touching you it becomes almost meditative. He pulls his hand away and snakes it between your bodies, sliding beneath your underwear and dragging his fingers over your puffy clit. You whimper but he quickly gets distracted when he realizes just how wet you actually are. Spencer sinks his fingers into you and moans lowly at the sound, rubbing at a spot deep inside you and rutting his palm against your clit rather than pumping his fingers. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you when he realizes how still and silent you’ve gone. A small amount of air escapes in a tremulous little cry as your hips roll gently against his hand—whether to escape the sensation or get closer is unclear. “You’re all wet, baby. Were you touching yourself before I got home?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly against him. “Couldn’t come.”

Spencer feels like he could finish at the thought alone—the nightly phone calls while he’s away occasionally devolve into desperate phone sex and he’s gotten off to the image of you playing with yourself in his bed on more than one occasion. 

“We’ll make you come,” he promises, dragging his fingers from your soaked heat with bated breath. 

He pushes your underwear down first, until you can kick it off your feet (you’ll have to search for it between tangled sheets tomorrow) and then his own, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth as his cock brushes your tummy. Spencer hoists your bent leg further up his body, exposing your cunt a little more and reaching underneath your thigh until he can guide himself between them. 

The head of his cock pushes between your folds momentarily before he’s teasing your swollen clit, slipping the underside of his tip over it in lazy, noisy circles until you whine. 

“Stop it,” you beg, voice still strained with sleep, “need it inside.”

“You’re right, baby, I’m sorry,” he croons, pressing his lips to your hair as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance and slowly begins to push in. “You’re being very patient—”

He cuts himself off as the two of you moan in filthy harmony. You’re so worked up for him, so defenseless in your half-unconscious state that he slips in with far less resistance than usual. 

“Fuck, me,” he groans under his breath, hissing and bucking his hips when you tighten around him and cry out. He shuts his eyes and thinks of the Goncharov conjecture in an attempt to control himself; the i-th cohomology of the complex is isomorphic to the motivic cohomology group—and then he’s fine. He’s at least learned to stop rattling off mathematical paradoxes out loud during sex. “You okay?”

The only answer you have for him is an indecipherable whine that makes his chest ache. He rubs your thigh in sweet, soothing passes. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” A thought occurs—he chuckles breathily, seeing stars as you throb around him. “You never let me in that easily.”

“Mm,” you squeak, gripping his shoulder hard enough that it aches and he truly couldn’t care less, “you feel good.”

He exhales shakily, pulling out slightly before grinding his hips even deeper into yours. 

“Yeah? So do you, sweet girl.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, and he takes it as a sign that you’re ready to be fucked. Spencer’s not thinking about a whole lot as he withdraws all the way and you clench around him desperately—but somewhere in the back of his mind he’s realizing how much he loves your dirty mouth. When he was younger and dumber, he thought he’d prefer a girl who was soft-spoken and rarely (if ever) cursed. Now that he’s had you, he realizes how compelling and endearing the contrast of your soft voice is when you’re swearing like a marine. 

“God, I missed you,” he breathes into your hair as he leisurely finds the right pace and you melt against him. “I missed how soft and wet you get for me,” Spencer admits gently, eyes screwed shut as he rambles from a place of profound affection and not at all thinking clearly, “and I missed how you cry when you need it so bad it hurts, and I missed how sweet you are when you let me fuck you right after I get home and you’re so tired, just like this. You’re always so good, honey, I don’t know what I did to deserve you—” You whine and clench so hard around him it becomes an effort to push back in, and he groans as he realizes you’re already coming. “Good girl, baby. Holy fuck.”

That last part is more so whispered to himself, but he can’t help it as he feels you painting his cock with your release. You’ve never come this quickly before, and he slips his arm beneath the crook of your knee, pulling up and granting himself more access to fuck you harder and faster. You moan brokenly, sinking your nails into his back. 

“‘m sorry. That was—I didn’t mean to.”

“No,” he quickly assures you, breathing hard, “that was so good, baby. It was perfect. Don’t apologize.”

It seems the brief window between climax and over-stimulation has passed, and a gasp falls from your dropped jaw, arching into him as your body unconsciously tries to find relief from the sensation. 

“Oh, god, Spencer, I—”

“You can take it, we’re getting close,” he promises. Not a demand, but meant as encouragement. “Do you think you can come for me one more time?”

“I don’t know,” you slur, the words rising to squeak. 

“I think you can. Come on, show me how you were touching yourself earlier.”

You whimper, but slide your hand from his shoulder and push it between your bodies. A gasp accompanies the jolt of your muscles as you make contact with your clit, probably demanding too much of it. Soon, however, the conflicted mewls melt into a rhythmic string of delicate, short moans, so pretty it’s like a practiced song. Spencer’s brain, usually overflowing with words, is nothing but a void of swirling fog—each of your perfect sounds, a little burst of light. Soon he’s making noises of his own, which you obviously adore if the way you tense around him is any clue. Usually he sublimates them into words, but he’s too tired, and you feel too good. Your combined moans, along with the sound of him fucking you and the sheets moving over skin make for a truly dirty soundscape. 

“Will you come inside me?” you beg breathlessly, and he can feel the movement of your hand speeding up as you get desperate. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at your plaintive request—the words bring him that much closer to finishing. 

“Yeah, baby. I’m—fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Spencer—” and somehow, when you say his name like that, he knows exactly what you want. He bows his head and finds your lips, mostly blind in the dark, kissing you messily until that split second where his grip on reality becomes tenuous before the building pressure finally bursts. Multicolored fireworks explode behind his eyes as he moans against your lips and continues fucking you through his orgasm in strong thrusts for as long as he can. Thankfully you finish again just as he’s running out of steam. He rubs the spasming muscles of your thigh deeply as you writhe against him in your typical push-pull style—you don’t know what you want and it’s his job to hold you still and make you take it. After a moment you quiet down, stilling in his arms except for the continued expansion and contraction of your lungs. “Oh my god,” you breathe. “I can’t believe I did that. That’s so embarrassing.” Spencer chuckles breathily—kisses your forehead with his eyes still shut and slips a hand under your shirt to rub your back. 

“Why is it embarrassing? I liked it.”

“I have never—it’s never been so fast! It’s not supposed to be!”

“Why not?”

You huff.

“You’re the man. Men come too quickly. Not me.”

“I’m sorry you had to have two orgasms instead of one. Next time we’ll make sure you don’t come so we can even it out.”

You bury your face in his shoulder once more, immediately softening. 

“No! I take it back.”

“I thought you might.” His hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass affectionately. “Let's rally. We need to clean you up, angel.”

The pillow muffles your voice as you say, “I can’t. I’m asleep.”

“Can I record you saying that for playback in the morning when you ask me why I let you go to sleep with my come inside of you?”

“Spencer, I am seriously not moving. You woke me up. This is not a me problem.”

That makes him laugh, and he presses his lips to yours softly. After a long moment of his mouth moving slowly against yours, a needy little whine rushes from your nose, and it becomes evident he’s successfully kissed the attitude from you.

“You were so good, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. Another (shorter) kiss. “Did so well. I’m proud of you, baby.”

A second soft whimper from you as you chase his lips and he gives in once, briefly—knowing he can’t make you get up after this. How could he do that to such a sweet girl when she’s obviously completely exhausted? Jesus, you have him whipped. He recognizes that. And he made peace with it a long time ago. 

“Go back to sleep. I’ll clean you up.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, already slipping back into unconsciousness like you knew you’d get your way. Knowing your boyfriend, you probably did. “I love you.”

“I love you. Even though you’re a princess.”

You laugh. 

Ten-ish minutes later, once he’s done the best he can cleaning you up and is throwing the covers back over both of you, you startle him slightly by speaking. He thought you’d been asleep. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you sigh dreamily, snaking your arms around him once more. Spencer’s cheeks heat up at the memory of the praise he’d shamelessly lavished upon you not long ago. He’s glad you’re barely awake, because he’s too flustered to think of a response. 

He loves it when you do that. 

[technicolorxsn]

hm.

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE MAKE UP SEX — GOJO, TOJI, NANAMI

summary: you annoy your boyfriends, they annoy you, you fuck and all is well. that's the fic.

cw: afab!reader, dry humping with toji, gojo eats you out in the shower, nanami spanks you and fucks you against a wall so slay mdni. come for the smut, stay for the dialogue.

an: this was fun to write actually, I had a whole geto part written but I deleted it all so rip to that, I hope you enjoy. this is barely make up sex tbf its more, your boyfriends being bothersome and fucking you afterwards. not proofread so ignore mistakes pls

☆ GOJO

gojo satoru was an attention whore. you’ve always known that about your boyfriend – loved him for it even. the way he’d bask in the attention from you, his friends, even strangers on the street, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his name. which is you knew when you gave him the silent treatment, it annoyed him like crazy.

“baby please,” he whines, as another hour passes of you being completely silent, “i didn’t mean it.” 

you walk straight past him, trying to keep yourself busy. it was hard to ignore your boyfriend, he was just so lovable �� but you had a point to prove. he was tailing behind you, not letting you out of his sight. he was like a small child, a puppy even, his lips pouty, eyes wide, begging for your attention. 

you head to the shower, since surely that's the one place you could continue your charade uninterrupted right? wrong. gojo is right there with you, simultaneously stripping down with a devious glint in his eyes. 

as soon as the shower water turns on, his hands are all over you, you’re just how he likes you — naked and wet. you try to suppress your moan, to stand your ground just a little longer, but it was getting hard with the way his fingers were separating your pussy lips. he lowers down to his knees, his hair brushing against your stomach as he tongue drags across your wet slit.

“you gonna talk to me now?” he mutters, the sound muffled as you push his head deeper into your sobbing cunt. he smirks, knowing that what he’s doing is working.

gojo’s tongue swirls across your clit, nipping at it. his hands work their way up your ass, gripping against it as he nuzzles his face further into your pussy. “f-fuck,” you sigh out, already cursing yourself from breaking your silence, but you just couldn’t help it. the feeling of him lapping at you was just too much for you to take.

“what was that baby?” he teases, looking up at you, his face drenched in both shower water and your pussy juices. your lips part slightly, the feeling of you about to cum getting overwhelmingly stronger. 

you head rests against the shower wall the water trailing down your tits, landing in gojos hair — making it easier for you to slide and tangle your hands in. he hikes one of your legs onto his shoulder, angling his tongue further into your pussy using the way you scratch and tug at his scalp to go even deeper.

you’re just about to cum, grinding yourself into his face, but just before you can — he pulls away. he stands up on his feet, giving you a peck on the lips, before exiting the shower — feeling satisfied.

“toru, i forgive you,” you call out of the shower, needing him right back in there to finish you off. you couldn’t even really remember what he did to annoy you in the first place, but you both proved your points. “you can come back now bae.”

he damn near twists his ankle running back into the shower, an eager smile on his lips as all he wanted was to hear you speak to him again — to hear you need him.

☆ TOJI

“you forgive me yet princess?” he says with a grin, pressing kisses to your neck. 

“move toji” you snip, half heartedly shrugging him off you. technically toji hadn’t necessarily done anything wrong, it was just one of those days where you were not in the mood — and toji just knew all the wrong buttons to push.

“is your period due or something?” he teases, laughing as you roll your eyes, “i could’ve got the paracetamol, all you had to do was ask?” 

“fuck off,” you retort but it had no real bite to it — you both knew that. 

“aww princess are you upset?” he continues to mock you, a prime example of toji getting on your nerves and enjoying the hell out of it.

“shut up,” you mumble, letting yourself be taken in by your boyfriend as he pulls you up onto his lap. he’s quick to rid you of your shirt, exposing your boobs, to which he grins at — amazed at the sight.

he pulls one of your tits in his mouth, sucking on it hard as his hand works on the other boob pinching at your nipples. “t-toji shit,” you gasp at the feeling of his tongue swirling against your hard nipple, his head resting on your shoulder as his mouth envelopes your tit.

you grind against his thigh, as he continues to suckle on you. his body moves with yours as your clothed cunt drives against his leg. his lips move from your tits to your mouth, pulling you into a deep kiss as his hands start to fondle your breast. 

“you really fucking yourself on my thigh, huh?” he smirks in between kisses, tugging on your tits harder, “i don’t even have to do much to get you off.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, overwhelmed at the feeling of his hands playing your boobs and your pussy gaping trying to clench around nothing as you vigorously rub yourself against his thigh.

“y’gonna cum for me princess,” he teases, raising his leg up slightly causing more friction between your pussy and his thigh, “gonna make a mess in your panties for me?” you nod, your forehead resting against his as you moan against his lips, buckling against him as you cum. 

he gives you a final peck against your lips, satisfied in pleasing you. “you still mad?” he jokes, already knowing the answer. he lays his head on your chest, using your tits as a cushion, smiling in content as you stroke his head.

“shush,” you hum out with a smile.

“see i knew all you needed was to get your titties sucked.”

☆ NANAMI

“why are you such a slut sometimes?” nanami asks, roughly pushing you forward, your hands pressing flat against the wall. 

you had barely made it inside your house, before your husband had your dress hiked and panties off. you went out on your weekly date night, and tonight you decided just to rile your husband up a little bit more than usual. 

he spreads your legs, easily slotting in between them, freeing his dick out of his pants rubbing it against your wet folds. you liked it when he was like this. any time you had sex with him, it was great, but there were rare occasions when you just wanted him to be a bit more mean — and tonight was one of those nights.

“i’m sorry kento, i didn’t mean to,” you lie, if he could see your face he’d be able to see the pleased smile beaming off it.

“oh cut the shit,” he comments, as his dick slams into your pussy. you were soaked, watching the way he was jealous of the waiter you were ‘flirting’ with earlier, already had you feeling things, “i know what you’re up to.”

“and what is that?” you ask coyly, playing dumb — oblivious to the obvious.

“you’re trying to get me all riled up, so i can fuck your slutty little brains out, isn’t that right?” he asks, his dick hammering into you at an unforgiving pace. he was sliding in and out of easily, driving against your spot with every hit. his hands roughly grip against your hips to keep you in place. “and it’s working.”

nanami continues to drill into you, spanking your ass with hard, repetitive slaps as his hips meet yours. your mouth widens with every slap, the feeling of his large hand hitting against your ass cheeks causes you to moan loudly in pleasure.

“f-fuck kento, fuck me h-harder,” you gasp out, his hand moves from your ass coming under to flick your clit as he continues to pound into you. you were close, he could tell, but he wasn’t letting up with his relentless strokes. 

“are you sorry, baby?” he asks, his thumb still pressing on your clit, rubbing on it just as hard as he was fucking you, “tell me you’re sorry.”

“i’m sorry, i really am,” you mewl, feeling your hands slip against the wall as he drives into you hard, you body crumbling at the force.

“do you want me to cum inside this pretty pussy?” he asks already knowing the answer, his smirk growing as you nod, clearly drunk on his dick as it thrusts into you further.

“p-please, i need to cum,” you whine, practically begging as you throw your ass back on his dick, eager to cum. “let, me cum.”

“c’mon babe, cum all over my dick,” he growls in your ear, spraying your walls with his cum, grinning as you release all over him but he forces his dick back into you, plugging your pussy with both of your cum. “shit, that was great.’ 

he eventually pulls out of you, giving your ass a final slap, “y’know if you want me to fuck you like that again, you don’t have to flirt with a waiter for me to do that.”

an: so what do you think....??? dont use the dividers property of big emp

[yooniivrse]

diet pepsi | jjk

summary. stuck in the rain, jungkook can’t resist the sweetness of your lollipop—or the taste of your lips.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: established relationship au (kind of?), suggestive

word count: 1.4k

content/warnings: allusions to car s^x / kissing / making out

notes: inspired by this ask. ik i’ve only written for yoongi on here until now, but i thought that jk fit the request better. as always, asks, reblogs, likes, comments and feedback are so so appreciated! not my best work but i hope you enjoy my loves <3333

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main masterlist

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The rain had been falling for hours now, in waves so steady it felt like the whole world had dissolved into a haze of mist and water. Jungkook’s car was the only thing cutting through the fog, its headlights barely illuminating the slick pavement ahead.

The city lights blur in the distance, their neon colours muted by the downpour. Inside, it was warm, quiet, with only the soft hum of the engine and the patter of rain against the windows.

You sit in the passenger seat, the candy on your tongue melting into a slow, sugary sweetness. A lollipop, something you had absentmindedly grabbed from the convenience store before you hit the road. Now, you twirl it between your fingers, occasionally taking it back into your mouth, tasting the sweet tang as you watch the rain race down the window.

Jungkook, next to you, is focused on the road. His grip on the steering wheel is relaxed, the ink across the back of his hand disappearing into the shadows cast across his skin every so often.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching the movement of the lollipop between your lips. Though the movement is subtle, you don't miss the way his jaw tenses, or how he shifts in his seat ever so slightly. His expression is cool, his face unreadable, but a small smirk teases a corner of your lips.

The soft glow from the dashboard casts shadows across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Can I have a taste?” His voice is smooth, cutting through the low hum of the engine, playful but low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You glance over at him, brows raised slightly in surprise by the sudden request. You slide the lollipop out from between your lips, holding it out in front of him with a teasing tilt of your head.

His eyes flicker from the road to the candy, then back to you. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your pulse quickens at the subtle undertone in his voice. The suggestiveness lacing his words isn't lost on you, and something about the way the rain made everything outside feel distant and forgotten made the air inside the car feel thick, heavy with an unspoken tension. You plop the lollipop back in your mouth, swirling it around in a deliberately slow manner, before pulling it out again, this time letting your teeth drag lightly across it.

“Oh?” you murmur, turning your body toward him, leaning a little closer. “What did you mean, then?”

Jungkook shoots you a sidelong glance, his lips curving into a small, almost dangerous smile. He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air between you, like the lingering fog outside the car. His fingers flexes against the steering wheel, and you watch the way his knuckles whiten as his grip tightens.

Outside, the rain begins to fall harder, each drop splashing against the windshield like tiny explosions. The wipers move faster, thundering from one side to the other, but it only made the scene beyond the glass more distorted, more dreamlike. The city lights turn into glowing streaks, the world outside reduced to a blur of motion and colour.

Inside, it feels as though time has slowed.

“You’re gonna make me crash if you keep that up,” he mutters, his voice thick with something deeper, rougher.

“Am I distracting you, Kook?” you asked, your voice light, but the challenge in it was unmistakable. You blink at him innocently, failing to hide the cocky smile that draws across your lips.

His hand tightens on the wheel for just a second, and you know you have him. His eyes are still locked on the road, but there's something in the way his breath quickens, the way his body shifts, that tells you he's paying more attention to you than he is to the endless stretch of highway in front of him.

Without saying anything, you lean back into your seat, drawing the lollipop slowly into your mouth again, the sticky sweetness spreading across your tongue. You can feel his eyes on you, a quick glance, before they flick back to the road. The air between you crackle with a tension that feels like it might snap at any moment, and you revel in it.

Minutes pass, the rain a constant backdrop, the car a world of its own. Every now and then, Jungkook would exhale sharply, and you’d catch him watching the way your lips moved around the lollipop, the way your mouth worked the candy with deliberate, languid motions. It's a game, one you know you're playing well, and you can feel him slipping.

And then, just as you're about to push him a little further, Jungkook’s hand moves from the steering wheel. He reaches over, his fingers brushing against your thigh, light at first, but firm enough that it sent a jolt of heat through you. His touch is warm, steady, and he gives your leg a gentle squeeze.

“I’m pulling over,” he says, his voice deeper, rougher now, no longer trying to hide the want simmering underneath.

Your heart skips a beat, a thrill running through you as you watch him steer the car toward the side of the road. The rain hasn’t let up, pouring harder now, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The world outside has already disappeared, fading into nothing more than a wet blur, leaving just the two of you.

Jungkook shifts the car into park, the engine still running, headlights casting faint beams through the thick curtain of rain. He leans back in his seat, exhaling slowly, before turning his head to look at you, his gaze dark, heavy with intention.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he says, his hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers now tracing lazy circles over your skin.

You smile, a small, knowing smile. “You know you love it.”

He doesn't deny your words, and simply watches you for a long moment, as if weighing what to do next. Then, slowly, his hand slides higher, his fingers brushing the hem of your denim skirt, teasing the skin beneath. The warmth of his touch sends a wave of heat coursing through your body, and suddenly the air inside the car feels too thick, too charged.

Jungkook moves his hand up from your thigh to cup your cheek, and you pull the lollipop out of your mouth just before he presses his lips to yours.

His touch is soft at first, the pressure he puts into the kiss feather light. When he pulls back, your eyes remain shut for a few more seconds. He moves his thumb across the apple of your cheek and your eyes flutter open.

In an instant, his lips return to yours with such force that you freeze for a second. He kisses you roughly, refusing to part from you as if you might cease to exist if he does. His mouth is sweet, his breath tinged with hints of mint, and a small sound escapes your throat when he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth.

Goosebumps rise across your skin as his kisses move along the curve of your jaw, his electric touch leaving you breathless.

You pull apart from him only when you're forced to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes dart across your parted lips.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover, his hands slipping back to your waist, pulling you closer again as if he can't stand the distance between you. His kisses trail down your neck, slow and deliberate, each one more intense than the last. His lips graze over the sensitive skin just below your ear, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips.

He pauses for a second as you stare at him with eyes clouded with desire.

"Fuck," he groans. "Get in the back seat, baby."

[ozzgin]

Santa baby are you really there?!

*hears a voice in my backyard*

FUCK SKIN WALKER

- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable

I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D

Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]

On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.

Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud

It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.

You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.

Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.

Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."

Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.

Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.

That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...

You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?

The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.

[k3n-dyll]

☆F.U.C.K

Warnings...18+, wlw, not proofread, also, written at 2am, established friends with benefits, self-indulgent smut, dom!Abby, shower sex, strap on (r!receiving), strap referred to as a dick/cock Word Count:2.08k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ The next fic I have based on a song will not be as fun! Just a heads up. Also, two works back to back within a few hours? We're so back

FWB!Abby who isn't known to be very open about her sexuality. Sure, there are rumors, and there are people she's told that she's lesbian, but that list is pretty limited to close friends. It's not that she's trying to hide it, anyone with working eyes who takes more than a second or two to look at her can tell, she just doesn't feel like it's anyone's business but her own.

And yours of course.

Abby's never been particularly sappy or romantic. Still, despite how intense her day-to-day is - fighting Scars, killing infected, being on high alert at every turn because there's no way of knowing what will be the next thing to try and kill her first - she's a bit of a thrill seeker in her own way. The idea of doing something seemingly forbidden, the rush of nearly getting caught doing something less than savory, has never failed to be a turn-on for her and it's something that, over time, you've become acutely aware of. She's gotten into the habit of dragging you into bathrooms, and storage closets, sometimes even taking it upon herself to get handsy underneath tables when in the presence of others just to see that nervous look you get.

It should be no shock to you that she'd do something like this and yet, you're still baffled.

The showers were peaceful today, it was late and most people were either asleep or just waking up for their own shifts. After a long patrol, all you wanted to do was turn on the hot water and let it soak over your aching muscles, washing the blood, dirt, and sweat that had accumulated on your skin down the drain. You weren't expecting to feel a large pair of hands gripping at your waist in the shower, and if you hadn't known better, you might have started swinging.

"Abby, what the hell?" You flinch a little under her grasp, and while you try to sound angry, the amused chuckle that forms with your words is hard to stifle.

"Nice to see you too" Abby mutters, already beginning an assault on your neck with her lips, trailing wet kisses down your skin as she speaks.

"I thought you said you were tired" You try and turn to face her but you're only met with a tightened grip on your body, forcing you to face the glass shower wall.

"I lied."

Before you can think up something snarky to say, Abby presses her front up against you further and you stiffen completely, the sensation of something that definitely isn't normally there now flush against your ass.

"What is that?" You question, turning your head in attempt to get a look at whatever it is she's got rubbing against you, but again she forces your eyes forward, grabbing your chin to make you face the wall again.

"I want you to guess." She purrs, nipping at your earlobe, unable to stop herself from letting out a low chuckle. "C'mon, baby, I know you remember. That shop we passed by the other day? You were all curious about it, but we never got the chance to really look around."

In order to somewhat jog your memory, one of her hands releases its grip on you, wrapping around what she has and pressing it between your soaked thighs, shallowly thrusting it between them. Your breath hitches at the feeling and the memory comes flooding back into your mind. It was a few days back - Manny had pointed out an old sex shop and being the man he is he just couldn't shut up about it. Mostly he'd bragged about how, as much as he'd like to experiment, his own hands and body got the job done just fine.

In the moment it was funny, and a little stupid. The three of you managed to catch a quick glimpse of the interior, seeing some of the different toys that hadn't been looted or destroyed and joking about all of the time people in the Old World must have had to be so experimental with their sex lives. Unbeknownst to you, one toy in particular had caught Abby's eye. She didn't point it out to you or Manny, but right before you all had to leave, the rest of your patrol group having already started packing up to head back to base, she'd hidden it so that she could go back for it later. And she did.

"Figured it out, pretty girl?"

Abby's voice snaps you out of your head and you nod, coaxing another low chuckle out of her.

"You wanna see it?"

The moment her hold on you loosens you turn around, eyes panning down her toned, naked frame to the black harness that was fixed around her hips and landing on the toy that had just been sliding up against your cunt. Your eyes widen at the sight of the thick, purple silicone toy dangling from her body, and as much as you'd like to deny the immediate heat that rises in your belly at the sight of it, you can't.

"I don't think that's gonna fit. And...and what if we get caught, Abs you can't just hide that thing"

You say it without much thought, your words forcing a genuine laugh out of your 'friend'. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes.

"You worry too much, baby. I locked the door. If someone comes knocking, I can just get out and tuck it in my bag before we open the door" She reassures as she gently guides you by your waist to the fogged-up wall, pressing you against it. "And trust me, once I get you nice and warmed up, it'll fit"

Abby sinks to her knees in front of you without another word, settling herself between your legs and dragging her tongue along your slit. The doubt that was once present in the front of your mind quickly starts to fade as she laps at your dripping heat, your hands weaving into her wet hair and holding on to keep her in place. You feel the tip of two of her thick fingers dip into your pussy, coating the digits with your arousal before slipping them into you completely.

She never failed to have this effect on you, and if it weren't so sexy, it'd be frustrating. Your mind is so quick to go blank under her touch, hips unconsciously grinding against her tongue as she swirls it along your puffy clit. Abby's unusually slow about it at first, curling and scissoring her fingers in and out of you, making sure to prepare you as best she can, but by the time she slips in a third finger her impatience and excitement makes itself known. You're practically teetering at the edge of an orgasm when she pulls away from you entirely, a whine escaping you as you're denied a release.

"Abby..."

"Shh, baby I know" Abby murmurs, standing back up, smiling softly as she watches your brows fix together. "I want you to cum on my cock, not my fingers. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Something about the way she refers to it as her own, as if she'd grown it herself sends a shock of electricity through you, and you answer her with an eager nod.

"Atta girl, now be good for me and turn around" She instructs, pushing you flush against the glass when you obey her command.

Abby knows how badly you must be aching at this point, her own precum leaking down her thighs as her eyes rove over your back. Even so, she takes her time, fucking your thighs, calloused palms spreading your ass a bit to get a better view. She groans at the sight of your essence combining with the water, making the dildo glisten in the fluorescent lights.

"God, you're so fucking wet" She whispers. "So ready to get split on my fuckin' dick, aren't you?"

The desperate little whines and the way you wiggle your ass back onto her is all the confirmation she needs to slowly push in, though, to neither of your surprise with how soaked you are, it proves to be rather easy. The difference is almost funny to her. You looked so nervous when you'd seen it initially, and now you were sucking her in like you were used to it.

"There ya go, slipped in so fast baby, fuck"

The way Abby moans when the toy is all the way inside of you, the way she struggles to keep at a slow pace to make sure you're well adjusted to the girth - you'd think she could feel it. It's an adjustment for both of you, the task of keeping it from fully slipping out of you when she pulls back proving to be a tad more annoying than she thought it would be, but she figures it out. And, God, if it isn't fucking worth it when she does.

Each thrust is like a shock to your system, Abby's pace only increasing as she loses herself in the moment. She could probably - and likely will end up - cumming from this alone. It was already a bit of a fantasy in her mind, having often wondered what it would be like to fuck you like this, but she didn't think she actually could. Her vivid blues are transfixed on the way your ass jiggles with each hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin only made more intense by the water flowing along your bare bodies.

"A-Abby I- oh my god, please!" Words barely come out of you, and when they do, they're choppy breathless rambles with no real substance. Normally you were so careful about volume, but there are always times when she'd fucked you so stupid that you stopped caring. This, for example, being one of those times.

"So fuckin' pretty...you look so fuckin' pretty trying to take it for me" Her grip on your hips is bound to leave bruising, but all you can think about is how grateful you are for that fact. If not for her hands, you'd be on the ground by now, legs shaking and unable to hold your weight any longer.

Abby knows your tells well enough to see when you're about to explode - the incoherent sobs, twitching legs, your hands desperately trying to grab onto everything - anything that could possibly help ground you even a little bit. It only eggs her on, her arm snaking around your body to rub feverishly at your aching clit, almost impatient in her need to watch you come apart for her.

"Fuck, don't stop Abby, please, 'm so close...so fuckin' close" You manage to blurt out, damn near crying at the intensity, eyes rolled into the back of your head, head lulled forward against the wall. It's taking everything in you not to fall apart this instant but you want to drag it out for just a little longer.

"Almost there, honey, I got you... C-c'mon, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking cock"

The white-hot intensity of your orgasm sends you reeling, a string of curses and choked cries spilling from your lips, arousal further wetting your inner thighs as it spurts out of you. Abby can't help but moan loudly at the sight, continuing to pump in and out of you to let the base of the toy bump against her clit more, her own climax following soon after yours.

Somehow, Abby manages to stay upright despite her legs feeling like putty, knowing full well that if she falls you'll go down with her. Her strong arms wrap around you tightly as she pulls out of you, her sweaty forehead resting against your back as you both work to catch your breath.

"Fuck..that was..." She trails off, the actual strain of her actions hitting her body, making it difficult for her to get a word out between breaths. You giggle at the sound of her struggle, though you aren't doing any better.

"So fucking good.." Is all you breathe out, your mind still too fuzzy to think of something better to say.

Abby just nods, lacking the energy to say something snarky in response, the only sound remaining being the now cold water from the showerhead pitter-pattering against the ground, though eventually, she does force herself to speak up once more.

"Once I....catch my fuckin' breath...we're so doing that again"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,

[mysicklove]

CW: reader sucking nanamis dick lol, me playing up nanamis old manness bc i am picturing him as a middle aged man, no power dynamics, nanami cums on your face n realizes he may have a kink, reader is ":3" coded, unedited for now bc i need sleep

a/n: wrote this cause im down bad. not written well tho LOL

"Are you sure you like this? I dont want your jaw to hurt..." Nanami questions, furrowed browed as he gently traces the skin near your temple.

You were kneeling in front of him, hands placed on his thighs and grinning at him. "I want to. I really, really want to. Been thinking about it all day."

"You are quite eager."

"Arent you?" Your eyes trail to cock in your hand, completely hard and flushing a shade of red. His work attire was still on, and you just unbuttoned his pants enough so that only his dick was free. You had a thing for the work attire - you couldnt help it, he looked incredibly good in a suit.

In return, Nanami just rubs at his mouth, not denying it. Then he pets your hair, settling in his chair. "Okay, but I wont be mad if you grow uncomfortable."

You rolls your eyes at him, pressing your cheek against his cock. "You coddle me too much. I will not die from sucking dick, Kento."

He stays quiet at this, just silently brushing your hair back into his palms, holding it away from your face. It was polite, all things considering. You smile at him, while your tongue drags from the base of his cock to the tip.

You continue to prep yourself, licking and gently kissing the shaft, while Nanami watches in silence. Then, you put your mouth over him and begin to suckle the tip. A sigh is let out from the man, and he resists the urge to shut his eyes, wanting to watch the lewd sight.

Your head find a steady motion - bobbing up and down until you gag and pull off. He pretends that the sound doesnt turn him on, feeling bad that something uncomfortable for you sends blood rushing to his groin.

When you pull away, slightly panting, he rubs at your lips, now coated in saliva. "Are you okay?"

"You're doing it again, Kento. I am not a child - I've sucked other mens dick before."

He blinks at this, before frowning and forcing you back on his cock by your hair. But, when he heard your giggles from below, he realized quickly that you only said that to tease him. He sighs at that, shaking his head. "Do you like making me upset?"

You hum around his cock, letting drool purposefully fall from your mouth and down till it reached his balls - it was always bettter when it was sloppier, or so you have heard. But, you pull away quickly to answer him, tilting your head to the side so that you can continue to lick his shaft.

"Kinda fun to - you get this look in your eyes. Its weirdly sexy seeing you mad."

His non dominant hand goes back to caressing the skin on your face and his eyes soften. "I would never actually be mad at you."

You make eyecontact with him as you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the redden tip, ignoring the salty taste of pre. Then you give the head another kiss, pressing your nose against it. "I know. You're too soft around me. Its cute, I dont mind it."

"I'm glad," he breathes, and then he pauses, gulping, and looking away, "Then if you dont mind, can you go a little farther down? If its not too uncomfortable, of course."

You obey with little hesistation, mouth coming closer to the dark patch of hair on his lower abdomen. This time he groans out, and cant help but shut his eyes at the warm feeling of your throat. You try your best to focus, but seeing your lovers face contort with pleasure was too pretty to not watch.

His hips move from his chair, slightly bucking into your mouth like he couldnt control them. It makes a lewd noise in the back of your throat, and he groans hearing it. You continue your movements, and with each moment, his cock gets wetter from the amount of saliva coated on it.

Large, callused finger tips run over your neck, feeling the way his dick creates a small bulge, and he lets out a shaky breathe. "Fuck. Wow, you are something. Doing so well, thank you, thank you, fuck."

Tears are beggining to prick at your eyes from the lack of air, but still you try your best to nod at him, even if the action sends him groaning out again.

He was growing overheated from the whole thing, and you watch as he removes his tie and unbuttons the top part of his shirt. The sight makes you slightly moan, and it sends a vibration up Nanami's spine.

When you pull away for another breathe, he lets out a noise close to a whine, and you hold back a chuckle. "Looks whose the one eager now." You tease, and his cheeks pinken slightly as he looks away.

"You really treat me so well."

"You think I am good at sucking dick?"

A lewd way to put it, and Nanami wouldnt phrase it like that, but alas, he nods his head, before guiding you back onto his cock. You in return laugh, and immediately go back to work.

With each bob of your head, he gets more into it, now slightly pushing you down farther by your hair. You don't mind it, and Nanami begins to pant from the pleasure, deep and breathlessly. The sound only spurs you on.

It doesnt take much longer for his abdomen to tighten up, and the feeling of his orgasm to approach. You could tell he was close to coming, even without a warning from the way his grunts seem to grow louder. So you continue your pace, trying your best to hold out without a breathe until he cums down your throat.

But, to much of your suprise, he pulls you off from him by your hair. You try to protest, wanting him to cum in your mouth, but he simply grabs at his cock with his other hand and pumps it a couple of times before aiming it at your face.

Cum shoots out of the wet head, and you are forced to shut one of your eyes as the white liquid lands on your upper cheek and eyelid. The rest lands on a multitude of places on your face, causing you to squint your one opened eye. He groans the entirity of it, and so you let him cum all over your face, finding the noise cute.

But when he is done, you simply wipe off your eyes, leaving the rest for now, and blink up at him with a small frown. "You know it would be alot cleaner if you would have came down my throat."

Nanami just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then, you notice the tint of red that danced on his cheeks and ears. Your face lights up at the realization. "I knew you had some sort of kink. You're not as vanilla as I thought, Kento! Who would have thought cumming on my face would do it for you."

"You just look...so pretty like this." A laugh falls from your lips, as your eyes travel back to his cock that was beginning to harden again. Now, it was time for the real deal - you almost squeal in excitement as you drag him to the bedroom.

[whisp3roftheheart]

FINALLY finished the seven moons of Maali Almeida, moving on to Sophie Go's Lonely Hearts club by Roselle Lim!

[reilemon]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[hynzsn]

💭 LOSER BF ★

☆ choi soobin x male reader 18+ MDNI

-> loser!soobin x supermodel!reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut, headcanons

contents: top!soobin x bottom!reader, big dick!soobin, slutty!reader, cockbrained!reader, cock size, rimming, oral fixation, edging, barebacking, oral, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise and degradation, rough sex, kissing, moaning, overstimulation, belly bulge, voyeurism, mirror sex, anal fingering, anal sex, forehead kisses, handjob, aftercare, foreplay

a/n - i didn’t mean for this to be so long lmfaoo 😭 i literally had to take a minute and realize how much i was yapping away… and the way i would’ve written more too… big dick loser boyfriends for the win!!!

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

from the outside, it seems like you’re completely out of soobin’s league. you, a stunning supermodel, adored by millions, with your stunning looks and perfect body, the epitome of grace. then there’s soobin, with his shy demeanor and awkward charm. to the world, you’re the unattainable star, while soobin is just some lucky guy who somehow managed to capture your heart.

fans and followers constantly comment on how lucky soobin is, how they can’t believe someone as gorgeous as you is with him. there are endless discussions about what the hell you see in soobin, some assuming that it’s to make yourself look better while others assume there’s some hidden charm to soobin.

in interviews, you’re always asked about your relationship with soobin, with the interviewers always hinting at the disparity in your “league.” however, you always smile and talk about how much you love soobin despite the insinuations there.

you always drag him along to high-profile events, where you’re the center of attention, cameras flashing and people fawning over you. soobin always stays in the background, looking proud but out of place in the world of glitz and glamour.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

but behind closed doors, only soobin knows the truth about your relationship, how the dynamics change drastically. he knows how good he can make you feel with his pathetically large cock, turning you into his little cockbrained slut. in private, soobin holds all the power. he can make you feel things no one else can, reducing you to a moaning, desperate mess who lives and breathes for his cock.

soobin’s cock is easily over 8 inches long, closer to 9 on on his good days, with a thickness that stretches you out in the most deliciously obscene ways. its not just the length but the girth too - so thick that your fingers can barely wrap around it fully. the prominent vein running along the underside pulsing with soobin’s heartbeat, a tactile reminder to the power contained in his large cock. the head is broad and perfectly shaped, a deep, enticing pink that contrasts with the pale skin of his cock. when soobin is fully hard - and he always is whenever you’re around - his cock stands proudly, curving slightly upward.

when soobin’s inside of you, you can always feel every inch, every vein, every throb, stretching you to your limits and beyond. it’s a size that leaves you breathless every time, your body trembling with the effort to accommodate to such a magnificent intrusion. the way it fills you up, bottoming out with every thrust, makes you feel claimed, owned, and utterly satisfied.

during forpelay, soobin’s hands are always a bit shaky, his touch tentative as he explores your body. there’s an endearing uncertainty in the way soobin’s fingers trace over your skin, as if he’s in awe at the privilege of touching someone so perfect. soobin’s hands are gentle, almost reverent as they glide over your curves. he takes his time, savoring every inch of your body, his touch soft and affectionate. he loves to explore your body with his lips and fingertips, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites.

soobin’s eyes are always locked on yours, filled with adoration and desire. he loves watching your reactions, the way your eyes flutter shut or roll back when soobin hits the right spot.

even after countless nights together, soobin still blushes fiercely whenever you tease him or compliment his cock. his stuttering attempts at dirty talk often turn into breathless, mumbled confessions of how much he loves making you feel good.

in the privacy of your bedroom, you’re always on your knees, worshipping soobin’s cock with a fervor that belies your public persona. your eyes are always glazed with lust, your lips stretched around soobin’s length, and your hands trembling as you try to take soobin as deep as possible. soobin loves to see you like this, usually taking control of the situation. he guides your head, setting a rhythm that has you choking and drooling all over his cock.

you, who commands rooms and hearts with ease, becomes a pleasing mess for soobin. you beg to be filled up, to be stretched out by soobin’s large cock, your voice high and desperate. “please, soobin, i need you inside me,” you whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

once soobin is inside you, you transform into a cock-drunk slut, your mind blissfully blank except for the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim. your eyes roll back, your mouth falls open, and incoherent moans spill from your lips as soobin thrusts into you with a ruthless rhythm.

when soobin finally let’s go of his inhibitions, his thrusts become rough and demanding. he loves to watch the way your body responds, the way your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. the bed shakes with a force of his movements, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s kinks ★

barebacking: there’s something intensely intimate about the feel of your bare skin against his own. soobin loves the raw connection, the way he can feel every clench and flutter of your needy hole around his cock.

overstimulation: soobin takes a perverse pleasure in pushing you to your limits. he loves to watch your body shake and tremble, his cock still buried deep inside of you as he grinds out every last drop of pleasure. your cries of “too much,” only spur him on, knowing that you love every second of it. he knows exactly how to drive you wild, teasing you until you’re a trembling mess, begging for release. “is this what you wanted, y/n? to be my pretty little cockslut?” soobin murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

belly bulge: soobin is obsessed with the way his cock creates a visible bulge in your belly. he loves to press down on it, feeling himself through your skin as he watches your eyes roll back in bliss. it’s a visual reminder of how deeply he’s embedded in his lover, a sight that never fails to drive him wild.

praise and degradation: soobin gets off on the power of his words. he loves to shower you with praise, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are, especially when you’re writhing in pleasure. conversely, he also enjoys calling you his “pretty little slut,” or “cock-hungry whore,” the contrast driving both of you wild. the mix of tenderness and roughness is a potent aphrodisiac for him.

voyeurism: thought not always explicitly expressed, soobin had a hidden voyeuristic streak. he loves to watch you touch yourself, seeing the way your body responds to your own hands. the sight of you pleasuring yourself to the thought or sight of soobin, is intensely erotic.

rimming: soobin always ensures the environment is perfect - soft lighting, clean sheets, and a sense of privacy that allows you to fully immerse in the moment. he gently guides you to lie down, spreading your legs to give him full access. soobin starts with light, teasing touches, running his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh’s and ass. the soft caresses, making you shiver with anticipation, your body already responding to soobin’s expert touch. soobin’s tongue makes the first contact with your rim, a light tentative lick that sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. soobin loves the way you gasp and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

soobin’s licks become more deliberate and thorough, his tongue exploring every inch of your sensitive hole. he circles the rim, flicks his tongue against it, and presses in just enough to make you moan with need. your reactions fuel soobin’s desire. the soft moans, whimpers, and gasps that escape your lips are music to soobin’s ears. he knows exactly how to use his tongue to drive you wild, alternating between slow, sensual licks and rapid, teasing flicks. soobin’s hands aren’t idle during this act. one hand spreads your cheeks apart, giving him better access, while the other hand stroke your cock.

as your moans grow louder and more desperate, soobin increased the pressure and intensity of his tongue. he pushes his tongue deeper, lavishing attention on your needy hole, making sure every movement is filled with purpose and passion. your body only responds beautifully to soobin’s rimming. your hips start to move, pushing back against soobin’s mouth, seeking more of that incredible sensation.

sometimes, soobin adds to the sensation by slipping a finger into your hole alongside his tongue. the combination of his tongue and finger stretching and teasing your brings you to the brink of ecstasy. once soobin feels that you’re on the edge of ecstasy, he transitions from rimming to planting gentle kisses all over your ass and lower back.

mirror play: soobin loves taking you in front of a mirror, making both of you watch as you’re being filled and fucked. the visual of your expressions, the way soobin’s body moves, and how his huge cock disappears inside of you is such a huge turn on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s favorite part of your body ★

soobin finds every part of your body captivating, you’re an absolute masterpiece in his eyes. but if he had to choose a favorite, it would undoubtedly be your lips. there’s something about them that mesmerizes him.

your lips are incredibly soft, a perfect blend of tenderness and sensuality. soobin loves the feeling of them against his own, the way they move with gentle, teasing caresses that make his heart race. your lips are incredibly expressive. whether they’re curved in a sly smile, parted in a gasp of pleasure, or pouting in a playful protest, they communicate a myriad of emotions that soobin finds irresistible. soobin can’t get enough of kissing you. he loves the way your lips, respond to his, the way they model together in a perfect dance of passion.

waking up to you, soobin’s first instinct is always to kiss you. whether you’re on the couch, in bed, or even sneaking a moment in public, soobin’s favorite way to show his affection is through deep, passionate makeout sessions.

oral fixation: there’s a special kind of pleasure that soobin finds in watching you use your lips and moth during sex. kissing down his body, pleading and begging for him, or taking his cock into your mouth, your lips drive him absolutely insane. soobin often finds his hands drifting to your lips. the way they part under his touch, how they feel soft and pilant underneath his fingers. sometimes when your moans grow too loud, soobin gently pressed his fingers to your lips, silencing you with a soft but commanding touch. the sight of your lips wrapped around his fingers, the way your tongue flicks against his skin, is incredibly sexy for soobin.

sometimes, words aren’t necessary. a simple kiss from you can convey more than a thousand words - a promise of love, a reassurance, or an unspoken desire. soobin cherishes these silent conversations, finding comfort and connection in the language of their lips. on days when soobin feels stressed or overwhelmed, your kisses have a healing power. the gentle press of your lips against his forehead is likes soothing balm, washing away the tension and worries that weigh him down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s favorite place to cum ★

is inside of your mouth. the warmth, the softness and the way you look up at him with adoring eyes as you take soobin inside of your mouth, swallowing every drop of his cum, the way your lips glisten with his cum after he pulls out, when you lick your lips with a satisfied look on your face, it’s all like a drug to him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after your intense sessions, soobin always holds you close, whispering sweet nothings and stroking your hair. you cling to soobin, feeling safe and cherished, completely satisfied and throughly used.

you wear soobin’s marks with pride, hidden beneath your designer clothes. bruises, love bites, and the occasional handprint are all reminders of who you truly belong to, symbols of the nights spent being fucked by your loser boyfriend.

when you’re out in public, you and soobin share secret smiles and knowing glances. no one else knows the truth of your relationship, the depth of your connection, and the intense pleasure you share. It’s your private world, a hidden paradise where your true desires are fulfilled by the only person who truly understands you.

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.��

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James’s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

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