#careless whisper would have him climbing up the fucking walls

[vampiresfromxenon]

RIP Gale Dekarios, you would’ve unironically loved 70’s and 80’s music such as Abracadabra by Steve Miller Band, Livin’ Thing by ELO, and ESPECIALLY Tainted Love by Soft Cell

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 4: Wet dreams and taxi rides

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 5

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

You lie in bed for hours, watching where the wall and roof blend together and the occasional light streaks through your blinds from a passing car. Your stomach is coiling around in your abdomen, and it pinches painfully when you think too hard. The bed is abandoned, and you tread to the kitchen on light feet. The tap water is cool and you gulp it down gratefully.

Your mouth is still dry, and you lean against the kitchen sink, resting your head onto your crossed forearms.

You nearly fucked House.

Okay. Sure, that was a gross over exaggeration. You were a sex-deprived woman, so the mere fact that you nearly asked him to pull over was shocking. You were supposed to be in control of impulses and urges and you had spent years cultivating that skill. You were supposed to be serious. Focused on the job. Focused on paying your bills. Not being in control scared you, and it scared you more than it was because of House.

But maybe it was the intoxication of the night. Laughing and chatting and smiling with your three colleagues was addictive- even though you were shy, and feeling timid on the new ground you stood upon, they made it easy. It had been a long time since you had friends; true, genuine friends who weren’t old ladies or postmen. But you still recognised the beginnings of them.

So maybe it was that. They finally cracked you out of your shell, bit by bit over the night, and House knew exactly what cracks and fractures to push and poke at- stare at your chest, make sexual joke after sexual joke. You couldn’t though. He was your boss, and you can imagine after the one measly orgasm, if that, he gives you, he would lord it over your head and force you to be his doting underling.

You gulp down another glass of water, as if you’re trying to bury the thoughts of him under a deep ocean. Padding back to your room, you bury your face into your pillow. You force your eyes to close and try to shut down the whirring machinery in your head. When you fall asleep, it’s yet another restless night. Yet again, it’s filled with dreams of House. You’re in his car, but like most dreams it doesn’t quite make sense. The car isn’t moving, but he still moves the wheel to and fro. Your brain is kicking into speed, and starting to pick apart the inconsistencies- why is he in Chase’s lab coat? Why is his stereo blasting Careless Whisper? Why is he singing along?

You shut down your own questioning, sick and tired of yourself. You ask him to pull over. There’s no snarky remark, no analytical eyes, and no mean commentary. He twists the wheel to the side and turns to you and then you’re climbing over, straddling him, bouncing hard and fast and you’re slick and wet and he’s groaning and gripping your hips and fucking into you hard and-

You wake up rutting against your own hand.

His name is a curse on your lips when you throw your blanket to the side and storm to the shower. It felt like you hadn’t slept at all, and yet the alarm clock that you leave behind tells you otherwise.

It’s one thing to have a dream of your boss. It’s another thing to have a sex dream of your boss. It’s a ‘you need psychiatric help’ thing to lean against your shower wall and muffle your moans when you climax hard to the thought of the sex dream of your boss. You’re replaying the sound of him groaning into your ear and the feeling of him clinging to your hips. What if wasn’t a dream? Would he be gentle, kissing you with slow strokes or rough, biting you when you get overstimulated? You’re clenching desperately against nothing as it all throws you over the edge. Your legs wobble, and you slide down the wall, gasping.

Oh, god.

That was not a measly orgasm.

To be fair, he didn’t have any direct involvement. A deep shame settles in your gut almost immediately after the action, and you keep the handle twisted to the left, where the water stays frigid; maybe you can drown yourself in the icy water and never have to face the man again, who you jerked off to after one half-arsed, barely tension-filled moment and a dream. Honestly though. You didn’t have the effort to rent some shitty, c-par VHS porno and this was the first, and by far most-fulfilling, wet dream you’d had in months. You’re sure you could be excused for taking advantage of that.

Despite how excused you are, the shame creeps over your shoulders and the back of your neck the whole bus ride to work. He is your boss. He is also your boss who is nearly double your age. And Cameron had given you plenty of warning- House was not the man you should develop feelings for. He was cold and callous and mean, and you tried to pride yourself on being the opposite. There was Foreman and Chase. God, why couldn’t you have had a sex dream of them? It would have been so much simpler, so straight-forward. Although Foreman did have his ‘friend’, Chase was nice. He was practically a puppy last night. He would be easy to like. Easy to fantasise of. Hell, you may even have a chance with Chase.

That made it so much worse that even now, you were squeezing your thighs tightly at the thought of House. You didn’t like House, no. But your body did. The bus acts as a punisher; you lean your head against the window and it retaliates by rattling and going across as many potholes as possible.

At work, you tentatively walk into the conference room, practically tiptoeing across the threshold. Foreman sits in the corner, nursing a mug of coffee and nods at you. Cameron looks up at you and smiles, letting out a soft “Good morning.”, to which Chase, who had his head slumped in his hands, whips towards her like a cranky librarian. “Shh!”

You laugh quietly and Cameron rolls her eyes towards you. “If you couldn’t tell by everything about him, Chase has a hangover.”

Snorting, you say, “I could tell.”

Foreman snickers into his coffee and Chase slumps back against the table.

You expected House to be cold. Distant. Withdrawn. You expected him to act like a boss who got an erection from staring at his new employee’s tits; scared and shaking in his boots that HR might be coming to see him (regardless of whether or not said employee got off to him that very same morning). What you did not expect was for him to be obnoxious.

You bend under the sink, assuring yourself that yes, your forgotten bag is where you forgot it. A sharp wolf whistle enters the room, and Chase groans loudly when House follows. “Wow!” House practically drools your last name, and you stand up quickly and sheepishly. “First the bra and now the thong? Are you trying to seduce Mr Light-weight over here or me?” He crosses his fingers theatrically, and makes puppy dog eyes, “Please let it be me.”

You’re not sure if the blush that lights across your cheeks is from his words or because you already feel your dirty deeds weeping out of your pores like sweat. You aren’t able to decide before he uses his cane to push you unceremoniously to the side, paving his path towards the coffee maker. You quickly slide in beside Foreman and Cameron shoots you a look across the glass table, as if to say ‘What was that?’

You pretend like you didn’t see her, and tuck your nose into one of the case files strewn across the table, trying to make sense of the words. At some point, when the coffee machine is desperately sputtering for its life, you glance up. Everyone at the table followed your lead and was immersed in the files. You look towards House where he leans his palms against the counter, trying to make the machine work through pure will and spite alone.

You wonder vaguely how he spent his night. Your brain was conjuring up images and sounds and touches of him. You were coated in a thick, heavy quilt of embarrassment and shame but really, you wondered if he was coated in it too.

His eyes quickly flick towards yours, and you’re too stunned to look back down to your file and pretend you weren’t staring at him. His jaw flexes and his brows inch closer to each other. He knows. Oh, god he must know. He had picked you apart perfectly yesterday by some flour on your neck, what was stopping him from picking you apart perfectly today by the redness on your cheeks?

The thick coil of shame in your stomach tightens, and at that, you break away and stare back down at the file. The words are swimming on the page and you try to even your breathing. You only look back up when House hobbles towards the whiteboard and bangs his cane against it. Chase sits up straight like a shocked sergeant, and even Foreman groans at the loud noise.

“Wakey-wakey! We have work to do.”

—————— House doesn’t bring up the car ride. Ever.

You’re grateful; you were worried if he talked about it, somewhere in your worried ramble of a response, you would let slip something like “Just a dream about us in your car had me weaker in the legs than most of my ex-boyfriends!”

So when one week passes by and he doesn’t bring it up, and then two weeks, and then three, you’re grateful. You don’t have any more dreams of him, and try to keep your distance to ensure it remains like that. It must have just been a fluke- just one time, where your hormones were all over the place, and it wasn’t your brain doing the thinking. You continue learning your way around the hospital and how to tackle the cases; you do the dirty work that the trio of doctors and House don’t want to do. House says its fantastic experience to be getting stool samples and induce vomiting and doing allergy scratch tests. You know it’s not the experience as it is letting them all do the ‘cool’ procedures like lumbar punctures or biopsies.

Cameron sees your downturned face one morning when you hand her the freshly drawn blood, and smiles at you softly. “It’s a crappy form of hazing, but we all did it. House gets us to treat you like an intern, and if you survive, you get to treat the next person like an intern.”

Foreman scoffs from where he leans over a microscope. “The cycle of abuse continues.”

Indeed it does.

You thought you would survive the ‘internship’; sure, it was dull and blatantly unfulfilling, but give it a month or two and you would have a patient bound to have heart problems, and your time to shine would have arrived.

House, however, had other ideas. When it becomes apparent that you’re happy, or at least content to be involved in helping the team rather than running the show, you sense a shift in him. He pointedly asks you questions about the new cases, regardless of if the ducklings have an answer. When you’re wrong, he laughs at you. When you’re right, he shakes his head and says “Obviously. I could have asked an illiterate three-year-old, and they would have been able to point that out in shapes and colours.”

You’re two months into your job when your pager practically buzzes off the bedside table. There are still boxes that remain stubbornly unpacked in your bedroom, and you nearly trip over the pile of them as you scramble out of bed. You dress as quickly as humanly possible and sprint to the bus stop. You’re nearly dry heaving and clutching at a stitch in your side when the bus pulls up, and you collapse onto one of the seats.

The neon, blinking clock at the bus's front makes you thump your head back against your chair.

4:37. Fuck.

You race into work while it’s still dark, and whiz past tired night-shift nurses. Chase yawns when you enter the room, and for once, Cameron remains blearily staring down at the table. Foreman doesn’t even try to look awake, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly agape.

House spins from the whiteboard and pins you with a glare. “You’re late.”

You tuck yourself into one of the chairs. “I got here as fast as I could. ” He rolls his eyes and turns back to the whiteboard. “‘As fast as you could’ is not fast enough. Lucky for you, the patient wasn’t stung by a box jellyfish, or they would have been long gone by a third of your commute.”

You scoff. “Ah, whatever will they do in a hospital surrounded by other doctors and nurses?”

Chase snickers, but House silences him with a look and turns back to you. “Be on time. Or next time you’re late, you’re fired.”

Ouch. What crawled up his arse and died?

You could tell him off; tell him that he knows exactly where you live and that you had gotten here literally as fast as you could. But the sky is still dark and you’re focusing on fighting back a yawn rather than House. So, you settle back into the chair and rub at your drooping eyes. Foreman snores softly beside you.

When the sun begins rising, and the cacophony of the hospital becomes louder, House finally puts down his marker. He had been firing question after question to the table and scribbling like a madman. The whiteboard looked like the inside of a psycho’s cell where words were scratched and etched into the walls frantically. You imagine his home looked the same. Concrete walls barred windows and deeply grooved words. Perhaps a carved to-do list reading ‘1) Be Rude 2) Be insufferable 3) Offend someone 4) Solve a case”

He limps across to the small kitchenette, abandoning number 4. He makes four coffees and grimaces sarcastically across to you when the machine begins spluttering on the last one. You’re certain that somehow he had calculated the amount of water, and decided for once to make coffee for others just to deny you some. “You just lucked out. Maybe next time.”

You smile. “That’s fine. I prefer tea, anyway.” You omit the fact that, as much as you disliked it, you had been sculling coffee since med school.

He snorts. “The poor man’s caffeine.”

Cameron perks up across the table. “Caffeine?”

House hands her a cup, and slides one to both Foreman and Chase before leaning against his back against the sink and sipping on his own. Chase turns to you with House engrossed in his own mug, raising his mug in question. He mouths the word “Poison?” and you nod your head earnestly. He drinks it anyway and pokes his tongue out at you when he’s finished.

You all spend the remainder of the day barricaded in the conference room, slouched over. House doesn’t let anyone leave, even when Cameron insists she needs the bathroom. He scowls. “You can go potty when you all use your brains and figure out what's going on with this patient. Come on!”

Your brain is so sleep deprived, you just blurt out something. House turns to you, with an eyebrow raised. “What? Do you need to go potty so bad that you’ll just make something up?”

Your brain clicks into gear, and you drag your hands down your face. “It makes sense. The blood pressure. The elevated SED rates. The culture results.”

Foreman shakes his head. “Not the tox screen by that thinking or the chest pains.”

Chase scrunches his eyebrows. “Yes. It does. It caused a secondary infection, which explains that perfectly. That’s why the white blood count was down and is now way up.” House is silent as he listens to them bicker for a few more minutes. He turns to you, and the lines of his face deepen. “If you’re wrong, he dies. Do you really want to hang that on your pride?”

“It’s not my pride. It’s what I think.”

He near-whispers your last name as if it pains him to do so. “Fine. Start treatment; if you’re right, its too late to wait for confirmation tests and if you’re wrong. Well, you won’t have to worry about showing up on time anymore.”

Energised by the sudden breakthrough, Chase and Foreman scramble off and you and Cameron are quick to follow. You deliver the treatment in a drip, and the three doctors surrounding you smile when the patient’s wheezing immediately lessens.

Foreman claps you on the back. “You were right.”

Chase crosses his arms, and leans against the wall, surveying it all. “You know House won’t let it slide, right? Newbie, showing him up in the unbreakable case?”

Cameron laughs and begins walking out. “Just because he hates you, Chase, doesn’t mean he hates everyone who’s right.”

———— Cameron was wrong, apparently.

Cuddy nudges you with her foot, and you jolt awake. She peers down at you. “What are you doing down there?”

You look around yourself, trying to figure out exactly where ‘down there’ was. You let out a soft sigh and push yourself up from the floor. “House has us on watch. Wants us to be here if anything goes wrong.”

Cuddy pinches the bridge of her nose. “I thought you cured the guy- congrats, by the way. But I thought you cured the guy?”

You blink the sleep out of your eyes. “We did. He should be discharged when he’s fully recovered in a week.”

Cuddy narrows her eyes. “So if all of you are ‘on watch’ for a relatively fine, recovering patient, where are the other three kids?”

Biting your lip, you sigh. “Okay. House has me on watch.”

Her response is short and clipped. “Why?”

“Why does House do anything? I think he gets a kick out of it.”

“No.” She purses her lips. “You wouldn’t be here if House didn’t have a reason, and if he didn’t, you would have fought him for it. So what is it?”

You chew your cheek. “He hates me. I was late today and I messed up on lab results last week and screwed up on routine histories the week before that. It’s like he has a catalogue in his head of every mistake that I make. I can’t do anything right by him.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetheart, every doctor has screw-ups. House, out of everyone, has many; he just gets away with it the most. You’re still new, and you have House as a boss; I would have quit one week into it, so I know you’re doing well. And, if you weren’t making mistakes, and most importantly weren’t trying to learn from them, then I’d be worried- no one is infallible under House.”

She shakes her head, and her black hair bounces with the action. “Go home. It’s nearly 11. I’ll deal with House if he has an issue with it- which I’m sure he will. You did well today, kid. You shouldn’t be punished for that.”

You decide not to make her second guess herself. Smiling gratefully, you say, “Thank you.”

Cuddy nods her head at you, and you begin walking down the hallway, towards the elevators. “If House had been hell-bent on torturing you, I’m assuming he didn't mention anything about the dinner?”

You shake your head. “Uh, no, what dinner?”

She tuts.”Bastard. He probably shredded them.” She pauses in the hallway and turns to you, her shoes clicking smartly against the floor. “We have our annual Princeton-Plainsboro charity ball coming up. It’s short notice thanks to House, but you’ll be expected to wear a formal dress. Cocktail or whatever floats your boat. Come with me, we’ll actually get you the invite with all the details.”

You stifle a yawn, and follow her, your feet dragging behind you. When, after what felt like the most torturous journey, you arrive at Cuddy’s office, she leads you inside. Drawers are slammed and papers shuffled, but triumphantly she raises a white envelope.

You open it, and your eyes flick across the page. Cuddy’s more intuitive than you thought, or perhaps you were more easy to read because she purses her lips. “What’s wrong? I know it says it goes for a while, but as long as you show up you can leave whenev-”

“I don’t think I should be invited to this.”

Cuddy blinks, and leans against her desk, crossing her arms. “And why not?”

You try to blink back the slight tears forming. You could not be getting this emotional over something so minor. “It says, esteemed guests. It’s got guest speakers, for gods sake. This is something incredibly fancy, and something that I don’t think I fit well into.”

She scoffs. “Are you serious?”

Now it’s your turn to blink in shock. “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you but-”

Cuddy cuts you off. “You’ve been a medical prodigy since you were twelve. I got your resume and was nearly going to offer you the job on the spot. You’re part of the best diagnostics team. You just solved a case that had even House stumped.”

You laugh. “I didn’t solve it though. I suggested something that we had talked about earlier! New symptoms confirmed it and I was just able to put it together.”

“Exactly! You put it together! Not House, or Cameron, or Foreman, or Chase. You. What happened to your spitfire attitude when you first got here? You said you’d be able to deal with House.”

Your lip trembles, and suddenly you feel very small. Pathetic. “I can. But I feel like nothing I do is enough for him. I do what he tells me to, and I’m wrong. I get a case right, and I’m wrong. It’s infuriating!”

Her eyes soften. “Nothing you do will be good enough. Nothing is ever good enough for him. But that’s on him, not you. You’re a good doctor; don’t let House make you feel any less than that. “ She pins you with a colder glare. “So you’re going. End. Of. Story.”

You nod, and slip out of her office, trying to not feel dejected.

You cross your fingers where they’re tucked into your coat. Hopefully, Cuddy’s opinion of you doesn’t change; you could deal with House. You just thought things would get better when you were able to show your skills, to be right when all else was wrong. Whatever. You clench your jaw, steeling yourself. If House, no matter what efforts and achievements you make, would always be an arsehole, you could manage.

The universe, however, is out to test you.

The hospital’s awning offers little protection from the cold wind whipping past as you wait in the taxi zone. You tighten your coat around yourself and blanch when the tell-tale sound of his cane resounds behind you.

You remain facing forward when he stands beside you. Oddly enough, you’re thankful that he’s taking the brunt of the wind, and you can escape it momentarily.

“11 PM. Saved by Cuddy.”

You could manage. You could manage. Just don’t cry, after such a long, tiring, difficult day. Don’t cry. You nod, watching as a small family bundles themselves into a reserved taxi and speeds away. God, why couldn’t that be you?

When you don’t say anything, House continues speaking. “Would you have stayed there all night?”

You lick your chapped lips, trying to soothe them, and turn to him finally. “What do you want me to say? Yes? No?”

He tilts his head, blue eyes peering intently at you. “I want you to answer. Would you have stayed there all night?”

“Yes. Is that a bad thing?”

Now he turns away from you, peering out to the cars whisking people away. He tilts his head to and fro as if weighing the possibilities. “Chase's was a coma patient- he didn’t make it one hour. Foreman had a skin graft receiver and made it to 6 PM. Cameron stayed til 9 with a cancerous woman.” He turns back to you, and your breath catches in your throat. “You stayed, until told otherwise. Is it an obedience thing?”

“What, like a dog?”

“Exactly.”

Infuriating. Anger rises up in you like a wave and you tame it. You roll your eyes. “No.”

“What was it then?”

You huff and watch as the air billows out in front of you in a cold cloud. “I thought that maybe I was wrong. Maybe you actually had a reason for me to monitor him, rather than to punish me or to test me. Apparently,” You gaze into his eyes. “Not everything you do is trustworthy. Lesson learnt.”

He nods in satisfaction as if you had solved his master plan. “Do you need a lift?”

You blink and your eyebrows cinch towards each other, but he doesn’t repeat himself. There’s a sudden stillness between the two of you as if you’re both holding your breaths as you await your own reply. It’s the soft, fuzzy charge before the electric zap of static. Your anger ripples below the surface, but electricity begins to crackle above it.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, House.”

“Why? Do you think cripples can’t drive, or is it something else?”

Cracked out of your shell. Pushed. Poked.

You breathe out shallowly. “It’s something else.”

“Which is?” His eyes don’t stray from yours.

“I don’t trust myself.”

There were so many unsaid things at the end of that sentence. I don't trust myself- not to yell at him. Not to hit him. Not to grab him by the collar and kiss him until you pass out. By the way his eyes darken, you reckon he knows why you don't trust yourself; now you're certain he knew the reason for your embarrassment after your last car ride together.

You clear your throat, and finally look away from him, breaking the building static. He pauses for a moment and stares at you. If you look in your peripheral, you swear you can see the thoughts racing through his head.

But then he pivots from you, and his cane clacks against the concrete as he walks away.

It snows for the first time in the whole dreary winter that night. After the taxi has dropped you home, you stay sipping water in your kitchen, too scared to go to sleep and see his face in your dreams again.

[opalesense]

oh my god Your 'a sight to behold' work was mhmfmmsmamzx, i love it. im sosososoossosoo curious as to what graphic details you have in mind 😏

lose control

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW)

3.5k words • ~22 min. read

summary: a part two to this where the boys are unable to fight their urges when they see you helplessly stuck in a wall.

warnings: slight dubcon, choking, cunnilingus, facefucking, a bit of zhongli favoritism oops!

notes: omg hehehe thank youu i’m so glad you liked it <3 i wrote it at 2AM and was so surprised it turned out decently well for my fuzzy brain HAHA anyway as for the graphic details... i only left them out originally because i wasn’t sure if anon wanted straight up full nsfw or not >////< but since you asked you shall receive... <3

zhongli

 Zhongli effortlessly took the rocks off of you, waiting and watching your slight movements for a few moments before your eyes finally fluttered open. A throbbing pain in your temple sent one of your hands to gently massage it, making you wince quietly in pain. “Zhongli...”

 “This is the result of carelessness and insufficient planning,” he crossed his arms and studied your curves as he calmly scolded you. “Next time, let me take the lead.”

 As you laid there massaging your head, his eyes traced up and down your body, fixating on the way your legs were helplessly spread in front of him, parted in such a way that he knew he would fit perfectly if he sat between them. Following that train of thought, he uncrossed his arms and slowly climbed on the bed of rocks, letting his body hover over you and supporting his weight with a hand planted above your head.

 His free hand crept up your shirt, pulling it up in the process. The way he suddenly exposed your torso made you gasp and simultaneously wince again from the sudden movements. You weakly placed a hand on his forearm, initially in instinctual protest but then relaxing as you knew this was not just some stranger from the outside, but a man you trusted. “Z-Zhongli, what are you-“

 “Checking for injuries, of course,” he lied with a coy smile which made you softly giggle. His hand slowly caressed your bare hips and waist, noticing the way your skin formed goosebumps at his touch. You watched as his gloved fingers hovered over your bruises and scrapes, making their way up your torso then finally pulling your bra up to reveal your breasts. You swore you could hear the hunger in his low growl as his eyes were desperately fixated on your half naked body.

 “Zhongli, at least take me home first–“ you attempted to speak up but he interrupted you by wrapping his hand around your throat, applying pressure while his knee wedged itself in the empty spot between your legs. As you choked, you finally got a good look at his face. The amicable yet stoic expression Zhongli usually had was replaced with something more sinister, more lustful. With heavily breaths and shaky hands, you could sense he was getting needier by the second.

 “Right now?” you managed to whisper as you stared into his glowing amber eyes. Unable to form coherent words now, all he could do was press his forehead against yours and let his lips quiver as he fought the thoughts that flooded his mind. He knew he shouldn’t do this. He knew he should help you get home and ensure that your wellbeing is secured. A war raged on inside his head, the logical side of him trying to fight his urges, but he knew he couldn’t uphold this for long. His body couldn’t help but latch onto yours, grinding against you in desperation. You two didn’t need to say much to each other to know when Zhongli was craving you like this. Looking down at his knee slowly rubbing against you, you already knew what was going to happen. From the sight of you so vulnerable under him, your legs spread out in a perfect position for him to take you, all he wanted to do in this moment was chase his release. And yes, he needed to do it now.

 You tilted your chin up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, slightly catching him off guard. He let go of your throat as he gave you another short kiss back, letting out what sounded like a whimper once he pulled his face away. You sighed contently as you glanced down at his growing bulge. “Well, make it quick, okay? Then we can continue this at home–“

 Immediately after hearing your approval, Zhongli wasted no time to lean down and wrap his lips on one of your nipples, immediately biting and sucking, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the sensation. He simultaneously freed his already hardened cock from his pants, slowly pumping it with his hand and letting out a low groan, sending vibrations to your nipple. You whimpered in pleasure, instinctively trying to pin your knees together in an attempt at modesty which only squeezed him closer to you.

 He let go of your nipple and lifted himself up, now standing in front of you and slowly pumping his cock as he looked down at the sight of your lewd position. “Please tell me if this is too much,” he managed to tell you before he lifted one hand towards a boulder and crushed it into a peculiar shape with one swift movement.

 Before you could process why he was now hovering the large rock over your body, you felt the earth rumble below you and push you upwards, straightening your spine as if you were laying on a table. Your legs began to dangle off the edge of the newly made platform as he locked you in place with the boulder he had shaped, which you noticed had a space carved into it only large enough for your waist to be pinned down. It was all adding up now as he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you closer to him, ensuring that you couldn’t escape his cleverly built trap.

 Lifting your knees over his shoulders and pulling your underwear to the side, you felt his erection prod your slick entrance before he slowly pushed himself inside of your cunt, groaning in pleasure as he grabbed ahold of your thighs for stability. He began to rock his hips back and forth immediately, leaving you breathlessly moaning at the little time you had to adjust to his size.

 “Only you make me feel this way,” he muttered as his grip on your thighs tightened. He leaned forward to pound into you at a better angle, his hips slamming into yours with each powerful thrust. “Only you can make me lose control of myself so easily...”

childe

 “...I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead.”

Childe’s words echoed in your head as he yanked your underwear down and firmly gripped your ass, spreading your folds apart and making you shiver at the sudden exposure. You tried to wiggle your way out of the pile of rocks in protest, but that only pushed you further into his grasp, making him laugh at your pathetic attempt to escape. You didn’t want to admit that this was slowly turning you on, but looking down at the damp stain in your underwear, Childe knew regardless.

 “You make it so easy for me,” he traced a finger over your already wet folds, eliciting a whimper from your throat. “You make it so easy for me to conquer you and remind you that you’re mine to play with.”

 Even though you weren’t eager to get toyed around with, given the current circumstances of being completely locked in with nowhere to go, you weren’t completely opposed either. You couldn’t help but mewl at the feeling of Childe suddenly pushing one gloved finger inside of your trembling cunt, slowly curling his digit to massage your walls. “At least... take me home first...” you whined cutely, he thought.

 “Why should I when you’re already enjoying yourself here?” he pulled his finger out momentarily only to push back in with two fingers, “Look how wet you are when we’ve only just begun...”

 Childe could hardly contain himself either, but he didn’t want to verbally admit it. If only you could see how hard he was getting by the second just by staring at your vulnerable holes and the way your underwear hung around your knees, or the tiny squirming of your legs when he pushed the right spots inside you. If only you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together, breath stuttering as he fantasized about railing you into next year in this position, fucking you into the wall for hours until you cried for him to stop.

 But for now, he decided he’d show you some mercy and make it quick. As he used his free hand to unbuckle his pants and unsheath his cock, he was determined to hear your screams echo around the walls of the cavern first before letting you go. “Hold still for me, okay? It’s not like you can go anywhere, anyway,” he chuckled then pulled his fingers out to grip your ass and position himself behind you, “I’ll make you feel so good...”

 “Childe, wait–!” was all you could say before moaning in ecstacy as he began to drive his cock into your aching hole, each inch pushing apart your walls so deliciously that he couldn’t help but moan too. He stayed still for a moment, bottomed out inside of you, head pressed up against the rocks as he relished in the feeling of you clamping around his cock. But before you could relax and bask in the delightful feeling of being stuffed full, he squeezed your ass with both hands and began pounding into you with no second thought.

 Whatever pain you might have had before was surely gone by his penetration alone. He knew how good he was screwing you by the way you whimpered out his name in between moans, or the way you subtly pressed up against him with the limited movement you had, matching his rhythm. “You better pray that I don’t lose control and fuck you here until the sun rises,” he said with a dubious smirk that you wish you could’ve seen, “But I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

diluc

 To say Diluc was nervous as his eyes were pinned on your thighs rubbing together was an understatement. He could feel himself getting more aroused by the second, staring at your underwear and noticing a subtle wet stain that had developed beforehand. Your words were completely drowned out in his mind. All he could focus on was resisting his urges and maintaining his composure like a true gentleman.

 But surely a gentleman could be a little self indulgent now and then, right? Especially since you were tempting him so badly wiggling around like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing this to him on purpose.

 He took a few steps closer to the wall and adjusted his gloves before reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie. “Could you repeat that again for me, dear?” he tilted his head as he gathered his long strands into a ponytail, never taking his eyes off of your glistening skin.

 You happily obliged, listening to him kneel down behind you, assuming he was just picking up another rock. “I was just saying how – Diluc?”

 Your assumption couldn’t possibly be more wrong. He interrupted you by pulling your underwear down to your thighs, licking his lips as his hungry gaze traced your wet folds, imagining what your face must look like by how he took you by surprise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he fantasized about you, the straps of your underwear still wrapped around his fingers to keep his hands on you no matter how much you squirmed underneath him.

 He leaned down to press a sweet kiss on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you in response. Smirking, he stuck out his tongue and began slowly tracing the wet muscle around your folds, savoring your taste and savoring the sweet moans you gave him at the same time. “Keep making those pretty sounds, my love,” he whispered, his hot breath against your cunt driving you crazy.

 His slow and sensual kisses on your cunt was only the start of his feast. Each kiss was accompanied with small circles he rubbed into your thighs with his thumbs and low periodic groans that sent vibrations through his tongue, making you whimper in ecstacy. But as much as he loved taking things slow and steady, he wanted to hear you cry out his name. He wanted to see how far he could take you to the edge by his control alone. He wanted to make those pretty legs tremble violently under his touch.

 In one swift motion, he began to prod his tongue against your entrance, stretching your folds by drawing circles with his eager muscle. If only the rocks weren’t holding you down along with his hands pressing your thighs into place, you surely would have been thrashing around at the way he teased you with his tongue alone. Slowly, he began to extend his tongue into you more, inching his face closer to your aching hole and stopping once his nose met your skin. The sensation of his tongue gently quivering inside you made you melt, even more so when he started to fuck you at a steady pace with his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in your taste.

 Soon, his movements started to reflect how hungry he really was for you. He bobbed his head steadily, stifling his moans so he could listen to yours. He took one hand off of your thigh to gently rub your clit with his thumb, still fucking you with his tongue and making you subtly rock your hips back and forth to match his rhythm. It hadn’t even been very long since he laid his hands on you, but your body couldn’t help but react to how worked up he was making you.

 And of course, he would notice these reactions. Your shaky rhythm against his was an indicator to hold you down firmly and quicken his pace, and surely enough, the heat in your core was starting to build up. You buried your head in the rocks, flustered and blushing more than you ever had before. “D-Diluc...! More... more, please!”

 When he pulled his tongue out, you figured he was just going to be mean to you and deny your orgasm but you were pleasantly mistaken. To your surprise, after a moment of rustling as he took one of his gloves off, he pushed two fingers inside of your needy hole and began to hit your sweet spot immediately as he fingered you, almost as if he had memorized what makes you cry out in pleasure. His eager lips began to suck on your clit as well, his heart set on making you cum on his fingers.

 Soon enough, you couldn’t contain it anymore. Your legs quivered as you reached your peak, your mewling and whining sadly muffled by the rocks but loud enough for him to hear you clearly enough. The sound of his name being echoed throughout the cavern as your orgasm exploded on his bare fingers was enough to make his cock throb. With heavy, warm breaths, he pulled his face and fingers away from you to let you calm down from your climax, his face flushed red and nose shining from your wetness. “So beautiful... I can never get enough of you, [Y/N].”

 You whined as he slowly let go of your thigh after giving you one last kiss on your sensitive clit. He licked his lips once more, lapping up all your wetness and wiping the excess that had dribbled down on his chin with his sleeve. With a chuckle, he stood up and placed his hands back on your ass, squeezing your curves and pressing his hips against yours. His clothed bulge fit so perfectly between your cheeks, snuggling comfortably in your wetness to leave a stain on his pants. He grinded himself into you even more at the sight of this, teasing you just for the fun of it. “Don’t worry love, we’re not going anywhere just yet...”

kaeya

 “Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

 Kaeya’s hands travelled from massaging your scalp to scaling up your jaw, one thumb tracing your bottom lip gently asking to let him in. You pouted stubbornly, losing your patience – you had been stuck here for a while and wanted to get out, after all. “Quit running–“

 But alas, he used this moment to stick his thumb inside your mouth, letting the pad of his finger massage your tongue. He let out a hum of satisfaction as your eyes softened, slowly submitting to his touch. “You’re being awfully defiant to the one person who can get you out of here. I ought to teach that naughty mouth of yours a lesson while I claim my prize, hm?”

 This man never knows when to shut up, a voice in your head complained. But admittedly, the way he stared at your mouth so longingly had your core light up a tiny bit. You whined in response at first, looking down (or up?) at his thumb disappearing inside your mouth then deciding it would be best to comply. With a small hum you opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue stick out as your eyes darted to meet his. He grinned contently, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to pull his cock out of his pants. No matter how many times you’ve seen his length, you never understood how he managed to fit himself inside you.

 “Good girl,” he tucked his hand under your neck to offer support as he pressed his tip against your awaiting tongue. He started rocking his hips slightly just to tease you, grinning evilly as he stared down at your eyes. “You’re so cute like this. So vulnerable and eager to please whenever I want you...”

 He began to slowly push himself into your mouth, letting out a groan of relief as he buried himself inch by inch. You sputtered a bit at first, not completely used to his length just yet, but secretly he loved whenever you choked on his cock. He let you ride out your choking a bit more as he nearly bottomed out, watching as your throat slowly relaxed around his bulge.

 His other free hand found its way on your cheek, caressing it as he started to rock his hips back and forth very slowly, basking in the feeling of your throat clamped around his cock. “Such a good girl, making me feel so good whenever I want... You’re doing very well, sweetheart,” he quietly praised, opting to listen to your muffled whimpering whenever he pushed in.

 A bit of restlessness started to kick in after awhile of fucking your mouth so slowly, and with a naughty smirk, Kaeya took both hands to grip both sides of your head. He started to thrust into your mouth at a quicker pace, occasionally pulling out to give you a breath of air only to bury himself in your throat again. He found himself unable to contain his moans at this point, letting his sweet, raspy praises for you ring through your ears. Your legs started to twitch in excitement the more he praised you for being so obedient and good for him that despite your initial defiance, you hoped he would take care of your needs later.

 Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers running across your scalp then suddenly taking a tight grip on your head as he fucked your brains out quite literally. He began to get lost in the feeling, ignoring your pleas for air as you tapped his thigh repeatedly through tears. Even when he snapped back to his senses for a moment to pull out, he whined desperately as he quickly pushed himself back in, wanting to chase his orgasm so badly using your mouth.

 “S-So good for me... I’m gonna...! F-Fuck, no..!” Kaeya quickly and quite nervously pulled himself out of you, leaving you immediately coughing and gagging in your own spit and his precum. He grunted in frustration, leaving you confused and concerned as you continued to choke for air. He suddenly tucked his cock back into his pants haphazardly and went straight back to work on getting the rocks off of you.

 “W-What was that all about? Are you waiting until we get home or something?” your voice was clearly defeated as you watched him work. He only glanced back at you for a moment before chuckling and pulling one specific rock out of the pile to send the rest tumbling down, finally revealing your trembling body, exposed in all of its glory. You gasped in a mixture of relief and excitement as he hungrily climbed on top of you and pulled you towards him so your head wouldn’t hang off the edge anymore. You giggled at how disheveled and horny he evidently was, his movements ragged and needy. Who could blame him for looking so desperate when he was staring up and down your vulnerable body, waiting to devour you like a hungry beast?

 His hands worked with urgency as he ripped your underwear off and unsheathed his cock again, manhandling your hips to meet his. You gasped as he quickly pushed himself inside of your cunt and began pounding into you mercilessly, not letting you adjust to his size since you were already so aroused for him anyway. Your cute whimpers and gasps made him even more feral, and it was at this point that he decided to lean down and whisper the answer to your question earlier.

 “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t just wait until we get home, I need to be inside you right now...”

[junisfics]

teacher's pet* — eren jaeger

eren jaeger x puppy! reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut / nsfw 18 + (mirrors, slight pet play, corruption kink, humiliation, mentions of f! masturbation)

notes: i was going to write a full length hard core pet play fic but i ended up running out of time so here's a little blurb :)

eren had your back to his chest as you both sat on the floor. your legs were spread out and up and over his thighs so you couldn't even close them if you tried.

you were squirming against his chest and the hard on pressing into your back, eyes squeezing shut because in front of you was a giant, full body mirror.

with only a skimpy tank top on, eren had you blushing and writhing in front of this mirror without even laying a finger on you. you felt so exposed, so vunerable.

you had walked to his dorm, just down the hall from yours, pushed open his door real quietly and tip toed into his room all sheepishly.

"eren," you had said, with your voice all tiny and submissive, "can you help me?"

and without even asking you what you needed help with, eren had said yes. you're his sweet little girlfriend; so dependent on him, so needy for him... of course he'd help you.

but he wasn't expecting you to tell him, with your eyes to the floor and fiddling with your fingers, "can't get off"

now, eren knew you were a virgin... you told him. and it was quite obvious. the way you trembled and moaned at the gentlest brushes of his fingers or lips, the way your hips stuttered when you got a good feel of his hard on. he thought it was the cutest thing.

but what he didn't know, is that you've never gotten yourself off before.

you've played with yourself, teased yourself, stuffed your little fingers inside your cunt until you were a shaky mess. but you could never bring yourself to an orgasm.

and tonight was all the same.

you were in your dorm, your own one at that, laid out onto your bed with your little hand shoved down your panties, two fingers curling inside you while you bit down on your other hand to muffle your moans.

and you were sure you were gonna do it this time, you were so sure of it!

but as quickly as your high climbed, your poor hand got tired just as fast. and you were a hot and bothered, frustrated mess when you explained to him what happened.

you told him that you've never came before, that you've never gotten to the best part.

and it made erens cock throb in his pants.

so, when he grabbed ahold of your hips and sat you down in front of the mirror, peeling your panties down your legs, he was determined to make you cum. he needed to feel you cream around his fingers for your very first time.

"look at you. so pretty for me, hm?" he mumbles, head tilted down so he can speak against your ear.

you had turned your head away from the reflective glass, vision narrowed as you buried the side of your head into his chest. every so often your eyes flit to the side to catch a glance of you all spread out for him, but they returned just as fast.

"c'mon, be a good girl 'n look for me." one of the hands around your waist slid up your chest to grab ahold of your chin, turning it gently to bring your eyes to the mirror.

his other hand tickles at the skin below your navel, sending waves of goosebumps over your exposed flesh.

"'s embarassing." you whine, eyes darting to the plush grey carpet on the floor beside you.

eren presses a gentle kiss to your hair, "no it's not, puppy. it's to help teach you."

"you gonna be a good girl 'n watch for me? watch me finger your cunt nice and good so you can learn how to do it yourself?" the hand against your stomach slides a little lower, teasing just above your clit, "'m not always gonna be here to do it for you."

you know that. you know that, physically, eren won't always be around to take care of you the way you really need it. so, you let your eyes skim over the carpet and inch up the glass of the mirror

"that's my girl," he says, voice low and velvety and dripping with sensuality, "if you take your eyes off yourself... i'll stop."

both of you were aching with anticipation. you just wanted him to treat you, finger you how you need it until you're cumming around his digits. you need that release, you need it from him.

and eren was desperate to have you writhing in his grasp, choking out moans for him as you gush for the very first time, and all over his fingers.

his fingers brush over your clit real soft, circling it slowly. he can hear your breath hitch, your little hands coming to the forearm that still has a hold on your chin. you were so sensitive, all fidgety in front of him and your body growing even hotter at his touch.

“eren —“ you speak no louder than a whisper, just enough for him to hear you.

he lets his hand fall from your chin to the bottom hem of your shirt, dipping up and under it and teasing the soft skin under your right breast. you jerked a little at the sensation.

“this alright?” he mumbles. you can feel his lips turn into a smirk against your ear.

you nod, quickly and desperately, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle another whine. you realize then, that your gaze has shifted away from the  mirror. your head had fallen forward once he released your head and you were watching his fingers tease at you.

“head up,” he says, like he could read your thoughts. 

you bring your head up, your cheek brushing against his jaw as you rest back onto his shoulder. in the mirror, you see his fingers begin to slide lower, sliding through the slick arousal that’s gathered against your hot skin.

“you this wet for me?” he chuckles, sliding the tips of his fingers through your heat.

his comment makes your face and neck grow warm, crinkling your nose, legs attempting to close. but his own are in the way and preventing you from doing so.

“eren, this is humiliating,” you mutter, backing farther up into his chest like you were trying to escape. but you knew you weren’t. you were too riled up, to desperate for him to fill you.

“take a lick, puppy.” he teases, bringing his hand away from your cunt and up to your face.

you turn your head into his neck, eyes only flitting to his fingers for brief seconds to look at the creamy slick that’s gathered on his fingertips. you look up to him, eyes wide.

“be a good girl ‘n get my fingers nice and wet for you.” he smiles, looking down at you.

hesitantly, and eager to please, you turn back to his hand. you take his wrist in both of your much smaller hands and bring his hand forth towards your mouth. sticking your tongue out, you slide two of his glistening fingers inside your mouth.

you taste yourself on his skin, slightly bitter and tarte, and let his fingers press against the soft of your tongue to coat them in your saliva. he tells you to open your mouth as he pulls them out, to avoid your lips, and they leave your tongue with a slimey string of saliva in their wake.

the spit drips off his fingers and down your stomach before his hand reaches your center again. they’re warm, and wet from your tongue when they tease your entrance. eren can feel your cunt flutter against his fingertips.

“fuck baby —” he mutters, beginning to tease his middle finger inside, “oh god.”

your hands return to his forearm, the one that has a hand now palming at your breast, and etch your blunt nails into the sinew there.

“please, please,” your breath catches in your throat again, voice getting all shaky as he slides in just a little more and a little more until he’s two knuckles deep.

you’re so tight around him, squeezing his single digit so well. every shift of his hand has your cunt pulsing around his knuckles. 

“jesus fuck, ‘can feel you.” 

when his finger is to it’s hilt, he has it stay there for a little. he only moves it to curl it against your gummy walls and press against your sweet spot real gently. it has you keening.

“eren,” you whimper, your legs beginning to tremble over his own.

it was pathetic. he was only a finger deep inside you and you were falling apart, crumbling into a stupid mess before him.

his hand on your breast shifts upwards, his fingers grazing over your raised nipple and sending your head falling back against his collarbone. your back was arching into his dualty touches, your ass grinding against his hard cock.

“need more, please.” you beg with a breathy moan

you’ve lost all care towards memorizing his actions for later. because never, never ever, would you be able to possibly come close to replicating the pleasure he’s making you feel right now.

he slides his finger out of you, relishing the cries that leave your lips as he does so. then, he slips it back in real easily. you’re sucking him back in, clenching around him and begging for more.

he starts with languid pumps of that one finger, pairing it with dirty praises against your ear as you tremble and shake in his arms. your stomach was twisting so deliciously in pleasure; at an intensity you’ve never felt before.

he was skilled with his actions, you don’t even care if he’s done them a million times before, because the way his was making you feel right now had you so on edge. you thought you’d explode.

and then, as he pulls back out once more, he returns with another finger.

“oh my god.” your legs clamp around his own.

eren can feel your stomach tense up as he fills you even more. he can feel your breathing grow ragged and the volume of your cries become careless.

“fuck, you’re close aren’t you, puppy?” he asks. his tongue slips past his lips to lick at the skin of your neck, covered in a sheen of sweat.

“eren! i — i’m —“ your mouth falls open, legs thrashing around.

“fuck yeah, cum for me.” he mumbles, hand on your breast sliding farther up your shirt to grab your chin again, turning your head to him and taking your lips in his with a sloppy kiss.

it was messy, you gushed all over his fingers and hand and fuzzy carpet. you moaned into his mouth, his hot tongue licking against your own and the roof of you mouth. your body was spasming in his arms, ass grinding up against him as he rode through his own orgasm.

just from watching you, from watching your pretty little cunt squeeze his fingers and leak all over him, he came in thick hot spurts and all in his pants.

JUNISFICS © 2021

[alltoolewis]

Can I have number 12 with Ben Chilwell please x

12)“I firmly believe there’s no better way to start the day than with some nice morning sex.” ~ben Chilwell

Summary- Ben waking you in the morning with a little bit of an issue...

Warning- 18+, Smut, nipple play, fingering, daddy kink, spit kink

"Baby..... babe" Ben nudges you as you stir slightly, clearly tired from your eventful night. Last night was the annual start of the season dinner, where all players/staff and there partners attend a late evening dinner to relax and enjoy before the busy season ahead. However, you and ben obviously forgot about the 'relaxing' part as alcohol was passed round, shots after shots.. so there so was no surprise to when you returned back to hotel later that night that clothes would be flying round the room, as you filled the room with lust and love, clearly disturbing some of the older staff as they banged on the wall, however you and ben didn’t care.. to filled up with lust and alcohol to notice... however that was all gone the next morning...

“Babbyyyyy....” He continued to groan down your ear, the morning wood he has endured from staring at your bare chest getting unbearable as he continued to nudge and prod you. “What!” you groaned, rolling over to see his discomfort “Ben! its too early! wake me up in an hour” You mumbled, rolling over on your chest, covers slipping further down your body as your whole body was visible... 

“Nahhhh” he giggled, pulling your tired self over him, moaning slightly as he felt how wet you still were, even after last night “You got me into this mess.. you can get me out of it!” “How did I get you into this!” you argued “If I remember you have control of mini chilwell down there not me!” Trying to remove your self of the needy star...

“Excuse me” he laughed, pulling you back into him, leaning up to give you a much needed kiss  “ If I can say that both of those statements are incorrect!” Flipping you over it was bens turn to climb on top of your slowly aroused body.. “1) You Know full well that he is not ’mini’” Ben mumbled as he took one your breast in his mouth, skilful hands gently pulling your legs apart, allowing him to slip a finger into you, feeling how wet you have become just from his words. “Wasn’t calling him little last night was you” He leaned down kissing behind your ear as he entered another finger in you, skilfully filling you up as you moaned into his neck. 

“Fuck ben” You moaned as you lifted your hips to meet his fingers. However, he stopped his movement, flipping you back over, he removed his fingers from your pussy, leaning down to your ear. “That’s not my name baby” he whispered down your ear, lifting your chin so you glance into his lust washed eyes... “What's my name!” voice filled with seriousness as he grabbed onto your chin, drool slightly leaving your mouth as you watched the scene. Leaning down ben dragged his tounge across your chin, catching all your salvia that falls down, “Daddy” You moan, grabbing on to his sweat filled hair, flipping you back over, as you locked your lips with his. 

“Fuck baby.. I can’t wait any longer” he moaned, into your needy mouth, lifting your leg once again, to feel the wetness that has gathered from your foreplay. Slowly, you sunk on top him, both of your heads falling back as the familiar warmth fills you. It felt like Deja-vu all over again, moans and curse words slipping careless out of your mouths as the only sound that could be heard was the sound love. The bed frame rocking the wall again, as he flipped you both over again, wanting to feel you in a completely different angle he thrusted into you as quick as a Mercedes!  Your hands gripping onto his back as the pleasure washed over you. 

“I can’t hold it for much longer” you moaned arching your back, as he continued to drill inside you. Making you mark as you fingers, scratched his back knowing full well he was in for a lot of teasing from the lads later on. “cum for me baby! let go!”

Without any more persuading you both let go, grabbing on to his hand as stars wash your vision. Feeling him fill you up, was a feeling you never wanted to forget! His fresh cum drips down your leg as he pulls out you, gently gathering a collection of your combination, and dropping into his mouth as he leant down, allowing you taste the combo yourself he gave you a gentle but passionate kiss, both of you moaning as you tasted the conclusion of the eventful morning the two of you just shared! 

“I firmly believe there’s no better way to start the day than with some nice morning sex.” ben moaned, pulling apart to take in your tired state, loving the sight of your messed up hair and swollen lips. “I agree”  You giggled, finally getting the courage to push ben off you, and pull your tired body into the bathroom... 

popping your head back into the bedroom, looking at ben’s confused face at the reason you were so quick to get out of bed..... “Want to help me clean up?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry VIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, abuse of power, these men ain't shit.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Lord Barnes goes over the edge.

Note: Well, I hope you guys enjoy... it gets intense.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

As the tune wore on, your jaunt was not so fun as Lord Barnes circled the boards like a wolf. He caught your eye between the bodies of dancers and his scowl assured you of your error.

You hadn’t thought a dance would be so offensive. It was innocent. You thought it would be more remiss to ignore the attendees around you and draw suspicion to yourself as an outlier.

You were wrong. Again.

You found yourself stumbling as the song finally ended and you righted yourself as you came face to face with Peter. You did your best to muster a smile and your voice, “I fear I drank too much wine, my lord, I should be in need of relief.”

He grinned in humour and bowed his head, “as you will,” he stepped aside, “if you return and require a partner, I’ll be here, likely in a more dire need for the same.”

“Thank you but I would spare your toes for the tournament,” you said, “pardon.”

You looked around as you delved into the crowd. Lord Barnes was by the doors, intent on you as he pointed over his shoulder and raised a brow. His jaw was tense with his distaste and for a moment, he looked past you to the boy who you’d just been twirling with. He turned and left the feast hall and you scurried to follow. The longer he waited, the worse his wrath would be.

You reached the doors and dove out into the corridor. It was colder than the hall, empty and shadowed as lines of flame limned the stones. You looked back and forth but did not see Lord Barnes. Your lips parted in confusion as you spun.

Had he left you entirely? This could be your chance… his anger might have led to the exact carelessness you needed to elude him. You set off down the corridor, though you had no sense of where the exit would be, and your slippers slapped on the floor.

At the first corner, you were stopped suddenly and nearly wrenched entirely off your feet. You were swept into the next hallway and slammed against the wall so that the breath was knocked entirely from you.

You stared up in fear at Lord Barnes as he dragged you along the stone and pushed you into an alcove, your feet leaving the floor as your shoulders were crushed between the frame.

“My lord, I was only just looking for--”

“Do not lie to me,” he hissed, “first you would dance with a stranger, a man who is not me, and then you would attempt to flee at my absence.”

“No, no,” you pleaded.

“Yes,” his hand went to your throat and he shoved you against the back of the alcove, your legs dangling as you were perched in it, “you would and now you would lie to me.”

“Please, I did not know where you went--” you gurgled as his fingers tightened and your eyes bulged out painfully as tears gathered along your lashes.

“I did not want it to be like this,” he spat, “I…” his chest rose and fell as he puffed with anger, “I wanted…” he turned his head as he struggled to contain himself, “I wanted it to be different.”

He stepped closer so that he was flush to you, holding you in the alcove as he stood between your legs. His hand slipped down to your bodice and crawled over the embroidered satin. He tugged mercilessly at your skirts until you felt the cool air against your legs. You squirmed and whimpered in fear.

“What are you--”

“Quiet before I choke the words from you,” he snarled.

He pushed his hand under your shift as it bunched beneath your skirt. His fingertips grazed roughly along your cunt and prodded against your entrance. His trespass was sudden and painful. You cried out and he quickly muffled your voice as he crashed his lips into yours.

He forced another finger inside of you as you were crammed painfully into the alcove, there were several along the corridor, most decorated with some statue or vessel. His fingers moved in and out of you. It hurt as he sank to his knuckles and pulled back only to ram them back in. It was as if he wanted to hurt you.

“Sweeting,” his lips dragged across your cheek as you turned your face away from him, “I did wait… too long… you forget your...place.”

He tore his hand from you sharply and his nails scratched your thigh. He fumbled with the front of his breeches and wiggled his hips as he freed his length from the layers. You writhed and grabbed at the frame of the alcove as panic crept up your spin.

“Please, no, no,” you begged, “Lord Barnes, please--”

“Quiet!” he growled again, “be quiet.”

You whined as you felt his smooth tip against your folds. You clawed at his shoulders and squeezed him between your legs helplessly but you could not push him away. He slid his pulsing head down your cunt and you kicked the wall desperately. He lined himself up with your entrance and lingered there.

He raised his head and his eyes bore into you hotly, “look at me,” he whispered and you shook your head, “I said look at me!” His voice rose and you snapped your head towards him. You peered up at him as your lip quivered and your eyes watered. He thrust into you in a single, agonizing motion.

You exclaimed and his hand rose swiftly to cover your mouth. He moved his hips carefully and rocked your body in the tight alcove. You clenched his left arm, the fake one, and slowly he built his speed, each tilt coming sooner and deeper than the last. Each making your muscles tighten and sending waves of pain through every inch of flesh and bone.

“I didn’t want this,” he said again, “not like this,” he grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his cheek to yours, “you did this. You.”

“No, no, no,” you trembled, “I didn’t--”

His fingertips pinched your neck and you moaned as he continued to hammer against your walls. You began to sob as you couldn’t bare the torture of it. Your fingers curled around his shoulders as you tried to urge him to slow down but he only sped up.

You could hear the distant music around the corner and the gale voices of the dancers. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back as he jolted your body in the alcove. His groans filled your ears and seeped deep into your soul. He dipped his head down onto your shoulder and pounded into you until your hips felt they would shatter.

He stammered and his motion stuttered. He tugged at the back of your hood as he spasmed and a warmth erupted inside of you. He stilled and wiggled his hips until you winced. He heaved and slipped out of you with a twitch. He pulled the kerchief from his pocket and kept his mess from leaking down his breeches as your skirts fluttered back down to your ankles.

You fell out of the alcove to your feet and your legs collapsed. You landed in a heap of satin as his seed trickled out between your thighs. You were revolted by the sickly sensation. You hung your head and blotted your tears with your sleeves.

He grabbed your elbow and lifted you to your feet. He looked you over before he fixed your hood and your skirts. He tutted and straightened your right sleeve. He stepped back and peered down the hall.

“We will be missed,” he said, “we should return.”

“My lord, I--” you gulped as he glanced at you meanly.

“Go and dance with your boy,” he sneered, “but you will remember,” he spread his hands over the front of your skirts and gripped you through the fabric, his fingers bent between your legs, “who you belong to.”

He ripped his hand away and shoved you down the next corridor. You caught yourself against the wall as the slickness continued to drip down your legs.

“Go ahead of me, I will wait so that it is not conspicuous,” he ordered.

You didn’t look back at him as you nodded and walked on. You neared the door and pulled back the hem of your skirts. His seed leaked along the trim and stained the fabric. You let go of your skirts and marched forward into the din.

As you saw Peter, you made yourself smile, but it was just as hollow as you were.

🏰

Your first dance with a boy, that was supposed to be a happy occasion. It was soured by your first intimate encounter with a man. Your entire body was corrupted by his intrusion and your mind was his captive. You could think of nothing but him and what he’d done.

That night when you retired, Lord Barnes led you back to his chambers and took you a second time. That time, he laid you down and fucked you until you screamed. When he was done, you rolled over but it wasn’t long before he pushed you flat and sated his whims again.

That last time, he did not leave you. He stayed inside of you and slept atop you. You just stared unseeingly at the canopy. You didn’t weep or whimper or whine. Your being was numb though your body was wrought.

When he woke, you knew only by the roll of his hips. As he began again, you closed your eyes and focused on breathing. It ended and he climbed off of you. You murmured as he left you tender and raw. You didn’t move as he sat on the edge of the bed and huffed. You listened dumbly as he relieved himself in the pot.

“You forced my hand,” he said evenly, “all you had to do was behave. I…” he washed himself briskly from the basin with a cloth, “I did want it to be nice for you. I wanted to be nice to you,” he began to rant and tossed aside the cloth, “I wanted everything for you, sweeting, but you have only met my love with blatant disregard. You are ungrateful and unkind to me and I will not bear it any longer. So I shall be the same until you can learn to treat me otherwise.”

There was no point in arguing. “My lord,” you conceded and blinked away the tears.

“You should wash yourself,” he bid, “and--”

He was interrupted by a knock. He looked at the door in detest then back to you. He raised a brow and found his robe hanging from the knob of the wardrobe. He covered himself and snapped his fingers at you.

“Cover yourself and don’t move,” he commanded as he went to the door and the pounding came again.

“Barnes,” a deep voice called, “you will be late. My armourer will not wait on you--”

Barnes swore under his breath and steeled himself. He opened the door, just slightly and looked out. “Your majesty.”

“What, no golden carpet to welcome me? Not even a bow?” the king chuckled, “oh do let me in, I’ve seen worse parts of you.”

“Steve--”

“Rogers I did send ahead of us to warn Stark of your late coming. We broke our fast for full an hour waiting on you.”

The man pushed inside without invitation and Barnes could only step back and watch him. King Samuel, the regent you’d only ever heard rumours of, stood before you in pinched scarlet satin and gold lace. He stopped short as he spied your face above the coverlet and his surprise quickly turned to a wry smirk.

“I see,” he said coolly as he faced the duke, “well, I require no apology, the excuse is good enough.”

“I’ll dress and meet you there--”

“Ah,” King Samuel raised his hand to hush the lord and he turned to you again, “my lady, I am unfamiliar with you. Granted, I’ve been presented with so many of my nobles these last weeks I swear I’ve met many of them three times over and not known it.”

“She is of a lower house, hardly significant--”

“Oh, but I care little for her lineage, she is a prize indeed,” he leaned on the bedpost and eyed the outline of your finger beneath the blankets, “shapely…”

“My sister would surely delight in those words,” Barnes snipped sharply.

“My wife does know I am loyal regardless of my empty words,” he did not look away from you, “my lady, I understand you do not rise out of modesty. It is, however, a pleasure even so, to make your acquaintance.”

“Your majesty,” you answered in a dazed squeak and offered your name.

“Daughter of some lord of Charos,” Barnes filled in the lie.

The king gazed at you a little longer and reluctantly returned his attention to the duke, “ah, I see you’ve quickly forgotten that pet Rogers spoke of.”

“Rogers? What did he say?” Barnes frowned.

“So it is and you lie to your liege,” Samuel taunted, “I can hardly hold you in ill esteem for the indulgence but I will not bide fibbing. She’s marvelous, I’d have her myself if I was not so smitten with Rebecca, my love, my light--”

“And my sister. Please, I cannot hear again of her breasts.” Barnes uttered, “she is a maid…” he admitted, “Would that Rogers could hold his tongue.”

“Or his drink,” Samuel added, “I shall await you in the corridor but not so long that you might trouble her so please, for me, resist the temptation.”

“Your majesty,” Barnes said tersely and walked the king to the door, “I will be swift.”

“You better be,” Samuel warned, “or you will be sparring without a chestplate.”

[nsfwshiggy]

taste

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paring: keigo (hawks) x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, slight public sex, handjob, under the table, having to keep quiet, orgasm denial, sub/dom kinda(?), dumbification, noncon/dubcon, unprotected vaginal sex

word count: 2k

author's note: this is slightly based off an nsfw audio i listened to a few months ago but it is not fully like it. i cant remember the person who made it but all credit ideas go to him. i wrote this while watching minecraft videos lol please enjoy! comments and constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged!

_______________________________________________

this wasn't the first time you had brought your boyfriend over to your parents house but every time he was over, you loved to push him more and more. you wanted to see how far you could tease him in front of your parents.

the first time you kissed him way too many times in front of your parents. the second time you purposely wore a low-cut dress that was way too short and then made sure to sit on his lap every chance you got. and tonight, would be the third time and you really wanted to push his limits. he was really easy.

"please come in. we were all waiting for you at the dinner table." your mom says when she answered the door. he was late like normal. you followed him with your eyes until he sat next to you and whispered something in your ear, "did you really have to wear something like that again?"

all you could do was laugh while he spoke to the rest of your family and apologized for being late. you patted his thigh but that was all you did for now. it was only the beginning of the game you were about to play. an extremely dangerous game. "shall we just begin dinner?" you ask while looking around the table. you wanted to start already but you needed everyone focused on other things.

your mother smiled at you and passed around the food so everyone could get some on their plates while they continued to talk amongst themselves about nothing important. so far so good.

you were glad that keigo sat on your right side because that was your dominate hand so this could easily be done and it could go smoothly only if your lovely boyfriend followed along. you slowly moved your hand to rest on top of his thigh that was resting against yours. you started to rub little circles on the inside of his thigh and then slowly started to climb up his thigh with your finger, softly almost too softly because keigo could barely feel a thing until you rubbed against his crotch.

you ran your fingernail along his zipper, up and down putting slight pressure every time. you finally got a reaction out of him even if it was a slight hitch of his breath. out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking at you, but you carried on talking with your mother that was sitting across from you.

you hear him start talking with your father and brother as if nothing even happened. you could feel the outline of his dick through is pants so you traced it with a single finger before you slowly unzipped his zipper. it was honestly hard to do this with one hand and in the position, you were in.

you whispered into keigo's ear, "be a good boy" while running your tongue against his ear ever so slightly. the next obstacle was his jean button, you needed both hands for that. "why don't you unbutton your pants for me?" you ask him while leaning over to him pretending to pick something up off the floor. keigo was good at following directions so he did what he was told.

you look down at your lap and then looked over to his lap, you could see that he was slightly hard under his boxers and because his pants were undone his dick was nearly falling out. you left him alone for a few minutes and let him become even more needy. you felt his hand land on your unclothed thigh, and you laugh, like your brother had said something funny but you were really laughing at him, grabbing his hand and putting it back on his own lap. you shake your head in response to this. this was your game, and you were the leader.

another 5 minutes had passed, and you still hadn't touched him. but with just him sitting there with his dick halfway out made him fully erect because he could easily be caught by his girlfriend’s family and he would have no idea what to do. this was turning him on so much - the thrill of not knowing if he'll get caught was something that he loved. he could feel your hand squeeze his leg once again - finally. he needed release.

like a little person walking up his leg your two fingers slowly climbed his leg reaching his aching dick. you use one of your fingers to pull down his boxers letting him be fully exposed. the cool air quickly found his hot flesh which made him shiver needing you to hurry and touch him. you took him by surprise and fully grabbed his dick in your hand and started to pump up and down. you could hear him coughing to cover up his moans and you feel him move his arm on to the top of your chair slightly moving closer to you. while doing this you both were having full conversations with your family members.

to tease him again you let him go again but since his little friend was so hard, he was standing up straight, you were almost positive you could see the tip of it over the table. you wore a short dress and no panties for a reason, you moved your hand onto your lap and spread your legs apart. just from teasing him you were already wet, and you were sure if you had to stand up right now there would be a wet spot on your chair.

you ran your hand up your wet slit collecting your wetness so you could use it to make his dick wet. almost like giving him a blowjob but without your mouth. he couldn't see what you were doing and that was a good thing. you moved your hand back over to his dick, you could tell this caught him by surprise by the way he gasped which then he tried to cover with another cough. you didn't know if it was from the wetness or just because you were touching him again but you didn't care, you loved getting reactions out of him.

he looked at you confused because your hand was wet now without even getting it wet from your mouth. you looked back at him and winked - almost telling him that the wetness was from your pussy. he got the hint you continued to move your hand up and down and sometimes rubbing your thumb over the slit gathering the precum that was leaking out.

you didn't know what you were gonna do when he fully came because usually when keigo cums it's a lot and it shoots out sometimes going everywhere. you knew he was close now by how hard he was squeezing your shoulder. and then you thought of something - don't let him finish. you laughed at yourself for thinking something so evil but you wanted him to punish you later for it so you picked up your pace.

his fingernails were now digging into your skin and he was breathing was heavy now. he was almost there. he slumped down into his chair with his legs spreading outwards, so close. you looked over to him and smiled sweetly before letting him go. while looking into his eyes you could see the light going out. his orgasm never reaching the breaking point. he was mad you could tell just by looking at him. all you did was smile at him before whispering into his ear, "looks like i've been a bad girl, who needs to be punished."

dinner was finished now and keigo had tucked his dick away back into his pants - still painfully hard. you ask your parents if they needed help with the dishes but keigo was already trying to pull you away. "no it's okay sweetie. i have to get dessert ready so you both go wait in the living room" your mom says. you smile at her and turn away keigo following behind you.

you turn around and look at him with puppy dog eyes, "keigo" you moan to him. he was aggravated with you but you could careless. "do you want to punish me.." you say into one ear, "i've been a very bad girl" you tell him in the other ear. he smiles at you before dragging you into your bedroom. you yell to your parents in the kitchen that you needed to show keigo something in your room and that you both would be back soon.

before you could even close the door keigo was pushing up your dress. you could feel the tip of his dick rubbing against your slit. "w-wait let me at least close the door first" you say looking back at him before closing and locking the door. he pushed you onto the bed and makes you get on all fours. once again he is pushing up your dress and slapping his dick along the slit of your pussy.

"are you going to fuck me or what?" you ask him impatiently. you could hear him laugh at you, "now now now don't be so impatient" he tells you before slamming into you. it was tight but it didn't hurt at all. it felt incredible every time he would thrust into you. he was being so forceful that the bed frame was hitting the wall and making a loud noise every time it collided.

you were feeling so good that you didn't care about the noise. keigo pushed your head down into the pillows making his dick go deeper inside of you pushing against the sweet spongy spot deep inside you. he knew how to fuck you right and you never had to tell him where you liked it. "fuck keigo please" you moan loudly. you had to stick your fingers in your mouth with how loud you were being.

you were being fucked so good that your eyes were going crosseyed, "oh look at my pretty baby being fucked stupid" you hear your boyfriend say to you while slapping your ass making it sting. because of the bed frame hitting the wall you could barely hear your mother knocking on the door telling you that the dessert was ready.

you could hear keigo tell her something but you were so far gone that you couldn't make out anything he had said. keigo was close to cumming and had told you that he was cumming inside of you, you didn't care. you loved when he used your body like this. being fucking stupid was your favorite thing he could do to you. you feel him fill you up with his hot seed before pulling out leaving you on the bed shaking.

you hear him going through some of your drawers before pulling out panties and throwing them at you. "put these on. for punishment you have to hold my cum inside of you while we go have dessert" he says before cleaning himself up and walking out of the room not helping you or letting you cum.

©️nsfwshiggy

[babylooneytoonz]

The Black Hand

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood and gore || Angst with a happy ending ||

[My Masterlist]

Just like a hundred odd marriages that had managed to break apart, yours was one of them but it was a long time ago— two years to be exact. Although it did hurt a lot the first few months, when you went over it countless times as to where had you gone wrong, what had you done for Tommy to fall out of love with you, or maybe it was the other way round, although you were sure it wasn't. It wasn't easy especially when the two of you shared something beautiful together— your three year old daughter, Avery. But like someone's rightly said, time does heal all wounds. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, or you would rather say, a whole year, you did finally get over it, get over him and move on.

You and Avery moved to London city after your divorce with Tommy, for you wanted the best for the little girl, and Tommy agreed, that Birmingham wasn't the best place for you to raise the girl alone, although Tommy was still in your life, and hers. But it wasn't just the same post the divorce, he would only be able to find the time to come visit her once every two weeks or so, although he did make sure that he was sending you money, although you could very well make your own living.

"Why can't you fucking stay at home and be with her? I'm sending you enough for the two of you, ay." You once remembered him saying, almost two months post the two of you had separated.

That night had been yet another night when you had found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not that he didn't yell back at you. It was as if he was giving you his own fire in retaliation to yours, "Why? Why do I stop living my life just because you fucking decided you don't want to fucking be a part of this family anymore?" You screeched, jabbing him in the heart with your hate filled eyes.

He shook his head, annoyed as he moved away from you, in a desperate attempt to shield him from your lethal gaze. "Not this again, [Y/N]. I'm not fucking going to go over this again with you."

"Really? The last time I remember, and the time before that, you never really told me why you wanted to call out, did you Thomas?" Tommy flinched every time you called him from his first name, it felt ruthless and hateful but he knew he deserved it. He swallowed thickly, and looked away, his fingers instinctively pulling out a box of cigarettes as he began to steer you away from this discussion again, "Well since you so clearly don't want to fucking do what I ask you to do, you might as well move to London, with Ada. At least I can stop worrying about her that way—" He turned towards Avery's room, glancing at the shut door as though he could see her through the wood inside and then turned back to you.

You weren't so opposed to that idea to be honest and did end up moving to London, moving into the apartment just next to Ada, because you didn't want to invade into her privacy, and let her invade into your own. She had a son, and she didn't need her nesting the two of you on top of it. You began working for a kind old man who sold paintings for a living. He was too old now, so he chose not to sit in the shop anymore, having hired you to do it.

Business had been running low for a while, and the fact that London city was all wet and in puddles, and the rains won't stop was another contributing factor to it. You sat idly in the shop, staring at the rain smeared windows, the heavy sound of rain the only source of noise in the otherwise calm shop.

It was as though it took you a second to make your mind, you stood up, the chair croaking as it was pushed back and you stretched your arms in the air. There was no point in staying at the shop anymore, and you wanted nothing more than to sit by the fireplace at your home, your daughter perched on your lap playing with her doll, while you drank a warm, soothing cup of tea. Pulling your coat on, you took your umbrella, using it to shield you from the merciless lashes out on the street as you locked the shop and began walking home.

You reached the front door, and climbing the front steps, you closed the dripping umbrella, letting it rest by the doorstep so it wouldn't leak into your new carpet. You shuffled through your purse, looking for your keys when your eyes fell on your door, and you realized it wasn't locked. You frowned, your eyebrows creasing into a thin line as you opened the door and stepped inside, a sudden pit of horror inkling through your blood. You were never as careless as to not lock the door, although you always left Avery with Ada and Karl so the worry didn't revolve around her, it was more around your own recklessness.

You were about to start striding towards the parlour when you heard the footsteps approach you, only to finally be able to see your ex husband, your daughter trotting behind him, her hand securely held into his own, his eyes scanning yours. You parted your lips, confused when Tommy began speaking, "I came over at Ada's. Found her there." He then turned towards Avery and almost bent so he was face level with her, her tiny blue eyes staring into her father's, "Why don't you go into your room, love? Once I'm done speaking to your mum, I'll be back with you."

She nodded, giving you a tiny smile that you returned and she ran off, her tiny feet thudding against the wooden flooring of your apartment. The two of you waited until she had run up the flight of stairs and then he pulled up a card, raising it in the air for you to see, "Do you ever fucking bother going through your mail?"

Your eyes flew to the card he was holding, and you tilted your neck, shaking your head in confusion, when Tommy sighed, clearly annoyed and walked up to you, placing the card in your palm for you to see.

"It's a fucking black hand, came for all of us. I assumed they would have sent one to you too, and I was right. They bloody did." Tommy's hand flew to his head, his fingers entangling through his hair as he pulled onto them for a brief second, his exasperation obvious. You had lived with Tommy, had been married to him long enough to know what a Black Hand meant. Your hand flew to your chest as panic arose inside of you and you instantly forced yourself to the wall, afraid your legs would betray you and you would fall.

Tommy grunted, and then his eyes softened a bit as he took a step closer, looking at you as he sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette, "They won't touch you, or Avery. I won't let them."

"How the fuck did they find us?" You gasped, still in shock, and a bit of denial.

"Just like they found Ada, which is why the two of you come back home with me—"

"But this is my fucking home, Tommy. Not Birmingham, because I clearly remember you being the one shunning me out and suggesting London," You snapped, cutting him off.

You felt him stiffen, and your eyes darted down to where his hands were, clutched to his sides, clenched into tight fists, his white knuckles peeking out, making you aware of his growing temper.

"I don't— You don't and will not let it go? Yes I fucking walked out of your life and sent you to London because I thought this was the only fucking way to keep you two safe, for fucks sake—"

You paused, taking in his words that had managed to flow out of his lips that instant. He saw the look on your face and he immediately stopped speaking, moving away until he fixed himself by your window and began staring at the rain, trying to avoid the questions that were growing now in your mind.

"Is that why you decided to end this—"

Your voice was reduced to a mere whisper, and it was suddenly so quiet, you were scared that even Tommy will be able to hear the sound of your heart cracking into two. Your lips trembled, your eyes suddenly cloudy as you waited for a few seconds for Tommy to say something. Anything. One. Two. Three. Four seconds. Nothing.

"Tommy, why? I need to know. I fucking deserve to know." Your voice beseeched him, breaking his own heart once again.

"It was a long time back," he mumbled.

"It wasn't, two years isn't long enough," you retorted.

You watched as he turned towards you slowly, but instead of looking at you, his gaze fell on a photograph on by the fireplace, a photograph of when Avery was a baby. He walked up to it, slowly grabbing it and lifting it into his hand as he began staring at the smiling baby, his expressions not betraying how broken he really felt.

"Father Hughes had said something years back, that he knows a way to get back at me, he knows my fucking weakness and he was going to bloody act on it —" His palm swiped over his daughter's face, a low smile breaking out against his lips as he imagined, just for a brief second, the first cries of his daughter and how happy he had felt in that moment when he had first held her in his arms, promising to himself that he was going to protect her with his life if it required. "I couldn't let him get his hands on you. Avery wasn't born yet that time, and that made you even worse of a target— my pregnant wife."

"You waited for her to be born, so you could.. send us away. To keep us safe. That's what you thought? That's what you thought would keep us safe?"

Tommy looked up finally, his irises meeting yours, and you could see the hurt hidden in those eyes, an art he was so well versed with, hiding his emotions— pretending that he had none. He was about to reply when Avery walked into the room, her palm rubbing over her eyelids, her doll clutched tightly in her other hand.

"Daddy, you promised you'll read me a bedtime story."

You hurriedly brought your palm up to your face and turned away, using the temporary distraction to wipe your tears away and walked up to Avery, kneeling down in front of her before you quickly planted a kiss to her forehead. You then straightened up again and nodded at Tommy, who lifted Avery up in his arms. Avery clung on to him, and his arm was wrapped around her waist, having held her propped up against his hip but his eyes didn't leave yours until you were forced to be the one to leave the parlour first and lock yourself on your room again.

It felt surreal to be back in Birmingham again. This was the city where you were born, where you grew up and where you fell in love, with both, Thomas Shelby and the daughter you shared with him. And now, you were back at the Arrowe House once more.

The smile on Avery's face was heartwarming— you couldn't deny how her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when she sat on her father's lap in the evenings after Tommy came back from work while you busied yourself with Ada, and Karl, who was almost two years older than her, ran around with his toys, trying to get Avery's attention.

Today was just another day that had turned into a normal routine for you. Ada sat on the dining table, reading an old journal of some sorts while you stood by the stove, boiling some water for some tea. Just next to the breezy kitchen was Tommy's study, and you could practically hear your daughter's mindless babbles from here.

"But daddy, mummy says that if I eat more chotolate, all my teeth are going to fall off, and..and never grow back."

"Well, love. Mummies are always right, no matter what your mum says, my girl will always do it. Yeah?" Tommy's voice reached your ears making your lips curve into a weak smile that Ada happened to catch.

"[Y/N] —" Ada began, but you cut her off.

"Ada, I think I have a hunch about what you will say. Please don't. I'm not ready for it."

She sighed, while you poured the tea into two cups and walked up to her, placing one in front of her. Karl walked into the kitchen, grabbing a biscuit, shooting the two of you a warm smile before he rushed off to play.

"I'm not going to defend my brother, love. He is a fucking grown man and he did some bloody stupid things. But I still think that the two of you should talk. I mean, atleast for Avery."

You nodded and pulled out a chair for yourself, bringing the tea cup up to your lips so you could blow on it and take a sip, intentionally deciding not to reply to Ada because you didn't want to talk about this, or about Tommy. You were about to pull out a box of cigarettes from the pocket in your dress, when you heard a loud crash somewhere outside.

Your eyes widened at the sound and your head snapped towards Ada as the two of you rushed to the window, trying to peek out of it— but in the dark of the night, neither of you could see anything. You turned to Ada, giving her a confused look when the door kicked open behind you, causing the two of you to jump in a scare, only to find Tommy standing there, holding both Karl and Avery by either of their hands.

Upon seeing their mothers, the two children ran up to them, Avery now clinging to your leg as Tommy walked up to the two of you, his eyes tensed and his face showing worry.

"What's going on, Tommy?" Ada asked, Karl now hoisted up against her waist.

"Listen—" Tommy looked back towards the door, swiping his palm over his face. You could sense that something wasn't right, by the way your ex husband's body was tense and rigid, his eyes hollow and void as he looked from Ada to you and his eyes finally grew dark with rage, "Keep the children in and don't leave the parlour until I come and get you."

"Tommy, tell us what's—" you began.

"They are outside. The Italians," His gaze fell on Avery, and you swear you saw a glaze in Tommy's eyes before he turned towards the both of you, " Stay away from the fucking windows , draw the curtains shut and don't step out of the parlour no matter what you hear. Ey? There are guns in the topmost drawer of the cabinet, here's the key—" You watched in horror and numbness as Tommy slid you a key. Without uttering a word, you tightened your grip around the key and swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

"Come on, Avery, [Y/N]," Ada's voice pulled you out of your daze and the four of you began running towards the parlour. Upon reaching the parlour door, Tommy instead of following you turned into another hallway and your breathing hitched on the realization that he wasn't following you anymore, and your heart sank in despair, racing in worry. Hot chunks of tears started falling off your eyes, making you pull Avery to your chest, holding her tight as you sat down on an armchair, your legs trembling and your knees wobbling, your daughter held securely in your arms.

"Will he come back Ada?" You whispered, slowly lifting your gaze until you had fixed it on her and she gave you a sad look and turned away.

You don't remember why the time stood still after that. The two of you sat huddled in the parlour for hours perhaps or were they just minutes that kept stretching on, you weren't sure. The sounds of the bullets and the guns had finally died down, but Tommy wasn't back yet. You looked down at Avery, who had fallen asleep in your arms and then you looked at Ada, and Karl, giving them a weak smile.

Gently, you stood up, scooping her in your arms and not wanting to wake her up before you placed her into the chair.

"What are you doing, [Y/N]?" Ada asked weakly.

Before you could find yourself replying to her, you found yourself striding towards the door of the parlour that you had locked from the inside.

"[Y/N]! For fucks sake don't. Tommy asked us not to leave—" Ada began but you cut her off and unlocked the door, hurriedly stepping out.

"Ada, please watch Avery, I'll be back I promise."

"[Y/N]!!"

Her cries fell on deaf ears after that for you were already running down the hall of the Arrowe House, ignoring her pleas to not go out. You held the gun securely in your hand, just in case as you ran out of the front door and were immediately greeted by a harrowing scene. Bodies littered the front garden, blood seeping through the grass and having turned it red. Men in Blinder caps walked about here and there, and the air smelled of death and gunpowder. Some of them were clearing the mess they had made, while other roamed aimlessly , perhaps waiting for an instruction from Tommy.

Tommy—

Panic was suddenly drilling into your ears as your eyes began darting around, looking for him. You grabbed one of the Peaky boys using the fabric of their coat and he turned towards you, frowning, "Mrs. Shelby, you are not supposed to be here, please get back inside —"

"Where is he? Take me to Tommy. Now." You were hyperventilating, practically gasping for air.

"Mrs. Shelby we can't—" Words got caught in his mouth and his eyes widened when you drew out the gun and cocked it, aiming it right to his face. You didn't know what you were doing and delirium had taken over you completely.

"I don't care what orders he might have given you. You are going to fucking take me to Thomas and you are going to do it now, lad," you growled.

"It's okay lad, get the fuck off and clear the fucking bodies—" Arthur suddenly stepped next to you and he admonished the young lad, watching him scamper off, his head in his tail. Arthur then turned towards you.

"Put the fucking gun down, [Y/N] because that is not a fucking toy," he threw out his hand towards you and you glanced down at it, your body still burning from worry mixed with rage. Reluctantly, you placed the gun into his hand that he swiftly pocketed.

"Where's Tommy, Arthur?"

"Yeah, alright, I'll take you to him, but you won't like the bloody sight—"

"Take me to him, I won't have it any other way." You mumbled.

Arthur and you walked side by side towards the stables, and all through that thirty second walk, you couldn't stop your heart from racing with nervousness. The minute you stepped into the stables, all colour drained from your face at the sight before you.

Tommy was laid back on a makeshift bedding by propping up the sacks of hay together. His shirt was off, crumpled to the floor, red and stained with his own blood. A massive bullet wound spurted out blood from his gut and his eyes were weak, his face sweaty. He lifted his eyes just when you entered, and even in his condition, a frown managed to cake its way over his otherwise pained features.

"I fucking asked you—" he breathed in a punctured way, his lower lip trembling from the blood loss, while one of the men hunched over him, pulling out the bullet from his torso, "— Not to step out of the fucking house unless I get to you."

You gave him a cold, ghostly stare, your lips pressing into a firm line as you ignored him and walked up to the man that was now beginning to patch him up. You patted him twice on his shoulder and he looked up at you, and then down to your hand that was stretched out facing the ceiling, "I'll take it from here. All of you, just fucking get out. Leave us alone."

The men looked at Tommy, who pressed his lips into a thin line, and then at Arthur who nodded and motioned for them to move out. The man placed the needle in your hand and you blinked, watching the men leave until you were alone with Tommy.

All the while, you hunched over him, working over his wound to patch him up, he kept glaring at you, his breathing heavy. Finally, when you were done, you tossed the needle away, looking down at your blood coated hands before glaring at him, your nostrils flared, "You fucking bastard, you fucking piece of shit, you could have fucking died and I wouldn't have had the chance to fucking say goodbye."

"[Y/N]—"

"No Tommy, I'm done. You could have died, leaving Avery behind, and that child doesn't deserve going through the fucking pain, you bloody don't get it do you? You like to fucking play with fire, it's like you have a death wish or something—" You fired, holding on to Tommy's thigh to keep yourself steady, as your vision had clouded and tears had managed to seep down your cheeks, staining the neck of your dress.

"You think I don't fucking know that? Fucks sake—" he sat up, wincing and his palm flying to his wound as you smacked his hand roughly and he hissed, his eyes glaring at you with fury. You grabbed the bandage and tied it securely around his wound, your eyes finally softening when you saw the colour slowly begin to return to his cheeks, "I told you to bloody stay in for a reason, so you two could be safe, but you don't ever fucking listen to me."

"Forgive me Tommy if I can't bear the fucking thought of losing you to death, because you're not a fucking God and you can't cheat death. Forgive me for being scared for our daughter, thinking and worrying everyday as to what will become of her when you're fucking gone—" you threw your hands exasperatedly into the air before you took a step away from him, and another, and another until you were met by the wooden walls of the barn and there was no place left for you to step towards. You brought your fisted palm up to your mouth, pressing it hard against it to muffle the sobs that were beginning to rack through your body as you looked at him with menacing, accusing eyes, "Forgive me if I can't get myself to fucking stop loving you, even though loving you is like death to me, and I die every single time this happens, forgive me."

"Fuck," Tommy cursed under his breath when he looked at you, almost shaking his head as he weakly lifted his hand and threw it out towards you, motioning to you to come back to him, "Come here, love." He finally sat to his side, wincing slightly, his feet now resting against the ground, making space for you to sit down next to him. You blinked, wiping your tears away with your blood coated hands, smudging your face with it, but not bothering as you, with slow steps, walked to where Tommy was and sat down next to him, staring at your hands. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers clasping around yours, but didn't speak. The two of you sat there in silence for the next few minutes, just listening to each other breathe, both of you tormented by your own set of thoughts, until he finally broke the silence.

"I never stopped loving you, not then, and not now. You think it was easy for me watching you leave? The fucking shovels were back again when you left, and I was bloody left to fight them alone."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, not daring to look into his eyes for you were afraid of breaking down again. So you just kept listening as he spoke, finally after all those months of keeping you in the dark.

"There were nights I was dying to come back to you, and to Avery, but I fucking stopped myself, love because I didn't want this to happen, for you and her to be caught in this mess, because of me—"

"Tommy, my love, this is where you went wrong," you cut him off, pulling your hands away from his, curling them against the fabric of your now bloody dress, "I married you knowing what I was getting myself into. And we were supposed to get through this together. What good came out of you leaving us just to keep us safe? We still got that bloody Black Hand."

He smiled humourlessly, turning away from you and began staring into the thin air, before you took his hand again, holding it tight so he couldn't pull out.

"You know—" Tommy mumbled, in a voice low, but loud enough for you to make out his words, "two fucking years and I haven't been with a woman."

You parted your lips, turning to him and blinked, before giving him a weak, teasing smile, "Tommy Shelby turned into a hermit, well that's just not believable."

"Neither did I kiss one."

"Is that your way of asking me if you can kiss me, Mr. Shelby?" You smiled and turned towards him, staring at his form, letting your tongue trail over your lower lip as you arched your body closer towards him, so you were close to his lips, feeling his breath over you.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He breathed.

"I would fucking do this," you leaned in, fluttering your lashes until you pressed your lips against his plump ones, kissing him.

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[hpalways]

Yaksha’s Destiny || Xiao

DARKNESS was the biggest fear held by fellow Yakshas. This power bestowed upon you and many alike gave an opening to the pitting shadows that raged within your chambers. Some days, it wasn't as bad -- other days... it felt like you were getting ripped apart into shreds, taking in all your willpower to battle against it. It was tempting, to give in and call it quits. Life for a Yaksha wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. There were always too many demons and not enough heroes. Especially for a weaker one like you, anger and frustration would stem from these battles, only to eat at you later on. 

Today was one of those days. The sky was a stormy sea of clouds, with the Gods crying from the heaven above. Droplets prickled down your bare skin, cold to the touch. While in the mountainside, you had stumbled upon demonic energy, so there was no choice but to finish them off. 

Dodging the monster that lunged at you, you took out your polearm. The hydro vision on your hip gleamed brightly in the setting. Taking a turn, you could feel power surge to your arms. As you were about to jab your weapon into the demon's abdomen, they had ducked in time. Shit. You had underestimated this one.

Its body rammed into you, knocking you off your feet. Air left your system, causing you to groan in pain. Just as it was about to sink its teeth into your arm, you rolled over on one side and jumped back to your feet. Fingers clenching tightly around the metal stick, you pushed your hind legs and tried to stab at it another time. Your speed and reaction time was too slow. Too damn slow. Too damn weak. Gritting your teeth, you began to use up more of Yaksha's power, drinking the exhilarating taste of freedom. It was so addicting... often times, you'd wished it'd never stop. 

A burst of water shrouded from the weapon, circling the demon until it was surrounded. With one, clean fell swoop, you sliced the demon and the energy faded away. The deed was done. 

Falling to your knees, your entire body was shaking. Face contorted and in pain, nails dug into the earth to feel wet mud. Your body would not move -- it could not. Stilling there as if you had just been paralyzed, hungering thoughts plagued your mind... Thoughts you wished weren't yours. Letting out a disgusting whimper, similar to that of a wounded animal, you bit down on your lip, hard. Blood dribbled down your chin, painting the grass in crimson. Tugging at your mask, you stared at it for a moment. A sigh let out. 

That was a close one. Crashing to the ground, your chest heaved up and down in exhaustion. 

A figure suddenly entered your peripheral vision. Climbing up to the ridge of the mountain was Xiao, his dark teal locks blowing along with the harsh winds. Donned in his usual robes, he was as attractive as ever. The first time you stumbled upon him -- one of the famous five -- you nearly forgot to breathe. You had referred to him as Alatus then, starstrucked by such a powerful being. 

You would never not awed by him. The way he held himself would always come to remind you of the big gap in strength between the two of you. Maybe you did establish a relationship with this all-mighty Yaksha, but this inferiority complex was tugging your strings more than you'd like to admit. 

At the same time, he provided you the distraction needed. He kept you grounded, which prevented you from going mad. He was the only one who made you feel human, if that was even possible. 

Golden amber hues landed on you, withholding an unreadable expression. He walked up to your beaten up form and sat down, unbothered by the rain. Struggling to get yourself into a sitting position, you looked out at the view in front. 

"You used up too much of your power again," he murmured. 

"Do you think I don't know that? I had no choice," you sighed. 

His sharp eyes narrowed further. "You were being careless."

"It happened. There's nothing I can do to change it." His anger barely dwindled and the scowl only deepened. "Come on, Xiao. I don't want to talk about my mistakes when I'm with you. Busy as we are, I barely get to see you as of late. Can't we just enjoy our brief time together?"

That got him. His eyes softened at your words and he reluctantly nodded in agreement. Seizing the victory, you laid your head on his shoulder, feeling warmth even upon this cold weather. The rain was starting to let down too -- perhaps Xiao was the lucky charm.

"What have you been up to?" you inquired. 

"Demons. Monsters. The usual," he responded. His cheeks tinged with a soft pink all of a sudden. "I... I also got you something."

Your ears perked up at the sound of this. Lifting your head, you watched him in curiosity. He took something out from his robe pockets and slowly opened his palm. Laying there was a blue, glowing object. Shaped as a butterfly, it was gorgeous. You had never seen this kind of butterfly around these parts. He must have traveled far to have found it. 

"It's a crystalfly," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your heart raced at his actions. He was too cute. Before meeting him, you could have never imagined the Vigilant Yaksha to possess such qualities. "I saw it and... thought it would look good in your hair."

"Oh, I love it. Thank you," you whispered breathlessly, touched beyond words. This was exactly what you meant with how Xiao could easily brush your problems away with a smile.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft as petal leaves. He returned the gesture immediately, arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. Digging your fingers into his hair, you kissed with a ferocity that was never present in your fights. This was to release the pain you dealt with today. As long Xiao was here, you were going to be okay. As long as he was by your side, you were going to be okay. This era of demons and gods will end someday, leaving you a happy future with him. 

You tasted him. His lips. His mouth. His entire self. He tasted of mint. He tasted of life. He tasted of iron. The kind of metal tang found in blood. Sighs were exchanged upon each kiss, breathless but the two of you would not let the other go. Your lips trailed down to his jaw, peppering his baby-soft skin with a few nibbles here and there. He let out a gasp. 

Finally you pulled away, giggling at his flustered state for your bold moves. 

The end was nearing. He picked up the crystal fly and reached up to your [h/c] hair. While he gently pinned it down, you could only focus on his swollen lips. He was beautiful... and you loved him so. 

"[Y/N]," he said, interrupting the honey silence of the mountains. "If you are ever in trouble, just call my name and I will come to you. In any circumstance, avoid overusing your power."

This bliss that left you giddy disappeared as quick as it came. All that remained was the harsh, cruel reality. Brows knitted together in offense and you quickly shook your head. "Why would I do that? I'm a Yaksha. What kind of Yaksha seeks help from another? This wounds my pride, Xiao. Is your faith in my skill and strength that low?"

"No. That's not it," he argued, features twisted in desperation. "Why won't you let me protect you?"

"Unbelievable," you merely scoffed, staggering up to stand. "I have to go. I'm sure you do too."

Ignoring his blubbering protests, you jumped down upon ledges until you reached ground level safely. He didn't understand what you had to go through. He never had to face judgement from those who didn't believe in you. Strong enough to battle the demons both externally and internally, Xiao was different from you. But even so... even if his words meant that he only cared for you, it hurt like you had been just stabbed. 

You were willing to prove to him that you could stand on your own feet. He was going to eat his own words. So would the other Yakshas who looked down on you your entire life. If you trained hard enough, surely improvement could be gained. Right? It wasn't as if destiny could determine what you could accomplish already. 

Approaching the forest that was said to contain many strong demons and monsters, you surged ahead, with eyes filled of challenge. 

There, sitting in a nook was a cave, Sensing a suffocating presence, you knew you had hit a jackpot. Sneaking across the grassy lands, you stayed silent. The tall, towering trees were beginning to look a lot more ominous. Tiptoeing to the edge of the cave, you peered in to find the energy unbearably strong. One staggering breath later and you went forward. A roar let out, signaling that it knew of its intruder. Shoulders tensed up and sweat beaded your forehead, but you couldn't stop now. No matter what, you were going to go through with it. 

It was a beast. Fangs gleamed in the darkness, nearly the size of your weapon. Having woken from its slumber, its terrifying eyes landed on you. Claws swiped the air, which you barely avoided in time. Fear had seized you with a hand, choking you until you could barely move. This was a terrible, foolish move. There was no way you could beat such a demon. 

Calling in more power, it filled you up at the core. To waste no time, you delved right into battle, slashing at the monster. It had little to none effect on it. With a lazy swipe of its arm, it slammed you right into the cave's walls, causing you to spit out blood. Pushing yourself up, you tried again, putting in more power to your weapon. Adding hydro to the mix, the weapon hit its arms. It caused the monster to roar in pain, but that only made it more angry. Barreling straight to you, similar but much more frightening than the last demon, it pounced on you, pinning you down to the ground. 

Drool left its mouth, splattering all over on your face. Its claws dug into your side and you let out a piercing scream. You were so fucking sick of this shit. Why was it destined that you had to stay weak? It was so unfair you wished to cry your heart out. 

The last of the powers was used. Pushing the demon's hold on you, you stumbled up and felt thrill run through. It was delicious, but your mind was also beginning to grow hazy. "X-Xiao..." you uttered out. 

The Conqueror of Demons arrived as soon as you called, anxious to apologize for his insensitivity. What he didn't expect to see was a battlefield. A large and strong demon was torn apart to pieces, the iron smell of it so strong, it was gagworthy. Sitting on the pile of bones was you, dark, gruesome scratches decorating your arms and legs. A deep gash was bleeding from your torso and your [e/c] eyes were dimmed; at the same time, they held a crazed look in them. 

His face paled and his body grew cold at the sight. You did the thing he last wanted to happen. Already too far in and consumed by the darkness surrounding your whole life, you were looking at him not with love, but with bloodlust. "I'll kill you, Xiao!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. 

Climbing down, you tried to run to him. But your footsteps halted and you crashed to the ground. Spazzing out as if you had just been electrocuted by lightning, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly approached you, tears streaming down the side of his face. He kneeled down, cradling your head in his lap. "Don't leave me..." He hit the ground in fury. "Dammit! Why didn't you listen to me!?"

Consciousness returned but you were on the brink of death. The wound was deep, but so were the demons. It was raining again, so you forced a small smile out. "I'm weak. It's my fate," you whispered. "At least I won't have to suffer through this darkness any longer. It's over. I quit. You won, my demons. I am yours to keep."

"Shut your mouth," he snarled. The rain had turned into a storm, adding fury into the mix. "Please. You can make it through this. Don't leave me yet. It was going to get better. An era with no more demons to haunt us. You said so yourself." 

"That was just a stupid dream."

"Don't fucking say that," he growled, flinching as if he'd just been slapped. You were supposed to be the optimist here. It meant that this death was real... and that you would accept it with open arms. "It's going to happen. So hold on. Let me find someone to save you."

Your head shook and you winced. "We all learned this since young. We'll die if we let our power consume us. It's impossible and you know it."

"Stop," he choked out, lowering his head until his hair covered his broken expression. "Then don't talk. Save your breath."

You ignored his words. "Thank you... for the crystalfly. Does it look pretty on me?" you murmured.

He heaved out a sob and slowly nodded. "I've never seen anyone more beautiful."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"And I'm sorry."

"I am too."

"Protect... the people... like you always do, my sweet, Vigilant Yaksha." Your voice grew more raspy by the second, for the pain was getting unbearable. 

You fluttered your eyes shut and the pain faded. On the other hand, Xiao's pain grew, the scars and trauma there to haunt him, for a life and infinity.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Lessons to be Learned: Part 2 ( Marko x Fem!Reader)***

Part 1

Warnings: smut, oral-sex, cursing

Word Count: 2206

Marko hadn't known what to expect when he saw you the next few times, but laying in the valley between your legs while you played with his hair was not how he thought this would end up. He was laying on top of you, kissing you slowly when you flicked your tongue against his in a rather sinful way. It made him groan, and a surge of excitement ran through him. He had to pull away from the kiss to collect himself, and he opened his eyes to see you smiling up at him. You were brushing your hands gently against his cheeks, and he knew you found it amusing how inexperienced he was. After a moment, you said,

"Now, try to do that back to me." You told him, and he let out a little noise of exasperation. You had been "teaching" him for three nights in a row now. He was sure he hadn't been so terrible of a kisser that he needed such careful instruction, but he held his tongue and leaned back in to reclaim your lips. The last thing he needed was to let his careless mouth ruin this for him. However, if there was one thing he could say for himself, it was that he was a quick learner. He flicked his tongue back in the exact same way you had, but took the next moment to draw your lip between his teeth. He gave it a soft, slow drag, before soothing it with another kiss. You'd all but melted underneath him, tugging his hair in a way that made him press his hips against yours and he pulled away to ask,

"Well?" There was a slight cockiness to his smile when he looked down at you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips red and swollen from his practice. You didn't know he could, but he could smell your arousal in the air. You licked your lips and pulled yourself up to sit up a bit before you told him,

"You've gotten better. Perhaps you won't cut anyone with that appendage of yours now." You said, teasing him. He rolled his eyes, and nearly leaned back down to silence you. But, he stopped himself. The pair of you weren't lovers, even if the situation made it seem so. He pushed himself up, at an arms length, and teased the hem of your stockings as he simultaneously did the same to a thought in his head. After a moment, he asked,

"Would we," He looked away from your face, berating himself. The words sounded silly in his head, but, still, he had to ask. His hand came up to cup your face as he pushed himself on. "I thought we were doing this so I could learn how to properly..." He trailed off, letting the silence finish his sentence for him. You smiled up at him, a smile he'd grown attached to in the past few days.

"You are." You teased, and, quickly, you said, "I believe your original request was 'learning how to pleasure a woman'." You said, and Marko cringed when you threw his own words back at him. You grinned, continuing on, "The best way to pleasure a woman is by being good with your tongue, and teasing," Your hand slid down, moving down the fabric of his shirt and played with the edges of his trousers. You saw how his eyes darkened, could practically see the frustration he'd built up the past few days ready to burst. "Makes a person feel all the more desperate for release." You told him, and you watched as it took him a moment to catch on. He turned his head, scoffing lightly. It's seemed the three day period of him leaving with an uncomfortable tightness in his trousers had been intentional. But, after a few more kisses and some deliberate touches, he was quick to find that he wasn't the only one being teased.

He'd moved farther down your body, hiking up the slip you were wearing and pulling off your undergarments. He left your stockings, even if he had to reluctantly discard your garters. It was a little daunting for him, but you'd already explained. Marko was new at this, and, even if he did manage to last longer than a few minutes the first couple of times, it was better that he'd learn how to put his sharp tongue to use. For his future lovers sakes. 

He'd parted your lips with two fingers, staring at the revealed flesh. He ran two fingers over your folds, experimenting with his touch. You let out a small flutter of a sigh above, your legs tensing. He looked curiously, a small smirk working its way onto his lips. He leaned in, licking a long teasing strip from your entrance to your clit. He heard how you gasped when his wet appendage moved over your bundle of nerves, and, to your luck, he wasn't completely hopeless. He touched your labia, warming you up by tracing it softly. He teased you, dipping his fingers inside you but not far enough to satisfy. Until, he did exactly what you had taught him over the little bud, twisting and flicking his tongue in ways that made you squeal. He held your legs open, his strength keeping your legs parted even as his eagerness took him over. He ground into the bed under him, trying to relieve the pressure in his trousers as you made noises above him that he'd be replaying in his head for days. His jaw didn't tire, and his lack of experience made him eager to please. Even as you fisted his hair and writhed above him, urging him on with,

"Oh, right- Right there, ah-" As he inched you closer and closer. He was quick to listen, flicking his tongue in just the way you liked when you said, "Oh, Marko, just like that- just- Oh-" Until your legs were beginning to tremble in his grasp. You didn't know how long it took, but he wasn't pulling away or ending your pleasure in favor of switching to the main event. He continued on and on, holding you still by placing a hand on your abdomen while the other went to squeeze himself through his pants. He moaned against your clit, sending wonderful vibrations through your body that had you arching your back. You tugged on his hair, realizing that you were trembling, tumbling over the edge, and tilting your hips up to meet his mouth. You came with a cry, but Marko didn't pause. He flattened his tongue down against the bud, licking long, hard stripes that sent an almost painful amount of aftershocks. You yanked at his hair, trying to dislodge him, but it wasn't until you begged him, "I can't- That's- Ah! God, I can't, I can't, no more," That he was pulling away with a slight sheen on his lips and chin. He climbed his way back up your body as you wracked air into your lungs, your head swimming and hazy. He smiled down at you, echoing himself with a cocky,

"Well?" And you almost wanted to wipe that grin right off his face. But you knew he had a temper, and an easily bruised ego, so you held your tongue. You let out small pants, watching the twinkle in his eyes turn into pure hunger as he pressed his hips down against yours and lost his smile. You'd always pretended like you didn't notice during your kissing lessons, even when you changed from sitting upright to having him settle between your legs. He stared at you as if you were something to eat. You'd seen the gaze before, but never had it thrilled you like when you saw it in his hazel-green eyes. "Well?" He asked again, but this time you were almost sure it wasn't praise he was looking for. You reached up to touch his face, braid your fingers into his mop of curls, and watched as he ducked down just an inch. As if he wished for nothing more than to connect your lips. You cupped his cheek, suppressing a smile before you said,

"It was good. Some more practice, and you might be able to start charging." You teased, but it earned a smile nonetheless. Still, there was that question in his eyes, one that he didn't dare to ask. At least, not again. The pair of you stared for a moment, neither of you brave enough to say any of the words floating in your minds. But, you were brave enough to act. You ran your hand down his chest once again. You thought you heard just the slightest hitch of breath in his throat, and that's when you leaned up and in. You connected your lips again, tasting yourself on your tongue as your hand felt the front of his trousers, and the hardness in them. You rubbed him gently, and, if you didn't already know before, you would've guessed this was the first time he'd been touched by a hand that wasn't his own. His hips bucked into your hand almost immediately, rolling it against your hand for more friction. 

The boy had surprised you days before from how strong he was, but it was still far too easy to roll him over. He kissed you sloppily, seeming to forget every lesson you'd taught him now that his mind was elsewhere. You unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and reached inside to find the member within. You broke the kiss only to lubricate your hand, and you stroked him slowly as you kissed down his neck. You let him tilt back his head, his breath coming out in stuttering gasps as he rolled his hips into the fist you'd made around him. He cursed,

"Fuck," As your hand pumped him faster and faster, and you pulled away completely to watch the look of bliss on his features. His eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth opening to let out an almost choked moan, before he was clenching his jaw. It was a beautiful sight to watch, and you used one hand to unbutton his shirt, kissing down the quickly exposed length of skin, before you sunk down to come eye to eye with his exposed length. You kissed the leaking tip, sucking the bead of precum into your mouth and watching as his hips seemed to buck in surprise. Almost as if he'd forgotten you were there. You heard a shuffle, and you looked up to see him pushing to prop himself up on his elbows. "I thought-" But you were quick to cut him off by licking a stripe up the length of his dick. His eyes fluttered closed, boosting your confidence in your abilities probably an inch or so too high. You teased him for another moment with your tongue before you whispered,

"We will. In time." You promised, before sucking the tip into your mouth to keep him from arguing. His head tilted back as you sucked him off slowly, feeling the walls of your mouth constrict around him as you took him in deeper. He was in no position to argue when you sank your mouth down to the base, your nose brushing against a small patch of blonde curls and hummed lightly around him. His hand simply curled around the back of your head, holding but not pushing as you bobbed your head. You'd heard sounds like the sounds he'd made far too many times before, but they sounded perfectly ethereal when it was the man in front of you that made them. His hand gripped the back of your head tighter, and you felt him twitch inside your mouth. You placed a hand on his hip when his hips bucked, sending his length further down towards your throat. He was panting, a sheen of sweat covering his entire body, and his periodic twitches became more and more frequent.

"Fuck, I'm-" He cursed, letting himself fall back flat onto the bed and reaching up to tug his own hair. "I'm gonna- I'm close. Ah, fuck," And then he was spilling into your warm, waiting mouth. You sucked him down, swallowing it all and him until he was nearly begging you to stop just as you had. He was breathing heavily as he relaxed, his hand leaving your hair to rest on his chest as his orgasm wracked through him. He sighed, his body relaxed and all traces of his usual anger seeming to disappear as you tucked him back into his pants. You climbed up slowly, letting him rest and not moving to garner his attention until his eyes peeled open. His hands moved to settle on your hips, holding you to your spot on his lap. "That was," He trailed off for a moment, letting his eyes slip closed as he let out a huff of air. "That was worth the wait." He said, and it earned a small laugh from you. He smiled at your amusement, his thumb brushing your hip as he stared above at you. You ran a hand through your hair, and told him,

"Wait until we move onto your next lessons."

[swampofiniquity]

The Luckiest (Chris Redfield x Reader) Part 2

Part Two of Two

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 2,893

Summary: Round two... and three? 

Warnings: sexual content, blowjob, unprotected sex, overstimulation

Read part one here

Cross-posted to AO3

The master bathroom was what originally made you fall in love with the new house. It was huge and open, the kind you used to fantasize about when you would bang your elbow on the tiled wall every time you took a shower at your old apartment. It was technically two rooms, one for the toilet and linen cupboard, and the other housing the large walk-in shower and over-sized bathtub, both of which were more than big enough to accommodate both you and Chris comfortably.

It had been the first thing that crossed your mind when the realtor showed you the room, and you had to excuse yourself for a moment until you could get the image of your then fiance fucking you up against the shower wall out of your head. 

Chris, of course, teased you relentlessly about it on the drive on home. Until you shut him by giving him a preview of your fantasy later that night. 

He insisted on making an offer on the house the next morning. 

Now, there you were, finally a married woman, standing topless in your mostly empty bedroom while you could hear the sounds of your husband showering in the exact location of that fantasy, and you were almost too excited to move. You took a deep breath and discarded your shorts and underwear, tossing them into the careless pile that Chris had left his own clothes. He called out for you when you opened the door and finally stepped inside the already steamy room. 

“I’m starting to feel a little lonely in here all by myself.” 

You laughed. “Poor baby, I’ll be right there.” You paused in front of the mirror for a second to take your hair down, noting that you did indeed get paint in it as well as various other places on your body. You were a complete mess, but your heart clenched as you realized Chris was so enamored with you that he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

The boost of confidence put an extra sway to your hips as you walked to shower door and opened it. Chris’ eyes darkened when you climbed inside. 

“God, look at you, come here,” he beckoned, drawing you into his arms and under the warm spray of the shower head. You draped your arms around his neck, finding his skin slick with soap.

“Look at you,” you responded, moving your body against the impressive erection that now pressed against the softness of your belly. “Someone’s excited.”

"You kidding me? I've been hard since I came home to find you covered in paint and shaking your ass to that godawful music." Chris ran his hands down your back and took two handfuls of your ass, groaning as he kneaded your flesh. 

You scoffed, but it lacked any real ire. His hands on your body felt too good. "Excuse me, but Ace of Base is a treasure and I will fight you."

“Oh yeah, you think you can take me?” He waggled his eyebrows at you and flexed his chest muscles. You snorted.

“Mmmhmm, I fight dirty.” To punctuate your point, you leaned forward onto your toes and bit into the thick tendon on his neck. The hands on your ass tightened, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

“Shit - I know you do, baby.”

“Only for you,” you whispered against his wet skin. Assisted by the water, you wedged your hand between your bodies and wrapped your fingers around his cock. His hips jerked forward as you moved your slippery hand up and down, applying just enough pressure to tease.

“Fuck.” He slumped forward, resting his head heavily on your shoulder. He was so tense you could practically feel his muscles vibrating. 

You pressed a soothing kiss against his neck. “Shhh it’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Abruptly, you sank to your knees and Chris groaned, his hands traveling up your body as you went down and settling in your messy hair. His cock jumped as you looked up at him through your lashes, his body shielding you from the brunt of the shower spray. 

“I tell you lately that I’m a lucky man?” He asked as he swept your hair back from your face to get a better look at you.

“You may have mentioned it.” You leaned forward and drew his tip ever so slightly inside your mouth. He swore under his breath and gripped your shoulders. 

“Fuck, I uh, I should um probably mention it again, just so it’s clear then. Goddammit,” he groaned through gritted teeth as you started to explore his shaft with your tongue. 

You felt a sudden, familiar rush at turning such a strong, powerful man into a babbling mess. Fighting a smile, you wrapped your lips over your teeth and took him in deep. His shout echoed against the tiled walls. 

Going down on Chris had always been akin to a religious experience to you. It was primal, sure, but beautiful too, the trust and vulnerability behind the action. He wasn’t a man to lose control easily, but when you were on your knees for him, he damn near always did. Shaking and swearing and clawing at you while you worked him in your mouth. At this point, you knew his body just as well as you knew your own, and nothing felt more natural than using that knowledge to make him come undone. 

“God, you’re so p-pretty down there, baby. M-makin’ me feel so good,” he moaned, using an unsteady hand to tangle in your hair and gently urge you to move faster. You obliged, humming around him and relaxing your throat to take him even deeper, your eyes watering from the effort. 

Chris was thick enough to make your jaw ache during longer sessions, but luckily for you, he was already on the edge. You brought your hand up to massage his balls while you gradually increased your speed, letting the fingers of your other hand dig into the firm flesh of his ass. 

“Fuck, baby, please ... I’m gonna come. Can I come in your pretty little mouth?” His deep voice sounded ruined, and it brought a whoosh of heat straight to your core.  

You nodded as best you could, and moaned in encouragement. Looking up at his face, you saw his eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw clenched, his neck and chest a beautiful shade of red. You wished you could capture this moment, while he dangled so deliciously on the precipice, so you could take it out on those lonely nights when his work called him away. He was perfect like this. 

Then, the fingers in your hair tightened, the sensation just skirting the edge of pain. You shifted your concentration back on his cock, focusing on the head now, increasing suction until Chris shouted your name and finally released in thick spurts on your tongue. You swallowed it easily with him still in your mouth, the motion making his entire body tremble. 

“I am the luckiest person alive,” Chris panted, as you carefully pulled away. He caught your chin and tilted your face so he could meet your eyes. “I love you.”

You beamed up at him. “I love you too.” 

He hummed in contentment. As he trailed his fingers aimlessly through your wet hair, you leaned forward and pressed a line of kisses from one of his hip bones across his belly to the other. He shuddered, his warm skin oversensitive. 

Laughing, you reached your arms up and Chris immediately got the hint, helping you up in one smooth motion. Once you were back on your feet, he brought you in for a kiss, sliding his tongue past your lips as you opened for him. 

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. 

You patted his scruffy cheek. “Mmhm you mentioned that already, babe.” 

“I think you may have sucked my brain out,” he groaned. 

You laughed, breaking away and side stepping him so you could better reach the shower spray. The hot water would likely be running out soon, and you still desperately needed to wash your hair. Instead of getting out and toweling off, Chris settled himself heavily down on the teak shower stool, his eyes never leaving your body. 

As you started to soak your hair, you asked him - “Expecting a show?”

Chris shook his head. “I just like watching you.”

It was intensely intimate, washing yourself while he watched. Something as routine and boring as lathering shampoo felt so much heavier when you could feel his eyes on your skin, tracking every movement. It was exhilarating. 

Unfortunately, the hot water cut out in the middle of rinsing the conditioner. Your skin broke out in goosebumps as the warm water gradually turned arctic. “Fuck,” you muttered, angling and contorting your body in an attempt to only have you hair under the spray. Your loving husband laughed at you. 

“Want me to see if I can turn the water heater back on?” he asked once he finished. 

“Nah, I got the paint out of my hair. I’ll take a more thorough shower tomorrow.” Finally managing to rinse completely, you turned off the shower. You were shivering as you turned back to face Chris. 

“Come here, let me warm you back up.” He patted his thighs, drawing your eyes towards his groin. He was hard again and the sight made your knees feel like overcooked noodles. 

“Already?” You asked, closing the short distance and sitting on his lap, letting your legs frame his hips. You took a hold of his cock with your cold hands and he hissed through his teeth. 

“Your fault,” he growled into your neck before sucking deeply on the sensitive skin there. He was sure to leave a bruise and the thought of meeting the contractors tomorrow with his mark on your neck thrilled you. 

Chris’ warm, strong arms encircled you, bringing you in against his chest, and the contrast against your own cool skin was heavenly. You moaned and your grip on his cock tightened as you worked him up and down, tilting your hips so you could rub his tip against your swollen clit. His entire body tensed beneath you. 

“God, that feels good, baby. I want to fuck you so bad.” He snaked a hand between you and brushed yours away, taking his cock and rubbing it against you himself. You gasped as he moved down from your clit and pressed in, just barely penetrating you. 

“Chris, please. ” You didn’t have much leverage from your position, your feet unable to reach the floor, but that didn’t matter. He seized your ass in both hands and moved you himself, picking you up and guiding you down onto his cock. You inhaled sharply as he filled you. 

“Fuck, I missed this, missed you. I’m never leaving again, from now on my only job is to fuck you.”  You knew it was just the moment talking, that Chris wasn’t really going to suddenly quit the BSAA, but the thought still warmed you. You loved that he dedicated his life to saving and protecting others, but the selfish part of you wanted nothing more than to keep him safe and by your side at all times. 

You gripped his arms, feeling the muscles contract and release as he continued to bounce you up and down. You were still sensitive from your intense orgasm on the couch and that, coupled with how ridiculously turned you were from giving him a blowjob and the rest of your shower, had you already on edge, almost embarrassingly fast. 

“Please, don’t stop,” you urged, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his shoulder. Chris responded by increasing his pace, lifting his hips to meet yours now, and forcing little gasps to leave your lips. 

“You gonna come for me? I can feel how tight you’re getting, baby. Fuck, you squeeze me so good,” he panted, turning his head to kiss your exposed neck. 

It only took a few more thrust before your second orgasm of the night hit you. You wailed and threw your head back, your body seizing and writhing in Chris’ grip as he continued to move and thrust up into you, prolonging the intense climax. It was too much. Too good. You were simultaneously fighting him to get away and trying to pull him impossibly closer, one hand flying to the back of his head to press his face to your chest and the other grappling with his fingers on your ass, desperate to get him to stop or slow. 

Chris refused, knowing your body well enough to know that if he kept it up and you submitted, he could get you to come again. So, he shushed you, trailed loving kisses across your chest and breasts, and held on tight as you thrashed, until finally you slumped forward against him with a whimper. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. I’ve got you, baby. Relax for me.” His voice was calm and soothing, and you latched onto it like a beacon in a storm while he used his body to overwhelm yours. You took a few huge, lungfuls of air and tried to focus on submitting to the insane pleasure instead of fighting it. Your entire being was trembling as something wild built inside you. 

“Think you can come for me again, beautiful? You feel too good, I don’t think I can last.” Chris’ arms were shaking now, but he somehow kept going, relentlessly pounding you on his cock. You could do little other than whine into his neck and try to keep a tenuous grip on your sanity. 

When the final orgasm hit you, you didn’t black out, though it felt close. Your vision tunneled and you were hyper aware of the sound of your own frenetic breath and the involuntary spasms in your muscles, but it was if they were happening to someone else. For a blissful moment, you were outside your body witnessing your own ecstasy, before the powerful wave finally crested and slammed you back. 

You screamed something, whether his name or a curse or some utter nonsense you had no idea. Distantly, you were aware of Chris answering, shouting your name as he stilled. His hands dropped you full on his lap, bringing his cock impossibly deep as he came hot and wet inside you. Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes. 

“Chris,” you sobbed, chest heaving. The physical release had triggered a mental one as well, and all that stress and worry that had been weighing you down while he was away left you in a rush. The relief was palpable. 

He brought two shaky hands up to your face and you felt him place a series of sweet, brief kisses to your face. After a long, gentle kiss against your lips, he spoke. “Look at me, baby.”

You hadn’t even been aware that you had closed them again, and you opened eyes to see your husband looking at you with so much love and adoration that it 

brought on another wave of tears. He laughed softly and wiped them away as they fell. “I take it you needed that as badly as I did?” 

You could only nod and bury your face against his chest. Chris wrapped his arms securely around you, groaning as you shifted slightly, his softening cock still warm inside you. Selfishly, you wanted to keep him there all night, but you knew that the contact would soon swing from oversensitive to painful for him, so you relaxed your inner muscles and let him slip himself out. 

Chris held you for a long moment, stroking your hair and whispering honey sweet words to you as you both calmed your heart rates. It wasn’t until you started shivering again, your skin and hair still wet, that he finally stirred, turning the shower back on to clean you both up before wrapping you up in a fuzzy, warm towel. 

Your legs were still wobbly, so you kept your arms locked around his neck while he dried you both off. “How long do I have you to myself this time?” you asked, enjoying the feeling of the soft towel against your tender skin. 

“Barring another incident, I am officially on leave for the rest of the month. Plenty of time for you to get sick of me, I’m sure.” With that, Chris ditched the towels on the floor and stooped, scoping you up and onto one shoulder. 

You squealed at the sudden shift in altitude. “What are you doing?!”

Chris playfully slapped your ass, walking into the sparsely furnished bedroom. “Taking my wife to bed.” 

You giggled as he tossed you gently onto the mattress. Even without the bed-frame, the memory foam cradled your body perfectly, magnifying your boneless exhaustion. With heavy eyes, you watched Chris turn off the lights and close the door, before joining you and drawing you into his arms. 

You hummed as he kissed you. “You’re wrong though.”

“About what?” he asked around a yawn. He was starting to doze almost immediately, no longer able to fight his dopamine-flooded brain and the warm security of having you snuggled, naked in his arms. 

“I’ll never get enough of you,” you’re able to respond as you both nod off together.

[ayellowcurtain]

during the lockdown, Jens was in a very bad place and really needed Robbe so Robbe sneaked out to comfort him, and months later at a party Jens let it slips up and Sander is upset because he wanted to see Robbe so bad during quarantine but Robbe didn't sneak out to see him!

Sander quietly grabs his Coke and gets up from the floor, walking around the coffee table to go sit on the couch instead, alone with his phone. The others are too busy playing spin the bottle to notice. It’s been a chill, boring night and so they decided to play that to make the night a little more fun.

Robbe didn’t even seem to care when Jens let it slip while answering Aaron’s question of who was the last person to be with him that Robbe was the last person to be in his bed. He quickly explained that it was during lockdown, Robbe was there without Jens’ parents knowing so they couldn’t get the extra mattress that they keep on the attic, and so they had to share Jens’ bed for a day or two.

Sander unlocks his phone and opens instagram to pretend like he’s doing something, not thinking about how Robbe didn’t take his pleas seriously when he asked to meet during quarantine.

He knows Robbe was worried about his mom, and Sander too, but now knowing that he left his home anyway to go see someone else bothers Sander more than it should. Jens, of all people.

Sander puts his head back, finishing his Coke, and leaving the bottle next to him on the couch, still looking up, resting his head against the backrest.

They’re all laughing loudly, talking over each other and Sander feels like leaving, bothered by anything any of them do at this point. He tries to think of something else to stop his thoughts from spiraling, but nothing he usually does is working tonight so he gets up, taking his bottle to the kitchen, leaving inside the already half full of empty bottles sink.

Sander wishes he could have Robbe all to himself without it making him too possessive or crazy.

Sander washes his clean hands and dries them with a piece of paper towel, dropping it inside the trash on his way back to the living room, putting his phone inside his back pocket, leaning down, putting his hand on Robbe’s shoulder, kissing his forehead when he looks up, a little startled like Sander wasn’t even supposed to be there still.

“I’m leaving, okay?” He lets him know without asking if Robbe wants to join him even though he wants his boyfriend to go home with him, Sander wants Robbe to take the initiative for once.

“Okay...” Robbe answers lightly, no sign of getting up or going with Sander and Sander nods his head, accepting his shitty night.

“Okay.” He smiles and kisses Robbe’s forehead again, walking away to go grab his things before leaving, not needing any excuse to have to come back to Jens’ place any other day to come rescue his belongings.

Sander has to take Robbe’s jacket off from the knob on the wall first to be able to get his own, putting it on, moving his phone from his jeans to the inside pocket of his jacket, leaning against the wall to put his boots back on, trying to find his cheap earphones he takes anywhere he can’t take his real headphones with him. He’s sure he left them with Robbe when they got here tonight so he searches his brown jacket, trying not to think of Robbe coming here alone during lockdown to be with Jens for whatever reason.

They didn’t explain what was so important that Robbe had to leave his home during a lockdown during a global pandemic to be with Jens, but Sander didn’t care right now either, the damage was already done.

As he’s closing the door behind him, someone pulls it from the inside and Sander lets go, frowning when he sees Robbe opening the door, his cheeks still red from the sauna that’s inside, with all the doors and windows closed because of the cold winter air waiting for him outside.

“I’m coming with you!” Robbe says like that was a given, jumping a little to throw his jacket over his left shoulder, adjusting it at the front to zip up.

“You don’t have to go, Robbe. I’m just tired, in desperate need of a bed.” Robbe ignores him, jumping on one foot to put his sneaker on the other one, “It’s still pretty early.”

“I thought you understood that I was going with you.”

Sander frowns, wondering how a careless “okay” could be any indication that Robbe was following him, but he waits and doesn’t say anything. Robbe closes the door behind him and comes closer, holding Sander’s hand, kissing his lips for a second before walking downstairs with him.

It’s starting to snow outside when Sander opens the door for them, the sidewalk slowly turning grey with the thin layer of snow. Robbe sighs excitedly, looking up, the smallest snowflakes falling over them. It’s not the best idea to use the bike, but it’s better than walking while freezing. Robbe wraps both his arms around Sander’s right one while they walk across the street where Sander had left his bike.

He unlocks it while Robbe waits, following him to the street where the the snow is not having too much time to freeze against the road. He gets on his bike first to steady it and waits for Robbe to climb in front of him, looking up, asking for another kiss before leaving.

Sander kisses him softly and starts pedaling, trying to focus on his task: getting them both home safely. It’s good to keep his mind busy and present, now wandering to the things that are bothering him.

“Are you okay?” Robbe asks when they stop at an intersection, Sander having to look both ways even though Robbe already did.

“Yeah. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know...Zoe was a little worried, and you wanted to leave pretty early.”

“And so Zoe asked you if everything was okay?”

Robbe looks up suddenly, and Sander can feel that he’s finally understanding that something isn’t okay. Sander stays quiet for a little longer, not sure if he should say anything or not.

“You came to see Jens during lockdown...” Sander tries, still keeping most of his attention on what he’s doing.

Robbe finally looks down and forward, and Sander wants to stop and talk to him face to face, but it won’t help himself and his disappointment so he holds the handle tighter and waits.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Robbe looks up again, a little too drastically that the bike moves with him a little, Sander has to take them back to the side of the road, leaving more than enough room for any car.

“What are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sander clenches his jaw, wishing his home was closer to Jens’ right about now, the thin snow starting to freeze his nose and cheeks, making it a little harder to keep his eyes open so he starts pedaling faster.

“I asked you if we could meet so many times.”

“I know.”

“What was so important about him that you said yes to him and not to me?”

Robbe takes his time to answer, and Sander gets even more frustrated with his boyfriend needing time to come up with an excuse.

“Robbe.”

“I’m sorry. It was fucked up, I shouldn’t have come, I don’t have a good enough excuse to give you. He was feeling shitty because of Jana leaving, his video game was broken and he asked if I had one to borrow. I had one, didn’t know how to give it to him, he offered to come and grab at my place, but he was looking like shit so I offered to take to him. I got inside from his window, it got late and so I crashed at his place.”

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride. Robbe tries to pull some answer out of him, but Sander can’t think of one either. He parks his bike outside his house and waits for Robbe to jump out so he can do the same, grabbing his keys to open the door with Robbe closer than his own shadow, quietly holding Sander’s index finger.

His parents are probably asleep, so Sander gets inside carefully, letting Robbe hold onto to him. They take their jackets and shoes off, and go straight to Sander’s bedroom.

“Sander...I’m not going to bed if you don’t talk to me.” Robbe complains, dropping his arms against his sides, almost pouting.

“Are you completely sure you don’t have any more feelings for him?” Sander understands the look in Robbe’s eyes, widening while he also opens and closes his mouth a few times because Sander feels exactly the same, scared of what he might hear, afraid this is where he ruins everything. If he’s right, he won’t give up before trying to win Robbe back.

“No! Sander. I don’t like him. I’m not his stupid lapdog like you keep thinking I am.”

Sander exhales the long breath he didn’t know he was holding, able to move again, sit on his bed, taking his socks off, noticing how his hands are shaking a little bit.

He sees Robbe walking closer, sitting next to him, but Sander doesn’t look at him, taking his ring and watch, putting on his nightstand, turning the bedside lamp on.

“I’m so so sorry for not coming to see you. Please, believe me when I say I wanted to, so badly it was too much sometimes. I was just afraid. I didn’t think about going to Jens’ because I didn’t think I could be putting him in danger.” Sander sighs, finally looking at Robbe, not feeling like arguing.

Robbe looks down to his own hands on his lap, whispering, “And after...the video calls we did...I was insecure, and too self conscious, so freaking nervous for the first time we would see each other face to face.”

Sander tries to ignore his jealousy, carefully putting his hand over Robbe’s, “I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault. I was just afraid I was too weird during that or...did things wrong.”

Sander wonders if Robbe thinks he had ever done cybersex before, but he doesn’t ask, too tired and too cold, just needing to be with Robbe for a little bit before bed.

“You’re perfect. Always.” He moves slowly to make sure Robbe is okay when he’s close enough to leave a gentle kiss on his Robbe’s lips, just as cold as his own.

Sander pushes himself to lie down, adjusting his pillow and lifting the blankets, watching as Robbe crawls and lies under them, letting Sander wrap himself comfortably.

They can wait for a little to take their clothes off and brush their teeth. They just need a minute holding each other.

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 37

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @ijzermanora @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

took a little longer than expected. sorry for any mistakes!

~^~

Robbe’s head had stopped spinning, now that he’d spent a while sitting down, and he almost mourned the loss of the haze. It had helped him in forgetting, for a little while, when everything was fuzzy around the edges. The spinning left an ache in its wake, and regret was slowly beginning to creep in. Robbe could hold his alcohol, and his stomach, at least, hadn’t been unsettled. But his throat and eyes felt dry and prickly and his hands held an irritating tremor. He wished he’d thought to buy a bottle of water. He didn’t have any money. He wished his phone hadn’t died so he would at least have some music. He didn’t have any earphones.

He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, swallowing, wincing at the scratchiness of his throat. He sat with his coat tucked tightly around himself and his knees drawn up, forearms resting on them and hands dangling in the gap. He sat and closed his eyes and breathed and wanted to forget.

It was impossible. He hated it.

He drew his hands up and pressed the knuckles of his thumbs hard to his forehead, in a useless attempt to stave off his thoughts. He wished he had stayed at the party and drunk more, or smoked something. He wished he had never gone. He wanted to do something that would quiet his mind and set his heart racing instead. He didn’t even want to move.

The light pounding overhead also wasn’t helping his headache.

Overhead…in the gallery?

The pounding did, in fact, sound an awful lot like footsteps.

Or maybe it was just his head.

“Robbe!”

That seemed a little too loud to be in his head, but it had to be, because there was simply no other way. There was no way that what he was hearing was real. He didn’t want it to be.

There was no way Sander was really here.

“Robbe!”

The footsteps were definitely getting closer.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. He drew his knees to his chest. He sucked in his breath and held it. He was fine. He was imagining it. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be found in here. Sander wouldn’t put in that much energy. He didn’t want to see Robbe at all.

Why would he waste his time looking for him in a maze?

“Fuck, Robbe, are you here?”

They were on the same level now, definitely. Robbe slowly climbed to his feet.

“Robbe, please.”

The footsteps picked up again from where they had paused in the entrance, likely, and quickly grew closer. Robbe internally cursed and slinked farther into the maze. It didn’t matter if he was only imagining it. He was used to running from his own head.

And if it was real, then hiding was even more necessary.

Because why should he let Sander anywhere near him now?

Hadn’t it already been enough?

The footsteps paused, but Robbe barely noticed, simply kept going.

“Robbe, I can hear you.”

Robbe stilled. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the wall next to him, thinking, hating his thoughts. His heart was throbbing. There was no way he could escape without leaving it to bleed out on the floor. He hated this, hated how weak he felt, hated how easy Sander made it, how he could bring him to nothing with just the sound of his voice and the knowledge of his proximity. Robbe couldn’t even see him and still he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t have been the one hiding. Cowering. Aching. He should have been the righteous one, angry, defiant, uncaring. It should have been Sander running from him, with his tail between his legs. It should have been Sander glued to the wall, holding his breath, as if preparing for a lash to the back.

Robbe should have been chasing him down. It shouldn’t have come to this.

Why had it come to this?

~^~

Sander’s hands trembled. His heart raced. His ears strained. He’d heard Robbe, he had, he was certain of it, especially when the noise stopped after he’d called him out. He knew he would be here. He should have known right away.

It was strange, for Sander, to walk through the many pieces of art and not see any of them. To scan his eyes around and take nothing in. To find it unimportant. His muse was absent, and that was enough to leave the vibrant setting colourless. There was no beauty when his heart wasn’t with it. There was no point.

That was how he’d felt, these past two weeks, after placing his heart in Robbe’s hands and running in the opposite direction.

He had been so stupid. So careless. He had made a mistake he wasn’t sure he could ever repay. He’d hurt Robbe under the guise of protecting him, when in truth he’d been protecting himself.

He’d left Robbe in the worst possible way, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you, Robbe. Please, just let me know you’re okay,” he begged, fruitlessly, knowing Robbe would never give in, would never give himself up, was too strong for it. It was one of the many reasons Sander loved him as much as he did.

It was odd, creeping through the space on his own when he wasn’t fueled by adrenaline, but worry, though love was still thread through both. He couldn’t take in the copious amounts of graffiti, either, not even the constellation piece he’d come to adore so much that he’d recreated it. He didn’t even see any of it. All his attention was focused on the pathway ahead of him, on the gaps branching off, looking for any hint or clue, any reassurance. He knew Robbe was here. He’d known as soon as he’d stumbled off his bike and grappled at the door to find the lock had already been picked and left open. It had been reassuring, the thought that Robbe was at least coherent enough to perform such a task, and it was worrying, because that meant he was entirely sober enough to remember how much he hated Sander.

He should have just given Jens and Lucas the address. He should have trusted them to make sure Robbe was safe and kept on his path of leaving the other boy alone. It must have been what Robbe would have preferred, by now.

No, Sander thought. You need to at least give him this. He’s here because of you. He deserves better. He has always deserved better.

Determination should have been enough.

And it was enough to find him.

Sander simply had to round the corner, and there he was.

Determination was not enough to tamp down the abrupt, overwhelming fear that overcame him.

“Robbe,” he said, and it was nothing more than a choked breath to the boy’s back, but it was enough. Robbe straightened, spine unfurling to give him his full height even as he remained pressed to the wall. He did not turn to Sander. His head didn’t even seem to consider it. He remained staring in the opposite direction, hand pressed to the wall, unmoving. Sander steeled himself, ignoring the rapid race of his pulse, and took a few steps forward, then on, around Robbe until he could stand in front of him. Finally face to face.

His breath caught. He was unsure what he had expected, but he found himself surprised to see Robbe so unchanged and entirely unfamiliar.

His eyes were still the same sweet brown. His lips were still soft and mildly chapped. His hair was still the same unruly mess of curls. His jacket was still the same familiar brown. He looked tired. His doe eyes were dull, complete with bags underneath, and his cheeks seemed hollow, his lips downturned. This wasn’t so unfamiliar. This was conceivable.

What gave Sander pause was the entire absence of emotion.

There were many times Robbe had looked at him, when he’d still seemed mysterious, and Sander had struggled to figure out what he was feeling. Robbe kept his heart safely tucked away in his chest, not visible to everyone, and Sander had gotten used to searching for more subtle signs.

But never, in any of their encounters thus far, had Sander ever looked at Robbe and deemed him cold.

Now, that seemed to have changed.

Sander deserved it. He knew he did.

It tore what was left of his heart to shreds.

“Robbe,” he repeated, equally as cracked, when their eyes finally met. He made the mistake, then, of reaching out.

Robbe flinched away before taking three entire steps back. “Don’t.”

His voice was almost as broken as Sander’s, barely more than a croak. But it was likely weakened by alcohol and disuse. Sander didn’t let himself believe that it was a glimpse of the emotion seeping through, because then he would let himself hope. Because whether it be hurt or mere anger, it meant, in some way, that Robbe hadn’t stopped caring.

“Sorry,” Sander whispered. Robbe was no longer looking at him, but a point over his shoulder. Sander leaned forward in preparation to take a step, and Robbe took another one back. Sander rooted himself to his spot. “Robbe, I’m so sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

Cold.

Sander swallowed, licked his lips, tried to choose his words carefully. “Lucas texted me. You freaked them out, when you disappeared and they couldn’t find you. Lucas just asked me if I knew where you would be.”

“So why didn’t you tell him?”

Sander thought it probably wouldn’t work in his favour to tell Robbe that he’d been wondering the same thing. “I needed to see you myself. To know you were okay.”

Robbe scoffed, and then he was the one taking a step forward. Not, Sander knew, in an aching desire to be closer, but in a short burst of anger. “You wanted to know I was okay? You want to pretend you care about me now again, is that it?”

“Robbe, I never pretended to—“

“Don’t,” Robbe cut him off sharply. Sander noticed his chest was heaving, his breaths beginning to stutter. “Don’t lie to me anymore. They freaked you out, right? And you couldn’t stand the idea of being the bad guy, of feeling responsible, so you thought you’d play hero for them. As if they need you to prove anything. Well, bravo, Starman. Mission complete. You don’t need to worry.”

The words cut deep, as Sander assumed they were supposed to, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. It was clear, in fact, that Robbe probably thought they would glance off Sander entirely. That Sander didn’t care.

“I’m not lying. I’m not playing. I swear, Robbe. I am so sorry. But I didn’t lie about what you think. I didn’t lie about you.”

Robbe’s hands curled into his fists. His lips pursed tightly together.

He finally looked sad.

He looked, more than anything, like what he was. He was young, and small, and vulnerable, and scarred, and scared. Sander realised suddenly that he had always been all of those things—that the weight of the world on Robbe’s shoulder had never been placed there by Sander. He wasn’t holding it up for him. He wasn’t collapsing because of him.

But Sander had added to it, and he’d done so while thinking he was lessening the burden.

“Then what did you lie about, Sander? What did you mean? Why did you tell me that you…” Robbe trailed off, and Sander understood, with a pang, that he couldn’t say the word.

“I love you.”

Robbe’s eyes glistened. He slowly shook his head.

Sander chanced a step forward. Robbe remained where he was.

“I love you, Robbe,” Sander repeated, finding it easy. This wasn’t where he was lacking surety. He had known this long ago, he had known this before Robbe had known him, and he had never cast it in doubt. No matter what his mind told him, no matter what he let his parents believe, Sander knew this sole fact without a hint of doubt. The expanse and the strength of his feelings for Robbe could have never been fabricated, never a lie. Even Sander wasn’t capable of such artistry. “I meant it. I would never have said it if I didn’t. I meant it that day and long before that and I mean it now. I love you. I mean it.”

Robbe’s fists slowly unfurled. His lips had parted slightly, better to tremble, and Sander ached to brush his fingers over them and set them at ease beneath his own. He had always been better with touch. It was an artistic form much easier learnt than words.

But he knew there was a lingering bubble around Robbe that only a true explanation could hope to penetrate. He knew that it wasn’t easy, and he was going to have to learn fast.

“How do you expect me to believe you,” Robbe whispered, “when you said that only to suddenly act like I didn’t exist?”

Sander could answer that one. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have even known where to go. It killed me to do that, Robbe. It’s been killing me everyday.”

Robbe flitted his gaze aside, shaking his head and biting at his lip. It was strange to think Sander had already seen him cry and was now astonished at the possibility of tears. But the truth was, there was no one more expressive than Robbe, when he stopped hiding. There was nothing to stop every emotion from laying itself out on his face when he let it. When he gave in to it.

Sander found himself relieved that one of those times was now. It was dangerous, that relief.

He was letting himself hope.

“Then why…” Robbe started, trailed off, still shaking his head. “Sander, what happened? You asked me to forgive you. You begged me. You knew what you were doing.”

Sander nodded, ashamed. He’d know exactly what he was doing. Even before leaving Robbe’s arms that day in his appartment, he knew what he was doing. He knew he couldn’t come back.

But he couldn’t leave Robbe without telling him the truth. Without making sure he knew how Sander felt. He hadn’t thought about how much worse it would make things—how much more confusing it would be for Robbe. He’d thought, as it was clear to him, that it would be clear to the other boy as well. That he was doing this because he loved him. That it was never Robbe’s fault.

It was a smaller stupid mistake amongst the larger one. Sander was realising stupid mistakes were his habit.

“What happened?” Robbe pressed. “What did I do wrong?”

“Not you,” Sander shook his head, rapid and vehement. This was what he hadn’t wanted. He’d thought Robbe would simply blame and hate Sander. “You didn’t do anything. It’s—it’s me. It’s what’s wrong with me.”

Robbe’s brow furrowed, and then he took a cautious step forward. Sander refused to now be the one to move away, but he shrunk slightly. Robbe’s shoulders slumped. “What do you mean? Why won’t you just tell me? It’s not fair—“

“I’m bipolar.”

Robbe’s lips snapped shut. Sander forced himself not to look away as he stared. “What?”

There was no backing out now. Sander swallowed, and managed to straighten his spine, and resisted the urge to reach out. Robbe’s touch would have helped, would have soothed him exponentially. Sander ached for it often, but never quite as much as he did now. Now, when he was entirely undeserving. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. Maybe I should have told you right away, but I–I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Robbe’s brows had knit together, his lips turned down in a frown. He reached a hand out then quickly dropped it back to his side. Sander’s body screamed. “You’re serious.”

Sander gave a small nod. He licked his lips at the realisation Robbe was still waiting—that he wasn’t going to demand answers or run away, but he was giving Sander time to explain on his own. Sander wasn’t sure where to start, but he supposed the best idea was to go from the beginning.

“I was only diagnosed this summer. Just before school. In July, I—I was feeling really good. I was so happy in myself. My art was flowing out of me. I had all these amazing ideas. I didn’t realise that I was starting to get annoying, that my parents, my friends thought I was being weird and I was just elated. I took a special interest in graffiti. I was seeing all these pieces around the city, and I thought, ‘I can do better than that’. So I tried to. I was going to do it on this big wall of an old warehouse, and I had a ladder and everything...and I fell. Not from that high, but it was just—it was so stupid. I broke my arm, and my hand. My parents didn’t really think anything of it, it was just ‘what were you thinking’ and ‘why didn’t you at least tell us’ and ‘you need to be more careful’. But I broke my hand. I suddenly couldn’t do the one thing I loved most, the one thing I had been spending all of my time on. And it felt like the end of the world. It was like, without even realising it, I’d only been getting out of bed to draw, and suddenly that reason was taken from me. I didn’t see the point anymore. It sounds ridiculous, I know, even I can see that now but at the time it—I think it was the last straw.”

Robbe, carefully, but without hesitance, reached out and took his hand. Sander’s breath hitches. Robbe gazed down at it as he ran his thumb over Sander’s knuckles, then the slight, barely-noticeable crook of his ring finger. He looked back up at Sander, and their eyes met, and Sander was suddenly—and relievingly—flooded with a familiar warmth.

“At first, it still seemed fine, from the outside. I didn’t have many friends, just Lucas and Noor, and they had their own lives and I wasn’t spending much time with them anyway. My hobby was gone. It was summer, I had nothing to do. It wasn’t concerning when I spent that first whole day in my bed. It was a little strange that I didn’t want to eat, but I was grumpy teenager sulking because he had messed up. Then after three days, it suddenly didn’t seem normal, and after a week, my mother was almost crying trying to get me to eat, and they forced me to go see someone. Then suddenly I had all this medication and a therapy appointment and everyone staring at me like I was pitiful. And I didn’t want it. It terrified me. I’d always known that I—that sometimes I had these thoughts that were darker than they should have been and that I got in these low moods but it was never…”

He lost his rhythm, his next breath shaking, and Robbe gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have family dinners on Wednesdays.”

It wasn’t a question. Sander shook his head anyway. “That’s when I have my sessions,” he mumbled.

Robbe’s jaw worked. His eyes were still flitting around. Sander watched his throat as he swallowed. “Why did you never just tell me that?”

“I didn’t know how,” Sander said, voice cracking, knowing it was a pathetic excuse. “I still didn’t know how to manage it myself. I hadn’t even started going to therapy before I met you. Everything felt different, wrong, when I came back to school. Nothing felt good anymore. And then there was you. And I still had the same, hopeless crush on you that I’ve had for almost a year.”

Robbe’s eyes widened, surprised, but Sander didn’t let him derail him, not now when he was finally getting the words out.

“And then suddenly you were showing interest in me too. And it was a distraction, and it was exciting, and it made me feel good. And at first I was so scared to feel that, because what if it was just like before, and I was just latching onto it and imagining things that weren’t there and I would take it too far?”

Robbe shook his head, softly, and now his expression had grown fearful. He dropped Sander’s hand. “So it—it wasn’t real?”

“No, Robbe, that’s not—“ Sander shook his head desperately, reaching out to grab both of Robbe’s hands, relieved when Robbe let him. “That’s not it. Nothing is better than you.”

It seemed to do the trick. Robbe softened enough to roll his eyes at hearing his own words turned on him. Then a lightbulb seemed to suddenly go off. “It was my fault. When I was talking about my mom...it made you run. Fuck, Sander, what did I say?”

Sander shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I should never have left you like that. Robbe, I am so sorry. But I would never lie about loving you. You aren’t alone, Robbe. You don’t have to be.”

He inched himself closer, and Robbe gazed up at him with lingering doubt, eyes flickering all over his face in search of a lie. Sander carefully raised his hand to his face, cupping his cheek, but he went no further. He leaned his head down, just enough, and tried to convey his honesty, tried to portray his relief and the growing bubble of hope in his chest.

But Robbe didn’t kiss him. Instead he slid his hand to the back of Sander’s neck and drew their foreheads together, looking at him seriously.

“I love you,” he said simply. Sander’s breath left him in a rush and Robbe’s lips ticked up in a smile. “You didn’t let me say it back.”

Sander shook his head in disbelief. A smile was beginning to take over his own face, and he was desperate for Robbe to roll his eyes and kiss it away, as he usually would have done. Instead he gave the back of Sander’s neck a squeeze.

“And you aren’t too much,” he whispered, letting their lips brush just slightly, leaving Sander’s heart stuttering even as his hands steadied, all of his muscles sagging in relief. “But you’re more than enough.”

Sander clenched his eyes shut, then his jaw, and finally let himself relax as Robbe’s nose brushed against his before he closed the rest of the distance.

Sander could have collapsed under the wave of sudden emotion. He felt a bit like a puppet with his strings cut, the tension that had always held him still finally released. He held onto Robbe to make up for it, pressing close, drawing him in with the hand on his cheek and another on his waist. Robbe gripped his neck and sighed against his mouth, lips locking and molding and parting in tandem. Sander’s heart—his whole chest—his whole body—was on fire. He had missed this desperately. He had missed Robbe desperately. He couldn’t fathom, in this moment, ever having the strength to leave him.

“Fuck,” he murmured, “I missed you.”

“Good,” Robbe mumbled back. “Then you won’t be that stupid again.”

“Never,” Sander promised, sealing it with a kiss. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

Robbe hummed. “I already have a few ideas.”

They found themselves (momentarily) kissed-out, minutes or hours later, and had instead settled themselves against one of the many walls of the maze. They had remembered, in a brief break in which they’d detached themselves, to message Jens and Lucas, reassuring them they were both fine. (They’d done so with a selfie, their cheeks pressed together and a smile on their lips. Jens had had a few choice words for Robbe. Lucas had sent Sander six eye-rolling emojis, followed by a single heart.) The constellation art faced them as Robbe rested against Sander’s shoulder. Sander lay his head on Robbe’s, occasionally turning to press kisses to his hair.

“The stars look different like this, too,” Robbe mumbled, sounding half-asleep.

Sander gazed down at him, amused. “Like what?”

Robbe shrugged. “Happy.”

Sander’s heart filled with warmth as he dragged him into another kiss.

[sinner-as-saint]

Ransom snooping through your belongings and finding your sex toys 🥵

Rough daddy!Ransom hcs??? I beg 🥺

Mean!daddy ransom headcannons pweeease

a/n: Writing for all these in one because why not, right? 

Ugh... my favorite trust fund prick...

Oh but he’d be furious?

Because how dare you keep your sex toys around when he’s right here to give you all that you could ever want or desire

I believe it’d hurt his ego honestly 

He’d question himself, only a little insecure at first, does he not satisfy you anymore? 

Then that insecurity would quickly morph into irritation, then a burning need to prove you wrong and prove his point

He needed you to know that he could satisfy you 

And he wanted to show you that you had no use for these toys, and he had a devious plan in mind

Sooner or later, he’d confront you about it, shamelessly

“Babe, what are these?” he’d ask, probably holding them right in front of your face

He’d catch you totally off guard too, so there was no way you could fabricate a lie or anything

But upon seeing the sly smirk on his face, you decided to play along and test his limits

“Oh those? They’re so good to me on days when you can’t make me cum.” you’d reply, noticing how he tried his hardest to contain himself

He did

Until he couldn’t 

Oh but imagine angry sex with Ransom? 

Him furiously trying to prove that you do need him, not those toys

He’d be rough

And mean

But so good that you could never ask him to stop

He’d push you down on your bed, and climb on top of you; straddling your thighs and 

He’d grab your jaw and force you to look at him

“You said these were good, huh? Well i’m gonna show you just how good they are, babygirl,” he’d whisper dangerously, lips hovering just above your skin. 

He’d be the type to grip your jaw while kissing you; claiming you as his

He wouldn’t even bother getting you out of your underwear, he’d just tease your clothed core with his tongue first

Then he’d mess you up with his fingers, edging you each time

Then finally your toys; the white vibrator wand and one of your plugs

He’d take his time with both; first the plug then the vibrator

“What was it you said?” he’d taunt you while pushing the plug gently into your puckered hole, “I can’t make you cum?” 

His tone showed how pissed he was at that

“Well, I’m gonna show you just that baby,” 

His words didn’t really make sense at first

But then they did

You moaned as he placed the tip of the vibrator over your now wet, clothed core

You whined as he moved the wand around. 

He moved it over your clit, just to make you whine even harder because he loved hearing you moan for him

And just when you felt like you were about to come undone, he’d lift the vibrator off you

You’d whine out loud after being denied your orgasm

“You’re such a whining brat, aren’t you?” 

“Well, what are you complaining about? Didn’t you say I can’t make you cum?” 

Ransom repeated his actions again 

And again

And again until you couldn’t take it 

You whine and whimpered for him but he just planned on edging for as long as he could

He’d grip your hair or your jaw to get you to look at him each time he’d deny you your release

He liked the look of desperation in your eyes

“Beg for me” 

He’d be so careless and selfish with your body

He’d have you however he’d like; 

On all fours

Kneeling on the floor

Kneeling on the floor with his cock in your mouth

“Daddy, please...” you’d whine and beg constantly

He’d just smirk and keep toying with you

“Oh but I thought your toy was so good to you, wasn’t it.”

“Your little toys aren’t so good now, are they baby?” 

He’d push his fingers into you occasionally, curling them and massaging your walls all while looking deep into your eyes

Your eyes would water because you were nothing but a tear stained, whimpering mess under him

“Aww, is my dumb baby crying?” he’d tease and then go on to edge you again

And again

At some point he’d see that you were physically incapable of taking any more of his teasing and he’d finally give it a rest

“Look at you, fucking dripping all over my hand and I haven’t even fucked you properly yet,” 

Eventually he’d fuck you good for a long while

Making sure you came each time

OMG imagine him making you count each time he made you cum?

Because that’s totally something Ransom would do

By the time he was done with you; you’d be a complete mess; covered in hickies and his cum all over your thighs

“Look at me,” his voice would be so deep after sex

You’d look up at him, lifting your head from his chest

“How many times was that?” 

“Six” you’d reply and blush, and hide your face in his chest again 

a/n: *sighs* 

Ransom Tag List:

@voraciousslut

Everything Tag List:

@charmed-asylum

@ravenmoore14

@stangirl-fangirl264

@xbuckxnastyx

@qrndevans

@starkerhowlter

@fafulous

@smolandrare-coffee-bean

@alexxcorona113

@heartislubbingdubbing

@buggy-blogs

@livsheph

@tt-nikithakppr

@chowder200

@curlyhairedandconfused

@beckloves

@inez-lannister-stark-martell

@amantedelcalcio

@reniescarlett

@rocknrollsinner

@siriusjohnpotter

@scarygoodgirl

@ladymidnightt

@the-illusion-of-a-kiss

@unlikelycandylove

@fentybucky

@marshyrebelcloud

@talk-geek-to-me

@antisocialvscovibes

@tasteslikeblueberries

@the-jer-bear

@aynaraxas

@dreams-in-blxck

@socksracoon10

@moony-tonks-lupin

@anncutamarica

@secretlyactivated

@xoxabs88xox

@noirwarrior20

@chrisevansgirl

@starydreamer

[gorochanfanclub]

Little Things

Nishiki x Unanmed Female Character

Summary: Request from @kippkapp​ -  

Hi there! Could I request a fic (or HCs, either is fine) where Nishiki's s/o enjoys to pamper him love and affection?

Sometimes a small gesture can brighten a long, tiring, day. 

Contains: Fluff, a bit of angst, a singular curse word

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for 100 followers. It really means a lot to me that I’ve gained that much in just a short amount of time. Numbers really aren’t that important but the kindness and nice words I’ve received from other writers has meant the world to me! I hope you all enjoy this fic and the ones to come! Thank you @kippkapp​ for the suggestion and thank you all for following me!!

The rain had started to pick up halfway through his walk home. What started as a small pitter patter on the black pavement, barely felt on his skin, had turned into a steady fall of water, beginning to soak through the shoulder of his white suit and weigh him down. 

Hair sticking to his cheeks as he trudged through the streets, Nishiki kept wishing for the day to finally be over. Another long day of trying to keep his family together, worrying to death about Kiryu in prison, and living in fear someone would find out about what he had done had finally built up so much inside him, it took all of his power to not just collapse in the street, waiting for the rain to wash him away. 

Looking up to the second floor of his apartment complex, he sees a small, gold light shining through the window of the place he called home. A slight, tired, smile tugs at the edge of his lips, a small bit of pressure lifting off him, despite the rain making his clothes heavier by the minute. 

With weary legs, he climbs up the steps, feeling like he was climbing Mount Fuji in its entirety. Every step felt like it would be his last and he almost worried he didn’t have enough energy to finish his ascent. 

Finally and triumphantly making it to the top, he sighs, running a cold, wet, hand through his equally cold, wet, hair. Luckily, up here, on the balcony outside his apartment, there was some refuge from the rain. 

Walking up to his door, he rummages in his pockets, looking for his keys. He didn’t forget them back at the office did he? Are you fucking kidding me? He thinks as he huffs, silently berating himself for being so careless. 

Suddenly, before he even has the chance to knock, the door swings open violently. The wind it created caused his wet hair to sway slightly, his head darting up to see the smiling face in front of him. 

“Akira-chan,” she beams, “You’re finally home!” Pulling him in by the black cuff of his shirt, she shuts the door behind him, “I was getting worried you wouldn’t be home before the rain really picked up. You left your umbrella here again.” 

As Nishiki slips his shoes off, placing them gently next to hers, she notices the damp spots on his shoulders, darkening his white blazer to a dull gray. “Akria!” she worries, eyes wide. 

He looks up, eyes heavy with fatigue. A neat, black, eyebrow raises in response, “Yeah, hun?” She rushes behind him, slipping his suit coat off before he can protest, “Look at you, you’re soaked already.” Laying the wet fabric on her arm and walking out of the room she mutters to herself, “I know I should have made you take the umbrella.” 

Looking around, Nishiki can see not only had his girlfriend done some tidying up waiting for him, she’d boiled a pot of water too. On the counter next to the kettle she bought as a housewarming gift to him, set the tea and two cups for the both of them. 

She comes back into the room, a t-shirt and a fluffy towel replacing his jacket on her arm. The woman thrusts the items at Nishiki, mumbling with a bashful smile, “As cute as you look with your hair all wet, I’d hate for you to get sick, Akira-chan.” 

Hands like ice reach out to take the shirt and towel. With an equally bashful nod, he smiles, “Thanks, baby.” Gently drying his hair, the fabric muffling his words, he feels free to mutter, “You’re too good for me.” 

Clinking sounds from the kitchen pull him from his self pity, Nishiki dropping the towel on the nearest piece of furniture he could find. She calls to him from the counter, a beaming smile flashing him over her shoulder, “You want your tea like usual?” 

With a tilt of his head he walks up to inspect her work. Wrapping his arms firmly around her warm, dry, waist, he watches her pour the green powder into the cups of steaming liquid. “What’s my ‘usual’?” he questions with a laugh. 

His dry chuckle earned one from her in response, “You’re joking right?” craning her neck to look at him, she smirks, softly, “You like yours with extra froth.” 

The sparkle in her eyes at that moment seemed to intense at least threefold. The smoothness of her voice and the sincerity of her words captured Nishiki in a trance. He could feel her leaning back into his arms as they tightened around her ever so slightly.

He couldn’t even begin to quell the beating of his heart, either. A heat rose to his angular cheeks as he nodded, “Yeah… I do.” A pair of devilishly soft lips connect to his jaw and the heat becomes more prominent. “I… I didn’t think you’d remember,” he admits.

Looking down at her hands, he watches them prepare his tea, just the way he likes. How had she managed to keep such a small, insignificant, detail in that busy head of hers? Why was he worth remembering at all? 

It was no secret to anyone Nishiki didn’t garner respect from any person in this town. Oftentimes he felt like giving up, folding in half on the ground and waiting for the world to end his suffering. No one cared about him, no one would notice. Yet, something about the tea in front of him was beginning to make him think differently. 

After working up a Nishiki amount of foam at the top of his tea, she turns in his arms. With a soft, caring hand, she reaches out to his, grasping it gently. With her other, she places the warm porcelain into his palm, urging his fingers to take hold of it. 

Doing so, his eyes never once leave hers. Even in the dim light of their one bedroom apartment, they shone like stars. Gleaming, sparkling, and beaming with pure adoration… for him. They looked like warm pools of steaming hot springs water, so inviting and comforting. If he could, he’d swim in them forever. 

Bringing the tea to his lips, he tilts his head back, feeling the froth of the tea smooth over his tongue. It really was good. As the tea warmed his stomach, the thought put into it warmed his heart. 

Nishiki sets the porcelain cup back down on the counter, the sound of it clinking onto the wood echoing in the room. Wrapping his arms back around her, he pulls her close to him. His nose, still damp from the rain, buries into her hair. Hands splayed across her back, feeling the fuzzy fabric of her sweater, he sighs. 

A clench in his chest becomes prominent, as well as a stinging in his eyes. Nishiki chokes back the feeling, not wanting to add crying to an already horrible day. Feeling her hand reach up to grace the back of his head, he whispers to her, “I missed you so much today, you know that?” 

She chuckles, her chest vibrating against his in their soft embrace. “I missed you too, Akira-chan. I always miss you…” 

That last comment caused him to squeeze her just a little bit tighter, almost afraid that if he let go even a little, she would walk out of his arms and out of his life forever. Digging his fingers into her shirt, he prays the moment will never end. 

Gentle fingers begin to card through his hair, the sensation easing some of the tension in his shoulders. Leaning her head against his, she whispers, “Why don’t we take this to the futon, baby?” 

Nishiki leans back, nodding meekly before she takes his hand in hers, gracefully leading him to their bed in the corner of the room. It was already laid out and neatly made for the evening, his favorite set of night clothes folded on his pillow, waiting for him. 

She pulls him down, leaning up against the wall. He falls onto the soft cushion, his head resting in her lap. Glancing upwards, he is met with a sweet smile that makes him nearly melt into a puddle in her embrace. 

Repeating her action from moments ago, she begins swiping her hands through his slowly drying, silky, black locks. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, nearly purring at the movement of fingers against his scalp. 

Being in her arms felt like laying on a cloud, nothing in this world was more soft, more gentle, more calming than feeling her with him. It was smoother than the foam of vigorously whisked matcha. The aftertaste of the tea on his tongue was the sweet reminder of the love she harbored for him. Licking his lips, he smiles, remembering its earthy taste and frothy texture. 

“So…” she mutters, never once ceasing her hands, “You wanna talk about it?” 

He only hums, barely able to pull himself out of his trance. It was like she was a magic sorceress, and he was nowhere near strong enough to resist her spell. 

Her light laugh only solidified his thought as he silently swooned at the sound. “Akira-chan, baby, you don’t have to act all tough around me.” 

Finally, he turns over in her lap, resting the back of his head on her thigh to look at her better, “What do you mean?” 

Reaching up, a light knuckle traces down his cheek and across his jaw, tilting his chin up just a hair, “I could tell the second you walked into the door, something was wrong.” 

The gleam in her eyes seems to spark for a brief moment as she leans down, pressing her lips gently to his. Not able to resist himself, Nishiki holds her head to his, gripping her hair and deepening the kiss. Moving his warming lips against her, he feels the last bit of stress from the day float away, like the magic of her mouth had carried it off. 

Loosening his grip on her, he glides his palm down to her cheek, their faces only inches apart. As she regains her breath, the air tickles his nose, sending a comfortable shiver down his spine. “You know me so well, baby.” 

She holds his hand to her face, sandwiching his skin between hers, trying to capture the feeling of him on her. A warm smile spreads across her face as she sighs. 

She knew what he meant by that, what he had wanted to say. It was obvious from the grateful look in his eye to the way his thumb was dragging across her cheekbone. Instead of responding, she only nods, pressing her lips to his once more. 

If this was how every rainy day would end, Nishiki thought, then maybe he was going to start praying for more bad weather.

[dini73]

Together - Chapter 5

A little something for a special someone on a special day.

Boom!

“Ah, fuck!”

Tommy startled awake, still half asleep, trying to make sense of the dull bang that penetrated his dreams, followed closely by Alfie, cursing like in the old days. Only, well… only it nothing was like it was back then. No wait, that wasn’t true, this voice, his voice still provoked that strange feeling of excitement tension and warmth Tommy would never get tired of and dreaded ever losing.

He forced himself not to drift back to sleep to dwell in memories, realizing that he was here, by his side. That he had been for decades now. That it was real. That there was a they. They. Him. Alfie…Alfie – a painful moan reached the covers and settled on Tommy’s pillow. It whispered in his ear. Yeah, Alfie. Alfie. Oh shit!

“Alfie?! You alright?”

“Did that fucking sound alright to you, Thomas?”

Drowsily, Tommy reached for the bed side lamp, pinching the bridge ofhis nose when he sat up on their bed. His heart was racing after he realized he had nearly fallen asleep again.  He forced himself to open his eyes and saw that the chair Alfie used to put his clothes onto when he undressed, had fallen over and blocked the door. Alfie himself was leaning onto that door; he’d obviously been trying to get out, and was now panting, his face was contorted with pain.

As fast as his stiff bones allowed Tommy rushed out of the bed and over to him, getting the chair and lifting it up with one hand, while reaching around Alfie’s shoulder with his other arm.

“Hey, Alfie?”

Alfie leaned into Tommy’s embrace, closed his eyes, wishing he’d hear anything like “sweetheart” or “love” added to the question. But Tommy had never used any pet names for him, not in all these years and Alfie felt an anger crept up from his belly, through his throat, up to the head, which felt incredibly hot, before he freed himself from the hug and spit out:

“Alfie what? Alfie Solomons, yeah? Why don’t you call me Mr. Solomons, hm?!”

“What? Alfie, what…why were you stumbling around in the pitch dark?”

“Oh, fuck you, THOMAS! I have to piss, I couldn’t sleep, I miss Errol and I am fucking blind! It’s always damn dark for me now!”

Okay, that blow had hit.

Leaning against each other and the dark wooden door, their bodies were pressed together close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats drumming between their chests, to feel the other man’s breath upon their cheeks. Tommy had to pull himself together with all the control he had left in order not to lose his composure. He wished scenes like this would be new for him, but they had invaded their life more and more often during the last months, eating away Tommy’s strength and energy like a plague. He loved this huge, warm, and bearded manifest of intellect, wit, power, and ailment so much. He loved his solid rock and still there was nothing he could do but watch as this once indestructible mountain slowly but constantly being eaten away by that corrosive bacterium.

All his life there was nothing Tommy feared more than being helpless. And now he had to watch helplessly as Alfie’s health was getting worse and the once intimidating man appearing more and more a shadow of his former self. Since he could remember, Tommy had never allowed himself to show any weakness, he simply couldn’t for the sake of survival, and he wouldn’t start to do so now.

While Tommy knew that Alfie was slightly exaggerating about being blind, he also knew that the emphasize was on ‘slightly’; Alfie was still able to see most of the things that went on in the light of day, but only  just barely. But losing his beloved Errol a few months ago had been a true tragedy to Alfie from which he seemed unable to recover.

Alfie had always loved the dog deeply, but the more his eyesight has been decreasing, the greater his love and dependence on his loyal companion had become.

What Alfie needed now he could only get from the man he had spent the last decades with.

Tommy had to shift his head away from their closeness a bit to move the chair out of the way.  Pushing Alfie out into the hall then there was no need to say anything. They didn’t need words to know that Alfie was sorry for yelling and grateful to have Tommy by his side. They knew Tommy was deeply sorry for Alfie’s loss and that it tormented and frustrated him to no ends that he could neither bring back Eroll nor Alfie’s eyesight.

“You gonna wait here, listen to me taking a piss?” Alfie’s deep voice grumbled.

“Guess I’d rather wait here and listen to you cursing me and the whole fucking world, eh?” Tommy rasped back.

“A clever man you are Thomas Shelby, always have been.” Alfie went on rambling while he went into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Tommy couldn’t help but smile when he leaned onto the wall. “So it was my intellect then that captured you and made you stay by m…” He had to clear his throat. There was no reason to be asking this question, even if meant as a joke. Tommy felt the years aching in his bones. Looking up the ceiling, a headache creeping up the back of his head, he longed for a cigarette. He hadn’t had this desire in forever. But right now, he wished he could smoke nonchalantly and then casually accompany Alfie back to the bedroom. But the old walls of their home had long since ceased to see anything that resembled nonchalance.

From inside the bathroom came a disgruntled shout: “Oi Tommy, lavender? That how you like me to smell for you now?!”

Alfie was welcomed with a beautiful smile when he stepped out of the bathroom. Over the years the number of smiles had grown, but they were never quite enough, if you asked Alfie. The good thing about them was, that they had been sincere ever since Tommy had come to Margate. So, it was pretty much the only thing Alfie had never teased Tommy about throughout all their time together, cherishing them far too much.

And Tommy, well he had just grabbed that bar of soap during his last shopping in a hint of sentimentality. Why not think back to the women in his life with a certain heartfelt nostalgia? It hadn’t just been Lizzie who liked this smell, no, the most cherished memory about this tiny violet piece of scented soap was that his mother had used for special occasions. Not that she had many occasions to use it; more often, it was the scent of curd soap that Tommy remembered when he thought of his mother. But the lavender brought with it more pleasant, optimistic memories of her.

“You coming? Or planning on getting me pneumonia?”

Startled from his thoughts, Tommy offered Alfie his arm. A few years ago, this gesture had still felt strange to him, but Alfie loved being able to hold on to his arm. Thinking about it now, the occasions when Alfie had gently nestled on his arm had been rare. He'd used Tommy's arm more often to hold it almost painfully, or pushed it down in a last rebellion, as if to prove to Tommy that he still had the upper hand. But Tommy had never bothered. He knew Alfie would always be the stronger one of them, in many ways. Not to mention, he was the only person to whom Tommy had ever given himself completely, who he’d opened himself up to.

Tonight, they both seemed to dwell in the warmth of one and another’s heat, enjoying their closeness. And no grudge was held when Tommy helped Alfie climb to bed, instantly nestling up to him under the same blanket.

It was overwhelming, and who was Alfie to complain about the sudden closeness?  A closeness he had longed for too long, a closeness that had always been so hard to get from Tommy even when they were physically close.

And now he couldn’t do anything but close his useless eyes and lean into Tommy’s touch, a touch that felt like velvet floating over noble wood as Tommy caressed Alfie’s cheek. Those rugged cheeks that needed to be awoken by Tommy’s fingertips like jagged rocks thirsting for a cold stream. Tommy traced every furrow life had drawn as carefully as if Alfie would burst into a thousand pieces under his touch.

Alfie inwardly rolled his eyes and let out a low grunt.

“Hmm?”

“Now, look at my little fawn.”

“God, Alfie. Fawn?” Tommy couldn’t help but laugh against Alfie’s neck- he had just wanted a kiss.

“That’s by far the most ridiculous name you have ever given me,” he said, smiling lovingly and planting a heartfelt kiss on Alfie’s dry lips. But the latter broke it and stated:

“Hmm, might be, Tommy boy. But fitting. Look at you, as delicate as ever and still on guard.” His voice got lower and nearly broke when he whispered: “Always afraid something would startle you.”

The accusation slightly lingering between them, Tommy pressed his body against the man he loved dearly.

“Nothing could have ever scared me off once I finally had the guts to get here, Alfie and you know that.”

“What…” Alfie tried to ask, confused, as he felt Tommy slowly climbing over him, a skinny leg now next to each of his thighs. But before Alfie could form his question Tommy’s thick hands cupped his face. Hands that Alfie had always thought too bulky for the rest of the fine body.

“Listen to me, Alfie Solomons.” And it was from the experience of many years together, rather than what he could see now, that Alfie felt how icy blue eyes penetrated his soul, boring through his heart on their way. He swallowed hard.

“I will never leave you.”

And before either of them had the chance to even think or breath Tommy clashed their lips hungrily together.

Shivering lips opened like the starving mouth of a young bird savoring the hot tongue that demanded attention.

Their aching bodies started to grind against each like a ritual of a thousand years, something that had always been there. Or at least should have been. Their worn bodies fitting into the other one as if some gracious god had created them for nothing else.

And suddenly, they were not old men, long forgotten by the ones that had once feared them. No, they were some careless, strong men, vibrating with life and youth, exchanging all the delicious fluids the body could offer. They were meant for this. They were meant for each other. They were meant to be together. Forever.

Their orgasms hit them hard. Almost too exhausting but for the amazing high it rendered.

Fast, restless breaths echoed throughout their room as they tried to come back to their senses. Slipping out, Tommy lay down on his back, shuffling as close to Alfie as possible.

And for a while they just lay there.

Both stared at the ceiling for a while before their hands found each other and their fingers gently stroked over the other's soft, wrinkled skin.

They knew this was exactly what they had always longed for, had desperately searched for during their youth and then later thought they could find it with somebody else.

A wave of unbelievable gratitude took hold of Tommy as Alfie’s voice drifted through his post-coital bliss.

“Guess what I heard today on the radio, my love,” Alfie said, his enthusiasm making his voice sound years younger.

“Hmm?” Tommy had already been nearly asleep, and the mischievous tone of Alfie made him suspicious, but he was too tired to pay much attention to it.

“Karl Marx, that old communist himself, got a statue today at Highgate cemetery.” Tommy drowsily wondered why Alfie was telling  him this in such a triumphant voice. Alfie went on: “They said, ‘the face has formidable benignity, the face of a father who would chastise his children but always in sorrow’. Think your little communist lady back then would have liked that, no?”

“God, Alfie.” And no darkness in the world could prevent Alfie from practically feeling Tommy's eyes roll.

Tommy slowly positioned his head on Alfie’s chest.

“Benignity, hm?”

“Yeah.” Alfie pondered  “Always wished I could have been that wise Jew, owning benignity.”

Tommy slowly stroked Alfie’s wild hair that was streaked with tiny drops of sweat like the grass from the dew.

“Wouldn’t have done you much favor back then,” he whispered while closing the last of the distance between them.

“Come here,” he ordered, without any sharpness in his tone.

They shuffled around a bit, Alfie still mumbling incoherently when Tommy finally embraced Alfie in his arms, realizing he had never felt more at ease.

Yeah, it may have taken him decades to relax and just accept certain things, well accept himself and his needs and shortcomings, accept Alfie and him, but just look at them now. He smiled. Here they were, Tommy, now the big spoon, after years of him being roughly embraced, held close by a protective Alfie as he painfully shook during sleepless nights, chased by his nightmares. Tommy’s eyes started to burn, and he was glad they were already closed…

Once Alfie’s expression relaxed and his breathing got slower and deeper, Tommy leaned over, kissed his forehead, and whispered: “Good night, benign Jew." Only to add, barely audibly, “My love.”

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