#cc's fanfiction

[ccrites]

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

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The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain. 

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket. 

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by. 

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning. 

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot? 

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours. 

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet. 

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

[heartofwritiing]

His sweater

paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader (featuring cc!tommy and cc!tubbo)

summary: you and wilbur are in a private relationship and one day while you’re streaming chat recognizes the sweater you’re wearing.

authors note: I wrote this a while back when I was coming back into writing. I'm sorry if its not as good as my usual stuff. the reader is a small streamer but she's close with all the britsh ccs, (bc she lives in the uk) she and wilbur are dating and no one knows not even their friends! but some of them do suspect it! I thought it was cute not sure if it's been done before and I really enjoyed writing it!!

warnings: secret relationship, anxiety attack, fluff, not proofread, and unedited!

It was supposed to be a relaxed stream, chatting and hanging out before Wilbur got home. That’s what it started as. You logged onto Twitch around 7:40 or so, after hanging out with Tommy and the gang for the day. 

Wilbur had gone to his office. He told you to head off without him and said he would be home in an hour or two after he finished editing. That was fine with you. You didn’t mind when he worked late since you didn’t go to bed until around midnight.

No one knew you and Wilbur were together. Like together, together. They thought you were close friends. Not even your friends knew you and sometimes hanging out with them was hard because you wanted to be all

It's not that you were embarrassed by each other. You wanted your privacy and time together to be yours and yours alone. You knew everyone in the group could be eccentric about romantic relationships. You knew deep down they would be happy for you but this was something you and Wilbur agreed to keep secret. For a while at least.

Only a few times have you let it slip when you were out with friends. Everyone knew you two were close so it wasn't that odd to see you being close.

Phill was the only one who knew what was going on. Because once he had caught Wilbur taking your hand in his while you walked side by side. You both completely forgot he was walking right behind you. Separating your hand from Wilbur's when Phill was giving you a knowing glance out of the corner of your eye. Wilbur felt you let go of his hand and he turned to you pouting.

Wilbur got the message completely, seeing Phil smirk back at him. Then, to make matters worse Tommy caught on to Phill being suspicious about something all day. Hence began the young blonde bugging him about what he was all smirking about all day.

Then there were times when you both streamed together. Whether it be at your house or even playing on the SMP, sometimes things would slip out on both your faults.

Like you’ll flirt with each other, or he’ll call you love, or darling. Small things that not everyone can catch onto. Everyone thinks you’re roleplaying anyways but you both know it's not. If you’re on stream you’ll hold your hands under the desk out of view of the webcam. Wilbur would caress your knuckles with his thumb, letting you know he was there. Or you’ll lay your heads on each other’s shoulders during late-night streams when you’re so tired. Little things like that, and of course chat goes nuts for it. 

They think it’s adorable how close you guys are. You love it too. , some people ship you guys but you ignore it, not caring about what they think. It wasn’t anyone's business.

So here you were taking a sip of water from your bottle and as you read the chat a donation came up and it made you perk up.

“Alyssa thank you for the four months!” you read off the donation with a smile. It made you happy that people wanted to stick around with your channel and found it a safe community to fall back on. That was what you wished for.

Your chat was going slow as usual since only about 2,000 or so people were watching. You were comfortable in your little corner.

Your eyes skimmed through the incoming text on your monitor. You froze when you saw a particular statement about your attire.

User: Wait is that Wilbur's sweater?!

You didn’t dare say anything as you tried to shake it off but the comments kept coming in after that faster than before. Everyone seemed to recognize it since he often wore this one in videos. 

You had forgotten Wilbur gave you his sweater sometime early in the night. It wasn’t cold in Brighton during the day, it was warm in the sun. The perfect weather for a band shirt and your favorite pair of comfy pants. But after sunset, you had gotten chilly and Wilbur had offered you his sweater.

You shivered as the chilly wind made goosebumps rise on your arms. You wished you had brought a jacket before going out. You forgot to check the weather and you didn’t think you’d be staying out all day. It was fine, you weren’t going to make a big deal out of it.

Wilbur, who is walking with Tommy glances in your direction. Noticing your shivering state with your arms crossed, you failed to warm yourself up.

Without hesitation, Wilbur pulls his yellow jumper over his head and jogs to catch up with you. Holding out his arm with the sweater all bunched up in his hand, he nudged you.

You turn to look at him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the realization of why he was handing you his sweater. He had noticed you were chilly and your stomach grew butterflies.

"You're shivering. I don’t want you to catch a cold."

You felt warm inside. You never thought you’d find the typical romantic gestures appealing but then you met Wilbur. Who proved you wrong. He was always a gentleman. It made you fall in love with him more and more.

You take it gratefully and put it on. The bright yellow contrasted against y/h/c and somehow made your skin glow. It made you look happy somehow, but it could be the fact you were wearing your boyfriend's sweater.  The smell of his cologne faintly lingers on it.

Wilbur blushed and felt a bit dizzy seeing you wearing his clothes sometimes, and now it was the same case. He thought you looked adorable and was glad he could help you be warmer.

“Thanks, Will,” you smiled.

You almost stood on your toes to kiss his cheek but stopped yourself short. You didn’t want the others to see. Wilbur didn’t care. He leaned right over and kissed your head quickly.

"Of course, darling."

You smiled at the memory of two hours ago as the chat was still spamming you with questions. You tried to ignore it so you booted up your saved game of Stardew Valley. Knowing everyone wanted an update on your farm.

As you played you would glance over to your other monitor and notice chat wasn’t letting up about the sweater. It was getting a bit on your nerves since chat was getting a little hectic and you wanted to have a normal stream. Suddenly you heard an alert for Discord on your computer and you perked up like a golden retriever.

“Oh hold on chat, I’m getting a message!” you say opening up Discord on the opposite screen, just in case. Hopefully, someone wants to join you for a game or chat with you for a while. You were optimistic about finding out.

You saw it was from Tubbo. You immediately got excited seeing a notification from one of your closest friends. Your eyes read his message carefully making your heart sink to your stomach.

Tubbo: Hey, Y/N I don’t mean to alarm you but you’re trending on Twitter. I think you should check it out. 

Below his message was a link and you clicked on it hesitantly, assuming the worst you were bracing yourself for. Twitter opened up to reveal a whole thread of posts involving various screenshots. You sat in your desk chair with your messy hair and Wilbur's sweater clinging to your body.

You tried not to show too much emotion on your face while you scrolled. Knowing that all your now 4,000 viewers were watching you with every beat.

Tears brimmed in your eyes as all this attention was starting to overwhelm you.

You typed back a reply to Tubbo.

This is bad, right?

You were trying so hard to keep it together, everyone was figuring out your secret. You didn’t want everyone to find out this way, especially not your friends. They deserve better.

No no no, they don’t know what they’re talking about and just ignore it.

Easier said than done tubs.

ik ik

I was watching your stream and I noticed chat being nosey and I could tell you were uncomfortable. Are you okay?

You moved your eyes back to the chat again. It was going even faster now. Your viewer count had gone up even more. Everyone was asking why you were being so quiet all of a sudden. You apologized to everyone before returning to your chat screen with Tubbo.

“I'm sorry guys just message my friend real quick.”

Yeah.

Listen y/n if it's true or not I’m happy for you either way.

I'm sorry you had to find out this way.

Don’t be. It’s not your fault.

Does anyone else in the group know?

Just me. And technically Ranboo but he hasn’t figured it out.

You giggled at that.

You were so enthralled talking with Tubbo that you didn’t even hear the front door open. Will was home, toeing off his shoes and hanging up his flat keys.

You typed to Tubbo that you were going to end the stream. Make up some excuse that you were too tired but you didn’t want to seem suspicious. That’s when Wilbur snuck up behind you and leaned down so that he could wrap his arms around your shoulders.

Chat went even crazy. Spelling his name in all caps. Chaos. Absolute chaos.

You instantly froze at the contact and stayed like that for a good solid couple of seconds in shock. The smirk on Wilbur's lips was still prominent, but what he did next stunned you more than you already were.

Wilbur leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek tenderly. His lips lingered on your skin. Burning. You always felt this way when he kissed you. It was sweet and brief. You could feel his breath across your skin when he pulled away. Like it wasn't a big deal that he simply kissed you in front of thousands of people. Looked up at your monitor and smirked when he saw your chat going ballistic.

“Oh are you streaming?” he asked. Of course, he knew you were streaming, and yes he did see the tag trending. Tubbo had messaged him as well and Wilbur thought now was the best time to reveal. He wanted everyone to know you were his, and he was yours. So he hatched a scheme in his head to surprise you by coming home while you were still streaming. So, you were in shock that your boyfriend had come in and kissed your cheek on camera. In front of your viewers.

You were a bit mad at him at the moment. Then you saw how cute he looked with his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the chaos issue from his work.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag now huh darling?” he hummed into your ear softly.

It made you flustered when you felt his lips brush your ear. 

“Now everyone knows you're mine.”

Your heart was beating a million miles per second. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You were so relieved and yet kinda annoyed with Wilbur at the same time for sneaking up on you. You wanted to swipe that cheeky grin off his face. He could be such a smart ass sometimes, but you love him for it. 

Now would be a good time to end this. You thought as you cleared your throat and kept your eyes on the chat log.

"Well, that's enough for me tonight, goodnight.” You finally say quickly, coming out of your flustered state.

"Bye chat,” Wilbur waves.

As soon as the outro screen came on you logged out of Twitch. Immediately, you lay your face in your hands and began crying. Wilbur grew concerned.

"Y/N?" He spun your chair around to face him. He got down to his knees in front of you and placed his hands on your arms. Your heart was beating in your ears, pounding as the situation became too much. Hitting that end stream button brought a sense of relief now that you could finally take it all in. Everyone knew. There was no going back from this. You were so sure that you'd never get a break from the constant questions and judgment that come with being a content creator. 

Besides you on the table, your phone was going off like crazy, vibrating and shaking with alerts. You lifted your head to stare at it in fright. Wilbur detected your uneasiness immediately and grabbed your phone to shut it off completely before turning his attention back to you. 

He brings his hand up to tuck strands of your hair out of your face and behind your ears. You try your best to begin a breathing exercise to calm yourself down. 

Inhale through the nose. 

Exhale out of the mouth 

Wilbur's touch begins to calm your racing mind and heart. His voice anchors you back to the surface of your deepest thoughts. 

Breath. Just breathe. 

“That's it, in and out." 

When you finally get your breathing down to somewhat normal and you surpass a panic attack. Wilbur doesn't say anything. Just holding you until you’re ready.

“I'm sorry,” you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut in shame. Tears flow out again as Wilbur shushes you. 

“Don’t be sorry, don't." He chastised.

“It was just a lot.” You sniffled. 

“I know, but it's going to be okay, you know why?” 

You shake your head from side to side. 

“Because I love you so much, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It’s you and me,” he reassured. 

You smile tearfully. “I love you too.” 

The rest of the night you are spent curled up next to Wilbur, your phones turned off to enjoy some time together away from the internet. The sudden sound of your PC exploding with the sound of the discord call ringtone has you groaning and pausing the movie you both were watching. You had forgotten to shut it down during the chaos. Wilbur goes over to your monitor to turn it off but sees it's Tommy calling. Reluctantly he answers and the room is filled with the teen's loud voice. 

“Why didn't you guys tell me!” he shouted, his voice breaking up through the speakers due to his loudness. 

“Hello to you too Tommy,” Wilbur spoke. 

“Wilbur! I never thought you’d get any women!” 

Wilbur glared over at you as you burst into laughter. It was clear that Tommy was surprised and happy for you both but he was also being his obnoxious self. 

“Alright Im hanging up now,” Wilbur says. 

“No, no!” he laughed. “Im genuinely really happy for you two,” 

“Thanks, toms!” you shouted from your spot on the couch. 

“Thank you Y/N!!” Tommy exclaims. ”See Wilbur, at least someone appreciates my remorseful attitude,” 

Wilbur rolls his eyes and ends the call, shutting down your pc so no one else could bother you. You laughed as he made his way back over to you on the sofa so you could continue your movie. Wilbur was likely going to try and protect you from being bombarded by your friends too much if you decided tomorrow that you'd talk to everyone, You were nervous to face them but you would know that nothing was going to change that your friends supported you. 

[ariseur]

not to be horny on main but i just wanna kiss his forehead

[eobe]

Caf shop, Coruscant, 2:30 am

I could get no rest and went to a all-night caf shop to have a drawing session, a nice caf-uccino and to cry a little bit, but I got distracted by one of those intimidating red armored guards, so I drew him 😱

Guess what!? He noticed and wanted a copy of this and HE GAVE ME HIS COMM 🙈 I‘m normal about that. Yeah, absolutely. I‘m shuddering only from lack of sleep, yes. Not because of this clone getting under my skin, no… ❤️‍🔥✨

READ THE WHOLE STORY:

@eclec-tech I‘m still not over this encounter you made me meet COMMANDER FOX AND HOW TO BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT 🫠 and I found some between time to (art-)process this dopamine ❤️‍🔥✨

Thank you so much, dear Amber, I hope you can see what your writing magic did to me 🥰🫶✨

I WAS THERE and I smelled the caf shop and the atmosphere, heared the passing speederbikes outside and armor is really loud when a trooper approaches How do they sneak?

And I had so much fun to find my hand font in aurebesh 😂 I don‘t know from which planet those glowing decoration plants (or fungi?) come from, but they‘re quite fancy and now I want one 🤩✨

Have a closer look 👀:

My personal ALT text mission (1 additional ALT text for a previous artwork with each new art posting!):

My single other writing fanart piece (until now, because writings can be really dangerous for me too intense too gold too heavy too much too magic )

Echo in the rain

Taglist: @lonewolflupe @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte @groguandthebadbatch @justanotherdikutsimp @ladylucksrogue and @ghostymarni @foxwithadarkside @feral-ferrule @nika6q for the shared Commander Fox fun ❤️‍🔥🦊

Did I say THANK YOU ❤️‍🔥🫠✨

Edit: what happens next! (Chapter 2 by Amber) 👀

Edit: and what happened after that (Chapter 3 by Eobe) 😂

[ineffablejaymee]

sometimes i am almost fit to function in a society

but then i remeber that cody almost had plot armour but SOMEONE decided to cut him from the kenobi series

and then i am yet again boiling with rage

[shadowdaddies]

I am a sucker for angst so can I please request a Ruhn danaan x reader. Where she and ruhn have been together for a while, and she overhears ruhn saying something about her being a bet or a dare. A lot of angst and maybe some fluffy ending

thanks for the request, love💜

Just a Bet

Ruhn x Reader angst to fluff

Smoothing your hair, you stepped out of your car in the driveway as you strode towards Ruhn’s house. You were already regretting the heels you’d donned for your anniversary, feet aching in opposition to the excitement you felt to celebrate one year since Ruhn had asked you out.

Cheeks burning from smiling so hard, you turned the door handle and entered the busy frat house. It wasn’t unusual for many guests to be over, so you paid them no mind as you shouldered your way through the crowd toward the game room where Ruhn usually spent evenings like this.

Juniper caught your eye from across the room, and you waved to her and Fury as you approached the doorway where Ruhn’s voice echoed in a comforting rumble - until you heard Flynn’s voice.

“One year ago, I bet you that you wouldn’t ask her out,” he laughed, the sound of clinking beer bottles and jeers following.

Your heart leapt in your throat when you heard Ruhn’s voice, time standing still as you awaited his response. Your boyfriend scoffed, “I didn’t think I could either.”

Dec chimed in at that point - your kindest friend in the group - his tone teasing as he drawled, “I still can’t believe she took you seriously.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, eyes pricking with tears as the conversation came together in your head. You were nothing more than a bet to Flynn, a joke that Declan couldn’t take serious, and apparently Ruhn felt the same.

Ripping the painful heels off your feet, you sprinted down the stairs and out of the house. Tossing the shoes in your passenger seat, you wiped the tears from your eyes and started the engine before heading back to your apartment.

The dress felt ridiculous, hair a mess and makeup ruined from crying as you stumbled into your home. Why would Ruhn have stayed with you for this long from a stupid bet? Were you nothing more than a joke, for him and his friends’ amusement?

The thought made tears well up once more, this time pouring over your cheeks as you sobbed. Practically ripping the dress from your body, you ignored the buzzing of your phone in favor of your welcoming shower.

Stepping under the steaming hot water, you scrubbed the memory of tonight as best you could from your skin before stepping out. Wrapping a fluffy towel around your body, you sighed with a hint of relief. 

Realizing how dried out you were from your tears, you padded towards the kitchen for some water when you were stopped in your tracks. Bryce lay on your couch, lazily flipping through the tv channels as amber eyes flicked to yours. 

With a dramatic sigh, she set down the remote, turning fully to face you. She took in your disheveled state, expression softening at the redness in your eyes, your puffy cheeks.

Shutting off the TV, Bryce sat up and patted the open space on the sofa next to her.

“I need water,” you whispered through a sniffle, voice raspy from dehydration. 

“I’ll get it for you. Sit,” Bryce directed, her voice gentle as she sprung gracefully from the couch and headed toward the kitchen.

You settled into the cushions, picking a pillow from behind you to hold against your chest. Nodding a silent thanks, you took the water from Bryce and drank it down, the cold liquid cooling your heated cheeks.

“Fury texted me. She and Juniper saw you running out of Ruhn’s house before he came downstairs asking if they’d seen you. He’s been blowing up everyone’s phones, worried about you.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, but you found yourself unable to make eye contact with your friend as you muttered, “Yeah, I’m sure he’s heartbroken.”

Before you could react, the pillow was ripped from your arms, Bryce’s manicured nails practically digging holes into its fabric as her eyes simmered with barely contained rage.

“You may be my friend, but Ruhn is my brother. Explain to me why you think his heartbreak is amusing to you.” Your lower lip wobbled at her harsh words, the dam of your emotions about to break again.

Bryce loosed a breath, gently setting the pillow between you on the sofa as she spoke again, her voice softer this time. “I don’t know what happened, but he’s hurting too. Talk to me.”

The patterns on the pillow suddenly became much more interesting, your fingers tracing the stitching in the fabric while you found the courage to voice what you had heard at the house. “I was going to meet Ruhn for our anniversary dinner... but I heard them talking. I heard Flynn say that I was a bet. Even Dec-“

Shifting to rest on your elbows, you hid your face in your hands as the memory flashed too vividly through your mind. “Dec said he couldn’t believe I thought Ruhn was serious when he asked me out.”

You looked up to see Bryce’s own eyes lined with tears, her jaw set in anger as she processed everything you said.

“I’m a joke to them, Bryce. I was just a bet that he’s decided to string along for whatever reason. Maybe he does like me now, but...”

You couldn’t find the words, tongue twisted in knots like your stomach as thoughts eddied deeper and darker as you reflected on the past year of your life. 

Bryce’s hand gently reached for your own, holding them softly as she spoke. “I am going to speak with Ruhn and figure out what is going on. If he was such a dumbass to do something like that to you, I’ll kick his ass. But I feel like there has to be something more to it. They’re good males - stupid alphaholes - but they’re good males.”

You nodded, a flicker of hope sparking in your chest at the thought. They had always been kind to you... Surely that couldn’t all be fake?

“Why don’t you get dressed? I’m going to see Ruhn and I’ll pick you up some food,” Bryce promised, pulling you in for a warm hug before turning and heading out the door, phone already in hand as she fired off messages.

You returned to your room, feeling numb from the pendulum of emotions you’d swung on all evening. You vaguely remembered slipping on a t shirt and shorts, returning to the couch to find the channel on Fangs and Bangs before you fell asleep.

You bolted upright at the sound of a soft knock at your door, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes to look at your phone. Not much time had passed, but the bombardment of earlier messages from Ruhn and your friends filled the screen. 

“Are you there? Bryce told me what happened, and it’s not what you think.” A tense beat of silence passed between you. “Please just hear me out. If you’d rather talk to Bryce, she’s downstairs... But I brought food.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled, drawing attention to the hunger gnawing in your gut. Stomping towards the door, you flung it open to grab the food from Ruhn’s hands when his appearance shocked you still.

His violet eyes were rimmed red and swollen like yours, his hair a mess. He was dressed in an all-black suit, the shirt unbuttoned and tie loose. You hated how it tugged on your heartstrings to see him this way, how there was a part of you that could never hate him, even if what Flynn had said was true.

“Fine,” you snapped, snatching the bag of food before returning to the couch without a second glance. “You have one shot to explain.”

Ruhn sighed, the sound slightly drowned out by the soft click of the door closing behind him. You spared him a glance as he took a seat on the couch, careful to keep his distance.

The chipped black paint of his nails blended into his onyx hair as he ran a hand through it, his muscular leg shaking anxiously before he turned to you. Wholly still, Ruhn’s voice emanated with earnest when he finally spoke.

“Bryce told me what you heard, back at my house. I understand how it would sound, but that’s not at all what happened, and I first and foremost need you to know that you are not a joke. You have never been a joke - to Flynn, to Dec, and especially not to me. I was the joke in that room. They were teasing me, because, yes, asking you out was a dare of sorts.”

You felt the rage build in your chest at that, setting down your food on the table as you prepared for what he would say next - or so you thought you were prepared. 

“I remember the first time I saw you, when you came into the White Raven with Bryce. It felt like my world tilted on its axis,” he paused, shaky breath leaving his lips as his eyes went hazy, lost in the memory. 

“You were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and when you smiled at me I forgot how to breathe. The entire room was staring at you, and you somehow didn’t notice.”

He loosed a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he fought back a smile. “Dec and Marc were teasing me. They saw how I reacted to you, how drawn to you I was. But you were so beautiful and charming, and could have had any male or female you wanted.”

Drawing your legs to your chest, you settled into the couch and fought back the tears in your eyes at his story.

“Flynn’s ‘bet’ was just that I wouldn’t have the guts to ask someone like you out. And I didn’t at first,” Ruhn laughed, toying with his lip ring before those violet eyes flicked up to meet yours. 

“But then Flynn said that if I didn’t ask you out, he would. And that’s when I jumped up from our table so fast I knocked Dec’s beer on me, and made a fool of myself asking you out like that.”

Ruhn looked down at your hands, his own twitching as though barely holding back from reaching for you. So you reached for him. The cold silver of his rings was a familiar comfort, and you felt yourself relax as his fingers twined tightly with your own.

“Dec didn’t think you’d take me seriously because I was a dumbass, asking out the most incredible female I’ve ever met while covered in beer and stumbling through my words.” You laughed then, and Ruhn’s entire presence seemed to brighten in response. 

“I remember. I thought it was cute. You weren’t the snobby fae royalty I would have expected, and I found it very charming,” you teased, a smile spreading across your face as you then relived the memory of the striking yet goofy male first approaching you.

“I am so sorry that I didn’t tell you that. It’s not exactly something that I’m proud of, that I was so nervous to ask you out. Flynn never lets me live it down.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling embarrassed at how you had jumped to conclusions so quickly. “I feel like I ruined our anniversary. I should have stayed and listened to you.”

Ruhn’s eyes glittered like stars, his hands finding your waist to lift you into his lap. Hooking your arms around his neck, you straddled your boyfriend’s hips. Ruhn exhaled sharply through his teeth, causing you to lean back in alarm.

“It’s just a bruise, curtesy of Bryce.” You blushed, biting back laughter over your friend’s protectiveness. “You did not ruin anything. Flynn, on the other hand, got it worse than me,” he chuckled, nodding to his wounded side.

“You have a lot of people in your life who would do anything for you, including Bryce and myself. All I want is to spend the rest of our night together so I can show you just how much I love you,” he murmured, eyed lidded with desire as you settled further into his lap.

“I think I could arrange that,” you purred, leaning down to kiss Ruhn’s full lips before trailing his jaw, down his neck, his exposed chest. 

He picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the bedroom where you spent the night exchanging soft touches and sweet nothings until the sun rose the next morning.

[leva-prava]

Exile arc :DDD

For my bedrock bros fic

[valkyyriia]

Try This On For Size

Words: 2729 CW: Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism?, Mirror Sex, Creampie, Vaginal Fingering Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain / Female-Bodied Reader Prompt(s): Fitting Room, Let Them Play Dress-Up With You

Notes: I cranked out another one at work tonight. I'm feeling even less confident with this one than I was with the other, but.. I hope it still makes sense.

Crossposted on AO3 here.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

The sticky summer heat of the French countryside was beginning to get to you. No amount of fanning yourself or loosening your collar was cutting it. 

Of all the things you could be missing from the modern era, air conditioning was not expected to be the crux of all of your issues. 

Just as you feared you would begin to melt into the parquet flooring, a cool hand brushed against the back of your neck. “Are you okay, ma chérie? You seem a little warm.” His voice was soothing, but tinged with concern.

“I’m alright,” you assured him with a content sigh, leaning back into his touch. “It’s just hotter than I’m used to.” 

Comte’s hands dropped to your shoulders and he began to massage them. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as the tension left your body. “You’ve been working hard lately. I think it’s time you take a break.”

“There’s too much to do for that,” You protested. “Sebas needs help with dinner, and we haven’t even begun cleaning up the book fort Leonardo created in the library.” 

Comte hummed, one of his hands gently caressing the side of your neck. “Should I give it as an order from your employer, then? If a heartfelt plea from your partner isn’t enough.” He moved to kiss your neck under your ear. “Please, mon amour. It wouldn’t do to have you suffer a heatstroke simply because you’re too stubborn to know when to take a break.” His lips moved towards your shoulder, teasing but affectionate. His arms moved to your waist, pulling you back into his embrace. He rested his head on your shoulder and held you close.

You leaned into him, your head draped over his other shoulder. Unlike the stifling heat of the outdoors, Comte’s warmth was comforting and welcome. He nuzzled into the joint between your neck and shoulder. “Let me spoil you today,” he said, kissing your neck again. 

“You spoil me every day, Abel,” you sighed, relaxing further into your partner. He was going to win this and you both knew it; it was just a matter of how long it took you to give in.

“And yet, somehow, I’m still not satisfied that it’s enough. You deserve more, chérie. You deserve the world, and you will get it if I have anything to say about it.” His arms tightened around your midsection, pulling you even closer. 

A cool, inviting breeze suddenly blew through the open window. The air rushed along your face and tousled your bangs. Even nature herself was trying to tempt you. With another sigh, you gave in. “Fine. But you have to let me get up on time tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to leave Sebas waiting again like the last time you took me out for the day.” 

The vampire chuckled into your neck, the reverberations rumbling through your own body due to the proximity. “I seem to recall you left my bed quite satisfied that morning.” 

You flushed at the memory. “I certainly was,” you agreed. “Until Sebas abused my forehead after breakfast. I had a bruise for a week.” 

“But it was worth it, non?” He looked up at you from his position on your shoulder. Comte’s golden eyes twinkled with amusement, but they were tinged with a subtle heat. His hands drifted slowly down your abdomen, his gaze never leaving yours. He offered you a coy smile.

You groaned. “It’s too hot, Abel,” you protested. “I will genuinely either melt into a puddle or catch on fire if you continue that line of thought right now.” 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, stepping back from you with a light chuckle and holding up his hands in defeat. “Let’s get you cooled off.” 

As it turns out, Comte’s idea of “cooling off” was taking a carriage into town and going clothes shopping. For you, of course. His reasoning was that your clothes were heavier than you were accustomed to in your time, so lighter fabric would help fend off the oppressive French sun. Comte’s logic was sound, but you were quite sure he was just fishing for an excuse to buy you even more dresses that you would only wear once. 

As the carriage stopped, he stepped out first, offering you his hand. Taking it, he kissed the back of it before tucking your arm into his. The two of you walked leisurely in the direction of his favorite boutique, the one the both of you frequented. The staff immediately recognized the both of you (you were pretty certain that Comte’s patronage alone could keep this store in business for centuries to come, and potentially push France into the forefront of the modern economy) and ushered you into a large fitting room in the back of the building. 

“How can we be of service on this day, Monsieur le Comte?” 

He looked around the room briefly. “My partner is in need of some lighter summer clothes. The heat is getting to her,” he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek with affection. You hadn’t really considered it before today, but the dress you were wearing was made of a heavier material that was more suited for the later part of the year. Maybe a couple of thinner summer dresses would be a good idea - you just hoped you could keep your darling Comte from purchasing the entire store this time.

The shop worker nodded in agreement. “The Madame’s dress is much better for the cooler months. Yes, I will bring you some of our best. Un moment, s'il vous plaît,” they said, stepping out to rifle through a few clothing racks.

You looked around the room. Not much had changed from the last time you were here, except now they had frilly sun hats and sunglasses on display alongside the jewelry and shoes. 

“Has anything caught your eye, ma chérie?” Comte asked, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

“Aside from you, you mean?” You ask with a smile. He responds with a chuckle and a kiss to the forehead. 

“You are so.. Séduisant, mon amour,” Comte murmured, amused. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“Many things, I’d imagine,” you said sweetly. “After all, eternity is a long time.”

Before Comte could reply, the shop attendant returned with a large bundle of fabric bunched in her arms. “I selected a few similar to what you’ve purchased for le Comtesse before, along with a couple of other styles I’m sure would look lovely on her.” She smiled at you. 

“I truly think she could make anything look amazing. Merci beaucoup, mademoiselle,” Comte replied with a cordial smile. “We will take it from here.” 

The attendant curtsied on her way out of the fitting room. “If you have need of anything else, please just let us know.” 

Once you were alone, Comte sat on the ottoman in the room and grinned cheekily. “Strip.” 

Your cheeks bloomed a dark pink. “Don’t say it like that!” You hissed, untying the ribbon at your neck at his request anyway. His laughter filled the room. 

You tried on several outfits that day; all of which were far lighter material than what you had on. They were high-quality, lightweight cotton - and definitely outside of your normal budget. Not that Comte cared about price. If you expressed even the slightest desire for something, the vampire would have dozens of the item in question waiting for you within a day, regardless of practicality or expense. One time, you had been playing with Lumière and commented on how cute he was, and the next day you woke up to an entire litter of kittens in your room, courtesy of Comte. You ended up rehoming all but one of them - a little black thing you had named Minerva. She was probably sunning herself in the window right about now, absorbing all the sun she could. Disgusting.

Comte gave feedback on all of them, but he seemed pleased with every dress you tried on. He chose accessories and shoes for everything you tried on. While le Comte de Saint-Germain may not be the most fashionable of individuals, he could at least pick out matching shoes and jewelry. 

Throughout the fittings, Comte’s eyes only left your figure a handful of times, just long enough to grab a pair of shoes or another accessory. The rapt attention from your lover would have made you feel self-conscious if it weren’t so endearing. Your trained eye could tell that Comte grew somewhat more impatient with every article you tried on, but he never once rushed you. You wondered what had him so antsy, but you decided not to ask. After all, you would be done soon enough.

The last dress in the pile was a beautiful, floral-print cotton gown. The base fabric was white, but it was dyed with small daisies all over. You looked at yourself in the mirror and twisted to get a better look. You tried to reach behind you to lace up the back, but you stopped when you saw him come up behind you. Comte’s fingers gently batted yours aside and he began to lace the dress, looking at you in the mirror as he did so. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw the look he gave you - adoration, desire, and hunger. “It looks beautiful on you,” Comte said honestly as he secured the fastenings. He tightened the laces just enough so it would stay on, but not so much your movement would be inhibited. 

“Everything today has looked good on you, chérie,” he added, his now free hands settling on your hips and pulling you flush to him. You could feel his hardness straining against the smooth material of his trousers. He lightly rubbed his hips against yours.

The feeling of his arousal against your backside caused you to bite your lip and make eye contact with his reflection. His gaze had darkened further and you were suddenly reminded that he was a vampire - a predator - and you were his prey. Rather than fear, however, the sight was more arousing than anything. You almost felt empowered, knowing this man craved you so strongly that his control was only hanging on by a thread. 

Comte began to tug on the lace he had just tied up, loosening the bodice of the dress. You looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you liked the dress?”

“I do,” he said, pushing the sleeves down your shoulders and leaving hot kisses on the now bare skin. “I’ve rather enjoyed getting to play dress up with you today, but I have been looking forward to the moment I got to take them off of you. I can’t keep pretending to be a gentleman right now.” He pushed the dress down your hips, the decorated cotton pooling on the floor, leaving you in your chemise. Comte pulled you backwards, still keeping his eyes on you in the mirror, and bent you over the other side of the ottoman. You complied with his direction, your breath hitching when you felt him run his fingers through your already damp slit. You hung your head and inhaled sharply as he slid in one finger, then two, stretching you slightly.

“You’re already so wet,” he teased. “Such a naughty girl, getting worked up like this in public.” You pushed your hips back against his fingers, but he pulled them out and held you still instead. 

When you heard the sound of fabric rustling, your gaze shot up at the exact time Comte began to press the tip of his cock to your entrance. You looked back at him in surprise, but he turned your face towards the mirror once more. 

“I want you to see how pretty you look while I’m inside you,” Comte said, his voice deep with desire.

“What if someone walks back here?” You asked breathily, biting back a moan as Comte pushed in the rest of the way, filling you completely. “Then we let them enjoy the show,” he replied, snapping his hips against your ass once. You could feel him grinding against the sweet spot deep inside you and you bit your lip hard, straining not to cry out. “I have no intention of stopping. But if you stay quiet like a good girl, they won’t have any reason to come check on us, non?” 

Rather than fucking you into the ottoman, Comte instead opted for shallow thrusts deep in your warmth and continued to grind against you. The constant pressure and friction felt so good it was almost painful. You bit your lip harder, tears springing from the corners of your eyes. Comte reached around to your mouth and gently pulled your abused lip from between your teeth with his thumb. He then slipped the digit between your lips instead, giving you something to keep your mouth occupied without hurting yourself. 

Comte was insistent on keeping your attention on yourself in the mirror. Every time you looked away, he would pull out just enough to where you received no stimulation. When you looked back up at the mirror, you were rewarded with the head of his thick length grinding into your sweet spot again. 

Comte’s other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers deftly stroking the sensitive bud there. He timed his fingers with his hips, setting a gentle yet insistent rhythm. The lack of movement kept the sounds to a minimum; all that could really be heard around the room was a rustling of fabric and the muffled sighs from the both of you. The extra fabric around the room served as a sort of soundproofing as well, masking the sounds as well. You could feel the tension building in your abdomen, and you pushed your hips back against him. Comte’s lips trailed against your neck, his hot breath puffing against the shell of your ear. 

“Come for me,” he whispered, punctuating his command with a kiss under your ear and the insistent motion of his fingers between your thighs. The pressure in your belly suddenly snapped and you leaned forward, forgetting about the mirror; your inner walls contracting around the cock buried deep in you. Comte’s thumb slipped out of your mouth at the motion, but his hand wrapped around your mouth to prevent you from crying out in pleasure and alerting the store personnel to what exactly you were doing in their fitting room.

With a soft grunt, Comte’s free hand suddenly held your hips still as he too found his release. He instinctually pressed himself even deeper into your warmth and emptied himself inside of you with a shudder. Comte’s mouth settled over your pulse point. The urge to bite you was so intense it was hard to resist. His fangs ached with the desire to sink them into the succulent flesh of your neck, but he couldn't - not yet. Comte instead settled for gritting his teeth and pressing his face against you, a quiet groan escaping his throat. With an exhale and a kiss pressed to your shoulder, he pulled out and neatly tucked himself back in his pants. He moved your underwear back into place, preventing any fluid leakage for now, and smoothed out the skirt of your chemise. 

Comte spent the next five minutes making you both presentable again. Your heart was still pounding in your chest. You weren’t sure you would be able to shop at this store anymore for the sake of embarrassment. Once you were both decent, he shot you a cheeky grin and kissed your forehead. Your face flushed. “You have the worst poker face, ma chérie,” he chuckled. 

“Shut up,” you grumbled weakly in response, exhaling and trying to calm the heat rising in your cheeks.

Comte offered you his arm once more and guided you out of the fitting room. “We’ll take everything she tried on today,” Comte told the store clerk. You groaned in exasperation. You’re going to need a whole wing of the mansion just for your clothes if Comte keeps getting his way. However, that’s a problem for tomorrow you, you decide. For today, you’re content to let him keep spoiling you. 

“Je t’aime, Comte,” you murmur, leaning against his arm. 

“Je t’aime aussi,” he replies, kissing the top of your head. “And I always will.”

Dividers by @natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles

[chaoticallyfluffy]

Has anyone ever written a parent trap au with Billy and Mary?

What if instead of dying, their parents get divorced and each parent gets custody of one of the twins while they’re too young to remember eachother. The twins meet again in the future and realize they share the same face, fight a little bit (there can be only one) and eventually connect the dots. they switch places and now Mary has to somehow act like a little boy she barely knows and hide that she has long hair by wearing a hat at all times, and Billy has to pretend to be a little girl he barley knows while still maintaining his identities as the champion of magic and a member of the justice league.

Mary is panicking because a burst of wind swept her hat away and she barely had enough time to put it back on before her mom looked back at her. Billy is panicking because he has to go save the world but apparently mary and their dad watch movies every night on Saturday’s and he needs to come up with an excuse to miss it without blowing his cover or letting the world be destroyed. These two things are equally important, obviously.

I didn’t realize how much I needed this until i finished writing but now I’m sad it probably doesn’t exist

[seneon]

HEARTS FOR SALE ──── grimmjow × female¡reader.

about. a man purchases a heart with the desire to feel love. angst romance. contains blood, gore, a lot of bickering, and the aftermath of a gouged heart. wc of 3100+

notes. in a halloween collaboration with @luvlyycy !! this was such a fun collab even though we comically struggled at some parts 😭 had lots of fun with this. love our dynamics!!

"hearts for sale! hearts for sale!" the voice of a young teenage girl said just as the people that passed by gave her scornful looks with her little business. hearts for sale. just as her illegal little business sounds, she sells hearts.

the young teenage girl is bold to be yelling that to passers-by. multiple people who passed her whispering to each other, it was awful really. although, some people would pass and glance at the teenage girl's business, admiring what she had for sale before simply walking away.

grimmjow jaegerjaquez came across her heart and pointed to her chest near the right side where the heart is supposedly placed.

"i want your heart," he says, his voice so flat and straight to the point where it sounded like metaphorical knives stabbing through the girl’s heart for sale. “you don't need it anymore, do you? give it to me.”

“m-mine?” she stutters out, eyes lowering down to his hand which was pointed at her chest. the words softly rung through her head, don't need it anymore. her hands clasp together, attempting to grin without her face saddening at the thought of losing her heart.

but he's right, she doesn't need it anymore.

“of course, sir! you can have my heart!” she shows him the price… which is definitely not cheap. grimmjow makes the purchase, yawning as he does so.

this is awful. he doesn't even care. before she thinks too hard, once again, she reminds herself.

she doesn't need it anymore.

“can i ask… why do you want my heart?” y/n asks as her curiosity grew larger than the fear of her heart being carved out of her body. to know the one reason for her heart being bought is an essential to her before she gouges it out for any other soul.

grimmjow’s gaze never ceased as they had been glued to her the entire time. his gaze that simply bore into her soul to seek a pricey organ lying around the area of her chest.

“i want to feel loved.”

oh. her lips fall into a saddened frown, already feeling quite similar to that one statement that slips from the man's mouth. she's not quite sure if her heart can offer him that comfort, but maybe she's just terrified of tearing her heart out and offering it to a stranger— just so he can feel loved. but this is her job.

“i..i see! well,” y/n's shaky eyes lowered down to her chest, still petrified at the mere thought of losing her heart and offering it to another.

“i hope my heart will suffice...”

she shuts her eyes for a moment, feeling her heart bump within her chest, pounding. he's already made the purchase, she reminds herself. plus, he's staring at her an awful lot, probably just waiting for the organ he needs from her chest, simply so he can feel love.

she shuts her eyes, lips shaking— ready to give him her heart.

grimmjow locked his azure gazed onto the organ that still beats at the life within. his hand is painted with the blood of the girl, the red fluid seeping into his fingernails and making their existence known into his body.

he moved his gaze to where the girl laid lifeless on the ground, a sickeningly kind smile portrayed on her face. it adds horror to the entire aspect of grimmjow wanting a real heart just to feel a speck of love and the girl who offered him her heart. his insides twisted at the sight before his fingers curled around the heart that eventually ceased to beat.

“this smile ..” grimmjow kneeled to trace y/n’s smile, her eyes that crinkled at the corner of her eyes. it was as if she had come out from a painting, a smile never fading even after her soul leaves the face of the earth.

he stares, wondering why he had thought that she was so.. ethereal. even though her eyes had clearly faded, her smile hadn't and for some odd reason it pulls desperately at his soul. he runs his thumb over her face for a moment, wondering what her personality was like off duty.

wondering why she gave him her heart when she'd just lose everything she worked for.

“stupid girl,” he huffs out, sparing a moment to gaze at her heart in hand, still beating— awfully slow. will this truly work? he figured it would, after all love is meant to share hearts, right? although, probably not literally.

he frowns, feeling the same as before. unloved. he stands to his feet, the blood from his hand dripping to the ground below— azure eyes still gazing at the girl he never met, yet is holding her heart.

grimmjow places his hand on his head, scratching it roughly in an attempt to forget his thoughts— she's just a weird girl who was selling hearts, not some sort of goddess. he frowns, as his eyes look back down at her smiling face— then away again.

just walk away. he takes one step before he looks back, his usual deadpanned eyes brightening for a moment as he gazes at the smile of the dead woman—

bump…bump……bump…

could a girl with a smile and such a kind heart, actually allow him to feel a speck of what he had never experienced?

when he glanced at the heart in the palm of his hands once again, something stirred within him. it pooled at the pit of his stomach, gradually making its way to stain his heart with confusing feelings and his mind with a desire to see y/n’s smile once again.

not the smile she has on right now, but a true smile that he could feel and touch as her lips moved. not the cold and frozen smile which was stuck in time.

his feet carried him back to where her lifeless body laid. a spot in her chest has been ripped out, flesh apart and blood kissing the air. grimmjow knelt down to hold her body in his arms, bringing her close just so he could set everything right.

the man's fingers dug their way through her flesh only to have her heart greet her body. her heart for sale is back to where it belonged. but at what cost?

she gasps, her smile fading into a panicked look on her face tears already brimming her waterline.

he stares. missing her tender smile, wanting to see it again he attempts to make her smile.

“i put it back.”

“what?” she gasps, placing her hand on her chest, still gasping— her heart beating faster than it ever has been. “why?” she asks, tears slipping from her eyes as she does so.

he panics for a moment, knowing he can't possibly tell her why. “dunno, jus’ didn't feel loved,” he huffs, releasing her from his arms and letting her awkwardly fall to the ground beneath her, the pool of blood soaking her clothes even more as she lay there.

she lays there, confused before leaning upwards, still attempting to catch her breath— “don't ask again.” he seethes, subtle blush upon his cheeks.

“so i’m alive.. somehow,” she trails off and places her hand on her chest where she feels her skin weave itself back together. she's still having difficulty breathing, but nonetheless she looks up at the man.

“does my heart not make you feel loved? have i failed?”

her words have grimmjow’s glares melting away. just a little bit though, as he knelt to her height to hold his hands out.

“get the hell up. you must've lacked love in your life, that's why i didn't feel shit.”

she frowns, grabbing ahold of his hands to help herself up. “me? lacking love? i'm not the one who bought a heart just to feel it!” she huffs out, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

grimmjow groans, contemplating between pushing her back to the floor or just walking away, “you should give me my money back anyway, this shit is a scam.” he sneers, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

he watches as she smiles again, although this time in disbelief— “no refunds.”

he doesn't know if he should be mad, but he doesn't feel all that mad. he feels embarrassed, stupid— he should've kept her heart.

“shoulda kept ya dead. so fuckin’ annoying.” he adds salt to the injury by jamming his pinky into his ear, supposedly cause he doesn't wanna hear her speak anymore.

she frowns, placing her palms firmly on his chest and pushing— he barely budges but still looks at her, “you're a jerk. can't believe you out of all people had my heart.” she grumbles out. she looks like an angry hamster to him.

“eh? whatever, i can rip it out again if you'd like.”

he watches her face crimple in anger once more, “you're never gonna own my heart, ever again!” she yells at him, pushing him once more.

he makes a ‘tsk’ sound, ignoring all the stares from the civilians behind him. he wraps his hand firmly around her wrist and yanks her along, walking the way he was going before.

“let go! the fuck is your problem?!”

“if i can't have your heart to make me feel loved, then maybe your soul can do the trick.”

“my soul!? you can't even—”

“i’ll eat it. and if i can't do that, i’ll just keep you to myself. you're the refund for a failed heart,” grimmjow sternly said before loosening his grip on the girl's hands. his hands then cupped yours, holding you in such a sweet way that it murders the moth in him to bear new butterflies.

what an odd combination… he's holding the hand of the girl who offered him her heart where he paid for it. now the entire ordeal failed, and he's leading her to wherever he desires to go.

he could tell that she has nothing left to achieve in this miserable life of hers— given that she was selling the organ that keeps her alive. what's the harm in taking her with him? to keep her as his own?

y/n said nothing but allowed grimmjow to hold her hands, feeling his hands occasionally tightening around hers. his hands are warm, she noticed that. it feels like life on her skin. as if his warmth is spreading throughout her entire arm up to her body and to her poor abused heart just from his hands on hers alone.

why did she ever want to sell her heart away?

“what is your name?” she softly asks, and he replies, later finding it odd how his name rolls off her tongue like sweet and cold poetry.

“and yours?” he mumbles out, she responds and he carefully says her name— as if any moment it could break like glass.

after a long while of walking, they arrive to what seems like grimmjow’s house, or at least that's what y/n thinks. he yanks her along with him, stuffing her through doors and eventually pushing her into a room with a bed.

“don't even think about leaving, or you're dead. got it?”

she crossed her arms and sits on the bed, her body bouncing a little. she then proceeds to roll her eyes, just nodding in response.

“need to hear you say it. say yes or no.”

“yes.”

he slams the door on his way out, leaving her on her own within this unknown place and unknown room. she lays backward, splayed across the bed— eyes carefully scanning the room around her, clearly noticing this wasn't a guest room.

it was definitely grimmjow’s room. she notices it being fully decorated, albeit messy but decorated nonetheless. it's all white— with black accents, such as pillows or light blue decorations. her fingers trace his plain pillows as she thinks about how she got here and why he wanted to feel love so bad.

grimmjow re-enters the room, shutting the door behind him, he uses his hand— which now is covered in her dried blood— to push her aside, sitting beside her body.

he pushes a plate of food toward her. no words are exchanged, she just sits up, awkwardly glances at him and the food before she begins to eat.

it's not the best food, doesn't really taste that good, but at least she's eating and feeding her body.

“guess i'll be feeding your annoying ass for now. to keep your soul alive, or something.” he yawns, leaning back against his bed frame as it creaks obnoxiously. it makes y/n cringe a bit.

“your bed is more annoying than me.” she huffs, stuffing more of the poorly prepared food into her mouth.

his head makes a soft ‘thump’ against the wall as he gets comfortable, now watching her eat.

he can't cook, never could. but he would try and nobody would like or eat it, he never understood why. he prepared it the best he could every time, yet they would complain about taste or something weird.

she didn't complain.

he frowns. after y/n finishes the meal, he takes the plate and leaves once again.

as she gets comfortable, she hears the obnoxious sound of dishes being cleaned— it's loud, every second plates or something, clanking together.

she stares at the door, laying down after a few minutes.

he could've kidnapped anyone, why her? she sighs, eyes fluttering closed as she begins to think about what even got her in this situation. selling hearts, her heart. that was a terrible idea, but she desperately needed— still needs, the money.

she's poor. no family to remind her of home. in fact, she doesn't even have a home. she struggled for everything, having to fight, steal, and claw her way to survival within this terrible world.

to top it all off, now a weirdo kidnaps her— if he really can eat her soul, will it make either of them content?

the door swings open with a soft creak, grimmjow stomping over to his closet, grabbing a few stray pieces of clothing and throwing it directly at her face.

“you stink. you have blood all over you. shower," he points to his bathroom to her left.

she grabs the clothes from her face, looking at what he even gave her— plain black shirt and pants.

“wow, you have no sense of style.”

“wow, and you're a bitch. now go shower ‘fore i eat your fuckin’ soul.” he grumbles like the big brooding man he is, and y/n bites her tongue to withstand a witty comeback.

the thought of her heart being taken she can bare, but her soul being eaten? she's never even met someone who could do that, let alone be threatened with it.

she makes her way to the bathroom, grimmjow soon hearing the shower flutter to life as he now gets comfortable on his bed, removing his shoes and jacket— throwing it on a far chair in the corner, his jacket falling to the floor.

he crosses his arms behind his head, shutting his eyes as he waits.

in the shower lies the soft trails of cold blood and the warm water that mixes everything to make rosewater. it's the blood that seeps out through the little corners of her chest where her heart had been ripped out. now they flowed down along with the running water of the shower and down into the drains.

y/n’s eyes were as empty as they had been after her last breath. like a broken doll, she only functions whenever someone spins the hook that has her going.

in this case, grimmjow is the man who keeps her going. the moment she stepped into the shower her head hung low as her eyes gazed at the flowing blood at her feet. the shower water seemed to have roused the blood to flow like endless streams of tears that y/n cries out so silently.

her fingers twisted the shower shut, and she steps out to change into the clothes that grimmjow gave. the blood in her chest ceased, and life flickered in her eyes. she let out a sigh and looked at herself in the mirror of grimmjow's bathroom vanity.

“he mustn't know that my soul is dying too.”

grimmjow pops open an eye as he hears y/n make her way back into the room, a weak smile glazed upon her face.

“there, you look much better. less stinkier, ah?” he grins his stupid lopsided grin as he watches her slowly make her way to the bed, getting in. he just assumes she's tired.

she takes a tiny gasp, turning over on her side— facing away from him. . . he stares.

he awkwardly gets comfortable behind her, pulling the blanket over both of their bodies, “don't want ya runnin’ away.” he mumbles into the back of her hair, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist— hands splayed across her stomach.

she's breathing slow, shallow— he doesn't mind, at least her body is in his grasp— her or well, his, shirt damp as it sticks to her chest, near the right side.

he pats.

she hisses, sucking in a sharp breath— “don't touch my chest, weirdo.” she manages out, hands weakly grabbing ahold of his wrist to push him away.

grimmjow raises his hand, staring at the blotches of blood that seeped through her clothes.

“what the— what the hell is this…” he breathed out, eyes immediately darting to the girl whose gaze still avoided his. grimmjow sat up and slowly held her shoulders to pull her back where he could see her face.

and there it is, the empty gaze with the pool of blood that seeped through his bedsheets. disbelief washed over his face, and he snapped out to frantically shake y/n’s shoulders. incoherent profanities flew out of his mouth to keep her eyes opened.

but to no avail …

blood spills from her open mouth, a soft choking sound exiting from her gaping lips. his face scrunches in despair— soft pleads of begging her to open her eyes, say anything back to him.

but she doesn't.

he watches as her body goes limp in his arms, lips shivering with a feeling he's never felt before— pure regret. he regrets taking her heart out, he regrets putting it back. he regrets how mean he was, blaming himself for not realizing his mistakes earlier.

he whispers into her delicate cheek, trying his hardest not to let the tears spill from his eyes— he never wanted this to happen. he hugs her limp body, hand splayed across her cranium as he holds her close— eyes dark and careful as he watches her in her eternal sleep.

she's sent there because of him. she's gone forever and it's his fault.

©SENEON × ©LUVLYYCY 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate both of our works. blessings from us both.

[salbertwolf]

Just so you guys know, like, I still have Chapter 2 of "5 times manwhoring" on my mind, I just haven't passed a point specifically and I'm mentally kicking myself, I promise to get it out soon, because I really, really, really really want to finish a fanfic for once (not counting that FNAF Wattpad fic that I threw to wattpad)

Anyway, just, uhhhh, information about chapter 2? Did you guys know no Nautolan senator exists? like, at all???? And that's horrible because FISH???? So this is my Senator OC fyi, second target of the fic, you'll be seeing him, his name is Yorren Kai

See ya later? I'll have the chapter soon

[heartofwritiing]

We could make such a pretty picture

Paring: musicianbur x photographer!reader

Summary: you are lovejoy’s tour photographer and wilbur likes to tease you.

authors note: this is so rushed and unedited mostly just my stream of consciousness that popped into my head while i finish up the zombur fic! its almost done!!

warnings: fluff, short, flirting, a little suggestive maybe, i use a cringey (?) line idk take it as you will lmao, unedited!

“Make sure you get my good side darling.”

Before every show backstage, Wilbur would always tell you to quote: “get my good side” whatever that meant. It was impossible to get his bad side. Every angle Wilbur Soot always looked ethereal, and that had nothing to do with your photography skills.

You would gaze up at him from the pits, readily pointing your camera to capture any shot of him playing his heart out to the screaming fans behind you. Rightfully so, you couldn’t deny how good he looked up on that stage.

Skin glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, and the light eyeliner slightly smudged in the corners of his eyes. His lips pulled up in a smirk as he flipped his hair in a certain way when a beat dropped. It was undeniable now, that he was doing this on purpose. He was goddamn attractive and he knew it.

After the show you would always sit in one of the green room chairs, keeping to yourself and letting the excitement of the after-show buzz from the band fill the room. You were scrolling through the photos, admiring your work on a picture of Ash with the lightning just right when you felt a presence creep up behind you.

“That ones quiet good,” Wilbur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, and he laughed at your startled state.

“Thanks,” you replied, returning to scrolling through your pictures but Wilbur stayed right by your shoulder. Sounds of his bandmates laughter filled the space, he couldn’t care to jump into their conversation. Too entranced by your photography. Wilbur had never truly seen your work before. Of course there was pictures the band used for the instagram account, but those were taken by their previous photographer.

You were new, and Wilbur had briefly seen your work before. Only two shows into the tour, you didn’t have the time to sit with the lead singer and exhibit your entire portfolio to hkm. But seeing how you captured his presence on stage so well, with the white strobe light hitting him at just the right angle, caused his interest to be peaked even further. It made him want to get to know you better.

“you know, we make such a pretty picture,” you can hear the deviousness in his voice and the underlying meaning behind his own lyrics he was using towards you. It warms your cheeks and you avoid his eyes that are burning into the side of your face.

You cleared your throat and repositioned yourself in your seat. “whatever you say, its all you up there on that stage,”

The next night, standing once more in the pits, camera ready as the first chords of 'Portrait of a Blank Slate' blasted through the venue speakers, and screams exploded around you. As the color lights switch from dark blue to deep red, Wilbur saunters to the microphone and begins singing the first lyrics.

You lift your camera up to your face and look through the viewfinder to be met with an up-close Wilbur, who is pressing his lips right into the microphone. A smirk pulled the corner of his mouth when he peeked open his eye to catch you pointing your camera at him. Cheeky bastard.

As he sang the next few lyrics, his hands lift up to the top part of his shirt where it was unbuttoned. Running his index finger from from his collar down to his chest, he sang; ‘shes an artist, paints across my chest,’ while sending you a quick wink.

Your mouth parted in utter shock and felt your heart beating in your ears. How does this man do this to you? You hadn’t even known him that long, but he was making you feel dizzy with the slightest little actions. You quickly shook away any thoughts popping into your mind and took a couple more photos of him. The last one was of him leaning back while strumming the next chords, then you moved on to capture more of the other band members. You just had to force yourself away from him before you got carried away.

That same night later on the tour bus, you were going through your photos again. One in particular caught your eye, it was of Wilbur with the red lights behind him casting him in a dark glow, and his guitar lifted into the air while he threw his head back. Infamous rockstar pose, you decide to call it. You chose a couple more to post to your professional instagram account, tagging the band members each in their respective photos.

About an hour later a notification came up on your phone that a mutual had commented on your photo. You checked it and immediately felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the words on your screen.

@/WilburSoot: Told you we make such a pretty picture ;)

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @highstonedcat

if you want to be added or removed from the taglist let me know!

[buckysgrace]

1. Wicked Game

Now That We Don’t Talk

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Mayfield OC

CW: Stepcest, unprotected p n v sex, cheating

She stared in the mirror, trying to see how else she could make herself look older as she looked at the way her hair was pinned up. Her face was still slightly round, too baby faced in her opinion. She was supposed to get married today. How was she supposed to do that when she still looked so young?

She brought her brush up again, trying to decide if her eyes needed a fresh coat of color when she listened to the door creaking open behind her. She straightened up a bit, biting down on her bottom lip as she followed the trail of the blonde boy behind her. 

His hair was tied out of his face, loose blonde curls drifting onto his forehead as he snaked his way up behind her. She squealed softly as he pressed her forward, hips digging into the counter as he rested his warm chest against her back. 

“You’re not supposed to see me.” Kim giggled, her face burning as Billy’s hands wandered across her curves. He leaned forward, chin falling into the crook of her neck as his lips curled into a smirk.

“You’re not in your dress yet,” He grinned mischievously as his hands gripped her tits. She whimpered as he palmed at her bra. It was simple. White, lacey and see through. It matched the pair of panties that she had on as well, “Just had to see you first.” He mumbled as his lips brushed against the crook of her neck.

“So impatient,” She bit her lip as she met his gaze in the mirror, “I want you.” She told him honestly, needing to feel his cock inside of her before things became official. Just before she was married. 

“One last time?” He asked her softly. She nodded her head, knowing it was too late for her to change her mind. She’d always give into him. 

He dragged his lips against the curve of her shoulders, making her sigh softly at the feeling. They were soft, but slightly rough at the same time. It felt nice as his large palms kneaded at her tits, squeezing softly as he began to rut his bulge against the curve of her ass.

She turned, arm moving behind his neck as she pressed her lips against his roughly. She moaned at the electricity that traveled through her veins, burning her as his lips dragged roughly against hers. 

He gripped her neck, squeezing her softly to keep her in place as he slid his tongue inside of her mouth. She moaned as she pressed her tongue against his, dragging slowly as she savored his taste on her tongue. 

She rubbed her fingers across his jawline softly, holding onto him as her tongue swirled around with his. She felt like she was floating, her mind hazy as he moved them onto their knees. She giggled against her mouth, sighing softly as he pushed her back onto the floor playfully.

“You look pretty,” He mumbled as he tugged at the straps of her bra, smirking before he removed her bra completely. She bit her bottom lip, dropping her eyes towards the floor. She still felt shy around him, especially when he looked at her so intensely, “Eyes up here.” He teased as he tapped his finger against her chin, making her follow his lead.

He traced his thumb lightly across the curve of her lips before he dropped his hands. His eyes stayed on hers, staring her down as he slid her panties aside. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to keep her heart from hammering too roughly inside of her chest in case it decided to explode.

Her eyes drifted down his taut muscles, his golden skin as he pulled his pants down. She turned her gaze away from his eyes then, staring at his hardened cock as excitement pooled through her. She savored the curve of his cock, his thick girth as he gave himself a little squeeze. Then smirked all cocky, clearly knowing the effect that he had on her.

“What do you want?” He hummed softly as he drifted his tip through her pink folds, smearing his precum across her clit. She whimpered at the feeling, fingertips twitching as she remembered the feeling of the stretch of his cock. 

“You,” She breathed out at first, blinking roughly to keep her mind from fogging over. His gaze turned towards her in surprise, making her a little worried, “I want your cock.” She whispered softly, rolling her hips forward to make a point. His expression softened. Good save.

“I’ll treat you good,” He teased as he slid his tip against her hole, making her squirm as he slowly pushed himself inside of her, “That’s it, Red. Taking my cock like a good little whore.” He groaned as he filled himself to the brim, his balls pressing against her skin.

She shivered underneath him, trembling as he leaned over top of her. Her thighs fell against her chest, squishing her boobs as he crowded in on her. She moaned as the tip of his cock pressed against her bundle of nerves, making her croon as the pleasure toppled over her.

“Yeah?” He teased, mocking her as he used one hand to grip her chin. His warm air slid against her face, making her yearn for more as his minty taste tickled her features, “It feels that good?” He mocked, pouting out his bottom lip as he spoke all high of himself. But yeah. It really did.

“More,” She whimpered as she rocked her hips forward, her cunt squelching around his thick girth, “Please, Billy. Wanna feel more of you.” She begged him as she gripped a hold of his biceps.

He groaned as he dropped his head, just barely brushing his lips over hers as he began to build a steady pace. She sighed against his open mouth, clit throbbing in pleasure as her body burned from his motions. Her legs ached, chest felt heavy as he balanced his full weight on top of hers. 

Everything felt too intense as she writhed underneath him, trying to keep her eyes open as the lust spread through her body. Her veins were burning from the feeling of her skin on his, the feeling of her cunt wrapped tightly around his cock. LIke he belonged. It felt too perfect, almost too much. 

She tilted her head up, crashing her lips messily against his to keep her sounds at bay. She didn’t need anyone to become suspicious or curious. Her moans vibrated across his lips as he rutted his cock deep inside of her, making her head swirl and pleasure form deep inside of her chest. 

His tongue dove into her mouth, licking and sucking as his rough hands moved to her hips. He gripped her easily, rocking her up and down the curve of his cock like she weighed nothing. Each time his cock hit her g-spot, making her toes curl and fire spread deep within her. 

“Right there,” She cried out, holding her ankles up to her head as Billy rammed his cock in and out of her wet cunt, “Feels so good.” She whined loudly as her head fell against the hard floor. She felt like she was in a haze, the very best dream she could ever have. She didn’t want to wake up from this.  

He was so deep inside of her, the tip of his cock pressing against her bundle of nerves with each hard thrust. Her walls stretched across his girth, leaving her breathless as the sound of their bodies connecting filled the room. It was a dirty melody, filthy. But she loved it. 

“You’re so good for your big brother,” He groaned as he gripped the back of her thighs, squeezing roughly as he dragged his cock in and out of her slick pussy. Her mind felt hazy as she locked eyes with him, savoring the blissful look on his expression, “Fucking whore.” He hissed, sweat dripping onto his forehead as her back dragged against the floor. 

Her legs felt numb as her fingernails dug into her skin as he continued to rut his cock deep inside of her, sliding himself in even further than before. She could taste his breath as she inhaled; could feel his cock throbbing against her walls. 

Her thoughts became a blur as her muscles contracted, her walls breaking down as loud gasps left her mouth. He quickly shushed her, shoving his palm over her lips to muffle her sounds. Her eyes rolled back, body shook as she came around his cock.

He grunted roughly on top of her, skin sliding easily against hers as his movements became rough and choppy. He held onto her tightly, thrusting into her twice before he came to a halt deep inside of her.

“Fuck,” He cursed, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure as his jaw relaxed in awe, “Jesus.” He huffed, staring down at her with lust filled eyes as he came inside of her. Everything inside of her burned, desperately wishing she could tug him closer to her. She didn’t want to let go. 

He huffed as he gently sat up, letting her legs rest around him. She giggled softly at the feeling of the blood rushing to her feet, her body feeling heavy as he squeezed at her hips. His smile was warm for once, his hair resting over his forehead as she tried not to admire him too closely. But God was he handsome.

He hummed quietly as he pulled himself free, snagging a few tissues to clean himself up before he got himself dressed. He moved onto his knees, then onto his feet as he turned away from her. Signaling to her that it was really over. 

“I’ll see you out there?” She asked as she slowly dressed herself once again, flushing at the feeling of their mixture dripping from her cunt. Her thighs were trembling, but it felt nice. A reminder. 

“Uh, yeah,” He nodded his head, “I am a groomsman.” He laughed as he worked on buttoning his shirt, his eyes staying away from hers for the longest time. She gulped, desperately wanting him to look at her. 

“Yeah,” She rubbed the back of her neck, “Maybe-,” She trailed off, unsure of where she was going with her thought. He observed her, like he was waiting for her to speak the truth. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face rejection from him, not again. He had made things clear a long time ago. This had been strictly pleasure. 

“It was nice for our last time,” He mumbled as he took a step closer, holding her chin softly, “See you around.” She savored the feeling of his skin against hers, desperately wishing for one last kiss. It didn’t even have to be a deep one, just a little peck.

She savored the freckles on his cheeks, the dark shape of his eyebrows and the curve of his mouth as he traced his thumb across her lips. She moved a little closer, only to have him pull away. He gave a stiff smile. That was it. That was all she got.

She watched him leave, sinking into her familiar hole of guilt and shame. It didn’t matter how many times this happened, she always felt disgusting afterwards. But it also made her want him that much more. She wished he felt the same.

Wrong. It was wrong. There would be no real relationship between them. It was all over now. It had to be. She reminded herself that as she dressed herself again, trying to bury any of her wrongdoings underneath layers of makeup. She could hide it away. Billy would want her to. 

Her dress wasn’t something that she had envisioned herself in before, but everyone insisted that it looked better than the poofy sleeves and ballroom silhouette that she wanted. They said that this one was timeless. It hugged her chest gently, the sleeves wide at her wrists as it softly billowed off of her body. A little too exposing for her comfort. 

“Look at you,” Susan smiled brightly, touching her hair gently once she was all zipped up, “You look so beautiful.” Her grin was far too wide as she inspected her, like she was trying to find any little imperfections. She had been doing quite a bit to impress the Hagan’s. So had Neil. Kim figured it had to do with their money and their own little power. 

“Thank you,” She replied shyly, bringing her eyes towards the floor as Neil waited behind her. There had been quite a bit of uproar from the two of them when she had firmly stated that her own father would be walking her down the aisle. Not Neil, “I’m scared.”

“There’s no reason to be,” Her mother insisted, “You’re going to be so happy with Tommy. He’ll take care of you.” Kim knew she didn’t mean it in a threatening way, but she knew that as long as she was with Tommy it meant that she could take care of them. Her happiness didn’t really matter. 

“Okay,” She breathed out deeply, “I’m ready.” The words felt odd on her tongue, heavy as she was unsure if that was the truth or not. Was she ready? It seemed odd, felt even more bizarre when she was whisked out and Billy was nowhere in sight. Where did he go? She wanted one last reassuring look from him, a promise that this was what he had really wanted. 

Compliments and music fell numbly to her ears, a simple buzz as she gripped the flowers tightly in between her fingers. Orchids. They weren’t her favorite, but they were pretty. Tommy’s mother had insisted that they would look better and she had been too timid to speak her own thoughts. It had been weeks later when she’d discovered that his mother had recommended them for fertility purposes.

Almost everything about the wedding had been done without her say. Everything was far too elegant for her, which was okay. She appreciated it, she really did. But many things she thought they could save money on had been bought and purchased proudly. Nothing was handmade, all bought from expensive shops. 

She knew that without a doubt that this was just the beginning of the rest of her life. His family would forever walk all over her, just like her mother and stepfather did. She’d be stuck, her words holding no means as everyone else made decisions around her. But no one really cared what she thought, so why should she get worried about it now? At least she’d be loved. 

She was out of place, being forced into a role that she wasn’t sure she could keep up. But she’d have to. It was too late to turn back, to get cold feet. If she left now, she’d have no one. 

“You know,” Sam added softly as he took her hands, “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.” He whispered underneath his breath, keeping the conversation between the two of them. 

“What?” She asked breathlessly, eyes widening in disbelief. He had been the only one to suggest such a thing. Everyone else was adamant that Tommy would be good for her. He was good for her. 

“If you’re not ready,” He started slowly, “Or if it just doesn’t feel right. You don’t have to do this. We can call it off, I can do it for you.” He patted her hand gently, making her heart hammer roughly inside of her chest as a bead of sweat fell down the back of her neck.

She thought about it for far too long, pictured Billy the whole time as well. Could she live with herself if Sam helped her leave? She couldn’t leave Tommy at the altar, but perhaps that would save some hurt later down the road. But she reminded herself that there was no one else. Tommy was in love with her. The only person who had ever loved her in such a way. 

“Are you telling me this to support me or because you don’t like Tommy?” She asked him softly, trying to make the atmosphere less tense. She was close to breaking down, to taking his offer and running with it. She could get away. She didn’t have to do this.

“You’re nineteen,” He drew out softly, “You have your whole life in front of you. I just want to make sure this is what you want.” His brown eyes were soft, too gentle for her to look at for too long. 

The music changed, signaling her that it was time to begin walking. Her heart pounded rougher, so fast that she swore everyone else could hear it. She didn’t want to walk in front of everyone, she didn’t want to become some little doll for them to play with. But she was. That was her future. She had one more quick second to change her mind, to decide her own future.

“Kim?” Sam repeated, bringing her gaze back up towards him as her throat became dry. The doors were open, exposing them to everyone. Her knees felt weak, her tongue heavy as she stared. She couldn’t do it. Not with everyone staring. She needed to move. 

“I’m just nervous,” She said at last, feeling like she might vomit all over her shoes, “I’m okay.” She did her best to comfort him, gripping him tightly for support. She was sure that her father was no fool, he could feel her trembling against him. She could blame it on her shyness. That was it. She was just scared. She was being silly. 

She breathed in deeply, then exhaled roughly as her eyes scanned the church as Sam guided her inside. She felt like she was being dragged along, her feet in thick cement blocks as he pushed her further and further towards the front of the church.

Tommy stood with his hands crossed, his cheeks pink and a soft smile on his lips. She nodded as she tried to reassure herself that this was right. Her eyes continued to wander, searching for the spot Billy was supposed to be standing in. 

She looked at Sam in confusion, but had no time to ask questions before she was ushered forward. Her heart beat too roughly inside of her chest as Tommy took her hand, his palm slightly warm and clammy. 

She gave him a reassuring smile as everything drowned out underneath her pulse racing and veins vibrating. Her body was too loud as she tried to search in the crowd, looking for where Billy might be lingering.

He was going to stop the wedding. She was sure of it. This would be it. He’d finally tell her his true feelings. She knew that he would. That he had to.

But then the priest rushed through that part of the speech and then rings were exchanged with their little vows. Everything felt robotic, or like she was in some sort of trance. This wasn’t right. She knew that, so why wasn’t she stopping it.

“I do.” Tommy answered, making her gaze snap back towards him and away from where she kept looking at the door. She blinked, reminding herself that she shouldn’t be searching. She shouldn’t be distracted.

And she was again as the question turned towards her. Her mouth parted but no words came out as suddenly everything was quiet, far too silent as she suddenly couldn’t speak the words. She swallowed roughly, afraid of what else may come up if she forced the words up. 

She looked around the church once more, taking in the faces of friends and family members as she suddenly felt as if her heart weighed thousands of pounds. Like it had dropped through her body and now laid at her feet. Her hands trembled before she turned back to face Tommy. Her soon to be husband. But not the one that she wanted to marry, that she really wanted to be with.

She looked in his concerned brown eyes as she tried to get her tongue untangled, reminding herself that it was pointless to stand and wait. Billy was gone. He wasn’t going to stop the wedding, nor did he have any desire to marry her. She was just a plaything to him. He didn’t love her.

“I do,” She answered at last, breathing in deeply as she forced a smile up to her lips, “Of course I do.” She exhaled, knowing that the price had been paid. There was no going back now. 

Tags: @cassandracorvo

(if you wanna be added lemme know!!)

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Tom Riddle x Reader - Canon Complaint ending.

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed, bleeding, self-harm, vomiting, (y/n) is going THROUGH it. horror elements. Tom Riddle.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4- -Part 5- -Part 6- -Part 7- -"Good" ending- -Bad ending-

=

(y/n) huffed in frustration as she looked through the restricted section for the third night in a row, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure Filch or Madam Pince wouldn’t catch her.

Tom had told her to look for a few particular books that were filled with information about possession and how to expel it, but it seemed there was nothing in Hogwarts about that sort’ve thing oddly enough.

Explaining such a thing to Tom seemed to puzzle him, as in his years of school, he was quite certain the library had those sorts of books.

‘might’ve been because of the war and demons or possessive spirits were more rampant back then. Now that the world is in a peaceful era, there’s no need for those type of books.’

Tom had reasoned and (y/n) had to concede, because back then-during World War two and the uprising of Grindelwald, there had been a lot more to the defensive classes at Hogwarts, like full dueling classes and multi hour-long sessions of DADA.

How did she know that? Simple research in ‘Hogwarts a history’. That and she’d asked Tom.

She huffed in frustration again as she once again didn’t find the books she was looking for, leaving the library and sneaking back to her dorm room, carefully stepping back into her room-making sure not to wake up her roommates, and toeing off her shoes, climbing into her bed. She closed the curtains and grabbed Tom’s diary from her jumper pocket, grabbing her pen and opening the diary.

“I still couldn’t find anything :c”

‘Damn, not even the locked books?’

“no, nothing about ghosts other than how they’re created, but that stuff was in the normal part of the library.”

(y/n) sighed in frustration, rubbing her face as her inked words faded and Tom’s elegant scrawl replaced it.

‘I have an idea. I don’t know if it’ll work, but in my era-those types of books were available in the library, perhaps they’ll be available here.’

(y/n) bit her thumbnail, knowing what he was suggesting. Her going back into his subspace, all for the slim chance of possibly getting her hands on information to expel a possession. It was risky, because her going into his space meant either her using up a lot of her magic and leaving her vulnerable, or him using his limited supply of magic and being unable to communicate with her for a few days.

But it was a risk she would have to take.

“okay. Lets try.”

In a flash of familiar light and a tug at her wrists, (y/n) was within Tom’s diary once again. She felt his arms wrap around her as she landed and after a split moment of looking into his sepia-toned eyes, he took her hand and led her to the library, easily unlocking the restricted section with a wave of his hand.

She quickly pushed through the gates and looked through the books from Tom’s era. There were thankfully all titled, which meant the core Tom, the one who had enchanted his personality onto the diary, had remembered these books before casting the spell.

She grabbed one of the books titled ‘possessions and reanimations’ and the lock melted away like ink, and she glanced over her shoulder Tom-who was watching her like a hawk, his eyes intense. She swallowed down the feeling of nervousness and opened the book.

It was completely fucking. Blank.

She let out a low scream/shriek of frustration and shoved the book back into the shelf, looking through the other books as well. All empty.

“There's nothing here!” (y/n) cried, sinking to the floor, burying her face in her knees. Tom frowned, looking up at the shelves.

“Odd, I suppose I don’t remember these books as I thought I did, I apologize (y/n), I’ve wasted your time.” Tom said very softly, kneeling beside her and resting his hand on her head. (y/n) let out a long shuddering sigh, letting her legs slide out in front of her, her nose burning as tears built in her eyes.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered to herself, she had no one to talk about this to in the real world, and Tom could only do so much. Tom hummed softly and sat next to her, his foot knocking against hers gently.

“I wish I could do more,” he said softly and (y/n) let out another long shuddering sigh, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

What was she going to do?

Moments later, Tom booted her from the diary-she understood why-her being there drained a lot of magic from him-or well her it seemed today, as her nose was bleeding again.

She sighed, wiping her nose and closing Tom’s diary, putting it under her pillow. She felt jittery, too nervous to go to sleep-worried that the heir might try to possess her again tonight while she slept.

Still, she lay down, hands going under her pillow, connecting with the diary and she clutched it, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes. The diary was warm under her hands, it felt alive-reminding her that Tom was there-practically real, as real as a personality enchantment could get.

She fell asleep, thankfully waking up in her bed. She sighed, rubbing her face and tired eyes, grabbing Tom’s diary from under her pillow and slipping it into her bag as she got ready for the day.

At breakfast she was distracted, trying to figure out what she was going to do, her friends tried to ask what was wrong, noticing how out of it she was, but she told them she was just stressed from exams coming up and the whole chamber of secrets situation.

They understood and let her be after that, but each time she passed one of them on the way to class, they gave her a little smile or hug, which she greatly appreciated.

By the time classes were done, (y/n) was exhausted, like, super exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open, and her eyes were almost hurting with how tired she was, which was unusual because she’d slept fine the night before.

She climbed into her bed, not even taking her shoes off, and passed out.

-

‘Get up.’

A voice in her head echoed, and without her will, she sat up, her mind still a haze as if in sleep-unaware of what she was doing. She slowly slipped off her bed, grabbing Tom’s diary from her bag, and walking out of her room.

In a daze, she left the common room, not responding to anyone that greeted her as she walked past. Her vision was dim, a hazy unconscious glaze in her eyes as she walked down the corridors. She went up several flights of stairs, passing by a teacher or two on her way, paying them no mind-and they didn’t seem to pay her any mind either.

She went to the 2nd floor corridor, just in front of the haunted girl's bathrooms.

She drew up her sleeve, raking her nails down her arm until she bled, and then coated her fingers in her blood, extending her arm to the wall and writing down the words that were muttered in her head.

She stepped away as the last letter was written, her arms hanging limply at her side, Tom’s diary clutched in her other hand. She turned her heel and walked into the bathroom, stopping in front of the sink and looking at the one just in front of her.

“Open.” She said in parseltongue, and the sink transformed, revealing a large hole beneath the sinks that led deep beneath Hogwarts.

She jumped without a moment of hesitation, the sinks closing back together and sealing the tunnel once again. The wind blew through her hair and at her face as she descended through the tunnel, hitting the slimy floor as she flew out the other side. She got up, making sure Tom’s diary was still in her hands, and continued through the tunnels, not even taking out her wand for light.

She went through several tunnels, crawled through a cave, and finally turned into a hallway with a dead end, two snakes curled up around each other with emeralds for eyes, which glinted at her eerily.

“Open.” She said in parseltongue again and the snakes' eyes glowed and they moved, a split in the wall appearing and opening the doors inward. She entered the chamber of secrets, her shoes splashing on the flooded flooring as she made her way towards the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

She took a breath, and then slumped to the floor, Tom’s diary resting on her chest as her vision went completely black again, a wet hot feeling coming from her nose as footsteps echoed around her.

-

She felt a sudden rush of energy as warmth overcame the coldness that had overtaken her and she gasped, her eyes snapping open just as a bright light engulfed the chamber, a strange visage of Tom disappearing at the same time-exploding into bright golden light.

She sat up, staring at the space where she just saw Tom, panting heavily as she turned, looking behind her to see…Harry Potter? Who looked pale and weak, the diary in front of him…bleeding ink.

“What…the fuck?” (y/n) murmured to herself, gently grabbing the diary, Harry frowning a bit as he did so.

“He was manipulating you,” Harry began to explain, sounding weaker and weaker by the second. “He was slowly possessing you, draining your life to gain his back…” (y/n)’s heart dropped at the explanation, her eyes glued to the diary that had a hole stabbed through it, a fang in Harry’s hand with blood and ink all over it.

“But…he,” (y/n) muttered, tears filling her eyes as the diary slipped from her hands and into the water below. “He…” she didn’t know what to say, her eyes drifting back up to Harry, gasping as she saw how beaten he really looked. “Shit-kid-what the fuck happened to you?” she asked, scooting closer on her knees, looking at his arm, her eyes widening at the large bite wound. “What did that?!”

Harry looked to the side and (y/n) followed his gaze, gasping as she saw a giant serpent, a basilisk, lying dead nearby. “You killed that thing?” she asked, and Harry nodded, pointing weakly at the sword next to him. “…holy shit kid,” she muttered, her brows pinched.

Harry was looking weaker by the second and she remembered basilisk venom was very very deadly; Harry would be dead at any second. “Shit we gotta get you outta here-fuck how do we get out of here?!” (y/n) panicked for a moment and then a screech came from above, Dumbledore’s familiar, Fawkes, came soaring from above and landed next to Harry, tears dropping from his eyes and onto Harry’s wound.

Harry smiled as he felt the venom in his veins disappear, his energy returning. “Phoenix tears have healing properties,” Harry muttered, smiling at (y/n), who gave a weak unsure smile in return.

They got to their feet, (y/n) clutching the diary as Harry collected the sorting hat (she wasn’t going to question anything right now) and the sword that had killed the basilisk.

They exited the chamber of secrets, finding Ron and the dumbass Lockhart (it lifted her spirits a bit to know he was a fraud and a coward and had lost all his memories, he kinda deserved it). After that Fawkes found a way out through the caves and air-lifted them all out, Audrey hanging onto Lockhart's ankle while Harry and Ron held onto her hand.

(y/n) clutched the diary in her hand as they made their way to Professor McGonagall’s office, and Harry pushed open the door. (y/n) felt her heart stutter seeing her mom, dad, and brothers, dropping Tom’s diary to the floor as her parents gasped out her name and she was engulfed in a hug.

She leaned heavily into her dad, sobbing terribly as he held her tight.

It was over.

Tom had tricked her.

He had lied to her the whole time.

Stupid fucking personality enchantment.

-

She was sitting in front of Headmaster Dumbledore, her arms crossed as she slumped in the chair in front of his desk, his eyes on her, kind and understanding.

“I do not blame you, Ms. (y/n), Mr. Riddle has always been charming, even when he was younger. You are not at fault for falling for those charms, especially when he so dutifully leaned into being your friend and pretending to be one.” Dumbledore said kindly and (y/n) let out a shuddering sigh, wiping away her tears.

She felt physically better than she’d had in months, months; ever since the diary had been destroyed, which was laid in front of her on Dumbledore’s desk, and now she knew why she hadn’t been feeling well. That didn’t mean she felt emotionally or mentally well.

Tom had been behind it all, Tom…Voldemort; had tricked her, gained her trust, and used it against her to slowly drain her life force from her to be able to resurrect himself as his 16-year-old self.

“When I look back on everything,” she spoke quietly, voice cracking and wavering as she remembered every conversation with Tom, all the gaps in her memory, all the times she’d woken up somewhere not in her bed, all the nightmares-how Tom seemed to know far more than she ever told him.

“I just feel so…stupid, it was all so obvious,” (y/n) mumbled, a sob breaking her sentence as she closed her eyes. “But he felt so…real, so genuine… but he was just lying to me all along.” (y/n) said weakly, burying her face in her hands.

“Tom Riddle was a very smart, charming boy who knew how to get what he wanted, regardless of what he had to do to get it. He even tricked me, and I could never prove when he was responsible for certain things that he did around the school-I believed he had been the one to open the chamber of secrets, as he had shared with me he could speak to snakes when I first met him, and I knew only those descended from the Slytherin line could do that, and yet I knew he had fooled everyone else to believe he was a charming, good boy, that could do no wrong. He did the same thing to you, and I refuse to let you believe you were tricked because you’re stupid. No, you were tricked because he’s too smart, and used your feelings for his own gain.” Dumbledore said softly, standing from his desk and walking around it, resting a hand on (y/n)’s head.

(y/n) sniffled and lifted her head, staring at Dumbledore who offered a kind understanding smile. “You are not at fault for what he did, you are a victim.” Dumbledore said softly and (y/n) nodded, understanding that, but it didn’t mean she still wasn’t blaming herself for getting caught up in Tom Riddles, young Voldemort’s, lies.

“I think Im going to go take a proper nap, Professor Dumbledore.” (y/n) said softly and Dumbledore nodded, allowing her to leave. She glanced back at Tom’s diary as she opened the door, and then closed it behind her, leaving the diary behind as well.

-CC ending.-

welp-here it is! hope you guys like this ending as well as the 'good' ending, took me oddly a long time to write, hopefully i can at least write the bad ending out before i leave for vacation, but in the meantime, you guys have this to read~!

taglist!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

@kayytt-2 @chimchoom @joyfulnightmare-hq

@theicypiscean @discofairysworld @simpforih44

[lifeissimssnapshots]

🫧𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕦𝕞𝕡 📷✨🫧

Just a little photo dumb 🫧✨

[shadowdaddies]

I love your work ❤️ can I request a Ruhn x fem!reader, where ruhn hasnt been a very good boyfriend, like he is working a lot, and has to put off many date, the reader is trying to be understanding. maybe there are supposed to have a date but ruhn is late, he comes into the restaurat and sees that the waiter is talking to the reader and she is laughing. Some angst and ruhn is scared he is going to be single, but a fluffy ending

Try Hard

Ruhn x Reader angst/fluff

A/N: I put a little twist on this, hope that's okay💜

Smoothing the front of your sleek black dress, you stepped out from your bedroom to the sound of a low whistle. Bryce laid back against the couch cushions, blanket draped over her legs as she looked up from her phone with a knowing smirk.

“You look hot,” she praised, golden eyes flicking down your form - hair down in loose waves, silky fabric of the dress hugging your curves - and winked. “What time is Ruhn supposed to get here?”

The small light in your eyes at her compliment dimmed at the question. “He should have been here twenty minutes ago,” you mumbled, glancing down at your phone to avoid meeting her gaze.

Bryce’s demeanor changed at that, a subtle shift in how she reclined on the sofa. Long, manicured nails flipped her own phone anxiously as her gaze bounced between you and screen of messages. 

“Well, he’s probably dealing with those alphaholes in the Aux, but you know Ruhn’s never late.” Scooting in her legs closer to her body, she patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit with me while you wait. I’m just watching ‘Fangs and Bangs’.” 

Eyes flicking to the couple on the TV, you slumped down on the couch, feeling lower than you ever had. Bryce was wrong - Ruhn had been late, nearly every time you’d seen him over the past several months. That is, when you saw him at all. 

He blew you off more than followed through on dates, and when you were with him, it was as though his mind was elsewhere. Anytime you tried to talk to him beyond shallow conversation, his eyes would dart from yours, opting to stare down at your hands over your face.

You couldn’t stop the tears that welled in your eyes as tumultuous thoughts raced through your head. You loved this male more than you had ever thought possible, yet here he was, like he wasn’t even trying. 

“Hey,” Bryce murmured, voice soft as she set her phone down. A hand came to rest on your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles there to coax you to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Sniffling, you took a deep breath while your hands found the tassels on the pillow next to you very fascinating. “I don’t think Ruhn loves me,” you whispered, the words immediately feeling wrong once they left your lips. 

“Or... It’s not that he doesn’t love me,” you continued. “Maybe just not like I love him, or he doesn’t see a future with me?” Words tumbled from you faster than you could process, pent up emotions from the last several months coming out to Bryce as you told her of Ruhn’s detached behavior.

Her face was pale, crumpled in anguish that matched your own. She took a long moment before responding, “I know he loves you... But I also know I’m not the person you need to hear that from. Why don’t you see what happens tonight? Talk things through with him?”

Amber eyes were soft with understanding as you swallowed thickly, granting her a weak nod before checking your phone once more to find no response from Ruhn. “We’ve probably already missed our reservation,” you mused, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as aggravation overtook you.

“Then go,” Bryce suggested. “They have his card on file, it’ll be charged to the Autumn King if all else fails,” she murmured behind a twisted smile. “You look beautiful, and deserve to have a nice evening regardless of how stupid Ruhn is.”

You looked down at your outfit, the effort you had put into looking and feeling beautiful tonight, and felt resolute as you nodded. Standing up from the couch, you gave Bryce a quick hug and thanks. 

“I’ll go to the restaurant, and I guess if he shows up or not will give me the answer I need.” Your attempt at sounding confident in your decision was weak, voice wavering at the thought of ever giving up on Ruhn, but you followed through nonetheless and hopped into a car to the restaurant.

The shakiness of your legs as you stepped from the car caught you by surprise, leaning on the handle as you willed strength to your muscles and strode inside. After an arduous explanation to the hostess that you were late for your reservation for two, and were in fact, alone, she begrudgingly took you to your table with a firm reminder that the rest of your party had fifteen minutes to show.

With a defeated sigh, you refused to look at your phone before sliding it into your coat pocket which you draped over the back of your chair. Slumped against the soft seat, you couldn’t help but feel clownish in your overdone hair and makeup. Just as embarrassment seemed to sink its claws into you, a polite voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Welcome in,” the handsome male to your left greeted, eyes sparkling with sincerity. “Could I bring you something to drink?” he asked, and your gaze drifted downward to find a name tag and uniform, toned body veiled thinly beneath.

“You look like you could use a glass of wine - or something stronger - if you don’t mind me saying,” he joked, earning a laugh from you. Stomach tightened, your eyes found his to indeed ask for a large glass of red wine when a familiar figure showed in your peripheral.

Ruhn cleared his throat, drawing your attention from the exchange to where he stood. He was in a finer suit than you had ever seen him, all black and neatly tailored to hug his form. Onyx hair shone in the dark evening lights as those violet eyes focused on you with a fae-like intensity, possessiveness practically tangible.

“We will have a bottle of your finest red. The manager should know our order, in fact. Thank you,” Ruhn greeted the waiter stiffly, waiting until the male left to take his seat across from yours.

“I was worried you wouldn’t show,” you drawled, the effort to keep the scowl from your lips distracting from that to keep the frustration from your tone.

Ruhn’s arched brow only served to infuriate you further, knuckles tightening on the arms of your chair as you dared to look at him. “You sit there silently, staring at me as though you are surprised in my doubt. But the past several months have been a constant cycle of me waiting for you, Ruhn.”

Jaw dropped slightly, purple eyes wide at your words as Ruhn had the nerve to look surprised. A scoff escaped you, gaze flicking to the bright city lights out the windows - bustling streets ignoring the advertisements and light shows that shone across from you. 

“I feel... I feel like those signs, Ruhn.” You gestured out the window. “Sending you messages, pleading for attention while you walk by like the people on the street. Do you notice me and not care, or are you trying to avoid me?”

Silver lined Ruhn’s eyes, tears threatening to spill as he reached into his pockets, hands fidgeting nervously while he thought. “I have never purposefully ignored you,” he breathed, eyes desperate as he looked to you. “To think that I might ever make you feel unseen makes me feel unworth-“

The breath stole from his chest as onyx hair whipped to the windows at your right, eyes wide. Ruhn dove in front of you, arms wide as he attempted to obstruct your view of whatever was happening. The lights changed behind him, catching several glimpses from others at the restaurant as you exasperatedly looked around his outstretched arm to look at what was outside.

‘Will you marry me?’ scrolled along the electronic billboard, bright for everyone to see. You looked down at Ruhn, the face of defeat clear as he let his arms finally drop to cover his face. 

“Ruhn...” you whispered, catching his attention from the self pity in which he was consumed. “Is that...?” 

You couldn’t find the words, merely gesturing to the bright lights outside while you studied your boyfriend’s face. He sighed, glanced over his shoulder with a nod before turning back to you.

“I was late because Dec had some issues getting the message up on the screen. But now it all seems ridiculous. I spent months planning to make tonight special, but all I did was make the love of my life feel like she isn’t special.”

Warm, tanned hands enveloped your own, resting in your lap. “I was too nervous that I might give something away, I did avoid you these past few months. But I would never have done any of this if I thought it would make you feel any less than the incredible female you are.”

You felt your lower lip wobbling, eyes welling with emotion at the realization. It wasn’t for lack of trying - Ruhn was planning for your future this entire time. “Ruhn...” you whispered, voice shaking as you cupped his cheek.

“It feels ridiculous now, to think of something as cheesy as night lights to ask you to spend forever with me, but-“

“YES!” you practically shouted, earning interested glances from other diners. “Ruhn, I would be honored to spend a lifetime with the male who went to such lengths to make me feel special, not only tonight, but since I have known you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

A broad grin stretched upon his face, crooked smile making your knees feel weak for only a moment before Ruhn’s lips crashed to yours. The echoes of those in the restaurant cheering sounded in the back of your mind as he pulled the ring from the pocket in which he’d been fumbling, slipping the band on your finger.

“I love you,” you murmured, tugging him by his chin into a deeper kiss. You glanced to the table, empty with unordered food. “Can we just go home? I only want to be with you,” you admitted.

Ruhn’s smile deepened, tongue toying with his lip ring as he considered your words. “Deal. Let’s order in,” he purred, grabbing your hand to lead you from the restaurant.

Hopping in the back of the car he’d called, you leaned into Ruhn’s warmth as he pulled out his phone to assure Bryce and Dec things had gone well. “You should have heard the call I got from Bryce after you left for the restaurant,” he grumbled, eyes wide with genuine fear.

A laugh escaped you, drawing your fiancé’s gaze to your own where he grinned with satisfaction. “What are you thinking, my love?” he asked, thumb tugging lightly on your lower lip.

“I’m thinking... how excited I am to do life with you,” you murmured, scooting closer to the warmth of his lap. His gaze grew heated, violet eyes making you shrink at the power within them for a moment before you regained your composure. “And I’m wondering,” you paused, pulling out your phone, “what you want for dinner...”

Your scrolling was interrupted when Ruhn took your phone, tucking it into his leather jacket as he pulled you fully across his hips. Hand pulled the back of your neck so your cheek brushed his. 

“I know exactly what I want for dinner, tonight and every night,” his low voice growled against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Pulling back, you looked into his eyes again, peace filling you at the familiar look of love you found. “And I want you, tonight and always,” you promised, leaning in to find the soft, promising passion of his lips against yours. Something restless settled inside of you, body and soul relaxing into his as you knew this was where you were meant to be.