#digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from reaching for him

[mivalyn]

✧.* A hand to hold ✧.* (König x panic attack fem! reader)

Y/N was always in control. Every action she performed, every word she said, was thought out and intentional. She carried herself with a cool, stable presence - either in the very center of a firefight or through the tension of a tactical briefing. To her KorTac teammates, she was consistent, sharp, and unshakeable.

But no one ever questioned the price of that composure. They did not see the cracks way beneath, the weight she silently carried. There wasn't a single flaw in the mask she wore, but that didn't make it invincible.

And tonight, it was breaking.

The debrief had started like any other. A clinical breakdown of the mission, what had gone well, what could have been done differently. But when her commanding officer critiqued her decision during the mission - "An alternative approach might have reduced civilian casualties" - it cut deeper than it should have.

She'd known. She'd been replaying the scene in her mind since they left the field. The faces of the people she couldn't save, the desperate screams, the silence that followed. She'd done everything she could, but it hadn't been enough. And now her CO's words only confirmed what her mind had been screaming since the mission ended: You failed.

By the time it was over, her chest was tight, her body coiled, ready to spring. She slipped out of the room quickly, footsteps brisk, head down. She ignored her teammates' hellos, their concerned eyes. Her breath quickened as she moved through the corridors, her mind spinning faster with each step.

They'll see. Keep it together. Not here. Not now.

She couldn't go to her quarters-not when it felt like the walls were closing in. Her feet carried her to the cellar, a place she hadn't consciously chosen. It was the bottom level of the base, used for little other than storage. It was cold and quiet and dimly lit.

She pushed through the door and stumbled down the stairs, her legs weak beneath her. The weight in her chest was unbearable by the time she reached the concrete floor. She pressed her back against a stack of crates and slid down to sit on the floor.

She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms tightly around them. She buried her face in her arms and willed the storm inside her to pass. But it didn't.

Her breathing turned into short, shallow gasps, her lungs unable to pull in enough oxygen. The room grew smaller, the walls closing in on all sides. Her chest constricted even further, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her hands shook uncontrollably, nails digging into her arms with an attempt at grounding herself.

You're weak. You're not good enough. They'll see you like this, and they'll leave you behind.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, trying to silence the spiral of thoughts, but it was like a dam breaking-years of guilt and fear and pressure pouring through all at once. Her hands moved to her temples, gripping her head as though she could physically stop her mind from racing.

Her throat constricted, her breathing quickening, ragged, and irregular. The more she tried to steady them, the more her body fought her. She fisted her hands, digging her nails into her palms, praying the pain would take her mind off it. It didn't.

It felt like drowning.

Her vision blurred and black dots danced at the edges of her sight. The cold of the concrete seeped into her, but it wasn't enough to pull her back. Her thoughts spiraled, louder and louder, drowning out the faint hum of machinery and the distant murmurs of the base.

She didn't hear the footsteps until they were close.

"Y/N?"

Her head jerked up; her sight was blurry with tears that would not fall. She blinked to settle her vision and made out a figure standing in the doorway, in a silhouette against the dim light from the stairwell. It took a moment for her brain to register who this could be. König.  

Her stomach plummeted. Of all the people who might find her, why did it have to be him?

“Go away,” she croaked, her voice hoarse and trembling. She turned her face away, her body curling inward again. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” His voice was calm, steady.

She clenched her fists tighter, her body trembling as another wave of panic threatened to pull her under. “I said leave!” she snapped, her voice breaking on the last word. “I don’t need to be fixed!”

König didn’t leave. He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the concrete, but stopped a few feet away. He knelt slowly, his towering frame lowering to her level.

“I’m not here to fix you,” he said quietly. “I’m here to make sure you’re not alone.”

His voice cut through the storm, a tenuous lifeline amidst the chaos. She turned a denial, her face pressed into her knees. "You don't understand," she mumbled, her voice muffled and weak. "Anyone who sees me like this. You see me like this. They‘ll think I'm weak."

"No," König said with a firm voice. "They won't.

"You don't understand!" Her voice rose, shaking and strained. Tears were spilling freely now, hot against her cheeks. "If they see me like this, they'll think I can't handle it. That I don't belong here."

"That's not true."  

"You don't know what it's like!" she yelled back, her voice cracking. She actually gasped for breath, her chest heaving, the panic clawing at her again.  

"I do," König said softly.

She froze, her breathing still ragged. Slowly, she lifted her head, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning,” he continued, his voice steady but quiet. “To want to disappear because the storm in your head won’t stop. I’ve felt it too.”

Her gaze searched his face, desperate for any sign of a lie. But there was none.

"You think this mask I wear is just for the battlefield?" He motioned faintly to the hood resting around his shoulders. "It's not. Sometimes it's easier to hide behind it than to let people see what's underneath."

Her breathing hitched, her tears slowing as she clung to his words.

"You're not weak, Y/N," he said firmly. "You're human. And you don't have to face this alone."

She gave a choked sob, and her shoulders shook. "I… I don't know how to stop it."

"You don't have to stop it all at once," König said, grounding. "Just start with me. Breathe with me. Can you try?"

She was hesitant, trembling in her body. "I've tried before," she whispered. "It doesn't work -"

"It will," he said, in a calm, certain voice. "Just look at me. Focus on my breathing. You don't have to do this alone."

For the first time, she let herself take in the sight of him fully. His pale blue eyes were steady, unwavering-an anchor in all the chaos. Slowly, painfully, she matched her breaths to his, though they hitched and broke several times.

"That's good," König muttered. "Again. In through your nose. One… two… three. Out through your mouth. One… two… three."

The minutes ticked by, but the storm inside her slowly muffled, the tension in her chest slowly releasing. Finally, after so many minutes, her breaths evened out. Her body slumped in exhaustion, and she wiped at her face with shaking palms. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

König said nothing. He remained as he had been, cross-legged on the cold floor. There was something calm, unyielding about his presence—a silent reassurance that she was not alone.

And for the first time in years, Y/N let herself believe it.

Word count: 1,282

[em-prentiss]

Unpopular (?) opinion but I think Aaron fell first, Emily fell harder. Emily didn’t even know what love fully felt like—she recognized attraction and platonic love, but she didn’t realize what she felt was romantic until she was already in love with Aaron. Aaron, however, recognized the slow creep of it, and though he desperately tried to stop it, he couldn’t. He knew long before she did and even tried avoiding her to keep the feelings at bay, but it was useless because once he loved, he loved hard.

[lionneee]

Aemond finds new ways to make you come

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: p in v, smit, kissing, a*al fingering, tiny bit of degradation, Dom!Aemond, taking of sexual themes, smut.��

Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader

She clenched her fingers tightly on the covers as every thrust Aemond did, jolted her forward. She moaned loudly, again and again, as she felt his tip rubbing her deliciously.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it… Yes, fuck- Keep squeezing me like that.” He groaned as he kept thrusting harder and harder, burning his cock in her to the very end. She fell on her elbows for the fierceness of his thrust, and she moaned again when she felt him grab her butt cheeks harshly in his hands, spreading them apart so he could see better what he was doing to her.

“You gonna cum again?” He smirked as he used his gasp on her to pull her back to meet his thrust.

“Yes, yes…” She mewled as she raised back on her hands and turned to look at him behind her. “Yes, please Aemond- I-I want it…” She moaned. Aemond looks at her, smirking darkly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed and bent down, his chest pressed against her back, he knew she loved this position. He puts a hand on the mattress, the other wrapping around her neck.

“Yeah? Then do it baby, cum on my cock.” He growled, squeezing her throat. She moans again, shutting her eyes closed, hovering his hand with hers, digging her fingernails on the back of his palm, feeling her orgasm approaching quickly. Her mouth falls open as she let out a loud long moan, as she let her hand fall back against his shoulder. His thrusts faltered, and stopped after a while, breathing heavily beside her ear. She takes long deep breaths, to recover from the strong feeling.

“You okay?” He asks after a while. She nodded and turned her head to look at him, opening her eyes. He kissed her deeply, passionately, slipping his tongue in her mouth, she put her hand on the side of his face as he resumed his thrusts, making her whine. He raises back on his feet, grabbing her hips tightly to fuck her again as he wants.

“Fuck! Aemond!” She moans, not ready for such a hard way so soon. He chuckles and slaps her butt, squeezing her butt cheek right after.

“I want to cum.” He simply said. “But you’re cumming again before I do it.” He smirks, grabbing her buttcheeks again, spreading them apart again. He lets his spit fall down on her slit, reaching quickly to where his cock was frantically pumping inside her. He moved her leg so she spread her legs wider, and he slipped his hand between their bodies to stimulate her clit with light pressed circles. She whined loudly and looked back at him.

“Aemond… I can’t anymore, you've done too much…” She pleaded as he kept thrusting. He scoffs and grabs her by her hair, pulling her back to him. It was true he put a lot of attention on her clit before, when he ate her out for something like an hour.

“Too much?” He laughed and leaned back to look at her backside move at every hit he did, as he kept pulling her back by her hair. “Babe, I haven’t even done it all.” He smirked, and he let go of her hair, letting her fall on the bed.

“Aem– Fuck, slow down…” She moaned, turning her head to the side, a bit of drool running from her mouth to the mattress. I was too much, too much for her to handle, she could feel herself on fire, but also she felt pleasure, it was all too much.

“Come on, princess, I know what you need…” He grinned devilishly as he leant down, putting his hand on the mattress for leverage. He slipped his thumb in her mouth and laughed when he saw her sucking it immediately.

“Look at you, fucking slut, You like this.” He kept pounding on her with a bit more slow thrust, but twice as hard, making her jump forward on the bed.

“Ah! Aem–mond–” She moaned even more loudly at one particular hard thrust, and she reached behind her, placing her hand on his buttoks, digging her nails in his skin. He lifted back up once his thumb was wet enough, pushing her hand away, bending her arm behind her. He then slapped her ass, leaving a red print of his hand on her.

“Fuck! Oh, fuck–” She whimpered loudly. He gripped hard her buttocks, spreading her apart once again, and spit over her slit.

“You’re gonna cum for me again.” He said, it was a statement, and he knew he would make it happen. Until she didn’t say the safe word, she was completely his to use and pleasure as he wanted. He kept his buttocks spread as he started passing his thumb over her little hole, one he hadn’t been able to own. 

Yet.

She moaned again, it wasn’t the first time he teased her like this, and he knew the idea of him touching her asshole drove her crazy. 

He started pressing the tip of his thumb on her little hole as he sped up his thrusts again. She clenched her hands into fists, one of her arms still behind her, like a good girl. Aemond pressed his thumb more forcefully, the fingertip getting inside of her for a moment. She gasped loudly and tried to raise herself on her arm, but Aemond made her fall back on the bed with a particular hard thrust.

“Aemond, what are yo– Ah!” He didn’t let her finish, he pushed his thumb completely inside her ass, hypnotized by the sight of filling her in both her holes at the same time. She moaned loudly again and again as he slowly moved his thumb as he kept his thrusts steady, fast and hard.

“You like it?” He chuckled as she saw her clench her hand on the sheets, and hit the mattress with her fist.

“I love it, I love it!” She moaned loudly. Aemond smiled, and he started feeling her clench impossibly tight on his cock, making it hard for him to move.

“Fuck— Aemond! I wanna cum, please make me cum!” She exclaimed. Aemond couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Oh, now you can cum for me, baby?” He asks her with a grin.

“Yes! Yes, please– I want it, please!” She kept demanding so loudly that if she was in the right mind she would die of shame. “Am I making you feel that good, baby?” He smirked as he kept working his thumb in and out of her asshole slowly, letting her feel the little stretch. “You want more?” He groaned as she squeezed him again.

“Yeah– Yes, please… I want more!” She moaned as she brought both of her arms in front of her, her hands gripping the sheets to find somewhere to hold on to as she started pushing herself back against him.

“How much more?” He asked, watching his thumb entering her repeatedly.

“All of it, please, Aemond make me cum, I wanna cum!” She pleaded desperately.

“You wanna cum with my finger in your ass? Is that how much of a slut you are for me?” He growled, squeezing her buttock with his free hand, enough to leave bruises.

“Yes, please, Aemond I’m your slut– Please-” She moaned, throwing her head back to be able to catch sight of him. He put his hand on her neck, drawing her back, making her arch her back.

“Mine.” He growls. She nods repeatedly, as her body starts shaking, and she holds on to his arm for dear life, as her jaw falls open, and she lets herself go, moaning loudly without shame. Aemond felt her ass and cunt squeeze him wonderfully, and he kept moving, pushing himself inside her, feeling his own orgasm approach.

“Oh fuck– Aemond… Ah! Wait–” She whimpers as he finally cums, giving her a few last rough thrusts. He moans out loud, slipping his thumb out of her ass, gripping her hips tightly to keep her close so he won0t slip out of her. She falls face down on the bed, her body still shaking by the intense orgasm. Aemond bent down, pressing his forehead against her back, they were both sweaty and exhausted. They were breathing heavily, loudly, their mind still numb by the pleasure they just experienced. She reached for his thigh behind her and caressed it. He rose back on his knee, and pushed once more, making her whine loudly as he smirked. He slowly pulled out of her, he quickly washed his hand before going back in the bedroom and fell back on the bed, immediately pulling her in his arms.

“I love you.” He whispers, as she comfortably laid on his chest, her eyes already closed. He smiles and caresses her hair, covering them with the blanket and closing his eye as well.

[grapejuicestyless]

Wishes Do Come True

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: It was just a legend, something out in place to make people believe in something that couldn’t be true. But when fate has its way, JJ learns that sometimes, wishes do come true. CONTAINS SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!!

Ryan shot the gun first. He shot it because Ward was charging at him, his teeth bared and his arms spread wide. How fitting that he would go out as a somewhat decent father, a man who took three bullets and threw himself over a cliff to save his daughter and her Pogue best friends.

JJ remembers the feeling of the earth bending beneath his feet as he practically sprinted over to the edge, looking down past his feet to see where the Kook and the henchman lay. JJ thought it was strange, how someone could be so crumpled up, he knew bones weren’t made to bend that way, so seeing the way his body twisted made him a little sick.

He can hear Sarahs soft cries and echoing hiccups clearly, how Kiara seemed to grab onto herself to steady her breathing. He remembers seeing how tightly John B’s arms were woven around Sarah’s body, as if he were afraid she would jump next, as if her body could save his. There was no saving that, as sick as it was.

But what he really remembers, is the softness of her voice calling out for him, the way her voice shook like it was hard to get out. Only then did the sounds of his friends stop ringing in his ears, and through some champagne party effect, he could focus in on just the quietness of her. Only then did he realize as he tried to wrap his arm around thin air that she wasn’t at the ledge.

A stray bullet, it’s a funny thing. The shots fire, four, the last four bullets the man has, and only three reach the sacrificial lamb. The last one reaches one of the seven targets behind it.

Her hands shook over her upper stomach, gripping her skin just below her ribs. Even with a shaky focus, he could see the tint of red beginning to seep past her once light blue nails, now chipped and digging into the cloth of her shirt.

“JJ, I…I don’t…” She stumbled forward, her eyes flickering from his to some distant thing over his shoulder. She could barely focus her vision. He remembers the weight of her head hitting his shoulder as he caught her, the feeling of an extra warmth seeping into his own clothes, something wet and sticky that shouldn’t be drenching the two of them, but was.

“No, no, no. Come on cupcake, come on.” He gritted his teeth, trying to hold her up, but his need to keep her up was wavering at the look of agony on her face. She laid in his lap, his hand holding hers as they both pressed down on the wound, though, it was no use because they had no way home, and the nearest hospital wasn’t for miles. They had no idea where to even begin to search for one in the middle of all the greenery.

JJ rambled in a panic, a habit he’d always done, but she couldn’t make sense of it anymore. Her hearing was fuzzy and her vision came in and out in waves of darkness. She tried to look at her friends, but her eyes wouldn’t tear themselves away from her best friend’s face.

She had just gotten him, their love was still brand new, discovered on an island they were sure they would never find again. It was barely a month since they had shared a kiss under the stars, one both had been dreaming of for years. They went back and forth for what felt like centuries and now none of it mattered, because JJ was holding his love in his arms as she helplessly spat up blood and tried to focus on the blue of his eyes and not the tears on his face.

“It’s gonna be okay, you just gotta fight, you can fight. You fucking…” JJ broke out into a bitter laugh, one he didn’t mean as his palms messily wiped away the blood that trickled down her jaw. Red smeared everywhere, sticking to every crease in his skin. It burned, and so he kept smiling because his laughter, as disingenuous as it was, brought a weak smile to her face. “You saved my life, when I fell off that boat. You kept me alive, and I’m gonna keep you alive, so don’t give up on me.”

The sight of the tears finally spilling from her pretty eyes would forever haunt JJ, because he knew as her chest caved in against his lap, that the pain was too great to make her stay and suffer through, when they both knew she was as good as dead as soon as the gun was fired.

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.” She had told him weakly, the initial throbbing turning into an intense burning, a mix of the powder and the blood that pooled around her, soaking his skin through his pants.

“N-no, come on baby…baby, cupcake, please.” He pleaded. “I love you, please.”

Her ears seemed to clear at his heavy confession, and a sweet smile, the sweet smile he had fallen for back in the third grade, graced her pretty, tired face one last time.

“I love you JJ.” She promised, blinking back the tears. Somehow, she found the strength to lift his hand from her wound and press her bloodied lips to his sticky palm.

He had to watch the way her eyes fluttered shut, one last choked breath that sounded similar to what Pope would later explain as death rattle breathing, escaped her mouth, and that sweet little smile faded into nothing as she laid dead in her best friends arms.

JJ was never quite the same after that. He still loved his friends, he was still reckless and loud and impulsive, but he seemed to do it all for her.

When they won their money finally, he thought of all the things he would’ve bought for her, all the beaches they could’ve surfed across. When he finally found a place to call home, he placed her pillow on her side of his bed, fluffed it up for her and swore some nights he could feel her head resting on his heavy chest.

He thought of how much she would have loved Poguelandia 2.0. It was bittersweet to see the flag because all he could think of was their first kiss under the white flag that waved proudly above them.

He missed their matching P4L stick and pokes, he hated that he had to look at his forever and know it no longer matched with anyone. He hated that everyone else around him had someone to lean on, a lover to come home to, when he knew he would never be able to love again. But most importantly, he hated how young she was. She was only nineteen.

John B told him it wasn’t about the time we had with those we have lost, but what we make of it, but JJ was too angry to care. He didn’t care, it was easy for John B to say when he had lost a best friend, but JJ had lost so much more.

He wore her charm bracelet on his wrist, even though it was tight and caused a lot of noise. He loved the charms on them because they were old and made of clay and they matched his rings and necklace. She made them when they were ten because they were too young for their tattoos.

He swore to never go after treasure again, he couldn’t risk it, but with the promise of a singular wish, JJ followed along like a duckling to Morocco, blood on his shirt and a new father to betray him.

“You know, they say the crown grants a wish.” Kiara broke the silence between them in the heat one day, looking up at the sky to avoid the awkwardness of eye contact. She didn’t have to ask to know he would wish for her back in a heartbeat, but she did anyway because truthfully she liked the way JJ talked about her. It made her feel like her best friend was still alive.

“Yeah?” JJ scoffed with a smirk. “What would you wish for?” He asked, leaning over the unstable ledge, bricks dusty and the cement breaking apart. It wobbled under his forearms.

“I’m not saying I believe it but…I’d wish to go back in time maybe. I’d try not to rush into everything.” She said calmly, her eyes finding JJ’s.

“What about you?” She asked softly, and JJ hummed.

“The thing about wishes is, they don’t come true if you say them.” Kiara laughed breathily at his words.

“Yeah?” She questioned for confirmation.

“Yeah.” He breathed out. “And I really want this one to come true.”

That phrase, “be careful what you wish for,” was made for people like JJ Maybank.

There’s this old game called “Monkeys Paw” that Y/n and JJ both loved when they were younger. One person would make a wish, and the goal of the game was to make that person regret that wish.

They would stay up for hours laughing about it.

If JJ wished for a pizza, the pizza was poisoned. If Y/n wanted a dog, it was rabid. They’d spend hours at a time waking up the neighbors just laughing at how outrageous they could make the faults.

Now that they were older, and now that Y/n was gone, JJ seemed to forget about the rules of the game.

He stumbled back, all air caught in his throat. He lost the crown, and he’d lost his girl, and now, here his biological father was with a knife twisted deep into his abdomen, pulling it out with a sickening crunch.

Kiara pleaded for him to keep fighting, her hands on the wound in a way that reminded him of the way he desperately pressed against Y/n’s all those weeks ago. Her cries were just as desperate, and they were just as fuzzy.

JJ now felt thankful he let her go peacefully, because living through the pain was insufferable, and he knew it would have been cruel to make her fight it any longer.

He cried a little, but he wasn’t sad. No, he was happy, even as Kiara screamed for Pope and John B, begging for help that would do no good because just like his precious Y/n, there was no way home and no help in sight.

He let out a hiccup, and his eyes focused on her brown ones as his vision cleared for a moment, the sting turning into a familiar burn.

“Kie, I never told you my wish.” He smiled, and she shook her head.

“No, Jayj, come on, you gotta fight it. I can’t lose you too.” She pleaded, and it was like he wasn’t even listening as he kept choking out words.

“I already got what I wished for.” He smiled.

All he ever wanted was a home, and though every sacred place he ever had to call that were short lived and destroyed, he had found it in the people who loved him, and the people he loved.

JJ wished for so much more than anyone thought, and he’d gotten all of it.

He had you at one point, and he was eternally grateful for every hug he ever received from your loving arms. He had Pope and John B, who made him laugh like no one else ever could, his ribs sore and his stomach shaking. Kiara and Sarah kept him grounded. He was grateful for how much they cared, how safe he felt around them. He knew he would miss his best friends more than anything else, he would miss them like family, because thats what they were.

The Pogues were his family, and his family was his home.

JJ wished for one last thing with the crown as the darkness took him. He slipped away from his body, his head lulling to the side as Kiara shook him, but he wasn’t there anymore, and he wasn’t afraid because there she was.

Kneeling beside Kiara and she didn’t even know, there she was, her sweet smile and her pretty eyes. She was holding both Kiara’s hand, and his hand, nothing more than wind to them on the ground, but now JJ could see her, and now he could hold her.

“Y/n? Cupcake?” He breathed out with a smile, the luckiest man in the world, even if his toes didn’t physically touch the dirt or the sand anymore.

“Jay…” She smiled back, a sweet sound falling past her lips, and it was simply half of his name.

As his arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried into her shoulder. It felt good to know that he would never have to let her go again, and that someday, his friends would have the same pleasure of holding him again too.

JJ’s wish had been a little greedy, because in addition to what he was already granted, he wished to be with Y/n again.

He guess he never really specified how but hey, wishes really do come true.

[aikrus]

darling, can i be your favorite ?

Explicit Content yandere?

There’s a lot that comes with dating shouta aizawa, and a lot of the learning curve was trial and error. When you learned he was like you, not the same, but like you, it was as if the world clicked. It all made sense, because everything that had happened thus far had lead you to that moment- to when you met him for the first time.

Then you learned he would get distracted- his other things calling to him- and you understood. There was a stray dog you met that you fed once and it always seemed to call out to you since, but the thought of walking down some street when you could be here drowning in Shouta was laughable.

It wasn't the same for him. The thought of riding the metro, walking to work, crossing highschool hallways and spending hours with a few hundred people, it was appealing enough to draw him away from you. All the time.

The thought had lead you out of the apartment, a few blocks over, and to some vacant lot where the stray mut laid wagging its tail upon seeing you.

You wished Shouta was with you in your home. It was the only thing you felt.

So, just like the mutt, you'd have to train Shouta to respond to you the way you wished. Hopefully his learning curve will take less than the dogs.

The apartment was too quiet without him. Every ticking second without Shouta felt like a reminder that she wasn’t his priority—that his work, his students, his endless responsibilities always came first. It gnawed at her, the knowledge that she wasn't the most important thing in his life, despite how deeply she wanted to be.

She was his. Entirely. Completely.

But what was she to him?

The answer gnawed at her every time he left their shared space, the click of the door too final as he slipped away to teach, to train, to protect. Tonight was no different. Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as she waited for the sound of him returning. The jealousy churned in her chest, burning hotter with each moment that passed.

When she finally heard the door creak open, she stood in the dim light of their bedroom, waiting. Shouta entered with his usual tired sigh, his figure casting a long shadow across the room. His eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, landed on her.

“Long day?” she asked, her voice a little too even, a little too controlled.

He hummed in response, already shedding his capture weapon and boots, not noticing the way her body was tense, on edge. Not yet.

“I missed you,” she continued, moving closer, each step deliberate.

Shouta’s gaze flickered to her then, sharp and assessing. He could always tell when something was simmering beneath the surface, but tonight, it was different. Her need for him felt like a wound that wouldn’t close. It throbbed with every breath.

His voice was low when he spoke, “I know.”

But that wasn’t enough. She needed more than just acknowledgment. She needed to be seen, to be wanted as fiercely as she wanted him. The heat in her chest rose, fueled by the jealousy she had kept bottled for too long.

She reached for his tie, fingers brushing against his throat as she loosened it slowly, pulling him closer. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t stop her.

“I want you,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “I need you.”

He was still for a moment, as if gauging her intent. His voice dropped, a familiar command threading through it, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

But she didn’t answer with words. Instead, she pressed herself against him, her body warm and soft against his. Her fingers trailed down his chest, lower, unbuttoning his shirt with purpose. She could feel the shift in him, the way his breath hitched, the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

His control was slipping, just as she had planned.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, his hands finding her hips, holding her in place.

“I need you to remember that I’m yours,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her need, her jealousy spilling out. “I need you to see me, Shouta.”

His grip tightened, pulling her closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “You think I don’t see you? That I forget?” His voice was dangerous now, laced with that intoxicating dominance that sent shivers down her spine. “You don’t need to play games like this to get my attention, darling.”

But she wanted to, needed to. She craved the way he responded to her touch, the way he looked at her when she pushed him to the edge. Her fingers slid under the waistband of his pants, tugging slightly, a challenge in her eyes. “Show me, then.”

And that was all it took. The air shifted, thick with tension as Shouta’s control snapped. He grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from his body as he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall with an intensity that made her heart race.

He growled, his breath hot against her neck as his hands pinned her wrists above her head.

Her body trembled under his touch, her mind swimming with the thrill of it all. This was what she wanted—this raw, unfiltered need. The power he held over her, the way he controlled her, dominated her. But even in this, there was trust. She trusted him with everything she had, and he knew it.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t need more encouragement. His lips crashed against hers, fierce and demanding, as if he were trying to convey everything he couldn’t say with words. His hands roamed her body, possessive, claiming every inch of her as his own.

The tension between them built, a fire that threatened to consume them both. And in the heat of their passion, she knew she had succeeded. She had his full attention, and he wasn’t going to let her forget it.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips, his voice low and dangerous. “Every part of you. And don’t ever forget it.”

Her body ached for him, every touch sending waves of pleasure through her. The dynamic between them was perfect—his control, her submission, the trust that bound them together. She didn’t need to be jealous anymore. Not when he was looking at her like this, as if she were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Her heart raced beneath his hands, every breath she took filled with the electric tension that hummed between them. Shouta's presence loomed over her, his grip firm and unyielding. The weight of his body pressed her harder against the wall, as if he wanted to remind her, forcefully, that there was no one else in his world right now—no students, no hero duties. Just her.

But it still wasn’t enough.

She needed more than his body, more than the rough way he took her lips with his. She needed to be everything to him. To feel like she was his sole focus in the same way he had become hers. Every waking moment, every heartbeat, she ached to be the center of his world, the thing he lived for.

“I want to be the only thing you think about,” she gasped against his mouth, her wrists still pinned above her head. “When you leave... when you're with them... I want you to want me like I want you.”

Shouta froze for a moment, his breath harsh against her cheek, her words sinking in deeper than any touch could. His grip tightened, but it wasn't just out of dominance now—it was a need. His need for her, just as desperate as hers for him. She could feel it in the way his chest heaved, the tension coiling in his muscles, barely held back by the thin thread of control he always wore like armor.

“You think I don’t?” His voice was rough, each word carrying the weight of his frustration. “You think I don’t spend every moment counting down the seconds until I can be with you?”

He lowered his head, his forehead resting against hers as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “You have no idea what you are to me.”

Her body trembled at his words, her heart clenching painfully. She wanted to believe him, but the jealousy still lingered, eating away at her. “I’m not enough. You—” she hesitated, her voice breaking, “You have your students, your work. You belong to the world... and I’m just here, waiting for the moments you give me.”

A small sound, almost like a growl, rumbled in his chest, and in an instant, his lips were on hers again, fierce and unrelenting. His hands, rough from years of combat, roamed down her body, exploring her as if he needed to remind her that every inch of her was his. He released her wrists, and before she could react, his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed in a few quick, determined steps.

She landed with a soft gasp, her body sinking into the mattress as he hovered above her, eyes dark with something between desire and anger. His knees pressed into the bed on either side of her hips, trapping her there, as his hands came down to cage her in.

"You think you’re just something I come home to?" Shouta's voice was low, dangerous. "Do you think I wouldn’t give all of that up for you if you asked me to?"

Her breath caught in her throat. The intensity in his gaze shook her to her core.

“Shouta…”

His fingers found the hem of her shirt, pulling it up slowly, torturously, over her head. His hands lingered, gliding down her sides, as if committing her form to memory. There was reverence in his touch, a gentleness that contradicted the raw need burning in his eyes.

“You’re not just some part of my life,” he said, his voice softening, though the rough edge remained. “You are my life. Do you understand that?”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears, her voice barely a whisper. “But you never say it. I need to hear it. I need to know.”

He stilled above her, his gaze softening for the first time that night. His hand came up to her face, cupping her cheek as his thumb brushed away a stray tear. “You want to be everything to me? You already are. You’re the only thing that matters to me—more than anything, anyone else.” His voice lowered to a whisper, intimate and raw. “I love my students. I care about what I do. But if you ever asked me to walk away from it all… I would. In a heartbeat.”

Her heart ached, every word sinking into the raw parts of her soul she had been so desperate to soothe. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Just that unwavering, steadfast devotion that had always been there, even when she hadn’t seen it.

“But you never—” she started, her voice cracking.

“I don’t say it enough,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss her forehead, his lips soft against her skin. “But you need to understand something. No one, nothing, comes before you. You have me—completely.”

Her body trembled beneath him as his words sank in, her need for him spilling over into something more intense, more desperate. She tugged at his shirt, fingers shaking as she struggled to pull it off. He helped her, throwing it aside before capturing her lips again, his hands everywhere—on her hips, her thighs, pulling her closer, closer, until it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began.

His lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake, his hands gripping her thighs as he settled between them. Every touch, every kiss, was filled with a promise. His need to reassure her, to give her everything she craved, matched her desperation to feel it.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her skin, his voice dark and possessive as his hands claimed her, each touch filled with the raw power of his love. “And I’m yours. Nothing will ever change that.”

Her body arched into his, her fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer. “Then show me, Shouta. Show me how much I mean to you.”

And he did.

Grabbing her leg and lifting it, Shouta began to rub his cock head along your folds. "I love you," he said as he teased the clit with circular movements varying in pressure. Snaking his other hand across your torso he used his fingers to part the folds, giving clear way to him and letting his palm scratch against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I love you." He pushed the tip in and felt you squeeze around it, stopping less than and inch in before pulling out and repeating again. His mouth wrapped around your nipple as he began to suck- hot and wet with a heavy tongue.

"I love you," a thin trail of saliva connected the bright pink peak to his lips as he moved further inch by inch, shuddering and brushing the hair from your face.

He bottomed out, grabbing both of your hips and pulling you taunt- the pressure inside of you had never been this grand, this all-consuming. "I love you."

His movements were slow at first, deliberate, every kiss and touch laced with the promise of everything he was giving her. But soon the tension broke, his control slipping, and his hips begging to piston back and forth.

"I love you," he gasped, his lips darting to press wide kisses down your neck before suddenly closing around the muchle of the base and biting- sucking the skin into his mouth where his tongue rapidly massaged it.

His hands, his lips, his body—every part of him spoke the words she had longed to hear, that she was everything to him.

Their connection was more than physical—it was emotional, raw, and unbreakable. With every shuddering breath, with every gasp, she felt it. The intensity of his love, the depth of his devotion. It wasn’t just the heat of the moment—it was the bond they had built, the trust they had nurtured, the way he saw her as his equal, his partner, his everything.

"Gnn, fuck," Shouta rolled the two of you over, now laying on his back, and he used his arm strength to rapidly lift you up and let you fall on his impaling dick.

"Sh-shouta," your voice wobbled with the movement as your hands found your own breasts, trying to stabilize them from the constant falling.

He growled at the sight and used his thumb to work your clit, fast and rough with callous he strung you like a violin.

"Gonna," you tried to speak but felt your tongue lulll past your lips.

"Gonna what?" He teased, huffing a laugh before his face returned to its concentrated desperate expression.

The heat only pilled, tension only raised, until it felt like you would die if this went a moment longer. That's when you fell apart.

"Shouta!" Collapsing onto him your pulsing pressure sent him on his own spiral- pumping hot inside of you as his breath moved you up and down once more in a more soothing, less exciting way.

When they finally collapsed together, spent and breathless, he wrapped his arms around her, his lips brushing against her temple.

“Never doubt me again,” he whispered. “You are my favorite thing in this world.”

And for the first time in a long time, she believed it.

[notsosweetchan]

Warning: Smut (Minors Do Not Interact)

Paring -Felix x Reader -

You’re a jerk

Link

The room was dimly lit, the only source of illumination coming from the small screen of the laptop balanced on Y/N's knees as she sat snuggled between Felix's legs. They were both on the couch, their bodies aligned in that familiar way that spoke of countless nights spent together.

The romantic comedy on the laptop screen was becoming increasingly uninteresting to Felix, but the warmth of Y/N's body pressed against him and the softness of her breath against his neck were not.

He couldn't help but steal glances at her face, the subtle movements of her lips as she watched intently, her eyelashes fluttering like butterflies against her cheeks when a particularly funny scene caught her attention. Her hands rested gently on his stomach, tracing circles as if she were creating music only for him to hear.

As she laughed at something on screen, he found himself wrapped up in the sound - low and melodic, like water flowing over smooth stones. He leaned in closer to nuzzle his face against her hair, taking in its sweet scent that reminded him of summer afternoons spent at the beach with her.

She seemed lost in the movie, completely absorbed by it, oblivious to Felix's wandering hands. One slid down her side until it rested atop the curve of her hip; the other slowly traced circles on her back. She shivered slightly under his touch, which only served to fuel his desire.

The soft fabric of her shirt clung to her skin, revealing the contours of her waist and hips, inviting him to explore further. His fingers grazed the hemline of her shorts, teasing her with promises of what lay beneath.

The material was thin enough that he could feel the heat emanating from her body through it, like a beacon calling to him. As he began to push it upwards, he couldn't help but marvel at the smoothness of her skin - like porcelain or satin - so soft against his rougher fingertips.

He traced patterns across her thighs, mapping out every inch of her legs, savoring the taste of her skin that tingled with anticipation under his touch. Her breath hitched as he reached the juncture between them, and with a gentle push, he slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties. The material stretched over velvety folds of dampness that made him shudder with pleasure.

She gasped as he touched her there for the first time, startling her out of her movie-induced trance “Lix what...” she started to say but was cut off by his finger finding its way inside her wetness, seeking out her clit.

Her swollen nub - so sensitive, so responsive - ​​felt like silk between his thumb and forefinger. He rubbed it in slow circles as he continued to tease her with his other hand, pressing down on her most sensitive spot until moans escaped her lips instead of words. He could feel her arching into him, pushing backward against his touch as she ground herself against his palm.

Felix's cock hardened against his pants, straining for release; he wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside her heat right then and there but this time was all about her. “Shh,” he breathed against her ear before pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses along her jawline, his fingers never stopping their ministrations.

Y/N let out a soft moan, her head thrown back against him.Felix's fingers worked their magic. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to believe how good it felt. His touch sent shivers down her spine, and she opened her legs wider in invitation.

Her breath came in quick pants now, and she could feel her heart racing. Her whole body was alive with pleasure as he found just the right spot and started rubbing circles around it, causing her to gasp and whimper.

The smell of his cologne mingled with the scent of her own arousal, making the air around them heavy with desire. “Felix...” she whimpered, her nails digging into the couch cushion beneath her.

As Felix continued, he couldn't help but marvel at the way Y/N's body responded to his touch - as if she'd been made for this very moment, for him to touch and explore. Her hips rose and fell in tandem with his fingers, signaling her mounting pleasure. He leaned in close to nibble on her earlobe, his voice a husky whisper against her skin, "That feel good baby?"

She could only nod incoherently, her breath coming in short pants. Felix smirked, pleased with her response. He moved his other hand up to cup her breast, squeezing it gently through the fabric of her shirt before flicking the hardened peak through the fabric.

"God, you're so wet for me," he breathed into her ear, his fingers picking up speed as Y/N writhed beneath him moaning his name.

Her orgasm was building, starting deep within her core and radiating outwards, like a wave crashing against the shore. “Oh, Lix...I'm gonna...” she panted, her whole body tensing up with anticipation.

He slid another finger inside her wet channel, curving his index and middle fingers in a "come hither" motion, knowing it would send her over the edge.

Y/N arched her back and cried out as her climax tore through her, her body convulsing around his invading fingers.

Warmth pooled between her thighs as she rode out the last few waves of pleasure before collapsing against him spent. Panting heavily, she turned to look at him through lust-glazed eyes, "You're such a jerk," she managed to say with a smile.

"We're going to finish this movie later."Felix chuckled, kissing her forehead, “I’m sorry but I couldn't help myself.“

[kittenintheden]

Before Morning's Light

surprise early morning Oristarion bang because I felt like it, enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Orianna (female OC) Word Count: 750 Content: 18+, wake up from dual nightmares and then bang the demons away

***

They wake in their shared bed in the Elfsong at nearly the same moment, both panting and fighting against their nightmares’ pull. Instinctively they find one another for comfort, hands entwining and bodies pressed tight until the shakes stop, until her heartbeat slows. They rest on their sides, embracing as best they can.

It’s very early morning, judging from the way the only light in the room comes from the yellowed and washed-out streetlamps on the street below, and as they catch their breath, they meet one another’s eyes. Bleary with sleep, steeped in the terror of a receding nightmare. An understanding sort of mirror.

Ori tilts her chin forward and kisses him, softly.

The thrum of fear and anger still pulses with nowhere to go, twining along their nerves and preventing them from settling back to rest.

Their eyes flick back to one another and a current passes between them.

Ori’s hands go to his waistband as his fingers reach up underneath the hem of her sleep shirt, their movements frantic and hurried as though this can’t happen fast enough, both uncharacteristically fumbling. She makes an annoyed hiss as she grabs hold of his shirt and yanks it up to give herself more room to work.

“Who tucks their bloody shirt in when they sleep?” she grouses in a whisper as she looks down. She can see the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his thin breeches and she needs it free immediately.

Astarion’s hand is fully under her clothing now, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her smallclothes and already pulling them down her hips with no mind whatsoever to whether he might tear the fabric. “Who doesn’t wear breeches to sleep at all?” he grumble-whispers back, bending her knee up to make it easier to get this stupid thing all the way down and over her ankle.

“Someone who plans for this exact eventuality. What in the hells is this fucking drawstring-” She pulls at it, trying to dig out the knot and prying a subdued groan from him as her nails scrape against the skin over his pubic bone.

“Get, would you get out of the-” He lifts her freed leg up over his hip and reaches between them to knock her hands out of the way so he can take over. It takes a few seconds for him to work the knot apart, and then he and she both shove them down, breeches and smallclothes together, over his arse and hips to free him. His cock springs up toward her, eager, and he thrusts between her legs without thinking, seeking her warmth.

He misses the first time, his desperation making him sloppy, and they both snipe quietly at one another until she puts a firm palm on his hip to hold him in place and rolls herself up to catch the tip of him, adjusting for angle, and gets him partway in. Then he thrusts up once, twice, and he’s inside.

They don’t even communicate the need before they each get a hand over the other’s mouth to muffle the debauched whimpering noises they make as they begin rutting with total abandon, her leg tight over his upper thigh and gripping for leverage.

Their bodies are teeming with adrenaline and nerves and need. It’s like they were already on the edge, their arousal hypersensitive and ready to burst. It’s pure, needy, unadulterated fucking, no artistry or thought behind it, only the base desire to rock and ride straight to the top.

Astarion comes first, his eyes slamming shut and his back curving with it, his moan trapped behind Ori’s fingers. His shaking free hand goes up under her clothes, flat on the small of her back as he pulses and continues to fuck into her as long as his body will let him. Close, close, close-

She cries through gritted teeth and behind her own barrier, shivering through her climax before she slows and they melt back down into the mattress beneath them. Hands drop away from mouths, chests heave for breath.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” Astarion whispers, eyes still shut, limbs going heavy.

Ori presses her mouth to his forehead, huffing out her breath. “That’s one way to exorcize our demons, I guess,” she breathes.

From somewhere beyond their privacy screen, they hear Gale groan, “By Mystra’s holy tits, would you two shut the nine hells up, you aren’t as quiet as you think you are. It’s not even daylight. Gods.”

 Astarion collapses into silent giggles against Ori.

“Sorry, Gale,” she whisper-yells.

[hyunestrella]

★༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 . HAN JISUNG .

★༉ SUMMARY. Getting his favourite groupie pregnant wasn’t on his bingo card; falling in love with her was something he couldn’t imagine.

★༉ PAIRING. Han Jisung x Fem! Reader.

★༉ GENRE. i don’t know… angst?

— word count. 832 words.

— warnings. swearing, mild nsfw, implied member x member (binnie x felix), pregnancy, jisung is an asshole, smoking (tabacco), any more let me know!!!

— notes. 18+ to read.

— notes. i couldn’t finish this <///3 as much as i wanted to i wrote it probably back in november & it’s now august HAHAH i hope you like it regardless :3

— masterlist.

cigarette tucked tightly between his lips, brows furrowed in a angry frown jisung swung open the door that you had begun to pound on like your life depended on it. “what the fuck is your—?” he stopped mid sentence, cigarette tumbling onto the floor as his eyes roamed over your figure, taking in your appearance.

very often, jisung liked to take his groupies back to whatever hotel he was staying at to rid of the rest of the adrenaline from his shows that sped around his body. he’d never been with the same person twice, not wanting them to get the wrong idea; they were nothing but a quick fuck. except for you. you had plagued his mind, he couldn’t get enough of your body, the way you said his name — the way you got his dick so hard without even trying.

he took in your broken state, your teary eyes, cheeks stained black with eyeliner and mascara, your wobbly lips, your chest moving in a uneven rhythm trying to catch your breath and keep in your sobs. jisung felt his heart doing flips at the sight of you, begging him to reach out and keep you safe within his arms, he did the opposite though, leaning against the door frame, his muscles flexing forcing his tattoos to dance, blocking you from looking into his hotel room.

“the fuck you doing here?” his voice was low, rough not only from singing half of his band’s discography but from his grunts and groans when he was getting sucked off. you were taken aback at his harsh tone with you, he’d never spoken like that to you before, but you supposed that was because he just wanted to get in your pants. “how’d you know where i am?”

you rolled your eyes at his series of questions, feeling a new wave of emotions roll over you — right now you could do with an alcoholic drink, a smoke and a good fuck. “binnie told me.” you muttered, trying to push yourself into his room. he huffed at the name that came from your lips, changbin always had a soft spot for you, especially since he was so smitten with your cousin, felix. “i really need to talk to you ji—”

“hannie?” a feminine voice cut you off and you felt your eye twitch. jisung closed his eyes and breathed in, he felt his annoyance rise, this is not the way he thought his night was going to go. “are you coming back~?” her sultry voice flowed around the room, her stocking clad feet soft against the floor as she made her way towards the door. she wrapped herself around him, pressing kisses to his neck, smiling as jisung let out a groan. her smile turned into something sinister as she looked over at you and you felt your blunt nails digging into the palm of your hand.

“i’m going to fucking kill you.” at that jisung sprang into action, gently pushing the other woman off of him, his hand reaching out to grab hold of your wrist knowing you were likely serious. you struggled against him, trying to get your hands on the bitch that was responsible for your anger. though, you weren’t so sure why her previous actions had riled you up. it wasn’t like you and jisung were together, no you knew your place in his life.

you were knocked from your blinding rage when jisung muttered, “i think you should leave,” to the girl behind him. you blinked finding your body caged in by his arms, holding your tightly to his chest. you watched as she made a face, opening her mouth to protest but jisung was having none of it, “fuck off!” the girl eyed him before scoffing, moving into the room to grab her things before marching out of his hotel room.

when he was sure she was gone, he gently pushed you into the room, and closed the door letting out a soft sigh. he ran a hand through his already messed up hair, turning to find more tears in your eyes as you paced in the middle of the room. “y/n, the fucks your problem?” at that you stopped your movement, running your hand through your own hair, “first you barge in here and stop me from getting head, and now you’re acting fucking crazy.”

you reached into your bag, pulling out an object wrapped untidily with tissue and chucked it at him, hitting him in the cheat before it fell to the ground. “you’ve ruined my fucking life.” you spat, a hand tightly gripping your hair, and an arm wrapped around your stomach as you struggled to keep in your emotions.

jisung picked up the tissue, unwrapping it slowly as if he was afraid something was going to jump out at him. he looked up at you once more before opening everything completely, only to pause in shock at the sight of a positive pregnancy test.

★༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@liknws , @l3visbby , @hyunverse , @sunboki , @choiwonder , @nebulousbookshelf , @cosmic-railwayxo , @sunshinesquokka , @shakalakaboomboo , @viviixlyy , @thediaryofalover , @fxckingshame , @lovestayforever , @skz-streamer , @dollschan , @tsukkisdoll , @4ln-stay8 , @your-local-weeb16 , @queen-in-the-shadows

© @hyunestrella 2024.

[slafkovskys]

sometimes during the summer when it’s just angel and the boys, she’s cockwarming one of them and falls asleep like that

warnings: cockwarming

jack’s fresh back from the prix and she’s been extra clingy to him all day. she’s got her legs on either side of his thighs as his hand gently traces up and down her spine through the thin fabric of her nightie. they’re all watching a movie, her and jack on one end of the sofa, quinn on the other, and luke in the chair.

it was a quiet night. one of the few where they didn’t have any of their friends in and out and that decision had been made when everyone saw that jack was not going to be very far from her reach for the foreseeable future.

his hand stalls, palm laying flat at the base of her spine as he reaches for his phone. when he shifts, she feels the bulge in his sweatpants press against her bare center and she lets out a quiet whimper. he freezes as her fingers tentatively pull on his waistband, “angel?”

“please jacky,” she whispers, hoping quinn or luke wouldn’t hear. she didn’t care if they saw, that was something they long stopped caring about that summer, but right now she wanted it to just be there moment, “i just want a feel you.”

“yeah, take whatever you want,” and his permission was all she needed. she dips her hand below and wraps her hand around his cock, feeling it harden in her grasp. he lets out a string of quiet curses as she pumps him to complete hardness, pulling his sweatpants down just enough so she could seat herself comfortably. he groans as she rubs the tip through her dripping folds, “fuck, you were-”

“so long,” she mumbles before guiding him in. the intrusion is a welcome one and as soon as he’s buried to the hilt, they let out a sigh in unison. her cheeks burn as he hears quinn chuckling beside them, “quinny-”

“i didn’t say anything, angel. just take what you want from him,” the oldest encourages and she buries her face in jack’s neck at his words.

she moves her hips a couple of times and jack’s nails dig into her thighs, “look, we’re going to have to go upstairs if you keep doing that.”

“sorry,” she mumbled before pressing a kiss to his collarbone to go along with her apology. she turned her head to find quinn watching so intently and she reaches a hand out for him, which he takes, “love you.”

“we love you too, angel.”

and that’s how she dozed off moments later, one hand tangled in jack’s hair and the other tangled with quinn’s.

[eunseoksimp]

Sandstorm ; Hong Seunghan

Pairings: Bf!Seunghan x Gf!Reader

Genre: Angst, Break up

Warnings: toxic relationship, use of swear words, suggestive content and mention of sex. reader is extremely insecure and seunghan is low-key manipulative.

Description: The complexities of a tumultuous relationship between two people who love each other but struggle to see eye to eye. They attempt to compromise and reconcile but realise that with each other, they are like a violent sandstorm.

Based on Sandstorm by Mereba feat JID.

“we were low, we were high, jekyll, hyde”

‘all i’m asking you to do is trust me. for once.’

it wasn’t uncommon for you and seunghan to be arguing, only this time you thought it would be able to wait till after your 6 year anniversary dinner.

you loved hong seunghan, with every fibre of your being, but lord did he get under your skin.

the honeymoon phase of your relationship was bliss.

rarely would you argue, just eager to be wrapped up with the other, letting your bodies do the talking.

but that was years ago, a distant memory.

it wasn’t like you enjoyed fighting with seunghan, no you hated it actually.

you would feel like you were slowly losing your mind, being gaslit as you struggled to keep your words tame.

‘trust. you? how could i trust you when you let her rub all up on you,’ you were practically seething, nails digging into your palms as you desperately tried to hold your tongue.

‘oh come on. she wasn’t rubbing herself on me at all. you always do this baby.’

there it was.

seunghan had deep issues with establishing boundaries with other women.

at first you found it weird that he had a particularly high number of female friends, but you brushed it off due to his friendly nature.

you soon came to find out that this was all a mistake.

he was always adamant, ‘that girl was just trying to be friendly’, ‘i swear she’s a childhood friend, there’s no way she would have feelings for me.’

but you knew. you weren’t blind to the way these girls all looked at seunghan.

it was the same way you looked at him.

and he let them, often times even encouraging them and it caused you to go insane.

‘just drive and stop fucking talking,’ you could tell he wants to say more, but the look you give him gets him to shut up, and makes the drive back to your shared apartment relatively silent.

when you got back you practically flung open the front door, kicking off your shoes and heading to your kitchen to pull out a drink.

‘you shouldn’t drink when you’re mad,’ seunghan stood by the enterance, your shoes in his hand as he watches you.

‘maybe you should stop making me mad then,’ you retorted back, ditching the shot glass and raising the tequila bottle to your lips.

it burnt as it slid down your throat, but did nothing to quell the pit of fire in your chest, furious at your boyfriend.

‘that’s enough,’ you didn’t even notice when he was by your side, as he snatched the bottle from your hand, screwing the cap back on and placing it on top of the cupboards, out of reach.

‘give it back,’ you sounded like a spoilt child, folding your arms.

‘no turning to drinking when you’re upset. we’ve talked about this.’

the tone of his voice did something to rile you up as you stepped closer to him.

‘don’t talk to me like i’m a child,’ you poked his chest, knowing how much it annoyed it.

‘it’s getting kind of frustrating watching you blow up over nothing and taking it out on me,’ he spoke to gritted teeth and you scoffed.

‘nothing? so that girl didn’t try to slide you her number with the bill.’

he was silent, trying to come up with a rebuttal but you didn’t let him.

‘honestly i’m getting sick of seeing you let girl after girl do whatever they want with you. what kind of boyfriend are you?’

‘the kind that puts up with you. nobody on this planet would be able to put up with your bratty attitude,’ your face fell at his harsh words and he could tell he struck a nerve.

‘you know i didn’t mean that babe i’m sorry. i just wanted us to enjoy our anniversary and not fight,’ he felt bad watching you sniffle as you blinked back some tears.

‘i hate when you say stuff like that,’ you mumbled, playing with your fingers.

in an instance his arms were around you, and he bent down to place a kiss on your lips.

‘my sweet girl, forgive me?’

it was hard to say no when he said it like that, when his eyes bore into yours, his palm massaging the flesh of your hips.

you nodded, still honestly not over it, but you figured there would be no point in arguing about it tonight.

‘good girl. let me fuck that attitude out of you.’

you believed that those moments when you were under seunghan, his arms either side of your head, chain dangling over your face, were when your chemistry shone the most.

he would whisper sweet nothings, about how your pussy belonged to no one else but him, about how good you were taking him.

‘look at you angel. such a good fucking girl,’ he enunciated each word with thrusts, your whines only egging him on.

‘eyes. open,’ he would demand.

he told you that looking into your eyes, watching as you struggled to keep them open, how you could barely look at him as your mouth fell open was a sight he wanted to remember forever.

eye contact during sex was a big thing for him and was always enough to finally send him over the edge, hugging you close into his chest as he filled you up.

eventually you would forget about whatever argument you might have been having, letting him trace shapes on your bare shoulder, kissing every single mark on your body.

‘just fight the feeling, it’s all we do. Inside it’s killing me, baby.’

‘it happened again?’ yunjin asked, and you cowered under her sharp gaze, nodding.

‘i told you that boy was bad news bestie. constantly surrounded by women, you can’t think that was all a coincidence.

your best friend, yunjin, was not the biggest fan of your relationship.

she was there for the many nights you would break down in her arms, body shaking as you sobbed about how inadequate and unnatractive you felt.

she was always on the other end of the phone as you rambled on about the girls that would constantly throw themselves at your boyfriend, and moreover how he did virtually nothing to stop them.

‘girl..’ yunjin’s voice trailed off and you knew what she was going to say.

‘i’m not doing it yunjin. i can’t break up with him,’ you protested, violently shaking your head.

sure seunghan sometimes made you want to stick his head in a blender.

but he was yours, and you were his, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

these were the conflicting emotions that you both felt towards each other.

there was the want to fight your feelings, the mention of breaking up not foreign in your most heated arguments, but it would truthfully kill you both inside.

other people thought they were crazy, friends and family finding it hard to comprehend why they were both holding on to a relationship that caused so much pain, but you just couldn’t help yourselves.

‘yunjin is not your biggest fan right now,’ you teased seunghan later as you both sat at the table eating dinner, chatting about each others day.

‘i wish you would stop involving your friends in our problems,’ irritation was clear in his tone and you were suddenly in a not so playful mood.

your smile dropped and a scowl settled onto your face.

‘seriously hannie, i’m allowed to talk to my friends about my feelings. the same way you told sungchan when my whining was becoming too much for you,’ you were bringing up old situations, but your point still stood.

‘dont bring that up. i apologised for that already,’ he sighed, spoon now abandoned as he sat back.

‘all i’m doing is highlighting your hypocrisy,’ you always had something to say, always had to have the last say and seunghan was growing tired of it.

‘sure, forget i even said anything. are you done?’ he stood up, changing the topic as he planned to escape to the kitchen, using washing the dishes as an excuse.

‘walking away because you know you’re in the wrong. sounds like some shit you would do,’ he paused in his tracks placing the plates down on the counter top.

‘it’s always one thing or the other with you. if it’s not a girl, it’s my actions,’ he mumbled, but of course you still heard him.

‘maybe if you stopped doing things that would make me upset then we would not be having these issues.’

‘here we go. is it my fault that your ex cheated on you, why do i have to shoulder all of your frustrations,’ his voice rose a little, something he only did when he was really mad, but he had managed to really piss you off.

‘fuck you hong seunghan,’ you stormed off into your shared bedroom, slamming the door and only reopening it to throw out a pillow and some blankets.

‘i don’t think i’ll be able to sleep next to you without strangling you. take the couch,’ and then the door was shut again.

in the recent year, he had become accustomed to finding refuge on their couch, seeing as you were kicking him out of your room more and more.

he was past the phase of shouting at you to stop being ridiculous, or standing outside of the door demanding to be let back in.

there was just no point.

so he continued what he was doing, washing plates, wiping the stove clean, re arranging the glass cups.

he grabbed a granola bar and some juice from the fridge before settling on the couch, turning on the tv, flicking through channels for something to watch.

this lasted for about three days, neither of you speaking to the other.

he would leave breakfast out for you before going his own way, folding your laundry and leaving it outside the door.

you would make sure to make dinner when you got home first, both of you on opposite sides of the couch as you ate in silence.

you would notice him struggling to moisturise his back and be behind him in no time, reaching the spots he couldn’t.

all of these things were done without any words, and only worked because you knew each other so well.

six years being in a relationship, seunghan knew your body language like the back of his hand, and the same was said for you.

if you let out a little huff whilst trying to reach a bowl from the top shelf you would instantly see the extra arm extending above your head to help you.

after a meal you would rub small circles on your stomach and he would already be in the kitchen, water boiling as he got out the bags for your green tea.

when it got to saturday, one of the only days in the week where you would both be in the house, you realised how much you missed him.

the birds were chirping, the gentle lull of the music playing from your speaker as you leaned on the counter, tapping your foot as you waited for the hot water.

seunghan comes up behind you, head resting on your shoulder as his arms come around your waist.

you stay in this embrace, taking in each others air as you swayed from side to side in a soft rhythm.

it was moments like this, something so domestic , no words needed, just pure displays of affection.

he would kiss the top of your head, lifting you to sit on the top of their counter top as he picked up where you left off.

you watched your boyfriend with adoration in your eyes as he reached for your favourite mug, making tea just the way you like it.

‘it’s hot,’ he warned you as he saw how eager you were to bring the cup up to your lips.

‘so are you,’ you joked, really just missing the sound of his voice.

all feelings of disdain melted away once you heard the sound of his deep, hearty laugh, and the way his eyes would dissapear as he smiled widely.

gesturing for him to come closer, you waited till he was in between your legs, hands on your thighs, before you latched your arms around his neck.

he gave you a quick peck on the lips, just missing the feeling of your skin under his fingertips.

‘i love you,’ you mumbled, heart thumping as he his hands now come around your bare waist.

‘i love you too, my angel.’

and just like that it would feel like you were both on cloud nine, spending the entire day by each others side.

you would watch different rom coms, making fun of the dumb female lead and the cringy male lead, seunghan sometimes trying to imitate them.

you throw your head back in laughter, clutching at his hoodie sleeve to get him to stop, gasping for air.

when you told him you were craving pasta he was quick to jump to his feet.

‘chef seunghan to the rescue,’ he grinned as he scurried to the kitchen, making a big show out of everything.

you got your phone out, recording every step as he would exaggerate the way he cut up his ingredients, or go on about his imaginary culinary expertise.

‘you know this all reminds me of the summer of ‘07. most of our chefs had retired for the night and i was supposed to follow,’ he had began his ministrations.

‘ but then, a lovely old italian couple comes bursting through the door. i need the greatest pasta one could ever taste he basically demanded.’

‘the only experience i had back then was the ratatouille movie but you know what, i had faith from the crew i would deliver. and deliver i did.’

you could no longer contain your giggles, bursting into hysterical laughter as you practically rolled around on the floor.

‘haters ‘gon hate. you wish you were as amazing as me,’ he flicked his imaginary hair over his shoulder.

‘it smells like the pesto is burning, chef seunghan.’

‘oh shit.’

telling you his fake stories had taken away all of his attention, and he soon forgot about what he had originally set out to do.

so even though the sauce was charred, you still ate with gusto. all because seunghan had made it.

‘can i just say you would make an excellent housewife. look at you washing those dishes,’ you said, a teasing glint in your eye.

seunghan gasped, before splashing water in your direction, the sound of your squeals like music to his ears as you tried to shield yourself.

‘stop, i’m sorry. fine you win, no malewife for me,’ you push him away, saying the last part as if you were actually mad.

you both often joked about seunghan’s passion for cooking and cleaning being the perfect formula for a traditional wife.

you would tease him about retiring him so he would sit at home looking pretty as he cared for your kids.

his eyes narrow, a hand snaking around your waist as he tugs into his chest.

you press yourself closer to him, his scent now in your orbit as you nuzzle into his sweatshirt, enjoying his scent.

‘this is nice, i wish we could stay like this forever,’ he murmurs, heart fluttering as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you just a little tighter.

‘come sleep with me tonight?’ you lifted your head from his chest to ask and he grinned, kissing you again.

‘i want to kiss you. properly,’ seunghan confessed.

"then why won't you?"

"the problem is..," he leaned in as he spoke to you.

"if i kissed you i don't think i'd be able to stop."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he paused and beamed at you, and then he smothered you in kisses.

on the mouth, your cheeks, neck, telling you over and over again that he loved you as you laughed and clutched him.

every time he said it, you felt the words wrap fill her up.

they wrapped themselves around you, providing comfort, making you feel safe and cherished, pushing out any doubt.

he said it like he meant it.

he said it as if it was common knowledge, a fact that had been proven by scientists before.

seunghan loved you.

and you loved him back.

just two souls full of love, unable to depart from each other.

but as was always said, there was a thin line between love and hate.

you had only lasted two weeks before your next explosive argument.

‘but then i remember that you got a temper and i got no filter.’

‘you’re blowing this out of proportion,’ seunghan calls after you as you find yourself once again angry in your house.

what should have been a fun night for the both of you had quickly turned into grounds for yet another argument.

‘blowing what out of proportion? did she or did she not kiss you?’ your nostrils flared and your head felt hot.

anger surged through your veins and you couldn’t control your temper.

‘would you just listen to me. you know i would never do that to you, it just-‘

‘do i want to hear yet another excuse from you hannie? it’s always poor me i had no idea that the attractive girl i’m flirting with would take it the wrong way,’ you cut him off, a trait of yours he didn’t like.

‘i was not flirting. honestly can we act like adults. please,’ he pleads, but it only makes you want to be more childish.

‘i should say the same thing mr i couldn’t say no to her.’

‘here we go again,’ he massaged his temples, the stress starting to weigh on him.

‘yes here we go again. is setting boundaries so fucking hard for you.’

‘language,’ he speaks curtly, reminding you of how much he hated when you used harsh language against him.

‘don’t tell me how to speak. answer my fucking questions hong seunghan.’

‘i did set boundaries what do you mean? i very clearly pushed her away and told her to never try that again,’ he was exasperated, unable to understand how someone else’s wrongdoing was his fault.

‘great fucking job. setting the boundary after she already tried to stick her tongue down your throat,’ your tone was dripping with sarcasm, and you even started slow clapping.

‘be honest, you wanted to fuck her didn’t you?’

‘for god’s sake. can you stop,’ he was reaching breaking point, exhibiting great restraint so that he didn’t say anything he would regret.

‘that’s what this is about, isn’t it? you must have been having a field day, she was even wearing a cute little red dress, your favourite colour,�� you went on, your insecurities catching up to you once again.

when things like this occurred it served as a constant reminder that your boyfriend was attractive and that many girls would be willing to be in your place.

your track record with guys was not the best, one cheating on you with a close friend, the other a cousin.

you had a long history of being let down and heartbroken by men.

there was always a nagging voice in your mind that it was only a matter of time before seunghan followed suit.

‘i can’t do this anymore,’ he ran his hand through his hair, his body leaning on the kitchen counter.

‘ah so you can go back to minjeong. please don’t let me stop you from achieving your fantasies,’ you picked up your bag, searching for your own car keys, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the hot tears streaming down your face.

‘here you go, running away from your problems instead of facing them. we can’t keep doing this you know.’

‘then maybe we shouldn’t anymore ,’ your words shocked him and he froze on the spot.

‘find a girl who isn’t as shitty and insecure as me, and maybe i might find one man that doesn’t feel like cheating on me,’ you chuckled bitterly, looking like a mad woman with one shoe on, the other in hand.

his chest was heaving at this point, his ears red hot as he waited for your next move.

‘do you really mean it,’ he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes started getting glossy.

shrugging you slipped the second shoe on and grabbed your jacket, leaving an emotional seunghan behind.

‘so we’re like a sandstorm, when we get to blows.’

this was the nature of your arguments.

like a sandstorm they were intense, and volatile, like the blowing winds of conflict that brought about the chaos and the inability to find solace or resolution in each others actions.

emotional turbulence consumed both parties as they clashed.

they carried the pain of failed attempts to reconcile, living with the consequences that arose from playing with the dynamics of their volatile relationship.

underneath all of the bravado and spiteful words, lay a desire to maintain composure and restore harmony in the relationship.

as much as it didn’t seem like it, you hated it when you fought.

but there was great difficulty in achieving peace, your arguments normally escalating quickly and dangerously, leaning wreckage in your wake.

only this time you weren’t sure your relationship would stand the test of time.

deciding it was best to hear the opinions of someone you trusted, you headed towards a bar that you frequented, looking for its owner, your close friend.

‘it’s not normal to fight this much,’ shotaro, your greatest confidant let you know, patting the top of your hand.

you knew that. that the amount of times you would have your disputes, seunghan with his temper and you without a filter, it wasn’t healthy.

it was beginning to become a cycle, a few days of peace before the storm would come and shake the both of you up.

‘what do i do,’ you sighed, exhausted and hurt.

‘you know what you need to do.’

with shotaro’s words buried at the forefront of your heart, you returned back to your home.

the lights were off, the glow from the television screen illuminating your boyfriends eyes.

you both looked at one another, at the same stage of fatigue as you shrugged your coat off and found refuge in each other.

not another word was said that night, but the silence filled in for their lack of conversation.

and you spent the next two weeks like this.

hollow, lifeless versions of yourselves.

whenever a problem would arise he could see you using all of your strength to hold your tongue, turning the other way.

intimacy just wasn’t the same anymore, the both of you seemingly having a lot to think about.

there was no more laughter, or joking around with each other.

the light drained from your eyes, and you had to wonder if this was what life was meant to be like.

so tired of fighting that you lose your voices, instead trying to pretend like everything is alright.

you started to leave the house more, needing an escape from this prison that had been created in the place you used to call home.

seunghan would often have to come and pick you up, you letting out all your grievances by drowning your sorrows in alcohol, like you always did.

his arms would wrap around your waist, guiding you into your bedroom.

he would patiently hold your hair back as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

he would sit on the edge of the bathtub, using one hand to hold you up as you soaked in the bubble bath.

when he would dry you up, sleep fast approaching your spent body, you would mumble some words.

it would always be about him; ‘i hate the way she looked at you, ‘i wish you didn’t go and meet up with her yesterday i know she likes you.’

but the words uttered from your mouth last night made him freeze, a chill running down his spine as his worst fear came true.

‘i don’t think i know how to love you anymore.’

it was obvious that neither of you were happy, but as selfish as it was, seunghan couldn’t imagine a life without you.

he met you at the start of adulthood, and now that he was nearing the end of his twenties, he couldn't see himself trying again with anyone else.

so he acted like you hadn’t said anything, the dull ache in his chest starting to become a part of him.

but try as he might, he just couldn’t forget it.

they said that drink words were sober thoughts, that the possibility that you didn’t mean it was low.

even at work now, it circulated in his mind, occupying every crevice of his brain.

head in his hands, he struggled to focus on the presentation due in a couple of hours, his screen stuck on the same page.

he felt his phone buzz, and in his dream like state, he viewed the message.

we need to talk. come home my love.

he leapt out of his seat, listing off some type of excuse for why he had to leave the office early as he practically sprinted down the company stairs and to the car park.

he was sure he had ran a couple of lights but he didn’t care.

his heart was thumping, chewing on his lip as the worst case scenario continued to play in his head.

when he entered your home, making his way to the living room he saw you in a similar state.

‘why were there so many suitcases?’ bile rose to his throat and he almost wanted to turn away, avoid the inevitable.

as he stood planted in his spot, you lifted your head.

offering him a weak smile, he could see how red your eyes were, your nose a similar shade and his stomach turned violently.

‘i’ll do better. i promise baby please,’ in an instant he was at your feet, clutching you like he was scared you would dissapear.

‘seunghan-‘

‘i know, you must have been so frustrated. it can’t have been easy, i just need to- i need to be better, i’ll do whatever you want,’ tears were starting to fall, splashing onto your jeans.

‘i love you, i love you so much. loving you is the only thing i need.’

biting your lip to prevent yourself from crying too, you lifted his head from your leg.

as hard as it was, you knew that the both of you couldn’t continue on like this.

‘take a piece of my love, we’ve been through enough stuff, probably need to grow up and away.’

‘my sweet boy,’ you used your thumb to swipe his tears, an intense amount of adoration and tenderness displayed on your features.

the tone of your voice, how soft it was as you cupped his face in your hand, it only made him more devastated.

‘these mirrors know our secrets. they’ve witnessed our wild, our highs spent riding the wind. and they watched as all the storms started circling our dunes. if they could speak, their voices just might crack and shake and shatter the glass into fragments.’

‘we’ve been through enough stuff, now we need to grow up and away,’ your shoulders dropped in resignation, struggling to let out what you wanted to say.

‘we can’t try one more time?’ he was defeated, desperate for a lifeline, something that would convince you to stay.

‘i don’t like the people we’re becoming,’ you whispered.

‘i was scared. that one day the hatred would overpower my love for you. that one day you’ll no longer make my heart swell, but burn with rage.’

it hurt, because they both knew it was true.

it was glaringly obvious that there was a need for the both of them to move forward, away from their now toxic situation and find peace.

they had both been through enough turmoil and the sentiment that it was time for the both of them to separate for their own sakes was shared.

‘i want to protect the love that we shared. i don’t want all of those fond memories to go to waste,’ you caressed his face, soaking him all on as if it would be the last time to do.

seunghan, although anguished, knew that what she was saying was right.

six years of being together, he didn’t want those good years to be marred by bitterness, to be trampled over.

‘i love you hong seunghan, enough to let you go.’

‘i love you, more than you would ever comprehend,’ till their final moments he was sure she still wouldn’t.

so even though it tore his heart into pieces, he let the love of his life press one last kiss on his cheek, before leaving, not one look back.

even though you didn’t make it to the end of his story, he will always have the corner folded down on your pages, because it was his favourite.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

“Do you love him?” The question would play in her mind while holding her husband’s hand.

“Do you love him?” It would plague her thoughts while weakly smiling at him when he “gifted” her yet another piece of land she had no use for.

“Do you love him?” She would ask herself while making love to him, mumbling his name in the throes of passion.

“Do you love him?” When she would catch him picking up their baby, smiling down at him.

“Do you love him?” When crimes against females in the Hewn City escalated to inconceivable heights, and she begged him to let her try to help until he finally gave in.

“Do you love him?” When he yet again disrespected her sisters, and she had to try to talk some sense into him.

“Do you love him?” When she caught herself getting swayed by his words again.

Do you love him?

________________

“I went to Spring” She blurted out in the middle of their quiet dinner.

Rhys’ temper was usually controlled and calculated. Usually.

He dropped the silver fork onto the plate and the sound echoed through the empty halls of their home, violently breaking the sepulchral silence of their too big of a mansion. Even bigger and lonelier now that Elain had left.

His violet eyes studied her, other than the small tick on his perfect eyebrows, his face gave nothing away.

He picked up his glass of wine and looked at it before taking a sip. Feyre had decided to tell him, not because she felt guilty, even though she did, but because she wanted things to be better. She was tired of living a half life, she was tired of hearing the same old thing.

“All I do is for you and our son”

“I already told you why I made the decisions I made, do you think I’m a monster? Is that it?”

“What else do I have to give so that you finally see all I do is because I love you?”

She realized with no little amount of dread, that if she wanted him to finally speak frankly to her, then she would also have to do that. She would tell him, show him through her mind if she had to, but for the love of all that was right, she needed him to talk to her like she was a person, like he actually respected her.

She placed her fork and knife on the table, raised her napkin to her mouth, then took her glass of wine, one of the best wines in the Night Court, and drank. All the while Rhys’ eyes were fixed on her, no words coming from him still.

“Well?” He finally asked. “What could you possibly have to do in the Spring Court, may I ask?”

“I went to see Tamlin” She said as a matter of fact.

Rhys gave a short laugh, his eyes roving her face like a cat fixed on its prey. “Is this a pattern for you, Feyre darling? Did my time with you run out so you need to go back to the spare? Send me a raven when his time is up again so I can pick you up” He threw the napkin he had on his lap and stood up from the table, death and shadows emanating from him, engulfing him as he began to leave.

“I did not go there for that” She stood as well. He swirled and began striding towards her.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. I went there because I needed answers. Answers you were not giving me” She stood tall as he reached her, cold darkness engulfing her, daring her to succumb to him. She refused.

“How cute. Did you get your blessed answers from the Spring imbecile? Did he satisfy you, my love?” His eyes were vicious, almost feral. She had seen Rhys mad before, but never like this.

“He was honest with me” She said, not flinching at his dark energy.

“Oh?” He cocked his head, eyes digging into hers. “Is that a way of suggesting I haven’t been?” Already she felt the strain of trying to read him, the mental labour of having to analyze everything he said, to be on the lookout for hidden ways he could be trying to sway her.

“You know you haven’t Rhys” She fisted her hands, nails digging into the pads of her palm painfully. “Stop treating me like I’m stupid” She felt her jaw tremble slightly.

“When have I treated you like that, Feyre?” He snapped. “When I made you High Lady?” A sneer appeared on his face. “When I trusted you with the wellbeing of my court?”

“You’re doing it again!” She raged. “Stop shoving that on my face. I did not ask to be High Lady! I did not ask for any of this!”

“Oh but you did. You begged me to save you, you were so grateful when I did, you thrived in your power. Now you resent me for giving you what you asked for?”

“You- you made me want these things” She said more weakly. She had thought about this, why did it sound stupid coming out of her mouth now?

“I did no such thing” He lowered his voice. “You’re not stupid, Feyre. You know I did no such thing” He ran his hands through his short hair.

“Why did you go to him?” He looked at her now, devastation in his eyes. She felt the unstoppable urge to reassure him, to promise him it wasn’t what he thought it was. Something in her gut stopped her.

“I just needed to hear him out” She conceded.

“Why?” He asked again. “Is this life not enough for you?” He craddled her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. She saw her mate, the sadness and despair in his eyes, but somehow something was missing. “Am I not enough? Are we not enough?” He looked up for a second, towards the baby sleeping in his room.

“Why didn’t you give me the choice, Rhys?” She felt the tears forming around her eyes.

“I always gave you-“

“You didn’t tell me I would die” She choked.

He let go of her and turned to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This again, Feyre. We already discussed this to exhaustion”

“You never told me the truth” She was full on crying, arms around herself, shaking.

“What truth? What truth do you want? Huh?” He turned to her again. “Do you think I wanted you dead?”

“You wanted the child more than anything” She said. “I could have shifted but you didn’t give me the choice!”

“If you are not remembering correctly, I would have died with you! How would I want that?”

“It isn’t beyond you to put yourself at risk over your own objectives” She snapped. Something in his eyes shifted.

“Is that what you think of me?” He frowned, looking at her like she was a monster he had never noticed before. “Is that why you ran away to Spring in the middle of the night the first chance you had?”

His eyes were set on her, knowing.

That was it, in his eyes she had seen his sadness, his anger, his despair. Only one thing had been missing—surprise, shock. Looking at him then, the realization hit her like a slap in the face.

“You knew” She said softly, almost to herself. There was a flicker in his star flecked eyes. “You knew” she repeated, more strongly.

And just like that, Rhys’ whole expression changed in a second, a cold gaze falling on its place, one she had only seen directed at members of the Court of Nightmares, the one he had called his mask. She felt a chill run up her spine.

“I did” He admitted.

“H-how?” She stuttered.

“Azriel followed you that night, to his cottage” He glanced at his arm, picking at a speck of dust on his otherwise impeccable suit. “I had him watch you, since you weren’t trusting me inside your mind anymore”

She was so shocked she couldn’t even cry anymore. She only stared at him, agape.

He sighed. “You wanted me to speak frankly, didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” She found herself asking.

“There was nothing to be done, my darling” He frowned his brows slightly. “All you needed was a bit more work to distract you from your escapades, since our own child wouldn’t do it”

Another blow to her world. “The Hewn City crimes” She snapped her eyes back towards him in disgust.

“Now before you jump to conclusions, no, I didn’t somehow orchestrate the crimes just for my lovely wife to have something to fixate on instead of galavanting in an enemy court with her ex” He looked down his nose at her. He smiled at her, a demonic smile. “The crimes are a natural occurrence I just made you aware of them”

She searched his face, but could not find the male she thought she loved anywhere.

“Who are you?” She croaked.

“I’m your mate, I’m your equal”

“We are nothing alike” Her fists trembled.

“Oh, but we are, Feyre darling” He placed his finger on her chin and lifted her face. “Go, run to your ruined golden prince, tell him all the oh-so-awful things your evil mate has ever done to you, then come back to me and keep on enjoying the grand life I gave you”

“I will leave you” Her voice cracked.

“Be my guest” He said, a cold energy emanated from him, blasting the door of the mansion open. Her breath trembled.

He stared at her, waiting. Waiting for something they both knew would not come.

“You won’t” He said so softly, so confidently. “Stop deluding yourself thinking you had no part in the consequences of your life. You chose me” He said sharply, his cold breath hitting her face harshly. “You knew who I was, you always knew. You love me. I gave you everything” His fingers dug onto her chin, violet eyes still pinned on hers, as if trying to get inside her mind and control her thoughts. She wondered now if he had ever dared to do that.

With a sickening, oily feeling, she realized he was right. He had given her everything, while destroying everything she had been, reducing her to this adherence to his life, his world.

“Do you love me?” She asked him at last, silent tears streaming down her face.

His face was impassive for a moment, staring at her. He breathed a soft laugh through his nose.

“Did you ask him the same question?” He let go of her face.

“Answer me”

“He probably said he does, didn’t he?” He laughed humorlessly. “Of course that pathetic fuck would still be crawling for you, even after you dragged him through the mud”

“Answer the fucking question Rhys!” She felt the fire inside of her roar, the flames on the candles and chimneys lifting as she shouted at him.

“Of course I love you, is it not fucking obvious, Feyre?” He roared back. “You wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t!”

The room was quiet except for their raging breaths. Rhysand had finally showed her what he truly was, she had wanted him to, so why did she feel even more trapped and lonely than before?

“You’re right I won’t leave you” She swiped her wet cheeks, in an attempt to regain the last scraps of dignity she had left. “I won’t ever leave you” She slumped her shoulders.

“No, you won’t” He said, sounding defeated as well.

She left him standing there that night, feeling how her whole world crumbled beneath her feet. She spent the next weeks crying herself to sleep, until she didn’t have any more crying inside of her. She let him hold her still, even if part of her could not stand it, she needed the comfort.

So she stayed, and she faced her reality, and she accepted it. Accepted him and his cruel love. He was right, they were mates, they were equal, even if she didn’t feel it most of the time. It was all she had left, even if a small part of her still wanted her to fight, to riot. She focused on the good.

On the feel of his hand when she held it.

On the heat of his touch when he pleasured her.

On the work that he had allowed her to lose herself in.

On the sound of her baby’s laugh when he held him.

On the warmth of the family she had chosen.

She told herself it was enough until it was.

She did not go to Spring again.

———————————-

Read the previous parts on AO3

[impala-dreamer]

Underneath It All

~Jensen's grown out his beard, hair, muscles for The Boys, and Y/N has some issues with all the extra hair. Luckily, together, they find a new kink that neither knew he had...~

Jensen x Reader

1,353 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Hair Pulling. Bearded Jensen. Oh my... the beard. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

“Jesus- it’s so big!”

“You love it, you know you do…”

“I don’t know what to do with it!”

“Just let it happen, baby… let it happen… I’ll go easy on you.”

Y/N cringed as Jensen dove in for another kiss, his newly-giant beard caressing her face like a thousand tiny tentacles, and not in a good way. “I can’t!” She shoved at his shoulders less than playfully, and an exaggerated frown took up residence beneath the bushy beard.

“Come on,” he pouted, sitting back on his knees, “I haven’t seen you in weeks.” His big left hand slid slowly down her bare thigh and his right ran up his own. “Little Dean misses you…”

Just before his fingers could sneak past the border of her panties, Y/N swatted him away. “I’ve asked you not to call it that,” she laughed, shaking her head.

His plump lips twisted into a half pucker. “Well, it’s true.”

She sat up, palm reaching forward to cup his balls through the pale blue boxers. “I’ve missed it too...” Her eyes lifted upwards, trailing hungrily over his smooth, tanned flesh. He’d used his Toronto quarantine to bulk up a bit, putting on more muscle than she’d seen in forever. His abs were appearing again, his chest popped beautifully, and his arms… She could cum from just dreaming about those big arms. Unfortunately, Y/N neglected to stop her gaze from reaching the beard and even though it was soft and well groomed, she couldn’t stand it. “But… no.”

Dejected and a little embarrassed, Jensen sighed heavily and rolled back onto his ass, turning slightly away, his long legs swinging over the side of the bed. “Well- shit.”

Y/N reached for him, grabbing up the hand he let drop down onto his thigh. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just not used to all the… It’s a lot.”

With his free hand, Jensen tugged on his new chin covering. “I fuckin’ hate this. Can’t wait to shave again.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” she chuckled, sitting up to scoot closer. “It’s not bad… just a bit… much.”

“It’s horrible,” he snit; shoulders drooping. He let his beard go and raked a hand through his hair. It, too, was incredibly long, curling around his ears and hanging down to his shoulders. “I look like a yeti.” He tugged at the long locks at the nape of his neck. “Gonna cut this too. Maybe Eric’ll let me shave it all off.”

A gasp left Y/N’s lips and she shook her head quickly. “Don’t you dare!”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna. Gonna Bic it all off.”

“I’ll divorce you.”

A tiny smirk lit beneath the beard. “Thought you hated it. Won’t even let me kiss you.”

Y/N flipped over, crawling on her knees until she was behind him. She ran her hands down through his hair, enjoying the thick softness. “The beard- yes. But this…” She gave him a gentle tug and Jensen moaned. “This is beautiful. Never seen you with it so long.”

He closed his eyes as she pulled his hair again, front teeth digging down into his bottom lip as another moan escaped. “Mmm. Yeah?”

She swept the curtain back to clear a space on his neck for a kiss. “Oh, yes,” she whispered as her fingers ran through it. “It’s beautiful.”

His head rolled to the side as her lips danced on his throat. Her nails scratched against his scalp and Jensen’s stomach tensed as a wave of pleasure spread through him. “It’s not bad,” he breathed, pulse beginning to race. “I just don’t look like me. Don’t feel like… myself.”

Loving arms wrapped around his chest and Y/N pressed herself up against him. “Jen, you’re amazing and so fucking hot.” She kissed his cheek, let her hand slide gently down his stomach.

“Even with this ferret stapled to my face?”

Her fingers grazed across his covered cock. “Even with the ferret, yes.” Another kiss landed below his ear, another hand pushed through his hair. “Still fucking sexy as hell underneath it all.”

His breath came out in a husky groan as her fingers tangled in his hair. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” She pulled his hair hard and his cock jerked beneath her hand.

He grit his teeth, cheeks flushing hot beneath all the hair. “Fuck.”

“Look at yourself,” she urged, right hand slipping into the pocket of his boxers to trace his shaft. “Look in the mirror, Jensen…”

Green eyes lifted to their twins in the mirror across the way. Jensen shivered as Y/N yanked on his hair and wrapped her fingers around the head of his cock, slowly stroking.

“See?” She ran her thumb over his slit. “Gorgeous.”

His hips jumped upwards, forcing his cock through the tight ring of her hand. “Yeah…”

She kissed his collarbone, bit down when she wanted more, loving the look of lust that clouded his eyes in the mirror. “You’re amazing.” Her hand tightened in his hair and his head fell back to rest on her shoulder.

“Fuck, baby…”

“Just relax,” she teased, picking up her pace, feeling the blood pulse through his erection. They watched together as his body reacted to her touch: the muscles in his torso flexing, his thighs shaking subtly, the ropes in his stretched throat throbbing. His breath was fast, his lips wet and ruddy.

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum,” he hissed, eyes rolling back to white as Y/N gave his hair another good yank. “Fuck!”

“Go on then,” she whispered, lips on his ear, tongue tracing the shell. “I wanna see it…”

Jensen leaned back against her and lifted his hips, strong body working with her as she pumped him faster. “Yeah… fuck. Like that. Come on.” He froze in her arms as he came, holding his breath as he shot a hot load into her palm. “Fuck!”

Y/N kissed his neck as everything relaxed, smoothed the hair out of his eyes, slowly pulled her hand from his shorts. “That was fun,” she grinned, winking at the yeti in the mirror.

Jensen exhaled heavily and sat up, eyes unfocused and happy as he nodded in agreement. “Hell yeah, it was.”

Cupping her hand, Y/N jumped up from the bed, heading for the adjoining bathroom. Jensen grabbed her wrist before she could escape, spinning her back around and down into his lap.

“What are you doing?” she laughed, wary of the handful of spunk precariously held in her fist.

He leaned close, beard once more tickling her chin. “Just saying thank you,” he said, easily reaching her lips before she could push away. His kiss was tender and wet, and Y/N let herself give in for just a moment.

“Mmm.”

“See, the beard ain’t so bad,” he joked, nuzzling her nose with his.

Chin hair snuck into her mouth and Y/N gagged, finally pushing him away. “Yeah, it is!” Hopping up, she made it to the bathroom and Jensen heard the tap turn on.

“You’re really serious? You’re gonna just- not let me touch you till this is gone?”

Y/N looked back, drying her hand on the towel hanging behind the door. “Uh… no one said you’re not going to touch me.” She emerged, a slick smile upon her lips. “You’re just gonna have to figure out how to do it without the beard touching me.”

He laughed and scratched at his cheek. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

Bending over, Y/N dragged her tiny panties from her hips and Jensen sucked in a deep, excited breath.

“Well, you better figure it out, stud,” she said, crawling back into bed and spreading her knees wide. “Because it’s my turn...”

Jensen sucked his teeth as he thought for a moment and then pounced, falling down onto her with a wink and a sexy smile. “I guess I better get to it then.”

She hummed and wrapped a hand around the back of his shaggy head, pulling him down for a kiss. “Love you, baby,” she whispered. “Beard and all.”

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Reblog to save a writer's sanity

[natrogersfics]

The Anthology - Chapter 8: The Tortured Poets Department

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3

He’s a goddamn idiot.

He has to be. It’s the only logical explanation Natasha could come up with as she makes her way into her kitchen, setting her mug down on the counter before turning to the man whose sensibilities she’s seriously beginning to question.

Before her, Steve leans against the doorway, regarding her expectantly. “Natasha, did you hear me?”

She did. Loud and clear. But it really isn’t her hearing that’s causing her words to fail her at the moment. It’s her disbelief. Her disbelief at the fact that he had shown up at her door, heart in hand, oh so eagerly announcing his plans to throw his entire life upside down as though the last few weeks didn’t happen. As though he had already forgotten, foolishly, the ruckus he had to weave himself through as he walked out the front door of her rental this morning with every photographer happily pointing out the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes from when they’d left the wrap party. It’s as though he’s even forgotten that there’s currently an online fire storm brewing and slowly tanking his reputation – all because he had dared to take her home last night.  

He may have forgotten, but she hasn’t.

Perhaps she should be happy. Elated even. Albeit only in the darkest recesses of her mind, this is what she had found herself hoping he would do as they both laid sprawled out on her couch mere hours ago, her head on his chest as she listened to each beat of his heart. Instead, she finds herself reeling. Hard.  

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” she finally says, digging her nails into the insides of her palms.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. “Nat-”

“It’s career suicide, Steve!” she says, watching as that combatant expression of his that she knows all too well makes its way across his face. His lips part as if to respond, but she beats him to it. “And for what?”

“For us,” he says without missing a beat, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She scoffs. “Do you not remember-”

“I remember everything, Nat,” he interjects this time, his words causing her to press her lips into a line. “Believe me, I’ve seen the show.” He pushes off the doorway, making his way to her. “Which is why I know that when you go out and act like what we had didn’t mean a thing to you or that us avoiding each other isn’t tearing you apart on the inside too, that’s all it is. A show.” He stops just before her, his eyes somehow managing to look even more breathtaking in the dim light of her kitchen. “So you can keep putting it on… but just know that I’ll be here, sitting through it. Again and again.”

She searches his eyes, though she’s not even certain what for. A sign, maybe. Or even some hint of a warning that his words are only half-hearted. But the only thing she can see is his irrefutable resolve, the intensity of which knocks the breath right out of her. “Why?”

“Because you’ve done nearly everything to push me away…” he says, and whether the little gasp that falls from her lips is from the gravity of his words or the sparks that run across her skin as he slowly reaches for her, taking her hand in his to intertwine their fingers, she isn’t quite sure. “The one thing you haven’t done is say that you don’t love me.”

His gaze implores her to tell him he’s wrong, to rebuff his claims and pull away from his touch. Only, she can’t. And they both know it. “Steve…”   

“Natasha, I love you,” he says – declares, really, with how steadfast his tone is. And if there’s any room left for ambiguity, he erases it as he adds, “All I want is you. And I don’t care what it costs.” He shakes his head. “I don’t care if they never let me pick up the shield again. Or if people fire off one hot take after another about us on the internet for the rest of their sorry, miserable lives. None of that matters to me.” He sighs, bringing a hand up to cup her face. “And if none of that matters to you, either… Then all I need to know is, do you love me, too?”

“I do,” she says, her response spilling out of her as if on their own accord. “So much.”

His lips quirk into the smallest of smiles as he brushes his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Then be with me.”

Her eyes screw shut at his invitation. The irony isn’t lost on her. Here he is, talking about putting down the shield so they could be together, but it’s as though with her silence, she’s the one proverbially keeping it up to place some self-imposed distance between them. When she had walked out on him that night, she had told herself that she was doing it for him, to protect him not only from the pandemonium that came with her life, but also, and perhaps more importantly, from her. But those points are all moot now, it seems. She's tried every trick in her book to scare him away, and while it had worked temporarily, by his own admission, he had come to figure it out. And now, nothing about what he's seen fazes him any longer.

It's then that it finally dawns on her. The reasons she had been using to justify pushing him away were only ever partial truths. She may have trained herself to let the words of others roll right off her back and to accept that their loyalty to her may only ever be transactional, but the fact of the matter is he’s not just anyone. He’s the one – the only one – who has recognized that she's been putting up a façade all this time, the only one who has dared to ask and find out what’s behind it. As much as the idea terrifies her, he is under her skin now, and if he were to walk away, if he were to somehow change his mind, she knows with prolific certainty that there’s nothing in the arsenal she’s been building over the years that could save her from the magnitude of that hurt. 

He could well and truly really break her. And yet, she finds that with every fiber of her being, she still longs to say yes to him. To tell him that what they have is strong enough to withstand any and all of the noise that comes their way. That she’s ready to take this leap. But before she can, it’s clear to her that if they’re to have any chance at all, there could be no more hiding. She’s going to have to show him everything she’s been keeping in – the good, the bad, and the absolute wreckage that includes that tiny voice in her head, spurred on by the memories of her past and the pieces of her that never quite fully healed, that aches for reassurance.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers as she opens her eyes. Not like they have, she wants to add. Not like I’ve allowed them to. 

“I won’t,” he says, and whether it’s the conviction in his tone or the way his eyes fill with so much devotion that even though she’s heard that affirmation many times before, in many different variations, she finds herself believing it instantly. Irrevocably. “God, Nat, I’ll-”

She doesn’t let him utter whatever oath he was just about to swear as she rises on the tips of her toes to grab his face and crush her lips to his. For whatever promise he was going to make, it doesn’t matter. The second their lips meet, it’s as though the rest of the world fades away. There’s just them. Them and this electrifying desire that’s mixed in with something else, too. Something stronger, more formidable. Something that tethers her to him. And as he bends at the knees, scooping her into his arms without breaking their kiss, she finally comprehends what it is. It’s the very thing she’s been running away from since she first felt an inkling of it. This feeling that he’s everything she’s ever wanted and everything she’s ever going to want. That against the odds, they had a chance.

That there could be a them.

“Steve,” she sighs at the revelation, and if the way he kisses her deeper – hungrier – is any indication, he seems to have arrived at the same conclusion. But for the first time in her life, the idea doesn’t incite fear in her heart. Instead, as he walks them out of her kitchen and down the hall, she leans into it, kissing him back just as fiercely and conveying all the possibilities of them into the lock of their lips. 

​​“I missed you so much,” he confesses, trailing his lips down the column of her throat when they stumble down onto her bed, his body bracketing hers.

He nips teasingly at her pulse, causing her to shudder. She wants to say that she missed him too, to let him know how desperate she is for his touch and to satiate this seemingly never-ending ache she has for him that sinks right to her bones. But the relief in his tone tugs at her heartstrings, and she forces herself to focus. “Hey,” she says, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her gaze. “I love you.”

The awe that shimmers brightly in his eyes is impossible to miss. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”  

“If I ever made you doubt it…” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers without so much as a hint of hesitation that it’s almost hard to believe that after everything she’s done, here he is, choosing to trust her with his heart. Moments ago, she might have questioned it – questioned him – but not anymore. He turns his head, kissing the inside of her palm, and as his lips pull up into a little smile, her heart feels just about ready to burst in her chest that all she can do is bring her lips back to his. 

It’s then that she finally allows her desire to lead, letting herself get reacquainted with the taste of his lips and the feel of his body under her touch as she finds the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and off him. His hands follow suit, their kisses losing their chasteness and growing teeth as they both work to rid each other of the barriers between them. Blissful sighs fall from their lips as skin eventually grazes skin, and by the time they’ve stripped down to nothing, the only sound in the room is of their labored breathing. She reaches between them, feeling his chest rumble with a groan when she finds him already hard and aching for her.

“Steve,” she whimpers when she guides him to her entrance, making them both gasp as he glides teasingly over her. “Please.” 

To her relief, he doesn’t make her plead any longer. With a swivel of his hips, he pushes into her, making her nails dig into his back as her lips part with a breath. It astonishes her that despite losing count of the number of times they’ve surrendered to each other, that first push always feels like the very first, that stretch as he slowly sinks into her deliriously perfect every single time.

“I love you,” she sighs contentedly, wrapping her arms around his neck once he’s fully seated inside of her.

He leans his forehead against hers. “Say it again.” 

“I love you,” she repeats, a smile painting her lips now. “God, I love you.”

He beams at that, the joy that paints his expression so addictive that she can’t help but want to repeat the sentiment. So she does, professing the same words to him over and over even as he begins to move and stopping only when his lips find hers again, practically stealing the breath right out of her lungs.

For a moment, she’s content to let him lead. To savor the delectable fullness she feels as he ruts up into her nice and slow, hands caressing every inch of her skin that he can reach as though they have all the time in the world. But as it always is with them, pleasure quickly begins to crackle hotly through them both, and what starts off as languid and leisurely quickly grows frenzied. Ravenous.

A particularly delicious snap of his hips has her calling out his name, her walls fluttering and her arms tightening around him as she careens towards the edge. It's not until he presses a soothing kiss to her temple that she realizes she’s whimpering. “I know, baby,” he whispers. “I know.”

His hand reaches behind her then, holding her to him as he maneuvers them until he’s sitting up and she has a knee on either side of his lap.

“Natasha,” he rasps out when she sinks right back down onto him, her head tipping back in ecstasy as he brushes against that sweet spot inside her that makes her body tremble just so. Vaguely, she’s aware of his hands curling into her waist, his thumbs running soothingly over the skin there, encouraging her to move, but she allows herself a second to simply savor the feeling of being stretched just that little bit more this way.

“So good,” she whispers, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. He smiles up at her, and she watches as his expression dissolves into one of sweet torment when she finally begins moving, lifting herself up and then back down again and causing them both to moan. They'd long learned each other's bodies as if it were their own. Even so, as the pleasure begins to uncoil low in her stomach, she notes that this time around feels remarkably disparate from any other. More scintillating, somehow. As though with their fears and inhibitions finally laid to rest, this connection between them only runs deeper. More intimate.

Free. 

The muscles in her thighs begin to burn with the effort when she feels Steve reach between them, and as his hand slips down to where they’re joined, rubbing tight circles around her bundle of nerves, she gasps. “Let go, Nat,” he says just as her breaths come quicker. “I’ve got you.” 

It’s with that promise that she finally cries out, white-hot pleasure turning her vision to white as she succumbs to her high and takes him right off that dizzying edge with her. 

“Maria’s going to kill you, you know,” she teases later on when they finally make it underneath the sheets.

His breath skims across the top of her head as he chuckles. “She survived Tony Stark’s bachelor years,” he says. “She’s more than capable of handling me choosing to be with the love of my life.”

"Love of your life, huh?" she says, peeling her head away from his chest to raise a brow playfully at him. "That sounds serious."

"Oh, it's very serious," he says, smirking. "I'm talking, might get stuck with me forever, serious." 

She shakes her head in amusement. With all the truth they've laid bare tonight, it seems absurd that these words would still have the power to give her butterflies. And yet, she feels that familiar flutter in her stomach just the same. She sighs. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

“No, it’s not,” he concurs, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “But I’m ready to give it a try if you are.”

For a second, she just holds his gaze. Given the lives they both live, the possibility of getting hurt will always loom. And while that notion is one that had petrified her before, tonight, she realizes that it doesn’t matter anymore. With him, she’s willing to take the plunge – come what may. 

She reaches for his hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. “I am.” 

Chapter 7 | Epilogue

[glitterguts13]

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY PART1

Father's Day special delivery coming right now! Part 1 is all about the Genshin boys having their babies! Enjoy!

Albedo The candlelight is dim, casting a soft orange glow in the dark room. Hunched over next to his bed, Albedo gasps, one hand clutching onto the bed-frame, the other guiding his unborn child into the world.

“Come on, come on, just-” muffling a groan into his forearm, Albedo cries out at his child drops into his waiting hands. Pulling them up to his chest, he weeps softly upon hearing their soft cries.

“Good girl...oh sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

Bennett

“Oh- oh!” sobbing weakly, Bennett reaches under his heavy belly, fingers grazing over the legs dangling from his burning hole. “N-no, baby, no-wrong way-!” he sucks in a breath, crying out as he bares down with what was left of his waning strength. He stretches open, screaming, a suddenly rush of fluid falls onto the floor as his hands grasp around his squalling newborn.

“Oh-Archons thank you...you’re safe, you’re safe now.”

Diluc

Nails digging into the wooden counter tops of his bar, Diluc roars in agony. Legs spread apart, deep into a low squat, he bares down, cursing under his breath as his newborn slips onto the piles of towels he’d had the forethought to place down.

“Fuck-Oh fuck.” quickly lifting them from the floor, Diluc cradles them to his chest, marveling how just how loudly they cried.

“That’s it, good...cry, just keep crying for me.”

Kaeya

Groaning loudly, Kaeya rolls onto his side, lifting one leg into the air. A slow trickle of fluid running down his thighs, the head bulging against his tight rim of muscles.

“Just. Come. Out!” he groans again, burying his face into his pillow and pushing. All at once, the head pops free, the shoulders turning and slipping out with one final effort.

“Shit,” bringing them to his chest, he strokes a finger over their ruddy cheeks as they wail, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me.”

Mika “Push, Mika, you have to push.” the midwife busies herself between Mika’s trembling legs, giving the head dangling from his hole a gentle tug.

“Stop-Stop, don’t pull it!” he sobs, pushing despite the pain coursing throughout his aching stomach. All at once, the pressure ends, a screaming little boy placed to his heaving chest.

“Thank you...Archons thank you…”

Razor

The howl tears from his throat, raw and primal as another contraction rippled through his belly. A few wolves poked about, watching curiously as Razor bore down, bringing his pup into the world under the moon and stars. They plops onto the ground, bawling furiously, and Razor quickly brings them to his chest.

“Good pup...good lungs, cry...let the forest hear you.”

Venti

The scream tears through the tranquil night, shattering the peace. Naked and alone, Venti lets out another ear-splitting shriek as his child tears from his narrow hips and into his shaking hands. They flail about, crying and whimpering as Venti cuddles them close, singing a lullaby into their ear.

Baizhu

“Oh, Archons, have mercy-” skin ghostly white, hands clenched around his ankles, keeping his legs spread best he can, Baizhu struggles to push. His belly quivers with another contraction, sending him into a frenzied scream, his baby finally popping free.

“Dearest one- Oh, my little star,” he rambled, bringing the newborn to his chest, and wiping the muck of birth from their face, “Mother is here...I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Chongyun

“Just...a little...more-!” voice muffled with the rag stuffed into his mouth, Chongyun groans loudly. His fingertips graze of the top of the head, pushing with all his strength and gasping as the head crowns fully into his palm. One last push, and it’s squalling loudly, coming to be held tightly in Chongyun’s arms.

“There...there you are, welcome home baby.”

Gaming “You’re so close darling, hang there a bit longer.” Gaming sobs, clutching his mother’s hand tightly.

“Push, push, you’ve got the head out, push Gaming.” she soothes, watching as her grandchild comes into the world with a loud wail, flailing arms and legs. She places the newborn to Gaming’s chest, and he wraps around her instantly,

“Daddy’s here, I’ve got you, Daddy’s here…”

Xiao

The storm rages just outside the cavern. Spear in hand, Xiao anchors himself to it, stabbing the blade into the dirt and holding tight as he bore down. His belly tightened, legs quivering, a strangled gasp leaving his mouth as he feels something large slide from his body. Swiftly, he lifts the child to his arms, marveling at their beauty.

“You’re safe, I’ll protect you, forever.”

Xingqui

“Don’t stop, keep pushing!” legs held back by the midwife, Xingqui wails, clutching at his belly. Each push brought him closer and closer to being done, but doubled the pain. He feels them ripping him open, forcing their way into the world, ready or not.

“Push!” she orders once more, and Xingqui does, mind going blank for a moment before he realizes there’s a squirming newborn on his chest.

“You...little brat...that hurt-”

Zhongli

Slow, heaven breaths, eyes closed in deep concentration. The feeling of his muscles contracting, inching his baby closer and closer to the world, his entrance opening wide, burning as the head starts to peak through.

A soft gasp, hands quivering ever so slightly as he reaches between his legs and lifts his offspring into view.

“What a powerful little one you are,” Zhongli chuckles, exhaustion seeping into his bones, “I’m so very proud of you.”

Arataki Itto

“Ah- fuck!” moaning deeply, Itto gives one last solid push. The tiny pointed horns of his newborn dragging along the tender skin as it emerges, ripping it open. Blood splatters onto the ground, but Itto pays no mind, bringing his precious little treasure to his chest.

“That...was one hell of an entrance kiddo..but didja have to hurt Daddy like that-”

Ayato “Breathe, brother, slow, deep breaths...in and out...yes, like that.” Ayaka presses a damp towel to her brother’s cheek, mindful not to peek under the sheets where the midwife was at work.

“Push, one last push!” closing his eyes and pressing his chin to his chest, Ayato bares down, crying out as the baby enters the world with an indignant warble.

“Give her to me.” he orders, uncaring of the mess left behind, snuggling them into the crook of his arm.

“Welcome…Mommy is so glad to meet you...”

Gorou

“Good job Gorou, just one more push!” two pups already latched to his milky breasts Gorou groans, barely giving any effort before the third of his litter drops into Kokomi’s eager hands.

“Two girls and a son! You did wonderful Gorou.” with a smile, she places the third babe between her siblings, snuffling and whining loudly at the lack of a teat to feed on. Laughing weakly, Gorou gives her back a gentle rub,

“One moment baby...Mama has plenty of milk for you too, don’t worry.”

Kazhua

“I told you, you should have stayed at the harbor!” Beidou cringes as Kazhua lets out another deep, guttural moan, and nearly drops at the sight of the head bulging between her friend’s legs.

“Oh Archons- I can see it!” a slow, even breath, and Kazuha moans loudly through the next push, sending his baby flopping out onto the bed below.

“What do I do with it-”

“Hand it to me.” Kazuha sighs, shaking his head as Beidou gingerly places the screaming infant to his chest. Brave as she is, nothing could have prepared her for witnesses her dear friend being split open.

“Hello little one, Papa is here…”

Heizou

“Oh fuck just get out, please!” pressing his hands atop his heaving belly, Heizou pushes, legs kicking out as the head bursts forth with a spray of blood and fluid. Once more, and it drops onto the sheets between his legs, squirming and furious.

“You...troublemaker.” he pants, bringing them closer, and inspecting them closely.

“You aren’t getting siblings. Ever.”

Thoma

“Oh- Archons- not on the floor-!” halfway from the bath to his bed, the urge to bare down overcomes him. Dropping to all fours, Thoma barely as the chance to reach around and catch the newborn as it plops right into his shaking grasp. Mindful of the cord connecting them, Thoma brings them to his chest, allowing them to latch right to his milk laden breast.

“Two minutes...just two more minutes and we wouldn’t have ruined the floor…”

Alhaitham

“Enough, is enough.” a full day had passed, and the scribe was far past through. The head was crowning, snugly resting between his legs, and with one final effort, fully emerges. Gasping and clawing at the blankets under him, AlHaitham bares down again with renewed determination, relief flooring them him as they enter the world with a shrill cry.

“You certainly took your sweet time, didn’t you?”

Cyno

Growling, deep and feral, Cyno braces himself against the temple wall. The floor under him damp with his waters, body soaked with sweat as he forces his unborn into the world. Sharp reflexes keeps the infant from falling to the ground, and Cyno carefully checks them.

“Ten fingers...ten toes...One whole baby.”

Kaveh

“You’re scaring the other patie-” another earth shattering scream fills the room, followed by a pitiful sob.

“Just get it out, I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“You have to push if you want it out, now, push!” the doctor was more than done with Kaveh’s noise, and was losing his composure over his unwillingness to cooperate. Kaveh does his best, struggling to sit up enough to leverage his body into baring down, screaming bloody murder the whole way.

“There! A girl!” the doctor puts her into Kaveh’s belly, drying her off as the architect babbles incoherently.

“It’s over-I did it-Oh Archons, oh-oh what do I do now-”

Sethos

The desert was his home, and it was where he felt safest. Bringing his baby into the world surrounded by the sand had never been a question of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’ A strong push, a wild scream, and the baby is resting in his hands, bloody and wailing. Chuckling weakly, and falling onto his back, Sethos lie there with them wailing against his chest for a few moments.

“Good work kiddo...good work.”

Tighnari

“Come...on-!” three little big eared kits slept peacefully in their cots, while their Tighnari struggled nearby with the surprise fourth. Coming nearly six hours after the other, and certain he was finished, Tighnari squats next to the cots, groaning as his last kit slides easily into his hands. Panting, he brings them to his chest, wrapping them with a nearby blanket for warmth.

“Don’t worry little one,” he soothes, “I won’t let them tease you for being the runt, I promise.”

Freminet

The water offers some solace as the baby begins to crown, the cool sea easing the burn. He pushes, groaning into the night air, relief flooding him as the baby slides into the water with a cloud of blood and fluid. Taking in a shaky breath, he brings them to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the top of their head.

“Welcome to the world...Mama will keep you safe, I promise.”

Lyney

“Almost there, just a little more.” Lynnette whispers to her brother, holding his hand tightly as he bore down. He cries out, startled at the sensation of his child leaving his body.

“A boy, you have a son.” she whispers, handing the newborn to Lyney’s waiting hands. He swallows thickly, throat tight with emotion.

“Daddy’s here...you’ll always be safe with us...no one will ever hurt you.”

Neuvillette

Groaning, Neuvillette clings to the side of the tub with enough force to risk breaking the porcelain. His body felt as if it were being torn apart, and he’s grateful not a soul is around to hear the scream he releases as his child barrels into the world. With haste, he lifts them from the water, clutching their squirming form to his chest and nuzzling them gently.

“Don’t cry little one...You are safe and sound…”

Wrio

“Just...a little...more...come on…” he mumbles under his breath, eyes closed in focus as another contraction tears through him. A high scream, and he feels the weight in his pelvis drop, landing safely on the mattress. Opening his eyes, he blinks through years and spies the bloody little thing his body had kept warm and safe for the last nine months.

“Hey champ...welcome to the world.”

Tartaglia

“Shit!” being stabbed, beaten and nearly killed somehow didn’t compare to the sheer torture of having a baby push it’s way through his tight hole. Each push brings it closer to the world, and deepens the pain, but he doesn’t stop, not until he feels them slide careful into his bloodied hands.

“Gotcha...I gotcha kid, I got ya.”

Wanderer

Secluded and locked away from the rest of the world, he questions his own sanity. Why did he allow this parasite to grow off him? Why was he letting it torment him this way? Why was he pushing it out and screaming in pain and feeling all too lost and afraid.

“You...You…” he looks at the newborn's delicate face, screwed up and red as it wailed away, “What do I do with you...”

[willows-escape]

Love, Love, Love | AHS Tate Langdon x Reader

Pairing: AHS Tate Langdon x Reader

Summary: You died. A pity. You were stuck in a house filled from the basement to the attic of people past who'd met their untimely fates. A pity. Your boyfriend, the love of your short life, stopped talking to you; spending his time hanging out with the bane of your existence. Violet. A pity.

Warnings: you die, terrible communication skills, angst to fluff, smut smut smut, reader tries to be in charge- tate nips that in the bud quickly though, restraint, oral (fem receiving), banging on the basement floor lel, they get caught, creampies, slight make up sex, tate makes you taste yourself haha whoops, jealousy, tate and violet bein friends- she forgave him and whatnot, he makes a jokey reference to what he said about f-ing violet in the show but that’s just because it’s tate

You were cold. So, so cold. Desolate and drained of life, splayed out and unnervingly still on the floor beneath you. Your own dead body was casually propped in front of you, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Another milestone in the traumatic circle of life in which you lived.

You heard pitiful sobs ringing out alongside hushed whimpers, 'i'm sorry, i really tried. I promise.'

'It's okay,' you murmured, words hushed and tension building in your throat.

'I still love you.'

But did he love you?

You found yourself pondering this question lately, eyes narrowed and lips bitten to shreds as you silently sat on the floor of the attic. It was safe to say you were relatively adjusted to the whole being dead thing now, having made yourself acquainted with all the other lone spirits wandering the house.

'Come on, Beau, gimme a turn with the ball,' you smiled, watching the small boy prod, push and throw the small toy around in glee. It was heartwarming watching him be so happy and in his element, but also it twisted your guts knowing why he was doomed to the fate he shares with you.

Eager to play with you, the ball was quickly pushed along the dusty, splintered floorboards. You reached out to it, but the enthusiasm behind Beau's push caused it to roll further and faster than you'd anticipated. Giggling, you pushed yourself out of your cross legged position and followed the ball to the entrance.

The attic door was open, meaning the ball had fallen from the attic floor to the hallway beneath you. You knew that since you were a ghost you could technically just materialise yourself in any room you wished to be in, but you had a habit of trying to stick to doing things the traditional way when you could help it.

'Tate, don't be an asshole,' you heard a familiar voice snicker beneath you, accompanied by a boyish laughter that somehow always managed to set fire to your skin. Except this time, your skin prickled, your faux blood tingling as if your veins were flowing with lightning.

'You know you love me, Vi.'

Even with another girl, Tate still managed to be the only thing to make you still feel alive.

Your mood had effectively been soured, the ball no longer of your concern. You disappeared, ignoring the confused whining of the little boy behind you. You felt too betrayed to care.

If there's one thing that ignited your nerves, it was the shrill screams of children. The sound had you bristling on edge, agitated and digging your nails into the palms of your hands. The affection and care you held for kids didn't apply when they were crying their little hearts out.

'Are you okay, Nora?' you asked sympathetically, watching her grimace at the infant laying in the cot beside her, as if she were looking at the devil himself. The baby was crying out, for what you didn't know, but it didn't seem like it was going to chill out anytime soon.

'I don't wish to look at it,' she stood up, hands wiping themselves against each other as if to rid herself of the suddenly dirty germs of her child. 'Where's Vivienne?'

'Having a family night with Ben and Violet,' a new figure peaked up, the hauntingly familiar voice turning your taste buds sour and causing your saliva to run dry.

Shaking her head in irritation, she tossed a blanket in your direction before turning to exit the main area of the basement, 'I'll be back once it's calmed.'

You groaned. Not only had you been left with a small, screaming child, you were also sitting in front of the man who hadn't properly spoken with you since your death- and had clearly moved on just fine and dandy. As if you'd meant nothing.

Rage simmered in your chest, begging to slip off your tongue and rear it's ugly head at the object of your anger. But you kept yourself collected, it was no use sobbing until your lungs collapsed or beating him with your fists as you unleashed the pent up sadness and confusion you held.

And not only that, this was only time you'd been near his vicinity since your death, and yet he was still only talking about her.

There was an awkward silence drifting between you both, feeling his coconut coloured eyes raking over you as you stood up to attend to the responsibility you'd been left with. You lifted the baby into your blanketed arms, humming a familiar lullaby as you rocked back and fourth gently. The crying didn't cease.

'Do dead babies need diaper changes?'

Your lips pursed. The first words he felt worthy of saying to you after your death... was asking if ghost babies could piss and shit? You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, what else could you expect from him? That was the boy you knew, as dense as ever.

'Nope,' you responded blankly, 'You've been dead longer than me, would've supposed you'd have figured out dead people don't have functioning organs by now.'

'I dunno, but babies are babies. What else can they do except shit, eat and sleep?' he mused, his relentless gaze still lingering on your figure.

'Well, now he's only left with eating and sleeping.'

The silence settled in once more, and you tried to ignore how much you loved having his attention. You bitterly reminded yourself that if it weren't for the Harmon's spending time together, he'd leave you to be with Violet in a flash.

'I'm sorry.'

'Whatever for?' you inquired, voice light and airy as if you didn't understand why he felt the need to say such a thing. What could he have possibly done to feel the need to apologise?

You heard a disgruntled sigh from behind you, his frustration clearly becoming too overwhelming to contain. Good, you thought, be annoyed. You couldn't give less of a shit.

'Can we just go back to normal? Please?'

Normal?

Normal.

He, all of a sudden, felt as though it was time to go back to normal? After abandoning you, choosing another over you, betraying you, he felt it was time to pull on his big boy pants and act like all of this just never occurred? You'd known he had a slight fear of rejection, but you never expected him to have the audacity to not even face what he'd done wrong. To ignore it and attempt to sweep it under the rug, as if it were just a dry spell in your relationship that meant no harm.

You scoffed, placing the no longer crying angel back into his crib. You brushed back the few strands of hair he possessed, before looking to face the antsy man behind you. The nerve.

'Can't do, sorry.'

You walked off, disappearing as Nora came back to attend to her baby. Loving him conditionally once more, returning to care for and treat him as her own- on her own terms.

Much like somebody else you knew.

'I don't know what to do,' Tate groaned, 'I don't know how to get her to talk to me again, y'know? She's just like, gone cold. Like I don't exist.'

Ben Harmon sat across from him, arms crossed as he listened to the boys ramblings. It was almost entertaining how Tate had seemed to have gone full circle, and yet didn't have the self awareness to realise he was back where he started. No longer obsessing over his daughter, thank god, but another girl who'd enraptured him. Another girl who was, funny enough, also trying to cut contact with him.

'We can't force people to do thing's they don't want to do, Tate. If they don't want to talk to you, then that's their choice. They don't owe you a conversation.'

'Don't you think I know that?'

It was also funny how even though Ben had vehemently refused to ever see Tate as another client in his life, or in his death, here he was. Sitting across from the pouting man child who had begged him for help one last time, promising that this would be the final occasion where he'd ask for his assistance. For some peculiar reason, Ben didn't believe this would be the last.

'Is this week the first time you tried to talk to her?' Ben questioned, the unfortunate realisation sinking in that the situation was more hopeless than he thought as Tate nodded his head. 'Why?'

'I dont knowww,' he whined, head thrown back and eyes closing as he reveled in his self pity. 'I just, I don't know, I was scared.'

'Scared?'

'I feel like she died because of me, like I failed her. Like she'd have been better off without me meddling in her life, so I thought why meddle in her afterlife too? She didn't need me making her even more miserable.'

'Did she give any indication that she actually thinks this way of you, Tate?' His brows furrowed as he took in what the blonde boy was saying, trying to make sense of how he'd come to this conclusion in his sick head. Sick being the keyword, of course his thought process made no sense. Tate's mental state wasn't normal by any means, so it took jumping through plenty of loops to try to understand him.

Many, many loops.

'I mean, no,' Tate fiddled with his fingers, looking down at his hands as he tried to hold back his tears, 'I fucked up.'

'Yup.'

'Do you think I can fix it? Like I did with Violet?'

Ben paused his thought process, staring the boy in his eyes as he spoke through gritted teeth, 'Violet? What have you been doing with my daughter?'

'Nothin', nothin'' Tate quickly reassured, raising his hands in surrender, brushing off the older man's piercing stare. 'I have my eyes set on y/n now, me and Violet are longgg gone. Still cool to hang out with though, yesterday we-'

'I don't want to know what you've been doing with my daughter.'

'Gee, relax. I fucked her once, years ago,' Tate scoffed, rolling his eyes as he chuckled, 'She was a great time for a virgin though, she was sooo wet-'

'Enough,' Ben seethed, standing up out of his leather armchair as he walked towards the door. He opened it, pointing in the direction of the hallway.

'Hey, I was just messing with ya,' Tate softly spoke, trying to diffuse the situation. He didn't really mean what he said about Violet, his numerous encounters with you had made everyone before you seem as if they never happened. He just wanted to get on Ben's nerves a little, like the good times. Plus, Tate couldn't leave yet, Ben hadn't solved his problem. And he'd rather get gunned down dead again before leaving the office without a plan of action to get you to reconcile with him.

'Tate, you know what your problem is?' Ben approached him, hands making aimless gestures as he continued his rant. 'You don't have boundaries, you don't think of the affects of your words and your actions before it's too late. Consider people's feelings more and you wouldn't be in this situation for the second time.'

'Well, ow,' Tate cringed, face scrunching up as he took in the mean spew of word's Ben had thrown at him. He knew he didn't deserve niceties, but that didn't make his harsh words sting less.

'I won't repeat myself, Tate. I want you out.'

Reluctantly and with an angered scowl on his face, he disappeared.

'Fucking talk to me!' He cried, arms tightly clutched around your frame, holding onto you as if you'd vanish if he let go. You gritted your teeth at his sobs.

You tried forcefully removing his desperate arms from around your body, but your efforts were useless as they only spurred him to cling tighter. His salty tears were soaking the white fabric of the dress you had died in, your nose scrunching as you felt the wet patch press against you unpleasantly.

'Where we you when I wanted to talk?' you angrily mumbled, struggling to even lighten the grip he had purchased around you. You were stuck, and you knew there was no point wasting your strength. He was a stubborn boy.

'I'm sorry, okay,' he hiccuped, his breath hitching in his throat as he babbled on aimlessly. You understood a small fraction of his words, not even enough to string together a sentence, but enough to gather what he was trying to convey. You really didn't want to have your resolve shattered, but if you had to listen to his pitiful pleas any longer you were going to snap.

Snap, as in, take his soft cheeks in your hands and give him a fat smooch, and forgive all the heartbreak and pain he'd put you through recently.

But, you wanted to hear him beg a little more. You were quite cruel. However, there was a small, nagging fear in the back of your mind you'd needed relieved.

'Tate, what about... what about Violet?' you softly asked, your voice barely audible under your breath. You were scared, so fucking scared. What if he immediately let you go upon realising what you said, coming to his senses as it dawned on him that Violet really was the better option? That you weren't enough for him after all?

You knew enough of Tate and Violet's history to be aware that they'd been something once before, something intimate and that there had been a shared attraction between the two. You didn't know the extent, nor did you wish to know all the details, but there was something. And that was enough to have you on edge.

'Violet?' Tate looked up at you, tear stained cheeks gleaming and red as he sniffled. 'What- did Violet say something to you? Whatever it was, it was a lie! Is that why you didn’t wanna talk? Violet?'

'It was nothing that Violet did,' you stated, running your hand through his poofy, blonde locks for comforts sake. For your or his comfort, you didn't know.

'Then why?' his voice cracked as a sob escaped his throat, his head nuzzling deeper into your hip. He was on his knees beside you, puffy eyes, lips and cheeks pressing against you.

'You're just always with her,' the mental wall holding the sea of emotions you were harbouring collapsed, your cries matching his as you slid to a sitting position. Tate didn't let you go, keeping a firm grip on you as you joined him on the floor. 'You seem so happy together, and you haven't spoken to me since, well- you know when. And you and Violet used to be a thing, and I heard you say that you knew she loved you when i was upstairs in the attic one day and I just-'

'You're stupid,' Tate chuckled through his tears, arms adjusting to bring you against his body in a loving embrace. You felt the safest you had in a while, coddled in his arms against the wall of the basement. It was peaceful.

'I just need to know, Tate,' you brushed his fringe back as you gazed into his eyes, the love you'd left bubbling under the surface of your being, threatening to explode out of you. He was so beautiful, and you were yearning to let him know. 'Violet or me? I'll forgive you for not talking to me, won't even ask why you did all that. I just need-'

'You.'

You smiled, pulling his stupid, pretty face towards you to indulge yourself in what you'd been missing. His love.

Although, you still wanted to make him beg.

'Why'd you stop?' he huffed, nudging his face towards yours to capture your lips in another heated kiss. He'd gone so long without you, and right now, he was feeling selfish. He was intent on taking all of you.

'Proving I can make you feel better than Violet,' you laughed at the forlorn expression etched across his face, his hands tightening their grip as he attempted to pull you into him. He wanted you to become one with him. He wanted you so bad. Needed you.

'Babyyy,' he whinged, tugging on the material of your dress. You didn't move an inch. Now you'd made up with the love of your life, you were going to make sure the next hour of the rest of your relationship was going to start with a bang.

'Take your pants off.'

A goofy smile spreads across his lips, his grip untangling from around you as he reaches down to undo the zipper of his jeans. His hands were ready and brisk, making quick work of his clothing as he slid it down his legs. He'd been waiting for this since the last time you'd made love.

That was a part of the difference in how he viewed you and Violet. Violet was a quick fuck, an easy release, a one and done kind of deal- if he had known your pretty little ass would've waltzed into his life, he wouldn't have touched her like that with a ten foot pole. They were similar, true buddy material, but you were the breath of fresh air he needed. The change of pace he craved. You kept him sane, while Violet ignited his instability and made him lose himself. He hated losing himself.

You reached out with your right hand, your left keeping you stable and upright while you kneeled in between his spread legs. Fire was accumulating in your tummy, your arousal twisting and enkindling your insides. You saw the appendage beneath the flimsy material of his boxers twitch, a small wet stain signalling his desperation. His cock throbbed as he waited in anticipation for you to finally make contact with his aching hard on.

You traced just around the outline of it, watching his eyes as they followed your hand going round and round his dick. He needed your hand, mouth, cunt- anything, he just needed to feel you touch him. He'd missed your touch more than anything.

'Please?' he cheekily peered up at you, biting his lip as he smirked. You rolled your eyes at him, reminding him you weren't going to give him what he wanted unless he begged. Properly.

He entertained your false sense of dominance for slightly longer, until he saw your hand nearing the dripping mess between your legs and he'd immediately decided he'd had enough of the teasing. He wasn't going to get left out of the fun.

Before you could even process the change in position, you were knocked onto your back and your hands were pinned above your head. That was fucking hot, even if you were slightly winded. If Tate wasn't situated snug and firm between your legs, you'd be rubbing your thighs together, desperately searching for friction against your clit.

'Woah,' you giggled, smiling up at Tate as he frantically kissed down your cheek to the bare skin of your neck. His hands trailed down to your parted thighs, sneakily making their way beneath the flimsy skirt that was doing little to nothing to hide your clothed mound.

He toyed with the lace of your underwear, getting back at you for the torment you put him through not moments before. He watched as you bit your lip and rolled around impatiently, wanting his fingers in your dripping folds, rubbing and soothing the ache in your pussy. He just laughed at your insatiable need, leaning closer to cover your lips with his as he finally pushed past the barrier keeping you two agonisingly apart.

‘Oh, shit-' you moaned, trying to relieve your hands from the relentless grip your sweet boyfriend currently had around your sore, red wrists. You never knew pain could feel so fucking good. The fingers of his free hand were exploring every inch of you, tentatively circling your hole before rising up to your sweet bundle of nerves. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him. It was addictive.

Smothering his fingers in the flowing essence dripping from your hole, he bought them up between the two of you as he once more parted from your plump, swollen lips. Your cheeks warmed at the pruned state of his hands, eyes entranced as you noticed the way your arousal dripped down him. He alined his fingers up to entrance of your mouth, words that didn’t need to be spoken aloud hanging off of the edge of his tongue. Your eyes widened.

‘You- you want me to—‘

‘Open.’

One word was all that needed to be said for you to scurry to fulfil his orders. You parted your lips as he requested, watching as he lowered his fingers past your opening before laying them flat against your wet muscle. ‘Suck.’

Eyes fluttering shut, you wrapped the ring of your lips around him as you tasted the manifestion of your excitement. It didn’t as taste as bad as you expected, sweet even. You laughed mentally as you recalled all the fruit you’d love to indulge yourself in when you were still alive. Must be that.

You lapped your tongue over his digits, moving your head back and forth as you took every inch of them that you could. His breathing was becoming laboured, watching you as you sucked him in as if he were a lollipop for you to feast on. He quickly removed himself from your mouth, shuffling further down the floor until his hot breath was right above where you wanted him the most. He tugged your underwear down your legs, wrapping his arms tightly around your thighs as he hurriedly dipped his head between your soft thighs.

His tongue was cold as it came in contact with you, sending you jolting as he devoured everything he could get his lips on. Your wetness smeared across the lower half of his face as he pushed his lips closer against you, taking every little drop you were giving him. Your moans and whimpers spurred him on, his greed taking over as he meticulously circled his tongue around your sweet spot. His hips had a mind of their own, pathetically rutting his cock against the basement floor as you pulled him closer by his mess of hair.

You can feel him moaning against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your sensitive area as you squealed in surprise. You tried to pull away from his ministrations, but the grip on your thighs kept you anchored to his persistent hot mouth.

Kissing down from your clit to your needy hole, he trailed his tongue around the ring of your cunt before pushing past the barrier into your dripping warmth. You cried out, unintentionally clenching around him, legs quivering as he tongue fucked your hole as if it were his dick.

Speaking of his dick, it was feeling very lonely and like it wanted in on some of the fun. Finally pulling away from between your legs, he moved forward until he was face to face with you.

‘Hi,’ you laughed, taking in his blissed out appearance. His lips and the tip of his nose glistened, his cheeks pink and pupils dilated. His hair was a poofy, untamed ball on the top of his head, showing signs of your tugging and pulling from how it had knotted together.

‘Hey, greetings and salutations,’ he smiled back, placing a firm kiss on your lips. You deepened the kiss as you wrapped your arms around the curve of his neck, your heart soaring as he enveloped your body in his arms.

The sounds of your wet lips smacking together filled the air, your mind oblivious as you lost yourself in the way his soft lips felt against yours.

‘A-ah, what-‘

You felt something prodding at your entrance, his squishy tip forcing your walls to spread around him. You gasped, feeling your insides stretch to accommodate his average size. You certainly weren’t expecting that.

Taking the opportunity as it presented itself, his tongue slithered it’s way into your mouth without a second thought, twirling around yours as you shared spit. He slid inside of you inch by inch, groaning into your mouth as he finally bottomed out. He could feel your cervix kissing his tip, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in ecstasy. He missed this- missed you.

Supporting his weight on his palms, his arms rested against your head as he dragged his hips slowly back and forth. Usually your love making was a lot more intense, rough. It was pounding that left you sore for days with a limp in your step. But right now, you were both making up for the days you’d been without each other. Right now, you needed each other more than you needed to finish.

You could feel his balls making contact with your ass as he thrusted in and out of you, your vaginal walls stretching and tightening as he entered and left you. You feel so fucking full with him inside of you, realising how much you missed being stuffed with everything he had to give. Your juices were dripping down his cock, watching droplets of sweat gather on his forehead as he worked you both closer to your orgasm.

‘Can I hold you, please?’ you looked up at him, not missing the way his eyes clenched shut before dropping onto you like a bag of potatoes. You wrapped your arms around him, legs coming up to encompass his waist as he continued to make you both feel good.

‘I love you,’ Tate moaned, arms coming down to pull your thighs up into him, making sure you take every inch of him. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-‘

‘I love you too,’ you cry out, brain going blank as the blonde boy randomly sped up his rhythm. Every thrust of his hips had him pulling you up onto his cock, genitals rubbing together as he took everything from you that he could. Every drag of his dick inside of you, every kiss of your lips. He didn’t know what he would do if he were to lose it all again, if he lost you.

Reaching between your sweaty bodies, he circled your clit as he pounded into you harder than before. Your cunt tightened, the pressure building in your muscles becoming so much you felt ready to explode. You were going to snap, the floodgates were going to open and you were going to cum all over Tate Langdon’s cock. You looked fucked out and exhausted, your body ready to give out as you took his last few thrusts.

‘Shit, cumming-‘

Your cunt spasmed as you came undone around him, ears ringing as you writhed and squirmed in his hold. You could feel his ejaculate shooting into you, painting your walls white with his cum. He slowly fucked it into you, noting with a dozy smile how great it was he was dead and couldn’t impregnate you. Well, not likely, he soon grimaced.

After a few more slow, gentle thrusts, Tate removed his flaccid cock from your sopping hole as he turned to lay beside you. You both turned to each other at the same time, loopy smiles on both faces that neither had the energy or care to try and hide.

You finally felt whole again.

‘Are you done? It’s not just you in this basement, you know.’

Hayden’s shrill voice calls out, her tone less than pleased at the sight of you two, fucked out on the ground.

‘Jealous?’ Tate remarked, wrapping his arm around you as he pulled you into his chest. You burned red in shame at forgetting your location, which just so happened to be the hub of every single dead person in the house.

‘Fuck you.’

first attempt at smut lol, hope was okay. feedback would be appreciated! <3

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 08

Set Fire to the Rain

But I set fire to the rain

Watched it pour as I touched your face.

- ( The song of this Chapter is 'Set Fire to the Rain' by Adele.)

What's one supposed to say when she is trapped in a box with her family's sworn enemy, with his thumb pressed against her pulse point as he promises to ruin her?

Probably nothing.

It would also probably be a sane move not to provoke him further.

But not today.

Today she hovers on the brink of insanity.

"Either you want to ruin me or you want to make me work for you. Choose your poison, Mr. Raizada," the words are ice chips, melting in her mouth.

She squares her shoulders. Her fingers wrap around his wrist one by one as she removes his hand from her skin. His palm glides along her neck. The roughness drags along. It burns. She grits her teeth to stop the tingling in her fingertips as they brush against his forearm when she lets his wrist go. Her red glass bangles clink softly against her quivering wrist.

"And if you’re going to ruin me, you better make it worth my while. Because I'm sure as hell not going to work for you under a threat," she lets out, emphasising the word 'threat'.

His eyes are radioactive, seeping into her bones and poisoning her core.

He leans in, bringing his lips close to her ear. She balls her fist to tame down a shiver that's threatening to run wild, as his stubble whispers against her cheek. Rose petals bloom across the skin, making her weightless.

"One day, Miss Gupta," his breath feathers over her ear. "I am going to collect that debt I owe you.'' His words are ghosts, lurking in the shadows. "....and you know what?" His voice grazes over her skin like sand against slik; coarse, raw and primal.  "........ You are going to enjoy repaying me."

She can't breathe. Whatever retorts she's formed in her mind are on the floor. Warm floods her skin as a sudden rage fills every fibre of her being. Her hands tremble as she clenches them into fists, nails digging into her palms.

The nerve of him!

The words replay in her mind, burning like a wildfire she can’t put out. Her fingertips burn with the desire to do something. Anything. She wants to hurt him, wants to shake that cold indifference off his face. She hates that about him the most, how he never loses control, never falters. She tries to breathe, to calm herself, but the knot in her chest only tightens.

He straightens up, holding her hazels in his caramel-browns and takes a few steps back to reach the opposite side. He dials a number and brings the phone to his ear without leaving her hazels, not even for a single second.

"We are done."

The elevator dings open, somewhere she doesn't know. She doesn't care at all. She is too busy taming the wildfire raging through her bones.

And with the ghost of a sardonic smirk, he strides down the empty hallway while she drills a hole in his back with her fiery gaze.

Oh no, we are not so done.

Why is Mr. 'we-are-done' so adamant about collecting a debt that she doesn't even consider one at all?

He is still that encrypted code she can’t crack. A code she has no desire to decode.

No, that's not true. She wants to burn the code. She wants to overwrite it, hack all the data and leak all of them over the network. She wanted to erase every trace of him and let all his data dissolve into static.

She doesn’t know if it’s possible to feel this level of hate that is coursing through her body.

No, no, no. They are not done.

Not yet.

When she exits the lift in the basement, she notices the crowd gathered, waiting for the elevator, and the electrician working frantically to ensure everything is alright. A restaurant executive rushes toward her, profusely apologizing for the inconvenience. She just smiles and says she's fine.

No harm done.

Not externally.

Then she realizes someone has rendered her ride back invalid. Very rudely.

She signs, attempting to call an Uber. She certainly isn't going to call Mr.Jha and explain the situation to him. She decides to wait in the lobby for her Uber.

Meanwhile, the sky keeps rumbling and the first drops of rain begin to fall, light at first, then more insistent. The soft pitter-patter turns into a steady rhythm. She watches as the rain pours down in sheets, blurring the view of the streetlights and cars, the cityscape dissolving behind a curtain of water.

Her fingers twitch slightly at her sides, wanting to reach out and touch the raindrops. The pull to step out into the rain consumes her. She envisions the water sliding down her arms, soaking her clothes until they cling to her like a second skin. The rain, pure and untamed, would wash away her chains, make her feel free.

Her phone rings. Her Uber is here.

The Uber moves slowly, cutting through the rain. The world seems distant, almost dreamlike. She leans slightly against the window, tracing the droplets that race down the glass. Her gaze flicks to the side mirror when she senses another car trailing behind, its headlights dimmed but unmistakably following her every turn. Her breath hitches as the car maintains a steady pace, neither speeding up nor lagging behind. It’s a sleek black vehicle, but the heavy downpour prevents her from seeing the license plate or the car model.

The wipers move in a rhythmic sweep over the windshield, almost in sync with the beating of her heart. There's an eerie precision in the way it follows, unhurried but deliberate, as if its driver has all the time in the world. Her fingers tighten around her phone.

She looks down at her phone, contemplating whom to call. She spares another glance outside, but the car has vanished into the rain. She lets out a sigh of relief, the tension in her shoulders easing as she chides herself for being unnecessarily paranoid.

The Uber entered a quiet, secluded stretch of a road and suddenly, the vehicle came to an abrupt halt, jolting her in the seat.

“What happened?”

“The tyre is punctured, ma’am. Just give me a few minutes. I’ll change it,” the driver replies, his tone apologetic as he steps out into the rain.

She sighs. It's a long night indeed. On this side of the city, she won't even find another transport. She glances at her phone. And, oh shit, it's dead. Fantastic.

The sound of laughter filters through the closed windows, drawing her gaze outside. Little boys and girls splash joyfully in the puddles, their feet kicking up water in playful abandon while their laughter echoes in the air. Their bodies move with a freedom she can't help but envy. Her fingers twitch as she watches them. Their carefree innocence tugs at the corners of her soul, begging her to let go. And with her heart in between her palms, she gives in and steps out of the car.

The rain cascades around her like a curtain of shimmering diamonds as it seeps into her hair and clothes. She extends her hand and clutches a fistful of rain. She feels the raindrops on her fingertips. They slide in, weaving their way through her fingers, into her palm. She looks up feeling the cool droplets kissing her skin. For one infinite moment, she feels free.

Her lips stretch as a laugh bubbles up inside. With a childlike giggle, she kicks off her heels, letting them tumble to the ground, and joins the children in their rhythmless dance. The puddles became her stage and the rain an enchanting symphony, drumming against the earth. The tinkling of her glass bangles joins in, singing the melody of joy.

Her skin starts burning as she feels the weight of being watched, but she is too lost in the magic of the moment to care.

She twirls and leaps, her movements mirroring the carefree abandon of the children, their laughter harmonizing with the whispers of the rain. The raindrops fold her into their arms and smile against her skin while the cold wind wraps around, braiding a soft magic through her hair.

The world around her transforms, where the rain is her elixir, dissolving chains around her. The raindrops become her feathers, glistening as they cling to her skin. They are the air under her wings, lifting her higher and higher. With each twirl and each spin, she sheds the shackles and spreads the wings like the bird she was born to be.

Lost in the rhythm of her movements, she loses her footing and slips, but instead of falling, a strong arm wraps around her as she collides into a hard chest. An Armani-clad chest.

In Charcoal black.

The world is eerily quiet and time becomes a broken hourglass bleeding seconds through sands, slipping beyond her reach as her fingers wrap around his lapel. The warmth radiating from him contrasts with the cool rain. Her heart grows wings. Fluttering, flapping, soaring.

She looks up, swallowing the nothing in her throat, to meet the brown orbs, to see how they look soaked in the rain. 

And they are magnificent.

His browns change colours, sometimes it's like moulted chocolate, sometimes caramel brown, sometimes caramel and chocolate mixed together.

Yet, always bottomless, like the deepest part of the ocean.

Right now, they are liquid gold, swirling with the rich hue of dark chocolate and moulted amber. The raindrops clinging to his lashes sparkle like jewels in the streetlight.

The rain continues to pour down, creating a cocoon over them. Piercing the veil comes a foreign voice.

"Sir, do you have any extra tyres to lend? Mine is jammed."

It startles both of them as they push away from each other, reacting like they’ve just touched something scorching hot. And then, she remembers, where she is, who she is and who he is, everything.

"Yes, I have one in the trunk," he replies, without abandoning her eyes. He racks his fingers through his rain-soaked hair. Her fingers ache to follow the same path.

Yet.

"No, no need," she says firmly, clenching her fingers into a tight ball and turns toward the driver. "You don't have to take me any further. I'll manage myself. Let me just get my purse."

"You have a very stubborn passenger, I see."

"Oh, thanks for the compliment,    Mr. Raizada, but I can't afford any of your debts."

She turns angrily to reach the car, but his hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist.

A thunderclap echoes, so does her scream.

The glass bangles shatter, digging into her skin, drawing blood. She clutches at her wrist, closing her eyes tightly to breathe through the sudden pain. Crimson dripping from the breech.

"Fuck," a crack in his calm, controlled demeanour appears before it vanishes in thin air. "Let me see."

A soft murmur.

But she draws her hand away.

"I said let me see," this time a little forceful.

"No thanks!!! Keep away from me," She snaps through gritted teeth, but it comes out like a broken yell. Tears of anger, pain, and frustration roll down her cheeks, intermingled with the rain. The night is just not ending anytime soon. She starts walking toward the car.

The rain has slowed down to a light drizzle. He tosses the car keys to the driver and commands, "Be quick."

Without uttering another word, he grabs her other wrist, careful of the bangles this time and all but drags her toward his car, which is parked behind the Uber. When they reach the passenger side, she jerks her wrist free.

He opens the car door, causing the interior light to illuminate the surroundings. "Don't talk to me like that".

Her eyes narrow, his unyielding.

He reaches out to grab her injured wrist, but she takes a step back. Yet he reaches out once more, grabbing her forearm and bringing her wrist under the light. She tries to snatch her wrist free.

The more he attempts to see her wound, the more she tries to break free. At the end of the tug-of-war, he growls, "Khushi." A warning.

That stops her.

Because she've never heard her first name falling from his lips before.

Nobody says her name like this.

His lips wrap around the word.

His rasp caresses every syllable.

She winces slightly as he inspects her wound, her delicate wrist imprisoned in his colossal fingers, a fragile bird caught in the grip of a storm. A broken shard of glass lies embedded in her skin. Without saying anything he lowers his head, his teeth grip the jagged piece and pull it out. Her heart races in her wrist, pulsing in her fingers.

A delicate whimper escapes her lips, as fragile as the flicker of lightning under the dark cloud above.

His eyes lock instantly onto hers as he spits the glass piece out. His tongue peeks out to lick his lips, tasting the crimson that lingers there.

Red paints her cheeks, spreading to her neck, down to her chest, as he cleans her wound and wraps it in fresh gauze from his glove box.

"We are ready to go, ma'am," the driver's voice floats from somewhere in this misty haze as he hands the keys back.

"I'll be there in a minute," her words split in half as she replies.

Her hazels bore into his browns. He crosses her arms. His face is empty except for a slight lift, resembling a smile, playing on his lips. She says nothing. With one last gaze, she walks away, telling herself not to look behind. And she succeeds.

When the Uber starts to move along the streets, she sees a familiar, sleek black car trailing her. Again. The same one that has been trailing her before. But this time it doesn't turn her blood cold. Her blood is lava, coursing through her veins.

The car follows her till she reaches her house. It doesn't come close. It stops half a mile from the main gate. Two guards manning the entrance look at her before they open the gate. The Uber rolls inside and she stares back till she can see no more.

Author's note: Another chapter down! Your thoughts mean everything to me, so feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

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