#dreams from a petrified head

[zoeynsanity]

"you want to know who we're at war with. we're at war with you, jeremy."

▪︎ Dreams from a Petrified Head (2011)

[13curses]

𐔌 cockwarming toji after a horror movie scares you ! mdni

𝔀arning. fem!reader, age gap, comfort n sillies except for p in v <3 wc. 1,625 ⟢

you promised your new boyfriend toji you'd be just fine if you guys were to watch a horror movie. a borderline dumb, pig's blood type of slasher would've been just fine, except a psychological found footage horror has piqued your interest. toji claims if you were a cat, curiousity would kill you.

and it does bite you in the ass at three o’clock when you find yourself shifting, having to pee enough for it to wake you up. except . . your silly mind decides to flash images from the movie, hell, your dazed state convinces you that if you're to grab your phone and unlock it, your lockscreen will be from the movie.

your heart quickly begins to palpate and you dare not open your eyes, instead you curl up like the aforementioned kitten toji compared you to. speaking of toji, you've stopped cuddling a couple of hours ago, and as far as you know from the pitch black scenario, you're facing away from one another.

it's fine, it's cool, it's a hot night in the midst of spring and sometimes not glueing to each other is for the best when it comes to comfort. not this time, though.

“toji..?” you mumble.

no response. deep slumber. you hear his soft snorts, you even get petrified when they're delayed after one another.

“toji..” you call out again, voice in a higher pitch, more desperate. you turn to face his back—eyes still shut—and reach out to tap at his chiseled, uncovered back.

you whimper, and like a sleeper agent, toji grunts himself awake, head turning left-n-right, confused.

“mmwhat? what?” he grumbles, chest roaring as he shifts to face you.

he reaches out, and you’re glad he takes the initiative to move closer ‘cause you hold onto his arm for dear life, bringing it to your neck like a scarf. his biceps are adamantine even when he’s not flexing them. his calloused hand, immediately cupping your head, is kind.

“bad dream?” he asks in a suspicious tone with a bit of a told ya so meaning. you hook your hands over his muscles, humming.

“not exactly.” you huff shakily. “i have to pee . .”

toji gnaws at his own saliva, voice hoarse from awakening at dawn. “you panicked ‘cause ya have to pee?”

“no, stupid!” you exclaim, a cartoony wobble in your defensive voice. “i can’t go alone . .”

toji scoffs through his nose, hot breath fanning your face. he attempts taking his arm from you to sit up, but the inevitable force of you not letting go causes him to readjust his movement: he wraps both arms around you, unfolding your curled up state, and easily brings you upwards.

“let’s get you potty-trained, then.”

“you’re horrible.” you mumble, yet as soon as you’re scooped from the messy sheets, you vine your limbs around your boyfriend and bore your nose into his shoulder.

“sure . . shit, your heart’s ‘boutta pop out, sweet thing.”

throughout your trip to the bathroom, toji tells you he wasn’t affected by the horrors at all; he kept in mind that it was all acted out, scripted fiction. in fact, there were probably many bloopers and costume-design mishaps when it came to the part that frightened you the most.

waiting for you to finish, he leans against the counter, scratching his ribs, licking the scar across his lips. you apologise for lying about being fine with the genre and he says he doubts it counts as a lie as he pats your head, placing a lazy kiss in your hair.

when you’re carried back to bed, you intertwine to cuddle.

“you gonna be fine, doll?”

“yeah. you’re . . okay with snuggling, right? i know it’s a bit hot for it.”

“heh. you were not this concerned about clinging ‘ta me when we were just fooling around.”

you sigh, defeated, ear pressed against toji’s chest, listening to his much calmer pulse—trying to synchronise your own heartbeat with it.

“hey, now. you’re scared. i get it. if anyone or anything did come out of the screen to haunt you-”

you nestle impossibly closer at just the idea of that.

“. . which is not happening.” he articulates distinctly. “regardless, i would beat the fuck out of them, even in my sleep.”

you hum in understanding, feeling much more content with his raspy voice talking you out of it. “please stay close all night.”

toji nuzzles your side, trimmed nails soothing your skin. it’s silent for a second.

“wanna make sure i do?”

you look up at him, lashes fluttering in question.

“how? do we wear handcuffs, or?”

toji snorts, humoured, and you smile at the reaction you gain. “no. you’d rip me off the bed with the way you can toss around, sweets. i’m thinkin’ about being inside you.”

oh.

“you mean cockwarming?”

“if it needs a name, sure.”

you give it some thought, seconds pass by, and soon toji’s limbs feel heavier around you, meaning he will fall asleep in a blink if you don’t respond now.

“yes. okay.”

“attagirl.”

the sound of sheets ruffling fills the room as toji leisurely gets rid of his sweatpants and you roll down your panties. “lemme prep you, okay?”

you nod definitively—his massive hands meet your thighs that fit his grip like perfect handles. you hook a leg over his waist so he has more access. he continues palming one thigh of yours, other hand hovering over your chest to meet your nipple under his your tee.

you wince at his touch, buckling your crotch onto his abs. a kiss is placed on your forehead, then between your brows, nose, and you lift your chin when you comprehend that he wants to make out. tasting one another’s sugary lips softly, you claw at his chest dully, heaving delicately.

“can i help you, too?”

toji bites your plush lip slowly before answering, “your reactions are enough to get me going, baby. but if you wanna touch, ‘m all yours, yeah?”

“yeah.” you agree instantly. he finds your eagerness adorable.

as you wander down his torso, fingertips appreciating the way he’s carved, his touch between your lega travels to your core, too. he’s truthful—your little whines and so were enough to get him semi-hard. his large cock curves into your small hold impressively. it makes your breath hitch.

“it doesn’t bite.” he teases.

“it can be mean, though.”

true, his stupidly colossal dick has proved itself to be a menace to your cervix a number of times, but right now, its intentions are not entirely carnal. your comfort device will be oh-so-filling and lovely.

you form a fist around his girth. he lets go of your thigh and brings his index fingers to your mouth, “lick them for me.”

you oblige, pink tongue glossing his digits, even attaching your lips onto them. your teeth graze him as he removes his fingers, you’d keep on sucking if you didn’t know the purpose of getting them wet.

toji brings his hand down to seperate your semi-slick folds, tips lightly pressing against your pearly nub, welcoming it in a circular motion. you pant out in pleasure, fist tightening around his cock as you stimulate him so you have him inside you as soon as possible.

his thumb is pushed against your crotch as he cups your cunt, murmuring in satisfaction at your warmth. “you feel relaxed, little one?”

“yes.”

he moans harshly at the way your thumb crease brushes his mushroom tip. you grind onto him again, and shortly after, your flowing arousal makes a squelching noise below toji’s rubs. it’s all so sensual, you almost wish you didn’t have to end the foreplay.

however, when toji reaches down to take his cock from your clutch, positioning himself between your shorter self, the mere surface of his crown lets you know just how good, how fulfilled you’re about to be.

once in position, he grabs your hips—both of your eyes fixated on the contact happening—to help himself sink, sink, sink into your irreplaceable, gooey hole. he grits his teeth behind ajar lips, and as collected as he is, you’re not with your perfect little 0 shaped mouth.

“biiig stretch, fuck-that’s it.”

(you can tell he’s having a hard time refraining from thrusting into you beyond that.)

“oh…” you exhale, feeling compensated. there’s an itch that penetration scratches, especially when it comes to your boyfriend and his glove-fitting size. not having him move or explore your sweet spot is a bit weird for now, though, and your petal-like walls promptly clamp down on him, your body adjusting to the state of being still.

he hisses, “don’t jinx it.”

your eyes open wide and you beg his pardon, “jinx it?! i can’t loosen it. how about you go more limp?”

he looks you dead in the eye, trying hard to keep focused. he looks so serious to the naked eye, it makes you want to laugh, but that would have you squeezing him tighter, so you bring your hand to your mouth to bite your knuckles, pausing your breath.

toji rolls on his back, flipping you onto his chest as you remain smiling. your pooling wetness guarantees him a ludicrous feeling of warmth, and in return, his rock hardness fills you up deliciously.

you lay your head sideways on his chest, fingers sweetly scraping his side as you’re getting used to the sensation.

“you’re so fuckin’ cute.”

you scoff, relaxing as he gifts you by running his fingers through your hair, caressing your scalp. “you’re so handsome, toji.”

he leans down to kiss you, once long, then just a peck for a good night’s sake.

“good night, pretty baby.”

“good night, toji.”

. . .

“shit. we didn’t check under the bed for monsters.” he taunts.

you squeeze.

[kismetlotts]

cw: money kink? Simon is obsessed, Simon loves you spending his money and giving you money, strangers online, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of oral sex, reader streams and goes live a lot, mentions of poor financial situation, Simon yearns, controlling, reader starts an OnlyFans, jealous Simon Riley, mentions of the name 'Daddy'

Simon Riley who barley uses social media and doesn't understand it well. He supposes he’s never really had a proper reason to. Sometimes he would check up on his teammates private lives, see how they are doing when they are away and off duty; sometimes he could be caught watching the odd dog meme video that pops up- earning a small, slither of a smile from the scarred stoic man.

But honestly, he’s never had a reason to bother, no account profile picture or bio and a randomly generated username he wouldn't know how to change even if he wanted to. Most of the time he would have two or three followers and always one of them was someone he had no idea of.

He never had a reason to give a shit about the online world, not until he saw you.

Sat at your desk, eyes sparkling under your warm ceiling light. Eagerly reading the chat-box at the bottom of your stream as you answered peoples questions with genuine interest. Your smile made his chest burn hot and his eyes caught notice of your fingers fidgeting with your hair. You were stunning, absolutely fucking breathtaking and Simon couldn't get enough; he needed you.

He would join every single live, not messaging or saying anything to you but just watching and suffocating in silence. He wouldn't miss the way you licked your lips wet and chewed on your lower lip as you waited for more people to join. If it wasn't for his expertise in self control he would've been fisting his cock to the sight of you.

He would have you full blast on his phone as he pottered around his house, your angelic voice singing out words of ecstasy through the cold empty walls like you were there with him. His precious little sweetheart, living with him in his head and in his home. Who would've thought a stranger like you could mess someone like Simon up this fucking badly?

He learnt things about you, jotting them down in the notebook of his brain. Learnt the places you wanted to travel to and experiences you wanted to live- and found himself wanting to be beside you: witnessing it first hand. He found himself for the first time in years wanting to live and not just survive.

Despite his toll of silence, you didn't miss the way he was always there. Checking the viewer count to see his account right at the top as per usual. Time didn't seem to matter either, when you had woken up at early in the morning and decided to go live out of boredom- he was there. In the middle of the day when you were on your lunch break, ragged looking earphones trailing out your ear as you whispered into the microphone at the back of the café, he was there watching. He was always there and it felt strange.

In honesty, his consistency petrified you. You knew it was all in your head but the nagging feeling that it was one of your fucked up, clingy exes, still keeping tabs on you despite going your separate ways, made you sick. Hoping was all you could ever do because you wouldn't dream of confronting the mysterious account that was watching, lingering and following you every second your phone was powered on. It was highly unlikely to be anyone you knew and you weren't entirely sure if that was for better or worse.

When your first couple of donations rolled in, you didn't know what to say. Smiling and thanking the donators by name as your cheeks heated up.

You never asked for money or pleaded for donations; the option was always there if people wanted to. You certainly weren't going to beg or come across as a 'money hungry' but some extra cash on the side was definitely not a bad idea. The fact that people were so generous and kind to donating pennies and pieces to help reach the goal of buying your own place. It wasn't much people were sending in but every little help strangers would accompany you with, made you realise the world wasn't so selfish after all: and when Simon noticed this. He reached for his card.

Hundreds, multiple hundreds and it was just a ridiculous amount of money that piled in from his account. It was the first time you had seen him interact with you aside from liking your content or watching your streams- what the fuck were you supposed to say? Your eyes would lock onto the screen, mouth slightly agape revealing your wet tongue as you tried to find the words. Simon fucking groaned.

The blank, grey profile picture looked back at you with numbers you couldn't comprehend attached to it. Simon was helping you tremendously and despite your gratefulness you couldn't help but end your stream- guilt surfacing in your throat because that was a lot of money to be handing away to a stranger. It felt rude taking it, you were scared to take it- it felt like borrowed money not gifted money because who sends someone that amount of cash. Who in their right fucking mind?

The worst part was he didn't stop there- in honesty, watching how fogged your mind got and watching the way you struggled for words- he couldn't find himself able to stop. It was a high for him, he wanted to give you everything you wanted.

He would crack his neck, a moan falling from his lips as he clicked on your live with a grin. Adrenaline fuelling his body as he sent more, and more, and more until he heard the shake in your voice. 'Stop' falling from your lips between nervous giggles and he knew you meant it, feeling his heart ricochet in his chest but still, he continued.

The mental aspect of the situation had led you to taking a short break off of streaming, you were sure he wasn't some crazy ex from the amount of money he had given you and the realisation it was some random stranger always being there instead, didn't make you as uncomfortable as you thought it would've. He was probably some old man with a fetish for seeing some girl like you everyday and spoiling you. The worst case scenario was that he could be a stalker or a murderer who had taken a liking into you- but even then you were highly careful of what you let slip online and who could be out there.

It was difficult, you wanted him to leave as much as you wanted him to stay- you couldn't block him after he had spent all that money on you and as much as you wished he wouldn’t have done that: it was very helpful.

A good few weeks had past since you had uploaded and you figured that he would be onto some other girl by now. Splashing the cash for some supermodel look alike as he whispers into her microphone things that drive men wild. But of course that wasn't the case.

Simon was going fucking haywire. He couldn't sleep without hearing your muffled little voice in his dreams, your sleeping little face and messed up hair with your tantalisingly lowcut pyjamas, where were you? Where had you disappeared to? He would check your account religiously, just in case you posted and his notification didn't go off. He had googled ways to tell if he had been blocked- but the reality of the situation was that you had just became inactive.

It made his lungs ache and knees weak without hearing your voice daily- just old videos he had re-watched over and over again. Your absence worried him and it worried himself with how badly he was getting attached to you. His days felt like months, his strong demeanour replaced by one that was moping and mourning. Jesus- you weren't fucking dead. If you were fucking dead he would ruin whatever stole you from him. Was this stalker like behaviour? Was he being a fucking loser for worrying about you?

Upon your return you had decided to create a dreaded OnlyFans account. It was just to raise money and you weren't expecting to blow up into some massive porn star earing millions from sex work- you kept it pretty downlow. It was as much humiliating as it was necessary- without Simon there to send you hundreds of pounds, you needed the extra pay for groceries and rent money. Plus- it seemed everyone your age was doing it so what was the harm? You uploaded a quick video to promote your new account, posted it and sat down at your one seat table.

The cold of the wooden chair hitting your thighs and the dim lights of your kitchen made you realise how tiny your apartment was. Even for one person you felt like you were incarcerated- stuck in a prison cell but you couldn't afford to leave yet. The sound of your swallow echoing into the silence as you finished up your instant ramen- humming in satisfaction as your phone hummed to. You picked it up, your stomach turning cold as a message request came through.

How much to delete your OnlyFans Account?

Simon was fucking seething. Posting your tits- your body, that little mouth of yours sucking on objects that weren't his cock for other men to see? For other men to pay for? He almost cracked his phone when he opened your notification to that and he would've if it wasn't for his urgency to get you to delete your account. He had heard of OnlyFans, he wasn't daft and you were coming off there whether you liked it or not.

Your heart stuttered seeing the familiar account and a scoff of shock fell from your lips. He hadn't forgotten you after all. The mysterious account had finally broke his silence and your stomach fluttered with feeling you couldn't make sense of. He hadn't moved on from you, he couldn't move on from you- should you be weirded out by this?

Sorry?

How much to delete your OnlyFans Account. Now?

The pulse in your vein throbbed as you finally made sense of his question. The giddy feeling from earlier at the realisation he was waiting for you, subsided into thick strings of anxiety. Hypothetically, if you had run your account on there for a good few months, posting regularly and having a handful of subscribers- you would bring home a good portion of money to save up. You couldn't ask him for a lot of money- especially after all the money he had already gave but you couldn't delete your account for little to nothing. So, you took the time to nicely write back to him and explain your financial situation to him. Explaining how you need to money to help save for a future house- that you need food and necessities and that your shitty job doesn't pay you enough.

The chat fell silent, Simon began to type and then stopped- disappearing and you shut your phone off worried you had either overshared and accidently unloaded everything onto him or upset him.

I mean- you didn't owe him anything- he donated all that money to you on his behalf but you couldn't help the niggling feeling of regret and shame that you had offended someone so nice that had done so much for you. You told yourself that he was still probably some creep, some fucked up pervert that probably only watched for one thing. But if that was the case, why would he be against your OnlyFans? Maybe you read him wrong- or maybe he wanted you all for himself.

You felt your phone ping again, opening the chat to a payment of multiple thousands.

This your spending money for food and whatever else you want. And I can buy you a house darling, don't you worry.

The high numbers full your screen and you blinked. Your head unable to comprehend if this was real or not. A whole house? Spending money? Was this guy fucking rich? He obviously had money to give away willingly so there was no doubt he was rich. But still though, did he not have a family to spend this money on- or anything better to do with it? Without properly thinking you typed back your response, sitting back on your chair as your eyes darted around your small apartment. Was he deadly serious about buying you a house?- Who were you kidding, of course he was serious.

Are you a sugar daddy or something?

Simons concrete façade broke as he snorted, reading your message. Imagining your sweet, pretty, intoxicating voice reading it out to him while he melts and loses himself in you. He should just send you his card and bank details- he should just send you all of his fucking money and spoil you absolutely rotten. He would give you anything you wanted- he would let you walk all over him and drain his fucking account. The thought of you all dolled up, new shoes, new clothes, new perfume. The thought of you comfortable, clean and fed- fuck he had never felt this horny and desperate before. He fisted his cock through his jeans as he sat up on his couch, stretching and adjusting a little before looking back down at the message. Fingers typing back a reply before plopping his phone down beside him.

Not a sugar daddy, I just like your smile, Sunshine.

But if you really wanted to call me daddy, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea.

[taintandviolent]

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[delicatelymorbid]

Oblivious Feelings

Synopsis - your hidden feelings for ellie had been an untamable headache, so when your friend kat asked for you to hook her up with ellie, hiding those feelings became difficult

Includes - switch!ellie x switch!reader, !!!!yearning!!!!, jealous reader and ellie likes it a little too much, clingy ellie, strap usage r!receiving, SMUT WITH PLOT

Notes - not really proofread, sorry gals but i give you all kisses and hope you enjoy

You and Ellie were close friends, but lately you’d been utterly confused with your feelings. Your glances towards her were turning to longing and yearning stares that would haunt your dreams. Her stupid green eyes and infuriating, pretty freckles would linger in your mind—uninvited. Her stupid and mesmerizing tone would roll off your back in ways nothing else could. The slight rasp that would fall from her pretty lips would send your heart hammering.

It was torture.

But right now, none of it mattered. Because right now, you were watching her from afar at this stupid winter gathering and everything around you blended into her. The gathering actually wasn’t stupid; you were happy and excited to see all your friends and loved ones. But, it was unbearably stupid because of your stupid feelings for a stupid, nerdy girl that made you feel stupid. It was all just fucking stupid.

On the opposite side of the room, Ellie spotted you the second you got there. She hadn’t seen you all day since she had been busy with Joel, so her chest couldn’t help but tighten at the sight of you. She awkwardly ran her finger over the rim of her drink, clearing her throat and fidgeting in her space as she sighed, thinking.

Ellie was conflicted. She couldn’t help but notice the effect you had on her entire being. Your mere presence made her skin light on fire and her brain melt into mush. Your pretty smile and pretty laugh would turn up the corners of her mouth without her permission. Your gorgeous eyes would captivate her in ways like nothing else. It was no doubt that Ellie welcomed her feelings for you. However, Ellie was petrified at the possibility of you never liking her, or rather you not being capable of liking girls.

Ellie never brought it up. Ever. She thinks she’s had this lingering crush on you since you met, but I mean who could blame her. You were wonderful, intoxicatingly kind. You made her boast with love, so there’s no reason why she wouldn’t attract towards you. But, topic of sexuality brought a bad taste to Ellie’s mouth. Not only because of bigoted idiots, but also for rejection. She knew she could trust you, she just didn’t know if she could love you.

You were chatting with your friend, Kat, at the dance. You two weren’t that close but knew each other well enough. As she spoke to you, you every once in a while glanced at Ellie. When you two finally saw each other the same time, you exchanged a warming smile that made you both blush.

Kat began to ramble on, but then looked a little nervous as she was rummaging up the courage to ask you something.

“Hey, I have an odd question,” she asked as she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows at you gently.

“Yeah?” you replied softly, no idea as to what she was going to ask.

“You… You’re, uh, friends with Ellie—that’s her name right? The girl with the short brown hair?” she asked.

Auburn.

“Uh, yeah how come? The one over there right?” you reply tightly, nudging your head to the direction of the bar where Ellie sat, chatting with some random.

Kat’s face lit up and she nodded at you, “Yeah… I’ve been meaning to ask if you know if she’s single. Or, could you… I dunno, try to talk me up to her,” she laughed awkwardly, a small gleam in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart ache. Maybe it was the jealousy, or maybe it was the sadness you felt while looking at Kat’s evident romantic interest. The pit in your stomach couldn’t help but feed off your doubt on Ellie; what if she didn’t like you? What if she would like Kat, and not you? It ate at your chest but you smiled at her warmly and nodded. It wasn’t Kat’s fault after all.

“No, yeah, of course!” you softly say with a weak smile. “I’ll go talk to her now,” you nod.

Kat’s smile beams at you and you have to hold back from throwing up. Not literally, but you did feel sick.

You then walked away from her and made your way to Ellie, each step feeling like you were going towards your impending doom.

But all of it sort of washed away with the currents as she turned from her seat and locked eyes with you, smiling softly and looking down at her drink. Your brain felt a little fuzzy as you got closer to her, and eventually you leaned up on the bar, standing next to her as she sat.

“Hi, Ells,” you murmur as you look crookedly at her.

“Hi,” Ellie replied as she leaned on the bar, mirroring you. “Me and Joel missed you today,” she mumbled shyly.

“Yeah? Missed you too,” you say softly as you nudge your elbow gently into her.

You sighed and studied her, watching how her lashes kissed her cheeks and how her hair loosely fell from her messy bun that struggled to stay put.

“My friend thinks you’re cute. She, uh, she asked me to see if you were interested,” you mutter, standing up straight to lean your side against the bar, picking at your nails.

This caught Ellie off guard and she sat up straight, too. Those pretty eyes giving you a confused glance as her brows furrowed, “Who?”

“Kat. That blonde over there,” you say while nudging your head in the direction of Kat, making Ellie’s eyes fall onto a girl with a shy smile, causing Ellie to nod with a tight one in return.

Ellie looked back to you, almost cautiously. “You, uh, you told her I’d be interested?” she asked, seemingly nervous.

Your eyes snapped to hers and you pursed your lips, “I mean, no. I said I’d tell you about her. That’s all really. Why?” you ask ask as your eyes get a little soft, “Would you be interested?”

Ellie noticed your tone and aspect slightly shift, but she couldn’t understand why. Did you not like Kat? Did you think Ellie wasn’t good enough for Kat?

“Well—” Ellie scoffed, “I mean, shit, I dunno. I don’t really know her,” she murmured. “Nah, I don’t… Yeah I don’t think I’m interested. Tell her I’m sorry,” she said after thinking.

This piqued your interest.

“How come?” you asked with a raised brow.

Ellie furrowed her brows at you and turned to look at you, “What do you mean ‘how come’? Do you want me to go over there?” she asked, her tone getting a little snippy.

“Well…” you scoff, looking back at Kat who was now lost in conversation with someone. “No,” you mumble after thinking about how Ellie would look standing next to her, the thought making your head hurt.

This piqued Ellie’s curiosity.

“Why not?” she asked, turning in her bar chair to rest a hand on her knee, looking for your eyes.

You shrug and glance between her eyes, not knowing what to say. “I dunno. She’s… annoying I guess.”

“You guess?” Ellie asked deadpanned, dropping her head slightly to look at you. “Why don’t you want me over there?” she asked softly.

You narrowed your eyes, getting slightly flustered at the direct questions, especially as they got closer to the truth of it all: your feelings for Ellie.

“Well if you wanna be over there with her so badly then you can. I’m not stopping you,” you say as you straighten up, no longer leaning on the bar as you slightly glare at her.

Ellie scoffed and nodded, “Right, right. Forget about it,” she muttered before turning away from you and focusing back on her drink, leaving you alone right beside her.

You sigh and flex your fist, walking away from the bar towards the other end of the place, wanting to go back to your friends. You eventually found Dina and Jesse, spending the rest of the evening with them, sharing laughs and drinks as the music and love from everyone surrounded the air. It was serene, it was everything you needed.

That was until your eyes found their way to the bar, seeing that familiar blonde standing a little too close to Ellie. You squinted, making out Kat’s slightly arched back as she leaned against the bar, leaning against her hand as she spoke to Ellie. Ellie’s drink was empty and she looked interested in the conversation and it made you sick. You knew you shouldn’t have fucking said anything. You cursed under your breath and downed your drink, setting it down on the table before looking back at the bar and this time, Ellie’s green eyes were boring into you as Kat rambled on. Your expression faltered as everyone except the two of you drowned out of the room, and Ellie’s curious expression made you scold. She furrowed her brows at you, as if trying to figure out what the hell was the matter with you.

It angered you. It drove you mad that Ellie knew you completely inside and out. She knew how to comfort you, she knew how to read you. She was so goddamn perfect and it made you feel insane. You loved her so much and she had no fucking clue. You hated it.

You shook your head slightly and darted your eyes away from her, snapping back into reality and grabbing your jacket before saying bye to Jesse and Dina, sneaking your way out the doors before anyone—Ellie—could question it.

Luckily for you, your house isn’t that far of a walk and soon enough you were in the comforting warmth of your home. Your cat, Mochi, greeted you sweetly as you walked through the door. You set your things down and stood in the middle of your kitchen, hands on your hips as you thought long and hard. You thought of Ellie laughing at Kat’s jokes. You thought how sweet Ellie would taste with her lingering alcohol on her pretty lips. You thought how only your mind would be the place those things could occur. You scoffed and opened your fridge, grabbing a water before nearly slamming the door shut and going to your couch, pinching the bridge of your nose as you leaned your head back, cursing yourself for your feelings.

Then, three quick knocks were made on your door and you sighed, knowing damn well who it was. You set your water down and got up, slowly making your way over before turning the knob and seeing Ellie on your porch, hands stuffed in her pockets as she looked at you worriedly.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked, her tone slightly sad but mostly confused.

“What? No, why would I be mad at you?” you reply instantly, opening the door wider as you looked at her with an expression that made her melt.

You were so good with her, she melted every time you reassured her, especially when you looked at her as if she were stupid for thinking whatever crazy thoughts she had.

“I dunno… You seemed mad. I was just messing with you, y’know? I… I didn’t wanna make you mad,” she murmured, referring to her questions regarding Kat earlier at the bar.

You sighed and rubbed your face, nodding, “I know, Ells. Come in,” you softly say, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and barely pulling her inside.

Ellie didn’t walk in far, she stopped right in front of you leaving little space as you closed your door and looked at her.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m sorry for being mean,” you mumbled, slightly pink cheeks showing your embarrassment and it made Ellie shake her head.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” Ellie asked gently, looking for your eyes as she wanted to fix whatever was wrong.

“No! You’re good, we’re good! I’m sorry! Things are just, a lot for me right now. I shouldn’t have acted like that and… yeah,” you sigh as you struggle to keep your eyes on her.

“Hey, there’s nothing to apologize for, ‘kay? What’s going on? Talk to me,” she murmured, stepping slightly closer to you as her voice got low and gentle.

Her eyes and soft tone coaxed you in ways nothing else could and you were convinced this was why you fell for her. Ellie was so patient with you, taking every action in deep thought before acting with you. She took care of you like no one else, and it made you feel so fucking loved. You adored her for it.

You blinked and shook your head slightly, whispering, “Nothing’s going on,” trying to not burden her with your feelings.

Ellie shook her head immediately as she wasn’t feeding onto your bullshit and she mumbled, “No, don’t do that. Cmon, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want you upset.”

You sighed and shrugged, not knowing how to say it. Not knowing how to tell the girl that you’re in love with that you’re in love with her. She was so beautiful and perfect and smart and funny and kind and soft and calming. You hoped with every fiber in your being that she felt even the slightest same as you did. You might die if she didn’t.

“I’m not upset, I’m sorry. It’s just… I dunno. I guess I got… irked by Kat.” you said, embarrassment flushing your cheeks as you looked away from Ellie, too flustered and in your head to make eye contact.

“Irked?” Ellie repeated with a raised brow. “What exactly does that mean, sweetheart?” she asked softly, making your head spin but your expression was deadpanned.

“Fuck, Ellie, I dunno, what do you think it means?” you said sarcastically, your frustration rising as you felt cornered with all these damn questions and that fucking sweet nickname.

Her jaw twitched and she studied you, trying to decipher the little information you gave to piece it together.

“So, you don’t… like Kat is what I’ve gathered. And you don’t want me with her?” she asked, taking it slow with you and truly trying to figure it out.

You gnawed on your lip and nodded slightly, “Yeah. I guess,” you mumbled.

She tilted her head and you nearly fainted.

“Can I ask why?” she asked gently, the words coming out like soft kisses as she didn’t wanna ruin whatever was happening. She wanted you to open up.

“She just… you know,” you say strained, crossing your arms as you shrug.

“No, sweetheart, I don’t know that’s why I’m asking. Is it just Kat in general?”

You shook your head and pursed your lips, “No, not exactly. I just, y’know, I guess there’s better for you. I guess.” you say, an awkward expression on your aspect causing Ellie to furrow her brows.

Ellie rose a brow and silently absorbed your words and expression, trying to not overthink this. Were you the ‘better’? She wanted you to be, but you’ve never insinuated that you liked her, nevertheless liked girls in general. But, she couldn’t help but read into your frustrated sighs. How close she got and how you didn’t back away. The way your hands flexed when she spoke to you lowly and intimately. How your cheeks stained red when she said she missed you. Ellie wanted this so badly, but she didn’t want to mess it up.

“I need you to be more specific with me, baby,” she said soft and raspy, almost as if she were begging for it.

You nearly grunted at the petname, instead sighing sharply and looking down at the ground, “Ellie I can’t,” you huff.

She tilted her head, as if she understood. Finally.

“I don’t… Sweetheart, I don’t wanna mess anything up. I don’t wanna interpret this for something that it’s not,” she said gently, keeping the small distance there between the two of you.

You slowly look up at her and she nearly gave out, those damn eyes making her melt and her breathing slightly staggered.

“I just… got jealous. I don’t want you with anyone else, not just Kat. I don’t want you with anyone,” you say softly.

“Why not?” she asked, lifting her chin and narrowing her eyes with a slight tilt to her head, making you feel hot under her gaze.

“Because,” you say stubbornly, “Why are you making me do this?” you grit through your teeth.

She knew you hated to verbalize your feelings and this felt like complete torture. However, it was also torture for Ellie. She had no fucking clue what you were thinking, and she hoped with every bone in her body that you were trying to say that you liked her.

“Because I’m not a fucking mind reader and I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can understand,” she huffed as she took a step forward.

You couldn’t argue but you rolled your eyes and put your hands on your hips, looking away from her. “For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, “I don’t want you with anyone because I want you with me,” you ramble out as quickly as possible, avoiding her gaze as your cheeks reddened. You hated that she got you to speak your mind so easily. She had you wrapped around her finger.

She froze, staring at you and staying silent as you kept your eyes away from her. “Look at me,” and you sure as hell did. “You want me to be with you? You want us?” she asked, her voice strained as if she were hurt while asking.

You nod and straighten, dropping your hands to your side as you look at her, “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I… I didn’t wanna tell you, I don’t wanna mess anything up. I’m sorry, I just hate seeing you with other people because I can’t stand the fact that you’re not with me,” the words slightly died in your throat, though after looking at Ellie.

As you spoke, Ellie’s eyes said enough for her and you felt timid. You felt like you did the wrong thing. She looked at you as if you spoke Latin and you shrank in your spot. You definitely fucked up.

Silence fell between the two of you and the embarrassment nearly consumed you, causing you to frown slightly. “Can you please say something?” you asked gently, the words coming out sad and regretful.

Ellie nodded, stepping forward before grabbing your head in her hands and brushing your hair out of your face, walking into you until your back gently met the wall.

“Don’t ever be sorry for wanting to be with me,” she breathed out before leaning forward and connecting her lips to yours, as if your two bodies had been apart for millions of years, waiting to be reunited. “Don’t be sorry for being jealous,” she mumbled against your mouth before kissing the corner of your mouth, one hand snaking down to your jaw to maneuver your head as she pleased. She kissed your cheek and mumbled, “The only thing you need to be sorry for is keeping this from me,” she almost sounded a little angry, pressing into you more and kissing your lips, this time with a little more force to express her feelings. 

You shivered, whimpering slightly into her mouth as she pressed you into the wall, your brain melting in her hold.

“How could you keep this from me?” Ellie hissed, kissing all over your jaw as her mind was on fire. Years of waiting and watching you, all leading up to now. She couldn’t take it. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to fucking do this? How many times I’ve dreamed of you?”

You gasped, shaking your head and furrowing your brows like a puppy at her and she nearly devoured you at the sight. “‘M sorry, Ells,” you mumbled.

She released a staggered sigh, “And that fucking nickname,” she hissed, leaning back into you to kiss your mouth, a moan leaving her mouth and leaking into yours.

You mewled, everything happening too quickly for your brain to keep up but your lips had a mind of their own as they moved with Ellie, earning you soft moans from her.

You broke away, shaking your head and she followed you with her mouth, her gaze low and focused solely on your lips now that she finally had a taste.

She leaned into you again, but you stopped her and she grunted, “Let me kiss you,” she murmured.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” you rambled out, flattening your hand on her chest, making her look down at your hand with an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?” she muttered.

You scoffed and nearly laughed, “Yes! Just wait a damn second,” you spoke through a giggle.

You sighed, looking all over her face, feeling flustered under her gaze as her eyes were low.

“You look pretty,” you said breathless, making Ellie drop her head and sigh.

“Baby, I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was fucking thirteen. Can you let me get what I want?” she muttered, slightly strained as she leaned in to smell your neck. She gently stuck out her tongue and glided it, kissing your pulse, causing your brows to knit in pleasure.

“Yeah,” you whispered, leaning your head back against the all as your hand found its way to her hair, undoing her bun to tug on her roots.

“Were you jealous of Kat?” Ellie rasped out, sort of out of the blue and it caused you to snap your eyes to her in confusion.

“What?” you ask in a haze.

“Were you jealous?” she repeated, this time leaning down to kiss over your collarbone as she found her thigh between your legs.

“I… I dunno, I guess so,” you mumble, not wanting to admit it as the embarrassment was evident on your face.

“Tell me,” she rasped, her tone getting more strained by the second as she pressed into you. Her moves were getting fervent and you felt hot.

You looked at Ellie and thought for a second, noticing her demeanor shift. “Are you getting fucking turned on by that? Do you like the fact that I was jealous and I didn’t want Kat near you?” you slightly grit through your teeth, your breathing sharp as you looked at Ellie with hazy eyes.

She looked up at you through her lashes, her lip dragging on your throat as she let up.

“Maybe,” she said softly, tilting her head and pouting at you, “It’s cute.”

“It’s slutty,” you countered, making her blush way more than it should’ve. “You want me to be jealous over you?” you ask, tone dropping in a way that made Ellie nervous.

“No… not necessarily, I just… think it’s hot that you were possessive ‘n shit,” she spoke gently, hands going to your waist to try and seem smaller than she was.

Your eyes slightly sparkled and your lashes fluttered, digesting her words. Ellie watched you, wanting to connect your lips again but waiting for your initiative, not knowing if she turned you off.

“Is that weird?” she asked softly, her fingers snaking under your shirt to touch your warm skin, her hands fitting perfectly on your hips.

You shook your head in response, swallowing dryly before wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in, “No, I really like that, even though I shouldn’t,” you murmured as you pulled her in to kiss her, going slow and attentive, making Ellie whimper into your mouth.

You deepened the kiss, dipping your tongue into her mouth and you felt her grip on you tighten in response. Her pretty sounds made your stomach turn and you could feel yourself get wet, and she herself. You got more handsy, pulling her hair harder than you intended, earning you a pretty moan from Ellie. You turned and pressed her against the wall, shoving your thigh between her legs and bringing your hands down to her hips, squeezing the flesh and guiding her to a rhythm on your leg. She gasped, breaking the kiss to look at you like a pretty puppy. You could tell something had shifted, almost as if no one had controlled her like that, or at least no one had done it correctly. Her eyes lit up and her lips parted, a pathetic whimper leaving her mouth as her hands went to your arms, holding onto you.

“What’re you doing?” she mumbled, her hips moving against your thigh in a slow pace.

“You don’t like it?” you tease, tilting your head at her, asking for a response.

She whined, not liking your condescending tone but she still nodded, “I do,” she muttered shyly.

You nodded, watching her pretty face change for every movement made her feel something different. Not to mention, your mocking tone made her head dizzy.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you say breathlessly before leaning down to catch her mouth in a rough kiss.

You broke away, grabbing Ellie’s hand and taking her back to your room, shutting the door and immediately pressing her against it, your movements fast and rushed as you kissed her. Your hands were angsty, running all over her body as you grabbed handfuls of her shirt, pulling her into you. She then backed off the door, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit your bed and she gently pushed you down, laying on top of you now.

“Slow down,” she murmured before going to your neck, immediately finding your sweet spot with her tongue, causing your face to twist in pleasure.

“Shut up,” you sighed, grabbing her and turning her onto her back on your bed, straddling her hips as you slowly began to grind on her, throwing your head back as you pressed your hands onto her chest, stopping her from sitting up.

“Let me kiss you,” she begged, taking one of your hands to her mouth, kissing your palm gently.

“Let me use you,” you breathed out, looking down at her and seeing how her face fell, taking the opportunity to gently insert your fingers into her mouth, making her suck on them. You smiled, watching her composure slip as her eyes slightly rolled back with your fingers in her mouth, “There she is,” you softly praise.

Ellie’s eyes darkened and she furrowed her brows at your words, feeling like a slut underneath you with your fingers in her mouth. You were toying with her and she liked it. Fuck. Ellie blushed at the sight of a pretty girl on top of her, grinding on her and bossing her around. It was a total wet dream come true.

You lean down, kissing the corner of her mouth as she continued to suck on your fingers, it almost being a mocking gesture since she couldn’t kiss you back. She whined, you cooed, and the both of you blushed.

“You look pretty like this, letting me do whatever I want,” you breathed out, rolling your hips against her torso and rubbing against your clit through your pants, making you arch your back. “Ellie,” you moan out breathily.

“Fuck… yeah?” she responded, her voice strained as your fingers lazily left her mouth, your hand finding its way to her throat.

“Need to fuck you,” you mumble, slowing your movements as you lean over to your drawer and stumble in it, eventually getting out a… strap?

Ellie’s brows furrowed and she looked at what you had, “What is that?” she said asked softly before sitting up and holding you in her lap. “You want me to wear that?” she asked with a raised brow as she looked between you and the toy.

You were horny. Needy. “Well, yes. But, I wanna… fuck myself on you. Ride you, is what I mean,” you mutter, kissing her cheek as she was close to you.

She grunted and nodded, “Okay, fuck, baby,” she breathed out as she gripped your hips and buried herself in your neck, kissing all over you.

“Take these off,” you murmured, tugging at her belt loops and slowly crawling off of her to sit on your haunches on your mattress, watching her with soft eyes.

Ellie moved frantically, almost making you laugh as she nearly tumbled as she yanked off her jeans. She stood up before you, looking down at you and tucking your hair behind your ear as you started to help her put the strap on. She finished the job, leaning down to kiss you softly, pushing you back onto the mattress so she could lay down beside you. You scooted out of the way, kissing her gently before taking off your top, causing Ellie’s breaths to go sharp.

She reached out, laying out her fingers on your tummy under your ribs before leaning forward to kiss your stomach, “Can I?” she muttered, her fingers toying with the hem of your bra and you nodded. You turned around and felt her hands ghost over your back until she lifted your bra, sitting up to kiss in between your shoulder blades.

Her movements were soft, attentive. Fire laid in her fingers’ wake as she raked down your skin, touching you and mesmerizing how you shivered under her hand. Her mouth kissed your spine but was felt across your entire being, your heart nearly breaking through your chest.

“So pretty,” she murmured, causing you to turn and look back at her, meeting her green eyes in a moment of intimacy that made you melt.

You turned around, cupping her head in your hands and kissing her softly, moving your body to straddle over her. Her hands went to your waist to help you settle, wanting you to be comfortable.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay, Baby?” she muttered, breaking the kiss to bring one hand to your face, moving your hair out of the way to lock on your eyes.

You nod, “You too, pretty girl,” you spoke, leaning down to kiss her and she leaned up to meet you.

“Are you sure?” she mumbled, kissing your jaw and holding your waist with her arm.

You smiled, your heart gushing at how she wanted you to feel good and it turning you on even though it was innocent.

“Yes, I’m sure. Are you?” you mutter, leaning up to get a good look at your girl, watching her nod immediately as she licked her lips.

“Yeah, no, yeah. I’m… Fuck, yeah. I’m—yeah,” she rambled out, causing you to softly laugh as you leaned down to kiss her again.

“Okay, pretty girl, I’m gonna start, okay? Just relax for me, sweetheart,” you say, your words coaxing Ellie and causing her brows to knit slightly due to the petnames.

You then sat up, reaching between your legs to center yourself before looking at Ellie, almost in disbelief at the sight.

Ellie was in awe at the sight of you, nearly itching to thrust her hips up to get in the first move but she knew better, and she knew you’d know how to feel good on her. Her hands went to touch you, one on your waist, gentle fingers soothing you and the other hand went to grope your tit, your nipple pinched between her fingers.

You then sank down, just the tip causing you to gasp and Ellie’s breath mirrored yours, watching you swallow the toy slowly caused her to groan.

You watched her, how her brows knitted and how her eyes got low and dark for every inch that disappeared.

“Atta girl,” she breathed out, making you curse under your breath. “Feels good?” she asks, making you shake your head as you sank all the way down.

“Shut up,” you breathed out, settling yourself to accommodate to the stretch.

“What was that?” she asked, her hips bucking up slightly in a teasing manner.

You leaned forward, digging your nails into her torso to whimper, “Fuck, that’s not fair,” you mumble before moving your hips, making Ellie moan at the sight.

“There you go, Baby, fuck yourself just like that,” she whispered, making your mouth form an ‘o’ shape as she spoke to you. “My cock feel good, Love?” she drawled out, her hips meeting yours in an agonizingly slow pace.

Every movement was felt inside you and you struggled to respond, it being too much but you nodded and moaned out, “Yes, fuck, yeah,” it almost sounding like a cry.

“Yeah, Baby, it’s okay. No one ever fucked my girl this good, huh? There you go, Sweetheart, just like that,” she gritted out, her hands going to your ass to grope as she helped you go up and down, watching your face twist in pleasure. “Let it out, feel good for me.”

You nodded, going faster and letting moans leave your mouth. As you picked up your pace, the harness began to rub against Ellie’s clit and she moaned, making you turn red. Hearing her made you nearly faint and your eyes sparkled, wanting to hear more of it. Making it your goal, actually.

“You like watching me fuck myself on your cock, Baby?” you breathed out, watching Ellie throw her head back at your words. Her fingers dug into your skin and one hand going between your legs to rub your clit. The pressure caused your spine to arch and your hand went to her throat, squeezing.

“F— Fuck, fuck, Fuck,” she moaned out, her brain melting as she watched you, it being too much for her. Her clit ached and she wanted more, her hips bucking faster out of her control.

Your eyes rolled back and Ellie grunted, going faster on your clit as seeing you turned on made her ten times hornier.

“Fucking me so nice, Ells,” you whined, it feeling good as you both moved to make the other feel good. “Can… can you cum with me?” you breathed out, struggling to form words.

She scoffed, biting down on her lip, “Tryin’, Sweet girl,” she grunted, “Tryin’ to not cum before you,” she admitted, looking up at you as you moaned from hearing her words.

“‘M close,” you cried out, her fingers circling you clit and her words dragging you close, almost too close to ecstasy.

“Cmon, Baby, give it to me. Cum on my cock. Please? Please, Baby, I want it so bad please give it to me,” she began to whine, causing your jaw to drop at her change in tone and change in aspect.

Her begging you to cum? Fuck.

“Ellie,” you grunted, your hips’ movements going sloppy but she didn’t let up; she made up for what you lacked and she fucked up into you, wanting to make you cum so badly.

“Please, please, give it to me. Just for me, I’ve been so good for you, Love, just cum for me? Please?” she whimpered, the pleasure reaching her too and you leaned down to her without thinking, kissing her messily as the hand around her throat squeezed again, making her moan roughly into your mouth.

“Fuck!” you cried out, “Right there, fuck, Ellie, christ!” and your thighs closed around her waist, signaling Ellie that you were cumming.

She let herself go too, allowing herself to cum at the same time as you and the both of you cried out a harmony of whines and moans. She caught your lips in a kiss and swallowed your sounds, her hips staggering as you began to whimper from overstimulation.

You pinned her wrists, digging yourself into her to stop her movements so you could slowly ride it out for the both of you.

She shook her head, her clit sore and she begged you to stop under her breath and you obliged, slowing to a stop as you buried yourself in her neck, kissing her skin. You throbbed against the toy inside you and you kissed under her jaw.

“You… So good,” you whispered, making her smile and nod, bringing your hand to interlock your fingers as she kissed your wrist.

“You were good too, Baby. Did you feel good?” she asked softly, gently brushing your hair out of your face as she smiled at your fucked out state.

You hum, “Mhm,” as you rise and gasp at the loss of the feeling of her inside you.

You help her take off the harness, putting it on your dresser before going back to her. You brought your blanket over the both of you and you lay your head beside her. You both watched each other, her hand rising to your face, her fingers gently tracing the characteristics of your face, trying to memorize every dip and edge of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered.

You turned your hand to kiss her palm and you scooted closer, wrapping your arm around her stomach before kissing her mouth, the act being soft and loving.

“Stay with me,” you whispered, looking at her with eyes she could drown in endlessly, never caring how many times she died for it would be worth it.

She nodded, leaning in to kiss you before murmuring, “Always.”

[kathaelipwse]

"Keep Writing Sweetheart" | C.Seungcheol

Warnings: Explicit Language (MDNI 18+) | Heavy Teasing | Suggestive | Seungcheol Being a Menace Synopsis: You never thought your little Seungcheol thirst blog on tumblr would catch his attention—until it did. A simple fan meet turns into the most humiliating, exhilarating, and downright sinful encounter of your life. Now, with your sanity hanging by a thread. One question remains: How the hell did Choi Seungcheol find your filthy smut? Word Count: 1.5K Author's Note: This started as a delulu thought and spiraled into absolute chaos. Seungcheol is filthy, cocky, and entirely too powerful, and I refuse to be normal about it. Enjoy suffering.

You were a seasoned veteran in the chaotic realm of Seungcheol fanfiction. Your Tumblr blog, a veritable altar of carnal devotion, had recently exploded, hitting 10K followers—a milestone you celebrated with a brazen face reveal.

A simple selfie, captioned: "Now y'all know who's been thirsting over Cheol the most."

The response was a digital riot.

Mutuals screamed, thirsty asks flooded in, and the discourse was gloriously unhinged. But you remained steadfast, continuing to post your most depraved fics, crafting scenarios where Seungcheol was worshipped, debauched, and insatiably ravenous.

And then, the Seventeen fan meet happened, a cruel twist of fate.

You'd fantasized about this moment—meeting him, hearing his deep voice pronounce your name, but the reality was a wicked deviation from your wildest dreams.

As you slid your album across the table, Seungcheol looked up, his eyes locking onto yours, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his lips. "So… a Tumblr writer, huh?"

Your soul evaporated.

Your grip tightened on the table's edge, knuckles white. No fucking way. Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he—

But then, he signed your album with a predatory smirk, scribbling something extra before returning it.

Your gaze dropped, your breath catching in your throat.

"To my favorite writer. Keep up the good work, sweetheart. ;) (P.S. I especially enjoyed the one where you described me wrecking you apart in the dressing room my sweet needy girlfriend.)"

Your entire reality shattered.

The staff called for the next fan, but you stood there, petrified, decimated, obliterated. When you finally stumbled away, your hands trembled, clutching the album like a lifeline.

You needed air. You needed to purge your blog from existence.

The event concluded, and you were poised for a swift escape, but a staff member intercepted you.

"Seungcheol-ssi asked if you could wait a moment."

Your stomach plummeted into the abyss.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before he appeared—casual, confident, dangerously alluring.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

You opened your mouth, but utter silence was your only response.

Cheol stepped closer, arms crossing over his broad chest. "Cat got your tongue?" His biceps strained against his shirt, and you hated how your eyes were drawn to them. "That's funny, considering how much you write about me using mine on you."

Your breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping your lips.

He chuckled—low, guttural, dripping with sin. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You didn't think I'd find out?" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming. "Some of those fics… incredibly detailed. Specific. Makes me wonder—"

His eyes traveled over your body, slow and deliberate, lingering on your curves.

"Have you been fantasizing about me, sweetheart? About every single word you wrote?"

Your knees threatened to give way.

"I—"

Cheol took another step forward, cornering you against the wall. He was so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, his cologne—woodsy, musky, intoxicating—filling your senses.

"You don't hold back when you write, do you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "All that talk about me ravaging you. Tasting you. Making you beg for mercy."

Your lungs seized.

His hand lifted—not touching, just hovering. His fingers ghosted over your wrist, your waist, your hip, the delicate curve of your throat, not quite making contact, but your skin burned with the phantom touch.

"You paint me as a man consumed by lust in your stories." He smirked, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and predatory. "Tell me, sweetheart… do you want to find out if your depictions are accurate?"

Your stomach dropped into your core.

He leaned in, his breath brushing your ear.

"Or maybe," he murmured, his voice a velvet rasp, "you'd rather write about what happens next? About how I finally claim you, how I fill you with every inch of me, how you scream my name until you're hoarse?"

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Your mouth opened—desperate to speak, to deny, to beg, to say yes, anything—

But Seungcheol pulled back, letting the moment hang in the air, a taut, electric tension stretching between you. He smirked, a predatory grin playing on his lips, like he'd won some wicked, unholy game.

"Keep writing, sweetheart." His voice was thick with amusement, laced with a hint of something darker. "I love seeing you try to fit me in… somewhere. Especially when you describe me stretching you out, filling you up, making you mine."

Your heart flatlined, then restarted with a violent jolt.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked away—leaving you standing there, utterly wrecked, ruined, undone.

Your blog was about to implode in a blaze of glory. You needed to write. You needed to describe the way his eyes looked, the way his voice sounded, the way the air crackled between you. You needed to write every single explicit detail, and you needed to post it immediately.

---

[sleeplessdove]

be a body

e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: the thrill of firing your girlfriend’s gun is greater than you could have ever imagined

a/n: wrote while high & not proofread !

warnings: dark themes !!! outdoor/public sex, gun usage that is incredibly irresponsible, do not do any of this !!!, gun used for penetration, r! gets eaten out, pet names, established relationship, heavy dom/sub themes!!!, slapping, r! is described more as a femme, predator/prey kink (?), gun kink, fear play, power imbalance, and lots more !

wc: 2.3k

You can feel her hand tightening against yours, as if daring you to finally pull the trigger. Even with no exchange of words, you understand why she is being so patient. She is measuring your breaths, waiting for you to slip up. Both of you know you’re out of your element but she needs to be able to prove it through your own actions. 

The weapon is dreadfully heavy and if Ellie’s hands weren’t guiding your own, you would’ve dropped it ages ago. A heavy silence falls between the two of you, the only sound being caused by your short and panicked breaths. But all the while, her breaths remained calm and had a natural ease to them. 

The amount of power she had at this moment left you petrified, and yet you never wanted this to end. You could feel her breath fluttering against your skin as she lowered her lips towards your neck, placing a tender kiss against it before speaking. 

“Take it nice n’ slow, sweetheart” 

In an instant, your whole body seemed to relax and it was as if the entire world had just gone silent. Your eyes locked onto the empty beer bottle Ellie had so kindly put out for you as target practice, and you finally felt that you were seeing it clearly. You took in a deep breath, exhaling from your mouth as you finally pressed down against the trigger enough to cause it to fire. 

The sound is disruptive to say the least, your body tensing as your ears begin to ring. It takes a moment for your mind to even register that before the ringing began, you could clearly hear the glass bottle shattering. Relief flooded every inch of your body, pride swelling in your chest. 

Your moment of triumph was interrupted as Ellie pulled the gun from your hands with very little effort, your eyes following the movements of her fingers as she turned the safety back on and slid her favorite handgun back into the holster she always wore on her thigh. 

She turns your body so you’re facing her, her strong hands firmly gripping your hips. “Look at you, little miss perfect, hm?” she questions with a smile that feels mocking but some part of you is truly soothed by it. 

You shake your head, a bashfulness growing deep inside of you that had been planted by the attention Ellie gave you. “I only got it cause you were helping” you mutter, your words small and passive. 

“And she’s modest too” Ellie quips playfully, always seeming to bask in the glow that came with teasing you endlessly. Her firm hold on your hips seems to lighten up, leaving your body to sway a bit, lost without her guidance. But soon enough, her hands begin to trail up your body. 

Every curve of your body is traced by her skilled fingers, as if she were molding you into something new, something you had always wanted to be. The feel of her rough hands came with a whirlwind of emotions, leaving you feeling breathless. At the same time you had never felt such euphoria, the rush of proving yourself to Ellie mixed with the fear of being in the woods with your armed girlfriend making everything feel like a dream. 

The cold air bites your skin as she pushes up your sweater, the realization that the two of you were out where anyone could see you making you tense in the slightest. She is quick to soothe you, leaning down to drag her tongue against the pulse point on your neck. A filthy moan leaves Ellie’s lips as she feels the wild beat of your heart against her own tongue. 

It’s a reminder that she is the one in control, and she can’t help but gently graze her teeth against the flesh, although she eternally wishes to simply sink her teeth into you. She is only being gentle because she wants to make you wait for the pleasure you are seeking out. 

“Please” you breathe out, unsure of what you’re even asking for at this point. You’d take anything from her, whether it be a kiss or a punch, anything was better than her punishingly slow pace. 

Your plea only makes her scoff and she makes a point of pressing a messy kiss against your neck before she finally moves so that the two of you are eye to eye. “Do you really think you’re the one in charge here?” she questions, feigning curiosity. When you only frown at her, she moves one hand away from your body and uses it to lightly slap your cheek. 

“I asked you a question” she adds on, her tone no longer playful. The small slap was barely enough to cause a sting but it left you reeling, the small correction instantly putting you back in your place. 

“No, I don’t” you finally mutter, speaking the truth since there was no other option. Your words must have been correct, as Ellie’s expression becomes much warmer after you speak. “That’s what I thought” she hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. 

To be rewarded for such words makes you dizzy with delight, the feeling of everything being out of your control somehow managing to calm you. When she finally kisses your lips, it’s as if the gates of Heaven had opened for you. 

Her tongue was akin to velvet, so warm and inviting as it slid against your own. Despite your own desperation, Ellie keeps the kiss slow and behaves as if she has all the time in the world with you. 

She shushes the borderline pitiful whines that fall from your lips when she pulls away, although she makes up for it by trailing kisses down your clothed body. You watch as she kneels before you, pushing you back against the large tree behind you. Once she has you pinned there, she begins to behave like a woman starved. 

With reverent movements, she kisses your thighs that were still covered by tights and bunches up your skirt between her fists. It feels dirty in a way you can’t quite describe, but it makes your cunt ache with need. “You did so good, following my directions cause you’re so smart” she praises, her moans mixing with her words seamlessly. 

Your body practically trembles beneath her grasp, immediately moving your hips to help her tug down your skirt along with your tights. It’s not rushed, as Ellie loves to take her time with you. “Maybe we should’ve come on a warmer day” she comments, noticing the way the cold breeze had you shaking. 

“No, no. Today is perfect, I like it” you reassure breathlessly, needing Ellie to not have a single bit of hesitance while touching you. Your quick reply makes her grin and she traces her fingers along the cotton material of your panties. 

The sight of the cute bunny printed onto the front of your panties makes her heart swell with adoration and she can’t help but lean down to press a kiss against the little bunny. “You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen” she states as if it were the most truthful words that had ever left her lips. 

You can only let out huffs and broken moans as she finally tugs your panties down past your thighs, doing your best to spread your legs while still leaning against the hard bark of the tree. 

She spreads you open for her own viewing pleasure, finding solace only when she’s buried between your thighs. You thread your fingers through her hair, tugging just enough to have her groaning. There is no doubt that you should be ashamed but when Ellie is treating your body as if it’s something holy, you can’t think straight. 

When she dips her head down and you feel the sloppy kiss she presses against your clit, you let out a moan that rumbles deep within your chest. You don’t dare to press her mouth closer to you, knowing there would be immediate consequences to your actions. 

So you’re forced to endure the slow kisses she trails all along your most intimate area, her tongue lapping at your slit ever so gently. The mere tip of her tongue had you holding onto the tree that kept you steady, the bark cracking under your fingers. 

“Did holding my gun get you all worked up, bunny? Did you feel all powerful?” she questions, her mouth so close to your cunt as she speaks that you can feel her breath against you. It leaves you squirming, unsure if you want her to do more or less. 

“Felt nice to hold, really nice” you whisper, being given no time to react as she turns you so that you are bent over and holding on to the tree. “Yeah, baby? It sounds like you love my gun just as much as you love me” she coos, using her thumbs to spread open your cunt once more, the new angle letting her see you on a deeper level. 

“There’s my pretty girl” she praises, and you’re unsure if she is speaking about you or your cunt. Either way, you feel your face heat up from all the praise she has been giving you. You’re sticky with arousal and Ellie can’t deny herself any longer. 

She leans closer, remaining on her knees behind you as she begins to feverishly eat you out. Her tongue flattens against your slit only to move back upwards so she can flick her tongue mercilessly against your twitching clit. When she closes her lips around your bud and begins to suck, your hips jerk involuntarily. 

“No, want you inside” you plead with a mewl, needing to feel connected with her. Although you know you’re asking for the impossible, as out in the middle of the woods Ellie couldn’t just grab her strap to fuck you brains out. 

However to your surprise, she is immediately able to find a way to give you the contact you are seeking out. She nudges her tongue against your slit carefully before slowly sinking it inside, fucking you on her tongue. 

It’s not nearly as deep as her strap could reach but in that moment, it’s all you needed. Her mouth is hot against you, her spit dripping down her chin as she worships your pussy. 

You’re so lost in the blinding pleasure that you don’t even realize the movements Ellie has made, that is until it’s too late. She knows you're close and yet she pulls away, leaving you aching for more. 

“Shhhhh, princess. I’ve got just what you’ve been begging for” she soothes, pressing the warm barrel of the gun against your hole that was still clenching around nothing. 

The strange feeling is enough to make you turn your head so you can glance back at her, your eyes wide with fear. Ellie uses her free hand to gently rub against the skin of your thigh, offering an understanding smile. “The safety’s on, promise. But if you wanna stop, you can tell me” she says in a calm voice that could’ve made you melt. 

No matter the shame you felt, you couldn’t deny that she was right, that this is what you wanted. “Need it…” you confess, as if pleading with her to push it inside. Your words are enough for Ellie to lose any sense of hesitation, her finger gently circling your clit while she pushes the tip of her gun inside you. 

It’s warm from the recent firing of it but much smoother than you expected, the attention to your clit making the stretch much easier since you were preoccupied with ecstasy. “That’s it, baby. Look at this pretty pussy, all spread open n’ fuckin’ dripping for me” she says in a rough voice, getting worked up just from watching you. 

The thrusts from the weapon are deep and slow, letting you feel every detail of the gun inside you. The mix of fear and arousal creates something delicious and you know that you can’t hold on much longer. 

“Can I cum, please? I’ve been so good, did everything you told me to” you beg, needing her permission and approval for every little thing. Ellie sighs, as if saddened that this moment will be coming to an end but she still speeds up the thrusts for you, wanting to help you finish. 

“Of course, bun. C’mon, cum on my gun the same way you cum on my cock” she encourages, her words beyond dirty yet neither of you cared. The sound of her voice is all you need before you’re crying out her name, creaming around the still warm weapon. 

Ellie curses as she watches your pussy clamp down on her handgun like a silk vice, pulling it from your body carefully so she can see your dripping core that she had just stretched open with her weapon of choice. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re gonna help me clean this up” she mutters as she observes her gun that was now a complete mess of your juices. You can only groan in response, in no mood to help her clean her guns after she just pushed your body to its limit. 

When she realizes how out of it you are, she simply tucks away her gun and tugs your clothes back into place so you’re at least covered up. “Once we get back, I’ll give you what you want, alright?” she promises, standing up and not caring to dust the dirt off her knees. 

You can’t stop the pleased smile that spreads onto your lips, nodding contently before she gives your ass a gentle smack to get you to move on your own. The soreness is beginning to build in your body but Ellie lets you lean against her as the two of you walk back to the cabin. 

The fear from earlier lingers a bit but it only makes you more eager to reach your shared bedroom so that you can feel her tender touch that never failed to make the world feel like a perfect place.

[lotsofmilfs]

Shades Of Cool Part 1

Pairing : Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Summary : You and Agatha were close in Salem, but things happen of course, and now you’re reunited due to the Witches Road

Word Count : 7kish

Authors Notes : I took creative liberties with the road !!! but i’m hoping you still like !

Warnings : Angst, Brief mention of suicide, longing, i think that’s it.

You were in Agatha’s trial on the witches road, you had on the same outfit as her, only it was a pink jersey, instead of the purple. Your hair was down instead of up in the hairstyle that Agatha was wearing, and your knee high socks were white with two purple stripes at the top. You don’t even know how you got here, but that was just how strong Billy was. Summoning you for a trial you had no idea you were taking place in.

You’d met Agatha during the Salem Era, both of you young, and close. You hated your own parents, and when Agatha told you about her mother, you planned to run away together. Things never worked out that way though, the closer you got with Agatha, you wanted to bond with her.

Bonding was something ancient, bringing together two witches. It would open their souls, their minds, and their hearts to one another. Agatha was petrified of being that open with someone, the vulnerability was just too much, and even though it hurt, she left you the next day after you poured your heart out, asking for her to break the barrier and become one.

Now it’s been centuries, and you freeze as you stop messing with the game in front of you, hearing a collection of voices from your right.

“Who’s trial is this?” Jen asks as they all look around

“Agatha’s.” Rio smirks. That name. You’ve not heard that name in so long it brings a flush to your cheeks, and your face lifts up, your side profile now visible to the group.

Agatha freezes when she sees your face, she’d remember it anywhere, she had dreams about it. She doesn’t say anything, she couldn’t. How were you even here? She… Thought maybe you’d died years ago. You never approached anyone about the road, and so she assumed.. She looks at you different then when she seen Rio again, there’s no anger or malice in her gaze. Just a deep set of longing. Her feet carry her involuntarily towards you and she breathes out.

“Darling.”

Your head snaps toward the voice, sharp and familiar, dripping with a need that makes your stomach twist in ways you wish it wouldn’t. “Agatha,” you say, her name cutting through the charged silence like a blade. It comes out too soft for your liking, so you harden your voice. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Her lips twitch, almost a smile, but not quite. There’s something in her eyes that makes it clear you’re not the only one thrown off balance. “The feeling’s mutual, darling,” she says, her tone breezy, almost mocking, but there’s a crack in the façade. She’s staring at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Maybe she has.

You’ve got centuries of practice keeping your emotions in check, but something about the way she’s looking at you, the way her breath catches for just a moment, has your carefully maintained armour slipping. You clench your fists to stop them from shaking.

“What have you done now Agatha? Have you stolen someone’s broomstick?”

Her smirk comes back, sharp and self-assured, like she’s trying to regain the upper hand. “If only it were that simple,” she says lightly, but there’s a tension in her jaw. “Let’s just say I’ve been accused of... dabbling.”

“Dabbling?” you echo, incredulous. “That’s likely one way to put it.”

“Careful,” she says, her voice dropping into something silkier, more dangerous. “You might hurt my feelings.”

Your laugh comes out more bitter than you intend. “Oh, I’m sure they’re well-protected under all that... dabbling.”

The others in the group exchange uneasy glances. Rio, ever the instigator, pipes up again, clearly loving the drama. “So... you two know each other?”

Neither of you answers, too locked in a silent, electric standoff. It’s Agatha who finally breaks the moment, turning to address the group, her voice dripping with the kind of theatrical charm only she can pull off. “Let’s just say we have history.” Her eyes flick back to you, and her tone turns pointed. “Though some of us are better at leaving the past where it belongs.”

Your lips part, sharp words ready to fire back, but you stop yourself. This isn’t the time, and you won’t let her get the better of you. Not again.

Instead, you tilt your head, levelling her with a look. “So, this trial. What’s the serious charge? Not just the accusations.”

Agatha hesitates, just for a moment. “They think I stole something.” Her tone is measured, but there’s a flicker of guilt—or defiance, maybe—in her eyes. “Power. Something I didn’t earn.”

You cross your arms. “And did you?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a second, she looks like she might actually tell you the truth. Then she shrugs, her smirk slipping back into place. “Does it matter?”

“It does if you want to walk out of here alive.”

The air between you is thick with unspoken history, the weight of centuries hanging over every word. Agatha steps closer, lowering her voice so only you can hear. “You’ve always been good at seeing through me, haven’t you?”

You swallow hard, hating the way her words make your chest tighten. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, stepping back just enough to reestablish your ground. “I just know your type.”

She chuckles, soft and low. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve always known me. That’s what made you dangerous.”

Her words hit a nerve, and you hate that she knows it. She’s always been good at that—finding your cracks and slipping through them like smoke. But this time, you won’t let her.

Before you can respond, Rio claps their hands, breaking the tension. “This is all very riveting, but shouldn’t we, I don’t know, do something? Trials, consequences, accusations—ringing any bells?”

Agatha’s gaze snaps to Rio, her smile vanishing in an instant. “Stay out of it,” she says sharply, her voice like ice.

But as much as you want to stay angry, to keep your walls firmly in place, there’s something in her eyes when she looks back at you—a flicker of vulnerability, of something real—that shakes you.

“Why am I here, Agatha?” you ask quietly.

She hesitates, her confidence faltering for just a moment. “I didn’t bring you here,” she says. “But... maybe the road thought I needed a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”

Her gaze softens, and for a second, it’s like you’re back in Salem, two young witches on the brink of something extraordinary. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come.

Instead, she steps back, her expression hardening again. “You’ll see soon enough,” she says, her tone deliberately flippant. “Just try not to get in my way, darling.”

You narrow your eyes, but there’s no time to respond.

The ground beneath your feet rumbles—a low, ominous vibration that sends chills up your spine. The witches’ road is alive, its energies twisting and pulling, urging the trial forward. Around you, the air grows thick with power, sharp and unrelenting, and the others in the group exchange uneasy glances.

Agatha stands still, her gaze fixed on you, as though the trial itself is secondary to the unfinished business crackling between you. But her expression hardens when the light around you shifts—a brilliant blue glow forming a circle in the center of the road.

"Right on cue," Agatha mutters under her breath. She turns to the group, her sharp tone carrying authority, even here. "Stay behind me. All of you."

"Why would we do that?" Rio asks with a smirk, stepping closer to the circle. "You’re the one on trial, remember?"

Before Agatha can snap back, the blue glow bursts upward, spiralling into a towering column of light. From its core, shapes begin to emerge—silhouettes, shifting and indistinct at first, but then solidifying into forms you recognise all too well. Witches, cloaked and severe, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. The Coven.

“Agatha Harkness,” one of them speaks, their voice cold and resonant. “You stand accused of theft, treachery, and the violation of sacred laws.”

Agatha lifts her chin, the picture of defiance, but you catch the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the slight clenching of her jaw. “Well, don’t hold back,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me how you really feel.”

The Coven doesn’t react, their collective gaze shifting past her—to you. The intensity of their focus sends a shiver through you, but you don’t flinch. You know better than to show weakness here.

“Who dares to stand beside the accused?” another witch asks, their glowing eyes narrowing.

“She doesn’t belong here,” Agatha says quickly, stepping in front of you. “This trial has nothing to do with her.”

“Is that so?” The lead witch tilts her head, studying you with unnerving precision. “And yet, the road brought her here. Why?”

You meet the witch’s gaze, refusing to let the weight of her scrutiny drag you down. “I’d like to know that myself,” you say coolly. “But whatever this is, I’m not here to play spectator.”

Agatha casts you a sharp look, her eyes flashing with something between irritation and concern. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hisses.

“Then enlighten me,” you snap back, your patience wearing thin. “Or is keeping secrets still your favourite game?”

“Enough,” the lead witch commands, her voice cutting through the tension. The others fall silent, their glowing eyes shifting back to Agatha. “The accused will answer for her actions.”

“Gladly,” Agatha says, folding her arms. “But let’s be clear—I didn’t steal anything. I earned that power.”

The lead witch’s gaze sharpens. “You twisted ancient magic for your own gain, defied the natural order, and corrupted forces beyond your comprehension. Not to mention murdered hundreds. You are a danger to all witches.”

“Funny,” Agatha retorts, her voice venomous. “I seem to recall you trying to kill me for simply being too powerful. Guess some things never change.”

The Coven bristles, their forms glowing brighter, but before they can respond, the road itself shifts again. The ground beneath you ripples, and for a moment, you’re weightless—floating in the charged air. When you land, the circle of light has expanded, now encompassing you, Agatha, and the Coven.

You glare at her, your frustration boiling over. “What exactly did you do, Agatha?”

Her eyes flicker to you, something almost apologetic flashing across her face before she buries it under her usual mask. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is with you,” you bite back.

Agatha opens her mouth to respond, but the lead witch cuts her off. “The accused is bound to the truth. Let us see if her lies can survive the light.”

At her words, the blue glow intensifies, and the trial begins in earnest. The road reacts violently, pulling memories and illusions from the air—scenes of Agatha’s past swirling like a storm around you. Her betrayal of the Salem Coven. Her hunger for forbidden power. Her darkest moments laid bare.

But then the images shift—scenes you recognise. A younger Agatha, laughing beside you in the moonlight. The two of you whispering secrets, planning your escape. The night she left you, her face a mask of regret as she vanished into the darkness.

Your breath catches, and Agatha’s head snaps toward you, her expression unreadable.

The Coven doesn’t miss the exchange. “Ah,” the lead witch says, a cruel smile curling her lips. “Perhaps the accused’s greatest crime is not against magic, but against the heart.”

Agatha’s face hardens, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes as she turns to you. “Don’t let them twist this,” she says, her voice low and urgent. “You know me better than anyone.”

You take a step closer, your anger warring with the pull of old, buried feelings. “Do I? Because the Agatha I knew wouldn’t have dragged me into her mess.”

“I didn’t!” she snaps, the crack in her composure widening. “But if I had... maybe I should’ve. Maybe you’re the only one who can—” She cuts herself off, looking away.

The Coven watches, their glowing eyes unrelenting. “Speak your truth, Agatha Harkness,” the lead witch commands. “If you can.”

You don’t know what’s worse—the thought that she’s hiding something from you, or the thought that she’s telling the truth and you’re still tied to her, even now. Either way, you’re not letting this end without answers.

“Start talking,” you say, your voice sharp but steady. “Because if you want me to trust you, Agatha, you’d better earn it.”

Agatha remains silent, though her eyes are pleading. The road trembles beneath you, the Coven's chanting growing louder, more insistent. The blue light twists and contorts, creating shadows that dance around you and Agatha. You’re too close to her now, her presence almost overwhelming in its familiarity. After all this time, she’s still the same—still sharp, guarded, impossible. And yet, beneath it all, she’s still her

You steal a glance at her, and for a moment, you see a crack in her defenses. The weight of the trial, the memories, the raw, unspoken tension between you—it’s all there, etched across her face. But she’s too proud to acknowledge it, even now.

“You’re scared,” you say, your voice low enough that only she can hear.

Agatha’s gaze snaps to yours, her eyes narrowing. “Of them?” she asks, gesturing toward the Coven with a sardonic smirk. “Please.”

You hold her gaze, refusing to let her deflect. “Not of them. Of me. Of us.”

Her smirk falters, just for a moment, and you know you’ve hit a nerve. She takes a step back, but you follow, unwilling to let her retreat this time.

“I’m not scared,” she says, but her voice lacks its usual bite.

“Liar,” you counter, your tone soft but unrelenting. “You’ve always been terrified of letting anyone in. Of letting me in.”

Agatha opens her mouth to respond, but the Coven’s chanting suddenly shifts, the words growing sharper, more pointed. The blue light swirls between the two of you, pulling at the air, at your magic, at your connection . The Coven has sensed it—the bond that could’ve been, the bond you once wanted more than anything.

“You thought about it,” you say, stepping closer. “All those years ago. You wanted it, too.”

“Stop,” she snaps, her voice cracking slightly, her control slipping.

“You left because you couldn’t handle it,” you press on. “Because you were too afraid to open yourself up. To share everything—your power, your heart, your soul.”

“I said stop,” she hisses, but she doesn’t move away.

The blue light flares between you, the energy shifting, bending, until it forms a thread, a thin, shimmering line connecting the two of you. The sight of it makes your breath catch in your throat. It’s the bond, raw and unfinished, still lingering after all this time.

Agatha stares at it, her face pale, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. “It’s not real,” she says, her voice almost desperate. “It’s just the trial, just a trick.”

“You don’t believe that,” you say quietly.

The thread pulses, glowing brighter, and you can feel it now- the pull of her soul, of her essence, intertwining with your own. It’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once, and you can see the same war playing out in Agatha’s eyes.

The Coven speaks again, their voices cold and cutting. “The bond remains unfinished. A betrayal of magic, a betrayal of trust. It is a wound that festers, unresolved.”

Agatha clenches her fists, her gaze snapping to the lead witch. “This has nothing to do with them,” she says, her voice shaking with anger. “You’re trying to twist this into something it’s not.”

The lead witch tilts her head, her glowing eyes boring into Agatha. “The trial reveals truth. Nothing more, nothing less.” Her gaze shifts to you, and her next words are deliberate, cruel. “Perhaps the accused should explain why she ran. Why she rejected the bond when it was freely offered.”

Agatha flinches, and you feel the thread between you tremble. For a moment, you think she’s going to lash out, to fight, but instead, she turns to you, her expression raw and unguarded in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I didn’t run because I didn’t want it,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ran because I wanted it too much.”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

“I knew what bonding meant,” she continues, her eyes locking onto yours. “It would’ve made us... tied in ways I couldn’t undo. And I couldn’t let myself—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I thought I was protecting you. Protecting-“ she cuts herself off and then, “But maybe... maybe I was just protecting myself.”

The thread glows brighter, the magic between you surging, and you can feel it now—her fear, her regret, her longing. It’s all there, laid bare, and for the first time, you see her for who she truly is.

“You didn’t need to protect me,” you say, your voice steady. “I was ready, Agatha. I’ve always been ready. But you never gave us a chance.”

Her lips part, but before she can respond, the Coven’s chanting rises to a fever pitch. The thread between you stretches and trembles, the energy reaching a breaking point.

“You must choose,” the lead witch says, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Complete the bond, or sever it forever. There is no more middle ground.”

Agatha’s eyes widen, panic flashing across her face. She looks at you, her composure crumbling, and for the first time, she seems truly vulnerable.

“Don’t let them force this,” she says, her voice trembling. “Not like this.”

The glow of the thread between you pulses, trembling like a fragile lifeline. The Coven’s chanting grows louder, demanding resolution, pushing you both to a precipice. Agatha’s eyes dart between the shimmering connection and your face. You can see the fear in her eyes, the weight of her indecision pressing down like a storm.

“Choose, Agatha Harkness,” the lead witch demands. “Complete the bond, or sever it forever.”

Agatha’s hand hovers over yours, trembling. The vulnerability on her face is something you’ve never seen before, and it twists something deep inside you. For a moment, you think she might do it—reach out and let the bond fully take hold. But then her jaw sets, her gaze hardening.

“No,” she says sharply, yanking her hand back. The thread snaps violently, the energy spiralling outward like a scream. The sudden emptiness is immediate and gut-wrenching, leaving you gasping as if something vital has been ripped away.

Agatha steps back, her face pale, her hands clenched into fists. “I can’t,” she whispers, her voice brittle. “I won’t.”

The lead witch smiles coldly. “So be it.”

The thread between you vanishes, and the road trembles again, this time more violently. The energy shifts, the air growing heavy with the finality of her decision. You feel the hollow space where the bond once was, an ache that settles deep in your chest. It’s unbearable, and when you meet Agatha’s eyes, you see that she feels it too.

Her face twists with something you’ve rarely seen from her: regret.

“Wait,” she breathes, but the Coven’s chanting drowns her out. The blue light around you sharpens, cutting like a blade, and you can feel the road enforcing her choice, solidifying the severance.

“Agatha,” you say, your voice raw, stepping toward her. “Don’t do this. Don’t—”

“I already have,” she interrupts, her voice breaking as she turns away from you. “It’s done.”

But even as she says it, her steps falter. Her hand rises to her chest, where the bond once pulsed with life. Her expression crumples, the emptiness hitting her like a physical blow. She gasps, clutching at the air as if she could pull it back, undo the severance.

The lead witch tilts her head, her voice cutting like a knife. “Feeling the emptiness already, Agatha Harkness? Such is the price of fear.”

Agatha spins back to face them, her mask of confidence shattering completely. “Bring it back,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I’ll do it. I’ll—”

“Impossible,” the lead witch says coolly. “You made your choice.”

“No!” Agatha snaps, desperation lacing her words. She looks at you, her eyes wide and pleading. “I—I didn’t mean it. I can fix it. Just—” She turns back to the Coven. “Just let me fix it.”

The lead witch’s gaze is unforgiving. “The road answers only once. To sever a bond is to sever it forever. That is the law.”

Agatha shakes her head violently. “No. That’s not—no!” Her voice cracks, and for a moment, she looks like she might collapse under the weight of her mistake.

You step forward, your own pain mingling with hers. “There has to be a way,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “You can’t leave it like this.”

The Coven is silent for a long moment, their glowing eyes unreadable. Finally, the lead witch speaks. “There is one way, but it requires both souls to agree. And the cost will not be light.”

Agatha’s gaze snaps to you, her eyes searching yours. For the first time, there’s no deflection, no bravado just raw, unfiltered need. “Please,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

You take a breath, the pain of the severed bond still fresh and raw. You should walk away. You should let her feel the consequences of her choice. But you can’t. You’ve never been able to. And now hearing her beg? You fear you’d do anything she asked.

“Fine,” you say, stepping forward. “What do we have to do?”

The lead witch smiles faintly, as if this is what she wanted all along. “Rekindling a severed bond requires sacrifice. Magic, power... a piece of the soul itself. Are you willing?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Agatha looks at you, her eyes filled with both gratitude and guilt. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” she says softly. “Not after what I—”

“Then don’t make me regret it,” you interrupt, your voice firm.

She swallows hard, nodding. “I won’t.”

The Coven begins chanting again, the air growing thick with magic. The blue light spirals around you and Agatha, pulling you closer together. This time, the bond doesn’t form gently—it crashes into you, fierce and unrelenting, flooding every part of you with her essence. You feel her fear, her regret, her longing—all of it laid bare. And she feels you, your unwavering determination, your pain, your love.

The connection is deeper than it was before, forged not just from desire but from sacrifice. When the light fades, you’re left standing face to face, your souls intertwined in a way that can never be undone.

Agatha exhales shakily, as if the bond settling between you is more weight than she expected. Her gaze flickers over your face, searching for something—maybe forgiveness, maybe reassurance. You give her neither, not yet. She’s made too many mistakes for things to be that simple. But you can’t deny the way the bond thrums, anchoring you to her in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

The road quakes beneath you again, the energy of the trial still humming in the air. The Coven watches silently, their glowing eyes unreadable, as if they’re waiting for the next move.

Agatha takes a tentative step closer, her voice low. “How does it feel?” she asks, her words almost hesitant. “Having me in your head again.”

You let the question hang for a moment, savouring the way it makes her squirm. “Heavy,” you finally say, your tone sharper than you intended. “But that’s no surprise, is it? You’ve always been a lot to handle.”

Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, the familiar spark of defiance flaring in her eyes. “And yet, here you are. Handling me.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t move away. The bond hums in agreement, pulling you closer even as you try to keep your distance. “Don’t push your luck, Agatha,” you warn. “This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you.”

Her smirk fades, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. “I know,” she says softly. “But it’s a start.”

Before you can respond, the lead witch steps forward, her presence as cold and imposing as ever. “The bond is reforged,” she announces, her voice echoing through the space. “But it does not absolve you, Agatha Harkness. This trial is far from over.”

Agatha straightens, her bravado snapping back into place like armour. “Of course it isn’t,” she says, her tone laced with sarcasm. “Wouldn’t want to make things too easy.”

The lead witch doesn’t react to the quip, her gaze sharp and unyielding. “The bond may strengthen you, but it also binds you. Your fates are now intertwined. Should one of you fall, the other will follow.”

You glance at Agatha, and for the first time, you see genuine fear flicker across her face. “What does that mean?” you ask, your voice steady but firm.

“It means,” the lead witch says, “that the bond is both your greatest power and your greatest vulnerability. Use it wisely—or perish together.”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel the weight of them settle into your chest. Agatha glances at you, and you can tell she’s thinking the same thing: what have we just done?

“Fine,” Agatha says finally, her voice tight. “What’s next? Another test? Another round of judgment?”

The lead witch’s lips curl into a faint smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “You think this is a game, Harkness. But the road has already given you its answer. The only question now is whether you’re strong enough to face what comes next.”

The ground beneath you shifts again, and you feel the magic of the road pulling you deeper into its grip. Agatha reaches for you instinctively, her hand brushing against yours. The bond flares at the contact, filling you with a rush of her emotions.

Fear. Regret. Determination. And something else, buried deep, that feels almost like hope.

One again the road surges to life around you, swallowing the quiet moment between you and Agatha. The blue glow deepens, swirling with flecks of violet and gold, and the air feels like it’s being pulled apart. You grip her hand tighter, instinctively bracing yourself, and she doesn’t pull away.

The lead witch raises a hand, silencing the murmuring Coven. Her gaze fixes on the two of you like a blade about to strike. “The reforged bond is only the beginning. What lies ahead will test the strength of your connection—and the truth of your intentions.”

Agatha scoffs, though the sound is weaker than usual. “Another vague warning? How original.”

The lead witch’s smile is razor-thin. “The road reveals what is hidden. It will force you to confront the past you thought buried—and the consequences of choices you’ve both made.”

You glance at Agatha, whose jaw tightens. She’s always been so good at hiding what she’s feeling, but the bond makes that impossible for her now, you wonder if she knew that.

Before you can press her, the ground beneath you crumbles. The Coven’s chanting rises into a deafening crescendo as the two of you are plunged into a swirling abyss of light and shadow. Xx

When the world solidifies again, you’re standing in a dimly lit forest. The air is heavy with the scent of earth and moss, and the moon hangs low in the sky, casting everything in an eerie silver light. The road is gone, as is the Coven. It’s just you and Agatha now.

You turn to her, your heart still racing. “Where are we?”

Agatha looks around, her expression unreadable. “This… this is Salem,” she says quietly. “But not the Salem we knew. It’s different.”

The forest feels alive, the trees whispering secrets you can’t quite make out. The bond hums in your chest, tugging at something deeper, and you know without needing to ask: this place isn’t real. It’s a manifestation. A memory.

“Why would the road bring us here?” you ask, though the answer is already forming in the back of your mind.

Agatha’s lips press into a thin line. “Because it’s cruel,” she mutters. “And it knows where to hurt.”

A sound echoes through the forest—laughter, high and clear, cutting through the silence like a blade. Your stomach twists as you recognise it.

It’s her.

Your younger self steps into the clearing, a vision pulled straight from your memories. She’s vibrant, her eyes bright with hope, her laughter filling the air. And beside her, laughing just as freely, is Agatha.

The sight punches the air from your lungs. You can feel the echoes of that time through the bond—the joy, the connection, the longing that neither of you dared to name.

Agatha stares at the scene, her face pale. “Why are they showing us this?” she whispers.

“You know why,” you say, your voice low. “Because this is where it all started.”

The memory shifts, darkening at the edges. The laughter fades, replaced by tense whispers. The younger version of you steps closer to Agatha, her expression vulnerable, open.

“I don’t want to run,” your younger self says, her voice trembling. “I want to stay. I want to bond with you, Agatha. I—”

“Stop,” the real Agatha mutters, her voice tight.

But the memory plays on. Younger Agatha’s face twists, fear flashing in her eyes. She steps back, shaking her head. “No,” she says, her voice sharp and final. “We can’t. I won’t.”

“Why?” your younger self pleads.

“Because you deserve better than me!” Memory Agatha snaps, her voice cracking, before you hear her internal voice, one that’s truly broken and screaming out in fear “Because I’ll ruin you. Don’t you see that? I ruin everything I touch.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and you see the real Agatha flinch beside you. The memory fades, leaving the clearing silent once more.

You turn to her, your chest tight with emotion. “That’s why you left?” you ask, your voice raw. “Because you thought you’d ruin me?”

Agatha doesn’t meet your eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” she says quietly. “I did ruin you, didn’t I? I left, and you—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice sharper than you intended. “Don’t turn this into a pity party, Agatha. You don’t get to decide what I deserved. That was my choice to make.”

Her head snaps up, her eyes flashing with something between anger and pain. “And look where your choice got us,” she spits. “Centuries apart, and now we’re tied together because of this damned road. Is that what you wanted? To be stuck with me forever?”

The bond flares at her words, the tension between you sparking like a live wire. You take a step closer, your voice steady but furious. “What I wanted,” you say, “was for you to trust me. To trust that we could’ve been something more. But you ran because you were too scared to face that.”

Agatha glares at you, but her shoulders sag, the fight draining out of her. “You think I don’t regret it?” she says, her voice breaking. “I’ve regretted it every single day. But I thought... I thought it was better this way. Safer. For both of us.”

“Safer?” you echo bitterly. “Do I look like someone who needed to be saved from you?”

The air between you crackles with magic, the bond pulling tighter as your emotions clash and collide. You can feel her guilt, her longing, her fear—and beneath it all, her love. It’s raw and messy and imperfect, but it’s there, undeniable.

You’re about to say something before the forest grows darker, shadows stretching long and deep as the memory shifts again. You brace yourself, but nothing could prepare you for what the road dredges up next.

The scene crystallises around you: a small, dimly lit room with a single cracked mirror leaning against the wall. The air feels stifling, heavy with pain and desperation. It’s familiar—achingly so. This is where you went the night after Agatha left.

Agatha stands frozen beside you, her breath catching as she takes in the sight of you from centuries ago. Your younger self sits hunched on the floor, trembling, clutching a flickering ball of magic in your hands. The light glows faintly pink, pulsing in time with your heartbeat, but it’s unstable, wavering with every shaky breath you take.

“No,” Agatha whispers, stepping toward the memory as if she can change it. “No, no, no—what are you doing?”

But the memory unfolds without mercy.

Your younger self mutters under her breath, an incantation so jagged and broken it sounds like a dirge. The magic in your hands sparks violently, surging outward before collapsing back in on itself.

“Take it away,” your memory-self says, her voice cracking. “Take it all away. I don’t want it anymore.”

You remember the feeling all too well—the suffocating pain, the emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole. The bond you’d started to forge with Agatha had been severed, but not cleanly. It had left jagged edges, a wound that pulsed with every beat of your heart. You’d thought if you could rid yourself of your magic, you’d be free of her—free of the ache she left behind.

“Stop,” Agatha says aloud, her voice trembling. She reaches for the image of you, but her hand passes through it like smoke. She turns to you, her eyes wide and desperate. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you—”

“Because you weren’t there,”, the hurt in your voice cutting through the air like a blade. “You left, Agatha. I was alone.”

The younger you falters, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t do this,” she sobs, gripping the magic tighter. “I can’t feel her anymore. I can’t—”

The incantation grows louder, your magic swirling around you like a storm. It’s unstable, laced with anger and grief, threatening to implode. And for a moment, it feels like it will work—like you’ll succeed in ripping away the part of you that still clings to her.

But the spell breaks, shattering like glass, and the magic snaps back into you with a force that knocks your younger self to the ground. You cry out, curling into yourself as the bond—though faint and fractured—reasserts itself. It’s agony, the connection too stubborn to let go completely, no matter how much you tried to destroy it.

The memory fades, leaving the clearing eerily silent. Agatha stands rooted in place, her face pale and stricken. You can feel the weight of her guilt through the bond, heavier than ever, pressing into you like a physical thing.

“You tried to... take your magic away?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because of me?”

“Yes,” you say, your tone flat. “And I failed. Just like I failed to let you go.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. She looks at you like she’s seeing you for the first time, the full scope of what she did to you finally crashing down on her. “I didn’t know,” she says weakly. “I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t,” you cut her off. “You ran, Agatha. You made your choice, and you didn’t look back.”

Her shoulders slump, her walls crumbling entirely. “I thought I was protecting you,” she says, her voice trembling. “I thought... if I stayed, I’d only hurt you more.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say bitterly. “You hurt me anyway.”

The bond flares between you, sharp and raw with the weight of her regret and your lingering anger. Agatha flinches, her hand rising to her chest as if she can feel the ache directly.

“I was a coward,” she admits, her voice breaking. “I was so afraid of what the bond meant—what it would do to me. To us. I thought if I left, it would be easier for both of us.” She meets your eyes, and for once, there’s no deflection, no sarcasm. Just honesty. “I didn’t know it would be worse.”

You take a shaky breath, the pain of the memory still fresh. “I didn’t want it to hurt anymore,” you say quietly. “But it never stopped. Not for centuries.”

Agatha steps closer, her hand hovering near yours. “I don’t know how to make it right,” she says, her voice soft and unsteady. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll try. I’ll spend the rest of eternity trying.”

You study her face, the vulnerability in her expression. The bond hums between you, not as sharp as before, but still raw and unsteady. You don’t trust her—not completely. But for the first time in centuries, you feel something else beneath the anger: the faintest flicker of hope.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say, your voice softer than before.

Agatha’s lips quirk into a faint, rueful smile. “I won’t,” she says. “Not this time.”

You take a deep breath, and you nod as you both start to walk, looking away from her, your eyes taking in the trees around you both, the silence that is only broken by crickets and your feet on fallen leaves every now and again.

The mist clings to you both like a second skin as the silence stretches, weighted and tense. The bond hums faintly between you, but there’s a strange hollowness to it, a missing note that makes your chest ache. It takes you a while to place it, but the realisation creeps up on you slowly, like a shadow in the corner of your mind.

You glance at Agatha. She’s walking beside you, her shoulders squared in that way that screams she’s unbreakable a lie she’s always told herself. But there’s something missing. Something that isn’t just her sharp-edged confidence.

You stop walking. “Agatha,” you say, your voice cautious but firm. “Your magic.”

She freezes, her back going rigid. Slowly, she turns to face you, her expression carefully neutral, but the bond betrays her. You feel her shame and frustration ripple through it, sharp and unsteady.

“What about it?” she asks, her voice brittle.

“It’s not there,” you say, your tone softer now. “Not the way it used to be. What happened to it?”

She looks away, her jaw clenching. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” you counter, stepping closer. “You’ve been hiding this from me, Agatha. Why? What happened?”

Her silence stretches too long, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then, finally, she exhales sharply, her eyes dark with something raw and vulnerable.

“Wanda happened,” she says bitterly. “Westview, she stripped me of everything. My magic, my power—she left me with nothing but a body and a few clever words.”

Your heart stutters. “She took everything?”

“Yes,” Agatha snaps, her voice laced with frustration. “I can’t even light a damn candle without the bond. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be this?” She gestures at herself angrily. “This hollow shell of what I used to be?”

Her words hang between you, her anger bleeding into the bond. But underneath it, you feel the deeper truth: the helplessness, the fear, the grief of losing something so integral to who she is.

“Agatha,” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice sharp and bitter.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t give me some speech about how I’m more than my magic or how I’ll be fine. You don’t understand what it’s like—how empty it feels.”

Your chest tightens, the weight of her pain pressing against you through the bond. And suddenly, you do understand. The absence of her magic isn’t just a loss of power—it’s a loss of self, a wound that’s been festering since Westview.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” you say quietly. “But you’re right. I don’t understand what it’s like to lose magic. I don’t understand how it feels for you. But I can feel it, Agatha. Through the bond. And it hurts.”

Her eyes snap to yours, her expression faltering.

“I feel the emptiness, the hollowness,” you continue. “And I don’t want to feel it anymore. I don’t want you to feel it anymore.”

Her laugh is short and bitter. “Well, unless you’re planning on storming Westview I don’t see what you can do about it.”

You hesitate, the reckless idea forming in your mind. The bond between you hums faintly, and you realise there might be a way to fix this—or at least try.

“I can’t get Wanda to undo it,” you say slowly. “But I can give you something else. My magic.”

Agatha freezes, her expression unreadable. “What?”

“You heard me,” you say. “I can share my magic with you. Just enough to—”

“No,” she says sharply, taking a step back. “Absolutely not. That’s reckless and stupid, even for you.”

“You need magic to be whole again, Agatha,” you argue. “And we have the bond. It’s not just a connection—it’s a tether. If anyone can do this, it’s us.”

“You don’t know that,” she snaps, her voice trembling. “You could hurt yourself. Or me. Or worse, you could sever the bond completely. Have you thought about that?”

“I have,” you say, your voice steady. “And after realising what you’re feeling through our bond I’m willing to take that risk.”

Her anger falters, replaced by something softer—something closer to fear. “Why?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Why would you do that for me?”

You step closer, your gaze locking with hers. “Because I feel you, Agatha. I’ve felt you for centuries, even when I didn’t want to. And I can’t stand feeling you like this anymore. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looks like she might argue again. But then she nods, her hands trembling at her sides.

“Fine,” she whispers. “But if this goes wrong we’re both dead…”

“It won’t,” you say firmly. “Trust me.”

You reach for her hand, your fingers brushing hers lightly. The bond flares at the contact, and Agatha inhales sharply, her magic—or what’s left of it—stirring faintly in response.

You close your eyes, focusing on the bond and the magic coursing through you. You channel it carefully, letting it flow toward her like a steady stream. It’s not painless—the act feels like giving away pieces of yourself, leaving raw edges behind. But through the bond, you feel her presence grow stronger, her magic flickering to life like an ember reignited.

Agatha gasps softly, her grip on your hand tightening as the magic flows between you. When you finally stop, your knees feel weak, and the bond hums with a new warmth—a sense of balance that wasn’t there before.

You open your eyes to find her staring at you, her expression unreadable.

“How do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitates, then says, “Stronger.”

A faint smile tugs at her lips, and before you can react, she steps closer, her cheek brushing against yours. The touch is soft, fleeting, but it sends a warmth through the bond that makes your breath catch. Her hand cups the back of your head and her other hand holds your lower back.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

You wrap your arms around her, exhaustion tugging at you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, her gaze steady. “I won’t.”

[lavandulawrites]

I heard you wanted asks… ._.

Dan Heng being weird and stalkery and such… maybe even grabbing darling with his tail if they were to get too close to learning about his habits…

Coiling Love

Yandere Dan Heng x reader

Yandere Dan Heng is such a interesting concept I wish to dive into further<3 (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: obsession, stalking, Dan Heng takes pictures of reader without reader knowing, stealing of personal belongings, manipulation, possessiveness, Dan Heng lets his draconic instincts take control, Dan Heng is creepy (he is only in love your honour)

Word count: 884

You were a fascinating human being. You were kind and beautiful and always put others first. Dan Heng had never been one for relationships, he never had the time nor had he found the right person. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t fantasies about his weeding.

You made him think that maybe love was possible for him too.

His feelings was so foreign. He decided he should follow you so he could keep a close eye on you. Your innocent nature reminded him of a helpless bunny and that triggered something deep within his very soul. His blue eyes bored into your form as you went about your daily life. When it was time for the Nameless to depart from your planet he managed to persuade you to join them. Dan Heng promised you a life of adventure and experience you would never forget. You were easy to convince.

Your bedroom was right besides the Archive which was to Dan Heng’s joy. He often found himself resting his head against the cool wall that separated your rooms. He wondered what you were doing and if maybe, just maybe you were thinking about him too. His dreams consisted of you and only you. His good dreams were filled with you and your beautiful laughter and his nightmares were filled of your pained screams and your petrified eyes.

He longed for your touch and every time your hands brushed against each others when you were preparing breakfast in the eating car, he found his heart bursting out of his chest. His face however remained as stoic as ever before, except for the little smile that tugged on his lips. When he returned to his room after your hand has brushed against him in an attempt at reaching the butter, he kissed the skin on the back of his hand with closed hands. Oh, how he wished it was your hand instead.

The dark haired man asked March if she could teach him how to take good pictures with a camera which she happy agreed to. With his camera in his hand he snapped pictures of you without your knowledge. He had bought a camera with smith buttons aka it didn’t make any sound when taking pictures.

He hid the many pictures he had taken underneath his bed and other places he knew no one would ever find them.

He always accompanied you on outings and always remained close by. If he noticed someone who was too close to you, he would step in. Who would dare defy the man who had just saved their planet?

It was when you had returned to the Express after a mission that you stumbled upon the open door to his room. You normally didn’t stick your nose in others business, but something urged you to go inside.

When you stepped inside the room littered with various screens and blue screened floors your eye caught a book sticking out from underneath the brown haired man’s bed. It was as if someone had tried to hide it, but were in a hurry.

You crutched beside the bed as you lifted the book up carefully. The cover was rather plain and sea green in colour. It had a ringed spine of silver. You opened it carefully, curious of its contents.

What met you were pages filled with entries of your daily routines, ranging from what you eat to how many times you blinked when you watched a movie with March and Stelle.

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you flipped through the pages. He had taken multiple photos of both you and your belongings. He had even gotten his hands on pictures of your university graduation. Your eyes feel to his pillow where you could see the sleeve of the purple shirt that you had been looking for. “What…”

A pair of arms wrapped around your form as hot breath canned against your neck. “You weren’t supposed to see that…” his voice gentle.

“Dan Heng what is this…?” your voice shaking as your eyes raked between the shirt and the book that were still in your hand.

“Just my archive of you. Nothing to worry about” he chuckled slightly as if trying to lighten the situation.

Something strong and chilly wrapped around your midriff in a tight embrace. You looked down and was met with the sight of a scaly tail.

“It’s normal for us Vidyadhara to keep track of our beloved. I suppose it’s time I finally make my feelings for you known” he used his hand to gently turn your head so you could see his face. His handsome features soft as he looked at you with love you only thought existed in fairytales.

“I love you [Name] and I have for a long time” he smiled. Long fingers stroked your cheek gently.

“And I intend to spend the eternity with you. Us Vidyadhara have a strong sense of protection, so I promise you that I will never let you go. I know this is sudden, but I promise I will protect you and make you happy” his cerulean eyes glittered with love and devotion.

Dan Heng had never been the one to lie, and you knew for certain he meant every word he said. You were his for eternity.

[goodeapple]

divine timing, or something like it (alpha!aemond targaryen x omega!oc)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : ABO dynamics (which imo, comes with obvious dubious consent), dreams of knotting, the standard Targcest good times that is my bread & butter

word count : 6,000+

note : i can't believe this thing is actually seeing the light of day and (hopefully) breaking me out of my writer's block. hope ya love it, idc if ya hate it <33

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Gods, she can't fucking breathe.

Ysilla gasps wildly, one desperate inhale after another. She rips at the soft sweetheart rise of her dress' neckline with frenzied hands, nails sharp and fraying the delicate stitchings. Good, let her ruin it then, if the soaking rush of slick that's wetting her thighs hasn't stained the fabric beyond measure already.

Her cunt is a river, the swollen lips of her flower sopping and sliding along one another, and if she clenches her muscles just so, hot tiny tingles burst like sparks in her tummy. There's a pressure building, not quite unlike the kind that has her relieving herself at daybreak, but something just south of there. More pleasant, more tight. 

She careens into the side of a writing desk, the wind whooshing out of her as her stomach greets the sturdy wood. Her fingers scrabble for purchase- to anchor her down, to tear her forward, she is unsure. All she knows is that every inch of her body hurts and she'd do anything to make it better.

Her chamber door opens and it seems her prayers for help have been answered. 

"What have you gotten yourself into now, Niece?" Aemond spits, barely concealed fury fizzing and frothing at his edges. Dinner was a fucking disaster, one he enjoyed aiding in. Riling up the Strong boys had brought him more joy than he could ever remember experiencing, but the long night to get there made him want to sever the very head from his body.

Rhaenyra and her doting bitch of a husband, with their identical downturned scowls and judging eyes, laughing and snorting carefree at the end of the table. His ghoulish corpse of a father forcing them all to lend an ear to that insufferable speech. So many sons, they all blurred one into the other, all sharing the features of their mother and that of whomever their fathers may be. The hair color used to help keep them sorted but now, two fair haired sniveling brats have been added to the brood and Aemond can't keep track. 

And then, of course, there's Ysilla, with her nose upturned and self-righteousness a thick cloud perfuming her. The firstborn to the King's favorite. Destined to only receive the best and apparently, from her attitude, it's never enough. 

And now, even after he's done his duty to his mother and put on the best face he could manage tonight (before it all went belly up), it seems he still cannot escape the bastards of his blood.

"No, no, no, get him out of here!" Ysilla screams at the petrified servant girl, who doesn't even have the good fucking sense to fake like she's trying to obey the future Crown's wishes, and instead flutters soft lashes to the Targaryen son in hope of help. The girl is a waif of creamy alabaster skin and yellow blonde hair, all of it pinned underneath a sage colored cap. Her cheeks are a pinched red; delicate circles of color that match the flush of her lips. And she's looking at Aemond like he'll save her from the hellish wench that she's been stuck waiting on since Ysilla and her family returned to the capital. 

Ysilla snarls, angrier than a dragon with a toothache. "Fine then, if you are so miserably incompetent, then you leave!" Her mother would smack her in the mouth if she heard her being such a pain, but Ysilla would spit at the King himself with the agony that churns in her gut.

 

Damn these people, don't even know how to listen to the heiress. Ysilla growls, before a clenching cramp bows her over, sending her grasping for the edge of the desk before she can crumple onto the top of it. 

"You sent her for help, and this is how you treat her?" 

"Help? You?" Her snort is indignant but she deems it appropriate. 

"You are so like your mother, aren't you." It isn't a question as much as it's an accusation. Ysilla bristles at the disgust layered in between the clearly enunciated words. Aemond speaks to be heard- their family dinner drove that point home like a stake through the ground. And for him to disrespect her mother- the heir- so blatantly and in front of others, makes her vision glow crimson. 

"And damn proud of it." She spits out, watching through blurry eyes as Aemond holds the door open for the maid and softly hushes her quivering apology. He's so gentle with her, even pushing the door shut with less force than a strong gust of wind, as if he doesn't wish to frighten the girl anymore than Ysilla apparently has.

But yet, whenever he looks at her- his own kin- it's with a roughness that rivals dragon scales. Ysilla's skin shivers in annoyance, and she tears at her bracelets until the bangles free her wrists and fall to the floor in a bejeweled rain. 

"What's happening to me?" She whines, fear starting to creep over her. Mayhaps she's coming down with a fever. It would explain her scorching complexion, and the delirium plaguing her good sense. She's just not familiar with any sickness that makes her cunt wetter than the tides. 

"What is the meaning of all this?" Aemond's barbed words cut off in a choke, his hand flying to his nose as if to shield himself from something hideous. He sputters, his solo eye wrenching shut before he sucks in a heavy breath. 

The rise and fall of his chest grows labored, and Ysilla watches cautiously as he blinks himself back into the moment. His eye, once calculating and acutely focused, has gone hazy and the black dot in the center seems to have gulped down the silver steel of his iris. He looks at her then, truly looks at her, for the first time in years and takes stock of what lies in front of him. Ysilla feels no better than that roasted pig on the silver platter, left untouched on the dinner table. 

Every spot on her body that is roamed over by his singular sight erupts in a flaming burst, every sinew and stretch of supple skin being forged anew under her uncle's attention. The look on his face is one she's never seen before and she tries to find it within herself to be scared. Frightened. Petrified. Because all of his lingering animosity is absent, his signature sneer long gone and in their place, hunger has laid waste to his beauty. The Princess whimpers, the tightening behind her navel becoming nearly unbearable.

"Seven above… you're presenting." The awe in Aemond's tone is soft and it feels like balm on a blister. His voice is spiced wine and she wants to steal a sip. Ysilla blinks at him as his words register, annoyed confusion poking through the airiness of her uncle's voice. 

"What am I presenting?" 

Aemond looks at her, before he laughs. He laughs! Ysilla wasn't sure her uncle even knew how to do so. His laughter dies down into a chuckle, and he hums. "My silly girl… my Silli girl."

Ysilla melts into an even bigger puddle. Her shorthand from his lips is enough to have her swooning- he never calls her by her name. Never has he said it before so sweetly, gently, either. She enjoys it- no, she adores it. She wishes he'd say it again. She wishes for him to be closer, too, so that she can smell the musk of his odor, feel the rise of his chest… taste the flavor of his mouth-

Dinner, fighting, turmoil, all flow back into her mind, drowning her lust in a tidal pool of sense. 

"Qyybor, wait- do you know what's happening to me?" Ysilla will never doubt her willpower again as she pushes away from the desk and further into her apartments (further away from him). She shadows the wall, a shaky hand drifting along the cool stone to keep her steady. 

"Your true nature is coming through. The dawning of your destiny, burning its way through your very veins." Aemond's melodic tenor drops out, and Ysilla bites into her cheek to keep herself from begging him to continue. "Did your mother not tell you of this?"

"No, no, I don't- she didn't- ugh, I don't even know what this is! My 'true nature'? Speak plainly, Uncle. If you're here, help me." She groans, stilling in her movement. Walking is perhaps not the right answer. The continual brush of her thighs, the clenching of her abdomen, it all makes her cunt pound.

"Easy, Ysilla, relax." 

Her name again. Her spine jolts uncontrollably and she gasps. She presses her forehead into the wall, traitorous tears being summoned by the exquisite burn casting her aflame. 

She spooks like a frightened fawn as fingertips ghost over her exposed shoulder. Flinging herself away, a full circle now, Ysilla finds her back to the door and Aemond still in front of her. His hand remains outstretched, as if cast in plaster, frozen in a moment of emblazoned curiosity.

Or more, in a moment of desperate desire, per Aemond's swirling thoughts. He swings his head slowly to face Ysilla, the pearlescent wave of his hair slicing over his shoulder like a star through the sky. He feels too big for his skin, the very tissue of him, the sweet marrow in his bones pulsing, begging to be set loose and allowed to feast on the pretty little pound of flesh being presented to him. He wants to… well, he knows what he wants to do.

Her moans are soft, sweet, like succulent summer fruit, ripe and juicy and beseeching a hungry mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of her lips to accompany the rough roll of his hips. His swollen knot tugs at the delicate tissue of her stretched opening, and the hot rush of ecstasy through her veins has gooseflesh rising along her naked skin. 

The rattle of the doorknob draws Aemond's attention to where it's demanded- on his Omega niece. Her fingertips just barely brush over the handle of the exit, one if she were to disappear through, he's sure she would be gone forever.  

"Don't run, zaldrītsos," Ysilla stumbles for breath at the Valyrian croon, wrapped up in the pretty bow of her uncle's spiked honeyed tone. He's so big, when did he get so big? Where was the boy she had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her whole childhood? In his place now, a man grown. A man with strong, spread shoulders and capable hands, long legs and toned thighs. A man with a face chiseled and sharp, but soft in the perk of his lips. And an all consuming want in his eye for her.  

"I'll catch you. And I'll make you regret leaving me."

Something ancient inside of her roars to life, and the pulse between her legs and the beat inside of her chest are one in the same. 

"You don't own me…" 

Her uncle raises a brow, lips quirked up in a sinister sort-of smile. Ysilla bites at the tip of her tongue, keeping herself quiet, his name dancing at the backs of her teeth. 

You don't own me, Aemond.

You're still not good enough, Aemond. 

I'm meant for someone else, Aemond.  

He will accept none of the unvoiced.

She sees the muscle in his jaw flex and like the prey she is, she takes her chance. Ysilla is out the door and flying down the hall in a matter of seconds, her feet faster than her mind. She passes others, faceless smears of startled eyes and miffed mouths, not allowing her eyes to stray from the focused path in front of her.

One foot in front of the other, her skirts hiked high to her knees, slippers threatening to skid across the stones. Ysilla's lungs burn as she rounds another corner, dashing down a narrow staircase with far too much speed. She streaks through the night air like a lightning bug, her own gasps for air roaring in her ears. And if she strains her hearing just so, somewhere close behind the thundering of her heart, there's heavier footfalls in pursuit. In pursuit of her. The echoing memory of Aemond's laugh rings like sept bells in her head. 

I don't want to run from this. I don't want to run from him. 

The very appearance of that thought has Ysilla stilling in an instant. Her heels screech into the stone beneath her, the muscles in her calves twisting in tight terrible spasms. The hall she's found herself in is a well lit tomb, the final resting place of the girl she used to be and not yet the woman she'll become. 

Arms snake around her waist and the warmth of them sinks through the fine thread of her clothes. Smoke and citrus, oranges if she's being specific, wafts into her nose and she's never before felt a hunger like the one that bursts to life within her.  

"Got ya." Aemond whispers into her ear and Ysilla trembles at the dampness of his breath. He's caught her- he's won her. To the victor go the spoils. 

She's already rucking up her dress skirts to her hips to meet Aemond's hand palming at her mound. He presses hard into the bush of curls contained by her small clothes before guiding his touch further beneath her. He dips his fingertips just slightly in, pressing her soaked under slip into the blossoming folds of her core. 

"Ohhh, you're drenched, sweet girl." Aemond coos, his forearm a bar over her chest, caging her in from shoulder to shoulder. "Is this all for me?" 

Ysilla burns, in face and in cunt, letting her head drop back against his chest. He brushes his lips over the edge of her brow, and she lets a full body shiver race through her. 

"It got worse… when you were near me. I noticed it at dinner." She kept stealing looks all night at him, and for the life of her, couldn't figure out why. From where she was tucked by her mother, it had been easy to peek around her and drink her fill of her silent, brooding uncle. 

"That's why you were looking at me." He chuckles, smothering his face into her hair. He breathes in, filling his lungs with her sea salt scent. He caught a whiff of her earlier, when they all gathered to break bread, and not a scrap of food on the table was as tempting as her. 

Spurred on by the realization that it must've been him, the two of them in such close proximity after how many years apart, that has brought forward the truth of her blood is all the justification Aemond needs to take what is his. 

"Only for me." His voice is a rumbled growl and his fingers move faster, rubbing little circles over the covered peak of her clit. 

"Only for you." Ysilla moans, unable to think anymore. Her backside curves on an animal instinct, situating herself into the spread of his masculine hips. It hurts too much to wage a war with the screaming inside of her body. All she knows for certain is that Aemond's touch upon her heated flesh casts a most welcome chill and all of the layers keeping them apart is only fanning the flames scorching her innards to ash. 

"Take me, Aemond. Take what you want." She guides the hand once across her chest downwards, until the large sweep of his grip is full of her breast. He squeezes the heavy handful of it, and the hardening of her nipple cuts through the bust of her gown. Aemond wants them in his fucking mouth but he resists, if just barely, to whisper in here ear:

"No no, sweetling. Take me, Alpha." 

Ysilla screws up her brow- that's not a word she's ever heard before. She racks her brain for a possible Valyrian root but comes up empty handed.

"Alpha?"

Aemond's arms constrict around her tighter and his hips pitch forward, and the thick pulse of what's behind those leather breaches of his has her drooling. 

"Yesssss. Say it again." He commands, the threatening thunder brewing in his voice spilling over, and dripping hot into her ear.

Ysilla feels the sturdiness of him at her back- his legs planted, arms encircling her, his chin tickling at her temple. He's strong and firm and fit. He'll take good care of her, she just knows he will. Her blood, her bone. She may still be in the dark about what's overtaking her but her fear has fled. A white knight he may not be, but Aemond will be her savior tonight. 

She turns in his arms, blinking heavily at him over her shoulder. "Take me, Alpha. Now." 

A tethered force, their lips draw nearer and nearer, until suddenly, finally, they brush against one another. 

A blade meets Aemond's throat and Aegon rips him backwards and away no, no, come back to me from where Ysilla fights against sliding down the wall and melting into a puddle of dribbling want. 

"Let me go! Let me go!" Aemond thrashes about but for Aegon's credit, he plants his feet and holds strong. Dark Sister's fine point brushes at the bob of his throat, Daemon's aim too good to convey it as anything but a warning. He could spear him through with so little as a twitch. 

Ysilla shakes her head, as if to physically sort her thoughts. Without Aemond's citrus leather spice fragrant and cloying in her nose, the pain returns to her limbs tenfold and she clings to the cracks in the wall for support. Hands pat at her back, a soothing, sturdy tempo to accompany the blissful aroma of smoldering freesia. Her mother, certainly, and… Ysilla groans, and it has nothing to do with her growing discomfort. Lovely, her whole family is here to witness her debauchery. 

Jace whimpers, eyes blown big and Ysilla can see nothing of the oak brown irises that have always looked upon her with warmth. Luke, Baela, and Rhaena's heads all try to drift into focus but they're kept back and away from the dramatic scene by a sturdy line of armor-clad guards. Jace starts forward, to do what, she doesn't know because he doesn't get far. Daemon pushes him backwards, barking an order to a floundering servant to take him the fuck away from here. 

"It's okay, honey bee, it's okay." Her mother hushes her, tucking the curls Aemond had strewn about behind her ears with quivering fingers. Ysilla tries to focus, the cacophony of noise fading until it's just her and her parents in the once booming hall. But it's awfully difficult, her vision tunneling on her almost paramour. 

"Where did he go? Alph- Aemond. Where is he?" Ysilla tries to look down the corridor he had been hauled through, where a shouting Alicent had followed closely behind but it's a moot point. 

Rhaenyra looks horrified by something she said and she glances at Daemon for aid. Her stepfather stares at her and the weight of his attention is suffocating. Ysilla pulls at her dress, trying to look the least disheveled she can. Embarrassingly, the need is still there. The slick sweltering heat between her thighs still purring for attention, her breasts still peaked from her uncle's interest. 

"I'll handle him." Daemon spins on his heel, hand clenched at the hilt of Dark Sister and Ysilla frowns, worry creasing her forehead. Before she can think to do anything, her mother is pulling her away from the hall and further from the scent of Aemond still lingering in the air. 

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The cells are olid and damp. Rats scurry about in the darkness, the scrape of their nails like the chattering of teeth. 

Aemond could see how men could lose their minds down here, how they could conjure things out of the dark that would rival their worst nightmares. How every small sound could echo down the twisting tunnels until it returned, warped and wicked before burrowing into their ears. 

Thankfully, the torches along the walls are lit- he's not a prisoner for real, it's all show. It's what he had quieted his mother with- if she were to scream any louder, he's sure the vein in her forehead would've popped. 

"Just until you've come back to yourself, Brother." Aegon had panted out, exhausted from wrestling his much taller sibling down several flights of stairs and into the bowels of the castle. "Didn't think you had it in you." Praise from Aegon was not something one usually strived for. A skewed needle on a moral compass, anything that impressed the firstborn son was certainly not of the highest caliber and not worthy of a response in Aemond's opinion. But still, the leer of Aegon's pride chafes at him something nasty.

His grandsire was there as well, something Aemond hadn't realized in his stupor, and the disappointment on his face had sobered him in an instant. He winces, thinking of the scene that his family must've come across. 

He can still feel Ysilla against him. The soft scent of the Essosi oils braided into her hair clings to his shirt where she had strained against him. The phantom press of her hips and how they had rocked against his palm, desperate for anything he was willing to give, keeps him awake and stubbornly aroused. 

A door opens and it sounds far off. Anticipation builds in Aemond's gut as someone draws closer to his cell, every small sound reverberating off the shadows. He stiffens his spine, prepared to take the brutal lashing from his mother, the decimating disapproval from his grandsire, the aberrant council from his sister. 

The caged Prince's visitor drifts closer until he stands, tall and proud, on the open side of the cell door. Aemond stares, in weary disbelief. Is he not being punished enough. Daemon smiles at him. Aemond frowns. 

"This suits you." Daemon gestures to the locked cell door, and he yanks on a stuck bar for emphasis. "After all, these lodgings are deserved of your kind. When I headed the Kingsguard, before your seed even found its way into your mother's womb, I oversaw the punishment we'd dole out onto the vermin of society. Thieves, murderers… rapists."

Aemond shoots to his feet, glaring daggers into the man he's ashamed to share blood with. 

"I did no such thing."

"No? I saw plenty- as did her mother, as did yours. Ysilla straining against you, heat sick and desperate, and you," Daemon sweeps him over with an acrimonious appraisal.  "You, a knothead Alpha, twice her size, flooding her senses with your stink, drowning her in it until she couldn't even command her own body. Hmm, I wonder what my brother will say, when he is told his favorite grandchild was nearly defiled by his own son. If he lets Rhaenyra chop off your balls, I'll make them into earrings for her."

"Why did you let her out of her chambers then? Why does she not know what she is?" Aemond grits out, fists clenching at his side. He still has his blade and he brushes at the hilt of it. 

"Or, was that it? Was it your plan to parade her in front of us all, and see who would take the bait so that you could banish us all down here and throw away the key?" 

Daemon doesn't grace him with an answer; he only stares, with thinly veiled fury deepening the wrinkles of his forehead. 

Aemond pauses, teeth in his tongue like it's a tough piece of meat. He'd rather swallow glass and shit out each piece instead of pleading with his father's brother. But he will not have himself be thought of as someone of such a vile nature. He won't have Ysilla think that. 

"I didn't know, Daemon. I didn't know she was an Ome-"

"Of course you fucking knew." The Alpha timbre of Daemon's voice makes the iron bars caging Aemond in quiver like a worm on a hook. "You are your grandfather's shadow. You have his gall, you have his arrogance, you have that same fucking glint in your eye that he has everytime he looks at my brother. You saw opportunity in the dawning of my daughter, and you jumped on it." 

"You're wrong."

Daemon tsks, walking backwards, drawing the curtain on his loathsome visit. "The thing is, Nephew, I'm not."

"You can't keep me here. You can't keep me away from her." Aemond doesn't have to shout, his voice reaching farther than he can follow.

"We'll see."

And then it's just him, alone, in the dimming darkness. The thoughts creep in, unbidden, like the rats, to gnaw at the edges of his mind.

The scent of Ysilla's slick, the sweet pheromones exuding from her every pore, both had sharpened when he finally had her in his arms. She had said it, had purred it, letting it drip off her lust-slick tongue. Take me, Alpha. Now.

She had wanted it. She had wanted him. 

Hadn't she? 

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The screech of ancient hinges resounds from somewhere in the dark, and the accompanying fall of footsteps is thunderous in the still, silent air. 

"If this is the torture part of my stay, I'd rather put it off until the morrow. I'm tired." Aemond drawls, tucked into the furthest corner of his cell. Whomever his unwelcome guest is, stops in front of his locked door and stares from behind the darkness of their shroud. 

"… Uncle." In his would-be torturer's place is a tiny cloaked thing, who pushes back their hood to reveal the placid face of his niece. Aemond forces himself to rise on slow, steady feet instead of surging towards the bars like a man bewitched. 

He gets close enough that he catches the oceanic bloom of her perfume, and the sweet salt of it chases away the headache that was left after he was snatched away from her. He regards her in silence for a moment, letting the weight of what they had done together settle in the air around them. 

"How'd you get down here?" His voice is thicker than normal and Aemond has to clear his throat. 

"The guards, of course. I'm their future Queen- they know it's best to listen to me." Ysilla sniffs, digging the toe of her boot into the spongy earth below. The haughtiness in her tone is flimsy, as if she's not used to speaking in such a manner. Aemond finds that hard to believe- firstborn daughter and all. "And I may have also said I would feed them to Vhagar if they refused."

"She'd love that." He draws dryly. The silence they fall into is uncomfortable and he isn't the first to break it.

"Are you alright? No one… hurt you, did they?" Ysilla's voice is tiny, as if she's strengthening herself for an answer she may not like.

"Why?" Why do you care? 

The silence returns, heavier now, and Aemond sighs. He concedes, finding no delight in the worry written in the downturn of her mouth. "No, Niece, no one hurt me." 

The breath she releases sounds like a relieved one, or perhaps that's simply wishful thinking. Aemond rubs at his temples, the weight of the day starting to settle atop of him. 

"You look… more here." He means that she looks less likely to fall to her knees and swallow his cock, but he doesn't want to be crude. Maybe, there will be a more appropriate time for that later. 

"Well the tub full of water my mother dunked me in certainly helped." That explains the burst of her curls, springing from her head like an obsidian bouquet. 

"Did she tell you more about… earlier? About what happened to you?" About what nearly happened between us? More unspoken words, more half-truths and not quite-lies.

"She did. I'm still… letting it all sink in. Betas, Alphas… Omegas. The whole lot of it. I just wish she would've told me, obviously before what transpired between us. I wouldn't have put you in that position if I would've known. I would've… given you the option, I wish. To truly want me and not just the allure of my second sex." 

Aemond blinks and does so again, and yet her words still ring in his ears. He wonders idylly if that truly slipped from her mouth, or if the dungeon is doing it's duty and twisting them into what he wants to hear. He didn't force her. He didn't hurt her. A wisp of hope rises as if from a snuffed out candle, and he stamps it out before it can blossom into anything tangible. 

"What happened before was just your instincts talking. I… I shouldn't have let it get that far. You made me lose control is all." It's a coward's way out, blaming her for his absolute lack of resolve. But he can realize now, without her lithe body pressed invitingly against him- tucked so tightly to him, filling his every jagged edge with the bloom of her curves- that there's more at stake here than just the purity of Ysilla's virtue. 

"No! You made me… feel things. Things I've never, ever felt before. Not for anyone." Tension builds, stacking like stones, as she lets her gaze caress him from head to toe. Aemond shivers, heat trickling into his belly, a pot that sprung a leak. "I want to feel them again." Her voice is firm, even if her eyes are wide. 

Aemond swallows, feeling as if the ground beneath him has started to rock. Again. It means so many things. A repeat of what happened in that hallway only this time, no one would be there to stop them. He would take her to his apartments, spread her over his sheets, and take his time unburdening her of every suffocating layer of clothing. And then, when she was naked and bare for him to feast his famished gaze on, he'd ravage her. 

Again means hope (of a future, of a family, of happiness.) And he can't stomach it- when he nearly knows for certain that he'll never be allowed alone with her after tonight's happenings. His voice is hard when he speaks again.

"Our family is on the brink of shattering. We can't even have dinner together without being at each other's throats."

"Mayhaps we can fix that." She shrugs, a careless shift of her shoulders and a lovely little peak of a smile accompanies it. Aemond is starting to realize he'd do anything to see joy warm her face into that glorious pink flush, and same as before, he tears any chance of bliss into pieces.

"Us fucking could save our family?" It's crass and unlike him to say, but he must. He has to make her understand. 

Ysilla shakes her head, resolve bright in her burning indigo stare. "Us mating could save our family." 

Aemond stares at her as if she's grown a second head. 

"Don't speak of things you have no knowledge of."  

The weight of his influence is crushing and Ysilla fights the urge to bare her neck to him. A stubborn growl manifests instead, her annoyance overtaking whatever urge her "true nature" tries to make her bend to. She is well-read, she is smart. And it's as if every shred of knowledge she possesses is now for naught in this new life she's been tossed into. 

"Then teach me, Aemond." Ysilla stresses, and the tremble in her voice is a surprise. Why is she crying? "Don't leave me alone in this."

Despair turns his stomach inside out. She's upset, she's scared. She needs me, me, I'm her Alpha. The Targaryen son breaks, from no less than three tears swimming over his niece's lashes. 

"Sweet girl, come now, there's no need for your sorrow." He presses himself to the bars to get as close to her as allowed. 

"No, no." Ysilla huffs, lips wobbling in frustration. Aemond looks at her with worried confusion, his fingertips still chasing away the teardrops staining her cheeks. 

"Say my name." She demands in a shaky voice. "Not niece, not sweet thing. My name."

His hand overlaps her's, sharing the bar they both grip onto as if it's a lifeline. The brush of their skin, so simple, so decorous, sends them both plummeting into oblivion. 

"Ysilla."

Their lips meet through the gaps in the bars, the space not nearly wide enough to make it a proper kiss but it will have to do because Ysilla needs a taste of him. 

Maybe if she hikes her legs through the slats, he can pull her close enough to slide his cock inside of her. The vision of that, of Aemond throwing himself against the iron keeping him caged, hips pummeling as he works himself up between her thighs before finally, finally emptying his seed into her womb, has Ysilla sliding her hand to the back of his head to pull him in harder to suck at his bottom lip. Aemond moans at that and moans even deeper as she cards her fingers through his silken strands to tug. 

She has to retreat, air desperately missing her lungs. Aemond hums, the vibration echoing through his chest and scattering the shadows about the chamber. He kisses the side of her mouth and then the dip of her chin, and then lower to that long line of her throat before the blasted door gets in his way. 

"Just wait until I get out of here- I'll show you how a Princess should be treated." He growls, sucking an obvious bruise at the hinge of her jaw.

"Why not now?" Ysilla whispers, finding his loving mouth again before her tongue sweeps forward to meet his.

Like a sweet dream, visions of little Targlings running amok through the halls of the castle spring forth in her head. Boys with violet eyes and snow white hair tumble about, while little girls of a chestnut pallor clothed in black and green laugh a musical sound. 

Aemond's palm finds the small of her back, his hand wide enough to the thumb at the edge of her spine and massage the bud of her buttocks. He impels her to him and the iron gate digging into the soft flesh of her breasts has her whimpering. 

"The first time I take you," he pulls back to look into her eyes. Her lips are puffy, the color of crushed berries and she tastes just as sweet. It's only the two of them, again, and it's exhilarating. "The first time I knot you, will be in a place worthy of a princess."

Mmmm, knot, is it? For the first time that day, Ysilla doesn't feel the stinging strike of her ignorance. Whatever Aemond means, from the way he whispers that promise to her, assures her he will only bring her the greatest of pleasure. 

"Then I best get you out of here, shouldn't I?" She steals another kiss and nips at his lip for good measure. A love bite. Aemond groans as she pulls away, and the palm on her back slides down to cup the back of her thigh. He squeezes the pillowy softness of her, and tries not to bust out of his breeches at the way her body just gives for him.

A question in her gaze is answered by the apprehension in his. She rubs her thumb over his knuckles and gives him that grin again, and all feels right in the world.  

"I'll be back, promise."

He dusts his lips over the back of her hand, scenting her with his spiced attar. He likes the perfume the two of them make- it'll smell even better when his bed is soaked in it. 

"I'll be waiting."

.

.

.

Qyybor . Uncle

zaldrītsos . little dragon

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[ba9go]

not your cookie-cutter love story

bakugou katsuki x reader

bakugou katsuki overhears you whining about your cookie craving. he bakes you cookies. fluff and confessions!! (sfw)

part 3/3 of the cookie craving collection (completed)

more cookies for you? part 1 (sfw) 🍪 part 2 (sfw)

you can't remember the last time you ate a cookie, but you were craving cookies, and you just had to make sure everybody in the common room knew that you were craving cookies too.

"coooooooooookieeeee," you groaned for what must've been the umpteenth time, sinking further into the sofa. you sat between kirishima and mina, and they both winced.

"like... the chocolate chip kind?" kirishima asks, scratching the side of his head. "why don't you ask sato? i'm sure he—"

"already did," mina sighs, shaking her head. "didn't quite hit the spot, did it, baby?"

you shook your head with a pout. you flop your head onto mina's shoulder, and she pats your head.

kirishima blinks, perplexed, but he nods anyway. he hums, then gets into The Thinker pose, hand under his chin and brows furrowed. he thinks, ponders, then—

"have you tried bakugou?"

mina's head turns to look at you so fast you're worried she snapped her damn neck off, but the twinkling stars in her eyes and the teasing lilt in her voice has you sighing (and not in worry).

"oh. em. GEE!!! bakugou??? that's GENIUS, kiri, you're a GENIUS!!! you gotta do it, y/n, c'mon, this is your chance to—"

you slap a hand over mina's mouth. you smile at sweet, innocent kirishima, who looks both startled and petrified by you.

"my chance to satisfy my cookie craving! mina's right, you're a genius, kiri! thank you!" you continue smiling, and kirishima still looks petrified. mina's talking against your hand, saying something, actually maybe she's screaming a little?

kirishima laughs nervously and makes a mental note to not mess with you when you're craving cookies.

and that's how you ended up in front of bakugou's door later that evening.

"b- bakugou?" you call nervously.

knock knock.

it was 7:42pm, and you were worried. everyone knew that bakugou went to bed early, and you'd be lucky if bakugou didn't blast your face off on sight. honestly, getting bakugou to open the door is one thing, but how the fuck is he going to take your stupid cookie request—

the door swings open so fast, you physically startle, and you're greeted by bakugou himself.

bakugou's wearing his aji fry tee and a pair of long, fuzzy sweatpants. he looks so... domestic. his toothbrush sticks out from between his usual downturned lips, and you can't help but notice the small bit of frothy toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.

he looks adorable.

"i- it's me," you announced dumbly, with a nervous wave.

bakugou glares at you, but steps backwards, holding the door open with his foot. he beckons you into his room with a sharp jerk of his head, and you think you must be dreaming.

you follow bakugou into his room meekly and close the door behind you gently. you stand by the foot of his bed as he walks into his bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

"what." he asks flatly after he walks out the bathroom. bakugou walks past you to sit on his bed, back leaning against the headboard.

"well, uh, the thing is..." you cringed. this was it. you were certain that these were going to be your final words before bakugou blasts you straight to hell. "i've kind of been craving—"

"cookies."

"huh?" you turn to bakugou gaping like a god damn fish. he raises a brow at you questioningly. "how did you—"

"shitty hair told me," bakugou interrupts you. he frowns and sighs, running a hair through spiky but soft blond hair. you kind of want to pet it. "multiple times. the whole week."

you squeak(?) in embarrassment. oh god. kirishima. knowing the redhead, he couldn't have possibly had any ill intentions... but still... you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"wh- what... exactly did kirishima say?" you kind of regretted asking that. maybe you'd be better off not knowing.

"that you thought sato's cookies sucked ass," bakugou folds his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes.

"that is not true, and that is not what i said! sato's the best baker i know!"

"that so?" bakugou opens a single eye to look at you. you're simultaneously terrified and absolutely enthralled by that challenging glint in his eyes. "explain why you're here then. you want a room tour or some shit?"

bakugou breaks into a shit-eating grin as the flush on your cheeks deepens. you realise you're still standing awkwardly by the foot of his bed. you realise you're here, in bakugou's room, making a big fool out of yourself, trying to swallow both your embarrassment and your overwhelming feelings for him. god, this was so embarrassing.

you can't do this. you look away and down at the floor, face still burning. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, and try to regather your thoughts. this was fine. you're going to apologise, leave, and things will go back to normal tomorrow. yup, this was totally fine—

you feel a sharp flick against your forehead. you flinch, and you open your eyes to see that bakugou has moved himself away from his headboard, and is now sitting in front of you, at the foot of his bed. he doesn't look so smug now.

"oi." bakugou's hand falls, and you feel his fingers brush lightly against your knuckles. you look down, but his hands are already resting in his lap. you realise how tightly your hands are clenched by your sides, and try to relax.

"don't look so stressed," bakugou says gruffly, looking pointedly away from you. he's frowning yet again, but you don't sense any irritation from him. "was just fuckin' around."

oh. you blink. was bakugou trying to apologise?

"i- i know," you voice comes out as a whisper. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to cause you any trouble—"

bakugou snorts. "yer makin' it sound like cookies are difficult to bake," he looks back at you with a roll in his eyes. you realise he's trying to lighten the mood for the both of you, in his own way. it's working. you feel a tiny smile tugging at your lips. and maybe you're imagining things, but you swear that the furrow between bakugou's brows relaxes slightly.

"well, they're not easy either," you retort. you decide you're tired of standing, and sit next to bakugou on his bed. you guess bakugou's okay with it, considering that he doesn't shove you off the bed with an elbow to your ribs. you try to chase your nerves away.

"anybody with eyes and hands can make cookies."

"sure, but what about good cookies? like, actually good cookies. not just your basic chocolate chip."

bakugou's frown comes back in full force.

"ya tryna say i got shit taste buds or sumn'?"

"no," you scoff. "i'm saying that you've probably never had a good cookie. probably don't know how to make one either."

bakugou's eyes narrow at you, and you grin back at him.

"m'gonna make you eat your words," bakugou declares, crossing his arms over his chest. he glares at you, but it's missing his usual heat.

"really?!" you look at bakugou with stars in your eyes, and the way he flinches is kind of funny. "you're really gonna make cookies for me??" you sound so hopeful. maybe a little too hopeful, you realise.

but bakugou doesn't waver. he doesn't tear his eyes from your starry, lovestruck gaze. he just nods.

"yeah."

you practically skipped your way back to your dorm room. you were excited, and you rolled around in your bed restlessly and finally drifted asleep at god knows what hour.

you woke up the next morning to new messages.

(3) new messages

bakugou💣: You up? delivered 9:24am

bakugou💣: Nvm delivered 10:09am

bakugou💣: Just come to my room later delivered 10:12am

you had never gotten ready quicker your whole life.

you: SORRYYY i slept in a little im omw rn!!!

bakugou💣 reacted 👍 to your message.

bakugou didn't seem to be in his room when you knocked.

"bakugou?" you called again. you knocked a few more times, before finally pulling away from where your ear was against the door.

you fished your phone out of your pocket.

you: im outside!!! delivered 10:32am

you: wru? delivered 10:34am

you're about to send another message when you hear the rustling of plastic and footsteps along the corridor.

you turn to see bakugou walking towards you with hands full of groceries bags. you run walk quickly towards him, mentally noting how you probably looked like a dog chasing a stick.

you grip and tug at a few of the bags, offering to help hold them, but bakugou simply grunts and tugs them away from your grasp. you give up eventually.

"bakugou, we're making cookies right? you bought so much! was it expensive? let me pay you b—"

"kitchen." bakugou interrupts. a warm hand wraps around your wrist firmly. you flush, and look down to see that he's somehow managed to transfer all of the grocery bags to one hand. he ignores your protests as he drags you down the corridor, towards the kitchen.

bakugou only drops your wrist when he starts to unpack the groceries on the countertop.

"bakugou," you say almost pleadingly. "where's the receipt?"

"ate it."

"i know you didn't eat it."

"but i did?" bakugou's gaze flickers up and away from the groceries as he glances at you with his best pokerface, even arching a brow at you. you can't help the smile on your face. gosh, he was so stubborn.

"i'll just pay you 20 bucks then."

"nah."

"25."

"no."

"30."

"i'll pay you 30 to shut the fuck up."

"fine!" you let out a soft hmph, and move to sit by the kitchen island, crossing your arms. you keep them crossed even after bakugou finishes unpacking the groceries, and walks over to stand in front of you.

he pokes your bicep once. then twice. you don't budge.

without warning, bakugou's hands fall to your waist. you scream in fear before his fingers even move, and you try to squirm away, but it's too late—

"stop, stop!!" you cry, tears springing to your eyes. each tickle of his fingertips grazing your skin draws another bout of giggles from between your lips. you watch his evil grin spread. "i can't— please, i surrender!!"

bakugou looks so smug when he finally releases you.

"what'd you do that for?" you complained, rubbing your sides.

"you were too quiet."

"you told me to shut up!"

"so?"

"you piece of—"

"heeeyyyyyy!!!"

"shhh!!!! don't ruin the moment, idiot!!!"

you both whip around to see mina slapping kaminari in the arm. kirishima trails closely behind them, looking sheepish. you wince.

"morning, y/n, bakubro!" bless kirishima and his pure heart for trying to save the situation.

"heyyyy, lovebirds!" you wonder if kaminari has a death wish.

"FUCK OFF, ALL OF YOU!!!!!!"

you have to physically hold bakugou back from grabbing a metal pan to thwack kaminari in the head.

"look, we didn't mean to interrupt you guys, i swear!" kirishima raises both his hands up defensively. "we just want to toast up the pizza in the fridge for breakfast, alright? we'll scram afterwards!!"

bakugou refuses to let any of them step foot into the kitchen, not when he's already laid out all the bakingware and the ingredients nice and proper. you play peacemaker, and offer to toast the pizza for them. bakugou agrees.

it works. it's peaceful for a while. no death threats or yelling. just bakugou glaring at the ticking toaster oven like he's trying to explode it with just his eyes.

but all hell breaks loose when kaminari speaks up again.

"what is that?" kaminari squints and points at the red tub sitting on the countertop. he reads the label. "gochujang? isn't that spicy?"

and bakugou turns around, red-faced with anger. you rack your brain for a way to save kaminari's life. how, how, how. but kaminari continues,

"bakugou, are you sure you know how to make cookies?"

"you fucking dunceface, i'm going to fucking—"

you grab bakugou's arm with one hand and pull him towards you. he looks at you with angry eyes that widen in shock when your other arm snakes behind his neck.

"what the hell do you think you're—"

you yank him down and press your lips firmly against his.

bakugou's lips are soft. they feel slightly chapped against yours, and you resist the urge to lick them wet with your tongue. you close your eyes, and imagine how good it must feel to make out with bakugou, to have his tongue in your mouth—

your lips part slightly, and you can't help the tiny moan that escapes. your eyes fly open immediately.

bakugou is completely still, just looking at you with eyes blown wide.

you hear mina gasp, a loud slapping noise, and kirishima's hushed, scolding voice. you hear rustling, maybe some muffled protests, and a whispered "sorry!" before it's finally quiet.

you pull back slightly, but bakugou pulls you back in the moment your lips leave his. he finally wraps a strong arm around your waist and holds you flushed against him.

he doesn't kiss you. just holds you and stares at you with wide eyes.

"bakugou," you murmur softly. "i like you. i've liked you for a while now."

bakugou is blushing, you realise, watching his eyes flutter close. he ducks his head towards your shoulder and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"yeah?" his breath is hot against your neck when he whispers against your skin. "i think i like you too."

BONUS:

kaminari has a death wish.

you can't blame him! he's just curious. he didn't want to interrupt anything, he just wanted a peek, you know? it was so rare to bakugou calm, much less domestic.

earlier in the morning, kaminari and kirishima visited the little grocery store to pick up some protein bars (well, only kirishima got protein bars. kaminari got chocolate.)

kaminari was surprised to see the buy-2-get-1-free promotion, but even more surprised to see bakugou with not one, but two baskets. full of... flour, sugar and eggs?

"bakubro!" kirishima waves excitedly. bakugou just nods in acknowledgement. "what're you doing—"

kaminari watches kirishima's eyes flicker to bakugou's baskets. right??? isn't that so odd??? kaminari expects kirishima to be as confused as he feels right now.

but kirishima only smiles, a little too knowingly. kaminari knows he's a bit of an idiot, but he doesn't enjoy feeling like an idiot. right now, he feels like an idiot who's been left out of a huge secret.

"that's really manly of you," kirishima smiles, nodding approvingly. "have fun, bro!"

bakugou nods at kirishima's words.

kaminari is seriously confused. he's even more confused after the stunt you pulled in the kitchen. right in front of his virgin eyes? how could you!

it's okay. a little snooping won't hurt, right?

half an hour after kirishima's dragged him into his room, kaminari sneaks out of him room and back to the kitchen.

he sees a huge ball of dough on the countertop. bakugou's pinching off pieces and rolling them into balls between his palms, and you're standing really close to him, kaminari notices.

you wrap an arm around bakugou's bicep, and kaminari thinks you're doomed. you're going to get your face blown off, he thinks.

but bakugou leans down towards you and presses a kiss to your cheek. you turn to look up at him. you're beaming, and kaminari has never seen bakugou look so... soft.

"you're really good at this, bakugou."

"call me katsuki." kaminari's jaw slackens. he is starting to regret his decision to snoop.

"really?" you ask excitedly. bakugou nods.

"katsuki!"

"i told you to stay out of it, man."

he turns around to see kirishima standing behind him with his arms crossed. kirishima sighs, and kaminari feels jealous, disgusted, and guilty all at once.

I FINALLY RECOVERED!!! this took so long for me to write, i had a weird mental block on top of being sick, and tumblr deleted one of my drafts right after i got hit by inspiration!!! im so sorry this took forever, but thank you guys for being so kind and patient 🥹🥹 you guys are the best. again, thank you for reading!!!!

...nsfw part 4 where they get messy in the kitchen? :D

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s @deimosjay @iguanahykhv @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @deimosjay @notmeduhh

[general-kenobis]

don't you give up (i won't give up) | E.M

Summary: Eddie is hanging between life and death during the events in the Upside Down | Modern Hawkins

Pairing: Eddie Munson x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of blood, injuries. Smut (p in v) 18+ MDNI, fingering, aftercare. (I thought about the title inspired by "Let Me Love You" by Justin Bieber. I know it's completely random, but trust the process)

°♡•☆

The first few seconds of what just happened before your eyes will forever haunt you. There's something too inexplicable about everything you've been going through the past weeks. While Steve, Nancy and Robin went after Vecna, you stayed behind with Dustin and Eddie.

The latter was thrown on the floor, blood coming out of him nonstop as the demobats fed off his flesh. You could only let out a whisper of horror before you rushed to him, kneeling beside his limp body. He was still breathing, but the amount of red fluid leaving his mouth was shocking. He was almost gargling on it. Your first instinct was to rip off your shirt and start to cover his wounds, carefully moving his head to the side so he wouldn't choke.

I used to believe

We were burnin' on the edge of somethin' beautiful

Somethin' beautiful

Dustin came right next, his voice screaming painfully loud as he seemed petrified at the sight. You don't remember how you were able to speak, but you told him you needed to leave with Eddie right at that moment. He was wheezing, his skin becoming rigid and he was probably beginning to feel shock.

"What the f-fuck is happening? What is happening?" His tone was desperate and aggravating as the minutes went by.

It didn't dawn on you how long you would have to run until you got to the gate in his trailer. And you wouldn't be able to hold him while riding the bike. The longer it took you, the more terrified you felt. The more he was starting to feel his body become unbearable. Dustin had a sprained ankle, he was doing his best to run after you while holding his friend for dear life.

Sellin' a dream

Smoke and mirrors keep us waitin' on a miracle

On a miracle

When you finally made it to the trailer, Jonathan and Hopper were waiting for you to pick him up, as you tied him to the sheet that separated both worlds. They pulled him first, the chief rushing to get him to the hospital, while Jonathan helped you and Dustin next. He drove you afterwards, a dreadful sensation of what could happen to him. The realization that it wouldn't have been enough to save him.

He stayed in the ICU for days, tied to machines and barely breathing from swallowing blood. His lungs were filled with liquid because of that, his wounds ended up being infected.

There wasn't a day that wouldn't go missing without you or your friends visiting him and Max. His Hellfire friends, especially the younger ones, would read comics to him every day. Eleven tried to do telepathy, willing to make sure how he was healing. It was slow, barely any improvement. But no one would lose faith that he would get better, just like Max.

Say, go through the darkest of days

Heaven's a heartbreak away

Never let you go, never let me down

It felt like ages, but it took him nearly two months to recover slightly, until he woke up. You weren't there when it happened, Robin and Steve were there and they both made an entire show about it in the hall. He was still alive, but still hanging on. His skin was paler, his features were skinnier, hollowed cheeks were too evident on his face.

His hair was clearly in need of a good care, and his voice was hoarse from the lack of speaking. There was still a lot to recover, and each time he would have someone visit him, he would never get bored. You were all doing different things with him, making sure he would distract himself from the memories of what had happened.

Whenever you would get in, his face would light up. Brown eyes glinting with joy of seeing you. Eddie would always freeze when asked about how he felt or what he remembers from that day. His mind goes spiraling at the thought of it. He doesn't remember the last few minutes.

He remembers the bats ripping his skin off, the sound of flesh being pulled out of him, too shocked to even react. At times, he swears he can still feel the sensation. He needs to take sleeping pills, otherwise he would never sleep. And even if he does, his brain draws out the event repeatedly.

Oh, it's been a hell of a ride

Driving the edge of a knife

Never let you go, never let me down

Eddie needs to do therapy twice a week. It doesn't get easier with time, it gets more bearable. It gnaws him to the point of him wishing he could shut his mind off from everything. El can't do much for him when he asks for help, she can only see the trauma, the stress and the pain from all of it. You walk through it all with him.

You make him let it all out, you give him comforting words and a reassuring smile that things can get better. A deep sigh always escapes his lips when he's with you. He felt that before everything happened, but when shit went down, he didn't have time to work it out. He almost forgot.

Your feather light touch makes his skin numb, in a good way. The touch almost burns the spot. When you hold his hand, he yearns from the thought of interlacing his fingers with yours. He hates to see himself that skinny, thinking he looks too hideous. You're not focusing on it, not in the slightest. He misses you when you kiss his forehead goodbye, tugging at his bangs when you fix them. He would ask you to stay the night and make him company and you would never refuse it.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

You've seen him growing out of the fear, of the reluctance of being out in the world again. Months later, and he was feeling like himself again. He started working, giving himself a new life. Eddie didn't want to let everything that Vecna did to be a part of his memory.

°♡•☆

You're sitting across from him at the table as you play poker. He taught you how to play during the days he spent in the hospital. You see the way he cages his lower lip between his teeth, fingertips tapping against the cards in his hands. Everyone seems to be enjoying the sunny summer day at the pool at Steve's cabin. A year later, and you all decided to celebrate his rebirth, his life. Somewhere across Hawkins, the teens are celebrating Max as well.

You wait until his next move, but he takes longer than necessary to play. "Oh my God, will you stop fucking bluffing and just play?"

He feigned a gasp and lowered the cards from his face, enough to look at you through his sunglasses.

"Don't interrupt the master, baby. He's focused" You roll your eyes, using your instep to swat his knee under the table. "Ow! Is that really necessary?"

"I should be asking you the same, you moron."

Eddie doesn't take the mocking insult to heart, stalling on purpose this time just to see you become furious at him. Robin keeps delivering small pieces of barbecue to you two, as well as the drinks Nancy has been making to everyone.

He seems to ponder before placing his cards over the table. Three of a kind, which means he got 3 cards of the same value. You try to hold back a smirk, but he notices right away, slumping against his chair.

Don't fall asleep

At the wheel, we've got a million miles ahead of us

Miles ahead of us

"Fuck off. No way!" His voice is loud enough for your friends to suddenly gather around. They like to be the audience whenever you two play, only because they know how competitive he can be. "No, no, no. Nuh-uh"

His denial is almost too adorable. He knows he's about to lose when you playfully push your tongue between your teeth and grin. A shit eating grin.

"Well, well, pretty boy. See for yourself" You display your cards and you hear your friends exclaiming in surprise.

You got a full house. And Eddie isn't surprised. He can be smug all he wants, he knows when he's going to lose. He's a sore loser as well.

You bring your hand over your ear and move your head to the side, mocking him "Master of what now?"

"Shut up" He mumbles in complete denial.

"You're just bad at it, Munson. Just admit it" Jonathan pinches his cheek and shakes it, earning a slap on his forearm.

"Whatever. I'm going for a swim" Eddie straightens up from his chair, lifting his swim shorts as he fixes the straps.

You watch him pick up the cards and organize them into the small box. His lips are curled upwards, but his hair almost covers the way he's trying to smile. He likes to see you winning against him. He swears he doesn't cheat for you to win, he loves seeing you cheer whenever he loses. Truth to his friends' words, he's definitely a sore loser, but he doesn't mind you winning.

Eddie pulled some weight after he left the hospital. He was definitely more fit. Not muscly, but absolutely in shape, just like Steve. You can see his stomach fold just enough. His arms are thicker than before and he has a lot more to grab, even his thighs. He covered his scars with tattoos from things he likes. Your favorite one being the snake wrapped around a sword over his left side.

All that we need

Is a rude awakening to know we're good enough (yeah)

Know we're good enough

"Nice round, love. I'm glad I taught you well" Eddie gives you a sympathetic smile before sprinting to the pool, throwing himself at the water as it almost splashes at Vickie, who's sunbathing.

You watch from your seat as he laughs at the jokes Jonathan makes, at the way he's so unbothered to be shirtless after everything that happened. To his demeanor when he talks with Robin and Nancy. Steve pulls a lounge chair beside yours and sighs deeply, putting his sunglasses on as he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

"He seems pretty happy" He says, taking a swig from his beer and you nod in agreement. "Never thought I would see him smiling ever again after that."

The man next to you also carries scars along his body. His neck has a fading mark from when a demobat choked him, his sides also have bite marks from their teeth. He didn't hide like Eddie did, but he doesn't care they're there, it means he survived.

"It's like nothing ever happened, but I know he has nightmares sometimes. I like to see him this way, like he never lived it."

Steve knows. He knows more than anyone, even more so than Robin, that you carry feelings for his best friend. He’s always known, before things went to shit. And he’s also very aware that the metalhead likes you too. It’s been a few months ever since he gripped your hands and talked off his feelings, asking you to wait. He wanted to heal first, he wanted to feel better before anything could happen between you two, and you agreed to it. You gave him space, you respected his wish and showed him support. You were still waiting, still lingering on the thought of finally being with him. 

Say, go through the darkest of days

Heaven's a heartbreak away

Never let you go, never let me down

“God, birdie. Stop gawking at him, it’s gonna burn holes on his body and it’s not like he doesn’t have scars already” He nudges your elbow playfully and you flip him off, ruffling his hair. 

“Shut up, Harrington.” He’s still chuckling, looking at you with amusement. You frowned, but deep inside you knew you were staring too much at him. 

You’ve spent the entire day by the pool, almost getting sunburnt from how long you’ve all stayed out. You’ve had dinner at the table outside, relishing on the starry sky above you. The moon shined upon you, the pool water reflecting its beauty. You all smoked a joint after eating, sprawled out either on the lounge chair or on the grass around the place. You played Uno before most of your friends decided to go inside and get some rest, leaving just you and Eddie alone. 

He had his Spotify on the big speaker, a faint song by some band he likes playing while you two just enjoyed each other’s company. He was scrolling through his phone, snorting at something random every few minutes. You were just watching him. 

“You’re not being subtle, love. What is it?” He asked all of a sudden, lifting his eyes from his phone to look at you, and you just shrug. “No, don’t start with that thing with me.”

“What, I can’t look? Isn’t that the whole purpose of having eyes?” You play oblivious, resting your chin over your hands, your elbows bent above the table. 

Eddie chuckles at your response and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, smartass. You know what I mean.”

You get up from the lounge chair and walk towards the edge of the pool, sitting down, dropping your feet over the water. He stays behind on the table, watching you with curious eyes and a big question mark over his head. 

“It’s… I love seeing you. I love the idea of having you around, knowing you’re still alive.” You feel him sitting beside you, water almost knee deep. “I love the way you still joke around us and how you enjoy yourself.”

Oh, it's been a hell of a ride

Driving the edge of a knife

Never let you go, never let me down

He smiles. It’s not a sad one, but it’s also not a happy one either. It comes with some kind of pain from the memories of the past event. He ponders for a good minute and something snaps inside of him. The realization of what he’s been witnessing the past few months crashing down on him. Eddie had always seen the way you looked at him, the way you would always take care of him, he knows you’ve talked about feelings before, but he wasn’t sure you would still wait for him after all. And then, right there, sitting next to you, he decides to push aside any fear, and uses one of his hands to slide over your lap, reaching your fingers. He grips your hand, tight, and turns over to look at you. 

You do the same, and you watch the way his eyes sparkle with something you can’t decipher. And then, out of nowhere, he pulls you into the water with him, barely having time to react to his idea. His hand never left yours, even when you almost reach the bottom, trying to swat him away as you make your way to the surface.

You breathe out, heaving for the lack of air. He comes out of the water, breaking in laughter as his hair sticks to his face.

"You motherfuc–" He doesn't let you finish, spitting water towards you, cackling at the way you contort from annoyance. "Eddie! What was that for?"

He places both hands on your waist, still smiling at you with a devilish grin. "And I love the way you look at me. I love the way you've always cared for me, the way you always took care of me"

You soften at his touch and his words, feeling his fingertips against your skin. The led lights from the pool changed colors each second. You feel the hardness of the edge of the pool as he cages you. His hair is still sticking to his face, almost hiding his features, and you lift a hand to move the strands. He purses his lips, that are still curled upwards, taking in your soft touch on his skin. Your palm is spread over his jawline, thumb ghosting over his cheek.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

You watch him tilt his head, eyes frozen at you. "I love the way you look at me too" You almost whisper.

"I... I think I'm ready" He speaks up again, closing the distance between your bodies when his chest hovers over you. He brings one hand over your face as well, his fingertips grazing the nape of your hair.

"Are you sure?" You're feeling your heart rate pick up at the sight of him. Tattoos spread all over his body, small marks of scars peeking out of the ink that don't cover them all.

Eddie nods and bites his lower lip, leaving a deep sigh. He brings his forehead to rest against yours, and his mouth is merely inches from touching your mouth.

"God, I've wanted this for as long as I can remember. I just needed time" You can sense the nervousness coating his tone, but his hands are firm on you.

Your other hand holds his wrist for support "I'm so–"

He doesn't waste time letting you finish, finally closing the distance and crashing his lips against yours. Desperate fingers tangle your hair when he lashes out, his tongue touching your ferociously. He can still taste like weed, a faint taste of the wine he had as well, and you whimper against his mouth.

"God, don't do that" He pleads with his mouth still attached to yours. Your free hand goes up to his curls, raking your fingers over them. Your tongues clash against each other in a savoring kiss.

Eddie tries to stay focused on the moment, but he wants to drown in you. He wants to feel you entirely. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth and groans in urgency. You can feel his fingertips digging on your waist, his body almost leaning against you, almost buckling forward to feel you deeper.

You pull out to take a breath, filling your lungs with air as you try to soothe your own heart. "I want more, Eddie."

He's not surprised when you say it out loud. He'd been wanting this too. Especially with you. "Yeah, me too, baby."

He pulls you against him as he walks towards the steps in the pool, reaching for the shallow surface. He walks to the table and grabs the towel for both of you, messily drying himself so fast you bet he's still going to be wet. 

Since you were sharing the bedroom with Robin, you both go to Eddie's bedroom. He didn't want to share a room with Steve and you're glad he didn't. He closes the door behind him, eyes lingering at you, at the way you're eagerly waiting for it to happen as much as he does. He rushes a few steps towards you, cupping your face, moving his lips to yours once more. He kisses you like he needs air, like it's the last thing he wants to do. You feel the back of your knees hitting the foot of the bed, flopping down as you watch him with lust.

You look at his body, at the way his chest rises and falls, at how there's a tattoo peeking out of the hem of his swim shorts. He's quick to pick a condom from his drawer, leaving it to the side, immediately climbing on the bed. His body hovers over you, his hair cascading over his shoulders. He spread sweet, wet kisses along your neck, your collarbones and your chest, between your breasts and under them. He uses his hand to untie the straps of your bikini top, slowly pulling them off, fingertips ghosting against your skin as he starts to reveal your nipple.

The air that leaves his lips touches your sensitive spot and it makes you shiver. You let out a shocked gasp when he flattens his tongue over your hardened nipple, leaving a languish lick. Eddie circles your skin softly, using his free hand to slide over your stomach, reaching your bikini bottom. You don't want to overthink how the fuck he's such an expert at it, so you shut your brain down and focus on him. His fingers slip under the fabric, spreading your cunt, collecting your wetness.

"Oh God, Eddie" You mewled, feeling him humming against your breast. You know you're too far gone at this point and he just got started.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He strokes your slit up and down, circling your clit almost lightly. It's staggering, it makes your head dizzy. Your eyes roll back to your skull when he sucks your nipple, hollowing his checks when he pulls pressure to it. His ring and middle finger slip inside of you smoothly, ripping a moan out of you. Eddie knows he's not going to last long, because it's been a long time ever since he had sex. And also because the sounds you make are like lullabies to him.

He pumps his fingers and curls them into you, making you roll your hips in reflex. He flicks his tongue over your nipple and it drives you to the edge of sanity. Your hand flies up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of his curls as you pull it back. He loves the way you have no idea how hard you're pulling his hair but he loves it. His fingers leave your cunt and you whine. The feeling of missing his touch is almost unbearable. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them off as he tastes you. It leaves you in awe at the sight of him almost falling apart for you.

Eddie slowly removes your bikini top, not ever leaving his eyes from yours. You clash your lips again, tongues almost interlacing together. He helps you remove the last piece of clothing you have before getting rid of his own shorts. His cock springs free, tip leaking with precum and length pulsing with anticipation. You take your time relishing at the sight, swallowing harshly. You want to gag on him, you want to choke on him. You reach to hold his shaft and he stops you.

"We'll have plenty of time, baby. I want you to have a good time" He rasps, lying on his back. He's waiting for you, holding your hand.

You just nod as you shoot him a smile, grabbing the condom from the nightstand. You crawl back, legs on each side of his outer thighs, a thundering feeling coursing through your veins until it reaches your stomach. You don't know how you don't feel shy or embarrassed of being completely naked for him, but he doesn't either. You hold his cock, stroking him gently a few times, swiping off the liquid from his tip down to his shaft. He buckles his hips upwards in response, cursing through his teeth.

You wrap him and, before you even sit on top of him, you take in his body. The way he lies pretty for you, the way his chest looks good from that angle. Your hands roam through his body, your fingertips slithering over his tattoos. You can see the way he hairs on his skin all stand up from your touch.

"You're so beautiful, Eddie. So gorgeous" You whisper to him, memorizing every inch of his body.

He's mesmerized, he watches you from that position and all he wants to do is spend his life like that. "You're too beautiful, love. You're a sight to sore eyes."

His grin grows wide when you shy away. One of your hands slips down his torso until it reaches his cock again. He throws his hair back and inhales painfully. You line yourself above him, guiding his tip through your folds, rubbing it against your clit. You bite your lower lip from the contact and his hands hold your waist for leverage. You slowly start sinking, your cunt enveloping his hardness entirely until he's deep into your walls.

Your jaw goes slack and you can't hold back the moan that leaves your lips. He can't keep his eyes open, mouth agape as well. "Fuck that's so good, baby." His voice drops an octave and his tone becomes husky, and you clench around him at the sound of it.

You start to move your hips back and forth, eyes trained at him all the time. Your palms are flat against his chest, while he digs his nails on your skin. One thing you've come to love about it, is the way he doesn't care he's being vocal. He praises you the entire time, he keeps his voice low so only you can hear it. Eddie brings you forward, your body leaning against his chest. He snakes both arms around you and holds your waist firmly. It brings you closer to him, it makes you feel different sensations.

He starts pounding on you, ripping off a gasp from you as you bury your face against his shoulder. It muffles your whining and your moaning. He pumps inside of you, the tip of his cock hitting your walls as you clench again. The more you do it, the more excited he gets.

"You're too fucking good, love. Taking me so well, God" He whispers over your ear, one of his hands coming up to grab a fistful of your hair as he pulls it hard just like you did.

You jolt your head back, barely keeping your eyes open, while looking at him through hazy eyes. Your crying fills the air along with the slapping sound of his hip against your ass. "Fuck, Eddie. Just like that."

"I want you to come for me, baby. Please, I'm gonna cum" He's desperate, almost panting. His fingers dig deeper into your skin as his cock is rock hard.

You start to roll your hips around him, your eyes meet the back of your head one more time. Eddie moans your name, heaving sweet nothings as he feels the coil about to snap inside of him. He drops his hands to squeeze your ass, thrusting upwards to meet you in the middle.

You're the first to feel the dizzying apex as your toes curl and your fingers squeeze his chest. Your pussy throbs around his cock, clenching as you feel your blood pressure rise. Your pulse is beating too fast, and you're mumbling incoherent words. Your hips stutter and you can't move as you cum around Eddie, who's about to sputter into his condom.

"Jesus– Fuc– Shit" He curses through the dazed orgasm. His cock twitches inside of you, jolting an electricity that crosses his veins. His eyes flutter shut, while he waits for his high to come down.

You smile at him, even though he doesn't see it. You're both a mess of panting and sweat, trapped into each other. You still ride him out of his orgasm and he jumps with the overstimulation.

"God, don't do that" Eddie whines when you freeze on your spot and giggle at him. "It hurts. Jesus, baby."

You can't get over the pet name. He calls you that 98% of the time and you love it.

You stay sat on him, feeling your body limp. He's becoming soft after a couple of minutes like that and you both hiss when you pull yourself up. He finds the towel to wrap it around his waist and disappears only for a few seconds before walking to the bed with a paper towel. The aftercare makes your heart flutter. It's even more sweet when he glances at you with a lopsided smile. His bangs are tousled and sticking to his forehead. He flops onto the bed close to you, handing you a shirt and your bikini bottom.

When you're finally dressed, he spoons you. His head leans on the crook of your neck and you can feel he's breathing evenly.

"You know" He speaks up, fingers slipping between yours "I knew I loved you when you said you wanted to help Wayne with the steps of the trailer. My old man thought you and I had something going on that day."

You grin widely at the memory. You were at his place just to pick up your phone charger, but Eddie was busy in the bathroom at the same time his uncle had to leave to run a few errands. You helped him walk down the steps because he had issues with them, just like the stairs. His hip problem prevented him from doing simple things like that.

"And then when you wanted to watch us play D&D. After we started spending more time together, I noticed how nervous I would get around you. And one day Steve told me about the difference between being in love and loving someone. You can't have either sometimes, and I realized I had both."

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He scooted even closer to you "I remember that day. When they flew right at me. The look of fear in your eyes. I was afraid of losing you too. I was afraid of you losing me."

You could hear the wavering in his voice "Eddie, I thought I lost you right there."

He squeezed you tighter "I saw the way you ran. The way you tried to make me stay awake. I almost said it, the way I wished I could've always said. Not just a simple 'I love you'."

You move your head to the side, turning over to try and look at him.

"You're it for me, birdie. I love you so much. I've always loved you and always you. And I'm so glad I have met you. You're my angel."

Your stomach twists to a tight knot at the revelation. You loved him too. You were never able to say it the way you should've said long before either. Because you do.

"I love you too, Eds. Love you like I never did before."

"Thank you for showing up in my life. Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

"I think Eddie and Robin would be very offended if they heard you" You chuckle as you turn on your side to fully face him.

"Think they're going to be pissed at me and you either way after tonight."

You open your mouth and he laughs at the way your features display some sort of desperation "You think they heard us?"

"I think even the trees heard us, sweetheart."

You slap him on the shoulder, watching him hold back the loudest cackle he wanted to let out. "I'm kidding, jeez. You're so mean when you're not riding me."

He shields himself with his pillow when you straighten up to hit him with another slap. "What's wrong with you? We're not fifteen."

"I'm just kidding! God help me when you're in a bad mood."

"I'm never in a bad mood."

"Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror when you're on your period?" You almost choke on your own spit at the statement.

"How did we manage to change the topic so fast?"

He laughs when you giggle and you both share a look.

"We've always shared the same vibe, baby. Dark humor, good taste in music and shit. I just had to recover before I was ready. And I'm glad you waited."

He swipes a strand of hair out of your face, pulling it behind your ear. His fingers slither down, reaching your jawline. Your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking his skin.

"I would always wait for you, Munson."

Eddie blushes. It's one of the most sweet and genuine reactions. He purses his lips when he smiles.

He never believed someone could love him, never believed anyone would see him the way you do. And if you had to save him, you would do it all over again. As many times as you needed.

You two shower - not together - and get on his bed. Legs tangled and lazy kisses. He holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your neck as he holds his phone up for both of you. He scrolls through pictures and videos. They're from before Vecna, and it's the first time he's showing you everything he registered. From moments like those when you would all get together, to dull things like his D&D campaigns, rehearsals with his Corroded Coffin band mates and picnic with your friends at Lovers Lake.

There's one picture you love the most. It's one of you two dressed as Steve and Robin when they used to work at Scoops Ahoy. You were at the halloween party Nancy threw at her house almost two years ago. It made your friends lose their shit and the former employees shared an amused look back in the day.

Don't you give up, nah, nah, nah

I won't give up, nah, nah, nah

Let me love you

Let me love you

He's not afraid to go through the pictures and videos of stuff you found about Vecna. He's not even sure how his phone still survived everything. There was no signal between Upside Down and Hawkins. It didn't even work when it was near a gate.

But now, as he faces his smartphone, feeling your warmth beside him, he can't help but feel good he's still alive. He pressed his lips against your forehead and whispered that he loves you.

He likes to think that, a year ago, things changed for the better.

[taojjang]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁.ᐟ riize when you're restless because of a nightmare

genre: fluff reaction! ⁠♡, pairing: bf!riize x implied fem!reader (usage of petnames princess and pretty girl), warnings: slight fear, crying, nightmares/night terrors, angst if u squint

♡⸝⸝ waking up your boyfriend after having a frightening dream

shotaro . . . groggily opens his eyes to the sight of you anxiously tugging on his arm.

he sits up and asks, "what's wrong honey?" he can't help but frown as you shuddered, telling him about the nightmare that ripped you out of your slumber. shotaro hates how helpless he is when you experience night terrors, it's almost like torture to see you waking up in such distress.

he sits up and pulls you closer to his chest, brushing your sweat-soaked hair away from your face. "i'm sorry i couldn't help you, honey... do you need water? should i go make you a snack?"

eunseok . . . jolts awake at the feeling of your hand on his stomach.

after blinking away his sleepy vision, he notices the look of pure distress on your face. once he saw 2:51 am on the bedside clock, he knew you'd probably dreamt of another nightmare.

"did you have another nightmare, darling?" eunseok asks, reaching to rest his hand on your cheek. all you can do is helplessly nod, silently pleading for comfort. he sleepily pulls you down to lie your head on his chest and leaves a soft kiss on your temple. "none of it is real. it'll be okay, sweetheart. close your eyes."

sungchan . . . figures you're just a bit restless as you cuddle closer to him.

but as the dip in the bed grows deeper, he opens his eyes to find you kneeling beside him with tossed hair and a stressed frown. he worriedly places his hand on your thigh, carefully stroking your skin with his thumb.

"i had another nightmare," you complain, resting your hand atop his. sungchan tightly blinks away the urge to close his eyes and holds your hand. "yeah? do you wanna talk about it, princess?" you breathlessly tell him about the petrifying dream you'd just woken up from. once he notices you getting worked up while explaining, he shushes you and pulls you into a warm hug. "it's over now, let's sleep, hm?"

wonbin . . . snaps out of his sleep when you shake him awake.

"what, baby? what happened?" he's still blinking and trying to adjust his eyes to the dark room as you cry to him about your scary dream. once he sees the tears streaming down your face, his eyes soften and you earn his full attention.

your fear is slightly dissipated by the cute pout on wonbin's face as he listens to your rant. he's holding your hand and looking into your teary eyes, trying not to cry himself. once you're finished, he urges you to lie back down and cuddle so you can finally sleep peacefully. "maybe if we cuddle, you won't have those dreams anymore"

seunghan . . . has concern plastered over his face as you jolt out of your sleep.

he immediately sits up and places his hand on your back. "was it another nightmare?" you force a weak nod as the horrifying scenes replay in your mind. seunghan pulls you into a hug, resting his head atop yours after leaving soft kisses there.

"my poor angel... it must've been so scary," he coos as you rest your head on his shoulder. seunghan won't stop easing comforting words into your ears until you start feeling sleepy again. once you tell him you want to rest, he lies the two of you back down on the bed and holds you suffocatingly tight. "i'll keep watch for those nightmares. if you have another one, i'll hug you tighter and squeeze it away!"

sohee . . . is confused as to why you're suddenly cuddled up against his chest and whining.

sohee was falling asleep while watching reels on his phone when your sudden movement woke him right back up. he taps you on the back and asks, "what? did i bother you?"

sohee has to hold back a smile when you tell him you're scared of a nightmare you'd just woken up from. he feels somewhat accomplished that you're seeking comfort from him since you're usually quite self-reliant. he grins and puts his phone on the nightstand before holding you closer with both arms. "those dreams can't hurt you, pretty girl. let's sleep."

anton . . . takes a while to wake up lol

but once he hears your whines, he's immediately springing up to hold you. he worriedly looks down at your frightened frame and notices the tears dripping onto his sweater.

"why are you crying, my love?" you explain through hiccups that you had a scary dream and anton immediately melts. he rests his head atop yours and runs his hand along your arm. "i'm so sorry, love... is there anything i can do for you? do you need something to drink?" you want to reply, but the only thing that leaves your lips are light sobs. he figures you just need a warm hug as you cry onto his shoulder. anton holds you and whispers gentle shushes until you run out of energy, falling asleep in his arms. he leaves a soft kiss on your forehead before tucking the both of you back into bed, making sure not to let go of you until sunrise.

[fic-heaven]

Ghost x witty! Reader

All for a pair of tits.

Pt 2

.

"Glare at my dress all you want, lieutenant. You won't scare it away."

You said putting your long earrings sneaking a look at Ghost's reflection.

He was sitting on the bed behind you looking at the long red dress you had just put on for the undercover mission. He wouldn't say it but you knew it pissed him to the core that you had to go as Kyle's date and not his, but honestly that was his fault. When Price explained the mission and the tasks you were all assigned to accomplish, Ghost threw an unexpected tantrum about how Gaz wasn't fit to go undercover, because as he explained: "Lad's better at killin' than acting." You were sure he was projecting a little. So the captain asked him if he'd rather go with you instead obviously without the mask, Ghost quickly denied. Then he was assigned watch duty while drowning in jealousy, and you bathed in the satisfaction of letting your lieutenant watch your body like a hawk as you prettied yourself up for another man while waiting in the hotel you were all supposed to meet before heading to the party.

Simon looks up at you from his seated position, his rough hands fisting the sheets. He was wearing his stupid Halloween mask so it was hard to know the expression he was hiding.

"I'm just lookin'. That a problem?"

"If you want it off of me you'll have to find another tactic. Or do you rather have Garrick do the unwrapping?" You grinned turning around to face him properly, your lipgloss shining under the dim light of the lamp near the vanity made his chocolate eyes melt at the sight. Ghost licked his lips under his mask, a mere reflection of what he had in mind to do to you if it wasn't for-

"That's unprofessional, and i'm your lieutenant. I told ya too many fucking times. But, hey, dream all y' like..."

"I am sooo thankful that you remind me, dear lieutenant..." You said sarcastically with a dramatic gesture lifting your hand to your head as if you were about to faint and he had saved you with his idiotic words. "But could you please repeat that without a..."

Your finger points to his lower side, he squints confused before looking at where you were pointing, his cargo pants held a gigantic tent he was quick to cover with a pillow before he leans forwards petrified in embarrassment. You laughed amused and impressed at the sight, but for Ghost you were just mocking him cruelly. You were just a horny vixen who took great pleasure on toying around with his carnal desires, often seducing him on purpose just to get a reaction such as this one. He was red in embarrassment and anger, and it only increased when your pretty laugh slowly died and you, for once, decided to stay in silence.

Ghost stood up abruptly. "I see yer ready. I'll warn Price to hurry the fuck up..." But the following words died on his mouth.

You were standing with a soft smile, the beautiful red dress you were wearing hanged limply by your hips as your arms hid your breasts.

"I forgot I didn't zip it and it just..." You shrugged playing clueless "it fell."

Ghost was petrified in place, his wide eyes ate up every detail he could get of your naked chest even though your pretty breasts were hidden. His hard-on worsened.

"Y'need a hand...?" He mustered.

"Among other things..."

Your lieutenant dropped the pillow to the floor missing the bed, he walked up to you in slow, measured steps giving you time to stop this game you just started like you always did, but to his surprise. You did not. You looked up at him, pupils dilated giving him full permission to turn you around with his big rough hands, he moved your hair to your front with his index finger. The moment you were facing the mirror, Ghost was about to lift the sleeves of your dress until your arms unraveled from your chest, his eyes, trained to pick any movement, caught the moment your tits bounced in place by the mirror. His breathing was heavy, slightly uneven and so was yours.

His hands dropped the piece of clothing in other to caress the skin of your back until he reached your ribcage right under your breasts. Again, he waited for you to move away, to stop this game YOU started, but instead you purred tilting your head to the side feeling his burning mask lean against the delicate skin of your neck, he inhaled your perfume, thumbs poking the underside of your tits until your small hands went to lift his to properly hold them, Ghost was quick to firmly massage the surface, your pebbled nipples held such a beautiful shade of color that contrasted with his black skeleton gloves, he wanted to suck them, he wanted to do things he wasn't supposed to.

In that moment Simon realized that the times he spent explaining you how inappropriate it was to flirt with colleagues in this line of work (specially superiors), he truly wasn't trying to warn you, he was trying to convince himself this wouldn't happen because it wasn't well seen. But... But who the fuck cares, really?

"Simon..." You sighed his name and his cock twitched on his pants. "Take these off... It's bad manners to touch a lady this way wearing gloves..."

"You a lady?" He humored.

"Have you seen a gentleman with these tits?"

His chest rumbled with a chuckle, hips making a slow involuntary thrust against your clothed ass seeking friction, you obliged offering your bum for him to thrust on, he hissed in pleasure.

"You'd be surprised..."

You gasped and chuckled "Simon Riley!..."

He quickly turned you around then, big hands roughly grabbed your ass pressing your naked chest against his with a dark but mischievous glint on his eyes reflecting yours. "Wanna compare sizes?"

"Are you for real right now, lieutenant?"

You asked with all the humour in you. But Ghost did not waver taking his shirt off with one swift tug upwards revealing his muscular torso to you, a litter of scars made it the more eye-catching. You stood there looking up at him in awe before your hand pushed him to the bed, he allowed you this, huffing when he dropped to the soft surface, the cold sheets made his skin erupt in goosebumps. His hard, clothed cock created a tent that pressed against his abs when he incorporated a little seating with his arms behind him supporting himself.

"I can't believe I've never seen your face and the first thing you wanna show me is the size of your tits."

"Pectorals." He corrected.

"Those are BOOBS, call them however you like but oh my god..."

You weren't one to complain, positioning yourself in between his legs to climb to the mountain of muscles that composed his body. He smiled under his mask looking at you fondly and helping you wrap your legs around his waist sitting yourself right on his leaking boner. He was enjoying this. You could see it, feel it poking at your panties...

You kiss his masked jaw, one arm around his shoulder and the other hand massages his chest, feeling his gigantic pectorals and the very small pink nipples that adorned both tips. Ghost threw his head back with a sigh angling his head so that you'd keep your soft ministrations with your lips. Kiss, lick, bite, repeat. The way your fingers worked magic on his chest and how your mouth mauled on his skin made your lieutenant grow desperate for more, he still couldn't believe this was happening. His heaving chest shivered in delight, his mouth was half open letting out soft sounds you never thought you'd hear from your lieutenant until he snapped, he flips you under him, the fire within your bodies roaring in waves of desire, a desire denied no longer.

Ghost hovered over you, eyes black with how dilated his pupils were, his hips thrust against yours, dry humping your cunt like a dog in heat. Your lips part with a moan, delicate hands lift to his face waiting for his permission, he gives you a short nod to lift his mask when an abrupt knock on the door startles you.

Ghost sighs, one of his hands take your wrist as the other supports his weight as not to crush you.

"I'M NOT 'ERE!" You yell annoyed.

"Come on (Y/n)!" Gaz's voice sounds from outside "Price is gettin' pissed... And we can't find Ghost or Soap! The event is about to start, I'm already suited up-"

"Alright, alright, Garrick-...Just gimme a moment..."

You crawl from under Ghost, stand up, ready your dress leaving the back unzipped and trot to the small hall, Ghost was watching you as you did this until he saw you were about to open the fucking door. It was comical the way your lieutenant jumped from the bed hurrying to put his shirt on and adjust his boner from under his pants so he wouldn't poke Gaz's eye out when the poor Brit was greeted by the sight of your prettied self standing all proud and smiley and your lieutenant nervously fidgeting on the spot in front the bed.

Gaz stares in silence.

"Zip my dress Gaz! What the hell are you doing gawking like a school boy? There's a party we gotta attend to."

He shakes his head incredulous, gets behind you ignoring the heated stare Ghost was shooting him from the other side of the room and swiftly zips your dress.

"See? Now I'm ready and I had found Ghost, I solved you two problems."

"Three-..." An all too familiar voice came behind you. The bathroom door opens, Soap was staring just as incredulous with a look that resembled the one hundred yards stare.

Ghost barks "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE!?"

Soap replies unfeeling, with no emotion, like a robot or a traumatized husk of a man "This was my room..."

You flinch leaving the place practically throwing yourself out the door with a "JESUS CHRIST -!"

Gaz flinches then at the same time following behind with a squint. "FUCKING-....Close the god-damned door Johnny!" Ghost snarled this time.

"I have a sensitive stomach olrigh'!? And y'all were doing nasty things and I didn't know what to do and a' was locked with ma' shit for half an hour... I FLUSHED OKAY!?" Soap had the gal to play offended. "If it wasn't for Gaz I would have died gassed." He jested, and the tall brit had enough, smacking the wall and storming out frustrated as hell.

Just when he was reaching the jackpot, the jungle he has for a team had to ruin everything.

At least he saw your tits... That will compensate for having to see you dance around with Gaz pretending you two are married.

[en-trashy]

Little love 이희승

Heeseung takes care of his baby alone, after some struggle his wife needs time away and he takes charge of everything.

Tw: slight suggestive almost nothing, fluff daddy Heeseung pure comfort in my opinion

6k words

It was never easy, it started without planning anything, back then Heeseung only felt how she drifted away from him, how she stopped answering or wanting to see him he waited until he couldn't take it anymore going to her apartment waiting in the rain for her to open she was coming back from the convenience store down the street when she saw him soaking wet and with an apologetic face, she quickly put her umbrella over both of them.

-I’m sorry- she looks at him confused not understanding why he was saying this- I'm sorry, I know I'm sometimes don't know when I fucked up, that I work until late night when you need me but I swear that I love you and nothing is more important to me than you're

-Hee I'm not angry with you- Heeseung always apologized for things that he even sometimes didn't knew made her upset, always wanting for her to feel loved and appreciated- let's go inside you're gonna catch cold, you left clothes here from last time

He just smiles following her letting her prepare a warm bath for both, undressing himself before help her do the same and getting both inside, his gentle hands started to caress her body, he was smiling giving kisses on her neck and shoulders so happy that she wasn't angry with him, but that relief lasted only a few minutes when she started to cry, he was petrified.

-did I hurt you? Sweetie, what's wrong?- her sobbing broke his heart and he thought only in the worst, what if someone harassed her, hurt her, what if it was him? He could never forget himself- I think I'm pregnant- Heeseung’s hands stopped completely shocked by the news, but then extreme happiness rushed all over his body.

-i'm gonna be a dad, we should definitely move together now for our baby- Heeseung back hugged her spilling some water kissing her neck with more passion- maybe we need a bigger space so he or her can grow happily and have their own room- he was blinded by the happiness that he almost didn't noticed how she cried more- what's wrong? You don't want the baby?- he felt a pinch of pain on his heart thinking about that possible escenario where she have an abortion, he could never push her to do something against her desires and even if he really wants this baby he won't pressure her to feel the same as him.

-you're not angry?

-why would I be? You want me to be angry?

-i I don't know… your career your dreams… I ruined things I should have take better care to avoid this- she cried harder scared of the future

-no, don't ever say that- he manhandled her to make her straddle him cupping her face and looking straight into her eyes- listen this and listen well… nothing in this world is more important to me than you, you're my dream, I can change career, job, house, the car, I can replace anything in this world but you, there's not a single person in the entire universe that can replace you, I don't love anyone else you're my true love I want you for the rest of my days- she was pouting looking at him Hee kissed her softly- and to be fair probably it's my fault that you're pregnant because I can't never have enough of you- he squeeze her butt shamelessly, pulling her closer to his body, feeling her naked breast on his chest making her squeak surprised

-stop now… this is serious I need you to think with your head not with your little friend

-we both know is anything but little- he wriggle his eyebrows

-you're impossible- she finally let out a sincere laugh, but soon enough her brows knit with worry- are you sure you want this baby?

- I want what you want princess, if you wanna keep the baby I'll be more than happy to be a dad, but if you don't I'll take you to a clinic- Heeseung kiss her forehead taking the body wash to help her clean her skin- since the first day we started to date I told you I was your slave that didn't change

- I don't know what I want yet

- we can figure it out together- Heeseung finished bathing both of them taking her out.

In the bedroom he started to dry her, playfully he started to touch an kiss her naked body until they ended up making love, he was so enchanted by her, reassuring her that everything will be alright, and she did believe that, how can it be wrong when everything feels safe inside his arms? The morning after that Heeseung woke up early to make breakfast for her putting extra effort to the best his cooking skills allowed him to, by the time she woke up the apartment smells like pancakes she could hear him cursing putting only a long t-shirt to cover herself, in the kitchen he was struggling flipping things in the pan making her laugh, seeing her genuine smile made him happy himself.

-good morning baby mama- he kissed her passionately

-good morning baby daddy- Heeseung blush hearing her- I just suspect that I'm pregnant the test is still on my purse ready to be done just that I'm afraid

-you want to do it together- she just nods and Heeseung takes her hand following her to the bathroom, waiting for her outside until he heard the gasp, he opened the door and found the pregnancy test with the two lines confirming his new dream come true- oh fuck we need to buy a crib a house, diapers, I'm gonna schedule an appointment for the doctor- Heeseung takes her face on his hands kissing her so passionately

- are we sure? I mean… you really want a baby?

-did you notice that I almost go out to yell everyone on the street that I'm gonna be a dad? - he said playfully and she let the worries go for now, he dropped to his knees pulling her close to him giving kisses on her belly- hi honey, it's your daddy, I found today that you're here and I can't wait to meet you, I love you, I love you so much you can't even imagine, please grow healthy mommy and I will wait for you

That melted her heart, hearing his usually carefree boyfriend to be so soft for a human being they both created, she felt safe and for the first time in the last couple days she didn't feel afraid of the future, Heeseung was there and will be for the rest of her life, she didn't have to worry.

The following months were a rollercoaster of emotions, Heeseung change completely his dream of being a singer, he left his group and was now dedicated to be a producer and songwriter for the same company, he move out of the dorms to buy a small house were they moved together, the appointments to the doctor, how she left her job as a barista when her bump was so prominent she couldn't do anything and had no other option but to take a break until the baby was born, the remodeling of the house the build up of the baby's room the small wedding they had, along with Heeseung's needy persona she didn't have a break, everything was pure happiness with small episodes of sadness, worries, emotional meltdowns, morning sickness, sore feet and back pain, but overall a constant feeling of safety, she felt it on her chest that warm every time Heeseung did something for the baby and her; then the actual labor, Heeseung cried for half an hour holding their new born, a beautiful baby boy, it was the most perfect human being Hee has ever seen.

-we made him- his tears didn't seem to stop while he carried the fragile body on his chest- can you believe that we did the most perfect little being

-don't cry Hee, he's gonna think you don't want him- she said extending her arm to wipe his tears, tearing herself seeing the scene in front of her

-never in life… daddy is so happy to finally be able to hold you my little Junghee

Things were smooth for as long as Heeseung had the paternity leave, when he have to be back at work she started to crumble down, little by little she started to feel bad about this whole thing, she didn't feel capable of taking care of herself much less another human, slowly her capacity to take care of them deteriorated, Heeseung was working extra hours because of a comeback of his ex members he was on recordings until late night sometimes coming home to find her crying while carrying their sleeping baby, he noticed how the dark circles under her eyes where prominent and noticeable, how her voice was strained of the constant crying, he knew it wasn't alright, trying to find another way to actually manage his work and family life. It was when Junghee turned 3 months old that he arrived around five in the afternoon only to find his wife curled up in a ball in bed

-sweetheart I'm home now, where's the baby- he looks around the room only seeing her, his thoughts always searching for the worst escenario

-I don't know, I can't anymore- he felt his body run cold, desperate to find his baby, but in that moment Junghee cried on his crib he ran to the baby's room quickly took him on his arms, bouncing him to pacify him, he quickly noticed the state of his son, he sighed preparing the bath for his baby cleaning him and removing his dirty diaper, he peaks at the room seeing his wife crying.

He started simple, bathing his son, changing his clothes and giving him a bottle until Junghee fell asleep he put his baby back in bed to go attend his wife, he prepared the tub for her too, making sure it's the way she likes it, back in the room he gently took her on his arms undressing her.

-let’s go sweetheart you're gonna take a bath and we'll go to the doctor

Y/n was unresponsive, letting him do anything to her crying some more feeling the lovin hands of Heeseung helping her to wash her hair, it's been days since the last time she did it, when he took her out Heeseung made sure to wrap her in the softest towel, combing her hair and dressing her up like a doll, he even put on her skincare and she couldn't help but to feel disgusted with herself, since Junghee was born she haven't take care of herself. Heeseung got her ready the diaper bag for them to go out, taking his son on his arms and his wife's hand to go to the car, he secured their baby on his chair in the back seat and also secured y/n on the passenger seat, he drives singing softly for both of them smiling at them until he parked outside the doctor, he made an emergency appointment knowing it wasn't normal the way she feels, he knows that motherhood is hard but not the point she's reaching now.

Doctor Min was a really kind and patience human, that's why he liked him and trusted him to take care of both his treasures, the doctor first examineded Junghee prescribing an ointment for the diaper rash he develop due the lack of constant changing, then y/n when she started to explain what she felt Heeseung feels his world crumbling down too, how he couldn't notice? Was that horrible as a husband and dad that he failed to notice?

-I truly love Junghee I'll never do something to hurt him on purpose…just that I can't…I don't know… I'm not ready… I'm a bad mom don't wanna be one- and she broke down there crying her soul in the doctor's office- I feel like he hates me because he knows I'm the worst can't even take care of myself much less him

The doctor listened and gave her a tissue to wipe her nose, Heeseung was bouncing Junghee to not wake him holding her hand to reassure her, he gave the prescription in bold letters on top it reads “postpartum depression” he indicated for her to take a break from taking care of the baby and pills to regulate her hormones and help her get through this, Hee stopped at the pharmacy on the way to their home buying what she needs, also stopping at her favorite place to have dinner, when Junghee woke up in the restaurant and started to complain her eyes immediately teared, Heeseung was fast and took a baby bottle from the bag feeding him.

-is okay princess see?, he just was hungry… you must be too choose whatever you like- he leans to kiss her temple

She let him love her and take care of both, even if she felt that pinch of guilty leaving all the responsibility on him, she ordered and took a few bites of her food, Heeseung started to hand feed her while eating himself and holding Junghee, smiling brightly and making silly conversation about something that happened on his work, even making her laugh a little.

-I think it would be beneficial for you to go on a break… your cousin Youngseo lives in Jeju and you haven't saw her in years, maybe you can go for a few days to clear your mind and your heart- he proposed still smiling

-but what about you? you don't wanna come?

-I have to work darling, also some alone time will help for your mental health

-Youngseo doesn't know how to take care of babies how am I going to make it alone if you stay here?- she started to panic but he hold her hand

-Junghee will stay with me, I'll take care of him

-but your work you have… you can't… I have to take care of my baby- he cups her cheek making her look at him

-princess you need to rest, what's happening to you is not something easy… I'll sort myself and work, besides I'm sure the members will be so happy to help me while I'm at the company… I haven't been fair with you I promised you that will be together to solve everything but I haven't been around that much… I can take care of my little boy while you take care of that beautiful brain of yours- he pulled her to kiss her lips softly

-what did I do to have you? To even deserve you?

-I don't know maybe being the most beautiful girl ever to lay your eyes on me even when I was a pathetic looser

-you were never pathetic

-but yes a loser… and now I look hot as a dad, don't you think little Hee?- he baby talked to their son- little Hee said yes very much- she looks at both with love on her eyes, she truly loves them just couldn't understand why she couldn't take care of her baby or herself

-i love you… just a couple days okay? And I promise I'll be fine- she leaned to kiss him

-take all the time you need, just come back to me

The next day in the afternoon he dropped her at the airport, saying their goodbyes, she was holding her baby hugging his tiny body and kissing the top of his head.

-I'm sorry I promise I love you… I'll be back to be the mommy you deserve- she gives her little son to Heeseung- please take care of him

-you offend me, you sound like I can't take care of my son- she looks at him judging her husband

-you didn't shower for three days because of a videogame I have reasons to doubt

-it was one time and before I even knew you were pregnant I changed, I'm a new man and this one is responsible of himself, his hot wife and his cute son- she giggles pulling him for a kiss

-please forgive me… I'll do things right when I come back… I love you

-you don't have to be sorry and I have nothing to forgive, I love you you're the only one that I care about… oh sorry no, the second one I care about- he looks at Junghee who is giving one of those baby smiles and babbling- he says that he loves you that he'll wait for you to be ready… now go or you gonna loose your flight

He kissed her one last time seeing her go, he hates the idea of letting her go, or be apart for longer than a work day, but he knows is the best for y/n and for Junghee, he stayed in the airport until he was sure the plane took off.

-just you and me now, I hope you trust daddy to take care of you- he got in the car securing his baby on his chair- listen you may think or be confused about why mommy left, well she wasn't at her best, but is not because she doesn't love you… in fact she loves you a lot sometimes I'm jealous because I meet her before you and I think she loves you more than me- Junghee giggle and Heeseung acted surprised- what? My own child laughing at me

He kept talking to Junghee when they arrived home, his baby was already sleeping, he took him to his crib, putting the baby monitor to start cleaning the house. How couldn't he notice the state of everything in their home? The big loads of undone laundry piling on the washing machine room, the almost empty pantry, the dirty dishes, he did everything he could accomplish before Junghee wakes up he almost finished with the laundry and vacuuming the house when the baby complained he quickly got there to hold him making him stop crying.

-oh so you like daddy's arms, well I still need to clean so you'll come with me

Heeseung searched for a video tutorial on how to use a baby carrier, to make sure Junghee will be safe while he does the housework, while his baby was in bed he was crying.

-i'm sorry, I'm doing my best okay? Just give me a second, are you hungry?- he checked twice that everything was secure before even putting Junghee on the carrier or take a step, once his baby was flushed to his chest the crying stopped- so you really like daddy's arms, do I have a little spoiled baby?- Junghee giggle and Heeseung couldn't help but to smile feeling warm all over his chest- so this is what love feels like? I felt it with your mom the first time I saw her, the same I feel with you right now- he looks at his son with deep love enchanted by him and how tiny and fragile he is, he does have the same Bambie eyes as him- so that's why your mommy tells me no to do those eyes I feel like I can do anything you ask me for

Heeseung spend solid 30 minutes just looking at his baby, caressing his soft hair and kissing his head, even hugging him and rocking him to soothe his complaining, it was until he realized about the time that he started to do the chores again hearing the babbling and baby talk even answering like if they're having a proper conversation, he was completely exhausted sitting on the couch with his baby drinking his bottle.

-my beautiful boy… are you enjoying being only with daddy? I'm enjoying very much being with you, don't let mommy hear me but I think you're the love of my life- he traced his little features with one finger, enjoying how soft his skin was looking at his Bambie eyes attentive of every move Heeseung makes

Heeseung was like an expert taking care of his little son, even if he relayed on his phone and YouTube tutorials to do things for Junghee, like washing his clothes on a separate laundry load how to apply lotion and make a baby massage to relax him and put him to sleep, he took the bassinet installing it on his room next to his bed.

-You'll be daddy's roommate until mommy comes back, to keep each other company even tho you have your own room… but I'm not used to be this lonely- he changed his onesie and rocked him to sleep before laying him down, only watching him with love eyes, Heeseung couldn't believe how eye-catching his son was.

He got himself comfortable sending y/n a message, wishing her good night and telling her how much he loves and misses her. The next morning he got up really early checking on his sleeping baby, grateful that he only woke up once hungry and for a diaper change, he showered with the baby monitor on the bathroom afraid that he might wake up and cry for being alone, as he learned yesterday he likes to be held, he got dress and even made quick breakfast and prepared a bag for the day, counting diapers and bottles when Junghee cried, but this time different more heartfelt, Hee quickly picked him up looking with worry at his son rocking him and patting his bottom, hearing his little sobs slowly changing to his regular breathing.

-what happen? Did you get scared? I'm sorry daddy didn't want to make you afraid, I was making my breakfast and yours too- his baby was cradle in his arms and he was swinging him softly he leaned to give him kisses on his hair.

Hee went to the baby's room to choose his clothes, Heeseung was so happy taking a shirt similar to one he owns looking for a matching outfit, he started to fill the baby tub to bath him, doing it with so much care making sure to hold Junghee tight enough, he never put that much of an effort to be soft with someone, he wrapped him on a towel only taping his body to dry his skin, Hee put him on the changer talking to him so he doesn't cry, once he was done he place him on the carrier to go take breakfast he gave a bottle for Junghee helping him burp after before even thinking in eat himself, he checked the time hurrying up to get on time for work.

-I didn't think that much what I'm gonna do with you, but I just know you're really well behaved you just like to be held all the time which is inconvenienti if I need to do something, but you also stay pretty well in your chair or whatever if I talk to you… guess you don't like to feel alone but I know you love daddy so much and that's why you're gonna be a good boy and behave at my office

He kissed his forehead starting to put things on his car, toys, the baby gym, the stroller everything just in case he needs something to entertain Junghee, he secured him on the car seat driving to his office, in the parking lot he found his ex members who came to say hi but we're astonished seeing his baby there too, the last time they saw Junghee was in hospital after he was born, surprised by how much he grow and overall how much he looks like Heeseung in a mini version.

-it’s definitely yours… don't miss understand I'll never put in doubt y/n but he's your copy… just much cuter- Jay said- can I hold him?- Heeseung nods giving authorization, he'll need a lot of help to take everything out from the car if he doesn't want to come up and down all those floors to the parking and to his studio.

Everyone took something to help, Jay was holding the baby careful with his head all of them went up and everything was smooth they helped put together the baby gym while Heeseung went to the cafeteria to ask for hot water to have in case his baby is hungry, when he came back he found everyone panicking giving toys to his crying son, he immediately frown.

-what did you do to my baby?

-nothing he just started cry- Sunoo said with embarrassment, Heeseung got close seeing his little son extend his tiny arms to him, he understood what happened, holding him to his chest and giving him a kiss on his hair

-you don't like your uncle's either only daddy… what am I gonna do with you?- Junghee stopped crying immediately like all those times when Hee holds him

-so he's a daddy's boy- Sunghoon looks at them with fondness

-also a mommy's boy, he just loves us way to much I like to think

-where’s y/n by the way?- Jungwon asked

-she's in Jeju, with her cousin it was a family matter and I'll be taking care of Junghee alone until she's back

The day was easy even with Junghee on the studio, his ex members went for periods of time to watch and play with the baby, even the staff, everyone was enamoured by how easy it was to be with him, how well behaved he was even when he was this tiny, by the time of his naps Heeseung improvised a bed on his sofa, putting the cushions so he can't roll and fall, he watches him sleep for sometime feeling inspired to write a song about this love he feels everytime he looks at his son, he worked on it for most of the afternoon until it was almost time to leave, Y/n called him, he answered happy to see her through the screen, she looked better, relaxed and at peace.

-hi gorgeous, how is everything going?

-hi… good I think I went to an spa today and for a walk at the beach… but- she stopped herself having this unsure feeling of share what's on her mind

-but… is okay you know you can tell me everything

-it's just I felt guilty that I'm enjoying here alone but I don't feel like this with my baby- her eyes fill out with tears

-no, don't do that to yourself… I know is not easy, but this is what you need, to relax to be alright for you and Junghee… also it's my fault too I left all the responsibility only to you- she shakes her head denying him

-you work so hard for us, I should be able to take care of him

-you work hard too… all the house work, Junghee, you… dealing with me is a lot sweetheart

-but…

-no more but… is okay to need time and space, we'll wait for you at home, besides we're also having a good time, he's a super star here at hybe, everyone come to see him do nothing just like now- he focused their little baby sleeping peacefully- I understand why they do I also just stare at him… I still can't believe we made the most perfect human

-you're not angry with me?

-no, why would I be?

-for everything I did

-what being hot? No darling that's not something to be angry for… giving me the most perfect little being? That's actually the best thing someone ever did for me… try so hard to do everything even when you weren't feeling well? That's something to admire… I'm so lucky to have you I could never be angry with you- she finally cried on the phone, but she was smiling

-i love you so much

-i love you too, keep having fun I'll see you in a couple days

The week pass, everyday with the same routine, Heeseung got so used to take care of Junghee that he couldn't imagine going to his studio without him, everyone else also was so used to see him carrying his baby that now people asked how's Junghee not him, he smiles knowing that his son stole everyone's heart with his calm demeanor and how he asked always for his dad, almost like if he wants to only be glued to Heeseung, his ex members constantly went to the studio to see his baby even taking gifts with them, from toys to baby clothes, he was spoiled there; even in the meetings Heeseung had to attend Junghee was there with his pacifier looking with Bambie eyes at everyone in the room, they made sure to not talk so harsh or yell to not upset him, everything seems to revolve around this tiny human and Heeseung feels so proud that it's his son the one everybody loves.

-what type of sorcery did your mom and I used to make you? Everyone is in love with you- he baby talked after the CEO went to check on his son, not him and the song he was producing- even my boss comes to see you and admire how cute you're

Heeseung took a break from his work to lay on the floor next to Junghee who is on his baby gym, he likes to play with him watching the new movements and sounds he makes, smiling when he babbles almost like replaying to the previous conversation. He took him on his arms and lay down with Junghee on top patting softly his back putting him to sleep, Hee did the same dozing off holding his baby and feeling complete like nothing in this world is important only this little moment, minutes later Jake arrived to see the baby but seeing the scene unfold he just snapped a pic and sent it to Heeseung with the caption I'll come back later, sweet dreams mini Hee.

When he woke up his baby was still sleeping he looks down at him kissing his head sitting carefully to not wake him, he saw the photo Jake sent putting it as his lock screen, he sent it also to y/n telling her how much he loves her, he got to work again holding Junghee in one arm cradling his body and using the other one to finish the sending of some files, he works in silence until the little complain made him look down, Junghee was slowly opening his eyes and when he focused properly first thing he saw was Heeseung smiling immediately melting complete his dad's heart.

-did you like it more to sleep with daddy?- the baby babbling came immediately- you did? You're so spoiled by daddy and you know that- the little giggle makes Heeseung smile wider- you enjoy having daddy wrap around your little finger don't you?- and like if he knew his tiny hand closed around Heeseung's finger making both giggle- yes you know and you enjoy every bit of it… guess what? mommy comes back tomorrow- the little scream of excitement melted him more- yes, she missed you so much

He video called his wife to let her see Junghee, since she haven't saw him everytime she calls he's already sleeping or playing with someone else, when she answered the strong wind of the beach and her telling them to wait makes Heeseung laugh, she went inside the cafe looking at his baby.

-hi my love- Junghee looks at the phone seeing his mom, trying to grab de screen babbling happily- you miss me? I miss you too- he babbles smiling and moving his feet excited- I wanna hold you and kiss you too… he looks so happy Hee, like he really loves me- she started to tear up

-he does loves you just like daddy does

-i miss you so much, both of you… being away only helped me to reaffirm how much you meant to me, how much I love having a family with you… that it was the right thing to keep the baby he makes me happy I was just afraid of hurting him or not being enough

-sweetheart if something I learned taking care of him is that he doesn't care he just likes to be with us, he already thinks you're the best- the happy babbling made her cry happy tears- see? He just said I love you mommy, you're the best- he focused his tiny face and just by seeing her he smiles and giggles melting her heart too

-i love you too my love, you're the most important being in my life, your dad is second

-i heard that but I'm not offended

-i talked with a psychologist here I think I wanna go to one regularly

-I’ll help you find one

-you don't think I'm overreacting right?

-you offend me again, I'll never think something like that

-you're the best that why I married you

-I though it was because of my looks and how good I'm in bed

-don't say stuff like that in front of Junghee- she blushed

-I was thinking that I wanna make another one, or just have the practice of making one- he wriggle his eyebrows

-you're like a horny teenager

-can you blame me, I haven't seen or feel my wife in days

-you still find me attractive? I saw my cousins in a bikini and she's just wow… I have tummy now and stretch marks

-yeah because you carried my baby there, you look so hot because your boobs did grew and now they're bigger… I'm imagining it and God I'm gonna have a problem in my pants- she blushed so intensely hearing how much he still desires her body, the one she sees with a lot of imperfections

-thank you

-for what? For loving my wife?- he huffs- no thank you for being this hot- she giggles like a teenager hearing her first love confess

- I love you

-I love you too sweetie… I was thinking that maybe you can go back to work at the café, maybe take a part time in the morning, I can bring Junghee here and take care while you work then you can come pick him up and I'll see you at home

-really? Can I?

-of course, you loved your job… this way we both take care of him, we both work, we have more money and weekends to go out like a family

-i'll consider it thank you… for being the best husband someone can ask for and for choosing me to be your wife and help me get through everything

-nothing to say thanks for I do it because I love you and my mini Hee

The next day he was waiting at the airport for her, with the Junghee on the carrier and he holding a sign “Heeseung's wife Junghee’s mommy” when she came down and spots them she ran to hug both of them, Heeseung holds her by the waist pulling her on his side to kiss her passionately, he didn't care who can see them or what they can think, he was so into the kiss that he only pulled apart when the babbling became little yells of excitement.

-Envious you don't want to share mommy with daddy- he laughed taking him out of the carrier so y/n can hold him

-my love how much I missed you- she kiss his head hearing his little giggle- I did missed you a lot- she hugs her tiny body crying

-don't cry he's gonna think you don't want him- he repeat the words she said when he crying when Junghee was born, wiping her tears

-never if he's the most precious thing that I have… then it's you- she smiles seeing him leaning to kiss her temple and Junghee's head

-let's go home you have to tell how your vacation went and I have to really bury my face on those titties- she gives him a smack on his shoulder, laughing

Heeseung wrapped his arm on her shoulders guiding her to their car happy to see her being herself again, to hear their baby happily reply to them and be so attached to them only, this was truly his dream come true.

Fin.

So there's baby fever in my family now, and I just couldn't help but to imagine Heeseung like this.

Also I activated my anon messages if you by any chance want to talk, thank you again little stranger for reading me.