#finding comfort in the sun because it reminds him so much of the boy with the bright smile

[writingwisterias]

I was daydreaming today at college and thought about Leon absolutely ravaging me in my wedding dress... Would you be able to write the reader teasing him at the wedding all evening long, feeling him up, making him jealous until the end of the night when he finally gets you alone and just goes totally feral?! Your work is amazing, please never stop 🥰😌😵‍💫💦

YES, I CAN ANON!

I love this!!! I hope I did the idea justice! I did Death Island Leon because I rewatched it and he's on my mind. I rambled sorry this took so long, I needed it to be done right!

Warnings: Smut, MNDI, Fluff, Teasing, Praise Kink, Cowgirl, Oral (F receiving) Jealousy, Hidden touches, Comfort

Death Island! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Words: 3.8k

Leon never thought he would get this chance, marriage was always just a distant dream, one that always seemed impossible with his job and lifestyle. Until you came along and made him feel easy to love for once. Your smile manages to brighten any mood he might be in. His home was dark and bare now filled with warmth and love, decorated with things that reminded him of how far you had both become. He made it his life's mission to ensure you never stopped smiling and never faced anything like he had. Your protection was his top priority as he kept you separate from his work life, a little hidden secret in this world. One for just him to enjoy.

The isle was decorated in soft greens and browns, the sun felt warm for once as it fell over his features. It felt like God was finally giving him a break from the whirlpool of life he was handed. He couldn't stop the swaying of his feet or fiddling with the tie that felt too tight around his neck. Neither of you wanted a big wedding, limiting your guest list to just close friends and family but the room still felt full. Despite the small number of people you had invited, their adoring stares at him and their whispers about what you might look like today didn't help. Leon didn’t care what dress you picked out, he gave you the budget to get the biggest one if you wanted it. All that mattered to him was that you were happy and at the end of the day were with him in an enteral promise. One he knew went deeper than simple love. 

Ignoring the waves of anxiety he felt, all the attention began to feel too much without you by his side to make it more bearable. Leon made sure to put on the biggest smile that he could muster up as he watched the wedding party begin to filter through the aisle. Soft instrumental music complimented them as they all walked down. The once red carpet is now being decorated with a range of petals as your niece went down alongside her brother who carried the rings. Everyone’s attention was drawn to them, their adorable stumbles thankfully gave him a chance to let out a shaky breath before he had to reach for the velvet box from the young boy. It felt heavy, similar to the feeling when he had the last velvet box in his pocket; a decision he would never come to regret in his life. He had thought about this moment for months, his dreams being filled by adding to the collection of rings he had given to you, all in a romantic promise that was tying your souls together forever.

Leon had memorized the order in which everyone was going to be coming through, all of them finding their place on the respected sides. Their smiles warmed his heart at how happy they were for the both of you. The love crashed over him in waves as your family welcomed him in with open arms. The change in song made his heart rate begin to pick up as you walked down. You looked like an angel, one that was finally ready to take him to salvation - a gift sent from the heavens for all of his hard work and trauma. You smiled at Leon, watching as his eyes twinkled with tears of happiness. He deserved this; there was no one more than deserving of your love. Your answer to his proposal was the easiest choice you had ever made. Just as you were for Leon he was the same for you. 

You could feel his hands shake as he lifted your veil, the sound of everyone around you melting away as he gazed upon your features like he was memorising them despite knowing that he does it every time he wakes up before you in the morning. You watched as his smile grew softer, his body trying to reign in his emotions as the tears fell slightly down his face. You felt the ghost of his breath against your palm as you wiped it away for him. Your touch is just a ghost of the love he knew you had for him. His love was always intoxicating to you. Helping your brain become fuzzy so you forget about the world around you. The nerves you had at the start of the day are now settled in a calm and peaceful feeling. That's what you loved about him, his endless ability to ease your anxiety. He was your bridge, your stable wall to lean on if you needed it. Leon had given you everything you needed and more in life; you will always be thankful for that. 

Your hands slotted in his perfectly; Leon was grasping them tightly in case you would fade away right in front of him like you were some dream he would wake up from. The vows you shared today would never be broken; the endless devotion you both shared was witnessed by everyone else in the room. “I love you” You whispered to him leaning on his shoulder as you both waited for the end of the ceremony. Leon glanced down at you, his eyes sparkling with more unshed tears, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I love you more” 

It felt like the world stopped as you turned to face each other before you finally kissed marking your new journey as Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Neither of you needed this, the large fancy wedding or the certificate you were now both signing with shaky hands and large smiles. You both know the love you shared was solidified with the care you put towards each other in each other darkest moments. There was no end to this life without Leon being by your side.

You grasped his hand tightly as you both ran down the aisle, your laughter filling the air mixing in with the confetti that fell around you. Leon pulled you back into him, greedy for another kiss before the true celebrations began, the fabric of your dress swirling around his feet as you collided with him. 

The rest of the evening felt like a blur, the both of you being dragged around by family and friends for endless photos. The camera flash soon became a permanent fixture every time you blinked. Yet, as everyone settled down for the evening meal, plates of food were being wafted around the room and the waitresses handed them out; Leon didn’t miss the longing looks you gave him. The squeezes of his thigh underneath the table as your hand inched higher and higher. Your delicate fingers brushed along the front of his trousers all whilst glancing at him with an adoring and innocent smile. It was driving him insane with how casual you were being about it. “You alright there honey? You look a little flustered” you giggled in his ear, leaning towards him. His smirk grew on his face, his eyes hidden by his dark hair as he turned to look at you. “Someone seems to be starting something I’m not sure they can finish” He teased. Normally Leon would have touched your skin and teased the fabric of your underwear groaning at the feel of the arousal he knew was drenching the thin fabric but your damn dress was too big. He was beaten by layers of white fabric. 

“We’ve still got many hours before I can show you what's underneath this dress” you whispered again. His face flushed - turning a dark pink as his brain tried to decipher what you meant. To his credit he recovered quickly, hiding his flushed cheeks from the guests with a kiss. Coos and chuckles surrounded you as you both shared this moment. When he pulled away his eyes narrowed, a warning. That if you continued then you would be in for a long night, but then when did you ever listen to him?

The night continued with tear-jerking speeches from close family and friends and you now both stood outside the doors waiting for the events organizer to announce you both as Mr and Mrs Kennedy for your first dance. His hand held yours firmly, almost like if he loosened his grip he would wake up from this dream. 

“Ready?” You asked him, looking up at his stubble-coated face in adoration. He never got used to your twinkling eyes when you looked at him, perhaps he never would. He didn't need the three words that meant so much to many people - your eyes told your story, your feelings. “To embarrass me with how badly I dance…no” he teased a toothy grin filling his features. Your laugh was better music than the song lined up for the rest of the evening. His own eyes crinkled once again as his smile grew. You heard your name announced and both jogged out onto the dance floor.. confetti and cheers surround you once again. 

Leon's hands gripped your hips tightly as they swirled you around, opting to stick to simple swaying and a few spins. You didn't care, you were smiling anyway. That was another thing you did that caused him to fall in love with you - how easily you accepted the simplest things he gave you. The size of his gestures is never an issue with you. When the song slowed down he bought you closer, his hands lowering to the swell of your ass. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the soft strands of his hair. His aftershave was intoxicating, filling your senses as you tucked yourself closer, his head resting on yours. The moment was peaceful, perfect. One he would remember every time a mission got too much, or he needed a reason to get back up after he's been slammed down numerous amounts of times. 

The moment was broken when one of the bridesmaids tapped him on the shoulder holding out a polaroid to him. He glanced briefly at you not failing to notice the large grin on your face. It was comical how wide his eyes went when he looked at the small picture; a choked breath following as his cheeks flushed. “What the fuck” he chuckled as he turned back to you, tucking away the Polaroid in his pocket before anyone else got to see. “There's plenty more where that came from” you spoke. Leon pulled you close again, trapping you against his body with a large grin on his features as his lips ghosted your skin. “You little minx” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of yours. You smiled at the contact, at the small graze of his lips against your neck. Your fingers tugged gently at the hairs on the nape of his neck, swirling the soft strands in small circles. He felt you slip away leaving his arms to merge in with the rest of the dancefloor. Your white dress twirled around you as you greeted your friends. He watched with a smile, seeing your happiness leak into the people around you…into himself. 

Your feet moved gracefully along the dancefloor as you sauntered back to him often during the rest of the night. Interrupting and saving him from boring conversations with older relatives, your lips kissing in the pattern he knew would be repeated later when you were both alone. The collection of polaroids started to thicken his pockets as your bridesmaids continued to hand them to him, his face flushing each time - eyes narrowing as he found you giggling across the room from him. He was thankful as people started to wish you luck and goodnight, all heading off to their rooms. Instantly beginning to look for you to drag you to the bridal room. Leon found you helping the servers gather the remaining drinks handing them glasses over to the bar. Your hair was wild, strands sticking out of the braid it was neatly made into earlier in the day. Your makeup was smudged and the lipstick is virtually nonexistent but to him, you still looked just as beautiful at the start of the day. 

He felt giddy as you both stumbled your way back to the room, practically running through the halls. Your smile grew as you heard his laugh, the sound bouncing down the corridor. His hand held onto yours firmly not once letting go. It felt like you were teenagers again, running through the school corridors to escape school. You wished you had met him sooner in life, so you could have loved him sooner. Helped through the horrors he had told you, showed him a world of love and affection sooner before he fell into the habits he wasn't proud of.  His lips attacked yours as soon as you got through the door, the key card discarded on the desk landing on it with a clatter. Your hands slid under the shoulders of his blazer. Leon smiled into the kiss, his shoulders shaking it off in a poor attempt to help, the fabric landing with a thud on the floor. 

The contents of it scattered along the floor, his phone now hidden somewhere you'll both be scrambling to find in the morning. He smirked at the Polaroids that had now scattered everywhere, the photos of you that he kept hidden now a reminder of your promise. He felt his cock throbbing against the fabric of his trousers, he almost cummed at the idea of sinking into you finally after today. He pulled you towards the bed, pushing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed. Leon wished he hadn’t just lost his phone so he could have taken a photo of you sprawled out on the bed beneath him surrounded by the rose petals the hotel staff had thrown on the bed. Your eyes were intense as they looked at him with pure lust, you always did love him in his suits. 

“You have a promise to keep?” He teased, bending down briefly to collect a polaroid off the floor - holding it out to you so you could see throwing it on the bed next to you. His hands began to push the layers of fabric up your legs, exposing your hips. He smiled at the garter that was still around your thigh. Leon’s head instantly lowered, his teeth tugging it down your leg, ignoring the chuckle that left your lips as he struggled to get it over your shoe. When he raised his head again you smiled at his smug look, the elastic band hanging from his teeth like a trophy. 

“You were meant to do that earlier and then see which one of your friends was getting married next” You smiled as you pulled it from his teeth, discarding the fabric somewhere else in the room. “Guess I’ll just have to marry you again” He spoke, kissing up your thighs disappearing amongst the fabric. “Already? We just made our vows” 

Leon’s head shot up again his hair falling over his eyes as he looked at you. “I’ll chant them to you every night if I have to. I’ll never forget them, nor will I let you forget them.” 

You knew if you wanted him to he would always be willing to do what it takes to prove he is forever grateful for your unwavering love and patience over the past few years. The same soft hands that now tugged his head towards your dripping cunt pulling him out of one of the worst states he’s ever been in. He didn’t like thinking about what would have happened if you hadn’t given him the final shove to pour the drink away. To stop for the first time since his 20s. His fingers looped in the waistband of the white lacy thong pulling it down your legs. You spread them, showing off your soaked core that he had skipped the cake for. Opting to save his appetite for a sweeter dessert instead. 

“I meant every single word” 

His mouth instantly latched on, sucking up the sweet arousal you were already dripping for him. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head, the fabric hiding him from sight as he worked his magic. Leon would spend hours like this if he wanted to, his head buried in a sacred space you kept so perfect for him. Forever - until death - now the only person that would be able to taste the sweet drink you created for him. Your legs shook as his tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, his nose occasionally brushing against it as he enthusiastically licked long stripes up your folds. 

You felt the incoming orgasm, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head only spurring Leon on to continue his assault of pleasure faster. He groaned when you finally spilt on his tongue, he lapped it up like he was dehydrated. You supposed he was, with the incoming date of your wedding you both barely had enough time for this. You moaned at the sight of his chin covered in his drool and your cum, his tongue swiping across his lips making sure he lapped it all up. He always was a messy eater. 

You could taste yourself on his as he crawled up to place a kiss on your lips. “How expensive was the dress?” he asked whilst nipping at your neck. His stubble was prickly against your skin. “Very. You gave me no budget remember” You chuckled, pulling at his hair causing him to look at you. “So if I fucked you in it, it would be a waste of money?” 

“We can always get it dry cleaned” 

He chuckled pulling away from you again. He was too slow at unbuttoning his shirt, you sat up, crawling towards the edge of the bed on shaking legs to help him. The fabric was discarded somewhere in the room with a thud. His hands worked on his trousers, his belt clinking loudly as they fell to the floor. You bit your lip at the sight of his pre cum on his boxers, both old and new stains. “Look at what you did to me all day, in this dress, the touches at dinner, the fucking photos. The day dragged on for far too long” He mumbled lowly. You loved it when he did this when his octave lowered with need and frustration for wanting you. Your teasing finally pushed him over the edge and now he had a taste there was no point in preventing him from the full meal. He was going to get it anyway. 

You stood up from the bed, spinning the both of you so he fell against the soft sheets. He waited for you to undo the dress, to let the fabric hide his trousers. Instead to crawled above him, pushing him towards the headboard. Leon pulled his boxers off, his cock thumping against his stomach at your approach. You smirked at the tip, angry and red as it waited for you. Dribbles of pre cum decorating it like candle wax, he was always so pretty.

 A large sigh from the both of you filled the room as you finally sank on him. The sight is hidden by the layers of the dress now pooling around you both. He could admire the way the bodice fit against your form, the delicate lace hems making you look even more magical. You were perfect, always were and always will be. 

Your hips moved too slow for his liking, the pleasure he needed not building up fast enough. Tired of your teasing his hips met your own. The lazy thrusts hit deeper and deeper as they collided with your own, brushing against the entrance of your cervix. He was always larger than you remembered, no amount of foreplay ever prepared you for the glorious stretch he gave you each time you fucked. His small whisps of hair tease your already sensitive clit. 

He could feel you quiver above him, your head thrown back with a large smile plastered on your face. He watched the rise and fall of your chest as it pushed out the breathless whimpers. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the freshly painted nails leaving small crescent shapes along his already uneven skin. He wouldn’t mind a few more scars, not if they were left by you tonight. A forever memory etched onto his skin as well as in his mind. 

Had all his prayers finally been answered? All of his years of suffering finally bought to a close with the clench of your walls around his cock and a promise to love him until he gave his final breath. “I fucking love you, Mrs Kennedy” 

Hearing it made it more real somehow, made the whole day finish with another orgasm from you as you collapsed against him. Your sweaty skin cooling his down. He was so close, to his own ending. To coat and fill you with himself, the way it will always be now. Leon was now the only one who got this pleasure, that was allowed to do this. 

He was quick to move you, slipping out only briefly to place you on all fours. His cock slipped back into you; “I…will…always…fucking��love…you” he chanted with each thrust. Driving his cock deep into the velvet walls. Your whimpers and whines spur him on along with the begs to go faster and harder. The two of you lost in the moment, in the feel of each other. His ring was cool against your hip as it pressed into the flesh from his grip. Your dress rustles around you with every movement. Nothing else mattered, not the endless piles of paperwork on his desk waiting for him when he would return to the office, the complaints of customers you would eventually face in your own return to work. 

Everything could wait. Nothing would stop him from feeling this, the way you clenched and sucked him back in again. Trapped him in as he finally climaxed. His warmth flooded you, leaking out as he pulled away. Your shaking legs finally gave up as you fell onto the bed. A smile plastered on your face from where it was smooshed against the pillows. His fingers worked on undoing the back of the dress, your skin exposed to the cold. Fuck, he needed this sight engraved into his brain forever. You sat up, allowing the fabric to slip off your form with his help. The dress left to crease and crumple on the floor as you both tucked away in bed. 

He held you tightly against his chest, his heartbeat thumping loudly against your ear. Despite the great sex, this was what you cared about the most, the vulnerable moments where you slept the best. “Goodnight love” He whispered into your hair as he pressed a kiss into the crown of your head. You smiled against his skin, placing a kiss above the spot of his heart. Your fingers lazily traced along the scars that littered his chest until the room was filled with the soft snores of the newly weds. 

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 5

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability, mentions for Rafayel stories, and myths, violent imagery and arguments.

Word Count: 5456

Written: 9th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. Rafayel is so hard to write for a lot of reasons, but also is one of my favourite characters in any story because he's just... contains multitudes. I also feel like he's the one who struggles most with all these other people in MC's life. I also feel like he's so fixated on pain, and struggle, that he forgets kindness can be offered to him with no price. Anyway, I enjoyed working on this bit a lot even though it was hard. Enjoy! Also as a side note, the song of choice I can only partially explain, Rafayel out of all the boys makes me think of regency romance on a level I truly cannot explain. (even though he doesn't have a dancing scene... YET!!)

Now Playing: All I Want, by Kris Bowers

Masterlist AO3

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Rafayel loves you. That is never in doubt. He finds himself bitter and aching that there is so much you have shared that only he remembers.

Sometimes it comes out in harsh words or lies. Even though he knows it is unfair to punish you, when you can't control it.

Mostly, however, he tries to enjoy moments with you. Hoping that something will spark, and you will look at him and see long years of history.

Remember his longing and his love in all its forms.

Remember all the facets that make him up. Perhaps it's cowardice to want your memories to fill in the blanks that he is too scared to tell you. Blood on his hands, heart offered up. He does not want to see your expression change. For you to fear or hate who he is… who he can become.

He thinks about beautiful blue seas, and the breath stolen underwater.

When he finds himself thinking of the beach he waited at, every year, he pushes himself into his work.

Now, he spends most of his days at your side. In case you need him. He watches closely, because he's used to you hiding your struggle from him. When you're sick, you've hidden it, he's reminded you that you're not a superhero. As much as you put on a brave front for every kid that sees your hunter reels.

Rafayel has watched this version of you for a long time, before he finally met you again. Properly.

He has seen so many renditions of you, no matter who you have been… he has loved you. He has and will love you for eternity and beyond, even if it might be easier not to.

Rafayel has finished most of his work for his exhibit, as he stares at the final piece that is missing something that he cannot find.

Sun blends with sea, as the tides recede. As silver bones are left behind to bleach.

He stares and stares and nothing comes. Just that vague, irritating feeling of incompletion.

"You're going to burn a hole in it, fish."

"Sylus, leave the man alone, he's actually working."

Rafayel huffs… and therein lies his other problem. Your consortium of bizarre attachments. If he were less observant, he could pretend they see you as a friend only.

But he is a man who can kill another, who can plan his revenge, who can hide in plain sight. Who is capable of sneaking up even on the N109 Zone Leader.

So he can see and he can't ignore. He also can't ignore that they comfort you as well.

You have teased him for being childish, and he thinks the irritating feeling in his gut, that demands he steal all of your time, that you are his bonded partner, confirms such a claim. He is not possessive of a lot… your heart is his.

He tries to ignore the doctor and the crow. Staring straight ahead, hoping that answers will come to him, but he cannot. He can feel their presence and it is on the edge of his consciousness. Poking at it.

Like he is a crab on the beach and a child wants to watch his pincers clasp.

"Maybe you should take a walk, get some fresh air."

"Do you want the fish to suffocate, Doctor?"

"Truly, you are incapable of not prodding at others aren't you?"

He huffs this time, turning his face to look at the two. Zayne is typing on his laptop, barely looking up to converse, while Sylus is on his tablet, glasses on the end of his nose.

The two look eerily similar like this.

Rafayel tries not to compare the doctor to the crow, it's unflattering. At least the doctor can heal your wounds.

When he speaks though, his irritation comes out in the snippy tone he takes, "Your opinions are noted, dumb crow. Then swiftly discarded."

The man does that irritating little laugh he does, that is more a puff of air than a real laugh. Like it's too much effort to feel anything, and Rafayel wants to pluck his feathers.

How you can tolerate him, he'll never know.

At least the hunter is quiet…

Still, he wants to get out of here, they make it harder for him to think, and he can't make progress like this. So he stands, shrugging at them and heads towards the door, as he goes to make through he almost collides with you and Xavier returning from the hospital. He isn't surprised when you move out the way just in time, you're a hunter and your training has made you capable. Still as he greets you, you hesitate, before tugging at his shirt before he can leave.

He looks down, your hand holding onto the fabric, not tough enough to tear, but enough to halt his movements.

"Are you alright, Raffy?" 

It shouldn't surprise him that you notice the tick in his jaw, or the stress under his skin. It isn't the first time, and you've shown many times to have been able to pick out when his mood has dropped. You're observant as part of being a hunter, you're careful, you pay attention. You're smart.

You care.

About him, about his mood… about his life. His irritation settles, soothes at the edges, and his smile is easier, "I need some fresh air. Want to come with?"

You hesitate and he watches the fear enter your eyes. Wavering. You walk between the hospital and the apartment when you don't take Zayne's car, but that's the extent of your journeys. He wants to pull you by the hand… make you see the sea with him.

"Where are you going?"

"Whitesands."

It's far enough removed, very few people visit it, and he will get a walk somewhere familiar. Perhaps it's familiar enough for you to follow him.

He extends his hand, carefully, trying to keep the need from bubbling to the surface. If he could take you away far from here, he would. Take you to everything he's ever seen, so he can see it with new eyes. Yours.

Your hand stretches out, and your fingers tremble, before you finally take his, "Alright, if it's quiet." Your request is one he'll happily grant. Both of you alone, he can't think of a better way to spend his time.

The walk is kind to him, as they head towards Whitesand Bay, he gets to keep your hand in his, listen to the song of the world, and watch as your steps become lighter. You stop staring down at your arm and checking around you, eventually focusing on the sky and him.

As feet crunch on white sand, and approach the edge of tides. You let go of his hand to walk a little further out, and he watches. As you crouch, as you reach fingers to the water.

Rafayel paints everything he thinks is beautiful, tragic, or brings pain to his soul. You hurt him too, in ways he aches for. Like he is placing his hand in a burning flame, and holding it there, because the longer he holds it, the closer he gets to what he craves.

Like there is an answer there, waiting over the edge of agony. If he tumbles after it, he'll find what eludes him.

There's a feeling in him that wants to drown you with him. He could swim out, with you in his arms, and pull you under. On the edge of the question of life, before he gives you the means to breathe alongside him. He's warned you of the nature of sirens, and you've looked him in the eye and told him you don't fear him.

You should, though, he knows. You should fear the ocean's grasp as well as his own, because he wants your heart for his.

As you turn your eyes back to him, soft smile tugging the scar on your face, his heart thunders and then stills. Flames and agony. The need to touch and hold it in his hand… Lit against the contours of your face, and the glimmer in your eyes.

His inspiration is always closer than he thinks.

—-----

Rafayel dislikes your companions.

The prince gets to spend all of his time with you, working together, protecting each other. Where Rafayel had to convince you to be his bodyguard, just for a fraction of that time.

The doctor is who you trust with your injuries and your wounds, he is who you go to when something hurts. You hid your sickness from Rafayel before now, so he didn't doubt your capabilities.

The crow… the crow gets under his scales. Like a tick. Biting and bleeding and ruining his skin. Yet you trust him, a man who built all his life on violence. Who has blood on his hands. Who is open about his sins… While he cannot tell you for fear of the look in your eye changing.

It is safe to say the crow is his least favourite. The one who grinds at him most, who plucks and pulls. Like a hook in his upper lip. He dreams of drowning the man… he would if the look in your eyes didn't stop him.

So he hates them, he thinks. The anger and irritation and the childish petulance. He wants your attention and he fights for it, he wants you to trust him most. It took too long to gain entrance into your home, reminding himself that time builds strong bonds. That he should be patient. He did not want to scare you, to startle you. Like you are a small fish and he is a bigger… hungrier beast.

There is no peace when they are around, and normally pain brings him inspiration, an answer on the end of a paintbrush. A vision in the agony.

Whatever feeling they inspire is not pain, and it brings him no art to create, no feelings to share in blues and greens. Nothing to show for it.

He has thankfully, however, finished his final piece. So there is a relief in him, even as the crow looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

Rafayel ignores the man, looking straight ahead, signing his work. Paintbrush steady. Steadier than the racing heart in his chest.

He will not lose a game of chicken with an overgrown bird.

So when the crow turns to walk away, he is relieved, and so smug, until he hears a crunch. Looking over quickly, and staring down at the floor.

"Ah, what a shame."

One of Rafayel's paintbrushes snapped in half by the stupid crow's foot.

He levels a glare at the man, "Are stupid crows clumsy too?"

"Are all fish messy? Your things have spread across the apartment."

"I'm working!"

"Quite diligently I see, despite galavanting off to the beach. Inspiration was it?"

The look on the crow's face is too level. It's too calm. He does not respond to the rise of Rafayel's voice. He does not flinch at the glare in his eyes. He does not move, from where his foot is still on his brush.

It is a feeling of irritation that burns and scorches where it stands.

He has to tolerate and bite his tongue. He has to think and be careful. He has to share, where he does not want to share.

You are his heart, why does he have to look at the eyesore in his vision, and think about his hands on you too.

His anger bubbles and froths and overflows. A pot that has been left, and forgotten. You will forget him too, in favour of a crow! A stupid. Foolish. Irritating crow.

He stands and presses forwards, fangs bared and sharp. He is a predator of the seas. This man is nothing. He is a god of the tides. This man is a petty criminal.

Rafayel knows you better, he has seen more incarnations than this man can even comprehend, and he dares to play at favour?

"If you wish to be drowned, crow, I am happy to oblige."

Eyebrow quirks at him, a look in his eyes that Rafayel can't make out, but it glitters and twinkles, "I'd love to see you try, fish, but I'm afraid you couldn't hope to kill me."

"I am more than willing to try."

"Then you'll simply be hurting your 'beloved bride', wouldn't you?"

He snarls, a low noise in the back of his throat, hand reaching out to grab at the man's throat. To snap it, bite through it, to cut his voice permanently, he isn't sure. It will hurt, and he will deserve it. For calling you what he cannot. Too many memories that you cannot hold in your heart.

The crow steps forwards, as if daring him to try. To wrap his hands around his throat and twist. To slice his throat open with a dagger. To see. To show him if it's true.

"Raffy?" Your call comes from the side, stumbling in, voice wary.

His hand hovers, he debates. Thinks for a moment. Stares at the crow's adam apple as the man swallows his laughter down. The dare is there, waiting for him to take… and they both know he won't.

So he rips his hand back, offers you the kind of smile that shakes at the foundations, "Hey cutie, I was just going out for the exhibit."

You open your mouth to speak, and he shakes his head, grabbing his canvas. Lifting it far too quickly to be safe, and turns on a heel, "I'll see you later."

The speed he leaves the apartment leaves the door frame shaking behind him. Heading out, running from the place. From the crow's dare, from the wary look in your eyes.

From the inadequacy… the guilt… the irritation. The pain.

What lurks over the abyss could just be nothingness. A world where you don't want him, or need him. Where without your memories you do not look at him, hear him call you his beloved bride, and love him as you once did. Where his bond with you is not enough, and he simply has to experience the heart that cannot beat for anyone but you.

That he has lied and hidden and kept from you for too long, that a criminal with blood on his hands who does not hide… claims your heart for his.

His heart…

There is pain behind his art and in his soul. A reminder that he cannot always be with you in every life, and he prays this is not one of them. An alter of suffering that he would cut his chest open at, if you would always look at him.

—--

You cannot stop thinking about the look on Rafayel's face.The agony in his eyes as he'd darted from the room. You'd asked Sylus who had shrugged, "I broke his paintbrush." But not explained further.

You'd seen Rafayel break his own paintbrushes in his studio, stepping on them, falling over them. Resulting in a trip to the hospital because of how messy things were.

You help Sylus clean up some of the mess, containing it in a corner with the rest of Raffy's things, hoping it would alleviate some of the feeling you can't seem to shake in the air. A stagnation. It feels like decay, and you can't open enough windows to air it out.

If Sylus decides not to share, he won't. You've known him long enough, pried at his secrets enough, that you don't waste the strength anymore. He shares what he wants, when he wants to.

So you abandon the effort and go about your day. It drags. Waiting for time to pass, working through your exercises, before you have to leave.

As the time approaches, the clock hand moving, it begins to click harder. The sound impending.

You think about other exhibits, the amount of people, the noise…

It cuts through the excitement, the peace of the wait, the boredom.

You pause as you're getting ready, staring at the prosthetic arm flexing in front of you. The movement of metal fingers, the clear indication of your injury… your failure.

You're going to see Rafayel. A man who people will be looking at. Commending.

Taking photos of.

Do you really want to be stood next to him like this? To draw attention to yourself and him?

An icy chill runs up your spine, and you stop. You have to get these clothes off. You have to cancel. You can't go.

You can't be there.

You feel the chain on your ankle, it tugs and it pulls, and it drags you back. The beast that settled, has woken up. It is hungry and it is angry, and it is laughing at you for trying.

A mistake, this was a mistake. You made a promise to someone you care about, and now you're going to hurt him. Either way, you're going to hurt him. Make him look stupid. Make him hate you.

You're going to break this fragile peace. Bring that agonised look into his eyes again.

Take from a man who gives you so much. Love, affection, kindness, warmth, acceptance, joy.

You are ripping all those things from his hands, and returning nothing.

"Kitten?" You stumble, when the voice startles you out of your thoughts. Falling back onto the bed, looking up as Sylus enters, not bothering to wait for an answer. Ever since your mission had gone wrong, he has been far less hesitant. If he could ever be said to be hesitant.

When he sees you sitting, tears in your eyes, he approaches you, kneels in front of you. Hands on your knees. Soothing your skin. His skin is so warm, it's like a brand. You almost pull away. On fire, itching, hurting. He notices your flinch and pulls his hands away. The relief of the cool is intense, and you choke on the feeling.

You're the mistake. Too fragile to be touched. Too useless to be helpful. Too much work.

He takes in your rumbled clothing. The shirt half pulled off, the jacket thrown away from you, the trousers unclasped. You are shivering, and shaking, and while you can see his hands twitching. Yearning, needing to soothe, he knows he can't. So he tries to speak, hesitant now, "Don't you like them?" You think about the time he spent, finding things with Rafayel that are easier to wear. Clasps that can be done easier with one hand, or buttons bigger for your unsteady metal fingers.

Things that require the least amount of struggle. If he could not find them, he had them made.

The two of them, you think as you try to fight through the fog, are dangerous.

You shake your head numbly. "I can't go."

It doesn't require much more from you, even without his eye, Sylus reads people. He reads you. He's said sometimes he cannot understand the workings of your mind, but he improves everyday. It is terrifying to be seen by him. Terrifying for him to look under the rough exterior, to the rougher interior.

You wait for the moment that he realises you're not worth it.

"You'll be with us." He starts, and you look down at where his hand twitches towards you, then back. "You won't be alone."

You haven't been alone, you think. In all the time you've spent with this. This weight, first on your back, then on your ankle. They have come to find you. Looking.

Just like Caleb did.

Is it enough? This could be that wakeup call.

"Rafayel wants you there, he's excited to see you." It is odd. It is hearing Sylus say 'Rafayel' and not 'fish', that jolts you back. Just like the moment you saw them in your kitchen, arguing. Just like when you saw them all walk through that door when the blanket was your only defence.

It is a realisation of how odd this is. How bizarre they are.

It almost makes you hiccup a laugh. The idea of Sylus speaking for Rafayel. You think about how warm he is to you, how he takes your hand easily.

I will always want to look at you.

"What if it's too much work?" You finally manage, the agony lightening so you can speak, no longer tearing at you. Though you can feel the creature on your ankle. Tugging. Like a dog with a chew toy.

"The important things are worth it."

Important.

Learning to use your prosthetic is hard. Learning to trust is hard.

It was with Caleb, it is with all of them. It is a constant struggle. A constant weight. To try.

They catch you, with a security net. Give you space to breathe, so you can stand back up again.

You think about what you want, think about what will make you happy… what is worth living for.

It is the reason to keep getting up.

You want to see Rafayel's work, you want to see the people you care about. You want to keep your promise to a man who values you. A hesitant shaky hand takes Sylus' where it hovers. The way you can watch him heave a sigh, the tension in him easing, as he clasps yours between both of his. Tight, but not suffocating. He grounds you, and it doesn't burn.

"What do you think, Kitten? Do you want to try?"

Sylus has never belittled you for tears, or made you feel your emotions are a mistake. When you are drowning, he offers a hand. When you anger and hurt, he is there, either to join you in your hurt, or to help appease it.

He offers you a choice, and he means it. If you truly do not want to, you know he will accept it. If you want to, he will help.

"I want to try."

He nods, pulling you up with him, to stand, straight into his chest. So that you can feel his uneven heart beating against you. "Then let's get you ready."

—-----

He should never have left so early. He should have stayed with you.

Rafayel left the apartment in frustration and anger and now he stares at his phone, hoping to see your name pop up.

It is an agitating feeling. To be stood on the edge of the cliff and not know if there's water below.

He has forced himself to listen to Thomas, to go through the motions, to ensure his exhibit is set up correctly. He has sat under too bright lights, feeling himself drying up, as he waits. As the clock hand moves, as he thinks, and he struggles.

If he keeps running, will you stop chasing him?

As his exhibit starts, he checks again, only to see a message from the doctor, 'Good luck today'. He doesn't respond. He stares at it. It's unsettling. He doesn't want the doctor to wish him good luck. He doesn't want his comfort.

He doesn't need it.

Even when his agitation settles a moment, and he hides it from Thomas who asks him why he's smiling. He's not.

That doesn't mean anything.

He does not wave at Xavier as he walks through the door, milling around the paintings quietly. Avoiding the bigger crowds. He tries not to think about the fact that he's come to see.

It doesn't matter.

As time passes, Rafayel fidgets.

Stares at the door.

Fidgets.

Stares at the door.

He walks around the room, passes Xavier, who hands him water quietly, then walks off. He stares down at it, but he's parched, the crowds are tiring him out, the people are talking like they understand him, and he just wants to be somewhere else. So he downs it, and lets the relief of the chill settle in his throat.

He talks absently to people he doesn't really care to listen to. Thomas gives him a talk about doing his duties.

Irritation settles in his stomach. He doesn't care about his duties. He cares about seeing you.

He checks his phone, and is relieved, though irritated, when he gets a message from the crow, 'We're on our way'. He sends back a thumbs up, though it is through a shaky hand. Excitement makes it unsteady.

It is when he is not staring at the door, when he hears your voice behind him. "Raffy?" Pulling away from where he is avoiding Thomas' lectures, he takes you in. Your hand is grasped in the crow's, eyes darting around the room. You're wearing your prosthetic, a dark blue jacket over your shoulders, painted with green and blue flowers. Flared trousers and a light shirt. He absently thinks that the crow's style isn't too ridiculous, if it means you visit his exhibits like this. Like one of the flowers in a garden he wants to take you.

"Cutie!" It is relief and it is the weight of hundreds of years that shed. He waited, he waited, and you came. He takes your hand away from the crow, not without giving a smug little smile, which receives him a smirk, and kisses the back of it. "You made it."

He watches your eyes glisten, he can feel the heat off your cheeks. Not all embarrassment, he knows some of it is stress, but it is enough. "You don't have to stay long." He promises, it doesn't matter how long you stay. You came. You came, no matter what.

You came, and he knows it wasn't easy.

The laugh you release, it trembles, like your hand, but it is accompanied by the small smile he is learning to draw with his eyes closed. "Show me your work?"

"I'll go find the prince, call me if you need me." The crow offers, he leans, kissing your temple, before he leaves. You blink after him a bit, touching where he kissed with your hand, pulling it from Rafayel's grasp, and then look at him. He glares after the man, but doesn't offer much of a response.

"Come on then cutie, you're mine." He doesn't look as he grabs your hand, and he knows he is grinning at you. Pulling you forwards with him, darting to where his art calls for you.

He doesn't notice the chill in your hand, until he eases his fingers over it. Feeling grooves and edges. He almost releases when he realises he has grabbed your prosthetic, you are staring down at it with him.

Rafayel looks at you, tries to read the look in your eyes. It is soft, and awed and gentle. So he raises it to his lips, kissing the wrist. You tremble, blinking, before tightening your grip just a little.

It is the soft, warm look in your eyes, as you tug him forward a little bit more, a laugh bubbling out of you. "Come on Raffy."

He takes you around all of his paintings, and just watches you.

You don't offer him opinions or thoughts often, he has learned if he gives you space to look, you can tell him how you feel. What his art brings out in you. If he looks closely at your face, he can watch it. Trembling in your eyes.

As you flit amongst paintings, like a butterfly amongst flowers, tugging him along with you. He follows willingly.

There are moments when you stop, and your hand twitches out. Like you are holding back the urge to run your fingers over the paint. Tracing shapes, touching at his heart directly.

He wants to tell you that you can do as you please. That you are the one who he wants to understand him most. That his art, and his soul are yours to do with as you like. That you could tear images from his canvas, and he would still paint more for you.

Finally you find yourself in front of his struggle. Bleached bones on the beach, tides easing out. Leaving scars behind.

At the edges of the horizon, the sun rises again. Painting the once dreary sky in a rainbow.

You are the sunrise that greets him, that reminds him that time moves forwards. That there is something to see after the night.

That tomorrow has a chance for better than today.

You bloom like a flower before his eyes, a sight he could never have seen beneath the waves. A reminder of why he came to visit the surface every year. A reminder of all the wonders of land that he idolised as a child.

"Beautiful." Is exhaled, and he is unsure if it was you or him. The twinkling in your eyes, perhaps it was both.

Eventually he feels the strain in your countenance, the exhaustion, so he sneaks with you out of the exhibit. Escaping into gardens that are quiet, and closed to others. A locked gate has never kept him out of anywhere, however.

It is the quiet that settles you, and he settles alongside you. No longer wearing a mask he does not want for people who come to stare at his work. He pulls you amongst flowers, fields of lilies, and whispers of petals.

Secluded and alone. The way he feels best with you.

Lying down in the grass, to look up at the sky, stars twinkling.

It is with the view of the stars that you speak, voice tinged in a guilt he wishes to chase away, "I almost didn't come. I'm sorry Raffy."

His eyes turn to you, to read the draw of your lips, the pain in your eyes, the way you tighten your grip on his hand. Cool metal against skin that reacts to you more than any other. Sensitive, aware.

Your touch will always alight his senses.

He knows the hesitation, he thinks about the way you wavered on the edge, hand extended to you as you feared to take it. He knows that you are adjusting. He regrets asking you to promise, to put that weight on your shoulders.

He is relieved you came. To see him, to stare at the workings of his heart, and yearn to trace it with fingers.

His patience and his need fight often. His awareness of pushing, his desperation. It is hard to balance.

"What changed your mind?"

You edge a little closer on the grass, so that the heat of him spreads over the sensors of your prosthetic. Alongside the gentle stroking of his thumb over your hand. "Sy told me you wanted me to be here… and I wanted to be here for you."

Rafayel's first instinct is the kind of reaction he's seen cats get to water. Hissing and jumping up. Shaking himself furiously.

There is great dissatisfaction at comparing himself to the demons.

There is greater dissatisfaction at the crow, helping him. In any way.

It is a feeling of being pulled back by the scruff of his neck, away from the abyss he seeks out. The fall into the ocean.

The agony on the edge of the conscious.

You poke his cheek with your other hand, then brush hair back and his heart settles its seething. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"That they care for you." It is whispered, and it is tentative, and he sees the worry in your eyes.

The fear at his arguments before. The anxiety that you are causing distress.

Forcing them. Making them clash in enclosed spaces. Like caged beasts.

It is the wary voice that calls out to him, tries to ask the question about the pain in him, the voices and the agony ripping and pulling and hurting. The pain that grants him no inspiration.

They care.

A message sent to wish him luck. A quiet presence bringing him water when he dries. A fool giving you the push to move forwards to lead your feet to him.

You have not stopped looking for him and at him, and he has been holding you like a toy he does not wish to share…

It is a feeling he isn't ready to digest or question, not when the stars are bright and you are safe next to him. It is one he will think about in days to come, as he watches the doctor help him clean. As he is offered a pillow the prince favours in order to sleep better.

When the crow argues with him, but gives him food that satisfies a hunger he forgets to appease for himself.

When you do not look at him any less. That he has not lost anything, he is not lesser.

It is a feeling for later.

To help paint canvas he wants to share one day, though pain is absent, and something else glimmers in the sea.

[a-penchant-for-the-lethe]

I love that no matter what animagus, I see people headcannoning Regulus as (a snake or a black cat or whatever) it's always an animal that likes to bask in the sun. I just find that so cute. Like snakes are cold-blooded, so they need the sun's warmth to survive, and cats will actively seek out the nicest sun spot to nap in. Like, no matter his form, Regulus searches for James in the warmth of a comfortable sun beam. In how safe he feels curled up by a sunny window. Does that make sense?

[streetlamp-amber]

can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun (FULL VERSION)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

(Warnings: forced relationship, implied nsfw content, implied noncon/dubcon, dark content, implied baby trapping)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

You comply, dropping your bag, making your way to the bed. When you look at him from beneath your lashes, warily expectant, Satoru feels a thrill rushing through his body. 

He's always been impatient. It's in his nature to take. He nips at your mouth, eager to taste your soul from your soft lips. Soft. Everything about you is so soft—Malleable beneath his fingers. 

Satoru didn't explicitly say what his plan was, but you aren't stupid. He can tell you know what's about to happen when you stiffen in his hold, turn to stone within his grip. He would've allowed it if you hadn't gripped onto his shirt, pulling yourself away from his feasting. 

"Satoru?" You whisper, still leaning away. "The door...?" 

Annoyed, he glances over. His room is open. It shouldn't really matter. 

"It's fine." Satoru tells you. "No one's here." No one's ever here. 

You still look panicked, hands gripping his shirt. Satoru finds that adorably pathetic. How helpless you are. How that's all because of him.

He's sure to make a big show of it. Satoru gives a dramatic sigh, slumps his shoulders, but eventually pushes himself off the mattress to push at the door. He even clicks it shut. He's too nice, sometimes. 

"Happy?" You nod, you don't look very relaxed but your shoulders have dropped a bit. 

Satoru doesn't feel too guilty pushing you down, not when you're already in his bed. He isn't known for his patience. He tastes your skin, leaving marks when he can: teeth bites. He pushes you down down down down so he can sink his teeth into your flesh.

You're asleep and under the covers by the time he's done. The moon's out too. Satoru watches it, largely unimpressed. It's so tiny, a sliver of glowing white. 

And then you shift, turning ever so slightly, enough to catch his attention. He should probably kick you out and send you home. That's what he usually does. When he gets into bed with you, draping his arms around your limp body, he convinces himself it's because he's tired and waking you up would be too much of an effort. 

He lets himself enjoy your warmth; it's nothing like the cold glow of the moon. 

☾

Sometimes, even Gojo Satoru wonders if he's dreaming. 

Sometimes, life is too perfect for him to realize it is real. Everything falls perfectly in place, fitting together like those jigsaw puzzles his caretakers used to distract him with halfheartedly. 

You're in his kitchen, chopping vegetables. 

It had already been a few weeks, but he still wasn't used to this. You, being in his home, in his kitchen, in his bed. Satoru thinks he's masking it well, but his mind is still reeling, it's a difficult adjustment. 

Not a bad one. 

It's like he's been drowning for years and he can suddenly breathe when he sees your toothbrush next to his. It's like he's been stabbed and waking up to your sleeping face is the aloe. It's like he's been suffering through a blizzard, and you cooking in his kitchen, humming a song he doesn't know, is the warm sunny day. 

Things have changed since he brought you home. His home doesn't feel incomplete anymore. As though the apartment itself has agreed that this is where you belong. There are more clothes in his closet, more shoes by the door. The space is ever so slightly less empty and it fills him with tangible relief. He can cook a meal, but it's still nice coming home to something warm already made. 

It makes Satoru wonder what things could have been like, had it not been taken away from him. 

You flinch when he wraps his hands around your waist, nestling into the space in your shoulder. You hadn't heard him come in, apparently. Regardless, you don't linger, fingers hesitating before resuming your task. He finds this part of you adorable. Ignoring the thing that makes your heart race, as though he'll just fade away into the shadows. 

It's his ego that makes him slink into your warm skin, making sure you know he isn't going anywhere. 

"Smells good," he says. 

You nod, pushing away the bell peppers in favor of the onions. Unlike him, you acclimated extremely well. It'd taken nothing to lightly push you to add more and more stuff from your apartment to his. You quietly moved from one setting to another. He remembered this trait of yours from high school. Go with the flow. 

Though, perhaps, it was less out of genuine apathy. Satoru doesn't have to say what will happen to you if you refuse him. He doesn't have to throw lectures about his family and the influence he has on you. He likes that you aren't stupidly brave. He likes that you're meeker, quieter. You pick your battles. 

But he thinks he'd like to see you crack, just one more time. 

"Hey," he says, "let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. There's this restaurant just out of town that has great shrimp cutlet." 

He expects you to nod, like you always do whenever he decides to do something impulsive and meaningless. Instead, you bite your lip. 

"I can't." You mutter after a minute of silence. "I have work. Mr. Higuruma just closed a deal and—and I think I'll be coming home later and later this week." 

Home. It's enough to make his heart flutter. It's the first time you've called the apartment that. Your words almost make him forget about the second thing you said.

Higuruma. The lawyer guy with dead eyes. Satoru remembers him. He always looked at Satoru like he was a child, too stupid to do anything. He never liked how the guy looked at you. Besides, he was way too old for you, never mind that you were taken. You were always taken.

"Oh, right." Satoru gives an exaggerated sigh, fully leaning on you. "Work. What a shame." 

You nod, clearly thinking the conversation is done with. Satoru wasn't so charitable. 

"Y'know, you don't really have to work. Not anymore, pretty girl." His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he pulls you towards his chest. Your hands freeze. The knife glints in your fingers. 

"I make plenty of money. You should just stay home. That way, you don't have to work shitty hours." 

You stiffen underneath his fingertips. He's disappointed when your skin turns frigid. When he peeks over your shoulder, intent to look at your face, there's a nervous smile twitching on your lips. 

"I don't think that's a good idea..." you trail off hesitantly. 

"Hm?" He tilts his head with faux confusion. "Why not?" 

The knife moves up and down, as though you can't decide whether to place it back on the cutting board. Satoru realizes it's your way of fidgeting. 

"It...it would just be unprofessional to leave when everything is so hectic." You finally decide on. 

Satoru scoffs. "So? Who cares. I'm sure everything will work itself out. Just rely on me, pretty girl." 

You don't like the answer, but you don't make a comment on it. Satoru just watches you rotate the knife in your hands. He wonders if you want to use it on him. Slice at his neck, leave him out to bleed on the pretty tile floor. Cut straight through his heart, ending it quickly. 

Or would you like to carve out his eye and keep it as a souvenir? He thinks he'd happily let you. It sounds romantic.

You don't do anything. Instead, you pull back your shoulders as if you're physically ready for war. 

"'Toru," you say gently, softly, and it works in his eyes, "I...can't let you support me like this. It's not right. It's not like we're married or anything." You laugh, like it's a joke. Satoru doesn't cave. 

"I mean, not yet." Satoru rocks you back and forth in his hold. "But gimme' some time to shop for a ring, okay? It needs to be perfect for my perfect girl." 

You follow his movements. He can see your mouth twitch out of the corner of his eye. Your eyes get glassy. 

He knows he's terrible, but he really wants you to crack. 

"You're right, Satoru." You say, "I'll put in my two weeks tomorrow." He grins in delight. 

"That's a great idea, baby." Satoru kisses you on the cheek.

Right, you pick your battles. 

☾

Satoru tells you he loves you, and you're gone, not even three days later. 

He breaks and shatters into pieces he'll never be able to put back. Each day without you is torture. He feels like a corpse, just going through the motions. His clothes feel looser. His skin doesn't feel like his own anymore. Every time he looks in the mirror, he sees someone he barely even recognizes. 

It's like you left with his heart. 

No, you ran away with his soul. 

One day, you were Satoru's, safely tucked underneath his arm...the next, you just weren't. 

His parents don't acknowledge it beyond casual disgust. Every time Suguru talks to him, Satoru can barely comprehend it. Days pass by. Everything reminds him of you. His bed feels emptier; he hates it when he reaches out to the space you used to take up and finds it cold. Your locker remains untouched. Nothing is ever the same. 

Satoru tries looking for you, but you're untraceable. No social media, no friends left to tell where you went, not even your fucking parents know where you are. 

You left him. 

You left him to rot. 

Denial comes first. It can't be. You wouldn't. You wouldn't fucking dare. Anger seeps in the next. For weeks, Satoru can only imagine what he'll do when he finds you. He'll break your legs this time. He'll squeeze your neck so hard that your head pops. He'll kill you over and over again until your corpse is begging to be forgiven. And he won't ever stop, because you're Satoru's. 

That doesn't stay for long. He feels himself get weaker day by day. Food tastes like dirt on his tongue. Any of his earlier vices are gone. 

He misses you. 

Why wouldn't he? You were his everything. 

Like all things, it passes. You aren't there to fuel the flames, so the fire wanes in his chest. The ache in his heart gets smaller and smaller. Things keep him busy. College. Then, his new position in the office. 

Ten years pass. He’s forgotten what you look like. But he remembers parts. Every so often, he sees a flicker of you within someone else. Your eyes are on another woman’s face. Your lips on a girl's smile. It irritates him to no end. It’s even worse when he starts seeking them out, keeping those parts of them for just the night. 

Sometimes, if he closes his eyes, he can still hear your voice—what he thinks is your voice—soft, needy Toru Toru Toru. 

“Gojo, sir?” 

He blinks. Ijichi stands in front of him. Satoru looks down at the meticulously crafted pages. 

“Mr. Higuruma needed you to sign this,” Ijichi lifts a paper filled with bureaucratic bullshit he pays other people to understand.

Why did Suguru take off now? 

“Sure sure,” Satoru says, “I’ll get it done.” 

Ijichi shifts nervously. “Well, it’d be best to finish it right now, Sir. His paralegal is just about to leave the building.” 

Oh, right. The lawyer’s assistant. Gojo could never get a good look at that person, but the assistant resembled a shaking deer to him at most times. He’s not even sure if they’ve ever talked to each other, but he always found the other a bit odd. Big eyes. A shaky expression. 

It was a little annoying to look at. 

☾

Some executive was throwing an office gala, and since he is Gojo Satoru, he needed to come along. 

And since you are Satoru's, you're dragged along too. 

Honestly, the only upside to this is you and that new dress he bought you. A velvet turquoise dress that he can't take his eyes off of. The gold jewelry draped across your neck makes you even more delectable. But his favorite part of the outfit is the shimmering diamond ring. 

The ceremony hadn't been anything extravagant. He'd just booked out one of his favorite restaurants, ordering lobster and sweet wine. He remembered hearing his heartbeat when he bent down on one knee, opening the elegant ringbox, like an oyster revealing its pearl. Looking back, he didn't know why he was so nervous: it's not like you'd say no. 

"What do you think of it?" He asked when you were back in his bed, bare from everything except that glistening ring. 

"It's pretty." You spoke, perfectly nestled in his chest. 

He feels in his heart when he hugs you, a small kiss in your hair. You say something, but he can't hear it; he is too preoccupied with feeling you in his arms. It's still so new, even after all these weeks. It's the anxiety, knowing at any second you could leave and he'd be nothing. He won't allow that, he can't. 

"I thought about something else, y'know?" He speaks quietly in your hair. "Ropes, chains, maybe. I could keep you here, forever. But—but then I realized how sad you'd get. I couldn't go through with it." 

You give no reaction. When he tilts your chin up to get a better look at you, your eyes are glassy. 

"You get that, right?" 

You nod. He's really too nice, sometimes. 

He spends the entire evening with you, tucked away in a corner, away from prying eyes. Just because he has to be there doesn't mean he has to be sociable. Every time someone walks up to him and you, a drink in one hand, he resists the urge to bite their head off, feigning politeness. He complains about their lack of decorum to you multiple times throughout the night, his head resting on your shoulder. You pliantly sit there, listening and nodding. 

About ten minutes after the last board member left, someone else walks up. By then, Satoru's patience has mostly declined. He peers over with disdain before he can really process who he's seeing. 

"Suguru!" He waves over. 

You stiffen, and Satoru remembers you haven't seen him in ten years. 

Suguru walks over with an easy smile on his face. He's nicely tanned, and Satoru is reminded of the pictures he sent over of the Maldives. Maybe that's where the honeymoon should be. 

"Had fun slacking?" Satoru asks with a grin; Suguru shrugs. 

When his eyes meet yours, he feigns delighted surprise. Suguru speaks your name with practiced shock. It's imperfect, only Satoru can see the amusement dripping from his fangs. 

"Long time, no see!" Effortlessly, Suguru corrals you into a hug. You follow, giving into the cold touch of affection before pulling away back to him. 

"Hello, Geto." You say when you're rightfully by his side again. "It's nice to see you again." 

Suguru laughs, light and airy. "You as well!" He looks at your hands, tilts his head. "Oh? Congratulations, you two! When's the date?" 

"Eh, we'll figure that out later." Satoru gives a quick kiss on your cheek. "Everything happened so fast, y'know? Us reuniting and everything: It feels like fate." Suguru's eyes flash. "Let's not rush this. We'll take our time." 

Suguru nods along thoughtfully. He's looking right at you, and you stare right back. Not used to feeling left out, Satoru is quick to intervene. 

The conversation is light, two long-time friends reuniting after a long spell. You stay quiet like decor, settling into Satoru's side. Suguru doesn't acknowledge you after that. 

"We gotta' go. It's getting late." He eventually says, tugging you along. 

Suguru gives a pleasant smile. "Of course, of course. We should catch up sometime." He directs this at you. You give a strained smile before Satoru leads you off. 

"Suguru." The man turns. Satoru grins. 

"I loved my gift. Thanks, man." 

Suguru's smile is catlike. 

"You kids have fun." He calls out right when Satoru's dragging you away all over again. 

You're silent. Not in the way you usually are, pliant and cute. You're thinking. He gives you a nudge. 

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?" 

You shake your head. "Nothing." And then you say, "He's changed." 

From your view, Satoru supposed that's true, but really—

"Nah." Gojo shakes his head. "He's just dropped his act." 

Satoru's hand was wrapped around your waist when you two ran into him. You hadn't noticed him yet, eyes fixed on the floor. The lawyer hadn't changed since the last time Satoru saw him. That dead expression, those creepy eyes. Higuruma's eyes flit over your figure, before he finds Satoru's. 

He stares. Satoru stares right back. Something gives, and the lawyer calls out your name. 

"How are you?" His tone is cool, and this is another reason why Satoru can't stand him. The guy has no tells. He's just a talking robot. 

Unlike you, fidgeting by his side, practically vibrating with nerves. 

"I'm fine, sir." Your smile gets more painful to look at by the second. 

Your voice earns you a tired smile, a mild pinch of humor. Higuruma shakes his head, waving you off. 

"No need for formalities. We aren't at work." His smile drops just a bit, as he watches you for a bit more, eyes flickering to your hand. "I was...surprised when I saw the announcement. I didn't know you and Mr. Gojo were involved." 

Satoru grins, making himself known like a shark in the water. His grip on you tightens. 

"Oh, you didn't tell your boss 'bout us, baby?" He looks down at you with cruel mirth, pinching your cheek. You wilt. "We go way back—highschool sweethearts. Lost contact for a couple years. It's actually thanks to you we were able to find each other again. We'll send you the invites." He presses a kiss to your hairline. 

Higuruma hums at that. Satoru expected jealousy in his eyes; he's even more upset when he finds none. 

"I'll be sure to save the date." 

Then he shuts Satoru down completely. 

"I heard about your resignation. It's sad to see you go," Higuruma says. 

You nod, but you don't look at him. "Satoru and I talked about it, and we decided it's best if I focused on other things." 

"Very, very busy, this one nowadays." Satoru interrupts. "Between wedding plannin' and all that."

"Is that so?" Higuruma says dismissively, "in any case, you already knew this, but I've begun preparations to start a new firm." He reaches into his wallet, pulling out a card. "I always thought you were good at what you do. If you ever want to get back into the industry, call me." 

You take the laminate slip with a quiet thank you. Satoru feels blue turn into red. 

When Higuruma slips into the party, Satoru tightens his grip on you a little harsher than necessary. He's dragging you through the halls. Behind him, he can hear you stumbling over your heels, begging him to slow down. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. That damn lawyer. Those dead eyes. Mocking him. 

"Did you fuck him?" He asks when his anger has reached a high enough peak that he presses you against the wall. 

Your eyes are wild, flitting back and forth. He'd your expression a little cute if he wasn't feeling like a furnace, at the moment. 

"No. I—we never." You say. "Mr. Higuruma was my boss. And—and he's married—" 

"Really? 'cause you're precious 'Mr. Higuruma' was eyeing you up and down like he's already seen what's underneath." 

"'Toru." You plead. "Let's—let's just talk about this at home. Please? Let's just go home." Home. You said that word again. If he were a better man, he'd melt, but he's not. 

"Shut up." He spits out. "Hike up your dress." 

You stare at him. Then, you try to smile, like he's making a shitty joke. It wavers on your lips. 

"It's...we're still in public." You whisper and it's so cute you think he'd actually care about that. "We—we can't...we shouldn't—" 

"Baby." His voice drops, as he licks at your neck. "Pull up your dress, get rid of those panties. Otherwise, I'm just gonna take it off myself." 

He doesn't need to explain anything further. You already get what he's saying. Right now, Satoru doesn't care if you leave this building with your clothes intact. 

He thinks the worst part is that he knows he's being unreasonable. He's backing you into a corner where you'll have no choice but to surrender, and he knows that, but he keeps thinking about those man's eyes and how he looked at you and it was just all so much. 

He'll apologize to you later, with flowers and shiny gold earrings. He'd give you the world; just be good for him now. 

He just needs his fix. So just be good for him now.

☾

When Satoru discovers it's been you all along, he feels like an idiot. 

In a pathetic way of defending himself, he convinces himself there's no way he could have recognized you. You're so different compared to your high-school self. 18-years old, fresh-eyed, naive. The you now is all grown up: a mature voice, a new hairstyle, clothes he'd never even think you'd wear. 

It also didn't help that he couldn't even see your face since you turned away every time he looked at you. 

Embarrassing. He's just glad Suguru wasn't here to call his blunder. 

He thought about it a lot. He spent an hour in his office, pacing around, doing nothing but thinking and thinking and thinking. Part of him wants to corner you already. He can already feel your rabbit heartbeat on his fingertips, the look you always had in your eyes when he was right in front of you. Part of him wants to ruin your life the same way you ruined his. He wants to tear you apart, piece by piece. Leave you in tattered pieces. 

But he can't do that. Satoru still loves you. 

You left him a hollow shell. Broken. Tainted. There are pieces of him he still can't find. He should hurt you. He's hurt other people for doing less. But they weren't you. Even after all those years, he's never quite stopped loving you. 

But he wants to sate his bloodlust, just a tiny bit. 

His perfect opportunity comes where he, the lawyer, and you are all sitting in one of the waiting rooms. The lawyers explaining something, possibly about the ongoing case. Satoru doesn't really care. Besides, this is what Ijichi's here for. 

He waits until everyone is quiet. You're unassuming. By then, your shoulders have lowered, like you think you've gotten away with it 

"Hey," he says, "do we know each other?" 

The other two don't bother, but you stop completely. The pen in your grip shakes. Satoru resists the urge to laugh. 

You timidly glance up like you're still delusional enough to think there's a fifth person he's talking to. Satoru has always been told his eyes are like two suns: bright and intense. He lowers his glasses. You wilt under the solar flares. 

"Hm?" He prods, enjoying the way you shrivel. "Have we?" 

You swallow, glassy eyes flicking from side to side. Finally, you clear your throat. 

"No." You mutter, voice barely a whisper. "I don't think we have." 

"Are you sure?" To intensify the magnifying glass, he leans closer, like he's examining you. "'cause you look really familiar." 

To his delight, you chew on your bottom lip. He can imagine biting it until it's bloody and raw. He stops just when you're about to shatter completely. Breaking you too soon would take the fun out of it. 

"Oh, wait. I don't think that was you." He relents, pulling back and he can see the relief ooze over your face. "I think I got you mixed up with someone who interviewed here a couple months ago. My bad. Maybe you have one of those faces." 

You nod, eager to take the out. 

"Yes," you quickly say, "one of those faces." 

How adorable. You haven't changed since high school. 

He's usually not this obvious, but Suguru isn't here to berate him about it and it's not like anyone else will get on his ass. The women he brings in are his usuals: tall models with full lips and perfect bodies. Satoru parades them around like expensive jewelry. He wants to see you seethe in envy, stew in it. He wants you to see what you abandoned. 

But you don't do any of that. You just sit there, like the dutiful little workbee you are, right by your boss's side.

And then, you give one of them your jacket. Satoru can't stand it wrapped around her waist like she fucking owns it—own you. She wears it so flagrantly, like any token from you shouldn't be worshipped and coveted. He hates it. He hates it. 

"I've never done this in an office before." She squeals when she shuts the door behind her. "So, how do you—" 

"Get out." 

The girl pauses. What was her name again? Satou was too pissed to give a single shit. 

"Um, what?" 

"What, you deaf or something?" He waves her off as if he weren't seething. "Get out." 

"Oh," she says, blinks, and then she takes a step back. 

"Wait." Satoru stops her. 

"Take that off." He points to your jacket. She does it with zero complaints. When he tells her to drop it on the chair, she follows that too. Reluctant expectation. Kind of like you. Maybe that's why he was initially invested in her. 

He only takes the fabric after she's gone. It's soft underneath his fingertips. Nothing designer, but good quality. When you're finally underneath him again, he'll buy you better clothes, all the jackets you want. 

He needs you. He can't wait anymore. 

He needs you, whether you want him or not. 

☾

Satoru wakes up to something crashing. 

It's faint, obviously coming from the bathroom. Not the best way to be woken up. He remembers the first few nights he brought you home. He'd hear you crying in your sleep, choking on tiny sobs. It was the sweetest little thing, like a whimpering puppy. 

These noises are a little more concerning. 

He yawns, sliding out of bed. You didn't bother locking the door. You didn't even close it all the way, either. A sliver of light comes from the crack before he pushes it open. 

"Baby?" He calls. You don't answer. 

You had knocked over a caddy. Toothbrushes, hairclips, soap dispensers, perfume bottles were scattered all over the floor. You're curled up in the corner of the bathroom, huddled right next to the tub. You seem physically okay, no blood, no bruising, but he can't see your face. And you're shivering. 

Satoru's about to call out to you, when he steps on something. He looks down at the tiles. 

A positive pregnancy test. 

"I'm not keeping it." Your voice is hoarse, like you've been crying for hours. "I'm not keeping it." 

"Pretty girl." He coos, trying his best to keep the glee out of his voice and failing. "Let's not worry 'bout that, right now. C'mon, let's get you off the floor." He reaches for your hand. You smack it away. It stung. 

When you look at him, eyes bloodshot and brimming with angry tears, Satoru's heart skips a beat. He feels like he just trapped a wild animal, making it pace in a corner. Any wrong move could result in his hand getting bit off. It's scary. 

He's finally cracked you. 

"Fuck you." Your voice shakes and wobbles, but it's loud and you're clear. "Fuck you. You're a sick, twisted man-child. You ruined everything. You ruined my entire life and—and now you—" 

You're cut off by his giggling. It sounds psychotic even to his ears. He's beyond caring. You flinch when lifts your face up, forcing you to look into his eyes. He's smiling so hard it hurts. 

"Yeah, I did that. I ruined you. I ruined your entire fucking life. For me." He stresses, squeezing your face so hard you try to pull away. "But I had to. You—you wouldn't be here if I didn't." He sighs, pressing your body to his. "I need you."

You're both huddled on the bathroom floor, captive and lover. He's clutching you to his chest, smiling, nestling his face in your hair. You don't say anything for a while. 

"I'm not keeping it." You whisper. "I'm not. I wouldn't stand it if it ended up like you." 

It's spiteful. You're still in that phase where you think your venom can hurt him, as though he'd see your blows as anything but blessings. Satoru thinks to his own childhood. Where he was given everything, lathered in gold and silver. Yet, the house was always cold. But you were always so warm. 

"That won't happen." He tells you. "'cause you're here." 

Your anger has dwindled to smoke. Maybe you've finally realized how crazy he was for you. 

"Please let me go." It's not a beg. It's not even a request. 

"I can't," he honestly says. 

"You won't." You correct him. 

He smiles in your hair. 

"No baby," he says, "I can't." 

If you ran away again, if you escaped his claws, he'd probably die. Drop dead, rot on the floor. He needs you. Even more than he needs food, water, and oxygen. You won't understand that. You've never been in love before. 

You don't fight him. If anything, you sink into his hold. He's there to catch you, heart soaring. You lean into his chest 

"I hate you." You whisper. His heart beats a little faster. It's probably the first time you've ever been so honest with him. 

God, he loves you. 

"I hope our baby has your eyes," he says. 

"I hope our baby looks exactly like you." 

You say nothing, but when he leans down to kiss you, you finally kiss back. You're cracked, and your essence is ready to be molded in his image, just like he's always wanted you to be. 

If Satoru is the Sun, then you must certainly be his universe, the plane in which he rests, because there would be no existence for him if not for you. 

[littlelamy]

awww reader giving rafe and the boys a what’s in my bag 😭 makes me think about influencer!reader and rafe being her number one fan, always the first to like her posts and watch her videos, and being her plus one to brand trips 🥲

a/n: thank you so much for sending a request! 💗😘

you’re lounging on the balcony of your suite, the ocean breeze brushing against your skin as you scroll through your phone. the brand trip has been flawless so far—luxury dinners, sun-soaked beach days, and glamorous events. but the highlight of every trip is having rafe by your side. he’s always there, always watching, always… hovering. it’s comforting in a way that shouldn’t be, knowing that he’s never far.

you post another photo—a candid shot of you in a bikini, sipping on a coconut drink while the sun sets behind you. within seconds, the likes start pouring in, but there’s only one notification you care about. rafe cameron liked your post.

first. always first.

a satisfied smirk tugs at your lips as you refresh the page, his name pinned at the top of the likes. it’s been like this since the beginning. rafe's obsession with you was never subtle, but lately, it's become... intense. he doesn’t just support you—he monitors everything. every post, every story, every brand collaboration. he knows about your analytics before you even check them. sometimes, you wonder if he’s more invested in your success than you are.

he walks out onto the balcony, shirtless, his eyes immediately drawn to your phone. “let me guess, another bikini pic?” he says, his voice dripping with playful jealousy, though his hand finds its place on the back of your neck, fingers tightening possessively.

you laugh, but there’s a tension in the air. “you know it’s what the followers love, rafe.”

“yeah, but i’m the only one who actually gets to see it up close,” he mutters, pulling you into his lap without waiting for you to respond. his arms wrap around your waist, and you feel the heat of his body against yours. “doesn’t stop them from commenting though, does it? all those guys thinking they’ve got a shot with you.”

you roll your eyes. “you know none of that means anything. it’s just part of the job.”

“part of the job,” he echoes, his lips brushing against your ear. “i get it, babe. but sometimes i think about how lucky they are, just to get a glimpse of you, and it drives me fucking insane. they don’t deserve it.”

his grip on your waist tightens, not painfully, but enough to remind you just how possessive he can be. rafe’s obsession has never been the unhealthy kind, but it borders on something dangerous—something thrilling. he lives for you, breathes for you, like your entire world is his, and everyone else is just background noise. and god, do you love it.

“rafe,” you murmur, turning your head to look at him. “you’re the only one who matters. you know that.”

his blue eyes darken, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans in, his mouth brushing against yours. “good. because i’m not letting anyone else have you.”

he kisses you like he needs to remind you who you belong to. it’s intense, like everything with rafe—his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand even an inch of space between you. when he pulls back, his thumb traces your jawline, his gaze never leaving yours.

“when’s the next shoot?” he asks, his voice low, almost a growl. “i’m coming with you.”

“it’s tomorrow, but it’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“no,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “i want to. i need to make sure everything’s perfect for you. that the crew treats you right. that no one steps out of line.”

there it is again—that obsessive protectiveness that borders on something darker. he’s always been territorial, but lately, it’s like he’s afraid someone will swoop in and take you away, even though you’ve never given him a reason to doubt your loyalty.

you don’t mind though. rafe’s obsession with you is as intoxicating as it is overwhelming. you’ve always liked the way he watches you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. and honestly? you like the power that comes with it. you know rafe would burn the world down if it meant keeping you by his side.

later that night, you’re getting ready for a dinner event hosted by one of the brands you’re working with. as you apply the finishing touches to your makeup, you can feel rafe’s eyes on you from across the room. he’s lounging on the bed, scrolling through his phone, but his attention is on you. it always is.

“are you wearing that?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it.

you glance down at the tight dress you’ve chosen—elegant, but definitely on the sexier side. “yeah, why? don’t you like it?”

“oh, i like it,” he says, standing up and walking over to you. he’s behind you in an instant, his hands sliding over your waist, pulling you back against him. “but so will every other guy in that room.”

you laugh softly, leaning into him. “you love when i get attention, don’t lie.”

“only if they know they can’t have you.” his hands tighten on your hips, his lips brushing against your neck. “but i’m coming with you. making sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

“you don’t trust me?” you tease, but there’s something in his intensity that excites you.

“it’s not you i don’t trust,” he mutters. “it’s them. everyone’s always trying to get close to you. but i won’t let them. they don’t deserve you. none of them.”

there’s that possessiveness again, the way he wraps himself around you like he’s trying to shield you from the rest of the world. rafe’s obsession with you is suffocating in the best way, and you thrive off it, knowing how much power you hold over him.

when you arrive at the dinner, rafe is glued to your side, his hand resting on the small of your back, eyes scanning the room for anyone who might look at you for a second too long. every time someone tries to strike up a conversation with you, he’s right there, subtly inserting himself, reminding them that you’re taken. that you’re his.

you don’t mind. in fact, you love it.

later that night, after the event, you’re back in the suite, the moonlight casting shadows across the room. rafe’s sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you as you undress. his eyes are dark, filled with that same obsessive hunger you’ve come to crave.

“you looked amazing tonight,” he says, his voice low. “had to stop myself from punching that guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

you laugh, tossing your dress aside as you walk over to him. “you’re crazy, you know that?”

“only about you,” he murmurs, pulling you onto his lap. his hands roam your body possessively, and there’s something about the way he holds you that makes your heart race.

you know rafe’s obsession with you isn’t healthy in the conventional sense, but it’s everything you want. he’s your number one fan, your protector, your everything. and as long as he’s by your side, you know you’ll always be the center of his world.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0

[amywritesthings]

war of clarity. / levi ackerman x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day nine: soulmate au / day six: love at first sight)

pairing: captain levi ackerman x f!scout reader word count: 1.6k summary: They say finding your soulmate is like getting a migraine. When you've lived with chronic pain your whole life, the legends seem like a joke.

tags: soulmate au, love at first sight, mild language, reader has a chronic pain/illness condition, migraines/headaches credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

They say when you meet your soulmate, the pain is worse than a migraine.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting, blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white; then suddenly, clarity.

Funny enough, you’ve suffered through your entire life with ear-splitting headaches.

(Call it a cruel twist of fate.)

If this were the case — if being in pain from your earliest known memories in childhood all the way into enlisting in the cadets meant that you were playing the long game to experience the myth of finding The One — then you’d be quick to joke that everyone you’ve ever met could be your soulmate.

The girls in your bunk that offer to press a cold, wet rag to your forehead when the worst of your chronic illness hits — unlikely.

The boys failing at their ODM aptitude tests, where you zip by with flying colors — absolutely not.

You push—

Through training.

Through graduation.

Through choosing the Scouts, because for some reason it feels like the most noble option.

(The one that will make a difference, pushing past what’s beyond the Walls.)

So when you finally make it to the ranks, the emerald cloak draped across your taut shoulders like a badge of honor, you expect that continued dull ache in the base of your skull to follow you until your final days.

A comfort, really, to remind you that you’re still alive.

(If it’s quiet, then you’re probably dead.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  They call him Humanity’s Strongest.

That much you’ve heard through the grapevine; a man of unbelievable strength and resolve, an unstoppable myth in the very flesh. If there is anyone to strive towards, to look towards, it’s him. 

He’s resilient. Bold.

Lethal.

And you don’t care that he’s visiting your small squadron on the Special Operations in the early morning hours of this mundane Sunday, not when you’ve woken up with the most vile headache you’ve had in quite some time.

It takes all of the effort in the world to drag yourself out of your cot, breaking out in a cold sweat as you beg the pain to ease up a little.

The importance of this moment isn’t lost on you.

Special Ops is where you’ve hoped you’d end up.

After fighting tooth and nail to place within the top ten of your graduating class, you refuse to let your body win this fight.

Most of your squad has already scrambled outside, tripping over their knee-high boots and fastening worn leather in order to get a glimpse of Captain Levi.

You just barely make it out of the barracks in time for your visitor’s arrival, shrugging your tan cropped jacket over your shoulders with immense effort.

The sun.

(Why the fuck did it have to be sunny again?)

Nostrils flaring, you slowly make your way to the line-up of your comrades as they stand shoulders back, chins tall, to greet the incoming troop of horses.

“Attention!”

Your squad leader’s voice rings out, and you manage to step your way in line with the rest of your colleagues.

With considerable effort, you lift your chin and keep your eyes closed against the rays of the morning light.

Horses whinny as they come to a halt in the dehydrated earth beneath your boot.

Two or three octaves of grunts can be heard as the representatives from the Special Ops squad make their descent from their saddles.

A few minutes.

Just a few more minutes and you can return to the barracks where it’s cool, it’s darker, it’s—

“At ease,” a deeper, baritone voice rings out against your mental pep talk.

Bored, as if already disinterested in being here.

It forces your eyes to open, despite yourself.

White.

The sun seems blinding, like you’ve somehow lost your vision in the process of squeezing your eyes so tight — until the world returns.

When your eyes catch black fringe cascading over a gray, narrowed gaze, you let out an exhale you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your mind, oftentimes its own hurricane, eases to the eye of the storm.

And there is…

Nothing.

No pain in the base of your skull.

No sensitivity to the sun that beats down on the halved squad that has come to visit to discuss an upcoming mission that your squadron can assist with.

No jolting pain from a bird chirping, or the huffs of exertion exiting like clouds out of the horses’ mouths, or the murmured excitement from your colleagues that feel intimidating to be even near the man who turns on the heel of his boot to stare the six of you down.

It’s him.

It’s really him, that’s Captain Levi.

His bluish-gray eyes blink down the line of bodies willing to lay down their lives for the cause, acknowledging each person —

Until they find you.

You see it: the way his fist bunches against the leather reigns in his hand, how the muscles of his neck tense when his jaw clenches, the whites of his eyes growing as he stares.

Right. At. You.

Suddenly your stomach bottoms out, but not out of nausea — terror.

A rush of blood to the head so twisting—

No.

—blinding, that the colors of the world bleed together and bleach white—

It can’t be real.

—then suddenly—

The noise ceases.

All you can do is stare back.

.

.

— —

  Clarity.

— —

.

.

  The silence knocks you off your axis for the rest of the day.

Everyone is so much quieter than you anticipated.

What used to be deafening now sounds at a normal octave. 

Your colleagues aren’t boisterous, or inconsiderate, or even loud. 

They’re just a baseline of noise, a soundtrack to the soup you stare at in the mess hall without an appetite.

You even enjoy the dimly lit warmth of the lanterns surrounding the building where you sit alone.

The other five of your squad are bombarding a woman and a man — you think they’re called Petra and Oluo — about their adventures outside of the Walls.

You only realize someone is moving into your space when the wooden chair screeches against the floor of the hall, waking you from a trance.

When your chin lifts, you know who it is already.

You may know nothing about him, but your heart thrums like it does.

Like you’ve known him your whole life.

His jaw is set, expression in an eternal scowl as he drops down unceremoniously in front of you. You idle your hold on your spoon, no longer interested in swirling the utensil like you plan to take a bite.

It’s too much.

It’s so—

“You should eat.”

That honey-smooth voice breaks your thoughts. 

When he had first arrived in the courtyard on horseback, it was gruff. Devoid of emotion.

Now? It’s just under his breath, tickling your ears. Soft.

Concerned.

“Not really hungry,” you confess to the stranger — this Captain Levi — unable to look away.

You see his jaw tense before he inhales, slow and measured through his nose.

“If soup isn’t your ideal, then I can give you my share. Your leader went overboard with spoiling us.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah, shit’s annoying.”

You aren’t sure why you huff through your nose in amusement, but you do. The blunt curse takes you by surprise.

“Why’s it annoying to be offered the good food?” you ask without thinking.

“Because there’s no reason to give my squad special treatment,” he reasons shortly. “We’re all running into the same shitstorm no matter the rank.”

Oh.

So he’s admirable on top of his resilience.

Your heart feels like it’s growing on overdrive with each syllable, but you hold back anything beyond a bland smile in return.

Setting the spoon down, you let your palm rest against the wooden table’s surface.

Silence.

He’s still studying you like you’re a war plan, a strategy he has to conquer.

“I don’t understand,” he finally states out of the blue, baritone voice softer this time.

“What… don’t you understand, sir?”

“Don’t.”

The command causes your stomach to flip. Captain Levi’s shoulders deflate as he shakes his head.

“Don’t… use that, for me. Not when we—”

He cuts himself off, dropping his attention to your chin.

No.

Your lips.

“Not when we, what?” you ask after a pregnant pause, though you’re afraid to ask.

Visibly swallowing, the Captain shakes his head. “Thought maybe it was a myth.”

So he did feel it.

(An overwhelming flare that consumed the sun.)

“I thought it was, too,” you confess after some time, keeping the conversation quiet between the two of you. “I just — it never happened, for me. And I’m prone to migraines—”

“Migraines?” he repeats, eyes narrowing to temporary slits.

“Yeah,” you breathe humorlessly. “By legend, it meant that everyone was my soulmate.”

There.

Laid bare on the table between you, the word makes the confessional.

Two strangers with an invisible string, warring with the reality of clarity before them. You may not know this man, and he may not know you, but suddenly the only thing in your world that brings you peace is the sight of his face and the sound of his voice.

“But it was never them,” you add after a beat. “All my life, it was never them. The only person who ever broke through that haze was you.”

Yet Levi doesn’t flinch. 

All he does is nod, as if resigned to the idea, before reaching over for your hand. 

Wordlessly he picks it up from the table, uncurls your fingers, and places the spoon back in its center. For a minute he pauses, his thumb running along your knuckles as if to commit them to memory.

“Eat,” he urges like it’ll break him. “Eat, and tell me about yourself.”

.

authors note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in an hour as an exercise for Levi Month '24, so I hope you enjoyed my take on the soulmate au.

[hurtspideyparker]

Avengers Beach Day !

Tony is under a large beach umbrella, sat on a comfortable chair in bright red swim shorts and a flowy floral cover up. He has a large cooler with drinks, sandwiches and pickles. Also chips. Pepper is beside him reading a book about sustainability.

Natasha is in a simple black two piece swimsuit with large sunglasses, soaking in the sun.

"If anybody stares at my ass I will drown you and make sure your body never washes ashore," she warns as she lays out a towel and stretches out in the sun.

Peter and Thor are the first in the water, but only after Steve makes sure everyone has sunscreen on. "The water actually amplifies the harmful UV rays, so you should reapply in an hour. Don't worry, I'll remind you."

Peter and Clint tell Thor about chicken fighting, which delights him, and they are able to convince Steve to join so they can play. Peter sits on Thor's shoulders, and Clint on Steve's. It takes 4 rounds before Clint realizes Peter is cheating by sticking to Thor so he won't fall down. Peter and Thor switch places, but Thor still wins every time because well... muscles.

-

Bruce sets himself up on a blanket with a book but ends up falling asleep within twenty minutes. He sleeps for 2 hours and gets severely sunburnt.

-

Sam and Bucky sit down in two matching chairs a respectable distance apart, sunglasses on. Bucky is completely still for so long that Sam peeks over to see if he's asleep, his body casting a shadow over the soldier.

"Sam, I swear to god."

"Alright alright just checking, don't get your panties in a twist!"

-

Steve ends up floating around in the water peacefully, spread out like a starfish, while Clint and Peter show off their underwater handstand abilities to Thor. When Thor tries one for himself he ends up kicking Steve in the face. Peter and Clint can't stop laughing while Thor apologizes.

-

Natasha eventually joins the boys in the water, in which Clint begs her to play chicken with him because "all these guys are cheating super freaks!"

Natasha gets on Steve's shoulder and Clint on Thor's.

Natasha wins every round.

Clint grumpily complains about losing for the next half hour until he's distracted by food. (Tony makes fun of him for being such a loser on the ride home and Clint doesn't stop talking about how all his friends are freaks for the next 3 days).

-

Tony calls everyone in for some snacks and drinks, and Peter shakes his wet hair out all over Tony.

"Hey, hey! Watch where you shake that thing, I will hold your sandwich hostage!"

"You can't go to the beach and not get wet Mr. Stark, you're so spoiled. I barely talked you out of bringing that big ugly tent, it was practically a house."

"That's it. Thor, have another ham and cheese," he says as he tosses the sandwich to the god.

"No wait I take it back! Thor stop that's mine!"

-

Afterwards Peter finds a spot with damp sand to start building a castle.

"What are you, five?" Sam asks.

"Hey! I just found these old buckets on the shore and thought it would be fun."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that boy scout."

"Like you could do any better!"

They stare at each other for a moment.

"Imma 'bout to whoop your ass so hard kid," Sam says as he snatches a bucket from Peter and gets to work a few feet away.

-

Bruce rolls over in his sleep like a gas station hot dog. His other side gets sunburnt.

-

"Kid, I'm ready for a swim. Kid?"

"Not now Mr. Stark, I'm in a sand castle building competition!"

Tony stares down at the teenager with his wild curls covered in sand, filling up a neon pink bucket.

"... move over. Where's your moat? You can't expect to win without a moat."

"The water just absorbs back into the ground," Peter says with a frown.

"Hm. We need insulation. Go back into the water and get stones and kelp. And driftwood for the drawbridge. How much time do we have? Can I get my tools?"

"Hey!" Sam yells, "you can't have help! And definitely no genius engineering toolkit."

"Fine, no tools. But I'm allowed Mr. Stark! Just get someone to help you too," Peter replies as he runs off into the water.

"Son of a- Barnes! Get your ass over here! We need to teach this spiderling some manners."

-

"You should reapply your sunscreen," Steve says while hovering near Natasha lying on her towel.

"Touch me and lose your hand."

-

"Tony, the sun's going to set soon, let's go for a nice walk down the beach."

"Not now Pepper, I gotta finish this brickwork," he says with his face millimeters from the sand as he chisels.

"I wanna go for a romantic walk with my partner. The sunset doesn't wait for anyone, even you Tony Stark."

"Mhm, sure after I finish this battlement."

Pepper huffs.

"Whatever, I'll just go with Natasha."

-

"BRUCE, YOU DIDN'T REAPPLY!"

"Wuh- ow, OW OW OW OW OW OW-"

-

"Okay, times up!" Peter announces.

Tony, Bucky, Peter and Sam all stand up. They step back, scrutinizing each other's work.

"Well obviously ours is better. We have a functional drawbridge," Tony is the first to point out.

"You guys are such freaking nerds. Ours is prettier, and taller. Buck found these beautiful baby conch shells," Sam points out.

"We need judges. Thor!" Peter calls out.

-

"Let's stop here for a second, I need to buy some aloe vera," Natasha points out as she and Pepper pass by a small street of local shops near the beach front.

"Oh, are you feeling burned?"

"No it's for Bruce."

"Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him much today."

Natasha keeps her smirk to herself, purchasing the soothing lotion before heading back out to the street.

"Maybe on our way home we can get some ice cream," Natasha says as she points out the shop. "Bet Cap would like some butter pecan."

Pepper giggles.

-

"Ah, finally, Nat! We need a third judge for our sandcastle competition," Sam waves her over as she and Pepper rejoin the group.

"You have Bruce, Thor, and Steve, what do you need me for?"

"Steve is corrupted!" Peter chimes in.

"He's a partisan of the veteran best friends party. For all we know Bucky used his secret Cap knowledge to rig their castle to the ice pop's liking," Tony explains.

Peter sets his glare onto the man in question, "bet you just go crazy for conch, don't you Steve."

"I'd really rather not be apart of this conversation," Steve tells them.

Bucky turns to the women. "Thor voted for us, and Bruce voted for them. You're the tie-breaker Nat."

Natasha hands the bottle of lotion to Bruce who thanks her sheepishly as she steps up to the castles. She circles them slowly, ducking her head and taking in every crevice.

"Functional?" she asks, pointing at the drawbridge.

"Yes ma'am," Tony smirks.

She steps up to the opposing castle.

"You buy these?" she points to the sea shells adorning the castle.

Bucky lifts his chin, "nope, swam for em. All the work was my own, just short of evicting the previous tennants."

Natasha nods before stepping back.

"I've made my decision. The winner..." they all hold their breath, even Pepper and Steve who have no stakes in the the competition.

"Is Tony and Peter."

Cheers errupt, along with the very loud complaining of the two losers.

"Oh come on man! Ours is bigger, and prettier!" Sam protests.

"Oh really Sam? Is size all that matters? Stark's is functional. I don't know about you but I like a little personality beneath the pretty pretty decorations."

Peter pumps his fists in the air with a "woohoo!" before launching himself at Natasha in tight hug.

"I knew I liked you," Tony interjects as he joins the pair's hug, placing a kiss on both Natasha and Peter's temple.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the gesture and hides an affectionate smile.

"Yeah yeah," Natasha chimes, "let's get out of here so you can buy us ice cream."

-

"What are you gonna go for Rogers? Butter pecan?"

Natasha and Pepper snicker at Tony's comment as they collect their own ice creams from the worker; a chocolate peanut butter cone and a raspberry and lemon sorbet respectively.

"Tony..."

"No, no, I got this. Butterscotch? Rum raisin? Pistachio?"

"I'll have you know my taste buds are very modern. Peter showed me this Thai place and now I'm a regular."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Tony says while grabbing his coffee ice cream.

-

"Kid you're making it too easy. You are genuinely a freaking toddler," Sam says when he spots Peter licking a bubblegum ice cream cone.

"If having a personality is childish then it's no wonder you got cookies and cream, ahembasicbitch." Peter coughs the insult out.

"How dare you, you overgrown Little Tikes ad-"

-

Bucky licks his mint chocolate chip ice cream contentedly in the back of the shop while he watches the others fight.

"What do you think they're on about now?" Clint asks from his left.

Bucky glances at the bubblegum cone in the archer's hand.

"No clue."

-

"AHAHHHAAH"

"What! Vanilla is the best flavour!" Steve tries to argue, although Tony's own laughter rings louder than all other conversation in the room.

"M-modern taste buds AH haha-"

-

Bruce watches with awe and slight concern as Thor happily licks his 3 scoop tall rocky road contentedly.

"You hungry man?"

"Aye, I do enjoy the mallow."

Bruce watches the tower lean in every direction, almost falling several times and looking more dismal with every lick.

He almost says something, but Thor always angles the cone perfectly just in time to save it. Instead, he watches silently while scooping a spoonful of cookie dough from his cup.

-

It seems they got the rest of their bickering out at the shop, as with tired and heat-soaked limbs they pile onto the jet for the ride home.

Tony looks back like a mom driving a mini-van.

"The baby's asleep," he smirks at Pepper who looks back at Peter.

The teenager is dead asleep, mouth wide open and head resting on Natasha's shoulder. She glares when she catches Tony's eyes on the pair and he looks away, glancing at the other passengers.

"I could've sworn Bruce's whole schtick was green. Is he rebranding to red?"

Steve looks over at Tony with a shameful pout, "he forgot to reapply."

Tony quirks an eyebrow but doesn't comment, settling back to cuddle with Pepper.

"Mission success," he whispers into her hairline with a soft kiss.

[helioslover]

i kind of fell half in love (and you're to blame)

SUMMARY : charles and you are kind of best friends but the word doesn't seem really adequate. PAIRING : friends to lovers charles leclerc x sainz!reader WORD COUNT: 2.7k

Charles’ bed is so big you could easily get lost between the white linen sheets and yet, his body is so close to yours it almost seems like they’re just a bunch of arms and legs that doesn’t make a lot of sense. You like waking up this way. The sun is coming in through the window and from where you are, you can hear the waves crashing on rocks. 

You find comfort in these moments where you feel like the world has stopped turning and only belongs to the two of you.

You find pain in these moments where you truly understand what you're missing out on. 

By the look of it - your entangled legs, Charles’ arms surrounding your chest, your bodies so close it gets hard to distinguish where one stops and the other begins - one would think you are lovers. 

And you somehow wish you were. That way, there would be a reason for your heart to start pounding against your ribcage with the simple thought of Charles’ body encircling yours. That way, you wouldn’t feel so guilty having wet dreams about a friend. 

A friend . Yeah, you would settle on that. You would be Charles’ friend if that was what it took to have him around.

A friend that spends three nights a week having deep conversations, smoking and drinking on his balcony and then spends the night spooning in his bed.

A friend Charles has told things he’s never said out loud before without even thinking about it, like it all feels natural, like he wants - maybe even needs - you to know everything there is to know about him.

A friend Charles likes to kiss when he gets drunk, a friend he says pretty nasty things to, things you couldn’t have imagined coming out of such a pretty mouth, things that come back to haunt you whenever you let your mind wander. 

You slowly get out of Charles’ embrace, immediately missing the warmth of his large hands through the fabric of his navy shirt. Charles groans a bit but you know it’ll take him another fifteen minutes to fully emerge from sleep. 

The vision of Charles getting lost in the immensity of his bed - you still can’t figure out why he would buy such a big bed if he was supposed to sleep alone in it -, so unaware of anything, his face completely relaxed in a way it rarely is when he’s fully conscious ; there’s something in seeing him like that that makes your heart aches. 

You want this - waking up in Charles’ arms, having breakfast together, making fun of his tiny sleepy eyes and his swollen face - to be your daily morning routine. You want to get to kiss Charles good morning and good night. You want to stop repressing your smile in fear you look like an idiot in love because, as much as you hate it, you are an idiot in love and Charles coming up in the kitchen - you now knows it just as much as your own - asking you if you've had a good sleep, his voice still raw and his shorts fitting his thighs (oh so) perfectly isn’t going to help you get over it. 

A friend. The word echoes in your mind like an alarm blaring, grounding you back to Earth, to this kitchen you wish you could call yours. 

Yeah, a friend. You will settle for that. 

You’re holding a toddler in your arms, a little boy with big brown eyes that remind Charles of your very own irises, the typical Sainz chocolate orbs. Not that he’s taken every opportunity he could to observe every single detail that makes up your face. Whatever. 

You’re holding a toddler in your arms, smiling at him awkwardly, and Charles just knows from the look on your face that you have completely forgotten that you were supposed to go out to play tennis together.

“Shit. Charles. I-”

“You forgot, I know.” Charles laughs it off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.” 

You sigh. The kid is wriggling around in your arms, probably uncomfortable because of the horrible position you hold him in. “I swear, I was thinking about it but then Carlos was supposed to be on uncle duties but he had something urgent to deal with Williams and he asked - no, told me - to take care of him and left for God knows how long. I can’t understand how he gets to be the favorite uncle when he’s so irresponsible.”

Charles laughs. There’s always been competition between your brother and you and more often than not he has found himself arbitrating your silly fights. “Oh, so baby-sitting duties for you then ? Well, I’ll beat you next week, there’s no rush.” There’s a smirk on his lips as he finishes his sentence.

“Huh ?” You raise an eyebrow as you readjust your grip on the little body between your arms. “Charles, we all know you’re the one losing every single week. I swear to God it’s like you’re physically unable to win a set at this point.” 

The thing is you aren’t completely wrong. Charles doesn’t really know how it started but you have taken the habit of meeting up to play every Wednesday before heading back to his apartment where you cook together, have dinner, wine and cigarettes on his balcony, talk for hours and then fall asleep in his bed. He likes this routine so much that you now spend three nights a week with him. 

But it is true that it is physically hard for him to focus on the ball when he gets to see your body so clearly - the polos you wear make you look like you just came out of an old French movie, the ones that built the image of the femme fatale, and make something in Charles’ stomach twitch - and the way your tongue sticks out a bit when you get concentrated on beating him. Not that Charles sometimes imagines your tongue being used to do something else. Whatever.

“Okay, Nadal . We’ll see that next week. I’m going to let you handle your baby then. Text me if you need anything, alright ?” Charles picks up his bag. 

“Erm, actually, wait.” Your voice is almost pleading and there’s a shadow of distress in your eyes. “Could you… help me ? I’m not really good at…this.”

Charles refrains a laugh. “I’d figured.”

That’s how Charles finds himself spending his afternoon babysitting your nephew. He’s not a difficult kid - except for when he starts coloring the floor instead of the paper you’ve given him - which makes it quite easy for Charles to teach you the basics of surviving with a kid. He finds it funny to see you, for once, being so clueless and not as self-assured as you always like to appear. 

Turns out it’s not so different from your traditional Wednesdays : you cook - supposedly the worst mashed potatoes Charles has ever tasted -, avoid drinking or smoking but do talk a lot about your family and Charles feels somehow a bit envious that all of the Sainz kids got to grow up so happily. 

The kid starts feeling a bit more comfortable around this man he doesn’t know and it turns out that he’s a very curious little boy.

“Are you like…dating ?” he asks you at one point. He sticks out her tongue the exact same way you and Carlos do as he tries to draw something. 

Your eyes grow wide. “Oh no, not at all ! We’re just”, you mark a pause for half a second, “friends. Like your buddies from school, you know?”

Friends. Charles has a lot of friends and none of them compares to you. He’s never been so aching to see a friend before, never been so aware of a friend’s body before, never been so eager to (drunk) kiss a friend before. Not that Pierre told him that all these things did not fall into the friend category when he asked him about it. Whatever. 

Charles thinks about it later when you’re all sitting on the couch watching Cars - a movie that was supposed to put your nephew to sleep according to you but he’s fully awake, falling in love with Sally as Charles tangles his thick brown hair - while you are falling asleep on Charles’ shoulder. 

Friends . It just does not sit well with him. He wants all his Wednesdays to feel this way, with you falling asleep on his shoulders and a kid sitting on his lap - your kid. He wants failed mashed potatoes, pencil stains on the tiles and this feeling of finding a place where he perfectly belongs, where he’ll always belong. It all just feels like home.

Not that friends feel that way about each other. Whatever. 

You’re sleeping on the couch, your head slowly moving from time to time. You almost disappear under the gray blanket you wrapped yourself in even though it’s pretty hot. The TV is slowly buzzing as the story of a mediocre movie unfolds on the screen. 

You went out the night before, enjoying the time your friend Daniel was spending in Monaco to spend more time with him than you’ll get for the rest of the year. You came home watching the sun rise, drunk and high as a kite but happy. You’re now paying the price of refusing to drink the glass of water Charles had made you as you were about to get to sleep. 

Daniel is going to get married and as much as Charles is proud and delighted about this grand news, he also envies him. He’s slightly jealous of the way Daniel has found his person, the one he wants to share a lifetime with. Charles is twenty-six and the only person he has ever felt like sharing his life with is hungover, sleeping on his couch. Not that this is the kind of thing you’re supposed to feel about your friends. Whatever.

He slowly gets up from the couch and gets to his room where his keyboard is facing the window, the black and white piano tiles calling to him. As he lets his fingers run, the sound muffled to avoid waking you up, he thinks about the confused feelings that have been boiling in him for months now. 

He thinks about the fact that you are supposed to be friends even though he sometimes has this irrepressible urge to hug you, as if you were to vanish if Charles didn’t hold you tight, as if when he’ll wake up the next morning, you wouldn’t be here and there would just be an empty bed and his vacant heart. 

He thinks about the fact that you are supposed to be friends even though he finds the sparse nights you spend at your own apartment long and useless. What’s the use of being alone when he can be with the person he feels the most comfortable with ? 

He thinks about the fact that you are supposed to be friends even though Arthur and Lorenzo told him that there is something more, something they never sensed when they hung out with Charles and Pierre but that is flagrant whenever you’re around their brother. It’s like you’re speaking another language only you can understand and anyone who has the misfortune to be alone with you feels excluded, not because you mean to do so, but because you are so focused on one another that there is scarcely any room left for someone else. 

He thinks about the fact that you are supposed to be friends even though all their friends have been asking about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s been asking himself the same question and has no proper answer, he just knows that he doesn’t want things to go back to the way they were, when you were just one among all of his friends and not the most constant part of his life right now. 

Later, when he lets Pierre listen to the piece he wrote that day, his friend tells him that this is something that makes him feel like he’s falling in love and  there’s nothing that can be done against it, nothing except enjoying the ride and letting yourself engulf in it. When Charles tells him that it’s supposed to be about you, Pierre makes a strange face. Not that this is the kind of melody you write about your friends. Whatever.

You used to hate Sundays. You are a very worried person when it comes to your loved ones and Sundays always mean race days. Your brother always promises he’ll come home safe but you can’t help but feel like your heart might drop dead every second he spends on the track. 

Lately, over the summer break, your Sundays haven’t been the same. Charles always goes out jogging with his brothers, leaving you still half-asleep in his bed and kissing your temple before coming out of the bedroom you now share more often than not. When you finally get out of bed, you go out to the marketplace where you babble in French and Italian because you want to practice what Charles has been trying to teach you. 

You love the way you feel at home even when Charles is not there. You’ve practically moved into the apartment at this point. You cook breakfast for the two of you, singing along to the vinyls Charles has been collecting. The sun illuminates the kitchen, and when you leave the windows open, you can hear the humming of people coming out of church, on their way to share a meal with their families. 

The door opens and Charles enters, his forehead damp with sweat. You’re wearing the shorts you bought together when you visited Sebastian in Switzerland and one of Charles’ T-shirts that smells just like him. The flat smells of tortilla - the special recipe your grandfather taught you and Carlos when you were still infants - and coffee - that’s only for you, Charles drinks Oolong tea on Sundays. 

There’s something so domestic about these mornings - Charles coming home to you, taking a shower before you eat together and decide what you’re going to do for the day, you moving around as if it was your apartment, habits you have slipped into without even realizing it- that you sometimes feel like choking up, like your heart is beating up in your head. This is the type of life you imagine to be a happy one. This is the type of life you want. 

And yet, you settle for friends .  

“I talked to Lando, we’re eating at his place tonight. He asked after your infamous margherita so I bought you burrata. I know how much you love to put some on your pizzas.” you say when Charles comes out of the bathroom, his hair curling up a bit because of the humidity. 

“God, you’re so perfect. I’ll put that at the top of the list of reasons why I fell in love with you.”

There’s an instant of silence, both of you painfully aware of what Charles has just said. It takes a minute for you to completely understand the weight of these words, for the two of you that they mean something significantly more important than just thanking you for having bought burrata. 

Charles is looking at you from across the kitchen, the half-smile on his lips meaning to hide the wave of anxiousness you can perceive from where he is standing. Your eyes meet his emerald orbs, the world stops turning and you have  to force yourself to not kiss him right here and right now. 

But then, you decide not to care for once. You don’t want to settle for friends.You want more of this, You want it all. You’ve always been greedy, one of the characteristics that come from your dad and that you share with all your siblings. 

It feels like the three steps you have to make to reach Charles last for hours but then, when you’re finally in front of him, you can’t help but smile. Your lips gently brush Charles’s, before kissing him more fiercely. You can feel Charles’ body relaxing and for an instant, it almost feels like you belong here, like next to Charles is where you’re supposed to be. As you’re falling asleep next to Charles that night, the same way you’ve done a million times before, you think that you need to find a new word to describe your relationship. Friends doesn’t seem so appropriate now.

[acidinduceddaydreams]

First Real Love with Skz

Skz x reader who was in a toxic relationship before them

Synopsis: In which you experience love, the real kind, for the first time.

Warnings: major tw for trauma in terms of mental and physical violence done by a significant other. Please don’t read if this triggers you.

a/n : this fic was my baby for a long time. Now it’s yours, please look after it. I pray it brings some comfort to you!🫶🏼

Chan:

He feels honored that you choose him to be apart of your life.

Doesn’t pry too much when you bring up your past. If you want to tell him you will and he’s content with that.

He finds you so incredibly intoxicating. He can’t believe that someone would ever treat you badly. He would fight tooth and nail to make sure you’re always happy.

Literally so in love with your more childlike/ whimsical view of the world now that you two are together. Your personality definitely changed for the better once you met him and realized that being safe should be a prerequisite in a relationship.

Minho:

Doesn’t ask about your past relationship much. Mostly relies on you telling him about it when you feel comfortable enough.

Absolutely at your service!!! If you’re having particularly unpleasant or difficult feelings or are in your own head he’s at your beck and call. Whether that’s cooking for you, feeding you (which you won’t admit you like) or even leaving you alone for a bit.

The babies (his cats) are by your side 24/7 to ground you and get you out of your head because “ they wouldn’t want their mom to be sad.”

Changbin:

Cannot fathom the idea of someone hurting you in any way whatsoever without wanting to beat them up.

Unlike Minho, Changbin will not leave you alone if you’re having a particularly bad day. He thinks you’re so precious so he will never leave your side even in a particularly bad situation.

Binnie gives the best cuddles!!!! I am 100% convinced. Cuddling is a must! It’s like free therapy. (He, himself is free therapy but wbk) his hugs and cuddles make you forget about what’s going on in your head bc binnie’s cuddles make everything better.

Hyunjin:

He’s appalled that someone could treat another human with disrespect and violence let alone you!

He’s your number one fan in everything you do. Celebrates your small wins just as grandly as the big ones. Oh you ate breakfast today. Suddenly your name and “I’m so proud of you” is all he knows how to say.

Paints with you. Yk when you put the canvases parallel to each other and paint something for the other person. Yeah you guys do that all the time as a grounding technique but also just as a way to show love to one another.

Jisung:

He’s so good at reading body language!!!!!! He is absolutely crushed when things like holding your hand or stretching his hand out to touch your cheek make you flinch, not because he’s mad or angry at you but rather at the person who ever dared to treat you this way.

Wdym personal space? Hannie’s never heard of it. He’s so good at getting you out of you head. He knows what triggers you and sometimes know when something will trigger you before you do.

He’s so attentive bc why wouldn’t he be when he has you to look after. This boy loves you so much and he shows it every day.

Felix:

Bakes for you!!!!!! Sometimes you two bake together but he usually does it in advance to you telling him you need a little extra love today.

So in love with you. Tries to show you the beauty that you are because you haven’t felt beautiful till you met him. “Oh baby you look even more gorgeous than you did yesterday, I didn’t even know that was possible.”

You remind him of sunshine and he reminds you of the sun. Clearly neither of you can exist without the other.

Seungmin:

He is super playful and witty naturally but he tones down the more mocking side for your particularly hard days. He loves you in ways that you didn’t know you could be loved.

On regular days though you two share a similar sense of humor. He loves that about you. Never lets it go too far though.

Absolutely a sucker for you. The boys tease him for being soft for you but he doesn’t care. You’re his baby and he doesn’t care who sees that.

Jeongin:

This boy is so whipped for you. He always listens to you even if what you have to say is something he has no idea about. It feels so amazing to have someone listen to you. To truly listen. He makes it look easy even though listening and not interrupting is quite hard.

He’s not a big fan of skinship but your hands are always within his and he loves it. He’s genuinely so feral for it but you don’t need to know that.

He’ll make sure to show you how someone treats someone they love every day. He’s so attentive and that makes going to him whether it’s with a problem or just to talk so easy because you know there’s no judgment from him.

[wonderlandwalker]

Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.

Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos

This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.

Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.

But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.

The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.

“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.

“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.

He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.

“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.

"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.

"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.

He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.

“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.

He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.

Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.

It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after

Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.

“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.

“Go back where?”

“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”

“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.

“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”

The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.

When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.

“Where?” She asked him

“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.

“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.

“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”

“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”

“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”

“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?

“They’re at the swamp”

“How are you so sure?”

“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”

“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.

“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.

“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”

“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.

While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.

He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.

“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.

“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”

And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.

“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.

“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”

“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.

“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.

He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.

He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’

It was far too late for that.

When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.

“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.

Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.

“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.

But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.

He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.

He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.

When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.

“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.

“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.

“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.

“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.

“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.

“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.

“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”

“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”

Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.

“Goddamnit”

You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.

“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.

You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.

After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.

[szasfuckingwife]

SOUNDGASM

RICHBOY!EREN YEAGER x RICHGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, Eren calls reader a slut and whore, swearing, Eren is a secret fuck boy, reader has she/her pronouns, no mention of reader’s appearance other than what she’s wearing

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is new to Marley, just moving a few months prior. Her parents are rich doctors and she wants to be a professional golfer. At the country club, Grisha Yeager introduces his son, Eren Yeager to her. As she teach him how to improve his golfing, Eren teaches her one or two new things..

A/N: it’s finally summer time, and this summer me and my friends are going golfing🤭 i hope i find my eren + soundgasm is such a summer song, reminds me of 2016 drake for some reason

It’s 1:25pm at the country club. The sun is shining, the grass was greener than the pockets of the people there. And, above all, a pretty brunette and a pretty blonde are in that field playing a good game of golf.

Eren has his club in hand, his eyes are on the ball. Noticing that he won’t get a good swing from that distance, he scoots himself back a few steps until he finally feels comfortable. His veiny hands latch onto the club a little tighter as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna hit the ball or…?” Armin is tired of waiting. He’s been waiting for his best friend ever since kindergarten. Eren had to stay behind a grade? Armin was waiting. Eren had detention? Armin was waiting.

But waiting for his best friend to hit a stupid ball was so damn infuriating.

Suddenly, Eren’s club went sky high before he hit the ball, sending the white sphere flying over the sky. The green eyed boy whistled in satisfaction; he was getting better each day.

Eren turned to his friend with a smug look on his face, “See! You want perfection? Be patient.”

Armin rolled his eyes before the two heard the familiar voice of Grisha Yeager, Eren’s father and the CFO of a tech company.

“Boys! Get in, drinks are out!” He yelled, waving his hand to grab their attention but all they could see was the bling of his Rolex. “Oh, and son? Getting better!”

Eren smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

“Not better than me though.”

This was your first time at this country club since your parents moved states. Not only was it awkward as most of the girls your age played tennis instead of golf, but all the guys who played golf were…facially challenged.

“Sweetheart, smile.” Your mother spoke through gritted teeth. She had noticed your unusual (but expected) awkwardness even when you were driving to the club.

You looked at her before sighing deeply, “Everyone here is just…weird.”

“The girls play tennis. You know how to play, why don’t you join them?”

Oh yeah, join the girls that laughed when they saw my personalised club!

If anything, you wished your mother would stop trying to get you to have fun so much, because all it did was remind you how much fun you were missing out on back home. It was heartbreaking to say bye to genuine friends and say hello to well…the plastics.

“Y/N!”, You heard your father’s voice and instantly turned around to spot him. He waved you over, looking eager and excited.

“Why is he so happy? I’m scared..” You mutter at your mother. She laughs and pushed you to his direction.

You try not to draw as much attention to yourself as you walk despite your very loud father yelling your name. Upon arrival, you see Mr Yeager, your fathers new friend.

He’s also the man that prompted the idea to move states.

Your father enthusiastically put his arm over your shoulder, “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

You stick your hand out to shake Mr Yeager’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Nice to meet you too. Your father tells me that you’re applying to U of M. What’s got you so interested in Marley?”

If you wanted to be frank, and boastful, you’d tell him that you didn’t apply but rather you got a scholarship. Whether it was nepotism because it was your dads alma matter or if it was your big brain and athleticism, it was the best offer you’ve gotten.

“I heard they do good Neurology courses. I wanted to go to university and well, to put it short, make sure I have a plan B.”, You reply, smiling sweetly at both your father and Mr Yeager.

Grisha nods in acknowledgment, giving you back the same smile, “What’s your plan A then?”

“Professional golf, of course.”

It sounds boring, but golf was one of those hobbies that just never went away. You remember when you were 9, going with your father to the golf course just to see what it was like. When your dad taught you how to hit the ball, you loved it.

As you grew older, hitting the golf ball became your outlet. Like that one time you imagined that it was your teachers head instead of the ball after she gave you a C in a test.

Where others prefer an ice rink or a race track, you prefer your club and the nice smell of freshly cut grass.

“Y/N reminds me of Jordan in ‘88 but instead of a basketball court, it’s a golf course.”, embarrassment filled your body as your dad bragged about you. All you could do was laugh at his strange comparison.

“Ah, my boy does some golf in his spare time. He’s not trying to go pro, I hope, but, he could definitely use some lessons from you if you’re that good. In fact…” He looks around, squinting his eyes. “Eren!”

Right then and there, you pray with every bone in your body that this ‘Eren’ wasn’t those boys you saw earlier. God knows what you’d do to avoid teaching them a single thing.

What came, however, was a surprise. And the surprise came in the form of a boy. Not too old, maybe nineteen. He wore navy shorts and an emerald green ralph lauren vest over a plain white tee.

His hair was gelled in a small bun in the back of head. You don’t mind though, since it gave you a better view of his chiselled jawline. You’re sure it could cut your mothers diamonds at home. His eyes were green. No brighter than the grass outside, no deeper than the vest he was dressed in but some odd mixture.

He’s hot, you thought.

Grisha out a firm hand on his sons shoulder as he introduced you and your father to him, “This is my second son, Eren. You’ve already met Zeke by the tennis court.”

As your father gets into another conversation about Zeke Yeager, all you can do is stare at the curve of his younger brother’s muscles. You wish that he lifted the sleeve of his t shirt ever so slightly-

“What’s your name?”

You looked at Eren, and he looked at you.

His smile was just so…genuine!

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled sweetly back at him.

After your fathers urged you to go outside, you find yourself next to Eren on the kart. He’s driving, riding across the beautiful field.

The sky is honey coloured, the sun slowly descends giving the lake a beautiful shimmer. You’d look at that view, but there’s already a good view next to you.

Eren finally stops the kart before exiting. The both of you get your equipment from the back of the kart and begin to play.

“So…uhh how do you like it here in Marley?” Eren says, grunting after he hits the ball. You stand there, semi criticising his swing, semi fawning over him. “It’s definitely different from Trost.”

You sigh, “Yeah, the air is a little different. And not too many people play golf here.”

Eren looks at you, chuckling whilst shaking his head a little, “Aren’t you glad you met me then?”

You have no idea how glad I am.

You stay silent, instead choosing to smile and getting ready to hit the ball. Eren whistles when he sees the height of your swing. “Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

After a couple more swings (and misses from Eren), you guys sit in the kart.

“So, where are you applying for university?”, you ask looking up at him. He scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

“No clue. All these offers and all I really want to do is go to Malta ‘n relax.” You notice how careless his face is when he speaks. He must not care that much about his future.

I mean, his parents are rich enough that both him and his brother can live off them for as long as they want to.

You look down, not in embarrassment, but in awkwardness. It’s strange seeing parents not urge their kids to go to university like your parents and Trost parents do.

“What’s your plans?”

You explain how you want to become a pro at golf. Eren listens attentively but, he get’s distracted when the breeze washes over the both of you.

The hem of your sport skirts lift up ever so slightly and Eren’s heart begins to race. For the next few conversations, he can’t stay focused. I mean, he’s just seen the curve of your ass, who could?

As the conversations die down, you and Eren go back to playing golf. It’s Eren’s turn and if he’s lucky, he can get a hole in one. He does what he did earlier: pull his hips back slightly, legs apart, breathe and…

Eren swung and you swore you saw the ball fly into the stratosphere.

“Yeager, I didn’t know you were the athlete.” You chuckle, shocked that he was actually really good.

He shrugs, “I don’t try. I feel like it just comes naturally..”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, pointing the end of your personalised club at him, “Teach me?”

Eren licks his lips, trying to find the words to speak but, the look that you’re giving him makes him feel butterflies. “Yeah…come ‘ere..”

You begin with your starting position, y’know the position that has won you regional competitions and a 2nd place in national.

However, you hear Eren scoff. “Don’t know how you’ve been able to pull of holes in one with that position..”

Suddenly, you feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand up slightly to your upper chest, brushing agains your boobs.

“I don’t want this to be awkward but can you move your hips back ever so slightly..?” Eren chuckles in embarrassment. You do as he says and move your hips back until you feel his crotch against you. “Now, practice your swing without the club…”

Eren was filled with glee as he felt your ass rub up against him while you practiced your swing. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect…So fuckin good..”

Your brows furrow and then you finally feel it. His hard cock almost bursting out of his shorts. You didn’t stop your movements, seeing the fun in making him more distracted. He was absolutely mesmerised seeing your ass go back ‘n forth on his crotch.

Suddenly, you stop, sighing with your lips tilted up into a smirk, “I feel like I’m ready now! Thanks for the hel-”

As soon as you tried to walk away, Eren pulled you back against him. You swore you heard his heart beating a thousand times per second, and his cock was still rock hard.

“I can show you a couple more tips.” He whispered in your ear, “Just gotta listen for me, yeah?”

You nod before Eren throws your club onto the ground and pulls you into the kart.

As soon as you both sneak into the lavish looking bathroom, his lips are on yours. Hungrily making out with you, not giving you a chance to breathe. He gingerly moves you against the wall, giving you more breathless kisses.

He feverishly pulls up your lilac polo top, exposing your stomach and sports bra. Nothing comes to mind as he starts to plant wet kisses along your collarbone.

You try to fondle with his dick through his shorts but Eren wouldn’t let you, deciding he wants to make you feel good before he does.

He sits you on the white, pristine counter, pulling off your shorts in the process. “Fuck, you’re so hot…”, he says in a shushed tone. You can’t help but moan when you feel his hands on you, especially when he begins to rub your clit under your panties.

He starts of slow, achingly slow. All you want is for him to ruin you, rough and hard. But Eren is a tease, he wants you to beg for him.

And, he won’t stop till you do.

Eren feels your slick on his fingers and begins to chuckle. You look so cute like this: a whimpering mess, bucking your hips against his hand. He smirks when he hears you mew small ‘Please, Eren’s and ‘it feels s’ good!’s

“You’re such a pretty girl, huh? You’re doing so- ha- so good for me.” He grins. You see him lower himself, peeling of your panties so he’s at face level with your wet pussy. “What do you want, baby?”

You looked at him with jaded eyes, “I wanna cum..”

He shakes his head, tutting. He looked so different to that sweet boy who cheered you on at the golf course. “Manners, princess. What do you want?”

As he repeats his question, he slides a finger inside you. You moan and it sounds like beautiful to the brunette. You try to regain your voice as he stares into your eyes, blankly as if he was bored.

“I want you to make me cum, please.”

He chuckles again before letting his lips meet with your pussy. Eren takes his time with you, you’re not one of those valley girls that he’s fucked dumb in the past.

You’re different, so why should he treat you like them?

Nothing could be heard in the bathroom but your moans and the sound of your wetness against Eren’s mouth. He lapped his tongue at your clit whilst he continued to fuck you with his fingers, smiling against your sex when your fingers rip through his locks.

“Taste…so good, Y/N…” He muttered. You were so so close, wanting nothing more but to make a mess all over his mouth. Eren knows, he can feel you tightening up. “Gonna cum?”

You nod quickly but just then, he stops.

“Eren-” “Shhh, turn around, show me that ass..”

You do as he says, bending over the desks as he marvels at the curve of your ass behind you. You feel Eren strike your flesh a couple of times in awe before he slides his huge dick inside you.

He groans beside your ear as he hears you gasp, “Oh my fuckk…”

Every stroke feels like he was going deeper, kissing your cervix. His hands traveled to your chest as he lifted the bra revealing your perfect tits. You moan louder as he pounces on your neck again, kissing and biting you whilst his fingers were busy playing with your boobs.

“You knew what you were doing when I was teaching you how to swing, hm?” He chuckles. When he sees you nod, Eren slaps your ass again. “Words.”

“Yes!” you cry.

“You knew that it’d end up with you like this, right? You wanted this.” He asks, earning another ‘yes’ in response. “None of your boyfriends at Trost fucked you like this.”

“N-no! No, they didn’t! Fuck!” You moan. He tilts your head so you can look at the mirror and you finally see Eren, topless. You don’t know when he took of his top, and you were too fucked out to realise. “Shit, you’re so deep in me..”

He smiles at your comment, slapping your ass once more, “I know, sweetheart. Look at you. You pretend to- fuck- be a good girl in front of everyone but now look at you.”

You feel his hand wrapped around your throat as he pulls you back. Eren’s cheek is against yours as you both look at yourself through the mirror. Now, he’s fucking you harder than he did before. Harder and faster.

“You’re such a slut, hm?” He kisses your cheek before speeding up his thrusts. Your moans are louder than ever as he continues to ruin you.

“‘s too big!” It’s scary how croaky your voice sounds. He kisses your crown before leaning your head back and forcing your mouth open with his fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.”

And after you did so, a glob of spit fell from Eren’s lips and landed on your tongue. “Good fuckin’ girl! You close?”

Mistakenly, you nod again earning another harsh smack on your ass. “Yes, I’m close!”

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?!” He asks, his thrusts are amazingly fast and Eren’s lips are on your neck again.

The sight of him makes you cum alone, sweaty forehead that makes his hair curl upwards, his toned body and veiny hands gripping onto your waist and his green eyes boring into yours.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you cry out. When you reach your climax, Eren doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. Your whole body shakes in his touch as he whispers the most filthy things in your ear.

“This pussys fuckin’ mine now, you hear me? I’m gonna be the one that makes you a slutty mess. You’re gonna come to me when your horny, yeah? Anytime, baby, just say the word and I won’t wait to fuck you like the whore you are.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, you nod again, your voice is too broken to respond.

He pulls out and grabs you, forcing you onto your knees. Immediately, you let Eren put his thick cock in your mouth, fucking your face just as quickly as he fucked your pussy.

You feel his thrusts get sloppier as you finally see the white ropes of cum shoot out of his cock onto your face. He groans out so many expletives but you’re too busy finishing him off to hear, making him shake at your mouth still sucking him.

Once he’s done reaching his climax, the two of you look at each other for a moment before laughing. You both look a mess, Eren with his mouth red from kissing you so hard and sweaty from…well, fucking you.

You look like a real pornstar, Eren thinks. If it wasn’t for you very obvious ambition in golfing, Eren thinks you’d make a great model.

“We need to get back…” You whisper, “They’re gonna kill us since we left all of the equipment there.”

You stand up and reach down to get your clothes, he helps you dress and dresses himself. Eren takes a tissue and wets it with water before cleaning his cum off your face.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in the kart. And after that, I’ll fuck you on the field.” He whispers, causing you to giggle.

[unabashegirl]

Different 7 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hiii, here is a new chapter. I hope you enjoy.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all 25 chapters, various one shots and much more :)

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She watched him as he lay beside her, his arm securely placed over her waist, holding her close. His eyes were tightly shut, his mouth slightly open, and his expression relaxed. She reached over and raised the blinds a bit to see better while making sure the sun didn’t wake him. Leaning in, she kissed his nose softly before carefully sliding out of bed.

Y/N brushed her teeth, ran her fingers through her hair, then washed her face before heading downstairs. She prepared some coffee for everyone, knowing they would need it.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled at Sarah, who was trying to figure out how to start the coffee machine. Sarah turned around, smiling sheepishly at Y/N, a bit embarrassed.

“Need some help?” Y/N giggled, offering a hand.

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled as she leaned back against the counter while Y/N took out almond milk and regular milk from the fridge.

“How’d you sleep?” Y/N asked as she struggled to pour the coffee beans without spilling them.

“Good,” Sarah blushed. “The bed was really comfy,” she nodded repeatedly, trying to convince her.

“You mean Mitch was comfy?” Y/N teased, causing Sarah’s eyes to widen and her cheeks to turn pink, reminding her of Harry.

“How did you know?” Sarah giggled, shaking her head, surprised that Y/N had noticed and hadn’t said anything before, especially with the boys around. Sarah liked that.

“It was easy. The way you both acted around each other. I just figured,” Y/N shrugged as she walked to the pantry. “Would you like something to eat? Eggs, avocado toast, oatmeal, cereal, fruit salad?” she offered as she looked through.

“Whatever you’re having,” Sarah replied, and Y/N nodded, taking out a few avocados and a loaf of bread.

“How was Harry?” Sarah asked, making Y/N instantly gloat. Y/N started preparing everything while Sarah sat on one of the stools on the other side of the island.

“He was good,” Y/N smiled, remembering yesterday’s events and replaying them in her mind. She nodded back and began helping Y/N make the food.

“Do you want to sit outside?” Y/N asked as she noticed how beautiful the day was.

“Yes, it looked great out there.” After the food was ready, they carried it outside and sat at a table beside the pool. Y/N could still remember her mom purposely asking the decorator for a small table outside just so they could enjoy the nice weather when given the chance.

“Do you really like Harry?” Sarah asked bluntly as she took a sip of her coffee.

“I do. I really do,” Y/N answered, then took a bite of her toast. “It’s not that hard to do so.” She took another sip of coffee to wash down the food before leaning back in her seat. “He’s just so different, so gentle, so sweet, and so carefree. I feel so comfortable around him. I find it easy to talk to him about anything, whether its about my parents or my feelings.” Y/N tore her gaze from the sky to meet Sarah’s.

“I guess I’m asking because you’re so out of his league, you know?” Sarah said. There it was again—the constant need to categorize people based on their appearance.

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem,” Y/N explained before continuing to eat and enjoy her breakfast.

“What do you mean?” Sarah questioned, finishing her breakfast and now just drinking her cappuccino.

“Do you see this apartment? I’m sure you noticed the smiling family portraits on the wall by the entrance” Y/N cleaned the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Yet, this family is broken” She smiled. “We might be wealthy, but our family relationships and dinamics are toxic. Everyone was too engulfed in their self's interests, traveling and shopping.” Y/N shrugged as she took her last bite. “I'm thankful for all the opportunities my parents’ hard work have provided me, but I miss the simple things—like coming home to my mother, seeing my dad arrive from work every day, and having dinner as a family.”

“You’re right. We all have different types of problems,” Sarah said, nodding as they looked at the horizon and enjoyed each other’s company, the cold fresh air, and the silence. It was one of those autumn afternoons when the sun shone brightly enough to feel it burn against your skin, but it was windy and cool.

“Hey,” they heard the door from the backyard slide open, and Harry walked out with sleepy eyes, messy hair, and a confused expression across his face. “How long have you two been up?” he asked with a rough, groggy voice as he made his way outside.

“Just a few minutes,” Sarah answered as she leaned back in her chair and waved at him. He walked up to Y/N, leaned down, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the side of her head. It was innocent and soft but sweet.

“Are you cold?” he whispered, running his hands over her bare forearms. She shook her head and unwrapped herself from him.

“Would you like some breakfast?” she asked as she stood up in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his torso and kissed his chin. “Morning,” she added. He smiled and shook his head before leaning down and kissing her. Sarah coughed, and they pulled away. Harry hid his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck while they giggled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin. Sarah was laughing softly and shaking her head.

“I get it now. She’s hot and has a brain,” Sarah shrugged, getting up from her seat. “I’m going to check on the others,” she excused herself and headed inside, leaving the two of them alone.

“I thought you had left,” Harry said as he sat down on the seat Y/N had previously occupied. Y/N slowly sat down sideways on his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck while holding her cup with the other. "I thought it had all been a dream".

“I was just hungry, and I needed some coffee. Would you like some?” she offered as she gently pulled on his hair.

“I'm not a big fan” Harry replied, and Y/N frowned and nodded. “I’m more of a tea guy. So, how is this going to work?” he asked while holding her by the waist. “I mean, us. How were we going to see each other?”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll see each other. I’ll make sure of it,” Y/N said, with a few ideas forming in her mind, though she wasn’t planning to share them yet. She wanted it to be a surprise. Harry only nodded and leaned in for another kiss, which Y/N gladly returned.

After a brief make-out session, they walked back inside where everyone was waiting for them.

“How did you guys sleep?” Y/N asked as she washed her plate and Sarah’s, placing them in the dishwasher.

“You’ve got really comfy beds,” Jeff smiled as he sat down on the last stool. “What are we doing now? I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Liam agreed, lifting his head from the counter. Y/N looked over at Harry, who was leaning against the counter and yawning.

“We could order in,” Sarah suggested as she poured herself another cup of coffee.

“We could watch a movie too,” Y/N agreed. “It’s time for lunch anyway.” They all nodded and started debating what to eat and from where. They finally settled on Taco Bell and made the order.

“I’m going to head upstairs and take a shower,” Y/N told them as they all made their way into the living room. “There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourselves,” she smiled before running up the stairs. She decided to take a quick shower, then blow-dried her hair. She settled on a burnt orange shirt, some mom jeans, and a belt. She decided to just moisturize her face and skip makeup before heading down.

Harry was sitting in the corner of the couch, curled up in a little ball. As soon as he noticed her, he sat up and reached out for her. She maneuvered her way through everyone and turned on the fireplace, noticing everyone cuddling up.

“Oh man, can this get any better?” Mitch said as he tucked his arms behind his head. Liam laughed, and so did Jeff.

“Don’t get used to it,” Mitch commented as he cuddled closer to Sarah.

Y/N sat beside Harry and leaned over to pull the blankets out of a basket. She tossed one to Sarah and Liam so everyone could share. She took one for herself and Harry and spread it over their bodies.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, pulling her closer to him. Y/N smiled and pecked his lips before turning her attention back to the TV.

They were halfway through the movie when the food arrived. The boys ate, and then they decided it was finally time for everyone to go home since they all had classes the next day. Y/N insisted on taking Harry home, which he eventually agreed to after much convincing.

“What are you doing after class tomorrow?” she asked as she drove across town, holding his hand tightly, resting them on her lap.

“Nothing much. I thought I might just catch up on homework and study,” he replied. Y/N hummed back, realizing she was going back to an empty apartment. It had been nice having everyone over.

“Do you have practice?” he asked, dragging her out of her deep thoughts.

“I do. We have another game on Wednesday. It’s going to be a tough one,” Y/N said, still remembering Coach Mary’s pep talk on Friday. She had yelled at them for the entire three-hour practice.

“I’m sure you guys will do great,” Harry commented as he looked through his phone. Y/N agreed as she finally pulled up to his street. She stopped the car right in front of his door, as usual. He unbuckled himself and leaned over the console.

“I don’t want you to go,” Harry said, causing Y/N to smile as butterflies filled her stomach. She suddenly felt like she was in fourth grade.

“Me neither,” Y/N whispered as she brushed her lips against his. He smiled one last time before kissing her. They kissed for a few minutes until she finally pulled away.

“Go,” she pecked his lips once more before he opened the door and got out.

Y/N sat in the car for a few minutes until she saw him enter the dorm. But just before she could start the car again, Harry ran out.

“My parents are here. They came to visit,” he exhaled loudly. “My mom wanted me to ask if you’d like to have coffee and dessert with us,” he stuttered, fiddling with his hands and looking incredibly nervous about what she might say. “I—I know it’s very soon, but they would like to meet you,” he added. “You don’t have to, though.”

“Can I park here?” she asked, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous about meeting his parents. They had only spent time together a few times, but she was willing to meet them.

“Yes,” he exhaled, relieved that she had agreed. Y/N turned off the car and got out, thankful that she had dressed appropriately.

[jolalibrary]

sunrise

francisco morales x santiago garcia

GIF credit to @perotovar

summary: after mixed messages, pope asks frankie if he'll watch the sunrise with him.

wordcount: 1.1k warnings: none. jo doing jo things with words. just two boys, mixed messages and a bit of hope. an: happy pride. this fic is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful @perotovar who not only is a great friend, but also has never made me feel like i'm not part of pride. it's been a long time since I've written m/m, but erin, your kind words (and gif) filled me with joy. i hope this fills you with joy too.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz���

He doesn’t need to look, to smack his hand around the bedside table, Frankie knows where his phone is.

Retrieving it, pressing it to his ear—old sleep crusting in his eyes—Frankie lets out a soft groan, the weight of lingering thoughts still pushing heavily against his mind. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbles a tender hello, his voice heavy, gruff.

“Hey,” Pope says.

It elongates, stretches out like a fragile thread suspended between them—as though another word should have followed but isn’t spoken.

“You awake?”

“Am now.”

He doesn’t miss the chuckle that’s embedded into the breath. Nor, how it brushes down and through the phone. A sensation bubbling across his skin, his body remembering how it feels to have it against him.

“You’ve not been replying—in the group chat.”

He rubs his face, the motion all a hopeless attempt to awaken his mind, wishing the act would spur on words. Something. Anything to bridge the aching void between them.

It doesn’t.

It just adds to the other things churning inside him, layering over doubts and questions—the ones that linger unanswered, even when they are alone, haunting the spaces between their moments together.

Sliding the phone back against his cheek, he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Just… wasn’t checking things.”

“Yeah, thought so.”

He hums, and then releases a heavy breath. Needing to fill the silence before it begins. Not wanting to find out if today it’s comfortable or the opposite.

“You busy?”

“At 3 in the morning?”

Pope laughs—and Frankie hates how much he likes the sound. Despises it, almost. Loathes it, like he detests how he feels.

“Didn’t know if you wanted to watch the sunrise with me.”

“I’m a whole flight from you, Pope.”

“Don’t have to be in the same location to watch the sun come up, Fish.”

“We fuckin’ do if it comes up at different times, cabrón.”

There’s a pause, then a chuckle. One that begins with Pope and then ends with him. It fills the air, the space, the area between them that they pretend not to notice or ask about whenever they come home.

Because home isn’t out there, where they’re adorned in layers that barrier against artillery and threats; home isn’t where they help the other free from it all in the comfort of a base room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Home is real. It’s chosen paint on the walls and picked out bedding; it’s photographs filled with only the best and souvenirs that remind of good times.

And, right now, the only evidence of Pope here is the memories—

That first kiss. How fuelled it had been, how he’d done it purely to stop the tide of ifs and buts that Pope had been flinging, angrily darting in the hope to hit the bullseye and wound him further than his foolishness had.

And it’s not that Frankie wishes to hang up, it isn’t that he hopes to shove things further into his soul. He’s had his crisis—had it when he’d had Pope pressed against his spine, breath fanning out over his neck, making the hair curled from their earlier activities twitch and tickle.

But, he’s at least come to terms with the fact this isn’t a home thing. A thing which doesn’t exist when he steps on the plane to go back to a life where people call him Francisco. He’s made his peace with it, accepted it—as much as a person can.

He’s done the work to rationalise and reason. So, whatever this phone call is, it feels counterproductive. It feels like sinking, falling through those steps and nets he’s built until he’s drenched in the will-they-won’t-they he’s clambered far away from. The hopes seep into his skin, worming into his brain, threatening to paint shadows on the back of his eyelids at what the two of them could be—

“What are we doing, Pope?”

There’s an exhale. It’s likely a sigh, but it’s hard to assess without the facial expression. The way he wears his feelings in his body language.

“I‘m not sure.”

Frankie expects that, somehow. Yet it still stings, hurts—ripples out like a lashing he’s braced for. Rolling onto his side, he grinds his jaw. Staring at the gap in the curtains, the one that’ll allow light to bleed through in a few more hours, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head.

“I can’t watch the sunrise with you.”

“‘Cause of the time difference?”

Rolling his eyes, he blows out a harsh breath. “No. Because if we do, I’ll confess something that’ll make it hard for you to do that compartmentalising shit that you do about the fact you and I fuck.”

The silence that follows is painful, excruciating. It’s devoid and barren, dull and full of nothing. There’s no background noise to drown it out, the night too quiet, the hour too dormant—to the point it almost makes Frankie feel guilty for disturbing it.

“What if I told you I’m at the motel on 22nd—”

Frankie sits up. Bolt upright. The suddenness of it forces the sheet to fall from his neck to pool at his waist, the air cool flurrying over warm skin, heat blooming in his cheeks.

“—the one you talked about—”

His heart hammers. Pounds.

“—the one you go to when home is a bit too… home.”

“Pope…”

“Fish.”

Swinging his legs from under the sheets, elbow resting on the place above his knee, hand wiping down his face, awake, blood pounding in his ears.

“Por favor no bromees.”

Sighing, blowing it right into his ear. It’s far more soothing, rooting, than it has been before.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me, Fish?”

Swallowing, fear threatens to poison the joy that is trying to fill his chest. His hand clamps around his knee for leverage, for strength. Squeezing, likely making his skin paler—it returning to colour when he releases as he tries to get his brain to calculate the percentage of how much of a good idea this is.

But then he hears his name. It whispered, with more of an infliction, a question to it.

And so he takes a breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… get dressed now.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

A silence unfurls, one nicer, more bearable than any of the others before—

“Well hurry then, Fish.”

And then, as Frankie suspected, Pope ends the call.

tagging: @morallyinept (for your collection)

[doomssoiree]

DAYDREAM SERIES(txt ver.)

❤︎ ────living through five daydreams with five dreamy boys.

daydream one has been delivered…

DREAM #1:

(수빈)soobin. hold me down.

TROPE: office romance, boss + assistant, co-workers to lovers

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, slice of life

I was wondering, could you hold me down?

── SOOBIN BEGINS to realize he has more than a tiny infatuation for you after you take care of him and his morning hangover, prompting him to visit unannounced in the evening to sort out his feelings with you. little did he know, that would land him in a tub full of bubbles with you.

“If you love baby, let me hear you say it, I know I’m your favorite.”

── SOOBIN'S GROANS filled the space of the room, echoing off the walls and coming right back to him, further irritating his growing headache. the man sat up, as much as his aching body would let him, holding his hands over his face to avoid the sun glaring into his window, casting her warm rays over the room, which usually he’d find comforting but the hangover looming over his being made him unable to enjoy her visit to his morning. soobin wiped his hands down his face, trying to get rid of the exhaustion and drowsiness before opening his eyes, only to end up squinting against the stinging sunlight. he scanned his bedroom, picking up on the small disturbances in the usually organized room.

he noticed that his clothes from the night before were littered on the floor, some of the things on his dresser knocked over, his phone laying at the end of the bed, probably dead by now. these were small signs of soobin coming home drunk and making a mess, though before he could try and recollect on the events of the past, a soft knock from his door pulled him out of his thoughts. his eyes slowly moved towards the door, anxiety spiking at the idea of some woman his drunken self may have brought home coming through, which he was in no state to deal with. 

“Mr. choi, can I come in?” the familiarity of the soft voice immediately soothed soobin’s worries, filling him with a sense of comfort that only one person on this earth can bring him, other than his family. “of course, come in.” soobin responded, as loud as he could without hurting his head more, voice deep and raspy from lingering sleep and the light scratch in his throat. a small smile found his lips as his lovely assistant pushed the door open, a warm smile on your own face and hands bearing your purse, flowers, and a plastic bag that made soobin a little curious. the man’s eyes followed you as you journeyed further into his room, watching as you placed your purse and bag on the bed before moving to place the fresh flowers in the vase on his nightstand, replacing the dead ones he’d been too busy to take care of. 

“how are you feeling? Is the hangover bad?” you asked gently, making soobin groan at the reminder of the tension of the hangover weighing on him, “it’s pretty bad..” he mumbled, sounding almost inaudible due to the depth of his voice. you hummed in response to him, “I thought so. you should take some medicine.” soobin nodded agreement, following your figure as you moved closer to the bed and dug through your purse, pulling out a container of painkillers and then grabbing a bottle of water from the plastic bag. soobin’s smile only got bigger, dimples peeking as he accepted the medication and water. 

soobin always adored how caring you were, more than he’d like to admit. it was just something about you going out of your way to do things like this and making sure he was at his best health, that made his heart swell. it was really just something about you, your kind and comforting aura, that drew him in, made him want to be closer. you had to be one of the best assistants that he’s had, and he had many. and maybe, he’s just saying that because he has a tiny infatuation with you, but at least he’s being honest. 

“you’re too good to me. aren’t you tired of me?” soobin asked as he sat back against his headboard, running his ring clad hand through his hair, a lazy smile forming on his lips as you laughed at his question. “even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” you responded, earring a wider grin from him and a light shake of his head. when you started to move from his side, soobin felt a twinge of disappointment, already missing the banter that you two commonly shared before you were even gone, or maybe it was just you he’d miss.

“I brought you some tea and soup for your hangover, I’ll put them in the fridge before I go.” you told the man, earning a hum from him as he watched you near the door, a frown and a look of longing on his face, a reaction to you leaving that he didn’t realize was showing in his expression. oh how he wished to reach out and tell you to stay, take care of him, wash away the remaining ache that hadn’t been reached by your comfort yet. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. choi. please rest well on your day off.” you gentle voice pulled his heartstrings, as did that cute little smile you gave him. you both shared a look of understanding, easily informing him that you cleared his schedule so he could recover without disruption, without saying anything. god he loved that. “I will, my love. and thank you.” soobin responded just as gently, noting the way your smile turned slightly timid at the pet name. you were just so gorgeous no matter what you did, huh? he gave a small nod as you waved goodbye, willing himself not to jump out of bed and cling to you like a dog who didn’t want his owner to leave.

your absence immediately made the room become ten times colder than before and the sun’s rays much duller, as if you took the sun herself, and the heat that came with it, with you. maybe he was just imagining things, but it felt like his world was so much colder, nearly grey when you weren’t around. the aura and the overall warmth that radiated off of you, genuinely made him feel so much better, like you just transfer your energy and easily cleanse his, make him feel relaxed and calm. there’s just something about you that made him feel so right, so at home.

god he missed you, it was a sickening feeling that had him hiding underneath his covers like a scared toddler, hiding from his thoughts of you, someone that worked for him. it was so strange that he thought of you this way, and he just couldn’t figure out why; or maybe he was just trying to avoid the reason why, because he was trying to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel such a way about his assistant, but the more he tried, the more he yearned to break that rule and hope you’d do or feel the same. 

soobin sighed, closing his eyes so that he could sleep off these lingering feelings and the dull aching in his body. he needed to get a grip.

“first you love me, then you leave me in the basement. I know i’m favorite”

the steam hazed into the air, filling the kitchen with an infused scent of miso soup and raspberry hibiscus tea. the light mist fogged up soobin’s glasses as he took spoonfuls of soup into his mouth while staring at the documents on his laptop screen, but clearing as soon as it came once he put the utensil down. the warm liquid danced on his taste buds gently, waltzing gracefully down his throat and settling in his stomach peacefully, leaving a warm feeling that he’s never quite felt before while eating food; that was even more of a clear sign that the soup was homemade, other than the fact that it came in a glass container with strawberries on it, something only you would own. something about a home-cooked meal left such a fluttery feeling in soobin, he could easily feel the love that was put in it and it reminded him so much of his mother. the fact that you made it for him, made it ten times more special, made his poor heart squeeze. 

he found it rather hard to focus with all these thoughts and feelings floating around, every single little thing making him think of you: the tea, the soup, his mother’s loving messages, his cat rubbing his calf, even the documents he keeps having to re-read. you just seem to be surrounding him, like you felt tiny pieces of yourself in everything he owned, the biggest pieces being in his mind and heart.

soobin sighed, shutting his laptop and leaning back in his seat, hands running through his hair in exhaustion, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour getting nothing done. this internal spiral he seemed to be going through was taking a toll on him, as well as that dull aching that was wrapping its cold hands around his body and soul. when he’d awakened earlier, around three pm, soobin had quickly discovered that this ache was not caused by his hangover; no, those symptoms had faded long before you left; it was something else entirely. it was the feeling of longing that settled in his bones, heavy sorrow that sat on his shoulders and dragged him down; there was a tight string around his mournful heart, and it tugged, tugged, and tugged, begging for him to follow and go to where he belonged. his heart missed you, and it was desperate to be with you, he needed to be with you, he yearned for it no matter how his mind tried to convince him otherwise.

oh, what was a man to do? what was he to do when these feelings were no longer ones to ignore, that ran too deep in his body and festered in the darkest corners within him. this tiny infatuation was never tiny, nor was it just an infatuation, this man was in love with you, and he had been from the moment he watched you be interviewed from the hallway outside of the conference room. soobin was in love with you. 

soobin played with the thought a little in his head, let himself come to terms with it and made a silent agreement with his heart not to fight it anymore; by the time it really settled in his mind, he was already up and on the way to the door, leaving behind his meal. no meal was more important than you in the moment or any moment. he had to sort out these feelings with you before tomorrow or he might not be able to be in the same room with you without exploding. 

“pussy so good it sets me on fire, I leave myself, I elevate higher.”

sounds of flowing water peeked from the crack of the door, like the sound of a flowing stream, whispering a soothing serenade to your weary body, calling you to its sanctuary of warmth and promising to make all your woes disappear, should you listen. you were tempted to, the coolness of the silk fabric tied around your body making your body feel extra sensitive, the fatigue making your bones groan with each movement you made. still, you would resist temptation till you finished organizing the orders for soobin’s business party next week. 

being choi soobin’s assistant was never an easy job, but doing half of your boss’s work for the day, plus yours, proved to be more than your mind and body could handle. of course you were glad that the man got to rest after getting hammered the night before, but you seemed to have overestimated your skills a bit. you don’t even know how soobin runs a whole company without getting burned out. that man was an absolute god warrior. speaking of soobin, you wondered how he was holding up, if his hangover was any better. soobin was a strong man and probably gotten over it by now but you can’t help but worry about him, though you couldn’t tell if that was just because of your raging crush on him or just because he was your boss. either way you hoped he was okay. 

a sudden knock pierced through your train of thought, prompting you to glance at the little clock in the bottom right corner of your laptop screen and wonder who was at your door at seven pm. you pushed your laptop out of your lap, setting it aside as you slid off the bed. you peeked into the bathroom from where you were standing, the tub not being even halfway filled to the point that you usually liked. you were thankful to soobin for being able to live in such a luxurious apartment that had a bathtub nearly the size of a pool. a small smile tugged at your lips at the thought, hands tightening the robe as you walked out of your bedroom, making sure none of your assets would be shown to whatever stranger you may greet.

the floorboards creaked under your light footsteps, the lights reflecting off the gold of your jewelry as you ventured to your front door, wondering who could be paying you a visit at such a time of the night. you expected it to be something bizarre, used to yeonjun and beomgyu popping up randomly with dumb suggestions of things to do for fun or out of this world stories to tell, but what you hadn’t anticipated to be oh so patiently waiting behind the door was your boss; choi soobin himself. your heart had leaped into your throat before you two even locked eyes, mind swirling on the possibility of reasons he could be at your doorstep right now.

“Mr. choi? what are you doing here?” you spoke up first, hoping your voice didn’t reveal how shocked and nervous you were. “just call me soobin for tonight. I’m not Mr. choi at the moment.” he told you softly, voice just as nervous as you were internally and a light blush dusted across the skin of his cheeks and nose as he rubbed the back of his neck; what surprised you more was the fact that he wanted you to call him by his first name, you didn’t know weather to be worried or endeared. he stared, as if waiting for you to repeat your question but with his name this time, you almost rolled your eye. “soobin, what are you doing here?” you asked again, for his satisfaction, heart leaping again at the way he grinned.

If only you knew how his own heart started racing at that; it just rolled off your tongue so smooth, he especial like the way you pronounced soo and bin with a tiny space between them, how cute. he just wants to drop the formalities all the way at this point, hear you say his name all day.

“I came to talk to you, my love. we have something important to discuss.” oh god, the way he said my love, so sweetly and lovingly, could send you straight to heaven. he always told you that you were too sweet, but choi soobin? he was the sweetest, and you just so happened to have a sweet tooth. 

his words gave you slight anxiety, brain quickly racking through your every action throughout the day and wondering if you’d done anything to upset him in anyway; if he’s letting you call him soobin and calling you my love then it’s a slim chance, but that did not sooth your overthinking mind. as if he sensed your slight distress, soobin shook his head and took your hands in his, “don’t overthink it honey, it’s nothing bad, I promise.” he cooed, the pet name making your stomach erupt with butterflies. it’s the second time he’s used such sweet names in the past five minutes and you already felt you might vomit, in a good way. 

soobin was always so quick to soothe your woes as quick as he sniffed them out, luring you out of your angst and overthinking with ease, like some kind of healing fairy. the first time he did it was what caused your little crush; you’d made a mistake that put him in a bit of trouble, though he was able to fix it. you’d beat yourself up about it, scaring yourself half to death because you believed he was going to fire you, but he was quick to shut it down. he’d held your face in his hands, gently shaking your head side to side as he reassured you that he wasn’t going to fire you, that he can’t fault you for a mistake on something he should have handle himself or at least help you with, it was your first week working with him and  you were prone to mistakes.

he’d asked for forgiveness after comforting you, flashing you that charming smile that made his dimples so prominent, and sending your heart into a downward spiral straight into his hands. you’ll never forget that moment, and suddenly that was all you could think about as he held your hands, looking at you so tenderly and reassuring you so gently; you could just drown in him and never come up. 

your stare seemed to make soobin nervous, the man shifting on his feet slightly and inhaling, swallowing with a light bop of his adams apple; it made you grin softly seeing your usually calm, collected, and charming boss so fidgety in your presence, though your not sure why, it was endearing still. soobin was having an inner crisis in the meantime, still trying to figure out how to talk to you about his feelings and wondering how the hell you're so cute and sexy at the same time. god you were such an angel.

“can I…come in?” he asked after clearing his throat, adding a bit of depth to his voice but still keeping his tone soft for you. you nodded with a gentle smile that made his heart thump harshly against his chest. he followed you into the apartment, to which he was familiar with since he bought it, so he didn’t bother looking around, the comfort of it already making him sure he’d spend the rest of his day here with you, if you’d let him. 

soobin took the time to admire you as he sauntered behind: taking note of your shiny hair and pretty skin, your side profile he could slightly see from this angle, every curve and dip of your gorgeous self. he admired every perfect imperfection his eyes could see, just soaking you in and not doubting for a second in his mind that you were divinely made. oh how he longed to take you in his arms, hold you close and kiss each and every part of skin his lips could reach, worshipping you like you deserve. soobin was a weak, desperate man for you.

“so, what do you wanna talk about?” his heart jumps at the question, eyes watching as you sat down, rather gracefully in his opinion, and crossed your legs, his gaze dropping down to the smooth limbs and hands aching to touch him. he cleared his throat, ripping his eyes away and adjusting the collar of his dress shirt. he was feeling rather hot under your gaze.

“well…” he started, but the words sort of died on his tongue and fell back into the dark pit of his mind. he didn’t know how to put his feelings into full sentences; he didn’t want to just tell you that he was in love with you and that’s it, he wanted to tell you everything he felt in detail but then he’d sound like shakespeare. he didn’t know how to confess, but he wanted it to be respectful and not seem like he was forcing his feelings onto you, most of all he wanted it to be memorable. 

soobin sank to his knees in front of you, like you were the queen herself, to him you were. he placed his hands beside both your thighs, maintaining his respectful stance while being so close in proximity. “listen, my love, I want to be honest with you.” he started, letting his mind speak while being mindful of the limited amount of words he had before he’d start rambling. he looked up, the small sparkle in your eyes making him smile, he loved your little curious looks. unfortunately for him, he couldn’t hear how your heart was beating furiously. 

“I want you to know that i’ve loved you for quite some time now.” it was only the first sentence and both of you could feel your hearts beating out of your chests, breaths syncing up as nerves radiated in the air. “for the longest time, i’ve felt this ache in me that I couldn’t quite explain. I found myself missing you even when we were in the same room and yearning for you to be closer.” you’d forgotten how to breathe at this point, each word making your heart swell the more he spoke with so much love and almost a hint of desperation, you never believed someone could love you this much.  

“I need you so bad, that it physically hurts.”

“my love, I love you so damn much, it makes me sick to my stomach.”

he expressed it like he was to die in the next minute, like they were his dying words that he had to say to you for him to be able to move on peacefully. you would have thought he’d just recited a poem with the way you teared up, with the way your heart felt as if it would explode out of your chest, it felt as if he’d set you soul on fire with the passion he put into the words he spoke. soobin, a little worried due to your reaction, moved his hands to your thighs, soothingly rubbing circles on the silk adorned skin and shushing you softly, not to stop you from possibly crying but to tell you to let his words settle for a few minutes. “you can cry, gorgeous, but don’t give me a response yet, that’s not what I came for.” he told you gently, leaning down to kiss your knee before resting his head there and basking in your beauty, something he could do for years.

as if soobin’s words and actions were a request, tears slowly descended down your cheeks, hands finding the man’s face and squishing it slightly, earning a smile as he leaned in your hand. the love and emotion that the two of you felt for each other melded together, floating slowly up into the air and surrounding you with a warm glow. you loved this man more than he knew, and you so badly wanted to tell him, return the feelings, stay in this moment forever but you would have to save that for later because you seemed to have just now remembered that you left the tub running. 

soobin was a little shocked when you suddenly shot up from the couch, chuckling at the gasp you let out as you scurried away. he slowly stood up, placing his hand on his racing heart as he followed after you, letting the string that wrapped so tightly around the organ, guide him to where it wants to be. “must’ve forgotten something.” he mused with a smile as he stepped into the bathroom after you, watching fondly as you stopped the sigh of the faucet and sighed yourself, relieved that the water wasn’t too close to the top of the tub. soobin’s eyes scanned the spacious bathroom, noticing the dim lights, the lit candles, the bubbles floating over the water, and the flowers that littered the steamy liquids. you must have been planning on relaxing in the bath before he’d came by, which made him feel a little bad for interrupting.

“did I disturb you?” he asked as he approached where you were sitting on the edge of the tub, you shook your head, “no but you should be careful, you might slip-” your words were cut short as your foot slipped from under you, as if you’d jinxed yourself by trying to warn him. soobin barely had time to react when you grabbed onto his shirt in an attempted to save yourself, his arm flying out to wrap around your waist, which was no use because he ended up losing his own footing and making both of you tumble into the deep cavern of water and bubbles, the edges of the tub just high enough to keep any large amounts of water from splashing on the floor, save a few drops. 

your bodies sunk into the water, colliding together as soobin landed on top of you and his face pressed against your wet shoulder as bubbles flew up around the both of you, falling in hair and over soaked bodies. soobin lifted his head, looking down at you with a wide grin and amusement dancing in his half-open eyes, finding this situation rather thrilling. “you could have just asked me to get in, you know? I would have said yes my love, didn’t have to pull me in.” he teased, using his wet, ring clad finger to place bubbles on your nose, making you roll your eyes. “you know I didn’t do it on purpose. you look like you’d preferred that way.” you teased back, earning a deep hum of agreement as the man pressed his forehead gently against yours, staring intensely, but lovingly into your pretty eyes. 

“of course I do baby, I would fall with you or for you, anytime.” he responded lowly, breath gently fanning over your face, so gorgeous under the dim candlelight and the celestial shine pouring from the windows, the moon blessing him with such a piece of  art. goosebumps littered your skin from the scent of him, infused with his cool, minty breath and the heavy weight of his words spoken into the tenison lingering in the air, making your skin feel hot from more than just the heat of the water. 

soobin’s gaze dropped to your lips, plump and still covered with a faint coat of gloss. he wanted to taste them, meld his lips with them similar to how your bodies were. he wanted to slowly devour them, lick them, bite them, savour your flavor till he so addicted, that no food could feed his hunger for you. he wanted to run his hands all over you, feel every curve and imperfection, study it and memorize it. he wanted to become one with you, melt into you and become nothing but energy.

you could feel it too, the burning passion, the un-ignorable urge to tangle the strings of your hearts together so that neither of you could separate, so that your souls have no choice but to blend together and fill the room with an energy strong enough to burn the whole building down. the love he had for you, you could feel it strong now that you're here, in his arms. it’s tenfold, much deep than the words he had confessed, much louder for the whole world to hear. you feel it too, you felt it so deeply, so intensely, that your own feelings had no choice but to bubble up to the surface and overflow the tub. 

“may I?” he asked as his eyes found yours again, voice as gentle as his touch, and barely above a whisper. the sparkle in your eyes told him yes, and so did your body as you pulled him closer, but soobin was nothing if not a gentleman, so he’d want hours till you verbally said yes, to kiss you; you couldn’t put into words how that made you feel. “yes, please..” you murmured, and it was nothing you had to beg for, but he found you doing so incredibly endearing. it was slow the way he leaned in, though he was needy, he took his time getting to you, inch by inch. once his lips met yours, he had to pause to savor the feeling, his whole body tingling at the sensation.

they were smooth, delicate, the thickness of them comparable to a pillow and the wetness of the gloss making him feel like he was kissing silk. he could recite a million adjectives about your lips alone. when he started to move, it was gradual, lips wrapped around yours in a gentle bite, taking his time to taste you and commit the flavor to memory. soobin’s free hand came up to hold your face, thumb delicately caressing your skin as he pushed closer to you, as if needing to be as close as humanly possible to you. a low groan, body shuddering slightly the longer your lips and his danced with one another. the kiss started to increase in intensity in only a few minutes, going from slow and sweet, to something more needy, hungry. 

you devoured each other's lips with greed, needing more and more from each other with each passing moment. soobin couldn’t bother to hold back a single sound he made, and neither could you; the sounds of your mixed noises echoed around the bathroom, creating a lovely harmony that played well over the sounds of watering moving as your hands journeyed each other’s bodies eagerly.

 soobin’s hand found yours under the water, and with a gentle grip on your wrist, he pulled up. his lips left yours slowly, eyes sharing a moment of intense contact that sent a spark of electricity through your body; he turned his head away, bringing your hand to his lips and placing sweet kisses on the pulse point, trailing them up your wrist and into your palm, making butterflies flutter wildly in your chest and stomach. “mm, you're so gorgeous. I could never get enough of you.” he said in a low voice, his lips trailing back down to your wrist and descending your forearm until he reached the inside of your elbow. he slowly turned your arm, continuing to kiss up it and reaching your shoulder. “can’t get enough.” he repeated as he littered your shoulder with kisses, making your stomach tingle with every little press of his lips. 

soobin reached up to your face, hand cupping your cheek as he lifted your head slowly, proceeding to press his lips against your neck, earning little moans that made his heart thump harshly in his chest. he was making it his mission to cover every inch of your skin with his kisses. while he focused on his task, your hands were on their own mission, subtly undoing each button of his shirt, starting from the bottom and gradually reaching the top. as you opened his shirt, soobin shuddered, face flushing and mind reeling with the idea of being bare, under your loving gaze. “you're driving me crazy, baby.” he mumbled against the skin of your collarbone, goosebumps decorating his skin as your soft hands felt up his body, the heat of the water on his skin combined with the warmth of your hands making him rather feverish. 

“soobin..” you breathed out as the man lightly sucked on a spot just above the valley of your breast, tongue darting out to lap over the little mark he made. “can I take this off, my love?” he asked politely as his hand moved over the silk fabric of your robe, completely soaked now. you nodded slowly, breath hitching slightly as he slowly undid the ribbon around your waist, and watched with pure adoration as the robe fell apart in the water. good god, you were just so divine from your head to your toes, he might start crying. “what am I to do with all this beauty?” soobin whispered as he leaned in to kiss your lips once again, removing the pink garment from your form and throwing over the edge of the tub, paying no mind to the fact that it was dripping on the floor. he only cared about you right now. 

soobin moved back from you, water splashing on his stomach as he sat on his knees and took you in like he was staring at a geek sculpture of a goddess. he took his time: noting your hair that rested genty over your face, every detail of your pretty face, the way the water enveloped your heavenly body, hiding some parts but delicately accentuating others. the warm lights of the candles contoured some of your features, the moon only adding a more magical look to the image in front of him, making him feel as if he was experiencing some type of divine intervention, he just couldn’t believe that he was here with you right now. when his eyes finally found your’s again, he swore his heart plummeted into the tub, it seemed that he wasn’t the only one doing the admiring. something about that made him dizzy, knowing that you found him as attractive as he did you. 

the man’s ring clad hands came up to your knee, caressing the smooth skin of your leg as he moved his hand down to your ankle, yanking it slightly and moving between your legs, earning a gasp. “I want to make you feel good, can I?” he asked, voice filled with slight need as if it was more of a plea. his hand moved up under your knee as he leaned down, pressing kisses into the skin of your thigh, “can I, baby?” he repeated the question again, looking up with pleading eyes. 

“you can soobin.” you responded breathlessly, feeling yourself go a little more insane with each kiss he placed on your thighs, a shiver running up your spine as he smiled against your flesh, “thank you, my love.” he whispered, as you’d blessed him just by giving him permission. soobin placed one more kiss on the back of your thigh, sucking the plump skin slowly and leaving another mark, loving the way you reacted so well everytime he did it. he moved his hands up your thighs, taking a firm hold of your hips and chuckling at the way you squirmed slightly, obviously being a little ticklish. he’ll remember that for another time. the man hoisted you up out of the water, causing a huge splash of water as he placed you on the edge of the tub. he moved closer to you again, remaining on his knees as he looked upon you like you were the most out of this world being he’d ever seen, in his world you were. his glossy eyes moved over each part of your body, admiring with bated breath as his gaze made its way up to your pretty face.

“god your so fucking heavenly, baby.” he moaned, moving between your thighs and kissing all over the inner parts, squeezing your hips gently, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. soobin’s labored breaths filled the space between your thighs as he kissed your skin, sucking and licking, leaving marks that would remind you of his presence when he’s gone.

each moan soobin let out soon mixed with yours as his kisses turned open mouth; he was gaining pure pleasure from making you feel this good, body vibrating with nothing but bliss. his hands came down to the back of your knees, lifting your legs and placing them over his shoulders, gliding his tongue all the way up your inner thigh and straight to your cunt, pressing a sweet kiss on the heat and looking up to watch you let out the prettiest moan when he lapped his tongue over your folds, a grin forming on his lips. “that’s right baby, let out all those pretty noises, lemme hear you.” soobin encouraged as he continued running his tongue over your folds, ever so slowly, humming at the delicious taste of you. 

soobin was so confident in your love right now, drowning in it, in you and every sound you made, being egged on by the way your hand came to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his blonde hair and nails grazing against his scalp, sending tingles down his spine, pushing his face further into your heat. his glasses fogged up, from the heat from you combined with the heat of the water below him, keeping him from seeing anything, though he already had the image of you burned into his brain. 

you threw your head back, moaning out loud as he devoured you like he was starving, like you were his last meal. his tongue made a mess of your pussy, lips becoming shiny from your juices as his lips wrapped around you with ease. “oh my god, soobin..” you whispered, as if scared to be too loud, gripping his hair as he sucked on your clit. “louder sweet thing, tell me how you feel” he cooed, fingers lightly caressing your inner thighs as he sucked on your sensitive bud once more, earning a loud curse and a whine from you, which he chuckled at. he was literally driving you insane. 

soobin continued sucking and licking on your clit, moving one of your legs down from his shoulder so he could bring his hand towards your cunt, slowly sliding his middle finger inside and groaning at the tug you gave his hair when he did it. soobin looked over his glasses, taking in the pleasured expression on your pretty face and the way your plump lips fell open with each moan you gifted to his ears. “so pretty baby.” he complimented as he added his ring finger to your sopping cunt, slowly dragging his finger in and out in the most mind-numbing of ways. soobin released your clit from his mouth with a light pop of his lips, replacing them with his thumb, warm palm cupping your heat and pulling a drawn moan from you as he simulated your pussy with one hand. this man wasn’t real, you’ve decided that now. 

soobin came up to capture your lips in his, your leg still over his shoulder, creating a different angle that made you whine in his mouth. your head was spinning by this point, so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure one man was giving you without even trying; and maybe it was because it was soobin and all the love you had for this man was just enhancing everything he was doing, either way this had to be the best pleasure you’ve felt in awhile. “close your eyes, my love, let your body feel me.” soobin whispered, breath fanning over your ear and making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. you listened, shutting your eyes and using your other senses to enjoy this moment. the man's fingers picked up pace, making your body feel like it was on fire from how good it felt. his cologne suddenly smelled a lot stronger, skin  hypersensitive to his sloppy kisses on your neck and his wandering hand, senses seeming to be on complete overdrive now that your eyes were closed, making the pleasure ten times better. 

“you feel me, baby.” he asked softly, smiling at your rapid nod as his hand found your breast, rubbing your nipple with his thumb. you reached out to grab his sides, squeezing slightly and digging the heel of your foot into his back, the stimulation he was giving you sending right to that sweet edge. “soobin, please don’t stop.” you pleaded as you felt him slow down, earning a soft coo from the man as he began to pull his hand away from your dripping cunt. 

“you know i’d love to listen to my love, but I wanna cum too.” he responded lovingly as he licked his fingers of your juices, chuckling at the way you bit your lip, at both his words and actions. “c’mere gorgeous.” he beckoned, wrapping your arms around his neck and grabbed your hips, pulling you back down into the water with him. 

soobin moved his head down to your breasts, kissing down the valley as he removed his shirt and discarded it somewhere on the bathroom floor, moving to deal with his pants. he shifted, capturing your nipple between his lips and swirling his tongue over the small bud, your breathes coming out as heavy huffs and stomach pooling with heat at the sound of him undoing his belt. the man wasn’t at all eager to get his pants off, solely focused on pleasing you more than himself, though just doing so was enough to get him off. soobin’s hand came up to your opposite nipple, gently rubbing and rolling it between his fingers while his mouth worked the other, pulling sweet moans out of you, ones that had soobin’s mind reeling.

soobin moved away from your breast, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he struggled to pull down his pants due to how wet they were; he was practically aching at this point, cock begging for the stimulation he’d denied himself this whole time. he would have definitely suffered through more aching if that meant satisfying you completely. “having trouble there, soobie?” you teased breathlessly, earning a grunt from the man and a deep huff, though his heart was doing cartwheels over the new nickname. you giggled at his reaction, watching in amusement as he was able to get his dress pants down his thighs, taking his boxers with it. normally, soobin would have given up halfway and already have relieved himself of such sexual burden, but he’d rather die with an aching dick than ever rush this moment with you. 

the man placed the rest of his clothes on the floor, before returning his attention to you, his forehead resting on yours as he gazed into your pretty eyes. “do you want to continue? we don’t have to if-” you cut him off by placing a finger on his lips, smiling fondly at his act of making sure that you were comfortable; you definitely wouldn’t have let him this far if you weren’t comfortable. “yes, I want to continue soobin.” you told him softly, and he nodded, hands finding your thighs and running up them slowly, fingers caressing at your sides. he leaned down to capture your lips with his once more, just as slow and sweetly as the first time, still so much passion in it after so long. he shifted his hips slightly, his length carefully sliding between your folds, both your moans melding together into one as your lips stayed glued together. 

soobin moved steadily, staying just like that, enjoying the feeling that made him shudder. he could cum just from this alone; from the kiss he shared with you, the warmth of the water surrounding both of you, from you and all this beauty, he could finish just from this moment, the burning passion and desire hazing in the air and enveloping both of you in a cloud of pure bliss. the thought of being inside of you was sending him into even more of a frenzy, because he just knew he’d get lost in you and lose his way back. soobin physically had to stop his hips from moving, trembling slightly as he dragged his cock back down your folds and teasing your entrances with his tip, your cunt threatening to suck him in, which was almost too much for him. 

 “give me….a second, baby” he breathed out as he pulled away from you, burying his face in your boobs as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. he was losing it a bit. you watched him, shivering at the sensation of his breath passing through the space between your breasts. you lifted a hand to rest in his hair, soothingly petting it to assure soobin he wasn’t alone in needing a minute, your own breaths laboured from all the activity and tension. the blonde hummed, nuzzling his face in your soft breasts, “you're so good to me baby.” he mumbled, voice muffled by your flesh but audible. soobin moved his hips once more, gently pushing his length inside of you and groaning into you as your wet cunt just pulled him in, walls feeling like silk against his cock. 

“so good, oh baby.” he moaned out as he turned his head on your chest, shaky exhales leaving his lips as he moved in and out of you with ease due to the water combining with your slick. his cock twitched with each gorgeous moan you let out, goosebumps returning as your nails gazed against the skin of his back, hands squeezing at his sides and thighs pressing warmly against his hips. he was seriously going to lose his mind. 

everything about this was so right and it was dizzying for the both of you. your body's fit against each other like puzzle pieces, skin melded together, scents and breaths mixed almost intoxicatingly, voices harmonizing to fill the room with a haunting symphony.

your cunt took him in like he was always welcomed, walls hugging him warmly and cervix kissing his tip sweetly. even the environment around you two felt perfect: the water felt warm and velvety against your skin, bubbles and flower petals surrounding your bodies, the candles still brightly lit, cascading over the room and mixing it’s scents with  you and soobin’s, creating a wonderful aroma; even the moon was adding her presence to the scene, kissing you both with her celestial glow and letting you know this connect was divinely blessed. soobin already knew he was drowning in you, he knew from the moment he stepped through that door that he wasn’t going anywhere that wasn’t with you. 

“you must’ve been made for me, my love. I can’t see myself ever letting you go.” soobin whispered, continuing to slowly drag his cock inside of you, lips pressing against your upper arm and shudders racking through his body each time your fingers ran through his hair, nails lightly scratching his back as you soothingly rubbed his back. he was loving every second of this. 

water sloshed and splashed against your lower bodies with each slow, deep thrust, soobin’s body unable to resist shaking and your cunt fluttering around him, both of you overwhelmed by all the love and pleasure radiating off each other’s bodies and seeping into the other’s skin. “soobin.” you called out through a laboured moan, feeling yourself be beckoned closer to the edge, teetering on it. soobin lifted his head, looking up at you with nothing but love in his gaze, making your whole body overflow with emotions, heart pounding in your chest and breathing becoming heavier as his thumb rubbed oh so sweetly around your clit, all sensitive from all this stimulation. “I know baby, I know. let it happen.” he cooed as he increased his speed, only a little, going at a more moderate pace, moaning breathlessly as his hips bumped into yours gently. 

he was feeling it too, the peak of his high, threatening to crash down on him by each push of his hips. regardless, it would always be about pleasing you first, even if he was right behind you on that sweet edge. the splashing was prominent now, your mixed moans louder as the room’s volume increased with the sounds of your love reaching its highest point of energy. soobin pushed further, dangling you both off that tempting edge and just needing that final drop to send you over. his lips parted as your cunt squeezed him, tugging for more, his heart beating out of his chest at everything about you, especially those whines and sweet chants of his name.

“fuck, choi soobin.” you cursed out, shutting your eyes and digging your nails in his back, opposite hand pushing his head in your neck as your orgasm washed over you. that was all it took for him to do the same, his hand flying out to grab the edge of the tub and a drawn out moan spilling out of him as you milked him dry of all he’s got. 

this moment was like heaven, bodies melted together and heavy breaths coming together, unable to tell where who starts and the other ends. you attempted to speak up, but soobin quickly shushed you, his hand coming up to caress his face as he pressed delicate kisses on your skin. “not yet. let’s stay in this moment a little longer, let everything sink in.” he told you as his arm wrapped around your waist and he held you closer against him. 

“thank you, gorgeous, for everything.” he spoke lovingly in your ear, moving up to peck your lips continuously. “thank you for being with me, for blessing me with your presence.” he said between kisses, starting another love filled speech that already had you wanting to cry. “for loving me, caring for me, making me feel so high and grounding me at the same time.” his kisses kept going after each statement, even as he watched the tears fall from your pretty eyes once again, hours later.

“thank you for holding me down, my love.” he sealed his poem with one last slow kiss, as sweet and loving as all the rest, deep and drawn out enough to bring more tears of pure emotion. he placed his chin on your chest, using his thumbs to rid your face of the tears as he stared at you fondly, a huge dimpled smile on his face; he whispered a small I love you, without needing an answer, because he knew you did too, but what was always most important to him is that he made you feel the weight of his words, how much they meant to him, weather you reciprocated or not. that’s just the man soobin was.

"I'll take the time, treat you like a lady."

THANK YOU for tuning in! hope you enjoyed your dreamy package!

── ciao belle❀

©doomssoiree

[envy-of-the-apple]

Moon Starves Sun

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun(Full part)

Synopsis: The aftermath of 'Sun Eats Moon' in Satoru's perspective.

(Warnings: implied sex, forced relationships)

When Satoru's close like this, he can hear your heartbeat. 

It's been a while. Ten years. An entire decade. Everything about this is different, yet so familiar. He feels like he's finally reached the shores, feeling the warm sands underneath his feet. Like he's been given his favorite food after being starved for years. Everything melts. Everything except for you. 

He'd like to stay like this forever, listening to your rabbit heartbeat, feeling your soft skin, but for your sake, he pulls himself off you. Lying on a wooden desk probably isn't that comfortable. 

Your eyes are shut. Your breathing is shallow. You're so pretty like this under the moonlight. Your clothes are barely hanging onto your body. He can see every mark he's left on you. Part of him wants to make more, but he'll let you off the hook for now. He's nice like that. 

"Still with me?" 

Your eyes flutter open. You don't respond, but at least you're not crying anymore. He can work with that. 

"C'mon, pretty girl," he says, voice soft, "let's piece you back together." 

The belt left lines on your wrists. He'll kiss them better later. For now, Satoru collects your clothes and heels from the floor, placing them on the desk. He helps you reclasp your bra, runs his fingers on your arms when you finish buttoning your blouse. It's a quiet affair. Every so often, he'd catch your eyes. You don't let yourself linger for long. Satoru finds that a little cute. 

You say nothing when he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you out of his office. Maybe you're still dazed, still gathering yourself back up, because you don't struggle as much as he predicted. You try to leave his grip when the two of you reach the lobby. He's quick to stop you. 

"Where, do you think you're goin'?" He grips your wrist when you take a step away. 

You look at him, eyes shimmering like water. 

You swallow. "My apartment. I—I need to go back—" 

He clicks his tongue, bringing you back in. 

"We can get your stuff later." He tells you with a grin. "let's just go home, tonight. I'm exhausted." 

You open your mouth. Satoru waits. You say nothing, and he thinks you're starting to get it. 

The moon is a dusky red tonight. Satoru thinks it's an ugly color. 

☾

If Satoru could describe you in one word, it would be: predicatable. 

Normal, boring, a speck in the crowd—none of these are bad things. Just like how much of the universe is nothing, you're an empty void, too. Not everyone can be like him. From the minute he was born, Satoru was destined for greatness—a prodigy, heir to a millionaire conglomerate, the Sun itself. His life isn't written on his forehead for everyone to read. 

You are the exact opposite. Completely unassuming. He practically knows everything about you without even having to ask. 

Like how Satoru can instantly tell you've never been over to a boy's room before. 

You've probably never even been in a relationship before him, either. Even before he managed to corral you into his arms, you were always so annoying about the other things like school and friends. Though, you don't really have much of the latter anymore. His fault, Suguru never fails to remind him. 

He watches as your eyes linger over his shelf: the numerous trophies and awards. You're still standing meekly in the corner, still garbed in your school uniform, clutching your backpack. He has to roll his eyes at how obviously you're trying not to look at him. 

"What're you waitin' for?" He finally asks. You jump, eyes flitting over to find him before you find the floor. He resists the urge to roll his eyes again.

It's not like you two haven't done shit before. You sucked him off twice now, and he's finger fucked you against the bleachers. You should really stop being such a prude. 

"C'mere, pretty girl." 

***full version of pt 3 is on a03 and account restricted. in the process of censoring the fic so it can be posted on tumblr**