#gave up on the colouring halfway through it is what it is

[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[nadjasnandor]

Now, come on, let's go.

[marigraphia]

I've had this pose ref saved for a while and the Superman set photos just gave off the same energy 👉🏻👈🏻

The reference is this photo of Katharine Hepburn as Antiope and Colin Keith-Johnston as Theseus in the 1932 play 'The Warrior's Husband' (and I'd love for people to turn into a draw your otp meme pls pls pls this pose is so good)

And also, of course, the Superman (2025) set photos

[bi-functional]

We were all thinking it ok?

(I’m sorry Jon Hamm)

[josephquinnswhore]

no promise left unkept - joel miller x female reader

summary: Joel knows how to fuck, and good. But does he know how to love. He’s not sure, but he wants to try.. with you.

word count: 1.1k

content warning: raw fucking, p in v, reader tasting her own juices, two idiots navigating their feelings.

The sun hadn’t yet completely risen over the top of the tall silhouette of the trees of the forest yet, eliciting a bright orange glow through the forestry. The same glow that makes Joel look ethereal, his hazel eyes glow golden, his skin too.

The cool, autumn breeze weaves through the branches, it feels icy on the exposed skin of your ass.

Your jeans had been brazenly pulled halfway down to your ankles when Joel decided that this was the perfect spot for you, insisted.

“It’s safe here, ain’t gonna run int’a no trouble, promise.”

The deepened drawl of his morning tiredness lingered, the promise was one you’d heard time and time again, in which he took seriously.

Here you were, attempting to stabilise yourself against a growing tree stump that you had been bent over, creating the perfect angling of Joel to spear into you, while your back is arched proficiently. Each time he thrusts into your sopping, greedy cunt, your knees scrape against the stump from the force of his desperate movements.

Pummelling into you over and over, the reverence of his cock clamming harshly into your hole was the only thing keeping your mind off the pain. He was so thick, so delicious, the tip of his cock rams against the soft flesh of your cervix. It’s a painful feat to bear and your fingers coil around the loose foliage in attempt to alleviate the pain.

Despite how standoffish and rude Joel seemed, you’d fucked him enough to know that he was a generous man. Perhaps he wasn’t the most romantic, this wasn’t his bedroom, after all. But he had made it his unspoken duty to claim you. Worshipping every inch of your body, refusing to let you walk back to the settlement you call home without that satisfied, fucked out face you gave him.

Like clockwork, you’d sneak out of Jackson through the unfinished boarding on the south end that was still being repaired, meeting him at the lookout for his patrol once every week for a desperate fucking.

“I know you got one more for me, can feel how tight you’re clenchin’ around me—“ he interrupts himself with a grunt, picking up his pace frantically as he leans right over you. The added weight of his chest flush against your back makes you stumble palm first into the soft orange and yellow autumn leaves. The fallen colourful leaves crinkle and crunch under your palm, collecting under your nails as you curl your fingers into the loose plant.

Joel is grunting in your ear, his thick cock ramming into you with such devotion that he hadn’t with anyone other than you.

He loved to please you, hearing every whine and bated breath he could feel. His fingers are warm and wet, slick of your juices from playing with your clit. He clumsily redirects two of his thick digits to slide against your chin as he clutches onto your jaw, intrude into your mouth, it’s met with the same warmth your cunt provides, and he fucks your mouth too.

With another orgasm approaching, you’re whining, but the sound is muffled by his thick fingers and you’re forced to suck on them, tasting off your own arousal.

Never had you met a man so devoted to making sure you came first, drawing it out of you with his elicit fucking and feral grunts. The skilful fingers and the way they caress your body with such tenderness and precision to what makes you feel good.

He could never stop himself from the rapids of intrusive thoughts of cumming inside you, no matter how much time he had to give himself, he couldn’t. The feel of your cunt clenched around him like a vice, begging to be filled with his thick load.

A devotion to you, but he couldn’t ever find the courage to make you his exclusively, outside of fucking you, with the promise of something real.

You slobber against his thick fingers, tears falling down your cheeks as you cum again, the obscene sound is muffled. In quick succession you couldn’t recall, but he always made up for the days of the week he didn’t see you.

The sound of him grunting and heaving as he pulls out of you to cum on the damp foliage is tuned out by the ringing of your ears after another intense orgasm.

Without a beat passing, Joel is pulling your jeans up to cover whatever decency you still held, and managed to help you to your feet, still dazed and euphoric, you undervalue the intimate and personal gesture of him wiping your tears away.

“You alright?” A softness brings you back to him, into his orbit. The way he gazes at you with those hazel eyes is the only way he’ll allow you to understand what he’s feeling.

“Hey—“ he snaps you out of your dazed state and manages to elicit a nod from you. “Not good enough. I need words, talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” the murmur is unconvincing, lacking any real substance.

The warmth on your ears spreads down your neck as he looks at you, into your eyes intently as if he senses something is wrong.

“You’re not fine. Did I hurt you?” The warm flesh of his hands cradled your cheek.

“No. You didn’t hurt me.” That wasn’t entirely true, your knees ache and your stomach was hurting from his incessant ramming. But what hurt the most was that you two couldn’t do this properly. In his bed, or with someone acknowledging that you two were an item.

Joel knew something was amiss, he knew that you had feelings for him, you two had been screwing for months, how couldn’t you have?

And he—burns the cowadarce inside of him, seeing the distraught expression on your face. The need.

“I’ll come visit you tonight, alright? We’ll have a meal, an’.. we’ll talk about this. Us.” His murmur is soft, a promise, and pauses. “If you want.”

“You will?”

Disbelief overwhelms him. While your heart feels yearning, to keep his hand on you, to beg him not to make you return to Jackson without him by your side, to give him any time for him to forfeit his promise.

Did he make you feel this unsure of the dynamic you shared?

He hums, the sound is even and calm. He pinches your cheek. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, sweetheart. Promise.”

With that one word, you feel secure, like an infant being held in the arms of it’s mother. Safe.

Joel Miller is your security, and he had never broken a promise to you.

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 15

Stu Macher + edging and/or milking

I always love jock reader, so im running with it again this time, hehe.

On another note, I’ve realised lately how I’ve come to really love dark chocolate, which is funny, cuz I remember hating it as a kid.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Stu was splayed out on your bed as you did push-ups in the middle of your room, the carpet under your hands rough under your palms from age and whatever abuse you’d but it through during all the time you have lived in this room.

Since everyone had been ordered to stay home because of the killings happening around town, you hadn’t gotten to go to football practice the few days, so you felt lazy and jittery, like you needed to let off the steam you normally got out during practice. You had no idea how long you’d been working out, as your arms and core burned and sweat ran down your shirtless torso, but you still felt like you needed to do something.

At some point, Stu had wandered into your room. Your parents weren’t home, so you assumed he had just used the key hidden under the plant near the door, like you’d shown him. He had sat at the edge of your bed and watched you work out, rambling about his day and about the killings around town, he had even placed his feet on your back like some kind of stool, in an attempt to get your full attention.

But after a while of not getting it, your boyfriend had groaned obnoxiously and thrown himself back onto your bed, kicking his shoes off in the process and splaying out like a starfish. He quickly grew bored of staring at the posters on your walls or humming different tunes he had heard on the radio, so Stu had dug his upper torso under your bed to look for the dirty magazines he knew you kept there.

They were kept hidden, since most of your teammates wouldn’t react well to you being gay, and magazines filled with shirtless or naked men kinda gave that image. You had been so consumed by your push-ups that he didn’t even notice what Stu was doing, the familiar jingle of a belt not even registering in your head.

It was only when he started moaning that you finally noticed, stretching your arms out to push your upper body up enough to look up at Stu on the bed. A snort left you as you saw him, his pants and boxers pushed halfway down his thighs as he lazily jerked off, flipping through one of your favourite magazines. Of course Stu would start jerking off when he didn’t get attention, but you also didn’t wanna give him the satisfaction, it was a matter of principle.

Instead, you switched to doing sit-ups, making sure you grab a look at your lover every time you sat up, letting your eyes linger as his hips stuttered as he rolled his palm over his tip. “You better not finish that” you hummed as you watched his hips jolt in a way you knew meant he was close.

It was kind of a rule that had appeared between the two of you, if the other was around you didn’t get to cum until the other did it for you or told you. You couldn’t remember what it started but the reminder had Stu whining as he forced himself to let go of his hard prick, clenching his hand into a fist against his abdomen.

As you kept up your exercise, you met Stus eyes over the top of the magazine. He hadn’t actually been looking at any of the pictures, instead he had just been watching you as your muscles flexed, as it was better than anything on the magazine’s pages.

Stu kept touching himself, his noises growing more needy as his length started darkening in colour, as you made sure to remind him to stop when he got close. You couldn’t help but push your exercise longer than you normally would, just to watch as his thighs shivered and twitched, or how his hips jumped off the bed into his hand from sensitivity. He was a leaking mess, leaving his hand glistening and slick.

He let out a warbled moan as you got to your feet, a glimmer of hope appearing in his eyes, begging through his noises and half moaned words for you to help him. The moan turned into a whined sob as you started doing lunges instead, a grin on your face as you kept your eyes glued to him and his twitching hands as he seemed to struggle to even touch himself without bursting.

“Come on Stu, you were so confident earlier” you teased, at this point not even taking the workout serious as you almost didn’t want to blink, not wanting to miss the way Stu stopped the magazine on his chest to wrap both his hands around himself. He was squeezing at his base to keep from cumming, the other hand sloppily twisting around the deep red head, shaking gasps leaving him as his head fell back onto the pillow.

You could see his eyes shut as he clenched his teeth, as when you saw a tear running down the side of his face you finally decided to have some mercy on him. With one last lunge, you finally moved up to the bed, crawling up onto the bedding until you were above where he was aching the most.

Stu looked down at you with wet eyes as you batted his hands away, shooting him a heated teasing look before you leaned in, sucking his dripping tip in between your lips. The noise Stu let out sounded almost like you’d shot him, his back arching off the bed in a beautiful bow as he came, his toes curling and fingers digging into the sheets, his entire body twitching and jolting as he choked and whimpered.

It took a while for him to calm down from his release, and the entire time you just kept him between your lips, neither sucking nor teasing him with your tongue, not wanting to torture your boyfriend more than you already had. It was only when he finally went limp onto the bed that you released him, swallowing the white fluid hed spilled across your tongue as you crawled further up the bed, flopping down beside him.

You leaned in, kissing at his cheek and chin, making Stu whine louder as he shoved at your face, laughing as he made comments about you smelling like a school locker room because you were gross and sweaty. After a few more jokes you got to your feet, immediately catching Stus attention as you pushed off your pants and boxers. “Fine, fine. I’ll go shower, I guess you wont wanna join me, if I stink so bad” you hum, turning on your heel and sauntering towards the bathroom, grinning to yourself as you heard Stu almost fall out of bed to follow after you, more than interested in continuing what you had started.

[swiftalchemy]

Only Bought This Dress So You Could Take It Off

Taylor Swift x fem!reader smut

warnings: smut, oral(r!receiving), fingering(r!receiving), thigh/knee riding(r!receiving), fem!reader

summary: Taylor wasn't expecting you at her show, as you had dinner planned with your parents. But, in a turn of events when your dad gets the flu, you buy a dress to surprise her with at her concert. After that, she can't keep her hands off you.

word count: 4.2k

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Taylor frolicked around the stage, her body boneless as she flowed like wind. It was muscle memory at this point, the way she moved. 

You weren’t meant to show up at tonight's show, you had a dinner with your family, since she was touring in your hometown. But, your dad got the flu earlier this morning, so they cancelled on you and said they’d arrange something soon. So, without telling Taylor, you bid her goodbye, telling her you were meeting up for dinner, when you went shopping.

Your eyes scanned the racks, trying to decide on a dress for tonight's show. Finally, one caught your eye, a dark red one. Red was Taylor’s favourite colour, and as soon as you tried it on, you knew she would love it. You bought the dress, went home to get ready, and headed straight to her concert. 

You knew she was about an hour in already, and when you showed up, they let you into the VIP tent. 

Taylor was halfway through a song, one that was an earlier release, and from a previous album. As she went on, singing as she swayed back and forth, she scanned the stage and saw you in the VIP tent. Her eyes lit up.

She had to keep her cool, but she was screaming internally, ecstatic to see you there. She sang the words to you, a smile present on her face, a soft light blush appearing on her cheeks.

She kept going as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but every time she got a chance, she would look over at you, grinning every time. She even messed up a few times, giggling a bit at herself every time she glanced back at you and caught your eye.

She tried to be subtle, but her movements were a bit more exaggerated, the way she moved her hips being more obvious now. She knew that every movement, every wink, every sway, was driving you absolutely insane.

She wrapped up the song soon, breathing heavily. It was the last song of the night, and she was still riding the high from the start to finish. She was still a little out of breath from moving on the stage.

"Thank you guys for coming out tonight, you guys are so amazing."

The band played and gave it their very all as her and all her backup dancers and singers exited the stage for their final time tonight.

As soon as it hit the very second she walked backstage, her breathing steadied, her face flushed from the adrenaline. She took a few seconds to regain herself after all the excitement, and she saw you waiting.

Taylor's eyes widened when she saw you, her heart fluttering as she saw the state you were in. Not only were you already perfect, but in the dress you had picked, she could barely keep herself from screaming and jumping on you right then and there.

“What are you doing here!” she shrieked in excitement as she ran over towards you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

She held you tight, pressing her body into yours as she buried herself in you. She looked down at the dress you were wearing, her lips parting. She was struggling to keep her breath steady as she took in the sight of you, her hands gently moving to your hips.

“You look…” she breathed, licking her lips as her eyes raked your body. Taylor was biting her lip already, trying to contain herself. “You look so good, you know I love you in red.” Her hand slid across your chest, her fingers trailing down to your hips. 

“Hmm why thank you…” you responded to her, interlocking your fingers with hers.

“I have half a mind to drag you to the nearest closet and show you just how much I love this dress.” she purred, her chest just inches from yours, her body flush against you.

“Well, we can’t have you doing that, can we?” you giggle to her “How about you get all packed up for the night, and we’ll go back to the hotel, yeah?” you propose the idea.

She sighs, knowing you’ve got a point, but can’t help feeling like a spoiled child when you tell her no. “Fineeee.” She drags out the syllable in such a dramatic fashion, before she steps away from you, giving you the perfect view of her from behind, as she starts to pack her things up into her bag.

As she stuffs her things away, Taylor turns to look at you, her eyes once again falling upon the dress. Her heart fluttered. After a few moments, she was done packing, her bag in one her as she took you by the hand.

As soon as she pulled you close to her, she was gripping your hips, her eyes moving from your lips to your eyes, over and over again, her thoughts clouded with you.

“Let’s goooo” you say in a sing-song like voice, tugging her hand towards the exit. As you two made your way out from underneath the stage, the remaining crowds in the stands cheered. She gave them a wave and a sweet smile, thanking them once again for coming to her show. You two ran towards the car, fingers intertwined, as you leaped into the backseat.

Taylor was sitting as close as she could get to you, her body pressed against yours. She kept a tight grip on your hand, her thumb running over your knuckles. It was obvious that she was still struggling to keep her breathing steady, the excitement from the show, and her desire for you, clearly still consuming her.

She leaned her head on your shoulder, her breath hot on your skin as she nuzzled into your neck, a soft whimper escaping her lips. One of her hands slipped around your waist, sliding up and down, gently caressing your hip, her legs crossing over one another as she tried to distract herself.

“It’s only a few minutes, Tay…” you attempt to sooth her.

She groaned in annoyance at your words, even though she knew they were true. She was never very good with patience, and she always got worked up like this after a show, this was no different.

“A few minutes is forever when I just want to get you alone.” she whined, her hand gripping your hip a bit tighter.

She gently pressed open mouthed kisses to your collarbone and neck, as best she could while moving in the car, her breathing hot and ragged. She wasn’t thinking straight right now, all she could think about was the feeling of your body against hers, and how badly she just wanted to be with you.

“Tay…” you breathlessly say out as the driver pulls into the hotel where you two are staying.

As soon as your car comes to a stop, Taylor is throwing the door open. She gives the driver a quick thank you, before she’s grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the car with her, her pace quick as she practically drags you through the lobby and into the elevator.

The elevator seems to move slower than normal, and Taylor’s patience is growing shorter and shorter with each passing second. Her hand is gripping yours hard, her eyes trained on you. She’s biting her lip again, the elevator ride suddenly seeming like an unbearable wait for her. “Come on, come on…” she mumbles under her breath, the elevator’s speed not nearly fast enough for her right now.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Taylor is practically pulling you out into the hallway and towards your room. She has the key ready, fumbling with the door for a few moments, before it finally opens, and she's pulling you into the room with her, shutting the door behind her with a thud.

As soon as the door closes, she’s already on you, shoving you up against the door, her arms on either side of you, pinning you in place. Her breathing is harsh and ragged, her eyes raking up and down your body, taking in every last inch of you in that dress.

“Did you buy this just for me?”

“Only bought it so you could take it off,” you tease with a shrug of your shoulders, referencing a lyric of hers.

Taylor’s lips parted, her gaze darkening as she took in your words. A smirk appeared on her face, and she moved forward, her body pressing up against yours. Her hand found your hip, grasping at the red fabric of the dress, her hand slowly gliding up and down your body.

“Oh, I’m gonna do a lot more than just take it off.”

She leaned in close, her mouth hovering just millimeters from yours, her hand gripping your hip hard enough to dig her nails into you. “I’m gonna ruin this dress.” She whispered, her eyes falling on your lips, her own mouth curling into a smirk.

Without another word, her mouth was on yours, hungrily. It was like she couldn’t get enough of you, like she couldn’t get you close enough. The kiss was needy and messy, a clear sign of how badly she wanted you right now. Her body was pressed flush against yours, her tongue sliding over your lip desperately.

Her hands slid up and down your body, her fingers digging into your skin, desperate for the feeling of flesh on flesh. She’s letting out little whimpers into the kiss, her body flush against yours, her hips grinding against you subtly, the action an attempt to relieve some of the need building in her body.

She finally pulls away, her breathing heavy, her eyes darting all over your face, taking in every inch of you. Her hands keep moving, running down your sides, fingers slipping under the dress to gently caress your thighs. Her voice is low and shaky when she finally speaks.

“You have no idea how insane you drive me, how much I need you right now.”

“Well I’m not exactly saying no, am I?”

Taylor groans, her lips finding your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. Her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of the dress as her mouth works down your neck, leaving little marks here and there. She bites down just enough to get a soft moan out of you, gently sucking the spot she just bit to make a mark.

Taylor grabs your hand, yanking you off the door, and pulls you over towards the bed. She pushes you down, the backs of your knees meeting the edge of the bed as your legs give way, and she straddles you, her hands running down your body.

She leans down, her mouth by your ear, and her hands continue to trail down, moving to the hem of the dress. She’s tracing the edge of it with her fingertips, a smirk on her face.

She’s taking her time, knowing full well how much it’s driving you crazy. Every touch of her hands feels like fire against you, the way her fingers just gently graze your skin sending a shiver up your body. She’s taking her time, and she likes it.

“God, this dress is too gorgeous on you.” she purrs, her hands slowly inching the dress up your thighs.

“I knew you’d like it…” you reply breathlessly.

She smiles, her hands gently gripping your thighs, her eyes trailing up the length of your body, admiring every inch of the dress.

“You always look amazing, but this…” she trails off, her voice shaky as she tries to find the words.

“This is driving me crazy.”

She’s slowly moving her hands up, the dress gathering around your waist. Her mouth is at your neck, kissing and biting the skin, her tongue working its way over you.

Taylor's fingers toy with the edges of lace panties she finds there, her hips grinding down into you subtly. Her lips find their way to yours again, her tongue slipping into your mouth as her hands continue to wander.

She can tell how badly you want her, how much you need her, but she wants to get you even more worked up. She takes her time, slowly moving the dress up your body just enough to expose your torso, her hands gently caressing the newly exposed skin.

“You’re so good to me, I need you so bad right now.” she murmurs into your neck, another small bite to the sensitive skin.

You hum intently into the kiss, feeling her everywhere, “Please,” you plead for her to do something. Anything.

Taylor’s hands grip your hips hard when you plead to her, her fingers digging into the bare skin, leaving red marks behind. Her breathing hitches, your begging getting to her just as expected.

“Please what?” she murmurs, her lips by your ear.

“You know exactly what.” you groan in frustration.

A soft chuckle escapes her lips as she hears your plea. She’s enjoying every second of this, the way you're begging for her, desperate for her to touch you. She knows exactly what you need, but she wants you to beg for it even more. She wants to drag this out.

"I want to hear you say it."

“Please touch me, Tay” you ask her.

Taylor's eyes darkened as the words left your lips. Her breath was heavy, her body flush against yours, her own need for you growing almost unbearable. She wanted to tease you some more, keep you on the edge, but when you begged her, she knew she couldn’t keep this up.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” she whispered, her mouth crashing into yours once more, hungrily.

Her hands slid up your body, sliding under the dress before her hand found its way to your chest, a gasp escaping your lips as her thumb ran over your hard nipple. 

Taylor was moving quickly now, knowing how desperate you were for her. She didn't want to make you wait any longer, not when she could hear the need in your voice, the way you were begging for her.

She pulled the dress up over your head and tossed it aside, her eyes immediately taking in the sight of you in nothing but lace panties and her favorite color.

“You look so pretty in red.” she murmured, her eyes roaming over you, taking in every inch of your body. Her hands found their way back to your inner thighs, her fingernails grazing the skin delicately.

She pressed her body flush against yours, one of her legs sliding between yours, her knee pressing up against you. She leaned down to whisper into your ear, her breath hot against your skin.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Oh, fuck…” you slightly moan as her knee presses against you, the much needed friction hitting you in the right place.

You nod frantically, “Yes, Taylor, please…” you respond to her.

A soft hum vibrates through her throat as she hears your words, hearing you needing her so badly was almost too much. Her mouth finds your neck, making her way down to your shoulder, her own breathing growing heavier.

“I love it when you ask so nicely.” She whispered against your skin, her knee pressing up even harder, making sure to get the perfect angle to make you moan for her.

She’s moving her mouth all over you, kissing and nipping at your skin, leaving a trail of red marks behind. Her hands are moving with her mouth, her soft fingers dancing over your body, making you shiver.

Taylor’s knee is pressing up even more, desperate to hear more of those little moans escape your lips, wanting to hear just how bad you need her as badly as she needs you right now.

“Fuck, Tay” you whimper out, “Do more, please. Stop teasing.”

Taylor’s eyes darkened, hearing you beg for her to do more, to stop teasing you. How could she refuse when you were pleading for her like that, she didn’t want either of you to wait anymore.

“You want me to stop teasing?” she practically purred, her knee pressing against you even more, just to hear that cute little whimper out of you again before she finally gave in to your pleads.

She pushed you down even further onto the bed, her body leaning over yours, her hips slowly grinding down into you. She leaned down to your ear again, her hot breath falling over your skin as she began to speak, her voice low and hoarse.

“You want me to touch you? You want me to make you feel good?” her hand was running its way up your thigh again, higher and higher with each passing moment.

“Yeah…” you almost plead.

Taylor’s hand slips between your legs, her fingers playing gently over the lace of your panties, barely touching you. She’s just toying with you right now, hearing your pleading moans and whimpers, loving the way you’re under her, like you’re just at her mercy completely.

“Is this what you want?” she practically whispered against the skin of your neck, nipping it gently.

“Mhm…” you react to her touch.

Taylor’s touch gets a bit rougher, still gently tracing the edge of your lace panties, the thin fabric the only thing keeping her from touching you the way you really want her to, the way you’re practically begging her to do.

She loves seeing you like this, pleading for her, under her, completely at her mercy. Her hand finally slides underneath the lace, her fingers gliding gently over your skin, hearing the little whimpers as she teases you.

Her teeth graze your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin, her tongue leaving little chills against you. Her fingers are working against you now, slipping through your slick folds, rubbing and pressing all the right places.

She loves being the cause of these soft little sounds, the moans and whimpers, the way your body is pressed against hers, writhing under her every touch. She can hear how badly you need her, and she’s just taking her time with you, enjoying how much she’s driving you crazy right now.

Her fingers press up against your clit, her touch rougher now, wanting to hear how much her touch is affecting you, hearing your little whimpers and moans.

Taylor’s watching every single reaction you make. The little gasps, the way your body is arching up into her touch, the way you’re moaning her name, she loves it. She loves seeing you come undone under her, it’s one of her favorite things. She’s relentless with her touch, her fingers rubbing and pressing against that sensitive little bud, desperate to make you come apart completely for her.

One of her fingers dips to trace your gaping hole, preparing you before slowly pushing one in. She curls it, hitting your wall just right.

You can practically feel her smile against your neck as she hears the sounds she’s pulling out of you. She loves hearing you moan for her, beg for her, the way you’re practically falling apart from her touch, how you’re practically at her mercy. You’re just exactly where she wanted you.

She slowly slides a second finger into you, her mouth gently nipping and sucking at your neck, her pace fast and deliberate, wanting you to get closer and closer.

“Shit!” you gasp as she adds the second finger, rutting your hips up into her hand, almost fucking yourself onto her.

Your little gasp and the way you grind your hips against her hand are almost too much for Taylor as her own body is aching, wanting to touch you everywhere, but she’s too focused on the way you’re falling apart for her right now.

“You like that?” she murmurs against your neck, her fingers curling and pumping into you, wanting to hear you moan for her more, needing to hear your pleading words.

“Yeah… you’re too good- fuck… to me, baby.”

Taylor’s lips find yours again, hungrily, kissing you fiercely as her fingers keep moving, pumping into you perfectly. She wants to make you feel good, she loves hearing how good she’s making you feel. The little gasps that are escaping your lips are just perfect to her.

She pulls her lips from your, her mouth by your ear as she whispered, “You’re all mine,” her fingers picking up the pace, wanting to hear you come undone for her.

Her head removes itself from your head, moving down your body. She reaches your panties, already pulled to the side, as she kitten licks your clit.

Taylor's tongue is working over you quickly, wanting to hear those moans and gasps fall from your lips. Her tongue knows just how to get you going.

Taylor’s grip on your thighs get tighter as she hears you moaning her name, loving just how good she’s making you feel. She’s working over your clit, her tongue hitting every sensitive place that makes your hips jerk up into her mouth.

She removes her mouth for a second, spitting on your pussy, then coming down and licking a flat stripe upon it. She flicks her tongue for a few seconds before puckering her mouth and sucking on your clit.

Taylor knows all of your weak spots, how to get you to fall completely to pieces with her tongue working over you, your moans and gasps growing louder by the second.

You hand darts out as you intertwine your fingers in her golden hair. Your hips rock against her fingers working inside of you and her mouth on your pussy, desperate to come.

Your fingers in her hair are sending tingles down Taylor’s spine, she loves how much you’re needing them everywhere on you right now, how you’re holding on to her, like you can’t get enough of her hands. She can hear you, she’s taking you right to the edge.

She can hear your breathing getting heavier, almost faster, the little whimpers and gasps escaping your lips between moans of her name, and it’s all she needs. She’s right there with you, so close to the edge, and all she needs is to hear you fall apart for her.

“Oh, fuck! Tay I’m so, so, so close! Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!” you pathetically whine out.

Taylor’s head dives back down between your legs, not stopping for anything. Her tongue is working over you, wanting to hear you come apart, needing to hear you come apart.

The grip of your fingers in her hair is getting tighter, and she can tell you’re right there, on the very edge, about to fall over, and she’s desperate to hear it, she’s desperate to hear her name falling from your lips as you come.

“Holy shit I’m gonna come…” you whip your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, her pace on you continuing to be relentless.

All Taylor can hear now is the sound of you moaning her name, desperate, pleading for her to continue as you’re right on the edge, about to come. Her pace is picking up, her hand gripped tight around your thighs, your legs beginning to shake just a little under her touch. She can hear you growing louder, the sound of her name falling from your lips just so beautiful to her.

“Tay!” you scream as you feel your legs start to shake more aggressively, your orgasm overtaking you.

Taylor’s eyes dart up to watch you fall apart. The sound of her name leaving your lips as you come is absolutely perfect to her, hearing and seeing just how good she’s made you feel, how the pleasure is overtaking you. You sound so beautiful like this, she loves every second of it. She slows down her fingers, still keeping her mouth on you, wanting to get every last moan she can out of you before she finally pulls away.

She’s gently kissing your inner thighs as she feels your body shaking, feeling the aftershocks as you slowly come down from your orgasm. She gently pulls her fingers from you, her lips making their way back up your body, leaving a trail of gentle kisses against your skin as she moves upward.

“Oh, fuck…” you say breathlessly, coming down.

Taylor's smiling against the skin of your neck with your words, still planting soft kisses all over your body. Her fingers trace delicately along your skin, feeling the way you shudder slightly with her touch. She's so happy knowing how good she's made you feel, she loves hearing you still trying to catch your breath.

Her lips finally reach yours, gently capturing them in a kiss, soft and sweet. Her hands are still on your skin, pulling your body closer to hers. She pulls away for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, her eyes closed, a soft smile on her face.

She’s enjoying this, being tangled up with you, just feeling you against her. There’s no rush, no need to do anything more right now. She’s happy just laying here with you, her fingers tracing circles lightly on your back, taking in the moment.

“So…” she starts, “You only bought the dress for me to take it off?"

[c-cobweb]

𝓑e a freak like me too ⋮ jimmy darling

ᡣ𐭩 . warnings ᯓ +18 mdni!, smut, pwp, fem!virgin!reader, make out, age gap (not specified but everyone is over 18), fingering. a/n ᯓ english is not my first lenguage!

───────── ⋆⋅🕸️⋅⋆ ─────────

Your life was monotonous and boring, with strict parents who only let you leave the house for college things and no little siblings to play with. Everything was like that until one day the circus of monstrosites arrived in the city, and your father decided to take you and your mother to see what show they could offer.

Excited, you dressed in a beautiful white dress with pink flowers that they gave you for your 18th birthday, you subtly made up with a pink eye shadow and a gloss on your lips, you were ready to go out.

. . .

You got out of your father’s car and looked around, both excited and scared of what could happen there.

“Come on, honey, or we’ll be late,” your mother warned you while she and your father were starting to walk towards the circus.

You ran after them until you reached them and got by their side. Once inside the circus you were amazed, everything was full of colours and lights, the typical circus music sounded in the background while children rode the attractions, you were fascinated.

You approached the entrance of the tent of the show, your father paid for the tickets and you sat in the front row to be able to see the spawns up close.

. . .

The show was halfway through and everything was spectacular, you were delighted with those people with deformities. Everything was going perfectly until Jimmy Darling, the lobster boy, appeared on stage.

You were damned with his beauty, so much so that you overlooked the deformity of his hands. He began his monologue as usual and at one point you clashed looks, making him wink and make you blush, you just wish your parents hadn’t realised.

. . .

At the end of the performance everyone got up from the seat and left the tent, including you and your family. You escaped for a moment saying that you would go to the bathroom to actually go in search of that handsome boy who had darned you with his charms.

After a couple of minutes looking for him, you found him about to enter his caravan and accelerated the pace until you reached him.

“Mr. Darling?” You said once you were behind him, touching his shoulder to get his attention. He turned confused about who was calling him until he saw you and smiled.

“Oh, you, you’re the girl in the front row, right? What’s your name?” He said and you nodded your head, telling him your name.

“I just wanted to tell you that I loved your show, it was wonderful” you smiled cheerfully as you put your hands behind your back.

“You’re such a sweetheart. No girl had come before after a performance to congratulate me,” he replied winking at you once again, making you blush and look the other way briefly.

“Well, just... just wanted to tell you that. I’m leaving now” you said goodbye with your hand and turned around to go back to your parents.

“Wait!” You heard Jimmy’s voice behind you and turned your head to look at him “Is it okay if we see each other someday?”

You were very excited when he asked you that, you were excited to be able to spend more time with him.

“Of course yes,” you replied with a wide smile.

“Perfect, is it okay if we meet in the ‘Coffee and Jhons’ cafeteria? It’s a good place to see each other” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

In your head you were already making a plan to be able to leave the house without your parents knowing that you were going to see a boy, much less could they know that that boy was a spawn.

“Okay, I’ll see you there tomorrow at 12 am?” You said this time with a small smile.

. . .

You had deceived your parents by saying that you were going to your friend Alice’s house to study when you were actually about to reach your meeting point with Jimmy.

Your stomach was full of butterflies, you had never lied to your parents before, much less to go see a boy. But it wasn’t just any boy, it was Jimmy Darling.

You entered the cafeteria and looked around you until you found Jimmy sitting on one of the stools at the bar, waiting for you. You approached him from behind and touched his shoulder making him turn around.

“Hello Jimmy” You greeted with a small smile, you were very nervous.

“Hi darling” He said grabbing your hand and leaving a kiss on it, to which in response your cheeks were coloured.

When he saw how you blushed, Jimmy smiled from ear to ear making his cheekbones stand out. You sat on the stool next to him and asked for a cherry coke to drink and a cupcake, while he asked for a beer.

You immediately realised the leather gloves that covered his hands, and you frowned confused. “Why are you wearing those gloves?” You asked delicately, without wanting to offend him.

“Well, as you know, I have lobster hands and many people could be scared to see them,” he replied while still smiling.

You took one of his hands and stroked it over the glove. “I’m not scared of your hands” you said as you looked him in the eyes with a soft smile, which warmed his heart.

. . .

It had already been several weeks since your secret meeting with Jimmy, and you did not stop running away from home to go see him at any time. This time he had rented a motel room just for the two of you. Were you nervous? Yes, and a lot.

You stalled through the window of your room and ran down the street where Jimmy was waiting for you with his motorcycle.

“Hello, darling,” he said when you rode behind him on the motorcycle and grabbed his waist so you didn’t fall. “Ready to go?”

The road to the motel was quiet, it was night so there were not many people on the street and you could enjoy a small walk before reaching your destination.

You entered the reception of the motel and Jimmy asked for the key to your room and then go to the elevator to go to your room.

“You look beautiful today, more than usual” He said while the elevator doors closed.

“Thank you very much,” you answered with a smile while blushing, his flirtatious comments always made you blush.

He approached you and placed one hand on your cheek and the other on your waist, curiously today he was not wearing his leather gloves. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in a whisper as he brought his face closer to yours, to which you nodded.

He kissed your lips gently, he knew it was your first kiss and didn’t want to scare you. You corresponded to the kiss, nervous but excited.

The elevator doors opened, this time leaving you on the floor of your room. Jimmy slowly separated from you, “Come on” said as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the room.

Once inside the room he closed the door and kissed you again, but this time with more passion. You opened your eyes surprised at his action, you didn’t expect such a hungry kiss after that sweet kiss he had given you minutes ago.

He guide you to the bed, making you both sit on it while you were still kissing. You followed the kiss shyly until you gained more confidence, that’s when Jimmy licked your lower lip to ask for permission and be able to put his tongue in your vocal cavity, which you agreed to.

Your tongues were dancing inside your mouths in a heated and exciting kiss. Jimmy grabbed your shoulders and gently pushed you until your back collided with the bed mattress, leaving you lying down.

His large fused hands walked through your body being careful not to touch any inappropriate place until it reached your waist, stopping there and separating slightly from the kiss. “Is everything okay?” He asked looking into your eyes to make sure you were comfortable.

“Yes Jimmy, I’m great” You confirmed with a smile as you rested one of your hands on his cheek and raised your head to kiss him again.

He reciprocated the kiss gladly and his hands moved around your body again, this time leaving them right on your thighs and putting them a little under your dress. His thumbs drew small figures on your inner thighs while his hands moved very slowly — so as not to alarm you — towards your centre.

When the tips of his fingers grazed your underwear you shuddered and separated from the kiss, looking at Jimmy a little scared.

“Shh, don’t worry, darling” He tried to reassure you as he lowered his kisses to your neck and hid his face there. “Can I?” He asked as he wrapped his fingers in the strip of your panties, to which you nodded.

He slowly lowered the garment down your legs, caressing them in the process. “Tell me, honey, have you ever touched yourself down there?” He asked by taking his face out of your neck to look into your eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yes, but only a couple of times” You replied embarrassed as you looked away from him, to which Jimmy laughed.

“It’s fine. Does it bother you if I touch you?” You bit your lower lip repressing a smile at how understanding and respectful he was.

“Yes, please touch me” You begged slightly as you looked at him again with big and bright eyes.

Jimmy did not hesitate to start caressing your clit with two of his fused fingers to prepare you, to which you covered your mouth with both hands to repress the sounds that threatened to come out of your throat.

“Oh, pretty girl, let those beautiful sounds come out, I want to hear you moan” He said without any qualms making you blush, but you listened to him and took your hands away from your face.

His fingers went from caressing your clit to surrounding your entrance, which made you let out a little gasp. “Jimmy...” you whispered as your breathing agitated.

“Are you ready?” He asked leaving a small kiss on your cheek, you nodded and he began to put his fused fingers through your entrance very delicately so as not to hurt you.

You closed your eyes and hissed slightly while your fists clung to the sheets. At first it hurt a little but then the pain was replaced by pleasure little by little.

Your back bent over and moans and more prominent sighs began to come out of your mouth, your hands clung to Jimmy’s biceps while your face contoured with pleasure. Jimmy looked at your face with a big smile, proud of himself for causing you so much pleasure with just his fingers.

His wide fingers caused you an indescribable pleasure, they widened your vaginal walls deliciously. You couldn’t stop moaning loudly, and you were surprised when his thumb began to caress your clit again.

“Jimmy... I- I think I’m going to come” That phrase made him smile even more, and he began to speed up his movements.

“I know honey, I can feel it,” he said as he began to kiss your jaw and leave a path of kisses up to your neck. “You just let yourself go, let it go”

It didn’t take you much longer to finish, moaning his name loudly and closing your eyes tightly. Jimmy laughs slightly when he took his fingers out of your intimacy and saw how wet they were, and then put them in his mouth and savour your juices.

“Jimmy! Don’t do that...” You said covering your face with both hands because of the shame.

“Why wouldn’t I do it? You are delicious” He let out a little laugh at your reaction and then lay down next to you, passing an arm behind your shoulders and curling up with you. “Now let’s rest for a while, it’s been a very trying moment... but don’t think I’m done with you” He said the latter giving you a small spanking.

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mlist , bots

 c-cobweb 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[therealbatgirlishere]

Trips in. (Tripin.) p1!

First fic! Kindness or constructive criticism is allowed. No req 🫶🏽

miles morales e-42 aged up! X bb mama reader aged up! miles age: 23 readers age: 22

context: you and Miles had broken up, due to a bad fight (petty argument) with a bad outcome, but anyways It’s been months and you’ve both pretty much moved on…right? Well, after you had finished getting dolled up to have a fun night with you and your girls, you had to drop your son off.. as you were planning to leave you might have been a bit.. interrupted?

You were chilling, just having finished your makeup and hair, you were going out with your girlfriends so you wanted to look nice as usual. Miles was comin in to take you n his kid,  sure. It’s a bit awks having to still communicate with the baby daddy after you both broke up but hey, at least your boy got a dad in his life. You were packing your sons things, placing clothes in his little bag, spare shoes a toothbrush and more, including a small treat for the road (a twix or stm Wtv u want.) after you had finished, you called your boy over. 

“Zion! ven aquí!” You shouted from upstairs, seconds later you heard the pitter patter of tiny feet coming up the stairs, your child then poking his head out of the door. 

“Mama?” Zion asked, in his cute lil voice you could see his little brown fro poking out as well as his eyes. You smiled, “Zion, you ready to see your papa?” You questioned, lips curling upwards. Zion gave a small nod. Cute. Your 4 year old son waddled his way over to you and gave you a hug, small arms wrapping around your knees and face dig into your legs. You patted your sons head.

 “Alright, I’ll put your bag on so you’re all ready.” You then picked up your son and settled him down on his comfy race car bed. He looked up at you, when you really looked at him, you could see miles, a resemblance between him and you in there…what were you just thinking? No. Stop thinking about that man. Focus. you were halfway through putting on his bag.

Knock knock knock

The sound echoed through the house, you had a feeling it was him, who am I kidding it was him. But, you had to make sure. 

“Zion,  stay here okay? I’ll call you down if papas here.” You said, holding his shoulders and being eye to eye with him before pecking his forehead quick and softly, then making your way downstairs and to the door, you were calm. Why wouldn’t you be? Face blank as you headed to the door.

Click.. creeeakkk

You opened the door, and there he was the 6’3 tall dark skinned male, mini Two-Strand twists,   the same blank expression as always. Wearing a white coloured wife beaters n a black zip up jacket with loose fit jeans, a silver chain and ring on his finger. 

(If ur wondering why he looks different it’s because he’s aged up, so ofc he would get taller and want to switch his hairstyle up etc. dw tho you can still imagine him looking the same ig.)

“…” he stared down at you,  hands in his pockets a lacklustre expression on his face as he then looks behind you. Searching for his son.

Where’s Zion at?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks behind you still. Wow. Rude much? 

The man can’t even be bothered to say hi to the mother of his child.

“Well, Hi to you too. Miles.” You reply, giving him a sarcastic smile before rolling your eyes and turning your head back towards the house.

 “Zion! Your dads here!” You called him over, your son then poked his head out, a grin from ear to ear appeared as he then let out a small giggle. He then ran down the stairs, loud thumping being heard as he made his way down. 

“Ay.” You sucked your teeth in slight annoyance when you saw him running to fast down the stairs, almost tripping but saving himself. 

“Hijo, don’t run down the stairs you’ll fall.” You scolded him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he went to go hug your knees again, nodding a bit then looked up at his dad. 

“He’s jus a kid Chica.” Miles said, looking at you. What an ass. He still had that deadpan expression going on. You shook your head slightly and scowled.

“Just looking out for my son.” You replied, scowling removed as you looked back at him, crossing your arms. Jeez, did he have to be this annoying? You questioned in your head.

“You mean our, son.” He responded, then stared slightly more closely to your face, his eyebrows then knit together. “You wearin makeup? And what’s up with yo fit and hair?” He asked, staring you up and down as he pointed. Does he have to know every single little thing about you? 

This is p1 cause I can’t be bothered writing the rest 😜

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 05: Buried Alive

Simon Riley x gn! reader

A/N: Laptop finally fixed but now I'm sick!! Motivation at zero too but I hope y'all enjoy.

You woke gasping for air, coughing as your lungs filled with dust particulate. Taste was the first of your senses to return, an unpleasant mix of ash and plaster stuck to the linings of your mouth. 

Your head aches something fierce and though your vision is still slightly blurry you can still see the blood that covers your fingers from after you’d touched your hairline. The ringing in your ears is almost unbearable and it makes your head ache even more.

Your memories are even hazier than your vision and it takes more than a few minutes before you remember where you are. You remember Gaz’s voice, far more frantic than was typical of the usually cool man, as he’d yelled at you to get out of the building. 

You think you’d only made it about halfway down from the top before the bomb went off. In hindsight, it’s probably the reason you’re still alive and not completely buried under five floors' worth of building materials. 

Some might call it lucky that you hadn’t been outright crushed or even blown up in the initial blast. But as you lay there in pain unable to do anything but slowly die you can’t find it in yourself to agree. 

Though you’d probably die soon, whether from blood loss or lack of oxygen, there’s a sudden groan from the structure surrounding you and for a brief moment you think you might just get crushed after all. 

Tears slip from your eyes both from the pain and despair. You don’t want to die, not like this, cold and alone buried beneath tonnes of cement, but you know you will. 

The little movement you have in your neck is used to try and orient yourself to your surroundings, the darkness and dust greatly hindering your efforts. Any more attempts to move are instantly thwarted by a mix of sharp pain and weight bearing down on your body. Specifically your left leg, it’s too dark to see all that well but you can tell your leg is pinned by a slab of what used to be the wall. Or maybe the ceiling.

It was so painful that you quickly gave up, not wanting your last moments to be spent in that much pain. All in all, you were fucked. 

As you lay dying you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to your lieutenant. You wondered how he’d react to your untimely death. As terrible and selfish as it was for you to even consider, you hoped he’d mourn at least a little. 

Simon Riley had wormed his way into your heart and you doubted he’d ever leave. You just wish you could have told him, told him that to you, he was the sun. 

There’s a slight crackle and through the ringing in your ears, you hear what you think is Price’s baritone echoing around the space. Somehow your radio has survived the blast, but as you try and pinpoint its location it quickly becomes clear you won’t be able to reach it to respond. 

You almost don’t even try, it’s not until you hear Simon yelling that an ounce of your energy returns. Maybe if you could just reach the radio… then you could tell him how you felt. 

Reaching out, you stretch your fingertips through the darkness, your muscles straining and shaking in protest. There’s a concerning creak and more dust and gravel sprinkles over you in another shower as your movements unsettle the collapsed pile surrounding you. 

Still, you refuse to stop and eventually, your fingertips clasp over their target and you pull it close, even as something in your pinned knee cracks and you let out a shriek of pain. Dragging the radio towards you shakily you manage to form two words before the pain catches up once more. 

“East stairwell.” Instantly there's chaos over the coms once more, hardly anything you can make out over Price barking orders and Soap’s colourful swearing. Black dots are splotching in your vision and your lungs work in overtime to collect air once more. 

The pain is blinding and you want so badly to just pass out and be free from it all but your traitorous body won’t let you. 

Above you, Simon is digging through the rubble furiously, blood roaring in his ears as he screams at his teammates to help him. His throat is raw and his fingers are bloody but he refuses to give up, continuing to speak through the comms, to let you know that he was coming for you. 

Simon has had a lot of shitty, earth-shattering moments in his life but as he sifts through cement and rubble in a desperate search for you he thinks this might be the worst. From the moment it had become clear you hadn’t made it out in time it was like the earth had been pulled from beneath his feet. 

His face is wet, and it’s not until Soap and Price collectively manhandle him away from the rubble that he realises he’s crying. He’s screaming at the both of them, words he can’t even hear and Soap’s right eye is already starting to blacken from where Simon had socked him. 

They’re trying to talk him down, getting him to sit and breathe but Simon doesn’t even feel like he’s in his own body anymore. He can’t hear anything through the ringing and pounding, can’t see anything except the image his brain conjures of you lying dead or dying and so alone. 

He wonders if you’d called for him. You always did, even if nobody else realised. Whenever you were overwhelmed, stressed or in danger it was his name that came to you first, and he always answered. Always. 

He’s standing once more, trying to push past his captain and Soap who are still trying to corral him away from the site. He didn’t understand why they were preventing him from helping you. Simon would always come when you called, he needed you to know that he’d come to save you. He needed-

Gaz is shouting something and it takes the two men holding him back by enough surprise that Simon manages to muscle his way through. He doesn’t hear what Gaz said, but as he gets closer he realises it doesn’t matter because he can see you. 

Bruised, bloodied and covered in dust and ash but he can see you. 

He drops to his knees by your side, ignoring the sting of whatever sharp object he’d landed on and cups your face with shaky hands. Gloved fingers run delicately over your skin as he wipes away the grime. He’s begging you to open those pretty eyes, to let him see that you’re ok. 

You don’t hear or answer his pleas, and Simon remains rooted to the spot, desperately taking in every last inch of your face and committing it to memory, even as your blood stains his pants and gloves. 

[hyunsvngs]

READ PART 1 FIRST!

continue straight ahead

It had been so dark for so long. But over there, if you strayed from the path just a little, there was a break in the canopy of trees above. Rays of gold filtered through the leaves, and something deep within your chest told you not to leave the path, whatsoever. But it was oh-so-enticing, the thought of stepping into that light and perhaps even feeling just a little bit of warmth spill onto your skin…

Your legs were moving before you could stop them. With each step, your surroundings transform. The black and grey shadows gave way to hues of pink and purple. How could this be possible, so deep in the forest? Your will to question this wasn't quite strong enough. You felt so light, so floaty, so warm.

There was a ring of mushrooms, outlining the clearing, red and white. It may have been a trick of the light, but you could've sworn they sparkled. You stepped over them, into the light.

"Hello, darling."

A man? No. No man was this beautiful. A creature, an angel. A fairy?

He was lounging on a large, flat rock, glowing beneath the sunlight. His feet were bare, toes curling. His legs were slender and ever so long, poking out from beneath a brown, suede-looking skirt. His blouse was white and worn, unbuttoned halfway down his smooth, hairless chest. He was toying with a violet, the petals so bright they hurt your eyes. The further up his body your eyes travelled, the more intoxicated you felt. His features were sharp, all angles and lines, yet there was a softness to him. His cheeks were as rosy as his lips, his eyelashes longer than you'd ever seen before. His ears were pointed where they poked out of his long, blonde hair, cascading down past his shoulders and intertwined with flowers. 

"Who are you?"

He simply smiled. "How did you get here?"

You tried to think backwards, but your memory was getting hazy. "I… I don't know. I just woke up here. In the forest."

The fairy chuckled lazily. "That might be my doing, love." 

Your eyebrows furrowed. It was like you had to fight twice as hard just to think. "What, you brought me here?" 

He shrugged. "Maybe. What does it matter? Come over here." 

At his words, you felt a tug deep in your abdomen, as though he'd hooked an invisible scythe to you and was pulling. 

"What if I don't want to?" you asked, though your own words startled you. Where did they come from? Of course you wanted to get closer to him.

He laughed, bigger this time, his smile meeting his eyes. "Oh, don't be silly. Come."

You didn't register yourself moving, but suddenly you were in front of him. You loomed above him, as he lay on the rock, though you still felt utterly powerless.

"What can I call you?" you asked, then felt silly for asking. 

"Hyunjin," he said. It sounded like his first time speaking the name. "You can call me Hyunjin."

"Have you hypnotised me, Hyunjin?"

He raised his hand, his index finger landing on your lips. "Shhh. Look up at the sky, my darling."

You ignored the electric tingle in your lips, and followed his direction, reluctantly tearing your gaze from him and tilting your head up. Through the trees, with their rose and peach-coloured leaves, you saw. 

"Purple. It's - the sky is purple." 

"That's right, sweetheart, well done." You could hear the smile in his voice as he praised you, and you didn't dare look at him in fear you'd fall deeper. "And the clouds?"

"So pink," you murmured.

"Do you want to feel the way those clouds feel?" He had dropped the violet he'd been twirling between his fingers, his hands laying to rest on your waist instead. 

There was nothing you could do but nod.

"Then come here, my sweetheart. Let me help you get there." 

He spun you around, and you were sitting between his legs on the rock. It didn't feel hard beneath you, somehow. It was like sitting on a cloud. Hyunjin's hands moved from your waist, his fingertips sliding under your shirt and dancing across your tummy.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath tickling your ear. 

It was difficult for you to check in with how you felt; your mind and body felt so disconnected. Not in a bad way, not at all. You just felt… far away. "Light. I feel light."

"I can make you feel better than you've ever felt before. Would you like me to do that?"

You didn't even need to think about the answer. You needed it. "Yes please, Hyunjin."

All of a sudden, your shirt was coming off and your bare back was pressed up against Hyunjin's chest, soft but firm. The air was warm on your skin, and you didn't know if the flowery, powdery scent was coming from Hyunjin or the flora around you, but you were enamoured with it. 

His hands made you feel tiny. You looked down and watched as they cupped your breasts, squeezing them. He found your nipples and pinched them, rolling them between his fingertips. It sent shockwaves throughout your entire body, and you could barely breathe. You choked at the feeling, feeling as though your chest were collapsing - it was more than you could ever possibly handle. The tingling sensation was so warm, stronger than a thousand orgasms and all he was doing was tweaking your nipples.

"Breathe, darling," he urged you. "In and out." 

You steadied your breathing, grounding yourself, focusing in on the pleasure bursting from within you. "What are you?" you panted.

"I'm yours. That's all you need to worry about."

Hyunjin dipped his head, his nose bumping against the skin below your ear. It traced a line downwards, right into the sweet spot where your neck ended and your shoulder began. He kissed you, making you moan out loud with just his plump, pink lips. 

His fingertips made their way down your torso, tickling your tummy and passing over your hip bones. When did you become naked? you wondered. In all honesty, you didn't really care. Hyunjin's fingers were dancing across your pubic bone, then reaching between your thighs, spreading them. You hooked them over his own legs, fully spread for him. 

"Oh, look at you," he whispered, chin on your shoulder. He spread your pussy lips, exploring what you had to offer. 

"Am I pretty?" you asked, heart racing.

"Prettier than every flower I've ever seen," he agreed.

He plunged two of his slender fingers inside your pussy, and you writhed under his touch, throwing your head back against him. It was more intense than anything you'd ever felt before. You couldn't handle it, yet at the same time you wanted to stay here, feeling this way, for the rest of your life.

"How are you doing this?" you whined, your body thrashing with each pump of his fingers. He was playing with your g-spot so accurately that the pleasure almost hurt. It was beyond overwhelming. Nobody had ever made you feel like this before.

Hyunjin only laughed in response, kissing your neck again. "Are you enjoying it?"

"Y- Oh, fuck, yeah," you stammered. The pleasure was so immense that it felt like one ongoing orgasm. When did you start cumming? you wondered. And when would you stop?

"Do you want more?" There was a mischievous lilt to Hyunjin's voice. 

"Are you gonna fuck me?" you asked, equal parts terrified and excited. You could barely handle two fingers, how would you possibly tolerate his dick?

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you back on the flat bed of the stone. You watched as he unbuttoned his blouse (the last few buttons that were hanging on, at least) and unlaced his skirt. His skin almost sparkled in the sun, bright and dazzling. His pecs, his toned abdomen, his waist, his hips, his… his dick.

"What is that?" you asked, voice hoarse. You stared at it, wide-eyed. It was long, must have been twelve inches at the very least. The tip was pale pink, a broad mushroom bulging at the top of the shaft, with the prettiest little slit at the top. The shaft just went on and on, delicate lavender veins twirling around it, all the way down until it met his balls, hanging softly beneath. "It's beautiful."

"I know," Hyunjin said with a smile.

"I… I can't take that, Hyunjin. That's too big, I'm… I don't know who you've fucked before, but I'm just a human. It's too much for me." 

Hyunjin ignored your slightly panicked babbling, hovering over you where you lay. His long blonde hair fell into your face, tickling you. "Look into my eyes." 

You did so. They were black, at first glance. Until pale lilac streaked through the pools, softening them. Rosy pink tones joined the mix, marbling the colours. You felt immediately calmer, pure relaxation flooding your system.

"Three…" You felt Hyunjin spread your legs. You didn't look away from his eyes.

"Two…" You felt him bumping at the entrance to your pussy. He lay his forehead against yours, and all you could see were the swirling colours. Hyunjin disappeared, the forest disappeared. 

"One." 

The feeling was back - you were cumming again. His dick was inside you - how far inside, you didn't know. It could've been a single inch, for all you knew, or it could've been the whole thing. He could be gutting you with it this very second, tearing apart your insides, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. His dick was even more magical than his fingers. 

"Does that feel okay?" he asked. At his words, he came back into frame - you could see again. His expression was so calm, not a single crease or line across his porcelain-perfect face. 

"Good - feels good," you said with a nod. "I - am I cumming? Have I been cumming this whole time?"

"Of course, darling."

"Are you inside me? All the way?" 

Hyunjin gave you another gentle smile. "Why don't you look?" He sat up, and his slender frame was no longer obscuring your view.

You had no idea what to say. He was inside you - to the fucking hilt. It didn't make sense, he shouldn't fit inside you so easily. There shouldn't be such a lack of resistance. Logic said that he should surely be perforating your cervix at this length. 

Logic? Logic was out of the window. You were laying on a stone, in a forest clearing, making love to the most beautiful being you'd ever seen. You were experiencing a continuous orgasm so strong that you could barely feel your body, yet at the same time you could feel it immensely. 

Hyunjin pulled his dick out of you, slowly, until just his mushroom tip was left inside. The shaft was dripping, coated in your cream. He thrusted back into you gently, further and further. You felt him deep inside you. He just kept sliding further, impossibly deeper. Your tummy bulged, and you could see the glow of his cockhead inside.

"I don't understand," you mewled, spit dribbling from the corner of your lips.

Hyunjin caressed your cheek. "Stop trying to understand. Just feel." 

You reached out to touch him, your hands exploring his skin. You touched his shoulders, so strong yet so soft, the muscles bulging beneath your hands. He felt like a cloud. You touched his face, his perfect pretty face, his expression remaining unchanged as you sobbed beneath him. How could he be so calm?

"Does-" you hiccuped. "Does it feel good for you? Hyunjin?"

"Yes, sweetheart." His voice was still, even as he was fucking you. "I don't do things that don't feel good."

You felt as though you were on top of the fucking world. You felt unstoppable, untouchable. You were making this man - this creature, this fairy - feel good. Your mind floated away from you. He hadn't lied; you felt just like the bright pink clouds in the sky.

"Do you love me, Hyunjin?" you asked, silly grin on your face. 

Hyunjin looked at you blankly. "In a way." 

He wiped your cheek with a single finger, following the tracks your tears had painted. "Your tears are so pretty." He lifted the finger to his lips, licking it. He threw his head back, closing his eyes tight, the first real display of pleasure you'd seen from him.

"Are - Are you gonna c-cum?" you asked, choking out each word. 

"Yes, my darling," he said, and you heard just a slight strain to his voice. "I'm going to cum." 

You gripped his biceps, steadying yourself. He looked deep into your eyes. Those gorgeous, ever-changing orbs disappeared from your view, the pinks and purples and blacks evaporating. His eyes were solid white, and held more emotion than you'd seen from the man so far. His eyebrows furrowed deeply. He was cumming.

You quickly realised that you hadn't been cumming this whole time - this was the peak. You felt his ethereal cock cum inside you, felt his seed spurt out of his slit and into your pussy. There was an impossible amount, flooding your body. It tingled, made your pussy throb in ways it never had before. Your entire body was on fire. 

"Thank you, love." He pulled out of you, and you whined at how empty you felt. You swore you'd feel empty until the day you died, if you never felt his cock again. 

His cum was spilling out of your pussy. You frowned, wanting to keep it all inside you, a memento of your time together; but your discontent couldn't last long. It was entrancing. His cum wasn't white but silver, and glowing. It was more like smoke than a man's seed, curling out of you and flying away.

"Don't worry, darling," he spoke with a smile. "There's some inside you, still. Deep inside." Could he read your mind? Had he been reading it this whole time?

"What happens now?" you asked, a sudden panic gripping your chest. "Will I see you again?"

Hyunjin grinned at you. His teeth looked sharp, pointed. You didn't blink, not even when your eyes burned. You couldn't look away for even a second, you had to absorb the sight of him. His glowing skin, his angular jaw, his now-white eyes. His pale blonde hair, cascading in waves down his back. 

He leaned in, and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Goodbye, love."

And with that, as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone.

[deepestnightcolor]

PLEASE MORE OF SAM FLUFF PLS PLS PLS

ᴀ/ɴ: Thou ask and thou shall receive!~ Thank you so much for your request, love!

I hope this is okay, I've become quite rusty when it comes to fluff. I hope you enjoy! Also, to everyone suffering of pollen allergies - much strength to you. Blondie is suffering with you.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x GN!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 1373 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None, just fluff!

☾ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴘʀɪɴɢ ☽

The warming rays of the spring's sun tickled your nose the moment you stepped out of your farm house. Spring was about halfway over, but still in its complete beauty.

You looked at your fields with a content look in your eyes. The seeds you had spread over the tilled ground had stretched out their green leaves, some of them would soon be ready to harvest, would need nothing more but a bit more of the tender sun and the water that was coating their complex beauty from the sprinkler already running this morning.

Butterflies were dancing through the air that was drenched in the sweet aroma of nature coming to life and blooming in its bright, cheerful colors, breezes of gentle wind wafting the scent towards you coaxing you to step forward.

A glance to your right made you see that your cows and chickens had found their ways outside by now, hungry mouths and beaks tugging at stems of grass that carried a lush green colour. The bursts of rain that had fallen on the Valley the last few days had done nature a favor, you thought, a smile on your lips.

You picked up the bucket you had brought outside with you, making your way over to their pasture.

"Good morning, ladies," you called out, chuckling as a chorus of moos greeting you in return. Betty and Moonalisa looked great today, and it filled you with a sense of pride to know it was your care that made the bond between you so strong. Scratching the cows' heads, you chatted quietly to them. Told them what had happened to you yesterday. You had seen Sam, you told them. He had taken you out on a date, and you still felt the giddiness of the last night rush through your veins.

Even as you were milking them you chattered about the blond, the twitch of spotted ears giving you the feeling of being listened to by your friends. When the bucket was full, you gave each cow a small treat as you thanked them, bringing the bucket to the shed to fill it in the machine that would make it become cheese in a matter of hours.

It didn't take long for you to enter the coop, greeting Julie and Lana with the same excitement you had done with the cows. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers, listening to the cluckering as the two hens picked at the ground. "You are very pretty today," you told them with a nod, "did you do something with your feathers?"

Cluckering sounds answering you made you chuckle.

Once you had allowed Sam to follow your morning routine because he had woken up as early as you had, and your boyfriend had watched you with an amused smirk on his face. When you had asked him why he looked at you like that, all he gave you was the shrug of his shoulders.

"It's cute how you treat your animals. Makes me appreciate you more, y'know? Shows you care."

He had kissed your head and crouched down to tell one of your hens that her eyes were gorgeous, and the other that she walked with great grace. The compliments seemed so genuine, so warm, they didn't leave you a choice but to kiss Sam right then and there, because you knew you could trust him. Even with silly little things like talking to your animals in front of him.

"I'll check on you again tonight!" You called towards them, your hands filled with the two large eggs you had found in the coop. After putting them in their respective machines, you decided to make your way to town. You had some ggeodes you wanted Clint to break open, and maybe you could visit Sam with a pizza for lunch.

However, the sound of someone sneezing made you raise your brow. That had been a loud sneeze.

You pushed your hands in the pockets of your overall, holding onto the fabric as you tilted your head. Waited. Maybe it was one of your animals? You had heard Moonalisa sneeze once, it had been louder than you would have ever guessed. Or you had just-

ACHOO.

Okay, you had definitely not imagined that, but it hadn't come from behind you, either. With your face still scrunched up in confusion, you walked towards town, perhaps you would find the sneezer there?

But you didn't even have to go so far, because looking to your right, you saw a mess of blond hair and a familiar blue jacket.

Your boyfriend stood hunched over in the field of lowers near the bus stop. A small bouquet was already in his right hand, the other traced through the tender sea of pedals and leaves. "S-"

ACHOO.

The sneeze shook the man's whole body, making him groan out loud. "Fuckin' allergies," his voice grumbled, but it sounded strained. Probably from all the sneezing he had been suffering through.

"I like you, you flowery pieces of death, why can't you fuckin' like me back?"

"Maybe they don't like you plucking them?" You joked, making the blond twirl around to look at you.

His eyes were teary and red, his nose was red, and he seemed defeated. However, a smile spread on his face just a few seconds later.

"Can't be it, they try to kill me even if I don't pluck them," he laughed, leaning down and picking up another flower, tenderly adding it to the bouquet. You watched him, biting down on your lower lip. "Just out of curiosity, why are you in a field of things that kick off your allergy?"

Sam gave you a sheepish grin, mouth open to answer your very valid question, though the sneeze that tore through him was faster. A groan left his mouth as he grimaced, rubbing his eyes and then his nose, only to realize what he had just done. The pollen on his hand led to another sneezing fit. You reached out your hand and slowly pulled him away from the flowers, pulling out some tissues to dab at his teary eyes carefully.

"Because of the tradition," he answered when his breathing seemingly had steadied. "Tradition? What tradition?"

Again, your boyfriend carried this sheepish look on his face.

"That when you wanna date someone, you give them a bouquet."

You looked up at him, your eyebrow lifting in a slight arch. "But...we are dating, aren't we? 3rd of winter. That's when we got together."

Sam nodded and gave you another grin, this time, it was almost shy.

"But I didn't give you a bouquet." It wasn't an explanation. It was a matter of fact, at least that's how it sounded when he said it.

You couldn't help yourself, you never really could around Sam. Around him, your reactions were real. Raw. You laughed and gripped his face carefully, kissing the swollen nose just as gently as you did it affectionately.

"But Pierre sells them, Sam! You didn't have to trigger such a big allergic reaction for me," you whispered, and now it was Sam that rose his brow.

"Those are ugly ass flowers in that bouquet," he began, puffing out his chest, "and who the hell knows how long our dude Pierre has kept those flowers in a random ass drawer, keeping them alive with whatever witchery he has up that ugly sweater sleeve? Nope, no chance, my babe only gets the best- ACHOO."

Sam let out another groan, slowly holding the flowers towards you. "But..I'd be thankful if you took them off my hands...you know. I think you look prettier with them than I ever could, anyway."

You cooed as you looked at your beaten by allergies boyfriend, taking the bouquet and kissing his lips gently. "Yes, Sam," you whispered against them after a moment.

Sam, distracted by the affection inflicted on his lips, looked at you in confusion. "Yes what?"

You grinned, intertwined your fingers. "Yes, I accept the bouquet. Can't let my boyfriend die and then not accept the bouquet now, can I?"

Your boyfriend, now back on track, smiled, pressing a large hand to his chest. "That would have been more cruel than the pollen in spring."

[crownedghostprince]

That’s My Emotional Support Wife!

Legolas x Female!Accident Prone!Reader

Fandom: The Hobbit

Legolas and (Y/N) had courted for about a decade before finally deciding to marry.  (Y/N) was the daughter of Lord Elrond, just slightly younger than Arwen, and after marriage she moved to Mirkwood to live with Legolas and her father-in-law the King, Thranduil.  Legolas didn’t mind how accident prone (Y/N) was, sometimes it was even sort of cute.  And now there are 13 dwarves in the cells of Mirkwood having to be dealt with whilst the Elves continue their parties, patrols and usual antics that the dwarves were unaware of until that day.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): None.

Note: This is sort of silly, so if you enjoy a fun fanfiction, this is the one to read! (Y/C) - stands for (Your Choice) and (Your Colour).

Word Count: 2,021

[Third Person Perspective]

(I couldn’t find any attached link to this picture from Pinterest, but it was under the account name “The Facegirl” when I found it. They seem cool from what I checked out.)

The dwarves were not happy to be locked up in the cells of Mirkwood under King Thranduil’s rule.  The elves would just pass by here and there as if it was an ordinary path to take.  These cells weren’t in dungeons or anything like you might expect, for the bars of the cells were incredibly tough and strong.  Therefore, there was no need to put the cells in such an inconvenient spot and instead it was closer to the main area where most Wood Elves just wandered through.  (This was also best as the Woodland Realm almost never had prisoners to jail).

So, the dwarves were trapped in their cells, waiting for Thorin to join them (hopefully with good news).  They’d tried breaking out of the cell in whatever way they could think.  From slamming against the bars with their shoulders, to kicking them with their legs and shaking them with their hands.  But still the cell bars held strong.  Bofur was the first to actually observe the elves, rather than sneer and ignore them like the others.  The others didn’t wish to make eye-contact or even look in their general direction.

Bofur watched, as many elves walked through speaking elvish and looking graceful.  Some elves were so graceful when they walked it looked almost as if they were floating across the floor, not even touching the ground.  He struggled to tell who was male and who was female, but the sounds of their voices definitely helped - even if he couldn’t understand their language.

Eventually he saw a beautiful elf with (Y/C) hair and (Y/C) eyes.  His?  Her? Dress was a beautiful mixture of pink and purple that fell past their ankles and hid their feet.  Thus, they appeared to be floating as they walked.  Bofur smiled, appreciating how beautiful the elves could truly be.  How graceful and--and she walked into a wall.  This got the dwarves quietly chuckling from they cells.

Even Dwalin was hiding his snicker.  They would laugh more openly, but they were in foul moods and didn’t want to anger the elves when the elves had an advantage against them.  The elf maiden didn’t seem to mind - hearing their chuckles with her good hearing - and laughed with them.  A shadow crossed the floor and Legolas landed with perfection as he came to check on his wife.  The dwarves’ faces immediately molded into scowls at the sight of the rude elf that found them and cast them into their cells.

They continued to watch as Legolas checked his wife’s face for cuts and smiled when she was cleared to be okay.  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and took her hand, walking her to the staircase to continue her on her path.  She was not halfway up the staircase when she tripped and fell.  Luckily, Legolas was used to this and simply caught her and gracefully carried her the rest of the way.  He set her back down on the marble floors, kissed the back of her hand and returned to his position up high, watching over the area.  She curtsied and although the dwarves could not hear - or understand it - she thanked him.  “Ni ‘lassui en, Legolas.”

An hour later, Thorin joined his company in the cells.  He simply explained how he had not taken any deal with King Thranduil and that all the Elves could...well...let’s not translate that now.  The dwarves were upset by this news, feeling like they’d be trapped forever.  But Thorin knew there was a Bilbo Baggins somewhere out there.  And he would help free them.  He was sure of it.  Bilbo was not so sure.  Every time he thought he had a clear path to descend to the cells, suddenly a bunch of elves walked by.  He was thankful the ring he found made him invisible.

Some were going to patrol outside, some were laughing and telling jokes in Elvish, some were carrying wine and food, or decorations and others were reading a lovely looking book as they walked by.  The thing is this: Bilbo didn’t have many openings to sneak past and not bump into someone.  So instead he decided to follow them for a brief moment and saw them setting up a sort of party.  With decorations and a clear view of the sky where Bilbo could see the tinges of orange and pink beginning to appear in the clouds.

There were tables lined with bottles of wine and kegs of wine and cups for the wine.  There were a few tables of food, but mostly it was wine.  With lots of seats, some elves already perched on the staircases and some elves sitting up high on ledges already getting drunk.  Many were singing and some were possibly telling poems?  Or stories?  Bilbo wasn’t quite sure but it was a merry gathering that was forming.

‘Well,’  Bilbo decided to himself, ‘Time to find those dwarves.’  And so he walked back the way he came, sneaking down corridors of marble and past beautiful pillars with beautiful, intricate carvings running down them.  Soon his eyes laid upon, a (Y/C) haired elf with a beautiful dress and stunning eyes.  She was reading a book as she walked absentmindedly.  He decided to follow her and see where he ended up.

They walked for almost half an hour when he heard the familiar, grumpy dwarves’ voices as they hushedly whispered to each other in Khuzdul.  ‘Finally,’ Bilbo thought excitedly, ‘I’ve found them!’  He waited behind the she-elf, watching where she was headed.  By the time he realized she was about to walk down a flight of stairs and possibly injure herself, a blond elf was by her side with an arm around her waist.  Legolas was so accustomed to stopping his wife from falling down stairs it was almost a daily thing to catch her and gently lead her away.

“A, Legolas.”  She smiled to her lover with such a soft gaze he felt sure to melt under it.  Although the dwarves did not know it, ‘A’ was Elvish for ‘Hi’.  However, they simply thought it was an exclamation like the English ‘Ah’ when one realizes they almost walked off the top step of a flight of stairs.

However, (Y/N) was so accident prone she was no longer surprised when someone stopped her from walking into a wall, or a door, or out a window and this case was no different.  Bruises and cuts from falling down stairs was common for our silly she-elf lady.  Legolas sighed fondly.  “Hiril vuin, please do fall down the stairs before a most wonderful celebration.”  ‘Hiril vuin’ was Elvish for ‘my lady’ and was a sweet and simple way for Legolas to remain caring, but serious, in front of the dwarvish prisoners.

Bofur spoke up with a chuckle from the cells below, “Is falling down the stairs a common occurrence?  I would love to see such a performance everyday!”  He joked.  The dwarves laughed in agreement except for Oin who could barely hear what Bofur said.

“What did he say?”  He asked Gloin who was in the cell beside him.  His question went unanswered as Gloin continued to loudly laugh.  Legolas glared down at the cells whilst (Y/N) simply laughed with the dwarves.  She had a wonderful sense of humour - she has two older and fun twin brothers after all - and she was also used to these jokes which made it even more fun in her opinion!

Once the laughter had settled down a bit (Y/N) chuckled out, “I knew I should’ve been the King’s jester!”  and the howls of laughter sprung back up again.  Their thunderous voices bounced of the walls and echoed through the building.  Even Legolas and Bilbo chuckled at (Y/N)’s joke.  As the dwarves continued to laugh, crack jokes and sometimes just rest in silence, Legolas decided to simply ignore them and inquire about his wife’s current book.  “Oh!  It’s a book of Elvish poems and short love stories.  I fell in love with it after reading the first couple of love poems.  It even has some poems specifically to be read just before you sleep.  Oh!  I’ll find one of my favourites for you!”

She began to carefully flip back through the previously read pages, keeping her bookmark on her current page as she did so.  Bilbo took this chance to quietly sneak past the couple and down the stairs to the cells in order to look for the keys.  Legolas smiled adoringly as his wife quietly muttered the poem titles until she found the one she was looking for.  Although the Elvish is truly beautiful and wonderful to read, here’s the English equivalent instead:

“ Your Divine Beauty,

The stars crown your head, As you rest peacefully in bed, And the moon bathes you in its’ light, Kissing you with all its’ might.

Such beauty even the sun bows down, So its’ colours may reflect onto your white gown. Pink, orange and gold, Dare not touch or enfold.

For they will not dare, To hide your beauty nor ensnare.”

Although Bilbo and the dwarves had no clue what she said as it was in Elvish, still they folded to the sound of her melodic voice when she read aloud her favourite poem.  Legolas gently kissed her forehead when she was finished and sighed wistfully.  “I adore that poem so much now.”  He smiled down as their foreheads rested together.

“I’m glad you liked it, dear.”  She grinned, returning his kiss with a giggle.  Only a moment had passed when they heard approaching footsteps.  Bilbo snuck back to a corner in case they should pass him and the dwarves returned to their original scowls as two Elven guards came to a stop in front of the couple.  The woman curtsied to the guards and they returned with a bow.

“We’re sorry to interrupt, but the celebrations are beginning.”  They explained, carefully watching Legolas’ eyes as he sighed.

“Very well.  Then I shall not keep you any longer, my dear.  Please, go enjoy yourself and do not wait up for me.  I will join you shortly after I have finished my patrol over the cells.”  Legolas kissed his wife’s hand with a tenderness and care you only hear and see in romance books.

“Thank-you, darling.  I shall join them, but I shall still wait for you.”  She grinned with a cheeky glint to her eyes.

“Why do I bother to tell you to not wait, you don’t listen anyway.”  He chuckled sweetly.  “Very well.  Now go, before my father is disappointed with both of us being absent.”

“Ah, yes, I should hurry then.  Take care, darling, and try not to roughen up the dwarves too much.”  She kissed him once more before leaving with the guards to the celebrations.  Legolas sighed wistfully once more and did not move until she was safe out of sight with the guards.  He trusted them to catch her if she should fall.

But even if she is injured, they have healers that are always pre-prepared for her anyway.  He turned back and before he could ascend back to his post, the dwarves spoke up.

“So she and you are...well...together, huh?”

“She’s my emotional support wife.”  Legolas grinned mischievously, knowing fully well she could still hear them with her excellent Elvish hearing.  A second later his ears heard her voice in the distance,

“I heard that!”  And he smiled hearing her voice once more.

“You’ll do well to not disrespect her whilst you’re here.”  Legolas stared the dwarves down as he finally returned to his post, just out of their line of sight above them.  The dwarves rolled their eyes and proceeded to taunt him with funny comments anyway.  All were harmless, but they were fishing for a reaction from Legolas so they did their best to make it sound almost like insults.  He didn’t care enough to hear though, he was ignoring them and mentally reciting his wife’s favourite poem so when she was having a bad sick day he’d know it off by heart.

[aislinrayne]

[𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱]

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: After a particularly rough case, Reader starts acting distant. Lockwood thinks giving her space will help. When he's woken by the phone ringing, George doesn't need to know what happened to know it's probably Lockwood's fault.

ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: Mature/Explicit.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Alcohol consumption, strong language, sexual content (second base with intent to go further), anxious avoidant Reader, Reader is shorter than Lockwood, drunk Reader, Reader is harassed at the bar, brief touch without consent, no use of y/n.

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢: Fuck I love playing with different kinds of dynamics. I've had this sitting partially drafted in my writing folder for a year now, and the brain-goblins wouldn't let me keep working on SM until this was done lmao Please let this be the year I finally get a handle on my creative flow fml

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 6.1k

    The first time the phone rings, both inhabitants of 35 Portland Row manage to remain deep in a well earned slumber.

  The second time the phone rings, it successfully rouses one George Karim.  Muttering a string of colourful insults under his breath that - had he been in his family home - would have earned him a smack over the head with his mother’s slipper, he reluctantly drags himself from the warmth and comfort of his duvet.  Letting out a long suffering sigh that lasts through the entire shuffle from his room to the phone on the floor below, he lifts it from the receiver and greets the caller with a noise somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘fuck off’.

  “Evening, sorry to wake you.  This is James, calling from The Royal Oak.  Is there a, uh-”  Even over the numerous voices and the clinking of glass in the background, George can hear the gruff sounding man being interrupted by a woman’s voice mumbling incoherently before all sound is muffled by a palm being pressed over the mic on the other end, “-sorry, did you say…?  Really, sweetheart?  Alright, but don’t try to blame this on me tomorrow when you sober up.”  

  Then the phone is back to full volume. “Sorry about that, I’ve got a young lady here who says she lives at this address?  She’s too drunk to get herself home and this is the number she gave for someone she trusts to come get her.  But, uh, she-”  James seems like he’d rather not say the next bit, “well, she just keeps asking for ‘that selfish wanker’?  Won’t give me a name otherwise.”

  There’s not a lot in this world capable of rendering George completely speechless, but that…  That does it.  He allows the phone to drop from his ear for a moment, resting it on his shoulder as he attempts to compose himself and reply to the nice man on the other end of the line.

  “Uh…  Yeah, she- she’s ours.  Probably talking about our boss, then.  I’ll, uh…  I’ll go wake him.  I’m sure he’ll be there very soon.”  He has to speak up over the sound of James choking and sputtering in surprise to say a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, before slamming the phone down and jogging up the stairs to wake his friend.  

  He pauses for a moment halfway up, considering heading back downstairs to grab a boot to throw at the door.  Unfortunately his need for immediate answers outweighs his urge to be petty, so he settles for pounding loudly on the door instead.   There’s quiet rustling and not so quiet cursing on the other side before it’s ripped open.

  “What?!”  A dishevelled Anthony Lockwood snaps, blinking sleep from glaring eyes and leaning on the doorframe in an endeavour to keep himself upright.

  “Just got a call from The Royal Oak, down on York Street?  Turns out they have a resident of this address drunkenly calling for a ‘selfish wanker’ to come pick her up.”  George crosses his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow at the taller man.  

  Lockwood’s expression shifts from its existing irritated frown into confusion, then straight to alarm.  He wastes no time flipping the light switch beside the doorway, bathing the room in light as he crosses it to tug one of his dresser drawers open.

  “Can you call me a Night Cab, please?  Offer them double fare to prioritise.”  He calls over his bare shoulder, searching for a t-shirt and hoodie to toss on.  His researcher says nothing as he complies, deciding to save the interrogation for later.

  Anthony is properly worried.     Their third roommate had come back from their last job acting distant.  They’d been separated by a pair of particularly nasty Spectre’s for close to an hour, but she’d succeeded in securing the Source’s and they’d all made it out in one piece.  He’d been so caught up in pride for his team he hadn’t noticed the effect it had on her until days later.  When he tried to approach her with his concerns, she clammed up and looked as though she was about to cry before excusing herself to her room.  None of the members of his agency, himself included, had seen her exit her room for two days after that.   He hadn’t asked about it since, and while giving her space seemed to be working by way of not making her cry, he was starting to wonder if it had been upsetting her in a different way.     Even taking all of that into consideration, there’s still no way he could have seen a phone call like this coming at 2:56 AM on a Tuesday.

  All he can find is a sleeveless black undershirt.  With a huff of frustration he pulls it over his head, kicking the drawer closed simultaneously, then pulling open the one above it.  The joggers he fell asleep in are fine enough, so after a fit of undignified hopping across the room to cover his feet with pink socks he grabs a random hoodie off of the armchair by the window, shrugs into it, and zips it on his way down the stairs.

  George is waiting for him at the bottom, staring at his watch.

  “Your cab should be here in three minutes, mine should be here in thirteen.”  He looks up from his wrist, meeting his boss’s confused look with an exasperated one.  “I’m heading to Flo’s for the night, so whatever you fucked up, mate?  Fix it.”  Karim claps him on the shoulder, walking past him to pack an overnight bag.  It might not be conventional, but Anthony knows it’s the closest thing to encouragement he’s going to get.

  The next several minutes pass in a blur of waiting and worrying, until finally it’s 3:14 AM and he’s slipping the cab driver an extra twenty quid to wait for them, swearing to be no longer than fifteen minutes.  The ungodly-early morning air is sharp and cold, cutting to the bone as soon as he steps out of the comforting warmth of the vehicle.  It’s plenty enough encouragement to hurry his way to the building, pulling the door open to slip into the soft golden warmth and loud ambiance of the pub.  

  He hesitates on the doormat, catching sight of the other patrons.  Thankfully it isn’t a particularly highbrow establishment, but it's nice enough for him to feel noticeably underdressed in black joggers and a grey zip-up.  And then he lays eyes on her, and all insecurities are immediately banished by the sharp knife of shock burying itself in his gut.  

  She’s balanced on a table, wearing a little black dress he’d never seen before.  Her arms are raised above her head, fingers combing through her hair as her hips sway to the bass of the music in a way that probably would have had his mouth watering if it wasn’t for present circumstances.   He isn’t the only one noticing her.  There’s a group of men standing around the table, watching her with hungry eyes that make his skin crawl with disgust.   A tall blonde man pushes his way past the rest of the crowd, deep set ice blue eyes chasing up her legs.  She seems to either be unaware of his presence, or too lost in the music to care.  Even from his position across the room he can see her eyes are out of focus, drifting away for split seconds every few beats from the speakers on the wall.     The man raises a hand and grabs her thigh, using enough pressure to leave visible fingermarks.

  Lockwood finds himself frozen in place, blood boiling as he mentally considers how challenging talking his way out of a murder charge could really be.  Surely not that much harder than talking his way out of an arson charge, and he’d done that often enough to be confident in his abilities.

  Before his sleep deprived mind can break free of its indecision, the girl spins around abruptly and slaps the lecherous limb away from her.  The slime of a man attached to it is none too happy about that, making a move to grab for her arm.  Her normally impeccable reflexes are slowed by the alcohol, she can’t move fast enough to avoid the attack.  When his fingers close around her wrist, he pulls.  Hard.     She teeters on the edge of the table, her short cry of pain audible even over the music.

  Huh.  He’d always thought the whole ‘seeing red’ thing was entirely turn of phrase, but as it turns out, there’s actually a modicum of truth to it.

  He’s halfway across the bar by the time he realises he’s in motion, but he’s not about to stop.  Closing the remaining distance in a few purposeful strides, he grabs the creep’s arm in a vice grip.  The blonde releases his hold on her immediately, instinctively trying to pull away from the pain.  Lockwood lets him stumble away in surprise, wasting no time placing himself in between his friend and the threat to her safety.  At first he’s optimistic he might have a chance to vent some anger when the wanker locks eyes with him, but whatever he’d seen in Anthony’s was enough to make him back down and stumble off with an insincere apology.  

  Reminding himself to focus his attention where it belongs, he turns to look up at the girl on the table.  Her face lights up with delight when she recognizes him, then swiftly sours the longer she looks at him.   He feels like an absolute prick for not noticing the dark circles around her eyes sooner.  Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he reaches up to offer her both of his hands, palms up.  She sways in place for a moment, scowling pensively at the proffered appendages.  He studies her face while he waits patiently, trying to find any hint of what could be bothering her enough to take this approach to forgetting.

  With a tiny hiccup she finally caves, placing her hands in his and allowing him to help her to solid ground.  Once both of her feet are securely on the sticky floor, he offers her his arm for support.  She gives him another little glare, but just like before, she eventually accepts his help.   Scanning the other tables and chairs around her makeshift stage, he sees no sign of a purse or jacket that he recognises in the slightest.

  “Did you bring anything with you, sweetheart?”  He asks her directly, leaning closer to her ear to be heard over the noise.  If he didn’t know any better he’d say she looks almost flustered; eyes glazed, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, looking through him rather than at him as she tries to filter his words through the haze of liquor clouding her mind.     Although he’s prepared to wait as long as it takes for her to answer, he can’t help but feel a touch relieved when the bartender waves him over holding a familiar leather clutch.  Gently taking her by the arm, he guides her to a nearby chair to sit and wait for him to collect her belongings.  Giving a final warning look to the remaining crowd for good measure, he leaves her side to approach the bar.

  The man behind it is average height, with mid length dark hair as well kept as his perfectly trimmed goatee.  He abandons the glass he’s polishing, tossing the white cloth he’d been using over his shoulder and offering Anthony a calloused hand.  “I take it you must be-”

  “‘That selfish wanker’?  Present and accounted for, though I also answer to ‘Anthony’.”  He replies, accepting the handshake.  

  The other man’s grip is firm but friendly, and he throws his head back in merriment at Lockwood’s unexpected introduction.  “James, pleasure to finally meet you.  I’ve heard a lot about you from your little Songbird over there.”

  Lockwood winces.  “Not all bad, hopefully.”

  “No, not all bad.”  James soothes before leaning in conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

  He shoots him a wink as he settles back, and now it’s Anthony’s turn to laugh.  It’s decided then and there; they like each other.

  He reaches behind the lip of the bar, grabbing the clutch he’d tucked out of sight until he could determine Lockwood’s identity.  “This is all she brought with her.  You’ve got a safe way home?”

  Anthony takes it from him with a grateful smile.  “Yeah, paid the driver to stick around.  I consider myself pretty good at multitasking, just not ‘keeping her upright and not getting ghost-touched’ good.”  James lets loose a hearty laugh in response.

  The screech of wood against the floor draws their attention back to the woman formerly in the chair, now standing unsteadily a few feet away.

  “And that’s my cue.  Pleasure to meet you, James.  And, uh-”  He glances back at her involuntarily.  “Thank you.  For keeping an eye on her, calling us, the lot of it.”

  The bartender smirks, quirking an eyebrow and giving him a knowing look.  “It's what any decent person would do.  Don’t be a stranger now, either of you.”

  Lockwood departs the bar, clutch in hand, with a salute and a promise to be back another time.   She seems confused at first when he tries to get her attention, switching to stare at him reproachfully when she recognises him again.  He sighs, trying to tuck away his own feelings of exhaustion and defeat.  

  “Let's get you home, love.”  He murmurs, offering his arm again.  She takes it without hesitation this time, leaning heavily against him as they make their way to the exit.  Pausing on the doormat, he carefully extracts his limb from her grip, soothing her little noise of protest by assuring she’d be using him as a crutch again momentarily.  The metal of the zipper is cold against his bare arms as he shrugs his hoodie off, blatantly ignoring her attempts to argue with him and draping the grey fabric over her shoulders.

  The cold breeze cuts into him once they’re outside, but he carefully schools his expression to avoid showing her it's affecting him at all.  Despite having paid the man extra, he’s still pleasantly surprised to see the black cab still waiting at the curb.   It’s easier than he’d expected to load her into the comfortable back seat.  She doesn’t even try to swat his hand away when he places it on top of her head to prevent her bouncing it off the roof in her attempt to get in.   Once she’s scooted to the far side, he climbs in after her.  She seems lost in thought, staring absently at the headrest in front of her.  He leans closer slowly, giving her ample time to move away if she doesn’t want him in her space.  When she remains stationary, he reaches across her body to grab her seatbelt, gently buckling her in and tightening the belt over her hips.  

  She finally looks at him, expression blank as she studies his features.  It’s clear her mind is elsewhere, and she returns to staring at the black leather so quickly he wonders if he’d imagined the whole thing.   He gives their driver the all clear, directing him to drop them off where he’d first picked him up before slumping back into his seat for the uncomfortably quiet ride home.

  They’re half-way there when he can stand to ignore the elephant in the room no longer.  The words slip out before he can think of a more tactful way to ask;  “What’s going on with you?”

  She turns to look at him so slowly it’s almost unnerving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She answers bitterly, her voice laced with the same steel as her eyes.

  “That’s bloody horseshit!”  He scoffs, far too tired to hold back.  “If there was nothing wrong, I wouldn’t have gotten a call tonight.”

  Her mouth opens and closes soundlessly for several seconds, seemingly overwhelmed by the number colourful insults she’d like to hurl at him.  

  “Like you care.”  She finally mutters, shaking her head and turning away from him to stare pointedly out her window.

  “...What?”  He manages to put his frustration on hold for a moment, making room for his growing concern.  “Of course I care, what makes you think I wouldn’t?”

  She laughs darkly, shaking her head.  “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”  He cries in exasperation.

  She whips around to face him.  “You knew I was struggling!  You knew, and you ignored it because it was easier than dealing with me!”  Her eyes are wild, chest heaving as she draws in air like she has to fight for every breath.

  All hostility drains out of him in an instant, leaving him uncomfortably hollow in its absence.  He’s intimately aware of her eyes searching his face, trying to gain some kind of insight into his mind.     He feels like he’s just stumbled into a minefield, and in a way he has.  If his next words aren’t carefully chosen, he could detonate one and destroy his friendship with someone he can’t live without.

  Organising his thoughts and taking a deep breath, he plunges ahead.

  “I’m sorry.  I thought by giving you space I was giving you what you needed, but I should have just talked to you.  And you’re right, I was being selfish, just… not in the way you’re thinking.”  She looks like she’s about to interrupt, but he ploughs on.  “I was afraid if I pushed too hard you’d shut me out.  I thought it would be safer to stay silent and let you come to me when you were ready, but it was my responsibility to communicate that to you, and I failed.”

  They sit in stillness for far longer than he’s comfortable with, his words hanging in the air between them.

  When she finally puts him out of his misery, he has to strain to hear her over the rumble of the car.  “It wasn’t two Spectres.”

  It feels like someone’s poured ice down his back.  “...What?”

  “The last job?  We thought it was just two Spectres, but it wasn’t.  It-”  Her voice shakes, then dies.  She has to stop and breathe, looking like she’s about to be crushed by the weight of the words on her tongue.  “One of them was a Fetch.”

  Staring down at his hands, he searches for the right words to say.  Is he supposed to say anything at all?  If he interrupts now, will she shut him out?  If he doesn’t, will she think he doesn’t care?     A point of personal pride for him is being able to read people, to shape himself into whatever role they need him to fill, but… he has no idea who she needs him to be right now.  

  She hesitantly continues.  “It was you.”  

  He looks up at her only to find her eyes already on him.  “It wasn’t.”

  She laughs sadly, but doesn’t look away.  When she tips her head to concede the point, the light catches at the corner of her eye.  “Right.  It did use your face, though.”

  “Whatever it said, it isn’t true.”  He can’t resist the urge to reach across the seat between them, wiping the tear from her cheek and hoping she can feel the truth in his words when he says;  “A Fetch will find your worst fear and exploit it.  And I swear to you, I will never allow anything to make you feel afraid like this again.”

  Silence stretches on between them, becoming heavier with every second passing them by.  His thumb continues stroking her face slowly, absentmindedly.  If he didn’t know any better, he’d think her eyes had drifted to his lips. 

  “Kiss me.”

  His hand falls from her face.   For a second, he thinks it’s him that’s said it.  When he realises it wasn’t, the potential implications of her words make his heart stutter.  There’s a chance this is just a drunken impulse, a need for comfort in a moment of vulnerability.   If it is, what the hell is he supposed to do about it?  If he gives in to her, will he be able to carry on working beside her once he’s had a taste of the life with her he doesn’t even allow himself to dream about?   On the flip side, there’s a chance that this is an actual confession.  The Fetch had chosen his face to torment her, and as horrifying as that had been to hear, it only would have done so if she felt something for him.  Maybe she feels the same as he does.  Maybe the reason he can never figure out what mask to put on for her, is that she’s only ever needed him to be himself.     Hope fills every inch of him as he stares at her, enraptured.

  Then, he realises he’s been quiet for long enough for panic to fill her eyes.

  “Ask me in the morning.”  He breathes, feeling as perplexed as she looks when the words come out of his mouth.  She’s confused that he hasn’t directly shot her down.  He’s confused that he’s capable of this kind of restraint while sleep deprived.

  “What?”  She frowns, blinking as her eyes lose focus for a split second in her bewilderment. 

  Feeling more confident in his decision, he smiles softly at her. “Ask me when you’re sober, and when we’re not in this nice man’s cab.” 

  The driver laughs, trying and failing to cover it with a guilty cough.

  Once they reach 35 Portland Row,  Anthony covers the fare and slips the man a generous tip for enduring their antics before exiting the cab.  The emotional intensity of the ride home had been enough to partially sober up his companion, but he still isn’t sold on her ability to climb stairs without assistance.     He keeps his arm wrapped tightly around her waist until they reach the door of her room - formerly Lucy’s - on the top level of the house before reluctantly removing it.  She wobbles for a moment, but it seems to be more from her leaning to chase his touch than any serious instability.  They stand there for a while, neither willing to walk away from the other, until a large yawn overtakes her.

  He chuckles, suddenly remembering James’ nickname for her.  “Goodnight, Songbird.”

  “That’s a stupid nickname.”  She complains, scrunching up her face in distaste.  When all he does is laugh some more, she sighs and carries on.  “Goodnight, Anthony.  Sweet dreams.”

  He disagrees completely, of course.  From her lips, his name is the sweetest song he’s ever heard.   Turning away from him, she places her hand on the doorknob but doesn’t make any move to twist it.  He’s about to ask her if something is wrong when she turns back to him swiftly, closing the distance between them and standing on her toes to brace her hands on his shoulders as she presses the ghost of a kiss against his cheek.  By the time he’s raised trembling fingers to the tingling skin, she’s already in her room with the door closed behind her.

  He spends his early morning dreaming of the flutter of wings, and birds gently pecking him on the cheek.

  When he’s woken by persistent knocking on his door once more, Anthony Lockwood finds himself wondering what precisely he had done to piss off Hypnos in a past life.

  Still on high alert from his unusual evening, he’s out of bed and across the room without a second thought.  When he pulls the door open he’s entirely expecting another emergency, not to find the girl of his dreams standing there staring steadfast at her feet.

  “I am so sorry about last night, I should have told you what was going on instead of going on a bloody bender.  That was incredibly immature and irresponsible of me and I completely understand if you want to fire me.”  She starts slow, but by the end of her apology the words are flying out of her mouth.  Despite her best efforts, the misery in her voice as she says the last bit is tangible.

  Why would he want that?  Still not entirely awake, the first thing out of his mouth is the first thought in his mind.  “Please don’t leave.”

  “...What?”  Not even remotely prepared for that response, she finally looks up at him.  As their eyes meet, reality sets in and time seems to slow.

  When he takes a proper look at her, he completely forgets the entirety of the English language.  Her hair is mussed from sleep, remnants of last night's makeup smudged under her eyes.  She’d apparently had the mental faculties to change into her pyjamas the night previous, and while he’d seen her in those shorts often enough to control the urge to stare, something about her wearing his hoodie zipped over them was making him feel like a moron.  He’d never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.   On the other side of the doorway, she’s having a very similar crisis.  His sleep tousled hair only doubled her ever present urge to rake her fingers through it.  And not only had he been in such a hurry to answer the door he hadn’t bothered to slip on a shirt, his joggers were also sitting dangerously low on his hips.     Their eyes snap back to each other's faces in tandem, both flushing almost comical shades of red.

  “Did you mean what you said last night?”  He asks hurriedly, heart pounding in his throat.

  “I said a lot of things.”  She wraps her arms around herself, laughing nervously.  “Which part?”  

  He keeps his eyes fixed on hers, searching them for some clue to tell him what comes next.

  Mustering more courage than she thought she was capable of, she answers honestly.  “Yeah, I did.  Every word.”

  Mimicking his actions from the night before he extends both of his hands towards her, palms up.   She tilts her head quizzically, but places her hands in his.  He uses them to pull her close enough their bodies are almost touching, guiding her arms to rest on his shoulders, releasing them to place one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck.  She inhales sharply when he leans in, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw while her gaze flickers between his eyes and lips.   He’s studying her face like he never wants to forget a single detail, but he doesn’t get any closer.  She’s lightheaded and pretty sure she’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss her soon, which is probably why it’s not until she sees the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile that she realises what he’s waiting for.  

  “Kiss me.”  She breathes.

  He doesn’t need to be told a third time.   He leans down and kisses her like he’ll never get the chance to do so again, like the world is falling to pieces around them and the only thing that can save them is the feeling of her lips against his.     The hand on the side of her throat slides back to bury itself in her hair, cradling the back of her head to take the strain off her neck from their notable difference in height.  Her hands wander the expanse of bare skin across his back, mapping every muscle and scar like it’s the braille translation of his life story.  He shivers under her touch, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her body tight to his in a desperate attempt to fill the yawning pit within him that had grown larger with every day he believed he’d never get to hold her like this.  

  As she runs her hands down his sides to his hips he gasps involuntarily, deepening their kiss with enthusiasm.  Driven by curiosity, she lets her nails graze his skin as she retraces her previous path.  The noise he makes in response is downright sinful, but so is the feeling of his rapier-calloused skin against her back as he slips his hand under the hem of his hoodie.  Her breath catches as his fingers trace featherlight patterns up and down her spine, feeling him grinning between kisses when he notices she’s not wearing anything beneath the grey material.  When he nips at her lower lip, she drags her nails down his back, and the last of his restraint abandons him.  

  Both of his hands drop, fingers dimpling the flesh of her upper thighs.  As in sync as they are in the field he’d never dared to imagine the same would apply to the bedroom, so he’s a little blown away when she understands his intentions immediately, jumping as he lifts her up to wrap her legs around his hips without breaking from each other.  Now he’s the one craning his neck to capture her lips, the floor creaking beneath his feet as he crosses the short distance to the wall, pressing her back against it and groaning at the restrained whimper that slips free from her.

  “Please don’t hold back.  I want to hear you sing for me, my little Songbird.”  He urges, adjusting his grip to slide his hands up her sides under his hoodie, palming one of her breasts and swiping a thumb experimentally across her skin to carefully catch one of her nipples between his thumb and the side of his forefinger.  She finally breaks, back arching away from the wall, head falling back against it as she moans unabashedly.  All of his strength threatens to leave him when she rolls her hips against his, dropping his free hand to grab at the plush of her ass and pull her impossibly closer as he whispers praise between frenzied kisses pressed to her throat.  She buries her hands in his hair, gasping for air as his ministrations travel to her collarbones then slowly down the centre of her chest, placing an open-mouthed kiss to swell of her breast-

  The front door slams open, startling them apart.  There’s the sound of shuffling beneath them as someone kicks off their shoes.

  “OI, MATE!”  George’s voice calls from the base of the stairs, “Did you fix it?”

  They look at each other, dazed and drunk off each other.  A confused frown decorates her features, mouth falling open to ask him what the hell their other roommate is talking about.  He shakes his head in exasperation, shooting her a look that reads ‘I’ll fill you in later’ and dropping his head to rest on her chest.  They take as many seconds as they dare like that, her fingers combing through his hair soothingly as he wraps his arms around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against his.  Reluctantly, he lifts his head and steps away from the wall, gently setting her back on her feet and pressing a kiss to her temple.  She seems hesitant to move away from him at all, back to staring at her feet instead of looking at him.  He’s known her for long enough to know she’s overthinking.

  “Hey, look at me.”  He slips his fingers beneath her chin, gently lifting her face to meet his concerned gaze.  “What’s on your mind, darling?”  

  “I don’t-”  She starts strong but stops suddenly, shifting anxiously.  “I really don’t want this to be a one time thing, or - or just a way to blow off steam-”

  He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, cradling her face and pressing a brief but searing kiss against her lips.  She softens, melting into his touch.

  “Good,” He murmurs as he pulls away, tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her a peck on the cheek like the one she’d given him the night before, “because I don’t think I can survive another day of not being able to kiss you.”

  George chooses that moment to begin his ascent of the stairs.  They break away from each other, struggling to make themselves presentable before he makes it to the landing.  Anthony rushes to grab a shirt from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his head haphazardly  She squeaks when she finds the zipper of his hoodie down to her navel, shooting him a teasingly chastising look when he snickers and crosses past her to greet their researcher in the hall, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.  She yanks the zip as high as it will go, trying to smooth her own hair as she approaches the bookshelf and grabs something at random.  She throws herself into the armchair in the corner of his room just in time, flipping the book open to roughly the halfway point and staring intently at the page as George reaches the top step.

  “Good morning!”  Anthony greets him far too cheerfully, leaning against the doorframe in an attempt to obscure the other man’s view of his room.  

  “...Morning.”  George replies, not even trying to disguise his attempts to peer around his boss.  “How’d it go last night?”  

  “Um - fine!  Yeah, just fine.  Perfectly fine.  Everything is… fine.”  She closes her eyes, letting out a slow quiet sigh at his obvious nerves.  

  Adjusting the book to make sure it’s in his line of sight, she grits her teeth and bites the bullet.  “Morning, Georgie!”  

  Lockwood looks over his shoulder at her in alarm, but at her reassuring nod he steps hesitantly out of the way so she’s in clear view.

  George inspects her with narrowed eyes.  “You are significantly less hungover than I’d expected.”

  She winces, not able to fault him in the slightest for the disappointment in his voice.  “Yeah, pretty sure it just hasn’t hit me yet.  Sorry about that.  It won’t happen again, Scouts Honour.”

  “Why are you in Lockwood’s room?”  His brow furrows almost imperceptibly.

  She doesn’t miss a beat.  “I was so drunk last night he was worried I was going to fall asleep on my back and choke on my own vomit, so he made me sleep in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair.”

  Both men fix their eyes on her.  Anthony looks horrified, while George looks strangely impressed.  The bespectacled man studies her for another moment and she holds her breath, hoping he’d bought it.  Shrugging a ‘fair enough’, he bids them a temporary farewell and walks into his own room, closing the door behind him.  

  She huffs a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and slumping back in the chair as the tension drains from her body.  When she cracks an eye a few long moments later, Anthony is still standing in the doorway with the same look of horror plastered across his face.

  “What’s wrong?”  She asks, worry laced in every syllable.  

  “I didn’t even think of that!  I could have let you die!”  He seethes, throwing his hands up in annoyance at himself.  

  She has to fight the urge to laugh at him, focusing instead on gathering her strength to stand and walk over to take his hands in her own.  

  “I appreciate the concern, my love, but I wasn’t that drunk by the time you got me home.”  She smiles fondly at him, lifting his hands to press soft kisses to each knuckle.  When she glances up at him even his ears are flushed pink, looking at her with a lovesick smile.  

  “Call me that again?”  He implores, pulling her against him.

  With a quiet laugh, she drapes her arms over his shoulders before replying.  “My love.”

  They lose themselves in each other for another several minutes, only parting grudgingly at the rumble of his stomach and the threat of another interruption.

  George waits until later that morning when Lucy, Kipps, and Holly have joined them and they’re all in the kitchen eating breakfast to comment on Anthony’s inside out shirt, and how impressed he is that the sixth member of their agency has learned to read upside down.   As Lucy slowly turns to look at them, eyes wide and jaw seemingly aiming to touch the floor, Anthony lets the red-faced young woman beside him hide her blush in his shoulder.  For some reason, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.  Grinning proudly, he winks at the Listener, causing her to shriek loudly and demand to know the full story.

  When his girlfriend looks up to shoot him a warning look, he mimics zipping his lips.  “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell, Luce.”

  Lucy’s demands are finally met five years later when James taps the side of his champagne flute with his knife, drawing the attention of the room full of guests to tell his favourite story about the bride and groom.

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