#i could really give a damn i could really give a fuck long as you bitches know what’s up it’s doechii bitch miss doe don dada bitch you noti

[luvrrszn]

behind closed doors

BROTHER'S BSF!THEO NOTT x FEM READER (18+)

summary you're his best friend's little sister—off-limits, right?

warnings smut, theo's mean, fluff, angst i guess, idk

a/n guysssssssssss new week new obsession......soz send help

masterlist

being your older brother's best friend, theo was at your house all the time.

that meant he'd see you almost every day. the most gorgeous girl he'd ever seen, floating around. so close yet so far, always out of reach.

he knew he'd never be able to have you, no, your brother would never allow that. so he did the only other thing he could think of—be mean to you.

so he tormented you every day. called you names, even waited on your bed for you to come home so he could insult you about something new. you suspected it was just his way of getting to see you every day.

he acts like you're the biggest pain in the ass, just his best friend's annoying little sister. but the second nobody's looking? his hands are on you.

—

sleeping with him is casual, no strings attached. theo sneaks out of your brother's room at night after he's fast asleep, making sure that he never ever finds out what's going on.

when your brother is finally out of town for the weekend, theo still comes over. the two of you are watching a movie on the tv in your room, lying on your bed. his arm is wrapped around your shoulder, your head leaning against his chest. his other hand traces up and down your inner thigh under the blanket.

it's one of those rare moments in the in-between.

in-between fucking and being at each others' throats.

theo's hand slips lower, toying with the waistband of your pink lace panties. he traces over your wet cunt, chuckling under his breath, "amore mio, you're dripping, just for me, huh?"

"shut u—" you're immediately silenced when theo plunges two long fingers into your pussy.

a smug smile spreads across his face, “you’re squeezing me so tight, you’re gonna break my fingers aren’t ya? if your brother knew how much you think about me, he’d probably hex you himself.”

“t-theo, stop talking about my brother and start moving your damn fingers.” you pants, writhing against the palm of his hand, aching for some friction against your clit.

“as you wish, amore mio.”

—

one night, you’re sneaking back in after a party. your hair is disheveled, makeup smudged, slightly tipsy and boots in your hand as you try to close the front door as quietly as possible.

theo is the last person you expect to see. you curse under your breath. why is he always in your damn house?

the open kitchen layout gives him the perfect view of you sneaking back in at 3am. he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, grey sweatpants hanging low, black tshirt hugging his biceps. he drinks from a glass of water, a dark look on his face.

you roll your eyes as you put your boots down on the floor, preparing yourself for what’s to come.

“a bit late, isn’t it, piccola?”

you roll your eyes and brush past him, opening the fridge to grab some orange juice. gulping down the juice, you reply, "it's really none of your business, nott."

wrong answer.

before you can react, he's in front of you, blocking your path. he's so much taller, broader than you. the amused glint in his eye is gone.

"see, that's where you're wrong," he murmurs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you meet his gaze, "it is absolutely my business, because we wouldn't want you messing around with young, dumb, horny boys would we?"

his forearms rest on either side of your head, pinning you against the refrigerator.

"oh yeah? and what are you?" you scoff.

"oh, bella, you already know the answer to that."

and you do. he's stronger, older, perhaps even more mature (when it comes to anything other than you) than whatever company you're keeping.

"i swear, you'd better not tell my brother about this." you groan, ducking under his arms as you beeline for the sink.

"there's no such thing as a free lunch, piccola."

and that's how you end up on your knees in your bedroom, short skirt hiked up as you gag around his fucking massive cock. his hands are tangled in your hair, mercilessly forcing you to take in every inch of him. tears stream down your face, spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. you look like a mess, but at that moment as theo looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, he swears he's never seen a prettier girl than you.

you look up at theo and take in the sight before you. his head is thrown back, hair messy. his jaw is clenched, and he smirks at you. you run your hands over his chest and toned abs, clawing at his biceps.

he's perfect.

—

oh, and when he catches you at a party?

it's over.

he drags you out by your wrists, forcing you into his blacked-out mercedes. he's driving well over the speed limit, desperate to get off the road before he loses his shit.

he'd seen you dancing with some guy you knew from down the street, dress too short, too tight, too low-cut.

he has one hand on the steering wheel, another running through his hair as his jaw clenches.

"didn't take you for the easy type, but i guess i shouldn't be surprised. you're not special, you know. boys will say anything to get them what they want."

his words hit like a slap. your stomach twists, and for a second, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted and heart pounding.

you want to ask what the hell he's talking about, but you already know.

he saw you dancing with that guy. saw the way his hands slid down your waist, how he leaned in close and whispered things in your ear. how you let out that sweet laugh, one that always made theo want to say "fuck it" and just kiss you in front of everyone. he saw the way you let it happen.

and he hated it.

and now he's punishing you for it.

when you remain silent, he continues, "you looked fucking ridiculous in there, you know that?"

and you feel so silly. to think that that evening, you'd picked out your favourite dress, made sure your makeup looked good, just in hopes that theo would notice you at that party.

"you're being cruel, theo. stop it." you murmur, turning to stare out of the window. you don't even notice that you've started crying.

when you finally notice, you wipe it away quickly. you hope that theo didn't notice, but of course he did. at that moment, he pulls into the driveway of your house, turning off the engine.

theodore nott has seen a lot of things—but he has never seen you cry like this. and definitely not because of him.

and it makes something in his chest clench.

"oh, for fuck’s sake—" his voice drops, no longer sharp but still frustrated. he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly, like he’s angry at himself now, too.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, at the way you’re biting your lip, blinking rapidly, trying so hard to hold it in.

then? he moves.

his hand reaches for your thigh, fingers curling around it, grounding. not forceful, but firm.

"hey." his voice is softer now, rough but not cruel.

"don't do that. don't fucking cry over me."

you try to shift away, but theo's grip tightens. not rough—just enough to make you stay.

"i didn't mean—fuck." he sighs again, shaking his head.

his thumb brushes against your knee, almost like a reflex, and for the first time ever, he looks uncertain.

"look at me."

you don't. you can't.

so he makes you.

his fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face towards him.

he isn't angry anymore. not at you. not really. his jaw is still clenched, his brows furrowed, but now? he looks almost desperate. like he wants to fix everything he's done, but he doesn't know how.

"i didn't mean it like that, bella."

you sniff, voice shaking slightly, "then how did you mean it?"

and that's when he just sighs. a weak, defeated sigh escapes the big bully of a man.

"i just—fuck, i don’t want to see you with other guys, alright?"

"why? we're not anything. you've made it clear, multiple times."

silence follows. his grip tightens.

then, he finally speaks. rough, low, honest.

"because i want you to be mine."

for a moment, you just stare at him.

his confession hangs in the air between the two of you. you're still hurt, still pissed. but something inside you shifts.

"say it again." your voice is quieter now, still laced with frustration but weaker.

theo's jaw clenches. he’s not used to being this vulnerable. but he doesn’t look away.

"I want you to be mine."

and then he moves. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. he hesitates for just a second, like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.

but you don't.

so he kisses you.

it's not soft. not at first. it’s heated, desperate, full of all the tension that had been boiling between you. his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but you don’t—you kiss him back just as fiercely, hands tugging at his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

it’s messy and overwhelming and everything you’ve both been pretending not to want.

when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

"we’re so fucked," you whisper.

theo smirks, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “yeah. but you like it.”

and the worst part?

you do.

[artemisiasmuse]

Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

[gangstalkerbarbie]

Yes, you don't owe anyone your time and intimacy. These things are freely given to people whose company you enjoy. They're not a reward for performing the mechanical actions of courtship correctly, they're a logical consequence of two people mutually liking one another on a profound human level. Courtship is a game between two people who already like each other, and the thing is that there is no reward, the reward is getting to spend socially sanctioned time together that could lead into nesting and raising children. The win condition of dating is a pair bond capable of weathering life and maybe sustaining childrearing, which for most people involves sex because it's fun, bonding and is what leads to children. The win condition of dating is not mechanical sex for mechanical sex's own sake.

The thing that progresses dating into greater seriousness is therefore also not a kiss, not a handy, nothing — you can do all of that with whoever you're dating, I don't care, but call me a boomer idk, the period of time that you're in love is supposed to be safe and fun for both parties. The progression of a relationship is about trust, which dies instantly the second dating is no longer both fun and safe.

If feeling safe and having fun does not, in your heart of hearts, include being alone together or handies or head for you (and let's be honest with ourselves, it often doesn't, no one really thinks these kinds of risks to her reputation and human value are fun and safe; when girls engage in these behaviours it's because they live in a bizarro world where for some reason horny boys are allowed to set the rules of mate choice and girls are taught to value being wanted above anything else), that should be respected. If it isn't, stop dating this person.

Lack of willingness to respect women's nonconsent (and telling you not to be a prude is, in fact, disrespect) leads to rape, which used to often lead to children out of wedlock whose lives were doomed to be miserable, which is why so many patriarchal cultures wrote not being in private with unwed women into ritual or customary law and usually tied in metaphysics.

Even back then, people knew that rape can be a profound sociological trauma with very far-reaching consequences and wanted to keep their children from experiencing it, and their grandchildren from living whatever life these circumstances gave them. Not everyone alive in a prevailing social climate agrees with it, but they do all know what the consequences are for acting like it doesn't exist.

And after marriage too, you may not always have the right to say no, but on principle you deserve it just by existing as a human being. No still means no even with a ring on it.

I would (and I have) stop talking to a guy even at the implication of any entitlement to sex; in my culture it's normal to be a virgin until 24 or older nowadays, because marriage is a very long commitment, and sex is always a risk for the woman, and no shit she has the right to discretion. If he wants to gently try to wheedle or pressure you into sex while you're still reasonably in the public eye as a distinct person now, imagine what he'll do when you're married, you're in private together with no witnesses all the time, and his grandma thinks he's entitled to it!

He's not entitled to fuck or damn, but marital rape is much harder to get any recourse for than rape, comma, vanilla (which itself is the farthest thing from a picnic), and not everyone who blogs on the internet has a right to no-fault divorce. Universally applicable advice: either the man you're with is capable of understanding that no means no, or you just don't get into that position with him to begin with. If he has bad vibes, don't give him a chance, leave. If he says or does some weird shit, don't give him the benefit of the doubt, leave. You are always morally in the right for leaving and telling everyone about why.

There may be very little you can do once you're too far in — I'm not saying you shouldn't have the right to leave a bad marriage, I'm saying a lot of people wake up one day to find they don't — so if at all you can choose whether you end up in that position, do everything in your power not to.

There should, also, in principle be standards you should be able to hold men to. Leave if they refuse to be held to standards; they do believe in standards even if they claim not to, just standards only for you. You want the guys that believe sincerely in standards for everyone that you also believe in.

They will be hard to find because their path is thankless and often also considered to be cringe or even juvenile (because very young boys don't know they're supposed to want to hurt women yet, not wanting to hurt women is widely perceived as naive, feminine or infantile among men), but it's the only way to safely be heterosexual. If you need a man (I'm a lesbian but I have brothers I love who feel they need women, and I know full well that it is possible to feel you need a man), pick a good one.

You may be waiting until you're 30, even 40, but the good news is that gives you time to make nesting money and learn who you are, so, you know, different time periods, different priorities.

Secrets of the mothers of Israel or whatever, special for Tumblr: make good choices about your box and hold the men in your life to standards. Otherwise they will make up bad one-sided standards to hold you to and make your stupid box choices for you.

The social coercion women face to date people they’re not attracted to is fucking insane. I remember distinctly thinking “well, I can just force myself to be attracted to him…”

Films, books, etc, all show the trope of beautiful woman and unattractive man. There is still the myth that an unattractive man will treat you better than an attractive one (more women are waking up to this, but still). Even now the left thinks that activism happens between the legs of women.

Don’t date people you’re not attracted to. Don’t feel guilty for not giving them the time of day. No means no.

[writingoddess1125]

Kofi Request

If you want to make request like this one check out my Kofi!

Everything Has a Price

Dark!Kurt Wagner x FemReader

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ Loss of Virginity, Rough sex, Dirty Talk, Dubcon, Biting, Corruption?

I tried really hard! so hope you guys enjoy!

Also! Per request Pixie is added! If you've never heard of the X-Men Pixie here is a link! Very cute character!

18 + Below

"You gotta be Joking- A fucking Fairy?" Logan all but scoffed. The group seemingly on a similar page as him for once-

"Fae which is a type of fairy but different-" Pixie corrected, with some annoyance in her voice. Crossing her arms as she kicked her legs out infront of her as she looked out the window of the jet.

"Fairies are one thing- but the kind of Fae we are looking for closer to like, Magical creature demi-gods. They can do a very wide range of things and are incredibly powerful with magic. However have a bit of a.. wicked streak from what I read" She said calmly, opening up her phone as she looked over the snippet of readings from it.

"So what- We have to drop kick a Leprechaun to get some of this magic shit?-" Logan all but joked as he shook his head.

"Leprechauns are a type of Fae so- Yeah"

The entire group groaned at hearing this, Pixie throwing her hands up as it was clear she was just translating not making the rules.

"This is the dumbest shit I've heard in a long time- You're telling me we may actually have to box a damn Leprechaun.. What lala land bullshit is this?" Logan said a bit sharply, Jean now turning to look at him.

"Sorry but all the stuff we deal with, is a magical creature really the strangest thing-" Jean pointed out, Logan opening his mouth to say something but shrugging in agreement.

"Listen- I don't like this either however- There is some magic that can only come from them supposedly-" Scott grumbled- Jean looking at the page at hand, Dr. McCoy had been kind enough to give them a printout of what was asked, Seeing how it had originally been on a scroll which just felt ridiculous to everyone involved.

While everyone was arguing in the front, Kurt had been quiet-nervously ran his fingers over the Rosary with a far off look-

Ororo who was seated not far from him saw this and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder making him jump a bit as he snapped from his daze.

"Hey, if you want some more time we can take you back.." She offered, But Kurt shook his head calmly with a watery smile.

"No no.. I want to return to help" He said softly, The woman nodding softly in understanding as she took her seat again.

It had been only a short time since Kurt had come back from death- It was something that still plagued him. Everytime he closed his eyes he was back, and it made his coward desperately to God. More then ever before- Defeating his own father.. Xavier Gone which left them all vulnerable- Even Amanda leaving him as his death had been too much for her.. He didn't blame her either.

So now what remained of the team was flying to quite literally get magic to protect what remained of the students.

"Hey I don't make the rules! Besides you guys should had said something if you guys didn't want to go the magic route! We are almost there anyway!" She yelled at them all angrily.

Logan sighed at this. "Where is there anyway?"

"Telluride Colorado" Pixie said, holding her hand up to show the small tracking spell for the Fae on her palm.

This seemed to quell the group for some time. Watching as they approached their destination.

The group looking around in interest at the rather beautiful environment. Seemingly greatful as well for the large forested area that could conceal the X Jet and getting a almost vacation like view.

After landing the group was quick to exit to look around. Kurt looked around seemingly happier them the rest, overall enjoying the scenery of the place- The mountains inviting and the light snow on the ground giving the place a almost whimsical hallmark card feeling.

"Let's get going guys, We really don't want to stay out late if there really is that many fae here.." Pixie said calmly as she snapped them all from their mild sight seeing.

The group quietly agreed before Pixie started up her tracker spell once more and began to lead them through the rich hiking trail- Everyone for the most part seemingly enjoying the walk- a rare setting of peace in their Chaotic life.

Kurt let his eyes wonder around as he saw the beautiful landscape, Pausing at a very pretty looking blue flower that seemed to sway in the snow- Turning to take a closer look as he didn't know flowers could bloom in snow.

His steps beginning to go off the trail but Pixie grabbed Kurt's arm and pull him back to the group at surprising speed-

"Nope- That is a trap, Stay with us all"

"Trap? What do you mean trap?" He questioned, clearly a little dazed.

"Those are setups to lure people like you into their world- And if you go you won't be coming back" This made Kurt shiver in a bit of fear at the seriousness of her words, as well as the words lf a 'their world'.

Pixie decided here infront of them all to lay down some ground rules.

No accepting gifts

No eating their food

No telling them your real name

Don't walk off anywhere

And Never be Rude- Logan...

It was another 45 Minute walk before they saw it.

Pixie released the spell from her hand as they stood infront of a very cute looking home? Just off the beaten trail and tucked in a nice little grove of trees. Kurt looking around with a soft smile, finding the whole thing quite nice, Ororo smiling at Kurt as she saw him relaxed.

The group looked back at Pixie who gave a hesitant Nod- Logan stepped forward first clearly still unamused by this all, banging on the door rather hard as he put his hands back in his pockets.

They stood there for a few seconds, before the door unlocked and opened just a crack.

There stood possibly the prettiest lady that Kurt had ever seen- His face warming a bit the sight of her as she looked to them all.

"How can I help you all?"

She asked kindly, Flashing those pretty eyelashes at them all- seemingly catching them all off guard by how pretty she was.

"You're the Fae apparently we are looking for-" Logan stated calmly- His voice a bit more charmed then before cause of her beauty.

Ororo saw the way her eyes seemed to shimmer as she looked over all of them, Before a kind smile went over her face and she opened the door wider gesturing the group inside.

"Please come in, take a seat"

The group shuffled in, clearly used to immediate threats so a cozy little cottage home made then weirded out truthfully. Especially with how nervous Pixie seemed to be- especially at what seemed to catch all their attention, the thin tail with a puff of (Y/C/H) at the very end that seemed to sway behind her through the rather thin slip dress, paired with what seemed to be wings that showed only in the shadows- clearly a spell hiding them from view.

Being lead to the kitchen table that had seemed set for a feast, like it was waiting for their arrival.

All sitting there, they looked over the spread and then followed the Fae who walked to the stove setting a kettle with a soft hum.

"Now, Let me make some tea for you all. Now may I know who has come to my home?"

"Im Pixie, Wolverine, Cyclops, Storm, Nightcrawler and.. Phoenix" Pixie said quickly as she took the lead, Swallowing thickly as she looked to the women as she started to make the group some tea- All of them felt, Weirdly comforble? Like being in the fuzzy home of a relative, wanting to eat ones fill and take a nap infront of the fireplace.

"So interesting, Mine is (Y/N)" She said calmly, Pixie slightly wrinkling her nose.

"I take it.. That is not your true name?"

The women laughed at this as she turned to look at them all, her tail flickering slightly.

"No you would be correct, that is not my true name- However it is one ive grown fond of. Now what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

She said softly, looking to them all- however her eyes seemed to linger on Kurt a bit longer then most, Ororo catching this immediately as she glanced to her Blue friend who looked flustered.

(Y/N) made his breath catch in his throat, shifting a bit uncomforbly as he kept his gaze lowered to avoid the way the thin fabric wrapped around her hips the way her long thin tail swayed behind her in a slow pattern- oddly hypnotic?

"We are here for help.. We hear you have magic that can protect our school and hopefully give us a upper hand" Scott said, (Y/N) walking to them setting mugs in all their hands with a kind smile, Jean holding out the paper calmly- (Y/N) almost looking like she wanted to laugh in their face as she folded the page and continued her more domestic task.

"... Quite a bit You're asking for"

She said sweetly as she handed the last one to the blue skinned man, he gave a sheepish smile as he took the drink in hand- Seemingly all of them remembering Pixie's words as they all held their cups and looked at the beautiful table of food however not taking a single bite or sip- Kurt almost pouting at this.

"So, Will you help us?" Scott asked, (Y/N) looked to him and smiled.

"For a Price" Scott seemed to bristle at this slightly, Looking to Pixie first who seemed to sigh.

"Everything had a price, Im sure you know that. My magic as well" She said softly, Sipping her tea as the group shifted trying to think.

"What kind of price?" Ororo asked sitting up straigher in her seat, Logan scoffing at this point.

"Fucking Stupid shit.. Let me guess a pot of gold" He grumbled, Pixie looking to him sharply.

(Y/N) smiling at this, A heavy pressure of magic settling on them all like a silent threat- Setting her cup aside as she scanned all of them. Seeing how they all felt her magic almost wrap around them, suffocating and like it was prepared to kill them all.

"Well, Normally I'd demand something I deem as valuable.. Gold is too cheap for your guys request- However I'm generous today! I'll let you think over what you have to offer" She said suddently very cheerful as the pressure seemed to disappear as fast as it appeared. Making everyone seemingly weirded out- Looking to each other in confusion.

Jean stood up at this point, massively uncomfortable it seemed but nodded politely.

"Alright, We will find something to bring to you for the trade off.. We should go, to think about it. Thank you so much for your time"

She said quickly, Pixie following foot as the two women got everyone to almost run from the house. Kurt a bit slower as he felt something.. As (Y/N) eyes followed him as he was rushed out.

"That was... Something" Kurt mumbled, Rubbing his arm clenching his Rosary tighter.

'Return'

A voice sounded in his ear, his eyes widening as he turned back just in time to see (Y/N) Give him a sly smile as the front door closed behind him.

The group left that night back to the Jet to rest and talk about what they could offer-The group going back and forth in arguing.

Kurt however was seperate, quiet as he let his mind wonder, she wanted him back.. He could help- If she wanted to meet with him it ment he could help.

With a heavy sigh, He teleported from the Jet- Landing outside as he ventured on his own back to the Fae house.

Stepping through the snow he took a heavy breath as he raised his hand to knock but the door swung open before he could even knock.

She stood there as alluring as when he'd first seen her. Silently she waved him in with a smile, Kurt skittish as ever stepped inside as the door swung behind him.

Her hand taking his own as she lead him to the livingroom, Her hands going over his arms making him shiver slightly.

"I'm glad you returned, Now we can decide the price- You are worth more then what your friends are standing there arguing over"

Kurt's eyes widened at her words and how much her hands were on him- His face starting to flush when her hand found its way to his cheek.

"What would I be worth?"

He said sheepishly, as he looked to her. Seeing the way she held his cheek in her soft hand, thumb running at the corner of his lips.

"More then you know it seems" She hummed, circling him like prey.

"A man back from the dead-" She whispered, His shoulders stiffening at her words as she pressed her back into him. His face flushing as he felt ever detail of her body against him.

"As pure as he left, possibly more so on the return.. especially for a Neyaphem.. So unique"

A shiver went up his spine at her words, his stomach curdling at this. He'd learned of his half Heritage only after his return, not even telling his dear friends of this.

"So I wish to trade something with you for my help" She hummed, running her fingers through his dark hair.

"Are you talking about my soul?" He mumbled softly, making her chuckle as she circled him.

"No No, Never your soul.. You're innocence" Kurt jumping at hearing this as he stared at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) chuckling at this.

"You won't even realize it's gone.. Besides, How much is it really worth to you? To help your friends? Help the world? It's something people lose everyday- How different could it be for you?"

He blinked in surprise, still flushed at the offer of taking something like that from him- Especially as she placed both hands on his chest, making it so hard to focus with how he could see practically down the slip dress.

However.. It didn't seem that bad Afterall.. He had never been with anyone before and- there are worse ways to lose your virginity.

Especially losing it to someone as pretty as her-

"Just that?.. And you'll help my friends?" He asked softly, (Y/N) smiling at him and nodding.

"So, Do we have a deal?"

Her hand snaked down from his chest and sliding down his toned arms as her fingers moved just under his hand right under his Rosary waiting for it in her delicate hand.

Kurt hesitating for a second, fear gripping his heart- before slowly lowering the sacred jewelry into her palm and watching her fingers wrap around it and carefully pull away from his sight, feeling something pull away from him in his chest.

"We.. Have a Deal"

With that she leaned up and captured his lips on hers, Kurt's eyes widening at this- As the sweet taste of her lips made him melt, his hands naturally finding their way to her hips as he felt her deepen the kiss.

He stumbled back feeling the world warp slightly before the room changed, not knowing how they got to what seemed to be her bedroom- as the back of his legs hit the bed and he fell back, seeing (Y/N) staring down with a almost wicked smile. She flicked her wrist as his pants were undone and sliding down his hips- Revealing the rather large erection that was barely concealed by the plain white boxers.

(Y/N) leaning up as she crawled up his body, Kurt tail curling in on itself in worry- However the feeling of her own wrapping around his seemed to catch his attention.

"Relax~"

She purred, Kurt nodding softly as the fae pulled down his boxers- His cock springing free damn near purple with how aroused he was, The man turning his face to the side in embarrassment. (Y/N) reached forward and turned his face back to stare at her, Seating herself just before his cock as she pulled the slip dress off herself.

Poor Kurt mind went blank, Seeing her body bare to the cool room as she sat before him. Kurt almost felt like he was gonna cum just from the sight before him- (Y/N) giggling seeing how his cock began to leak pre almost immediately, Her thumb rubbing over the head of his cock softly.

"Such a sweet thing you are~"

Rising up making sure he could see her cunt in all its glory she almost teasingly rubbed her core against the head of his cock- Watching how his hips bucked up almost by instinct as he let a shaky moan leave him before (Y/N) lowered herself onto him.

A small hiss falling from Kurt's lips as he felt her sink onto him, His back arching as he felt those velvet like walls wrap around him. A wash of pleasure going threw him as he felt her settle on him fully, He swore he could see god behind her as she rolled her hips on him- His toes curling in delight as he felt her start to bounce on his cock, A new sensation starting to burn in his chest like fire as he felt her- Like she was the most addictive drug he had never taken.

The way her breast bouncing with every move of her hips almost hypnotic and driving him deeper into the pit of bliss- (Y/N) began to let breathy moans leave past her lips, Leaning back as she began to pick up the pace. A few curses leaving her as well feeling the way he seemed to hit those deepest places inside of her.

Kurt head flew back, Growling as he grabbed her hips like his life depended on it. Thrusting up into her as he felt her tighten around him a gasp leaving him as much faster then he intended bucked into her hard as he came inside of her- (Y/N) giggling at this, Clearly having expected this to not last long, He was a virgin afterall.

Kurt body seemed to still almost like a statue as (Y/N) slid off him, a look of amusement on her face as she assumed he was embarrassed and would be prepared to leave after his inexperienced self came. Besides she got her payment Afterall.

However Kurt's eyes seemed to follow her watched her as she panted only softly, Seemingly satisfied with her choice of action.. his gaze darker as he felt his stomach twist in anger and.. Something new? Like a hold on his chest was suddenly gone? And it felt.. Good?

However now pissed at this Fae.. How dare she leave him there still hard and only wanting to take this thing from him- and having the audacity to laugh at him!

And worse..

He wasn't satisfied..

He wasn't satisfied at all!

Kurt hand shot out and wraps around her ankle still on the bed and yanks her back to him- A surprised noise leaving her as she looked back at him in shock. In the dark bedroom (Y/N) could only see the wide fanged smile and those yellow eyes that seemed different from before-

His hand on her ankle is replaced by his spaded tail, Now pressing on the center of her back right between those pretty wings and yanking her tail to keep her plump ass up- A squeal leaving her lips, Her fingers digging into the already messy sheets as he had her pinned.

"Y-You already gave your payment! What the hell are you-"

She was cut off as her face was pushed into the mattress harshly only catching the glow of his eyes as his lean muscle managed to keep her put.

"I don't feel like I got a fair deal of that 'payment'-"

(Y/N) could almost hear the smile in his voice, Pursing her lips she prepared to hit him with her magic but- Nothing happened... Wiggling in shock as she tried again but felt his yank her tail harder making her whimper.

Her eyes widening as a sinking feeling settled in her chest- Maybe that innocence was far more valuable then she thought... possibly the leash that kept a Neyaphem from being free on earth.

And the leash that kept those Neyaphem abilties from coming to the surface. Nullifying her own..

"Now Now- I was only teasing little one~ L-Lets come to a new agreement" (Y/N) said with a chuckle as she heard him chuckle behind her- Feeling his cock press against her cunt.

"Now~ Why would I do that Maus?~"

He purred out, Before with a hard thrust of his hip burying into deeply into her causing a loud moan to go through her. As fast as he had buried himself into her, he pulled out as he slammed back in.

Kurt not letting up as he held her in place, and his tail wrapped around that leg of hers as he fucking the fae into the mattress- hunched over her form watching the way her ass rippled with each movement of his hips, eyes almost glazed over in primal delight. Her nails digging into the sheets tearing into them as she felt herself cum- Burning embarrassment burning through her, as the roles had been switched and she came faster then intended.

"You wanted die Unschuld? Ja? How does it feel Maus?" He laughed, feeling how she came around him- Seeing how her toes curled and legs began to quake. How she looked to dumb and blissed out with her cheek pressed into the mattress those pretty eyes that had lured him in before half lidden and edged with tears. A fanged grin in joy at having reversed the roles.

"I don't hear you!~" He grunted out, Yanking at her tail again making her moan/cry out.

"I-It feels good!" She whimpered out, Looking back at him a few hiccupping moans managing to slip out.

"Aww so sweet~ Is my pretty fairy sorry for trying to skip out on me? Leaving me wanting? Giving me the bare minimum?~" Kurt said, his voice almost a coo as he still hadn't removed his cock from her. (Y/N) nodding rapidly.

"Wunderbar!~ Now like you before, I haven't gotten my ending yet" He chuckled out, seeing the way her eyes widened as he grabbed both her legs- Sitting up to his full hight as he chuckled at the image.

Her back arched painfully as he pounded into her with a harsh and brutal pace- Seeing how (Y/N) almost scrambled to escape from the overwhelming pleasure, her tail pressing against his chest. Kurt nipping her tail hearing the noise she made, Growling in warning as he grunted.

"Why move?! You love it don't you!"

He hissed at her, Feeling how her cunt fluttered around him at the pain mixed with the pleasure.

"Y-Yes! I love it I-I fuck~! I love it!~" She sobbed out, Feeling him press into the dips of her hip as she came undone by him.

"Meine hübsche Hure~! Giving magic for cock! Who knew how desperate you are!" He made fun of her, his moving to under her raised hips as the spade of his tail rubbed over her clit- feeling her jerk as her body shook.

(Y/N) screamed out, Feeling her walls tightened around his cock once more as she came- spots going over her vision as she overstimulated and shaking from pleasure. Tears rolling down her cheeks from bliss, as she felt him pull out- The feeling of their mix of cum running down her bruised thighs.

Panting hard as the world seemed to spin and she couldn't even tell what position she was in- Till thick finger pressed into her still aching cunt. A broken moan leaving her sore throat.

"T-Too Much!~"

Kurt pressed his finger into her more pressing against that soft spongy spot of her bruised walls making her toes curl and whimper around the diget. The male smirking as he saw the ruined hole shiv around his finger.

"Aww~ Enttäuschend, I thought a all powerful fae could handle more"

He cruelly cackled, pulling his hand back as he slapped her ass hard watching how the skin started to bruise immediately before pulling her tail back up slamming his hips back into her- Hearing that loud squeal rip threw her. What could only be described as a rumbling growl leaves his throat as he grabs a fistful of her beautiful hair, yanking it back roughly as he heard her cry out in bliss- as he pulled her back flushed against his chest upright for all to see.

(Y/N) bouncing up and down with each thrust as he held her up, Eyes rolled in overstimulation she desperately tried to grab his thighs for some form of stability.

Slamming his hips up into her making sure to keep her put by her hair, feeling how her back arched into his own- those delicate wings almost crushed between her back and his chest. Broken moans staring to leave Kurt as sweat gathered on his brow- Rolling his hips up into her as he felt the coil in him build up once more as he grunted in her ear.

His fanged teeth biting down harshly on the side her neck- The rush of magical blood flooding his senses as he cum deep inside her coating those 'all powerful' walls once more, pride filling his chest as he heard the whimpering choked moans from his conquest below him- knowing she would never forget him.

Kurt pulled back, letting the flat of his tongue drag over the fresh wound as he held the fae in place. Turning her head towards him by her hair still as he kissed her, allowing her to taste herself as he dominated her mouth. Pulling back as he chuckled seeing her dazed eyes at him, shivering against his body clearly exhausted by the rather rough treatment.

"Now~ I do think you are due for your end of the bargen~"

That morning Kurt returned to the Jet, The group who had been outside clearly prepared with a plan and also wondering out loud where their blue friend was when they saw him Bamf not far from them all.

A large apple in hand that he seemed to be finishing up as he held up a cloth bag with his tail, Giving it a slight shake for them to see.

"Got what was needed and seemingly extra.. Let's head back to the Mansion"

Pixie looked up at him, feeling something was off.... terribly terribly off that made her stomach drop, Looking to the apple he had finished off and tossed in the trash. Seemingly everyone else had the off feeling about him too...

How he stood a bit straighter, his shoulders more relaxed and a more.. devilish look to his face? Like that baby sweetness he had been ripped from him.

Paired with what was the most noticable.. Rosary that had been always been in his hands was missing.

Everyone was dead silent, seemingly not willing to ask any sort of questions.

And quietly they went to the Jet, boarding as Kurt seeming to linger outside just a bit longer looking in the direction of the cottage before heading in.

Taking his seat Kurt leaned back, seemingly tired as he drapped his arm over his eyes to cover the light of the Jet, paired with a feeling of two knots growing at the front of his head that made his head hurt and throb.

"Hey Kurt.."

He lifted his arm, almost feeling a peg of annoyance as he followed the direction of the voice. Ororo seated not far from him as she looked to him with a peg of concern.

"What.. did you give to her?"

Kurt pausing as his tail flicked next to him a bit sharply enough to cut the air, as a fanged smile went over his lips- Looking at Ororo who felt a shiver go down her spine at the smile that greeted her.

"Nothing of importance anymore"

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"You are." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

To Daryl, you are different, you are special, you are everything. But when his jealousy over a "prank" from your friend leads to a misunderstanding you can't resolve, and an incident the next day that nearly costs you your life, it causes Daryl to have a huge revelation about his feelings for you.

@artsynana: heyy dear!! i was wondering if you could ever write something with some soft jealous daryl x reader at the prison era, btw i love the way you write daryl🥰

A/N: Hi love. First, sorry! I didn't know you had left a request :( but thank you so much for doing it. This is a little short and different :( and a little more dramatic, but I really hope you like it♥ And for your words, thank u again! I think I write Daryl a little bit off the character, but I guess it's because I picture him like that hehe

Daryl Dixon is not a possessive person, never, but he is not made of steel either, that’s way he’s unable to stop jealousy from creeping up on him.

The night is ending inside the prison, the heat of the day floating in the air, but the still warm weather seems to hang over Daryl almost in a suffocating way. As he continues to wait for his dinner, he has a panoramic view of you across the dining room, sitting in the long steel chair, elbows on the table, always accompanied by that pretty boy Sean, with his stupid green eyes and that stupid smile, following you ever since Daryl rescued his group from the governor.

And Daryl hates not being able to hate you for the senseless jealousy that you make him feel now, as he thought he did in the past.

Daryl hated ​​you for being a badass, like the afternoon you showed up to save his ass back in Atlanta, like a force of nature, like a fucking storm–sweeping away the little peace he managed to find at the end of the world, shaking his own with your magnetic presence. But he also hated how your strong gaze could rest, turning you into an angel when he could see the tenderness in your soft smile, and your dreamy eyes when things got a little bit better in that grey world.

The secret of his hate was because of your selfishness, your wild and free heart, and that fucking dimple that formed on your left cheek, so yeah, he fell hard for that, he fell hard for you. But no one knew about your relationship, everyone blind to those little displays of affection: the casual brush of your hands, the secret smiles, the way his hand rested on the side of your neck before he kissed you.

“You are like… staring much. Don't you think?" Carol chuckles beside him, making Daryl look away from you as he takes his plate. "Damn, pookie, you are not subtle at all."

She continues with the bland jokes; the same ones she’s been making since Carol caught the way Daryl looked at you.

"Shut up." He hisses, turning his attention back to the food.

But Carol is not ready to give up.

"I once read that when a feeling is silenced, bottled up or imprisoned, the eyes, the lover’s gazes scream everything."

Daryl frowns, confused.

"What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout?"

She chuckles, crossing her arms.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that maybe you should start making it clear to everyone that (Y/N) is with you."

He clears his throat, but the heat on his cheeks burns more than the sun on that season.

"Ya knew?"

"No. You just told me." Carol turns around towards the pot to serve herself a plate, Daryl narrowing his eyes at her, even if she isn’t looking at him.

"But, uh... like what?" He asks after a few seconds, hoping that Carol will understand the question without him having to spell it out for her.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe approach her not only when you two are alone.”

Carol smiles at Daryl, walking away to leave him with the weight of his thoughts.

Daryl Dixon is a strong man, to survive, to protect, but as a boy who grew tall but is still a boy on the inside, he feels lost with the feelings he keeps inside him, not knowing what to do with them. He had had casual encounters in bars, but was too drunk to even remember, to even care about them. But you are different, you are special, you are everything. That’s why, even with his heart hammering in his chest, Daryl walks over to the last table, eyes fixed on your profile, his sometimes noisy mind disappearing the rest as he sets his plate down on the table before sitting down next to you, ignoring the confused look from Sean, who was silent for a second in shock before resuming his story of a past life on his farm with the rest.

“The lake water is cold during that season…” He keeps talking, oblivious to the way you hold your breath when you feel Daryl's fingers on your lower back.

But out of nowhere, his hand begins to seek out the skin beneath, a light touch over the edge of your black t–shirt until he finds the warmth of your flesh. Your back arches slightly beneath his calloused fingers on your skin, but you try to control your body as your dirty thoughts begin to overflow.

The small group is so wrapped up in the funny anecdote that no one notices the way Daryl leans in close.

"Breathe, peach, ‘fore ya pass out."

His words are the jolt back to reality, and you let out a breath as you squint, your hand darting from your lap to his leg, only to pinch his skin over his pants with your fingers. As a reflex, his leg jumps slightly, but Daryl takes the attack with a smirk that is almost imperceptible to the rest of them, but not to you.

"Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Sean glances in your direction, catching your gaze and a confused expression that silently prompts him to repeat his question. "You told me you dated a guy who looked like me."

Confused, you clear your throat.

“Yeah. Uh, but we separated long before all this...”

Mary nods, a young woman who came with Sean’s group.

“Wow. He must have been really handsome. But did you love him, (Y/N)?”

Your skin feels cold again when Daryl's hand leaves your body, even if your skin feels boiling hot when the attention falls on you like the midday sun in that stifling season. As if someone had put their hand on your throat until it was blocked from air, your uncomfortable laughter comes out muffled, but you don’t answer before changing topics. But it's sad that after a short while, Daryl stands up to go to his own cell, his thoughts run wild about the jealousy he feels about that guy, thinking that there was someone who made you feel something when, for him, you were his first everything.

When dinner time is over and everyone returns to their cells, you find yourself timidly entering Daryl's cell only because his door was still open, but staying close to it. He’s lying on his back, eyes fixed on the arrow in his hands just to keep himself busy.

“Hey. Uh, can we talk?”

“’bout what?”

His voice is flat, not a single emotion in it.

“About what happened in the dining room with Sean.”

 “What ‘bout it?”

You shrug, even if he isn’t looking at you.

“Don’t know exactly, but I think I made you feel uncomfortable.”

Daryl scoffs.

“Ya didn't make me feel anythin’.”

His words form a lump in your throat, completely silencing the truth you were going to tell, just because your own anxious mind tells you that you don't make him feel anything, at all, like never, and that is painful.

“Okay, uh, I don’t want to force you to talk so… I guess I’m gonna go. Oh, we'll leave early tomorrow for the run, by the way.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You sigh, walking away.

But jealousy is an irrational force, but a force of nature that resembles a hurricane, or any destructive phenomenon inside a timid and fearful mind: that’s why when the early morning arrives and the first ray of sun shines on the horizon, Daryl decides to switch places with Glenn, just so he wouldn't be stuck with his thoughts of you in a car for hours.

However, the day grows tedious for him, even in the small details like the wind blowing dust into his face, or the way the walkers keep piling up against the fence, taking the place of the lifeless body when Daryl stabs his knife into their skulls. But before his ocean–blue eyes can see the car returning at a worrying speed, his ears can hear the horn, like a desperate call that makes his heart wake up frantically.

“Someone is hurt.” Carol tells him, a second before they start running towards the main fence.

Maggie and Rick are closer and they open the gates, the car raising tornadoes of dust until it stopped inside the prison. Michonne steps out of the passenger seat as Daryl and Carol arrive to meet her, Bob and Glenn following as she begins to narrate the horror story.

“… and one of those men was behind me, (Y/N) shot him but another stabbed her in the abdomen.”

The back door of the car is open, but like a roller coaster of emotions, Daryl’s heart is so up that it threatens to stop because of the fear, as if it stopped pumping blood to replace it with an infinite void. But he refuses to listen to the death whispering in his ear that you won’t make it as he carries you, arms under your shoulders and knees.

“Call Hershel!” He says, to whoever is faster as Daryl starts waking fast, because, even though he wants to run to catch the seconds that seem to slip away, your body feels as fragile as porcelain.

And it’s crazy, it’s wild the way Herself has to perform a surgery to control the bleeding on the same table where the night before your and his playful fingers had teased each other, minutes before ruining it all with your silence and his jealousy. But when it's all over and the madness has cleared like a thick fog, he finds himself sitting on the edge of your bed, taking in the way your closed eyelids make you look like you're just asleep and not unconscious.

“She will make up, Daryl.” Carol says softly, standing close to him. “It’s late, you should rest.”

He shakes his head.

“Nah. I’m stayin’ here with her. Don’ want her to be alone when she does.”

Carol nods, knowing perfectly nothing will change his mind.

“Okay, Pookie, I will come to check on you both in the morning.”

She kisses his forehead, but Daryl is too absent to notice as she leaves the room. The entire prison falls into a deep sleep, and Daryl can hear the almost imperceptible sound of your breathing fighting against the almost deafening silence of his world, telling him without words that you are there, and that you are not going anywhere. But after a while, Daryl lies down on his right side, still close to the edge of the bed to give you all the space you needed, but able to leave only that small space between his body and yours.

“Fuck… now I know I love ya, peach.” He whispers, shy and scared you can hear him even like that. “That seems to be the only answer to why I almost lost ma shit when I saw ya there… bleedin’ out. Jesus, ya would probably laugh if ya saw me here now scared to death like a damn child.” Daryl tries to laugh, a nervous little laugh that falls to a heavy sigh. “Please, wake up, okay? I promise I’ll be better.”

But since there is no answer from the other end, his words hang in the air for the rest of the night, even after Daryl falls asleep. However, as the sun begins to peek through one of the prison's tall windows one more time, your eyelids open slightly, the world in front of you blurring for an instant, until your scattered senses become one and focus on the pain pounding your abdomen.

But still, you turn your head slightly to the side when your peripheral vision catches a body beside yours, smiling weakly at the image before you. Daryl's hair covers part of his closed eyes, but his slight frown reflects his concern, even if you don't know that.

You raise your arm until your hand touches the skin of his face, soft flesh under your fingers.

“Daryl?” Your voice brings him back easily, walking him up from that terrifying dream as he sits up, his hand cupping the side of your face just to feel that you're actually awake.

"Ya okay, peach, ya okay."

“Am I? Since when I’m here?”

Daryl sighs, but he decides to mask his fear with humor, just because he feels like he can spill all his feelings for you in a single second.

“Jus' a day, but ya took yer sweet time to wake up, woman.”

“Sorry.”

You chuckle shyly, but his gaze turns soft.

“Nah. Don’t be, I’m jus’ so glad ya came back.” Concern allows him to smile slightly, before telling you that he's going to go find Hershel.

The examination lasts a few minutes, until you two are left alone, again.

“Daryl…” One more time, your voice pulls his eyes towards yours the moment he sits back down. “Sean was messing with you. You know? I was going to tell you about it that night before all this, but you didn’t want to listen and I didn’t want to push you to.”

Embarrassed, Daryl lowers his head a little bit, watching you through his long hair.

“M’ sorry, peach. I was jealous of ‘em and I ended up sayin’ the wrong shit again.”

Them.

“Daryl, that’s exactly what I was going to tell you that night. There was never another guy, Sean made up that story to get a reaction out of you because even he can see how much you want to kick his ass every time you see him coming." You chuckle. "Besides, he’s gay.”

Daryl blinks, confused like never in his life.

“He is?”

You nod.

“Yep, really gay, but don’t worry, Sean has a crush on Glenn because you look too intimidating for his like.” You want to laugh, but you can see his own shame sinking his heart heavily, feeling the pain and guilt for letting you go alone, because Daryl is a protector: that is in his nature.

And when things went wrong, that weight fell on his shoulders.

"Sorry, I think I screwed this thing between us."

And in a second and with an overwhelming strength, you can see his eyes becoming teary with all the feelings he has inside him.

"No. You didn't, Daryl, unless you want this to end."

But he shakes his head.

"No. I don' want it to ever end."

You nod softly.

"Good." When your hand catches his, Daryl clings to it, but you don't force him to talk because you know better than anyone that it was difficult for him to express himself. "Now come, lie down and try to sleep. Okay?”

He nods, laying down next to you, too overwhelmed to speak his mind at that very moment, his hand still holding yours even after he falls asleep when his mind can no longer carry the full weight of his thoughts. But while he does, you can't help but smile slightly, because now, awake, you are convinced that his voice saying I love you was not just part of the dream you were having, sweet words you hope you can tell him soon.

[bless-my-demons]

Rain Soaked Confessions

Paul Lahote x Reader

Summary: You’re scared to death, but he isn’t. Just give in.

Warnings: smidge of angst if you squint, so much fucking fluff it’ll rot your teeth.

Notes: I wasn’t even going to put dialogue in this until I saw a TikTok of Robin Williams reading a love poem by Pablo Neruda (hint: it’s the beginning of the confession). It’s all reader’s POV and I’m fairly certain I managed to make it gender neutral again. God I love writing this man.

Word count: 1100

Masterlist

Cool Pacific rain pelts my skin, but I welcome it. I welcome the icey drops as they start to soak me down to the very marrow of my bones.

Eyes closed, face turned towards the sky, arms limp at my sides, breath tearing in and out of my lungs at a rate that brings a certain level of awareness to my body.

I long since stopped caring if the water pooling around my eyelids was from the sky or my tear ducts. It didn’t matter, none of it did.

My clothes were soaked, suctioned to my body - I could feel the heat of my skin leaking away, replaced with a coldness that began to border on painful. Goosebumps littered my skin the longer I stood here trying to cleanse myself of this… this pain in my chest.

This pain that threatens to cave my chest in, that steals my breath, that makes my heart soar and sink all the same. This pain that invades every inch of my brain, rotting me from within.

This pain that’s not actually pain.

Not really, because I know what it truly is.

It’s love.

Love that is damn near debilitating.

Breath continues to rip in and out past chapped lips that quiver from the weight of my thoughts. Thoughts of him.

A clap of thunder jolts me from my reverie with a gasp, my eyes snapping towards a figure standing at the edge of the forest watching me, quietly. Not just anyone, but him.

Paul.

We stare at each other, only 20 yards or so separating us. Still as statues, afraid to make the first move.

He’s just as soaked as I feel, the short black strands of his usually neat hair sticking to his forehead, water dripping down his beautiful face. Rain beating over his shoulders and down his uncovered chest. A chest heaving in time with mine, but the roar of the rain in the trees cover our combined exhales that I’m sure have to be deafening.

It’s like he’s a mirage, a figment of my imagination. This man has invaded every thought and now I’m afflicted with hallucinations of him too? As if this torture wasn’t enough? As if this crippling black hole in my chest wasn’t big enough? All-encompassing enough?

I rub at the tightness across my clavicle, every gulp of air I try to suck down not making a difference in the tightness of my throat.

The action draws his eyes, and his body too, apparently. His advance forward is slow and deliberate. Every step crumbling the ice I’ve tried to pack around my heart, these feelings.

I start to panic, no - I’m not ready.

I’m not ready to fall, not again.

I’ve never met a man worth holding my heart, trustworthy enough, gentle enough, kind enough.

Not until him.

My eyes slide shut as he takes the final steps to close the gap between us. I can feel the heat radiating from him just inches away and my panic increases, I have to hurry. I have to hurry and build this wall around my heart before he can-

A strong, burning finger tilts my chin upwards and it’s like sunlight kissing my skin, pouring in through the cracks in my hastily stacked armor. Warm, home, love, Paul.

My eyes creak open, afraid of what they might see in his own brown depths.

Endless devotion, eternity, serenity. That’s what they find. Unwavering love, solid and sure.

Oxygen ceases to make its way inside my chest, constricting painfully at the grip his intensity has over me.

He has to see how this is flaying me straight to the bone, how he’s dismantling every protection I’ve put in place to protect myself by just being.

My mouth opens but I can’t force words out, what’s there to say? I’m sorry, I can’t do this - it’s too much?

His eye contact doesn’t waiver, even as the rain pours over his cheek bones and drips straight down onto my own.

I can’t resist - my hands settle on his chest, to push him away or soak up more of his warmth, I don’t know.

Finally he moves, slowly dipping his head. My eyes slip shut, completely at his mercy. His lips brush feather-light at my temple, drifting to the other side in equal measure, heat refilling my skin as his mouth maps my face. Then down to the apple of my cheek, grazing my nose with reverence on his path across my face before his hand slides across my jaw to the nape of my neck.

I sink into him, resolve melting away as his heat pushes into me. A sigh leaves my lips as his mouth presses a barely-there kiss to the corner of my mouth.

My awareness narrows down to the way my lips tingle where his mouth just barely touches mine.

Time slows as I just wait.

One heartbeat. Then another.

Surely he’ll take pity on me? Please, oh god please.

“I love you”. His voice is deep. Sure. Confident. Soft.

Time must’ve stopped.

“I love you, without knowing how. Or when. Or from where.” The tremble begins in my legs. “I love you straightforwardly. Without complexities or pride.” My knees feel weak with every word his lips breathe across my mouth. “I love you, because I know no other way than this. I love you with every drum beat in my heart, as dictated by the ancestors. And I will love you even past the end of time. I’ll love you so proudly that I’ll see that it’s written in the history of my tribe-our tribe. I’ll love you so completely that you have no choice but to give me every little piece of your heart that you’ve squirreled away inside of yourself, afraid to bask in the sun, afraid of the love you know you deserve.”

His confession has more tears than rain sliding down my face.

My voice is a rugged gasp, “Paul.”

His lips seal over my own, as if to solidify this pledge of his love permanently.

His kiss is love. Pure love. And light. And home. And everything I hoped it’d be. Warm, gentle, understanding, yielding, kind.

His mouth is unhurried in its exploration of mine, curious in its mapping of my lips, patient and giving.

My hands surge into his wet hair, fingers sliding home as I press fully against him, mouth slotting against his in a desperate way. Two puzzle pieces, him and I, clicking flush together in a way words could only ever fail to describe.

Paul Lahote is my home. He is tender, he is light, he is love. He is exactly what I’ve been missing all this time, he is worth every single bit of pain I’ve ever felt in this life if it means leading to this.

To us.

[mischieffae]

After Hours | Loki x Fem!reader

Summary: Spending the majority of the evening working on an important business project, the two of you find release within the empty building's cubicles. Who knew that a time crunch could unleash all this pent up tension?

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, fingering, squirting, rolled up sleeves (because that's a thing yes), half clothed sex, using the office desk inappropriately, hanging on with the tie for dear life

Word Count: 1,881k

Notes: This was supposed to be TVA Season 2 Loki. But it turned into corporate office AU. But you can still picture him as such. Listen, I have a thing for this type of scenario ok? I don't know jack shit about corporate but I do know a lot about smut, so that's all that matters. 😈

The soft ticking of your office's clock was driving you slowly mad, each little noise an irritating scratch against your brain. The computer screen's blue tint made your eyes burn with exhaustion. It was half past midnight, an absurd time to be still working on the company's reports but someone had to do it. Asgard Inc. didn't really care how it got done, but IF it got done. Thankfully your colleague Loki Laufeyson decided to tag along for the ride, most likely regretting his decision as you hear him sigh in boredom while typing away.

Maybe this would get you a raise? You highly doubt it. Perhaps a good ol' pat on the back, a gold star? Or a pizza party.

Speaking of food.

Your stomach grumbles in protest, a finger loudly clicking down on the mouse with enthusiasm as you finish your last line on the excel sheet. Tired hands lift to run across your eyes, totally forgetting about the 12 hour mascara that you're still wearing.

Fuck it.

You can hear a small chuckle from the cubicle next to yours, a rustling of feet sounding before a familiar head looks over the wall.

"You finished already? I think that's a new record you know."

Makeup smeared eyes raise towards his voice, your brows furrowing from the incoming headache. Why didn't he look as disheveled as you? He was here as long as you were, perhaps a couple hours more. And yet here he stood, hair still gorgeously intact, tie a bit loose but nothing tragic. Probably didn't even notice the time on the clock since he's had way more coffee than you. It wasn't fair.

"Record for the slowest report on Earth maybe. What about you speedy? You must've finished hours ago."

"Two, actually. Then I was just getting caught up on emails."

Of course he was. You give an eye roll with a groan, a wide smile forming on his face in victory. The two of you had made it a game that whoever would finish first when it came to reports, the loser had to buy the other coffee the next morning.

For you, this was strike five.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, this time was a lot for you."

Was that sarcasm dripping off his tone?

"Why are you even still here anyways? Trying to gloat and rub it in my face? Not going to work Laufeyson."

Loki slyly brought himself away from the other side of your cubicle to stand proudly in front of you. You forgot how tall he was, your throat bobbing slightly as your eyes noticed the one little detail that always seemed to unravel you.

Those damn sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off those perfect forearms with small veins protruding off on them.

Shit.

"Now why would I do such an awful, terrible thing like that? I'm only here for moral support."

It was no secret that the two of you have been quite obviously attracted to one another, often sending each other small flirtatious signals that even a blind person could sense. Was it slightly embarrassing knowing that the whole company was aware of your devious attractions? Perhaps, but when it came to Loki you couldn't bring yourself to care anymore.

It also helped that he was a higher up. You were safe in that regard.

Your legs instinctually cross over one another, the fabric of your skirt rising to show a little more skin. Which, he was definitely eating this shit up.

"Why wouldn't you? It's in your nature, after all."

Oh, that seemed to get him. It was as if a switch had been turned on, the playfulness on his face morphing into a shade of desire that made your heart clench inside your beating chest. Suddenly you felt like a rabbit snared in a trap, the fox leaning forward to inhale the scent of timidness.

"Is that so? Hopefully a nature that you thoroughly enjoy.."

You didn't realize how close he was until a hand reached forward to ghost along your jaw, a finger curling around a loose strand of your hair.

There was no turning back now.

" .. - Always..."

Loki's mouth clenches slightly as he lifts you from your rolling chair with a swift movement, a strong hand resting on the dip of your back. The other, begins to hold the juncture of your throat and jawline tenderly. The twig has been snapped between the two of you, your eyes fluttering as he slowly leans inward to brush his cold lips against your own flushed ones.

"...Good."

The floodgates of desire finally thrust open, your mouths clashing together in a passionate slow dance. You swear you could hear a soft moan escape from his throat, your lips parting to allow his skillful tongue to wrap around yours. He tastes of fresh mint, and a slight taste of coffee beans, his cologne of crisp pine filling your nostrils in a heavenly aroma.

Gods you wanted to be devoured.

He pulls back with heavy breaths, lips pressing lewd kisses under the dip of your ear. You could hear his desire, his hot breath tickling your skin as you let him ravage your flesh. Shaking fingers lift to grab upon his leather belt for support, pulling towards your willing body in a desperate sharp motion. A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, his breath tickling your ear.

"If you want it, take it."

You swear he would be the death of you.

With a slight whine, your fingers quickly tug with annoyance as you unbuckle the belt, throwing the offending piece of clothing to the floor with a loud clank. Was he chuckling from your excitement?

Cheeky bastard. No matter, you'll have him singing a different tune soon enough.

You pull back to gaze into his eyes wantonly, a hand slithering inward to wrap around his hard length in triumph. Your hand begins a steady rhythm, twisting in just the right places as his hips roll into your grasp with a low pleasurable groan. A thumb presses upon his swollen head, his lashes fluttering against his high flush cheekbones. You could tell he was holding back and it made your heart flutter in excitement.

"What's that? Cat got your tongue so soon?"

Perhaps not the best thing to say in the moment, or perhaps it was. You couldn't decide. But he seemed to take your words as a challenge, his hand roughly moving yours out of his trousers before the other swept the items off your desk in one quick action.

Well that wasn't planned.

Loki's eyes are filled with mischief before he lifts your body to settle your back along the desk's surface, his hands moving to lift your skirt to settle upon your hips. Two can play at this little game.

"Not yet darling..."

His pupils are blown with lust, breaths releasing heavily past parting lips as his hands move to rub small circles on your hipbones. It causes your toes to curl in your heels, your back lifting upward to press into his grasp. There was a small silent plea in his eyes, and only you could ease the hesitance that stood before you.

"Then get on with it.."

If you could burn this memory in your head forever, you would. To see such a desperate man on his knees, his lips trailing along plush thighs while he lets your calves rest on his shoulders....it was almost too much. Your breath hitches as you feel his fingers roughly move your soaked panties to the side of your apex, your throbbing sex on full display for his pleasure.

You swear you heard him say something, beautiful, exquisite, along those lines. But words mean nothing right now, only actions.

A cry you haven't heard before escapes your lips as his hot mouth finds your dripping folds. He is a man starving, a moan rumbling against your clit as he devours you whole. His fingers tighten on the flesh of your thighs, your hands moving downward to grip raven locks as you buck into his mouth in rolling movements. Gods, it was heaven, that bastard so skilled with his tongue you for sure thought you'd faint right then and there. You moan his name with encouragement, his mouth pulling back to insert two strong fingers inside your core.

You lift your head to gaze towards your entrance, and what you find could only be described as ethereal. His mouth is glistening from your sex, his hair tousled from the roughness of your pulls. But what really got you was seeing his vein forearm thrust in quick upward motions, a breathless smile forming on his flushed face as he stimulates you to your climax.

"Come for me baby, come all over me.."

A coil tightens in your stomach before it unleashes with a tidal wave, your back arching in a tight motion before yelling out his name in ecstasy. Hot clear fluids spill from your cunt, the lewd noise of its wetness filling the air as he continued to thrust through your orgasm. It was overpowering, his heavy chuckle sounding in awe before he groans with content.

"Good girl, such a a good girl...."

You could barely respond as he swiftly moves to release his cock from its confinements, his hips wiggling to spread your thighs in a welcoming stance. It was a desire you didn't know you had in you, the type that would drive you mad if you weren't sated right here and now. Your reach to hold onto his hanging tie as he leans forward, the head of his length pushing into your cavern with one fluid thrust.

He gives you no time to accommodate his size but you do not care. Not when there was this much tension involved. You moan out his name while tightening your hold on his tie, using it as a rein to control the beast that drives into you. He's panting wildly, holding onto one of your thighs while the other arm holds himself upward.

You can't believe it is you that is making him sound like a wanton whore, that it was you that is making him hold back a whine as he thrusts wildly in a forgotten rhythm.

Your legs move to wrap around his hips to drive himself deeper, deeper, until you swear he is hitting your insides. It's keeping you feral, your eyes locking on his blown ones as his brows furrow with upcoming release.

" -.... Fuck.. I -...."

That was all he could mutter before a hand moves to wrap around your throat tightly but not enough to choke, a finger moving inside your mouth as you suckle on its digit. It makes him explode, a desperate moan releasing from his flush lips as he spills deeply inside you. Hot spurts of his cum coats your walls, your body tightening around him like a vice to suck up each and every drop.

He is shaking from the aftermath, heavy pants sounding from him as he gazes downward in awe from the pleasure. You both giggle in exhaustion as he leans forward to kiss you gently, your hands cupping his cheeks with a smile.

Yeah, you could stay after hours as much as you need to.

Tags! @thefairywithboots @oswildin @loki-cees-all @eleniblue @lokisgoodgirl @mischiefmaker615 @cueloki and anyone else that's ok being tagged, let me know!

[jinmindeulle]

vulnerable | k. mingyu, j. wonwoo (3)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 kim mingyu x fem!reader x jeon wonwoo

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff | friends-with-benefits!mingyu, neighbor-and-highschool-crush!wonwoo | you decided! wonwoo is your choice.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions about sex i guess?

mingyu is taking his time. wonwoo stays by your side.

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

Your heart hurt. It really did.

But Wonwoo was right in front of you, and Mingyu had taken his damn time. You knew from a friend in common that his routine hadn’t changed much. He still met with his friends and attended his after-office get-togethers. He was doing fine.

But you weren’t. You opened his inactive chat at least six times a day. Sometimes you typed and erased, sometimes you just stared at it, hoping Mingyu started typing by the force of manifestation. It never happened.

“I can’t help but ask you, is everything alright?”

Ever since you got closer to Wonwoo, you would regularly visit each other. All it took was a minute-long walk from one corner of the first floor to the other. Now that he had a tiny and fluffy companion, you had more excuses to stop by when you got home from work.

“It’s complicated” you sighed, gently scratching the kitty’s neck.

“I like complicated” he chuckled, bringing his can of beer to his lips as he looked at you with attentive eyes.

“Well… I’ve got this friend who has been my best friend ever since college. We met when he banged on my dorm’s room at two in the morning because he was drunk and thought that was his dorm.” you giggled, reminiscing about that crazy first week as a college student. “He was everywhere I looked, and he seemed to like talking to me. We became close and he has been my rock for more than eight years. But last year, things changed a bit between us”

“You fell in love, right?” Wonwoo’s eyebrows rose.

“Kinda?” you shrugged, giving an awkward laugh “We started as friends with benefits, with some rules to follow. We could kiss and have sex. We could make it stop when one of us asked to. We banned jealousy and we were not exclusive…except-”

“You were being exclusive” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t see the problem, though. If you two were fine by how things were going…”

“He was not” you sighed, taking a sip of your can so you could continue the story with a little bit more courage “He asked me to start seeing other people so we could follow that stupid rule, and he explicitly said ‘I don’t want us to be a couple’”

Wonwoo seemed to be contemplating where the narrative was heading before he asked “But he still wanted to fuck you?”

“We were not having sex every time we met up — that was what bothered him the most, I guess. Not because of the act in itself, but because he felt we were practically a couple when he came over, cooked with me, and cuddled to sleep instead of being all over each other”

“So…”

“We fought and he finally came over to apologize. But now we’re in this weird position where he doesn’t know what he wants and I’m waiting for him as if I were Rapunzel trapped in a tower. He knows I don’t see him as a friend anymore. But I don’t want to lose him if he chooses to make this end” you looked down to your lap, eyes welling up. Wonwoo shifted from his side of the couch and scooted closer, hugging you with his right arm so you could place your head on the crook of his neck.    

“You won’t lose him. It might be weird at the beginning, yes. But he needs you as much as you need him. Do you think he is willing to cut ties with you if he doesn’t choose commitment?”

“I guess he’s not” you mumbled, taking in Wonwoo’s scent to calm down your hiccup. 

“If he is the one, and you are his one, there’s nothing to worry about,” his low and calm voice had a magical effect on you, and as you felt the vibrations of his voice through his neck, you began to soothe your worries “ If you still think he’s the one when he’s still not ready to treat you as his girlfriend, maybe time will eventually bring you two together. And if time doesn’t, then… I’m still gonna be here” 

“You are an angel” you mumbled, feeling your eyes heavy. 

“Only for you”

. . . . . . . . . .

Three weeks. Exactly twenty-one days had passed, and Mingyu was still nowhere to be seen, or heard of.

Day twenty-two was your limit. You had to make a decision, even if he hadn’t made up his mind yet. It was killing you to know that he could come and destroy everything you had built over eight years, and you would remain with a broken heart until he decided to either mend it or turn it into ashes. 

You had to prioritize yourself.

We need to talk.

It physically hurt to finally type and send the text instead of erasing it. Your heart started pounding and you thought that it was about to explode, expecting an answer that took three and a half hours to come. And after you read it, you regretted even having the thought of sending that text.

I’ve got plans.

Hot tears traveled down your cheeks, frozen in place, holding your phone close to your heart. Who was that person? Mingyu would never, could never.

And yet he could. He sent those eight years of precious, heartwarming moments to the trash. All those nights you had stayed awake to help him on his projects, while you could have been working on yours. All those events you had been his plus one to help ease his nervousness when you could have stayed at home to study for your postgraduate course. All those kisses that had felt so real, so caringly true. 

It was over.

Dinner is ready!

I don’t know if you are coming but if you are, you better hurry.

[Picture]

Homemade, just how you like it 😌

At first, you thought that there was no way you could go in that state. You were just going to ruin that Friday night for Wonwoo. 

But after you rubbed your last set of tears away, you took a look at yourself in the mirror and decided that it was not too bad. Wonwoo had seen you worse back then. Also, you needed him. More than anyone else.

Even more than Mingyu.

So you answered.

On my way!

And left your apartment.

“Hi! Oh… What did he do?” the concern in his eyes made yours flood up with tears once more.

“I think he dumped me? I don’t even know if that’s accurate to what happened”

“Come in” Wonwoo mumbled, taking your frame under his long arm and embracing you as soon as he closed the door behind him. “Let it out”

“But the pizza is turning cold” you cried, face buried in his collarbone as he held you close, ruining his shirt with tears. 

“We’ll reheat it later,” when he kissed your temple, you felt how your heartbeat got faster, and how relaxed your breathing turned out. His scent always had the effect of a tranquilizer on you, and you were beginning to feel it little by little, from head to toe “Wanna talk about it?”

“I just need to forget him” 

And you were determined to do it. 

Plus, Wonwoo was making it so easy for you.

When you felt that you had no more tears to shed, he led you to his sofa, and Bomi, his cute kitten, quickly rested himself comfortably on your lap. 

“He knows you’re sad” Wonwoo smiled as he came back from the kitchen, a wooden tray with the two yummy-looking pizzas on top.

“He’s too cute” You kept yourself busy petting Bomi as you waited for Wonwoo to bring the wine he had promised.

“Is it too out of place on my part to say ‘Cheers’?” the man asked, giving you your glass and extending his your way.

“You’re the only one I would allow to do that” you softly giggled, clinking his glass with yours “Cheers.”

“Cheers” he chuckled, looking at you in the eye. 

. . . . . . . . . .

Six days after your now ex-best friend/ex-friend-with-benefits cut you off, he decided it was the right time to reappear in your life. And you thanked whoever or whatever was above that Wonwoo was holding your hand from the other side of the table when the phone lit up with Mingyu’s notification.

“He’s back” you mumbled absentmindedly, taking the device with your other hand and reading the text aloud “Sorry for keeping you waiting so long. I’m ready to talk now”  

Wonwoo’s face fell.

“What…what will you say?”

You sighed, and the first thing your eyes landed on was your and Wonwoo’s intertwined fingers. He was caressing and holding them with so much care that your heart skipped a beat. You raised your gaze to his eyes and laid your heart before you, just for him. For the one who deserved it.

“I told him to take his time, and I must own up to that. However, I never said anything about waiting for him to decide. He will understand that my thoughts and my heart belong to someone else now. Even if it’s soon, even if it has just started. I mean it when I say that I want you. Hell, I have wanted you ever since I was twelve”

“Wh-what?” he squished your hand, and you had to giggle at his response.

“I might have taken a break from being in love with you a couple of years ago. But ever since you came back to my life, it has felt the same, Woo. You might have changed a little, yes, but your kindness, your responsibility, your sensibility, and sensitivity are still the same — I fell in love with you because of those traits of yours. Not to mention your handsomeness.” 

It felt right. Wonwoo felt right.

“Why didn’t you say something back then?” he looked cute in that state. He looked as confused as happy. 

“You were not as straightforward as you are now” you shook your head “Woo, you ran away from all those girls. How would I assume I had a chance?”

“You were the only one I would have stayed for” he mumbled, and your heart melted. “I’m sorry I never showed it to you. I was the one who assumed it was too obvious on my part”

When your phone lit up again, you decided it was time to let Mingyu know that you were not waiting for him. That you had a right to move on.

“Let me take care of this,” you said, moving to the corner of the table “Proceed with your drink, please” you smiled, softening at his expression. If he was a cartoon, a question mark would have appeared over his head.

You angled your phone and after a couple of shots, you were content with the outcome.

[Picture]

I’m the one who’s busy now. And for real. 

When you left the café hand in hand, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if Mingyu had reached out sometime earlier. 

Maybe, just maybe…

But he hadn’t, and you were truly happy with where your life had headed. Right across your door, Wonwoo appeared when you least expected him to. He was there to hold you, to caress you, to care for you — for your meals, for your sleep schedule, for your working hours. He was there when no one else had been. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” the reason for your many sleepless nights and enamored sighs during your teenage years asked, squishing your hand as he led you into your building’s elevator.

“You”

As the doors closed, Wonwoo wasted no time and pressed his lips to yours, gently cupping your face with his large but soft hands. You steadied yourself by gripping the sides of his black t-shirt, angling your head to let him have you. All of you.

His kiss felt even better than you had imagined all those years ago. He showed hunger and patience at the same time, he wanted to feel what he had missed for so long and also save it for later. 

“You’re amazing” he mumbled over your lips, a gentle smile on his face.

“You are”

“I’m too happy to argue right now.” he pecked your lips again, just in time to get out of the elevator. “But I might do it later”

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

epilogue: wonwoo as your boyfriend

• • ┈┈┈┈ ๑ ⋅ ⋯ ୨ ୧ ⋯ ⋅ ๑ ┈┈┈┈ • •

part 1 | you decide... mingyu (2) or wonwoo (3)

please like and reblog!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're the Only Girl For Me - Chapter 33

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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September 4th 2021 

Airielle jumped as Josh got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. She could feel Mercedes, Bianca, and Trin looking at her but kept her eyes lowered as she climbed out of the car. 

She felt like shit for accusing him of lying but there was no way Yara and Raymond would go through all that work to change the date of a video. Given, Airielle and Josh weren’t together but he also said that the only time he fucked her was at his apartment and that video definitely wasn’t at his apartment. 

When she entered the hotel lobby Josh was waiting for her by the elevator with a pair of her slippers. She didn’t even notice them when he got out of the car earlier.  “Thank you.” She whispered as he bent down to help her take off her boots. 

“C’mon Rih, I'm tired,” Josh mumbled as he stood up and held his hand out for her. She shook her head and stepped back. 

“I think I’m going to stay with Trin and Jon tonight.” She said then looked over at Trinity who looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Can I stay with y’all tonight?” 

“Oh, uh…” Trinity trailed off between Josh and Airelle. Josh's jaw was clenched tight as he damn near stared a hole in the side of Airielle’s face. 

“Airielle -” 

“Josh I can’t okay? You’re angry and…” She paused and took a deep breath as an image of Christopher hitting her every single time he was angry at her came flashing in her mind. “I just can’t” 

Josh’s features softened as he noticed how her hands were shaking. He took a step closer to Airielle. “Rih, you know I’d never put my hands on you. No matter how angry I am.”  His voice was low and sincere, his eyes locking with hers as he spoke as if to remind her that she was safe with him. Airielle closed her eyes and nodded her head. She knew Josh would never lay a hand on her in that way but… she was still shaken. Christopher was still lurking around and her mother had shown up out of the blue. Airielle didn’t even know if she was in the right state of mind to make any decisions tonight.

“Okay.” Josh sighed, “You want me to bring your bag over there?” 

Airielle nodded and walked up to him. He immediately took her into his arms. “I’m sorry.” She whispered into his chest. He said nothing, just held onto her tighter. 

“I’ll bring your stuff over.”  He gave her one last longing look before pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. As the elevator doors closed, he refused to make eye contact with her. Airielle sighed and looked over at Trinity who gave her a small smile. 

“It's gonna be okay friend.” 

“You think I’m being stupid don’t you?” Airielle and Trinity sat on the balcony of Trinity and Jon’s hotel room, sharing a bottle of wine. 

Trinity sighed and sat her wine glass down. “Yes and No, You went through some traumatic ass shit and you haven’t really talked about it. But, Josh isn’t like Chris and I think you know this. He would never put his hands on you.” 

Airielle remained silent as she pulled her knees up to her chest and laid her head on them. “I don’t want to lose him Trin.” 

Trinity scoffed and set her wine glass down. She turned so she was facing Airielle.  “Girl, look at me.” Airielle sighed and lifted her head to look at Trinity. “That man loves you, sis. You could spit in his face and he would forgive you five seconds later.”  

“So what should I do?” 

Trinity huffed. “Girl.. go back to your room and apologize to your man. Like you told me the video was before y’all got back together and you don’t even know if they actually fucked. He was open and honest about the Tracy situation, why do you think he would lie to you now?” 

Airielle sighed and threw back the rest of her wine. She knew Trin was right. Josh had gone above and beyond to prove the lies Tracy had spewed were false so if he did sleep with Yara more than once, why would he lie about it? 

“What if -” 

“There are no what ifs” Trinity cut her off. “You have been through a lot when it comes to men and trusting them but Josh has been nothing but open with you. And if you're going to make this work, you have to let go of the past.”

Josh awoke from his sleep at the sound of the hotel door being opened and closed. He hopped up from the bed ready to defend himself until he saw Airielle shuffle into the room. He watched as she set her duffle bag and suitcase down by the entrance.  He let out a sigh and sat back down on the bed. He looked at the alarm clock that was situated on the end table. It read 3:30 am. He had just closed his eyes about 10 minutes ago.

“Wassup Rih?” He asked, his voice thick with sleep. “I thought you were sleeping in Jon’s room tonight.” 

“I was.” She replied softly after a moment of silence. She cleared her throat and shuffled closer to the bed. “I talked with Trinity and she made me see how wrong I was - am,”  Josh said nothing and Airielle could feel his stare on her. Airielle hesitated for a moment, the weight of his silence hanging heavily in the air. She had come here to make things right, but now that she was standing in front of him, the words felt harder to say.

“Airielle” He started but she quickly shook her head and cut him off. 

“No please let me… just.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, finally bringing her eyes up from the carpet to look at him. He was still staring at her, what shocked her was how soft his eyes were, there was no indication that he was pissed with her.  He was looking at her like he always did, his eyes were full of love and understanding and it made Airielle feel worse. 

“I’ve been pushing you away since Abigail came back and… I know I hurt you and it wasn’t my intention. Earlier at the bar, I uh, when Raymond showed me that video I saw it as a way out. A way that would justify me running away and I’m sorry.” 

“I forgive you,” Josh said immediately. “We both did some shit to hurt the other person but let this be the last time Rih. I don’t know how much more I can take.”  Josh exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "I don’t want to give up on us, Rih. But I need to know that you’re in this with me, fully. No more pushing, no more walls between us. We’ve both got things to work on, but we can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep doing this.” 

“I’m here.” She said and she climbed onto the bed. “I’m in this, all the way. I don’t want to keep shutting you out. I want to be with you—fully with you. I don’t want to lose you.”  Josh opened up his arms and Airielle immediately shuffled over to him. When she finally curled into him, he let out a small, relieved breath, pulling her close and holding her against his chest.

“You not gon lose me Rih. Just let me be there for you. No more running, no more pushing me away.” 

Airielle nodded against his chest. Her tears ran down her face and onto his bare chest.  “I don’t want to lose you,” she said again, crying harder into his chest. I can't lose you.” 

It was like a light went off in Josh’s head. Airielle needed reassurance. She needed to feel secure in his love, to know, without a doubt, that no matter what, he wasn’t going anywhere. He knew he played a part in her insecurities with the whole Yara situation. 

He gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. His voice was soft, but firm, the kind of voice that carried a sense of resolve.

“You’re not gonna lose me, Rih. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’ve been through too much to just throw it all away. You’ve got me, and I’ve got you. Always. You’re my person, and I’m not giving up on us. Not now, not ever. I love you” 

“I love you too.” She whispered back and Josh smiled. He maneuvered them so they were lying down and she was still cuddled into his arms. 

“Next time you want some space from me, don’t go to Jon’s he already texted my phone talking bout he gon have two baddies in his bed tonight.” Airielle couldn't help but burst into laughter at his words, her head still resting on his chest. She lifted her gaze to meet his, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Was so close to going over there and dragging you back here.” 

She rolled her eyes with a giggle and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you.” She said as she pulled away. “For giving me another chance.” 

Josh’s smile softened, his eyes looking at her with a mix of warmth and sincerity. He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as he leaned in to kiss her again, this time deeper and more lingering.

“You don’t gotta thank me” he murmured against her lips, his voice steady and sure. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Authors Note: Omg.. look at them 🥹. So proud of Airiellle.

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @jeyusos-girl @empressdede

@harmshake @paigereeder @li-da-savage @nbanenefrmdao @theninthwonder

@raya-hunter01 @abadbitchblogs @jaethaone @mzv11 @shantinextdoor

@sadnni @Xmonetsworld @bebesobrielo @kill-the-artiste @Yana3sworld

@bookuce @sageispunk @amandairene88 @rianasixx @vebner37

@mindairy @saintaquarius @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @sayyestoheav3nn

@xbriexx @princess-saki1 @kat3457 @queeny23 @rebelrel0987

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @fearlesschimera @mselenalovebug

[durrtydawg]

Stalemates

(Sam Drake x F!Reader smut)

'Talking it out' often makes for appropriate conflict resolution. But where's the fun in that?

Masterlist

In which they switch it up like nintendo-oh 🎶 . 12k words of switchy, yucky, hate sex. 3rd person, no y/n, grammatical errors (ooo scary) likely

CW for mildly dubious consent and two bitches being mean to each other. For detailed tags take a peek at ao3! Could only bring myself to write this while ovulating which is why it took so long </3. Enjoy!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Sam doesn’t know what smells worse. The stale carpet, the acrid, yellowing wallpaper, or her fucking attitude.

His hand lingers on the doorknob for a beat, eyes scanning the motel room with feigned indifference. He bites the bullet and steps in, dropping his duffel onto the bed, preparing himself for an ear-full.

“Wait,” she says sharply, her voice cutting through the repetitive clicking of the faulty ceiling fan. He cracks his neck in preparation for another bitch fit.

She’s still standing by the door, her breath still heavy from the adrenaline of the last few hours. She's had enough. She wants a plan, a strategy. But every damn thing is on the fly when he’s around. Mortality included.

“What the hell is this?”

“What?” he replies, all casual like they hadn’t just escaped certain death and walked straight into… this.

“What do you mean, what? This place is a dump.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Yeah. I see that.”

She rounds on him. “You see that? That’s all you’ve got to say? There's one damn bed-”

“What do you want me to do, princess? Build a second one?” He practically spits the nickname.

She slams the door shut, throwing her bag to the floor. "Far be it from me to want a bit of space after you tried to kill me off."

He groans. "Don't start-"

"Don't start?" Her incredulous laugh escapes before she can stop it. "I almost got impaled back there because you couldn’t be bothered to share your genius plan - oh hold on. No - that’s right. There wasn’t one.”

“There was a plan,” he counters, turning from her to pat his pockets for his box of cigarettes he’d somehow managed to salvage from a trap he’d accidentally triggered hours earlier. “You just didn't follow it.”

All right, so she'd fallen with the box, stuck clinging to the edge of a spike-filled pit. So what? He pulled her out. She's fine.

“Because you didn’t tell me!”

“It was implied,” he says, the smirk tugging at his lips enough to make her see red.

"What else was implied was the fact that you don't ever think about anyone but yourself."

“Really? You think I dragged your ass out of that hole because I wanted a goddamn medal?”

"Oh, fuck off, Sam." She exhales sharply, hands braced on her knees as she plops down onto the end of the bed.

Get a grip.

Her chest still heaves from the rush of it all - dodging death, being forcibly confined to his bullshit, this shitty room. Feels like a boot on her chest.

She forces herself to breathe and enjoy the momentary silence.

Clink.

Her head snaps up. Of course. HA! Of course.

Tck-tck.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she snaps, seething again. “You’re actually lighting up in here? Can't even be bothered to open a damn window?”

He doesn’t even look at her, his lighter sparking to life. “Relax,” he mutters, cigarette between his lips. “Look how yellow the walls are. You’ll survive.”

Her fists curl at her sides as the sharp tang of smoke curls into the air. "Unbelievable." She marches over to the window, wrestling with the latch. "You couldn’t wait two minutes?”

He exhales deliberately, the smoke drifting lazily between them. “Two minutes, ten minutes - doesn’t really make a difference. You’re gonna bitch about it either way.”

Her jaw clenches, “God, you’re… infuriating.”

“Gotta unwind somehow.” His drawl is lazy, but his eyes are sharp - he’s waiting for her to crack. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Her stomach twists. It’s the way he looks at her, like he’s waiting for her to lose it. She huffs, giving up on the stiff window latch, turning back to him with a scowl.

She doesn’t like it. She hates it.

He takes another drag, exhaling slowly, watching her through the clag of smoke. “Tell you what,” he drawls, shifting his weight, standing upright as opposed to leaning against the chest of drawers with a few missing handles, “Why don’t you take a swing at me, huh? Let it all out.”

He beckons her with two fingers, the cigarette still pinched between them, his grin deepening as he watches her stiffen. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’re dyin’ to give me a good fuckin’ smack. I can see it.”

Her nails dig into her palms, biting into her skin as her pulse pounds in her ears. She pictures her fist connecting with his jaw, that stupid smirk wiped clean off his face as she pins him down. It would feel so good.

He takes another step forward. “All that energy,” he murmurs, his voice lower now, almost provocative. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

Fine. Definitely provocative.

She swallows hard, her voice tight. “You’re disgusting.”

Sam watches her, his lips curling as she darts a glance between him and the cigarette. He leans back against the wall, a picture of nonchalance, silently revelling in the way her composure seems to crack, his arrogance only bolstered by her obvious distaste.

Without a second thought, she yanks it out of his mouth, shoving it between her own lips in one fluid motion.

“Really?” he growls, reaching for it, but she steps back, holding it just out of reach with a glare.

“What’s the problem, huh?” she taunts, the cigarette dangling between her fingers. “Can’t go five minutes without something in your mouth? Guess that explains why you’re so full of shit.”

“Ha. Classy.” He scoffs.

 “You are the most crass, irresponsible - no, insufferable - asshole I’ve ever met.” She can feel his eyes on her, and she takes her sweet time before looking back up at him, taking a drag, before huffing it out purposely up towards his face.

He waves a hand in front of him, coughing once. “Real fuckin' cute. Give it back.”

“Give it back,” she mocks, her voice purposely lowered in a crude impersonation of him. “No, no, hold on a sec. I wanna be like you for a moment.” she says, her voice tight with anger, the smoke rolling from her mouth with every word. She raises her chin up to face him. "Can’t be that hard, right? Just gotta act like an arrogant prick."

She ignores the burning ash against her fingers as she scrapes her hair back from her forehead - a gesture that makes him roll his eyes. She leans against the wall in a stance that's just as affected and smug as he is.

“Hmm. Yeah, this - this is nice.”

He chuckles thinly, his arms folding tight across his chest. “Well, I’m glad someone’s entertained.”

“Entertained?” She leans into the word, dragging it out as she takes a drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke in his direction with a casual flick of her wrist. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m more than entertained.” She snaps her fingers, flicking ash. “I’m inspired! I mean, you’ve got a hell of a system going. The quips. The brawn. The charisma - God, it’s practically oozing out of your every pore, right?”

His grin freezes in place, tight at the edges, but she’s not done. Not even close.

“Hi, I'm Sam. I like to fuck my way out of every tight spot I get myself into, then proceed to leave everyone else behind to clean up the mess.” She steps forward, her eyes gleaming as she watches his jaw tick. “It’s genius, really. Self-destructive, sure, but hey, you’re nothing if not consistent.”

His smirk twitches, then falters. “You done?”

She ignores the warning in his voice, taking another slow step toward him. “Have you ever thought about teaching a class? Writing one of those 'for dummies' books? ‘How to Charm Your Way Through Life Without a Shred of Accountability.’ Could be a bestseller. You’d make a killing.”

“Alright,” he mutters, voice clipped. “That’s enough.”

“Enough?” Her head tilts, her eyes wide. “Come on, Sam, don’t tell me you can’t handle a little constructive criticism.”

He stays quiet, his grin gone now, his jaw tightening as his eyes follow her every move. She doesn’t stop. She loves this. Loves seeing him like this.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say a word. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and though his expression remains composed, she can feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. It thrills her. She doesn't want to examine it too closely - the rush - but she can't deny the flicker of satisfaction in knowing she’s gotten under his skin. Better than that smug, righteous babe-magnet haughty bullshit he insists on projecting ninety-nine percent of the time.

“You’re just trying to distract yourself, aren’t you? The scams, the smirks, the sex - oof, let's not forget that. It’s all noise. A shitty cover-up for what you actually are.”

The tension in his jaw, the way his eyes darken, the little scrunch at the bridge of his nose; it's real - a side of him he tries too hard to hide behind that dumb, cool exterior. Boy, does it add fuel to the fire. A rogue spark bouncing onto kindling. She knows she’s pushing him. But hey, they're stuck together for the foreseeable, so what's really the worst he could do?

“And what’s that?” he finally bites out, his voice sharp and low, but she doesn’t flinch.

Her lips curve into a cruel smile, and she gestures to him with the cigarette, her tone cutting. “A sycophantic hedonist with a nicotine addiction, trying - and failing - to claw your way out of your brother’s shadow.”

Then, he laughs, teeth bared in a parody of a grin. No trace of humour. It’s dangerous now. She licks her lips.

“You wanna say that again?”

“Sure.” She takes another step forward, close enough now to feel the heat rolling off him. “I think you’re lame. A shadow-dwelling grifter who’s just pissed he’ll never. Be. Good enough.”

Before she can blink, his hand shoots out, rough fingers clamping around her chin. The suddenness of it sends a shock-wave through her, and she stumbles a little. “And I think that you," He yanks her face up toward his, his grip just shy of bruising, "Are a frigid little control freak who wouldn’t know fun if it bit her in the ass.” he shoots back. The cigarette flies onto the floor, smoke trails smouldering between them, until his boot grinds it into the carpet without even looking.

Her breath stutters, but it’s not fear that does it. She smirks, even as her pulse races. “Hit a nerve, did I?”

Then he shoves her, hard, and her back hits the wall with a thud, his thumb digging in just beneath her cheekbone.

“Listen, you sanctimonious bitch,” His eyes are sharp, narrowed, the fury in them burning hot. “I’d have loved nothin’ more than to have left you to rot in that pit - hell, I’d certainly have much less of a goddamn headache right now if you’d’ve fallen ass-first onto one of those spikes.” Her head jolts in his grip as he punctuates each word, “But luckily for you, I’ve got a job to do. So here you are.”

She doesn’t shrink. Doesn’t falter. Instead, she pushes, craving the intensity. Ha. Frigid. “And wouldn’t that have been dull.”

Stupid fucking men and their need to assert physical dominance. It’s boring.

Her lips curve, deliberately, the ghost of a smile curling at the edges. Not sweet. Not kind - never kind with him. Instead, mocking. Dangerous. 

Her chin tips up, her lips parting ever so slightly as she pushes against his grip, her breath warm and steady as it grazes his mouth. Close, but not close enough. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.

Go on, her silence says. Do something.

Sam’s jaw is ticking. He wants her to flinch, to crack, to give him something - anything - but all she gives him is a tilt of her head, her neck arching just a fraction to shift the angle.

“Do you get off on this?” She speaks quietly, her chin moving against the palm of his hand. The question catches him off guard, making his frown deepen. Because a part of him does. “Using your height and your muscles and cute little frown to intimidate girls young enough to be your daughter?”

He’s holding on by a thread. She knows it. His jaw clenches, and his pulse hammers as she lets her fingertips drift across his stomach. Teasing, toying, until she hooks them around the buckle of his belt, tugging him closer.

Disgust flashes in his eyes. But beneath it, intrigue? Desire? Some gross spark that twists him up inside. He’s disgusted with himself for feeling it, for letting her get to him like this. But the hard truth, as betrayed by the semi he can’t fully hide, is that part of him is undeniably drawn in.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Oh… I think you do.”

His breath falters - barely perceptible, but she catches it. Of course she does. Her eyes catch the flicker of hesitation in his, narrowing as his anger wavers. Shifts. Into something else entirely. It takes a monumental amount of effort to stop herself from laughing in his face.

Her lashes lower, eyes dropping just below his belt for a heartbeat before dragging back up. Slow. Calculated. Intimate, to the point where she’s almost taking herself seriously. She’s not backing down - no, she’s playing with him now. She tugs at the leather, a deft pull that has the belt sliding free of its buckle, then presses her palm against him - light, barely there - but enough for him to feel it.

She feels his fingers loosen their grip on her jaw, just slightly. It’s so subtle, he thinks he’s gotten away with it... and he would’ve, if he hadn’t audibly swallowed and given himself away mere seconds after. Her mouth twitches. The strings are falling into her hands.

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice a purr now, filled with mock encouragement. “You've got it all under control, haven't you?” She lets her hand move over him again, slower this time, the pressure just enough to make him grind involuntarily against her touch. His breath comes faster, harder, and she feels his body tense against hers.

His grip on her face tightens as he stares at her with scorn - it's starting to hurt, now - she's almost certain his thumb's going to leave a bruise just beneath her cheekbone - but she doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t give him what he wants. She holds him there, her fingers still teasing him through denim.

Her lips are hovering just shy of his, still. The space left between them is so veil-thin it’s barely there. She won’t close it, though. She wants to let him feel her there - let him ache for it. Allow the tension to fester, coiling tighter and tighter with every second that ticks by. His pulse kicks - hard.

Sam doesn’t realise he’s leaning in until it’s too late. His rage, his whole resolve, all of it crumbling under the weight of her strategic silence. His fingers tighten their grip again as he feels his frown falter, thinking it’ll hold up the bravado.

She pops the button through its hole, pushing the zip down with her thumb, "Do you want me to touch you, Sam?" she whispers, stroking along the length of him, light and teasing, drawing a sharp intake of breath from his throat. His body reacts before his mind can catch up, his hips pressing into her touch, desperate for more. "To treat you like the big, strong man that you are?"

Her deepening smirk tells him he’s fucked it all up. It’s slow and sly and her eyes are sparkling with a satisfaction that’s almost unbearable.

He can’t think straight.

“Fuck you,” he growls through gritted teeth, but there’s no strength behind it. It���s not a threat - it’s a plea. Even he knows it's lazy.

She laughs, soft and mocking, her hand still stroking him through his boxers, the feeling of him hardening against her hand is captivating.

She leans in, too, grinning against his faltering grip, letting her lips graze against his in a way that goads him so hard that the power trip alone sends heat coursing through her. He remains still, aside from the loosening grip of his hand once more. He’s trapped.

Her eyelashes flutter as she pulls back mere millimetres, eyes intentionally dropping to his lips again before flicking back up, head tilting. Making sure he sees her display of self-indulgent curiosity. He doesn’t know she’s just tossing the bait into the water.

His fingers twitch at her cheeks, grip loosening just as his body instinctively leans closer, reeled in by her. His hand starts to slide, his palm brushing the curve of her hip as if testing the boundary of how far he can take this.

Her lips part, and for a split second, he thinks she might actually let him. That she’s given in, that this isn’t just some cruel game she’s playing at his expense.

She thinks he's a moron.

So she finally yanks on the rod out of the water.

She stills her hand, and whispers against him: “I’ll take the floor.”

Before he can react, her palm presses against his chest in one swift, decisive shove, forcing him back. The movement isn’t violent - she doesn’t need it to be.

By the time he’s recovered his footing, she’s already long gone. The smirk she tosses over her shoulder is pure satisfaction, her steps casual and unhurried, as though she hasn’t just torn him apart and left the pieces scattered across the shitty old carpet.

It takes him a moment to realise she’s actually walking away. His chest rises and falls heavily, the faint scent of her still clinging to the air around him, all warm skin and sweat and something faintly sweet. Infuriating.

The humiliation crashes over him in waves, his pulse pounding. His body burns with frustration, with the bitter taste of defeat. He feels like a fool - a complete fucking idiot.

He had her caged, in his grip, and still, she slipped through his fingers, leaving him humiliated, rock-fucking-hard, and wholly unsatisfied.

He watches her approach the window, his hands curling into fists as the truth sinks in: she never lost control. Not for a second.

He's not about to let that stand.

His tongue drags over his teeth as he exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders back while she struggles against the window lock.

Poor thing. She usually knows how to press the right buttons.

The sound of her irritated huffs provokes him. She’s giving him space - space to stew, to think. Maybe she knows it. Maybe she planned it. The thought only pisses him off more.

“You’re good at this.” He murmurs, letting his voice dip low, zipping his jeans back up, “The games. Smirks. Little looks. Actin' like a fuckin' skank ‘cause you think it makes you untouchable.”

Her fingers still, gripping the latch tightly. She doesn’t turn. She hums contemplatively.

“Untouchable? No.” Her voice is steady. “Smarter than you, though? Sure.”

He can’t help but laugh. “You think you’re smarter than me?”

“No, Sam, I know I’m smarter than you.” She doesn’t bother glancing his way, but her smile - the kind that cuts and soothes all at once - tells him she’s enjoying this. “You huff and puff around, throwing tantrums, like you’re God’s gift to brawn,”

His self-control is hanging by a thread. He knows he should let her have the last word and leave it at that. Walk away. Take a fucking shower and sleep it all off, but he can’t. 

“Brute force doesn’t equate to intelligence. Pushing me against a wall, blah blah, fucking blah. What next? Gonna toss me out the window because I bruised your ego?”

It's a nice thought. He'll give her that.

His presence is a shadow swallowing hers, a heat at her back that she feels before she even registers the sound of his boots crossing the room. She stiffens, her knuckles whitening on the latch as his arm brushes hers.

Before she can snap, his hand replaces hers on the latch, effortlessly forcing it open with one sharp motion. The cool air floods in, trading places with the stale smell of smoke, but she barely notices it. She’s too focused on him - on his arm brushing against hers, the way he leans in slightly closer than he needs to.

His hand is on her hip.

No more beating around the bush - He rams her forwards with a thunk, her palms bracing against the windowsill as his chest pins her in place.

She sighs, performative insouciance, despite her racing heartbeat. “What are you doing?” she manages, her voice sharp despite the subtle wavering to it. He catches it and he bites back his grin.

“Opening the window. Putting my brute force to good use. Can’t have you straining yourself, can I?”

Her teeth grit together. She doesn’t push him away, though.

The hand at her hip digs in, while the other drifts upward, curling around her throat. Firm. Controlling. She stiffens, chastened anger flickering hot and wild in her chest, but her body doesn’t move. It can’t move.

What the fuck is he doing?

“Tell me to get off’a you.”

His chin rests against the top of her head, a display of dominance so casual it makes her blood boil.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Samuel?”

His lips quirk in a dangerous smirk, his confidence snapping into place now that he has her at his mercy. “Making sure you get the last word, sweetheart. Isn’t that what you always want?”

“You’re such an-” she starts, but he cuts her off with a low laugh, speaking through the top of her head so his voice reverberates through her skull.

“What? An asshole?” His voice cuts her off, gravelly and edged with something teasing. “Crass? Reckless? Got any new ones, or are we recyclin’ tonight?”

She blinks, her mind struggling to catch up.

“C’mon,” He chuckles again, “Tell me to get off.” His grip tightens, just enough to keep her in place but not enough to hurt.

Her heart is thundering now - a crack in the armour she’s so desperately trying to keep intact. What’s worse is the heat from moments ago continues coiling low in her stomach. She hates it. Hates that her body betrays her rationale, hates the smugness in his reflection. That's what she tries to tell herself, at least… though, the reality is more that she hates how much she's anticipating his next steps.

“You’re insane.” she mutters, though her voice lacks its usual bite.

“Insane,” he parrots, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, “Insufferable. The list goes on.”

Her lips part, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but it refuses to come out. She’s frozen, her pride locking her in place even as her body betrays her.

She feels his grip shift, the hand at her hip sliding lower, brushing the top of her thigh, coming round further. The deliberate motion pulls a defiant grunt from her throat, her body betraying her mind’s fury. 

“Listen,” His fingertips rub circles into her thigh.

Light, slow.

“I might be all those things,”

Inwards.

Upwards.

“But, I’m not a monster. So…” Her eyes dart downward, caught between the shame of her own hesitation and the maddening awareness of his every movement. He’s quick to correct that, fingers tightening around her throat just enough to force her head upright again. “Uh-uh,” he chides. “Eyes up, huh? Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now.”

She almost bites out another snarky comment but all semblance of wit flies out of her head as his thumb swipes between her legs along the seam of her shorts.

Shit, shit, shit.

Her thighs tighten together instinctively, mindlessly trapping his hand there, which only makes him laugh into her ear, squeezing the sides of her throat a little tighter. He's such a delinquent, relishing in her hushed breathlessness and all the soft sounds she's trying to keep behind her teeth.

“Last chance.”

She’s livid. Because she thought she fucking had him.

Say something, She thinks. No - don’t. That’s what he wants. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Ah, shit.

Her mind scrambles for control. She can’t tell Sam to stop. To do as she’s told. He’d just love that, wouldn’t he? He’d win. Never let her live it down. But she shouldn’t let him keep going, either - because, then, he's still winning, and worse, she’s letting him.

Panic swells in her lungs, her insides churning.

“All you men,” She starts, pausing to compose herself once she realises how breathless she sounds, “are exactly the same. So desperate for things you can’t have. Pathetic, really.”

Not her best attempt at tugging back the reins. But at least she didn't call him a skank.

His breath skates along her neck when he snorts at her, and she swears she’ll scream if he doesn’t stop - if he doesn’t move - if he doesn’t-

“All the same, huh?” The condescending prick speaks into her temple, hips pushing firm against her so she knows she's got no choice but to reap what she's sewn. “Wonder if that rule applies to uptight little smart-asses like you?” His hand trails back up from between her thighs to her waist, fingers pulling the material of her shorts away from her stomach, smoothing over warm skin as she tries to control her breathing. “In my experience, they're wet in an instant - fuckin' freaks behind closed doors.”

Her embarrassment is flaring white-hot now. He's giving as good as he got.

Her pulse quickens, and she forces herself to glare at him, jaw tight, nails gritting against the glass to keep her hands from trembling. She refuses to give him the satisfaction of a reaction other than that.

Which is a huge mistake.

“Jesus Chr-” He giggles, rubbing against her underwear with an abruptness that has her biting back a mewl. “You’re actually wet, aren’t you?”

“Choke, you piece of shit.”

That makes him snort.

“Choke? What, like this?”

His fingers flex harder against the sides of her throat, applying just enough pressure with each hand to make her body arch involuntarily against him. It knocks her for six, eyes widening as a palm clambers its way from the window pane up to the hand squeezed around her neck.

He hums low in his throat, a sound of mock consideration as her nails scratch at him.

“That's what you want? To see how far I’ll go? Never pegged you for a whore.”

Her teeth grit, rage bubbling as he sneers his way through his sentence. The push and pull of him pressing damp fabric against her isn't helping matters.

Everything’s too much.

The weight of him pressing her down. His hand at her throat. The fucking self-satisfaction on his face as he pinches her clit through her underwear and makes her buck into him.

She wants to snap. To move. To do something. But her thoughts are slipping and it’s all more intoxicating than it has any right to be.

He thinks he’s in control. He’s so damn sure of it, so drunk on his own smug confidence. She can feel it radiating off him.

Her lashes lower. She lets her lips part slightly, and her body slacken against the window. A deliberate show of defeat. A histrionic surrender. His grip eases just a fraction, and she feels the subtle shift of power.

Her breath shudders, her chest heaving in what she knows he’ll mistake for resignation. He leans in closer, his body flush against hers, bulge pressing into her ass adding insult to injury as she tries to maintain concentration.

She's reluctant to admit to herself how galvanising it all is. The weight of him. The heat rushing through her as his fingers stroke and tease. The unbearable closeness-

Nope - no, this can't continue. Not like this, at least. Let him have what he wants. But it'll be on her terms.

He doesn’t expect her to fight back. He’s too caught up in his performance, too sure of his control. The stupid fuck.

She lets him savour it - hell, she lets herself savour it for one, two, three seconds.

Then she strikes.

Her hand shoots up, grabbing his wrist. Hard. She doesn’t pull away. She pushes, twisting his grip just enough to loosen the choke-hold on her throat. Clarity floods her brain, and her elbow drives back - sharp, fast, ruthless. It connects with his ribs, and the sound of his grunt sends a wild rush through her.

He stumbles, grip faltering.

She pivots, twisting out from beneath him in a blur of motion. Her hands shove against his chest, forceful, determined. He doesn’t stand a chance. His balance tips, his knees hitting the edge of the bed.

Sam falls flat on his back.

For a moment, he looks almost comical, sprawled across the bed in stunned silence, blinking up at her as though he can’t quite believe what just happened.

She takes a step forward, her breath still heavy, her heart pounding against her ribs as she looms over him.

And there it is again - that shift in power, slipping through his fingers and landing squarely in hers.

He knows it. She knows it. She’s straddling him before he even has time to process it fully, pinning his wrists hard against the mattress above his head, her knees clamped to the sides of his hips.

“Cute,” the sarcasm comes out low and gravelly. It's… well, it's hot. She digs her nails into his skin out of contempt for the both of them.

“Well,” she ignores him, leaning in close, her nose brushing his. “Congratulations.”

His brow quirks. “Yeah? For what?”

“For proving my point.”

She can feel the heat radiating from him, the steady rise and fall of his chest against hers. His skin is warm under her touch, and the way his muscles twitch beneath her grip sends an undeniable rush through her. Her nails dig into his wrists, and even she isn’t sure if it’s to keep him down or to rile him up any more.

There’s tension beneath his skin, the restrained strength of someone biding their time. He stays still. Watching. Waiting. Curious. His muscles flex in warning, but his eyes glint with that maddening mix of intrigue and amusement. Always testing her. Always waiting to see how far she’ll push.

"And what point is that?"

She's strong. He's watched her kill men twice her size. But still, he knows he could have her flipped onto her back in a fraction of a second if he pushed.

Her line of sight rakes down his face. He looks infuriatingly good pinned beneath her, and it grates at her self-control. His confidence seeps through the cracks of her power, unrelenting even now.

Her body remembers his touch, the bruising force of his hands, and it deceives her reasoning. She’s soaked. Her arousal seeps out to the tops of her thighs as she gives her hips an experimental roll against his.

She watches him swallow, jaw clenching slightly to fix his smirk in place. She leans in, lips grazing his ear as she grinds on him again.

“Men,” her lips drip venom, “are fucking pathetic.”

Her pulse races, hammering through her, but she pushes the doubt down, letting the smirk sharpen into cruelty. The ever-precarious balance continues to tip in her favour as she senses a touch of nervousness in his little huff of laughter.

“And you,” she whispers, forcing him to hone in on what she's saying, “might be the most pathetic of all of 'em.”

“Keep runnin’ your mouth. See where it gets you.”

Her head tilts, eyes flashing smug. “Right where I want to be, obviously.” A bold move to admit it, but they know each other too well to deny what's about to happen. Of course they do. To despise is to know.

Her hands move fast - just quickly enough for his arms to stay where she's had them. The hem of her shirt is over her head in a fluid motion. His eyes flicker, distracted for the briefest second.

“Focus, Samuel,” she snaps, her grip catching his chin, forcing his eyes back to her face. “Getting distracted already? You’ll never keep up like this.”

"What's there to keep up with, huh? A little dry humping? What are you - fifteen?"

His jaw clenches, but he forces out another frustration-tinged laugh. She can see through it, feel the way his body tenses beneath her. She shifts, pressing harder against him, and the subtle change in his expression tells her everything.

His control is slipping.

"What? Desperate to get your fingers into me? Pervert." She raises a brow, palms moving from his face and wrist to trace the tension in his forearms. His muscles twitch beneath her touch, a reminder that this could end the moment he decides to reclaim control.

She sits up, hands pressing flat against his stomach, tucking under his t-shirt and smoothing over hair and warm skin as her fingertips curl into the fabric. She speeds up when she sees him watching her hands work, until she yanks the shirt up and over his head.

She tosses it aside as his eyes narrow. For a moment, it looks like he might flip her over, shut her up, but she restrains him once more. His muscles flex beneath her grip, coiled tight and ready to spring, but she keeps him there, her nails biting into his skin as if daring him to break free. The uneven rhythm of their breaths fills the tiny space between them. The room is too small, too hot, and the tension is making it all the more damn suffocating.

Suffice to say, Sam's had enough of the purgatory.

When he finally moves, it's sudden - violent almost - a flash of motion she doesn’t anticipate. His head snaps forward, and his lips crash against hers with enough force to steal her breath. It’s hardly a kiss; more of an attack, all teeth and heat and fury. She gasps into it, shocked, her body stiffening for a split second before the wave of intensity drags her under.

Her grip on his wrists loosens as his mouth claims hers, teeth scraping against her bottom lip hard enough to sting. The faint taste of copper blooms on her tongue, but the pain only fuels her, sending a jolt of heat through her spine. Bastard.

She collapses into him, matching his ferocity, her hands abandoning his wrists to thread into his hair. She tugs hard, earning a low, guttural sound from deep in his throat that vibrates against her lips. Her nails scrape against his scalp, and she feels him shudder beneath her as one of her hands flies down, scrambling for the metal of his zip. Her nail catches - it snaps. She hisses.

His hands move fast as she's momentarily distracted, one wrapping around the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip. The total one-eighty in power is instantaneous, his body surging up against hers as he pushes back, refusing to let her hold the reins any longer.

She doesn’t fight it. She lets him guide her into the chaos of it. His lips move against hers with bruising intensity, his tongue sweeping past her teeth in a way that makes her snarl back at him. Her nails rake down his shoulders, over the expanse of his bare chest, leaving faint red lines behind - the broken, jagged edge of the one she'd caught seconds ago scratching against his nipple.

He hisses against her mouth, his grip tightening as he shifts his weight. Then, with a sharp twist and a surge of strength, he flips her onto her back.

The mattress creaks as she lands, her breath knocked from her lungs. His body presses down against hers, pinning her in place as his mouth moves to her jaw, then her throat, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there.

Her hands are on him immediately, roaming over his back, her nails digging into the hard lines of muscle as she arches up against him. Her heart pounds in her chest, adrenaline tangling into a volatile and all-consuming high.

His lips find her pulse, and she swears under her breath, the sound caught somewhere between outrage and need. She bucks her hips up against him, desperate to feel more, to take back some semblance of control.

But he doesn’t let her. He hovers above her. She whines, and it's embarrassing.

"Christ - someone's in heat, huh?" His tone is entirely too nonchalant given what they're doing.

She has half a mind to tell him to go fuck himself, but as the words form in her brain, the sensation of his hand snaking back into her shorts, scooping her underwear aside to stroke a line through her arousal only causes her to shudder. His mouth twists into an even deeper smirk at the atypical shake in her throat, taking it upon himself to make said shake worse by single-handedly shunting the waistband of her shorts down to mid-thigh.

She grunts, grabbing his face, pulling him back down to meet her, and this time, it’s her tongue that presses forward, demanding, devouring.

Teeth smack teeth and he mutters something about how wet she is - that his 'theory's got legs' - she calls him an insufferable cunt. He laughs, tracing circles everywhere but where she most needs it.

She bites his bottom lip, returning the favour from earlier, neither of them able to decipher whose blood they're tasting at this point. It's hard enough to make him pull back, his breath ragged as his eyes lock onto hers.

His patience snaps.

“Fucking animal,” he growls, his grip tightening on her waist.

Before she can call him a hypocrite, she’s flipped face-down on the bed, her arms crushed beneath her chest, as he presses himself down against her back.

Her breath leaves her in a startled rush.

Oh, shit.

Her thighs press together instinctively, and she thrashes, but it’s useless - he’s stronger, and he’s got her pinned. Hard.

She snarls into the sheets, writhing beneath him, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, his arm slides under her, curling around her stomach, palm pressing firm against the soft plane of her lower abdomen before moving lower still.

Heat licks up her spine, colliding messily with her frustration as she stiffens.He enjoys this - holding her down, feeling her succumb.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you’re getting comfortable,” he murmurs, his voice all mock sympathy, breath hot against her ear. His fingers flex, tightening his hold. “That’d be embarrassing.”

She lets out a sharp, breathy laugh, twisted against the sheets, her cheek pressed hard against the mattress. “Oh, please, do keep talking.” she spits, writhing against his grip.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he curls two fingers inside her, her body arching involuntarily into him, a curse slipping from her lips before she can stop it.

He smirks, his free hand sliding up her back, snapping apart the clasp on her bra, before snaking back up just below her throat, leaving her no time to retort. His thumb presses lightly against her windpipe, a warning, as his fingers continue their infuriatingly pleasant pace. She swallows hard as he speaks into the shell of her ear.

"Growing a bit compliant there, doll. Makin' me think this has been on your mind for a while."

With a grunt, she jostles herself up hard, trying to throw him off, trying to wrestle back the last bit of power she can. But he doesn’t budge. If anything, he only presses into her harder, his fingers hooking up in a way that makes her vision blur at the edges and a soft gasp fly out of her mouth.

Her lips part, her breath ragged, eyes locking with his over her shoulder. "You think… th-this means anything?" she spits, but her voice trembles, a touch of desperation creeping in.

He leans in closer, teeth grazing her bottom lip again, but this time softer, taunting. "Not sure." he replies, amused. "Ask me again when I've got my cock in you." He snorts at his own asinine remark. Her nostrils flare.

“Pig.” she manages to grit out, voice hoarse, teeth clenched.

His lips brush her ear, and he chuckles. "Pig? I'm not the one squealin'."

His wrist picks up the pace, causing her face to screw up, expression tightening as his thumb finally nudges her clit - her body seizes; she contracts unwillingly around his fingers, but he pries her back open with a third.

She can’t stop the moan that tears from her throat, her eyes squeezing shut as he watches her start to unravel beneath him with a sadistic grin.

Her body jerks against him as much as it can, the sharp edge of pleasure overtaking the defiance she's clung onto for the past few minutes as she tries to free her arms. She bites her lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her falling apart beneath him.

That is until she feels his hand pull away from between her thighs with a humiliating squelch, and she tries with all her might to hold back a defeated whimper at the sudden loss of sensation.

She tries to turn her head, impatience tightening her muscles, but he’s got her locked in place, every shift of her body met with an unyielding press of his weight. She can’t see him, can only feel - the absence of his fingers a cruel tease, leaving her thrumming with frustration.

Then she hears him sigh - quiet, almost contemplative. Then the slow drag of him sliding against her, gliding through the pool of slick he’s already drawn out.

Her breath stutters, thighs twitching in trepidation as the warm head of his cock nudges at her clit, pressing into her just enough to make her agonise for more. It’s humiliating, the involuntary clench of muscle, the way her arousal drips down onto the sheets. She hates it. Hates him.

Hates even more that every nerve in her body is screaming for him to keep going.

His chest is flush against her back, the unbearable heat of him sinking into her skin, searing, suffocating, branding, almost, in ways she refuses to acknowledge. She won't be forgetting this feeling for a long time. Neither will he.

His breath skates along the shell of her ear - ragged, smug. He knows. Of course, he fucking knows.

His hips shift, and then - fuck.

The first thrust knocks the air straight out of her lungs. He doesn’t ease in, doesn’t give her a second to adjust - just drives into her in one inexorable push, filling her so deep her fingers claw uselessly at the sheets.

She chokes on the moan that tries to escape, biting down hard on her lip until blood oozes back onto her tongue. She refuses to give him the satisfaction.

“Holy sh-” he grits out, adjusting his grip, one hand firm on her hip, thumb digging into the dip of her spine. “Wasn't expecting such a tight fit - Jesus.” His words cut through the haze as his other hand re-tightens around her throat.

Her eyes screw shut, her pulse hammering away. He shouldn’t feel this good. Given his big fucking mouth, she'd always assumed he was trying to compensate for something. More fool her.

Sam pulls back slowly, the stretch sending unbearable anticipatory pleasure sparking through her veins. Then he slams back in with a grunt, punching a breathless gasp out of her. He holds himself there for a second, feeling her stretch and squeeze around him.

“This really all it takes to get you to shut that whiny little mouth a'yours?"

Her hands fist into the sheets, wishing the same could be said about him, as numbness sets into her arms from being stuck under her own weight for so long, her jaw clenching as he sets a brutal rhythm, every snap of his hips forcing her forward, shunting her deeper into the uncomfortable mattress.

Her body gives in so easily, molten heat spiralling away in her stomach. Ugh, she wants to spit something back at him, but she can’t. He’s fucking the breath right out of her, and all sense of the disgusting room around her is fading, slipping into nothing.

In her attempt to keep quiet, she must make a sound - broken, subservient - damn near wrecked, because he laughs against her sweat-damp skin, pressing her down harder, cock driving deeper, with the intention to bruise - he wants her to remember this.

She groans, long and lewd, her forehead pressing into the mattress, her body traitorously growing more pliant under him. The pleasure is unbearable, tangled with resentment, with rage, with the utmost desire to wipe that smug tone out of his voice.

His hand around her throat scoops her upwards, and she whines through gritted teeth as her back is forcibly arched and her breathing is restricted. Every breath is laboured, his grip unrelenting, pushing her into a tight space between ecstasy and… well, suffocation, probably. Her vision blurs slightly at the edges, but a dull prickling sensation creeps through her arms. Pins and needles.

She feels the slow return of blood flow, the sluggish tingling that signals her strength coming back. The feeling shoots through her hands, all the way to her fingertips. Soon… very soon, she’ll have enough control to move. To shove him off, regain the upper hand, and wipe that smug expression off his face. Or… Or she can let him keep going. Let him use her, drive her deeper into this haze of loathing-stunted pleasure.

“Y’know,” oh what the hell does he want now? “I could stop-"

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snaps, her voice rough from the pressure on her throat. His laugh vibrates against her back - he calls her a whore again. A cheap insult, but infuriatingly taunting nonetheless.

“Ugh,” she rasps, struggling for air, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re-”

He cuts her off with another brutal snap of his hips, his fingers tightening around her throat, making her clench her teeth around a particularly loud moan.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

Her arms twitch beneath her, the prickling sensation turning into something more solid. She can feel the strength returning, knows she can move if she really wants to. But does she want to?

“So fucking full of yourself,” she manages to spit out between gasps, but even as the words leave her lips, she’s not sure if she believes them. She’s close - too close to care about pride right now. Her hands flex against the sheets, feeling the last vestiges of numbness fade. She knows she has a choice to make.

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle, somewhere between a smug exhale than a giggle, his thumb brushing possessively along her jaw. “God, I can think of a great retort for that one,” he murmurs, his focus now on the ripple of her flesh as he buries himself into her again and again. “Bit on the nose, though, even f’me - ha, fuck.”

And then she notices he’s losing it. Rhythm’s all over the shop. Messy. Sloppy. He’s lucky he’s got such a maddeningly nice dick because he’s barely holding it together. And the grip? He’s not pulling her up to control her anymore - he’s using her to hold himself up. Leaning on her, pressing his weight down into her and her shaky arms that are just about holding her up. Idiot.

Ooh, he's close.

He shifts slightly, just enough to adjust his grip on her, and that’s when she moves.

She bucks once more. As hard as she can. A violent twist of her hips, using the last of her strength to wrench herself sideways, unbalancing him just enough to make him swear under his breath as he slips out of her.

She almost mourns the loss… but she certainly won’t waste it.

Her knee plants against the mattress, her body surging with a reckless, desperate twist. He tries to grab her, but she’s already moving, shoving her shoulder into his side, using her full weight to knock him off balance.

And then they’re falling.

They hit the floor hard, tangled, his hand shooting out to grab at her, but she’s already moving.

A scramble, her knee grinding into his ribs. A sharp shove. Teeth gritted. His growl’s met with a vicious laugh.

He reaches for her wrist. Stupid move.

She twists his arm instead. Slams his chest to the floor. Limbs tangled, messy, but she’s got him now. Breathless, glowing with sweat. Arousal. Victory.

“Finally,” she exhales, shaking the hair from her face as she plants her weight against him. “You alright down there, champ?”

He’s seething. Muscles coiled tight - and he’s still fucking hard despite it all. God, he’s pissed, and she's more than aware that she's got limited time to wrangle full control, so she’s already moving, already fumbling for the closest thing-

His belt.

Perfect.

Leather snaps free from his jeans with a crisp thhhhk, click-clack, and Sam’s eyes go wide, rage and panic flickering. He’s still throbbing, still right there on the edge, but everything’s slipping out of his hands. Stone to sand. All power gone. Kaput.

“Nah - no, no, no, no. We’re not doin’ this," His voice breaks, a low growl, a shot of panic. "We’re not-“

His laugh comes out stilted, but it quickly morphs into a guttural growl of frustration as he tries to throw her off. She digs in - knee to his shoulder blade, boot to the small of his back. It’s enough to pin him, pain sharp, getting the job done.

His hands press to the floor in a last-ditch effort to push up. “You arrogant, goddamn- Agh-”

Her hand’s in his hair. Brutal. His face gets shoved to the floor, cheek grinding against the rough, dirty surface.

“Shhh.” The slimy little bitch’s voice is low, condescendingly soothing - all a stark comparison to the way she yanks his arm round to his back. “Quit being so dramatic. You’re gonna get us noise complaints.”

He spits curses, body jerking beneath her, but it’s all in vain. Leather loops once, twice, three times. Tight somewhere between his wrists and his elbows. Just out of reach of his fingers. The buckle clinks. Coffin nailed shut.

By the time he stops thrashing, his breathing’s ragged, face half-planted on the floor, arms bound behind his back.

He’s trapped. Tense. Furious. Fuck this.

"Up you get, big boy." With a grunt of effort, she grabs the fabric of his trousers near the waist and braces herself, leaning back slightly to use her weight. It's not graceful, but it's effective. He resists, of course – a deliberate shift of his shoulders, a tensing of his limbs that makes it harder than it needs to be. She growls in frustration, her fingers digging into his flesh as she pulls. He shifts begrudgingly, his body fighting her for every inch as she hauls him upright.

Another shift, a last-ditch effort to resist, but finally - finally - he’s on his knees, breathing hard, eyes glued to the floor as he fruitlessly tries to tug apart his arms.

She looks down at him, noting the anger in his expression, as he looks over his shoulders to assess the binding situation he's in. Then, she glances at the rigid set of his cock sticking out of his jeans. A grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as she mulls something over, sore lip pulled between her teeth.

“Show me your tongue.”

His head snaps in her direction, eyes shifting up towards her, but he remains silent.

“You heard me.”

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitches.

“You’ve lost your mind,” he mutters, his brows furrowing as he looks up at her with that familiar blend of defiance and derision, swallowing at the sight of her nudity.

She cocks her head, the very picture of patient amusement, and sighs theatrically, as if his resistance is nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “Always the hard way with you, isn’t it?”

Her fingers find his jaw, the pads of them tracing the gentle edge of bone with mock delicacy, dragging down to his stubbled chin and around to the nape of his neck. Her touch is deceptively gentle, lulling him into a brief moment of unease.

He doesn’t like the way it feels. Softness isn’t her weapon of choice; she’s more prone to acting like the human equivalent of barbed wire, so this tenderness sets his nerves on edge. His eyes flicker, skittering over her face as she kneels to his level.

“Ah, shit-”

The words break from him as her fingers knot into his hair, the tenderness of her touch abruptly morphing into a sharp yank that forces his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, the motion starkly exposed in the taut column of his neck.

Sam tries to shift under her grip, angling his head in an attempt to take control of the movement, but she tightens her hold, keeping him off balance. It’s a deliberate cruelty, that refusal to let him get comfortable.

“Open your mouth,” she demands, her voice dropping. “And show me your fucking tongue, Sam.”

His eyes squint against the sharp tug of her grip, discomfort twisting his features as his teeth clench in defiance. For a moment, it looks like he’s going to push back, to spit some insult at her that will surely make her pull harder. She almost wants him to - any excuse to relish in this a little more.

But then her thumbnail skims over the head of his cock, fingers squeezing him gently, coaxing out a pretty bead of precum as her other hand digs fiercely into his scalp, sending a sharp pulse of debauched pain and down his spine, and he realises - reluctantly - that there’s no winning this battle.

His lips part slightly, the smallest gesture of compliance, allowing a soft shudder of a gasp to slip. Enough to earn a triumphant quirk of her brow, nonetheless. Her smile sharpens, and he hates it. But still, he swallows his pride and lets his tongue dart out briefly as she pumps her hand tight around his slick shaft.

“There he is,” she murmurs, her tone laced with condescending approval. His eyes shut in an attempt to remove himself from the situation - just to focus on the feeling of being jerked off, and she watches him with parted lips of her own.

She exhales slowly, her hand loosening in his hair just enough for him to relax a fraction; her thumb hooks over his bottom lip, prying him open just a touch more, tip of it resting against his teeth.

It’s all a cruel mislead, of course - an opening for her next move. Her tongue rolls around the floor of her mouth, letting herself salivate for a moment as satisfaction rolls through her in waves.

With a sudden, fluid motion, she leans forward and spits. Directly onto his tongue. The wetness lands with an audible sound, catching him completely off guard. His body flinches instinctively, a mix of shock and disgust flashing across his face as his eyes snap open.

Sam recoils, twisting sharply in an attempt to pull away, but her hand tightens in his hair again, keeping him in place.

“Swallow it.”

He gawks at her, blinking, disbelief carving deep into his face. Then, defiant, just as she’s halfway to standing - he spits right back at her.

It lands on her thigh.

Her eyes track the slow slide of it, narrowing, sharp with intent.

"You're gonna clean that up."

It hits him sideways, enough to make him bark out a laugh and tell her she’s fucked in the head. He shifts, rocking back to stand, sick of it- but before he can get far, she’s got him. A sharp yank, fingers curling tight in his hair, dragging him between her thighs as she sits herself on the edge of the bed.

He fights. For a second. Maybe longer.

Jerks against her grip, muscles straining, breath sharp. A tangle of half-formed curses and gritted insults spill from his mouth. He bucks, twists, pushes back all sloppy and desperate. But it’s instinct more than anything.

She holds steady.

Unyielding. Even shushing him at one point, her harsh clawing at his hair turning into a patronising stroke.

Just a roll of her hips - grinding her cunt against his spit-slick lips. His breath stutters, his pulse a frantic hammer. He wants to pull back. He needs to, or he’ll never hear the end of this. But it’s already slipping - crumbling.

And she knows.

That faint, knowing smile. Just enough to gut him.

He loathes her. But right now, he's fucking powerless against the way she holds him, so he loathes himself just as much. The beauty of her contempt, the sight of her; swollen, dripping, so fucking pretty - it unravels him, inch by inch.

Lust coils around his willpower, thorned vines twisting, piercing, digging in deep, holding him there just as her thighs do. Every defiant twitch grows weaker. His fight crumbles, piece by piece, drowning under the weight of his own sickening want.

It’s like being stuck in a weird loop - one second clawing for control, the next watching it slip through his fingers. His mind spirals, blurring need with shame. Clawing for control. Losing it. Over and over again.

A shuddering sigh escapes him. Surrender. His mouth moves before his mind can catch up, tongue finding rhythm, following instinct. Thought dulls. Exhaustion takes hold.

She tastes incredible. Feels incredible. He lets her keep rubbing against his nose, his lips and tongue - hell, he even catches himself looking up at her to see how she reacts - if he’s doing a good job. And worst of all - he can feel his cock twitch as she damn-near suffocates him.

Fuck, he hates her. She sounds so goddamn pretty as she pants and mewls as she uses him like a toy, and he fucking hates her.

Her thighs tighten around his shoulders, boots digging into his back, tugging him in closer. He exhales, sharp, ragged. It fans over her clit and she laughs softly at his final act of dissent before it all caves in.

No words. No insults. Nothing.

Just her control.

And his capitulation.

She’s watching him. Half-lidded, eyes glazed, lips parted - lust-drunk.

Then, her head tilts and her eyes drop between his legs. She streams around his tongue when she sees how swollen he is, reminding herself of how he felt minutes ago.

A sharp tug - his hair burning against her grip as she pulls him away, just for a moment, just to drink in the sight of him - face slick, pupils blown, chest heaving. He barely has a second to catch his breath before she shifts, hands pressing against his shoulders, shoving him back.

He hits the ground with a ragged gasp, body thrumming, limbs heavy. The world tilts, his mind scrambling to keep up, but she’s already moving - crawling over him, her thighs bracketing his head, knees pressing firm into the floor.

His bound arms ache beneath him, shoulders burning, but it barely registers.

Sound, weight, scent - she drowns him in it, a force as consuming as the taste of her on his tongue. It suffocates, but he doesn’t fight it. No, he revels in it.

The pressure of her thighs, the slick heat against his mouth, the way she bears down with full intent - it dilutes the pain, the sheer humiliation, all eclipsed. And God, does he feast.

He laps over her, tracing the edge, tugging at her hardened clit, pulling a raspy cry from her, muffled by her thighs. He pushes his tongue just a little further, breaching and earning another gush as she braces her hands against the floor.

The sharp roll of his tongue, the relentless way he works her over - it’s almost too much. Her thighs twitch around his head, her breath coming in short, hitched gasps, and she knows she’s close. And she won’t give him that victory yet.

She moves because she wants to see his face - wants to see the mess she’s made of him. It’s not enough to feel him unravel beneath her; she needs to witness it. Needs to drink in the sight of him, sweat-damp and dazed, lips pink and slick, chest heaving from the effort of it all.

She lifts herself just enough to glance down, and - oh.

He’s a sight. Pupils dark and glassy, lips parted, jaw slack like he hasn’t quite remembered how to hold himself together. His shoulders twitch beneath the strain of being bound for so long, but he’s not focused on that.

Her legs feel unsteady as she moves, dragging herself up his body, heat still pulsing between her legs as she settles over his chest instead.

His face is slick with her, lips parted, gaze flickering between her eyes and the curve of her mouth, like he’s searching for something -defiance, permission, something he can twist back in his favour. But she doesn’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she just smirks, tapping a single finger against his jaw. “Arms hurt?”

His eyes track her, blinking through the mess, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but instead, he just watches her. There’s defiance, of course, and something almost like curiosity.

“Arms. Shoulders,” he mutters, still catching his breath, his eyes narrowing up at her, “you try being tied up by a total amateur.”

She laughs lightly, breathless herself. “Could’ve fooled me, you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

He groans, rolling his eyes, but there’s a hint of something that might be a laugh in there. “Enjoyin’ mysel- Jesus, you really are… not right in the head.”

Her smile sharpens, and she leans down, foreheads touching as she mimics his cadence. "You really are… not handling this well, are you?"

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his temple, but his voice comes out hoarse, lacking the bite. “I swear to God…”

She can’t help it - she laughs. Breathless and sooo giddy.

He shakes his head, hers still resting against his, a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to resignation. “I’m gonna break your damn neck in a min-“

She silences his cheapened fury in an instant - he doesn’t even realise she’s kissing him until she pulls away and his lazy threat slides back down his throat. She tilts her head, lips curving in that smug, infuriating way they always do.

“Get this shit off of me,” he grits, trying to hold onto something solid, cheeks warming despite his best efforts to keep it together.

Her grin spreads, slow and syrupy, and her fingers trace along his jaw, then down to the ink on his neck. Her hips press down, just enough to make him aware of the weight of her against him, soaked folds sliding over him.

“In a minute,” she chides.

He groans, a tongue pressing against his teeth, a mirthless huff of laughter escaping as he turns his head slightly. “Nope. Right now,” he mutters, but it’s more of a complaint than a command, his resolve fraying at the edges, worn thin under her touch.

She hums thoughtfully, as if actually considering it, before leaning closer, lips brushing his ear. "Do you want to finish?" Her tone is casual, light, like they’re talking about the weather.

Ugh. He rolls his neck, a sharp crack that makes her wince, but there’s no real venom left in him. Just frustration, heat, and a grudging acceptance of the situation.

“Thought so,” she murmurs with a grin, and she angles herself against his tip, he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

She watches him with curious intensity as she sinks down, a soft laugh and long exhale pulled out of her when he winces. Her cunt swallows him whole, searing her in two, boiling his blood, all the heat and tension and rage and exhaustion of this seemingly endless ordeal of being stuck together for weeks on end - making them a mess of tangled limbs and ragged breaths, sounds pulled out of both of them, her moans caught between sharp inhales, his teeth clenched around groans that scrape up his throat.

“Mm-ff-fuck-” he stutters, teeth snagging against his lower lip as he can’t prevent himself from fucking up into her any longer. “Y’know you’re so much more- ha- more tolerable like this.”

“Woah - was- was that a compliment?” She slows, letting him take the reins for a moment.

He laughs, head tilted back into the carpet. “Fat chance.”

“Oof,” She scoffs, leaning back to brace her hands on his thighs. She sits up fully, enveloping to the hilt and he watches himself repeatedly disappear into her, lips parted, trying to maintain a semblance of control over his breathing. Fuck, she loves the way his eyes roam her body - hungry, devouring, darting from the ripple of her stomach to the bounce of her tits, lingering on the flush that spreads over her skin, the sweat-slick glow catching in the dim lamplight. “And to think I was about to give you some… jargon about how nice your cock feels.”

“Wouldn’t want it.” He lies, eyes shut as he smirks to himself. “Servile praise never really did much for me.”

“Hah, well your tongue was acting pretty servile a second ago… ugh, fuck.” She groans, shunted forwards, hands smacking onto his chest to stop her falling flat onto him. He swears as she accidentally pushes more pressure on his arms. His shoulders flex, trying to balance the ache beneath him with the overwhelming pleasure of her on top, the cruel mix of restraint and indulgence that keeps him teetering on the edge.

She should leave him like this. Should keep him right where he is. But when he shifts beneath her, just enough to drag a ragged groan from deep in his chest. Something about it makes her cave. Maybe it’s pity, maybe it’s power, maybe it’s just the fact that she wants to see what he’ll do with his hands freed.

She reaches behind him, fingers working the buckle loose, and the second the belt slips away, his arms fly forward. One hooks around her waist, dragging her down so fast the breath jolts out of her, the other fists into her hair, yanking her into a kiss - clumsy, messy, all teeth and heat and unspent frustration. It’s not tender, not sweet. It’s nothing but a last-ditch attempt to swallow down the sounds she’s already torn from him, to reclaim some semblance of control before she can smirk against his mouth and make him feel even more, as she’d rightly put it, fucking pathetic.

She’s embarrassed him enough. He’s got to keep something to himself. He fucking groans anyway when he feels her clench around him.

She pulls back just enough to smirk. “What was that?”

“Will you shut your fucking mouth?” He doesn’t give her time to answer. Just flips them, shoving her onto her back, thrusting into her with new, unrestrained fervour. She gasps, half-laughing, half-moaning, her nails digging into the back of his neck.

“I get it,” she breathes between ragged inhales. “You - oh, fuck - you’ve gotta hold on to what little dignity you have left.”

His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring. “Be quiet.”

It’s a half-hearted command, lost between a sharp exhale and the way his pace turns frantic, his restraint fraying at the edges.

But she’s not faring much better. Her moans rise in pitch as his hand pushes between them, recklessly rubbing against her clit again - no doubt she’ll have something smart to say about him coming first - she writhes, arching up unto him, tits crushed against him, her thighs twitching around his waist, her nails pressing deep enough to leave crescents in his skin.

She gasps, startled as he presses against her almost painfully, and he takes the opportunity to bite down on her lower lip, just to feel her jolt against him, just to make sure he’s still got some say in how this plays out. But she’s never been one to let him win easily - her fingers twist into his hair, pulling just enough to sting, her hips rolling up against his in a way that makes him groan despite himself. He curses into her mouth, swallowing it down just in time.

Her body tightens beneath him, trembling, and god - he knows she’s close.

So is he.

“Gonna- ah, shit, c- can I cum in you?”

She swallows before she can register what he’s said, eyes squeezing shut as a stuttered cry tumbles out of her mouth - then she’s pulsing - gushing around him. Nails dug into spade, heart, club, diamond, as he fucks her through her climax. Lucky is right.

She feels nothing short of transcendental around him - the only thing putting a stop to him mindlessly telling her this is his own building panic.

“P- shit- fuckin’ answer me.”

Oh, he’s seriously asking? Her thighs tremble as she falls limp under him, nodding into his shoulder as a cock-drunk flash of a smile plasters its way onto her lips.

His hand quickly tangles into her hair as a ragged, stuttering groan resonates in his chest; the jerky, force of his hips against her thighs bruises as he succumbs to his own release. She’s all-encompassed by a sudden warmth filling her up, the intensity of her heartbeat thrumming away in her ears.

He lets out a long huff of air, hand snatched from between them as he braces himself against the ground, breathing heavily.

For a moment, neither of them move, bodies buzzing with the mental and physical aftershock, chests rising and falling out of sync.

He eventually rolls off of her, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What... the hell was that?”

She huffs, staring at the ceiling. “Your poor anger management.”

He turns his head to glare at her, but there’s no real bite to it, just exhaustion and the ghost of humiliation he’s struggling to swallow. "Yeah, well, you’re not exactly a picture of restraint either.”

She shrugs, stretching her arms above her head as she sits up, cheeks flushed, hair matted. “You called me frigid. Had to prove you wrong.” He snorts, full of resentment.

A few more beats of silence, then- “What are you smiling about?”

She bites back the smug little grin threatening to spread wider, rising to her feet. “C-c-c-can I c-c-cum in you?” She stutters, blatantly ribbing, voice pitched in a terrible imitation of his desperation.

His jaw twitches, shuts his eyes, grits his teeth. Ugh. “Your presence is excruciating.”

She clicks her tongue, gesturing to the pearly liquid slowly dribbling down her inner thigh. “Sooo excruciating.”

He groans, shoving a hand through his hair, looking very much like a man questioning his life choices. “Fuck off.”

“I am.” She steps over him, standing on shaky limbs with an obnoxious head tilt as she goes for one of the poorly folded scratchy towels on the dresser. “I’m not leaking all over the floor. Even if you’re sleeping there. I have standards.” He makes a face, brows furrowing, mouth parting slightly like he wants to argue but just… can’t.

She watches the realisation dawn on him with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Jesus Christ.” He groans, flopping back onto the carpet, throwing an arm over his eyes. She laughs as she heads for the bathroom. His hand blindly grabs for his belt, launching it in her direction with an irked grunt.

It thuds against the door as she shuts it behind her. He exhales sharply, rubbing at his jaw. Stares at the ceiling. Fuck.

[shigarakisstalker]

hiii !! I love your writing so much and I’ve been rewatching mha so I stumbled across your page and i couldn’t be happier!

and so I was wondering if I could ask for dabi x fem!reader who kinda has family issues too? like they’re both the eldest and kinda deal with lack of recognition? so that’s kinda something they bond over as they get closer?

thank youuu 💞💘

hi darling! i love this ask sm and i’ve actually been thinking of something similar loll thank you so much! this is a little ooc but eh

hollow home (dabi x fem!reader)

the rooftop was quiet. nothing could be heard for miles except for the echo of your muffled hiccups.

it was one of those nights. one of those nights where think back on all the bullshit and it haunts your mind once again. never being enough, working so hard to fit the role given to you, only to be met with nothing but disappointment. nothing was ever enough. being a villain didn’t make it any better.

but it was an escape.

while your mind was at war, you didn’t register the building door opening to the roof top. a black haired male took notice of your form, especially shocked to see that you were crying.

you weren’t the type to cry so easily. so when he saw you nearly hyperventilating he knew it was bad.

so in his own, fucked up way, he tried to help.

“aye, got a smoke?” his hoarse voice broke through the silence.

you quickly whipped your head around, slightly startled by the voice. how long had he been there?

“calm it woman i just got here. so you got any smokes or what?” he said, almost as if reading your mind. “i dont wanna be out here all night.”

you quickly shoved your hand into your pocket, pulling out a little box of cheap cigarettes and throwing it at him. “have the whole thing i don’t want them.” you huffed, before discreetly trying to wipe away any excess tears that had fallen.

“what’s got you so worked up doll?”

you let out a humorless laugh, “oh we’d be here for hours.”

“i’ve got some time, just not all night. i got a mission tomorrow.” he huffed as he sat down beside you.

you took notice of how close he was immediately. you didn’t say anything about it though, and just continued thinking. “just the past coming back to haunt me. especially on nights like these.”

“we all get those nights, doll. and what might be haunting you?”

you sighed, before tacking a drag of the cigarette he lit for you. “i was the oldest child of my family, and i guess i just over reflect sometimes and feel like i’m back in the pit i once was in. trying so hard to meet expectations and coming short handed. nothing is ever enough. and when we fail missions, as we did tonight, i feel back in that head space. i feel like i cant do anything right.” you sniffled again, water works beginning to form again.

damn it, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. especially with how complicated your feelings were for him.

“i was the oldest too. and i could never meet my fathers expectations. he fucked me up. and i’ve come to resent him instead of pity the situation. you need to fight back against that little thought in your head driving you insane. it’ll kill your spirit if you keep entertaining it. i talk from experience.” he slung an arm around your head and pulled you closer.

“you’re gonna be alright, doll. the expectations set on you are not a reflection of who you are. your worth is not determined if you meet them or not. you determine your own worth. and who gives a damn what other people think of you?” he finished, lightly petting your head.

he then leaned down to your ear, “and if you want my opinion, hand job is a man child who cries like a bitch when he doesn’t get what he wants. that’s not a reflection of you.” he chuckled when he heard you giggled at the nickname.

you sat up and brushed the excess tears off your face, sitting up straight and giving him a small smile. “thank you, dabi. really.”

“of course doll, if you need me i’m here. don’t tell anyone about this though. can’t have them thinking i’m all soft and shit.”

you giggled and punched his shoulder, “alright bacon bits.”

i hope this is okay! i couldnt quite figure out words today 😭 if you want a rewrite i can do that too

[jarvislover]

is considering jacking off to be a sport one of the COVID symptoms

Art creds:

wp_38_mayonezx (on Twitter)

vv3spa (on Twitter)

karonnnnn02 (here on tumblr)

[softdrabbles]

ashton was generally a pretty placid person but everything with daxton had an obvious effect on them. once upon a time they would have sworn that no matter how upset and angered they were by their twin, they'd never turn that anger on the people they cared about most until they had. their argument with carmen was proof of that. they wanted to believe that they could control their emotions around svea and the girls but now they just weren't sure and not having that control scared them. it scared them because they couldn't lose her. years of anger and abandonment that they had buried as a teenager was resurfacing and they didn't know how to deal with it, seeing how daxton was able to slip into something that numbed the feelings.

"i didn't know it was daxton when i got the message!" they argued back pulling out their phone holding it out to her, "tell me where it indicates that it's from them, svea?" they faced it back to them before reading it aloud, "b at jacksn reserv, 2pm. this bullshite ends now." they placed the phone on the kitchen counter scoffing at their partner's suggestion, "you cannot seriously be asking me that? that's ridiculous svea, of course i wouldn't. fuck, is that what you think of me?" they didn't blame her and of course she made a point with what she was saying. crossing their arms across their chest, they knew they needed help but were far too stubborn to admit it out loud. "you're acting like i put them in the damn hospital or something. do you know how many fights they've been in? too many to count and you know how i know that? because i was the one pulling them out! every. fucking. time. they have a few bruises and a split lip, they will live, svea."

they ran their good hand through their hair in frustration, "you don't even what? you may as well finish.." as if they hadn't had enough emotional trauma for one day, it seemed to keep coming, "i guess i'm not as perfect as you thought, huh? i'm just as fucked up as the rest of my good for nothing family." they bit their lip to feel something other than the pain of mentioning their family. they had to stop themself from having a complete breakdown over a situation that had a traumatic effect on them.

finally getting ahold of their breathing, they did their best to calm themself to a point where they could try and have a conversation with her. it was something that didn't last long as they listened to what their partner had started to explain to them. "you what?" the fact she'd gone behind their back infuriated them but also knew they'd be just as infuriated if she'd told them. "rich of you to school me on being upfront when you've been keeping this for months." they sighed as they paced back and forth, "i don't even know what to say to you right now. let me guess, they won you over with their stupid charm, just like they did at that party. none of you know what kind of shit they put us through. i'm really trying to give you the benefit here svea." they sat down on the couch in silence for what felt like an eternity, processing everything, before looking over at her, "i need help. i need you to help me. i don't want to be like this. i don't want to be like my parents. i don't want to be consumed with hate anymore or punch people to feel better. i don't want to lose you and i know that if i keep on this path, i will."

svea and ashton didn't really argue or fight. hell when they had disagreements they knew how to compromise, but these last couple of weeks have been nothing but them but stress. maybe not stress but they definitely were not seeing eye to eye since carmen's party. what ashton didn't know is that the way that ashton had reacted was a slight trigger for svea. jay had raised his voice before at her, and even though ashton didn't raise their voice at her it still made her wince. now seeing that ashton had gotten physical with their sibling, she felt uneasy about it. jay had thrown things towards svea but not directly at her — if that had made sense. her jaw was clenched; hands now on her hips as she listened to the other. " but you did lie, ashton! you just said you had some anonymous person telling you to meet them somewhere when it was daxton reaching out to you to meet them." the latter she knew because carmen had told them. svea knew it all and she was seeing if ashton would be flat out honest with her but clearly that wasn't the case. " so if daxton pleaded you to kill them you would?" it was an extreme exaggeration to make but it was the same gist of it all. not once had she thought that ashton would go out of their way to beat up their sibling. "i don't care that they pleaded because they know your hatred towards them. you take it to a punching bag or therapy or something !" " daxton is not to blame for what happened to you and carmen. i mean...fuck ashton. i don't even..." she really had nothing to say. honestly she didn't want to be in the same room as ashton currently. her blood was boiling but she was trying to remain calm and not to raise her voice as much knowing the girls were upstairs (and most likely listening in). what also ash didn't know was that svea had talked to daxton after reaching out to them. " daxton has been wanting to have a conversation with you since settling back into town. despite how small this town is, they were still trying hard not to get into your way but also wanted to reconcile things." the femme rubbed her forehead. " i know this because i talked to them after finding out about them. i reached out to see where their mind was at and letting them know how you would feel about them being around because i know you wouldn't."

[glittergroovy]

NISSAN ALTIMA · DOECHII

[rozecrest]

random parts of doechiis tiny desk keep playing in my head

[freakinator]

If you don’t mind, I’m gonna yap for a second.. I think another problem with Kab is how sudden the turn around was. Like in the first convo where Kab was acting “evil”, Zam fought back with the argument that she’s wasn’t really evil at all and I think he did believe that at least a little. And if Kab slowly began to turn her path around then he would be a bit more trusting cause he would have SEEN her actual emotional growth but the turn around was so fast, it feels like there was no emotional growth at all and that Kab is still the same as before, cause she basically is. She still wants Mane dead no matter the cost and she’s still, intentionally or not, trying to manipulate Zam, but she wants to be treated as if she’s had that whole long term emotional growth

yeah ii think this is where her majority experience with short-term smps really bit her in the ass, i think there are two main directions that other ppl take it tho: 1. is as what you speculate in that some ppl think that she hasnt had genuine growth and hasnt changed at all and 2. that she genuinely changes too quickly and is therefore unreliable regardless of if shes being honest or not

i think the reason zam was so receptive to her in silent scream was cause this has been a recurrent plot point for a couple streams now, kab trespassing zams base to yap while zam tries to decipher her wants and motivations until eventually she just let it all out and in that instance i think he did genuinely believed that she changed even if it was slowly/just a little bit

....but then die for you happened lol

ssee the thing about kab is that shes shes all-or-nothing, going from one extreme to the next after just a little bit of change in character which can be jarring to some ppl to say the least (unless you thought she was lying and therefore any character development shouldnt be believed i suppose) but is something that was a great asset in shorter and arena-based smps where you had to get as much advantage against your opponent as possible without having to worry about the long-term consequences of these actions ie them not trusting you while still having to interact often in mundane ways even after messing with them. while she Can be swayed this only really works with things she was already unsure of which while a great motivator and trait to keep her on track with her goals (again another great trait for short-term smps), can be really jarring and distressing for other ppl if the things she was absolutely sure about goes against their own perspective like for example her thinking that derapchu killing her constitutes zam getting payback for her as the protector of the server (The protector, not A protector like zam insists, The protector of the server)

i think shes far too used to the fast-paced instant acceptance of changed personality in arena smps that is a natural consequence of them being short-term and having a revolving door of members and teams which is why she expects ppl to accept her growth and efforts so quickly even if realistically nobody would hand over their trust that easily esp after essentially being harassed in their own home multiple times, like even in normal smps where theres a baseline amount of trust ppl still wouldnt trust you after doing that, what more in a server like lifesteal where general trust is low basically all the time?