#it just feels like everyone is expected to be some form of selfish and the internet/twitter has turned into a pool of sharks

[drdemonprince]

you have to be reasonable. have to see it from their perspective. but you can't be a doormat. nobody else will stand up for you but you. count five things you see. let your emotions happen. but only inside. don't fight them. but also don't be impulsive. don't react, plan. listen to wise mind. practice your coping skills. call a friend. but don't trauma dump. ask for help. but make sure you know exactly what you need. use your words. but don't feel entitled. understand that people have a lot going on. don't form expectations those are just premeditated resentments. but also don't go it alone. keep it together. have a cry. but only at the right times. it's okay to break down sometimes. but girl wash your face. take charge of your life. but make peace with the things you can't control. breathe. not that loud, you're making people uncomfortable. don't make other people responsible for how you feel. but don't keep it all stuffed inside. not seeking help will kill you, you know. but if you keep being so self-centered and selfish you'll drive everyone off. cut off people who don't treat you right. show yourself some self-respect. but don't have main character syndrome. understand that the center of the universe is not you. stop thinking about yourself so much. but go to therapy and work on yourself or nobody's gonna love you. overcome your trauma. but know and accept yourself. stop being so infantile. but stop acting like you're too old to change. take responsibility. stop apologizing so much. you have to guard your own peace. but if you're not worried by what's happening right now there must be something wrong with you.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

A Gift for Simon

Warnings: No Thoughts – Only Fluff, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Imagine you go up to Simon and you present him with an Altoid tin wallet. “I remember you saying your wallet broke the other day, so I thought maybe you could use this one until you got a new one :-).”

And you pass him a tiny little tin that, initially, leaves Simon both curious and confused. When he opens it, however, his breath catches in his throat, his heart stutters.

It’s perfectly furnished inside, tailored to his exact tastes based on morsels of information you’ve either discovered by accident or Simon has told you. You’ve made a little velvet pocket in the lid, the material Simon’s favourite colour, “So you can put your emergency money in there. I always put my coins in mine in case I need to get the bus home or buy some milk,” you tell him.

The idea of you doing something so domestic and, in some vein, humble, only endears you more to Simon. He should be taking you places; you shouldn’t be using your own money when you have him.

He says none of this, of course.

The other half is decorated with a quote cut out from his favourite book, stuck behind a fresh tube of chapstick and an elasticated hoop for him to put his house key in.

He wonders if you know his lips are chapped, whether you’ve looked at them as often as he finds himself watching yours whenever you accost him, privilege him with your time.

Regardless of how close the two of you are, whether you’re just acquainted neighbours or the closest of lovers, all Simon wants to do is wrap his arms around you and hold you as tight as you’ll allow. He wants to keep you all to himself, keep your kindness all for him, selfish in his endeavour to hide it from everyone else.

He knows it will be his undoing — this act of generosity you have bestowed unto him. But he can’t bring himself to fault it, even down to the idea that perhaps you expect something back from him. He’ll gladly give you anything you want if only you ask.

But you didn’t. You just smiled, bade him goodbye, and left to go about your day.

Not that you’d notice, but Simon held off on getting a new wallet for some time after that. Whenever you asked him, he’d tell you it slipped his mind, that the wallet you gave him is doing a good job anyway. Why put all the time you spent on it to waste, he thinks. And one day, he hopes he can say it, tell you to your face how his heart flurries, stutters whenever his fingers brush over that tiny tin wallet, whenever he holds it, Thumbelina in his behemoth hands. He feels your fingers there, painstaking piecing together a dream into this physical form, gossamer in its beauty, perishable in its disposition. Warm, warmth like he’s never known, and care. It’s visceral, palpable, and Simon holds it in his hand and never lets go. Not so long as he has breath in his body.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[amywritesthings]

dating on airplane mode. | part two.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader Fandom: attack on titan (modern au) Word Count: 3.5k Summary: So you're dating your neighbor who also happens to be a sex hotline dom named Levi Ackerman. Stranger things have happened, right?

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, neighbors au, newly established relationship, the direct sequel to Press Four For More Options Credits: dividers by @/saradika-graphics / gif by pankago

part one. / part three. | masterlist

There’s a pop-up shop about six floors above yours—

A noisy bar quickly becomes background white noise.

—if you don’t mind walking a neighbor home.

And within a breath, the world ceases to exist.

You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say, but it sure as hell isn’t that.

(He gets paid to be a smooth talker, but holy shit, it is catastrophically different when you’re saddled with the reality that you can walk — run — straight to the man inviting you to his home.)

Before you can even think, your voice blurts out of your parted lips:

“I don’t mind.”

Not.

At.

All.

Annie will forgive you.

Hell, you bet everyone crowding that tiny high-top table will forgive you come Monday morning when you’re back in the office.

Half of them won’t even remember that you were there in the first place. It’s a win-win situation.

There is no hesitation in the way you pick up your purse from the countertop and rush towards the front entrance of the bar, your eyes zeroed in on a patient Levi.

It takes some serpentining, but eventually you burst through the doors.

Levi turns towards you, his cell phone still held to his ear. 

There’s a little pink in his cheeks — from the nipping bite of the cold evening weather or his quick-witted pick-up line, you aren’t sure.

“Sorry,” you exhale like you’ve run a marathon in such a short distance. “I should’ve said bye or something before running out here, but I figured—”

The fringe of his hair shakes in his eyes as he holds up a finger to his lips.

Silence.

A stern expression replaces the debonair, and for a moment, you wonder if something is wrong.

But then—

“Yeah, no, I’m calling out for the evening,” he states. “Will you relay, Petra?”

Petra.

You know that woman’s name.

(The hotline receptionist responsible for connecting you to him.)

“Not an emergency, no,” he reassures, brows briefly knitting together. “Just taking some time off.” A pause. “Why are you laughing?” Another pause. “Forward them to Erwin. I trust him not to run my damn clients off. Thanks.”

Oh.

He’s—

“Sorry about that.”

Pocketing his phone, he squares his shoulders and waits expectantly. 

A suspicious crawl of embarrassment runs through your veins, like somehow being spontaneous — selfish — inconvenienced him.

“You had a shift tonight?” you ask belatedly.

“I did,” Levi admits, that buttery-smooth voice curving with a lift of amusement. “And now I don’t.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to mess up your—”

“I have over a hundred hours of time accrued,” he interrupts in the very tone he’s used in your sessions before when you chalk up your existence as being a nuisance to him: stop. “If anything, it’ll get them off of my ass for never using it.”

Your brows raise. “A hundred?”

“Over,” Levi corrects, “so you’re doing me a favor — if you’re still in the mood for tea, of course.”

There’s a pause. A taxi flies by to fill the anticipating void.

I’m well past the mood for tea — is what you would say if you were a psychopath.

Instead you clamp your mouth shut and nod. 

Levi nods with you, seemingly exhaling a breath he may have been holding. As he steps forward, one foot in front of the other.

His attention drops from your face, searching your form in a way that makes you feel exposed.

Wanted.

Then he clears his throat and raises a stiff elbow — a polite gesture.

Take it.

The sheer idea of touching him is so fucking daunting.

Until now, you haven’t done anything but fantasize about him, but he’s flesh and blood and right in front of you — if you’re willing to simply take.

So you do.

Slowly you glide your hand over the crease of his elbow, tucking it against his side until your bodies are looped. The sheer cut of his bicep in his 90-degree angle threatens to make you lose your composure.

Jesus, it’s so solid.

(It’ll be a miracle if you even make it back to his apartment in one piece, let alone your own after everything is said and done.)

He walks. You follow until you match his pace.

For most of the journey, the two of you step in silent tandem. 

While he stares ahead, stopping you both whenever you reach a crosswalk, you can’t help but look over his profile. His cheekbones are even higher than you imagined, chiseled from the Gods, with dark hair that fades in an undercut at the nape of his neck.

Levi is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life, and you live in a pretty damn busy city, so you’ve seen a lot of men.

“Stairs or elevator?” he asks once he breaks the rhythm of your feet to move two paces ahead, grabbing the door with his fist. He detaches from you to pull open the door, offering you to walk through first. 

You’re so giddy over the chivalry you nearly miss the question. 

“Wait, what?”

“Stairs.” He nods his head, the stark black fringe waving with it. “Or elevator.”

“You live on the sixteenth floor.” 

“Yeah.”

“Wait — Levi, do you walk the fucking stairs?”

Levi blinks like he has to remember that isn’t normal before clearing his throat.

“Sometimes.”

“Oh my god.”

“I didn’t want to get complacent after losing my job at the gym,” he states, changing his trajectory as he heads for the elevator instead.

You’re grateful that, for once, you’re not trying to act brave — or stupid.

Your big mouth doesn’t try to say that sixteen flights of stairs is totally fine just to impress him.

(This man has already heard what you sound like when you orgasm on more than one occasion. In some twisted way, the two of you are way past the surface stages of courting, but it doesn’t make this any less daunting.)

Once more he tracks ahead to hold the elevator door for you. Waiting until you’re comfortably inside, he presses the grayed ‘16’ button on the panel. It illuminates in an outdated hazy yellow — forcing your attention to the grayed ‘10’ just below it.

Six fucking floors, all this time.

Once the doors close, Levi Ackerman leans his back against the metal wall, his arms crossed and forearms barred from his rolled-up sleeves. 

You stay put in the dead center of the lift, watching him stare at the elevator panel until he lifts his chin to look back at you.

Neither of you look away.

The prolonged eye contact feels like an acknowledgement of a solved mystery between two people.

He knows you better than most people. You’d wager you may know him just as well.

“You okay?” he asks, softer this time. 

The intensity of his gaze doesn’t waver.

You find yourself nodding before you realize it. 

“Are you?”

Levi takes a moment to drop his attention an indiscernible amount, mulling over your question, before meeting your eyes once again.

“Yeah. Better than.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nothing can stop the smile growing on your face, not even by pressing your lips together.

“Never told me your preference,” he states casually, shaking some of his black fringe from his eyes. “In tea, I mean.”

“I’m happy to have whatever you have,” you promise. “I’m not picky.”

“You can be,” he promises right back. “Trust me, I have every type of tea you could think of.”

“Hoarding?”

“Hopelessly addicted, more like.”

The elevator pauses and gives way to the sixteenth floor’s hallway. When the door opens, Levi unfurls his arms to hold his hand out for you to take — only to seem to think better of it and fish for his keys instead as he takes the lead.

Instinctually your hand flexes at the ready to accept, but it falls limp to your side with the decision to simply follow behind.

(Yeah — you’re not used to the proximity yet, either.)

After passing a few apartments, Levi pauses at a door identical to yours and fiddles with the lock until it gives. 

He pushes it open, gesturing for you to walk in first.

A part of you wants to hesitate.

The rest of you refuses.

His apartment is clean to a degree you’ve never seen before — for a person who had no idea he was going to end up coming home with a stranger, you’re impressed by the lack of clothes lying about or…

Really anything.

Everything appears pristine. 

Taken care of.

So meticulously in order that you quickly toe each shoe off before stepping inside to leave the dirt and grime of the city at his doorstep. 

Levi follows suit, removing his shoes and closing the door behind him.

As you stand awkwardly by the door, he shuffles around you to the kitchenette mirroring yours a few apartments below. 

He reaches up into the cupboards to take out two mugs, preparing a kettle on the stove.

“Make yourself at home,” he offers, glancing over his shoulder towards you.

Right.

At home.

At home in the apartment where you got your shit verbally rocked for a week straight.

Afraid of offending him, you begin a slow mosey around the perimeter.

To the right is a cluster of framed photographs hanging on a wall — one portrays a tall, handsome blonde wearing dog tags around his neck and an all-smiles brunette with glasses cinching a less-than-enthused Levi between them. 

The proximity suggests they could be his friends, though the keys each person holds in the photo makes you realize a second later: 

In the background is a boxing ring, barely unpacked.

The co-owners of the old gym, maybe?

Considering the one person has dog tags, you can only assume they all met in the army and found themselves in the same city after deployment.

Another framed photograph has Levi in a similar annoyed disposition, arms crossed and unenthusiastic in contrast to the surrounding smiling young adults. They crowd him in various poses of muscle flexing, proudly sporting Survey Gym tees.

So his gym was called Survey Gym, huh?

The name rings a bell, if only in passing.

The young faces surrounding him must have been his trainees. His fighters.

(The people he held dear before the gym went under and he had to find a new path.)

“Trying to find dirt on me already?”

His voice makes you jump out of your damn skin.

“Oh — shit, sorry,” you sputter, stepping away from the wall. “I was just—”

“That was a joke,” he interrupts, the corner of his lip twitching. 

Levi takes the initiative to walk over to you with both mugs in hand, steaming from freshly brewed tea.

He holds out a no-frills emerald mug to you, and the scent finally catches your nose:

Lavender.

“Those are my friends, if you’re too polite to ask.”

“I was relying on context clues,” you confess, mindful of the heat when taking the mug from his hand. You sip until a familiar warmth spreads through your body. “Co-owners?”

“Used to be,” he answers after his own gulp. His free hand gestures to the photo with two people. “Hange’s probably clinically insane and Erwin’s not much better.”

“The guy you mentioned over the phone to Petra?”

Levi nods, taking another long sip of his tea. You follow suit, enjoying the taste.

“Same guy who got me into the hotline, yeah.” He switches focus to the other photo. “Some of my fighters. They’re busy training with other coaches and shit now.”

“Would you ever go back to training fighters if you could?”

“Probably,” Levi replies, “but I’m not exactly the easiest to work with. If I’m training anyone, it’s alongside Erwin. No exceptions.”

Silence settles between your bodies.

As you continue to stand there, allowing the aroma of the tea to calm your senses, you know — the longer you stand here, the more what ifs begin to plague your mind.

What if you met his friends, became a part of his life?

What if you don’t measure up to his expectations?

What if you just said what was on your mind without holding back — would it scare him?

When you feel your mug suddenly grow light, your instinct is to clench your hand around the ceramic handle.

However, you come back down to Earth to realize the person maneuvering the cup is Levi, who has in turn moved closer to you —

So close you can smell the faint scent of a woody, musky cologne.

Angled towards your body, he pauses in removing the mug from your hands when he feels your muscles tense. “You’re disappearing on me.”

So he noticed, even in person.

Say it.

Say it, idiot.

“Just…” 

Trailing off, you find yourself trusting him; letting go of the mug freely so that he can take it back. Levi sets both mugs down on a slender table situated just under the photographs, placing them on swirling marble coasters.

“Just?” he repeats, a mere murmur this time.

“This doesn’t feel real yet,” you confess. “Being here with you. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I wanted this but in my own apartment. Hell, it feels like this is my apartment because we have the same fucking layout — but yours is so much cleaner, I won’t even lie to you.”

It brings you both to laugh under your breath, octaves intertwining. 

When he shakes his head, you find yourself gravitating to his orbit.

“Doubt it’s bad.”

“Oh, it’s a pigsty compared to this place,” you nervously giggle, moving even closer. “Like, I should go home to clean it �� but later.”

“Definitely later.”

“Like tomorrow kind of later," you accidentally joke.

“Agreed.”

Oh.

Before the realization hits you, your breath tickles his cheek. Levi is practically toe-to-toe and warm, so very warm, to the degree of dizzying every reservation you had.

You don’t have the confidence to stare anywhere but his lips, parted with little puffs mirroring yours.

“And what is that you want now?” he adds quietly — a question that shoots straight to your core, twisting it with an intense desire that it nearly takes your breath away.

You know.

And if you were a gambling woman, then you suspect that he knows, too.

Three words exit your mouth, straight from your very soul:

“To be selfish.”

It’s all it takes.

As if released from a leash holding you both to your leads, you meet Levi in a passionate, suffocating kiss. 

His hands reach for your face the same time you reach for his, mangling your limbs in a race to touch, to hold — to feel.

Manners are left behind as you press your lips to his, kissing him like you’ll die without. Your own hands bury themselves in the softness of his hair, dragging through the freshly-buzzed undercut and earning yourself a groan.

Shit.

He sounds even better in person.

“Levi—”

You part your lips with a shuddered breath when his tongue leisurely slides across it. All coherent thought ceases to exist.

It’s just him pushing closer — guiding you backwards — until your back hits something solid.

A surprised grunt melts into another groan as he moves one hand to cradle your head, mindful that the back of your skull doesn’t slam against the wall.

Levi tastes like the pineapple seltzer you abandoned back at the bar.

You want this.

Him.

Never in your wildest dreams have you considered sleeping over a man’s apartment before the third date, let alone the first, yet the heat of him — the taste of him — opens brand-new possibilities that mostly focus on the rest of that body underneath his gray long-sleeved shirt.

You're already grabbing the hem of your shirt. The fabric feels too tight against your blazing skin.

Off.

Everything needs to be off.

“Hey,” he exhales in-between kisses, catching your lower lip in his teeth to tug at it. Instantly you whine into his mouth, an involuntary (and fucking embarrassing) noise. “Hey—”

If he asks, you’ll say yes. 

To hell with the unwritten rules.

You’re consenting adults, it’s clear you both want this, and when push comes to shove —

A hand shoots out, covering yours before your shirt can lift over your bra.

“Baby—”

All motor functions effectively freeze when you realize Levi is pulling away, forcefully creating some distance between your panting bodies.

“Baby, listen to me.”

As if in pain, he grits his teeth and pulls away from the kiss, eyes damn near black. 

You’re left watching, stunned and disheveled and painfully aroused.

Worries go from nonexistent to overdrive in a matter of seconds.

“What’s wrong?” you quietly ask despite your budding panic. “Fuck. Sorry, did I do something wro—”

“No. Shit, are you kidding?”

Those stormy eyes catch yours, and you feel another sharp wave of desire flow through your body.

“You’re perfect,” Levi continues, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re fucking perfect, it’s just—”

Just.

One word acts like a splash of cold water.

You’re perfect, but something is imperfect about this. 

You’re perfect, but he still wants to stop.

Levi scowls, voice rough. “Oi. I can hear you thinking a mile a minute.”

Heat rises to your face. “Me?”

“Yeah, you — so don’t.”

For good measure of reassurance, Levi leans back in to gently peck your lips. It’s less heated but by no means less passionate.

You belatedly press your lips back to his before watching him pull away. 

His lips are slick with saliva and exertion. 

There’s a deeper flush on his face that wasn’t there earlier.

“It’s just that I don’t want to rush this,” he states as calmly and evenly as he can.

Objectively, you get it.

Objectively, Levi is making a whole lot of sense. Rushing into things could end up with a lot of heartbreak and confusion. Taking it slow hurts way less than speedrunning the firsts of a new dating-situation-whatever this is.

Subjectively, you’ve heard him moan in your actual face and you would very much like to hear it again and again until it’s burned into the back of your brain like a core memory.

“And I’m not trying to say that we can’t — trust me, I want to — but you’re not some one-night stand to me in any capacity of the damn phrase.”

Unable to help yourself, you nervously roll your eyes and shrug a shoulder. 

“Technically we’re kind of way past one night stands considering we’ve had, like, six.”

A wicked smirk flickers across his face. 

“Yeah, no fucking kidding — but that isn’t what I mean.”

Taking yet another slow, even inhale, the dark-haired man runs his thumb affectionately over your cheek.

“Let me do right by you. By this. Even if it’s corny as shit, I’ll try it.”

Pausing, he drops the hand on your face to gently take your hand.

“I want to take you out on a date. A nice date. Something proper — starting with finishing our tea, then walking you home so I know you got to your apartment safe.”

“I’m six floors away, Levi,” you tease.

“I’ll settle on taking the elevator with you,” he retorts, teasing right back. "Still: let me prove I can be good to you. That I can earn you."

He pauses, jaw clenched.

"Earn us."

Reluctantly you both detach, the taste shared on your lips. He wastes no time to take your hand in his, squeezing it for emphasis, before giving you back your cup of tea.

Although the room is charged with tension, you both behave.

Sipping tea.

Holding hands.

Staring.

As much as you want to act on your desires, you’re flattered he’s so adamant to take this slow.

It only grounds this fantasy further into the woven fabric of reality — of what’s to come in your life.

Levi is good on his word: he walks you to the elevator, through the corridor and to your apartment.

And when you’ve managed to wriggle your keys into the door, he gently calls your name.

Just as you turn, he places that warm hand on your cheek and presses his lips back to yours.

This time it’s chaste, sweet — lingering.

They brush yours methodically, as if committing your body to memory, before reluctantly pulling away.

“Goodnight, formerly Scarlet,” he states under his breath for only you to hear.

“Goodnight, still Levi,” you return, mirroring his intimacy in tone.

Satisfied, he kisses you one final time before pulling away. 

You watch as he walks backwards towards the stairwell of the apartment complex, a certain glow about him as he asks:

“Will I see you at the gym in the morning?”

As if you’d ever skip a leg day now.

.

Author's Note:

First of all, much love and appreciation for your patience as I finally found the mental capacity to write this chapter. Naturally it was easier to write in the summer, and fall has been A Time (TM). I have a lot of big life events coming up in the next few weeks, but I will keep the dash posted on when they should expect part three.

Thank you for any likes, replies, etc. Every reblog gives this writer wings.

[seriiousgiirl]

𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 — 𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝒿𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓍 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓇!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇.⊹ ₊ ݁.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. alternate universe - canon divergence, post-silent Hill 2, angst and fluff and smut, touch-starved, redemption, grief, mourning, psychological trauma and horror, mutual pining, James adopted Laura, age difference, smut, vaginal sex, rough sex, rough kissing, aftercare, daddy kink, James deserves his happy ending, James is desperate and pathetic, based on the Silent Hill Games and mostly the remake

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 . ⊹ ₊ ݁. It's in this chapter that the smut warning applies.

❛ Part 1 ⋅ Part 5 ⋅ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ⋅ requests ❜

➜ ┊ a/n: Hello everyone, sorry for the short notice. I've had a tough few days (insomnia, mostly), and had to take a little break. But I'm back and hope to be able to post chapters 5 and 6 in the next few weeks. Thanks again for your support and patience!

Some people have also asked me to create a James bot on C.AI or Janitor.AI based on this story, I don't know if anyone would be interested?

➜ ┊: chapter 4/?.

It had been a few days since you’d ventured into James's world, and with that, a peculiar silence had settled over everything, thick and suffocating. The morning after your dinner together had dawned heavy with a sense of dread that gnawed at your stomach, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sight of James slipping past you like a shadow, his gaze averted as if your presence were a ghostly reminder of something he couldn’t bear to confront.

You tried to catch his eye, hoping for a fleeting moment of connection, something to bridge the chasm that had formed between you. Yet, he always seemed to look away at the last possible second, as if he feared the intensity of your gaze would draw forth feelings he wasn’t ready to face. Each time he turned his head, it felt like a small wound, reopening the ache of unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

It hurt more than you expected.

He’d been around, of course, often dropping Laura off at school, looking as handsome as ever but visibly worn down by an invisible burden. On one particular evening, you caught a glimpse of him through the dim light of the setting sun, his features sharp yet shadowed, eyes heavy with fatigue. The sight pained you; it was a reminder of the struggles he was wrestling with, of the grief that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

At school, he continued to avoid you like the plague, slipping in and out during drop-offs and pick-ups. Each encounter made your heart race, a confusing mix of longing and disappointment washing over you. 

One afternoon, as he picked Laura up, the air felt charged. He glanced in your direction for a fleeting moment, and your heart soared, only for it to plummet when he quickly turned away, his expression unreadable. In that instant, you caught a glimpse of his profile—handsome, defined, yet somehow haunted by the spectres of his past. 

You longed for him to break the silence, to bridge the gap between you with words or even a gentle touch, but he remained ensconced in his own silence, treating you like a spectre haunting the corners of his life. And deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if he saw you that way, too—just a ghost lingering in the echoes of his memories.

As you recalled those fleeting moments you had shared, a heaviness settled in your chest. The warmth of his body against yours, the way his large hand had cradled your face and hips, and the soft whisper of your name escaping his lips—it all felt vivid, alive in your memory. Yet, each recollection came with the stark reminder of Mary, the wife he had lost, her absence casting long shadows over everything that might have been between you.

Guilt began to intertwine with your yearning, an insidious companion that lingered in the recesses of your mind. Had you tempted him into something he wasn’t ready for? Was it selfish of you to wish for him to lean into those feelings, to seek solace in you while his heart still mourned the love he had lost? The conflict twisted within you, a complex blend of desire and sorrow that left you feeling hollow, as if you were reaching for something just beyond your grasp.

But as the days turned into an endless cycle of longing and uncertainty, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the ache in your heart—the longing for connection, for understanding, for the warmth of his touch. With every glance, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too or if he was simply drowning in his own sorrow, oblivious to the chaotic whirlwind of emotions swirling within you.

It was an afternoon like any other, with the classroom quiet and still, the hum of the school day long gone. The children had all gone home, and you were left tidying up, humming softly to yourself as you wiped down the desks, erasing the chalk from the board. The fading light of the setting sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you were almost ready to head home yourself.

Until you heard his voice.

“Y/n?”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. Slowly, you turned toward the door, and there stood James, leaning slightly against the frame. The sight of him made your heart sink. His eyes, deep and brooding, seemed weighed down by something heavier than just exhaustion. His whole demeanour—shoulders slumped, head bowed slightly—was one of someone carrying far too much on his own. He looked utterly pathetic, and it wasn’t just fatigue; it was something deeper, like a man on the edge of breaking but holding himself together out of sheer necessity.

You had never seen anyone look quite so lost. He looked so lost, like a sad puppy that had wandered too far from home. His sadness was so palpable, it made the air in the room feel thick, pressing against your chest. There was no hiding it, no masking it behind small talk or a forced smile. It was right there in his gaze, that flicker of torment that hadn’t left since you’d first met him.

It hurt to see him like this—more than it should have, more than you wanted to admit. 

He was always handsome, even in his weariness, but today he looked like a ghost of himself. Before, when you didn’t know the full story, his sadness had seemed almost abstract, a mystery you couldn’t quite solve. But now, with everything you knew about his past—about Mary, Laura, and the guilt that haunted him—it was impossible to not feel his pain as if it were your own.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. The weight of his presence had stolen your voice. You tried to think of something casual, something that wouldn’t betray how much seeing him like this affected you, but everything felt inadequate. How could you offer comfort when you felt so tangled up in your own feelings for him?

Finally, your voice, soft and tentative, broke the silence. "James... why are you here?"

He looked up at you, almost startled, as if he wasn’t expecting you to acknowledge him. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before dropping again, his fingers fidgeting slightly at his side. He looked embarrassed, maybe even ashamed to be there, as if he didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

“Laura…” His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, like it took everything in him just to speak. “She forgot her maths book.” He paused, swallowing thickly before continuing. “We started her homework, and it was only then she noticed it was missing.”

His explanation was so simple, so mundane, and yet the way he said it made it feel like so much more. Like this wasn’t just about a forgotten book. It was about him reaching out, searching for something—perhaps even without knowing what. You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral, though your heart ached for him. 

He was a mess, a man so clearly lost in his own grief and guilt, and it pained you to see him standing there, barely holding himself together. He looked like he could fall apart at any moment, and yet, here he was, making the effort for Laura, for something as trivial as a schoolbook. You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned toward the shelves where you kept the children’s books. “I see... Let me find it for you,” you said, your voice gentle, careful, not wanting to add to the weight he was already carrying.

As you moved to locate the book, your mind raced. James had always been distant, but today was different. He looked shattered, a man barely hanging on, and the worst part was knowing that nothing you said or did could fix that. His sadness was his own, something too deep and personal for anyone to reach, but it didn’t stop you from wanting to try. Even if you couldn’t save him, you wanted to at least ease the burden, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

When you turned to see James, he had already stepped into the classroom, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound sent a shiver through you, sharp and sudden. You hadn’t expected him to come any closer, but there he was, just a few feet away now, the air between you suddenly thick with something unspoken.

Your heart began to race, and you could feel it in your chest as you inhaled the faint scent of his cologne—a subtle, masculine fragrance that was almost too quiet to notice. Yet it wasn’t too quiet for you. You had spent so many days since that afternoon thinking about him, about every detail of him, that missing his scent would be impossible.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you retrieved the book from the shelf, but when you turned back to hand it to him, your fingers trembled. You reached out, the textbook in your hand, but instead of just taking it, James’s hand brushed against yours. His touch was gentle, but there was something intentional about it, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

He didn’t pull away.

His hand remained on yours, fingers curling slightly around the book, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, his gaze locking with yours for the first time in days. His eyes, so full of sadness and longing, seemed to search for something in you, something he couldn’t say out loud. And for a moment, everything else disappeared—the classroom, the empty halls, the world beyond those four walls. It was just you and him, standing there in the stillness, the weight of all that had been left unsaid pressing down on both of you.

You couldn’t move. His eyes held you in place, and you saw something in them you hadn’t seen before—a hesitation, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out at first. He just stood there, his body tense, his hand still on yours, his expression torn between so many emotions that it was almost painful to witness.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, two simple words finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it hit you like a tidal wave. The apology was raw, carrying with it all the weight of the things he couldn’t say—the regret, the guilt, the pain that had been eating away at him since that day. And in that moment, you realised just how much he had been struggling, how much he had been carrying alone. Your breath hitched, and you felt your chest tighten again, this time with the surge of emotions you’d been holding back. His hand was still on yours, his touch warm, but there was a distance between you now that went beyond physical space. It was the distance of two people caught between what had happened and what could never be undone.

You wanted to say something, anything to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, that you didn’t blame him for what happened between you. But the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stand there, trembling under his gaze, as his apology hung in the air between you like a fragile, broken thing.

James’s lips trembled again, as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at you with those sad, haunted eyes, and for the first time, you saw how close he was to breaking.

But then, slowly, his other hand rose, trembling slightly as it reached toward you. You didn’t move, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers gently brushed a strand of your hair. The contact was so delicate, almost reverent, as though he feared you might break if he held on too tightly.

He pulled the strand toward his face, his movements hesitant and slow, and before you could fully comprehend what he was doing, James pressed the strand of your hair against his nose. His eyes fluttered closed, and he inhaled deeply, breathing you in as though he had been starved of the scent, like it was something he’d been longing for since the last time he held you close. His chest rose with the depth of his breath, the movement laboured, as if the act itself was painful.

The sight of him, standing there with your hair pressed against his face, was intimate—achingly so. There was a vulnerability to him that broke something inside you, as if you were seeing a part of James he had kept hidden, even from himself. His expression twisted, and though his eyes were shut, you could see the torment etched across his features—the crease of his brow, the tight line of his jaw, the way his lips parted with an unspoken agony.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice trembling. He sounded broken, the words choked out like they were tearing him apart from the inside. “I’m so sorry.”

It was like he couldn’t stop apologising, each repetition heavier than the last, as though he were trying to atone for everything. His hand in your hair trembled, but he didn’t let go, as if holding onto that small piece of you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

His apology was raw, relentless, his voice cracking with every word, and you could feel the storm of emotions he was fighting to contain—grief, guilt, desire, all wrapped up in that one act of holding your hair to his face like it was his lifeline. You wanted to say something, to comfort him, to reach out and tell him it was okay, that you didn’t regret what had happened between you. But all you could do was watch him, your heart pounding in your chest as his pain washed over you. His other hand still rested on yours, and for a moment, it felt like the only thing connecting him to reality was the physical touch between you.

James’ breaths grew heavier, and his chest rose and fell with the force of his emotions. His eyes remained closed, his face buried in that single strand of your hair, as if he could hide from the world in that small, fleeting connection. 

“I shouldn’t want this,” he murmured, his voice almost inaudible. His lips trembled as he spoke, and when his eyes opened again, they were filled with the kind of torment that twisted your stomach. “But I can’t help it. I’ve tried.”

Your hand moved almost instinctively, fingers trembling as they brushed against James' cheek. His skin was warm beneath your touch, rough from the stubble that had grown in the past few days. He flinched ever so slightly at the contact, but then, as if he had been waiting for it—desperate for it—he leaned into your hand, pressing his face against your palm like a man starved of human touch.

The vulnerability in the gesture broke your heart. You could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the guilt he carried like a burden too heavy for one person to bear. His eyes fluttered shut again, and a shuddering breath escaped him, his body trembling as he leaned further into you.

"It’s okay," you whispered, your voice soft, trying to offer him some comfort, some relief. "You didn’t do anything wrong, James."

His brow furrowed at your words, as though they caused him physical pain. He shook his head, not moving from your touch but rejecting your reassurance with a stubbornness that spoke of the battles raging inside him. He couldn't accept it—couldn't allow himself to believe that he wasn't at fault. That this connection between the two of you wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

"No," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It’s not okay... I... I shouldn’t... I—" His voice cracked, and he drew in a sharp breath, his shoulders trembling as though the emotions were too much to contain.

You could feel him holding back, the restraint in the way he stayed so close but didn’t dare cross the line again. His lips were parted, and he kept stealing glances at you as though he wanted to say something more, to let it all out—but couldn’t.

"James..." you started, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. His hand was still on yours, holding it against his face like he couldn’t bear to let go. "You don’t have to keep punishing yourself. You’re allowed to feel, to want something... someone."

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, just kept his eyes closed, focusing on your touch. The silence was heavy, and it pained you to see him like this—so conflicted, so torn between what he felt and what he believed was right.

“I shouldn’t want this," he muttered again, voice choked. "I can’t. Not after everything I’ve done… not after Mary."

His words hung in the air, and the mention of her name felt like a knife to the chest. You knew this wasn’t just about you—this was about the weight of his past, the ghosts he couldn’t escape. His guilt over what had happened to her, the pain he still carried even though she was gone. But as he leaned into your touch, it felt like he was clinging to you, searching for something, someone to pull him out of the darkness that had swallowed him whole.

"James," you whispered again, your voice soft but firm. "You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to be."

His breath hitched at your words, and for a brief moment, you saw something in his eyes—something raw and desperate, a need that went beyond anything physical. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, breaking the contact, his face a mask of anguish.

"I can't," he whispered. "I don't deserve this... I don’t deserve you."

The words hit you hard, and you could see the pain behind them, the deep-seated belief that he was beyond redemption. He tried to pull away from you, as if punishing himself further, but you didn’t let him. You wouldn’t let him.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, closing the distance between you. "You’re not the monster you think you are," you said softly. "You’re a good man, James. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere." 

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he fought back the torrent of emotions. 

You sighed softly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you as you searched his face. His pain, his guilt—it was unbearable to witness. You wanted to do something, anything, to take it away, to make it easier for him. You didn’t know how far you were willing to go for him, but the sight of him breaking down before you was too much.

"It’s awful to see you like this, James," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his tormented eyes. "If it would help... if it would relieve you, then you can claim what you want. Whatever it is, I’m here, I… I won’t say anything, it’ll be a secret. Like nothing ever happened."

The words slipped out before you could fully comprehend their weight, but you meant them. The offer hung in the air like a lifeline, and as soon as they left your lips, something inside James seemed to shift. His eyes darkened, a spark of something raw and desperate flickering to life. Hunger. The same hunger you had seen before but held back by layers of guilt and self-loathing. Now, at your words, it began to surface, threatening to consume him.

The maths book you had handed him slipped from his grasp, falling forgotten to the floor with a soft thud. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were afraid to break the fragile tension between you, but he leaned down, his hands trembling as they cupped your cheeks. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers grazing your skin as though he couldn’t believe you were real.

His nose brushed against yours, his breath warm on your lips, and the closeness was intoxicating. You could feel the raw emotion radiating from him. It was palpable, and in that moment, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not the guilt. Not the pain.

Just him.

"I... I don’t know if I can stop," he whispered, his voice strained, almost pleading as though he were asking for permission to give in to what he wanted. "I’m so tired of fighting it..."

His lips hovered just above yours, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his hesitation, the battle waging inside him. But the hunger in his eyes was undeniable now. You closed your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest, and whispered, "Then don’t." 

It was all the permission he needed. James closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was hungry, desperate, and full of all the emotions he had been holding back for so long. His hands tightened on your cheeks, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go.

His need for you was overwhelming, and in that moment, it was as if nothing else existed but the two of you, lost in a sea of desire and emotion that neither of you could control anymore. 

James's tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you with a desperation that bordered on feral. He licked along your tongue, sucking on it, as though attempting to devour you from the inside out. His hands gripped your hair, holding you in place as he plundered your mouth. Between frantic, sloppy kisses, James tore his mouth away just enough to gasp out, "We shouldn't... This is so wrong..." Even as the words left his lips, his body betrayed his true desires. His hips rocked against you, grinding his hardening length against your core.

You pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on with breathless whispers. "Take what you need," you coaxed, your voice thick with want. "I'm yours, James. Let go and just feel..."

A low groan rumbled in his chest as James surrendered to the all-consuming need coursing through him. His tongue tangled with yours, licking into your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping at it with his teeth before soothing the sting with his tongue. "Fuck, you taste so good," James panted against your lips, his voice raw with desperation. "I've wanted this for so long… But I shouldn’t…" 

But even as the words left his lips, his actions told a different story. His hands were roaming your body now, as if seeking to memorise every curve and dip through your clothes. He groaned when his palm brushed over your breast, giving it a rough squeeze. "Tell me to stop," James pleaded, his voice ragged with need. "Y/n, please... I don't know if I can hold back if you keep encouraging me like this."

He punctuated his words with another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth possessively. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. James' hands slid around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him. With a low groan, he turned and pushed you up against the bookshelf, pinning you there with his body.

"I want to hear you moan for me, Y/n," he growled, his voice rough with desire. His hands caressed up your thighs, slipping under your skirt. He nipped at your earlobe, his hot breath making you shiver. "I need to feel how wet you are for me." His fingers brushed over the damp fabric of your panties and you couldn't suppress the breathy whimper that escaped your lips. James rumbled his approval.

"Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned, rubbing his palm against your clothed slit. "I can feel how much you want this. How much you want me." He slipped a finger beneath your panties, teasing your slick folds. You gasped at the first touch, your walls fluttering around the digit. James curled his finger, stroking over your sensitive nerves and drawing out needy moans.

"That's it, baby," he crooned, working you with his fingers. "Let me hear how good I make you feel. I want everyone in this school to know who you belong to." He captured your lips in another searing kiss as he fingered you harder, his thumb circling your clit. The obscene wet sounds of your arousal filled the air, mixing with your wanton moans and the creaking of the bookshelf as James rutted against you.

Lost in a haze of pleasure, you could only cling to him, surrendering yourself to the intensity of his touch. In that moment, nothing existed but your rejected love and the overwhelming need consuming you both.

Your moans grew louder as James' fingers delved deeper, stroking over your most sensitive spots. Electric pleasure sparked through your body with each thrust, your walls clenching greedily around his digits. "Oh god, James!" you cried out, your hips rolling to meet his touch. "Don't stop, it feels incredible..."

He grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You like being fingered in the middle of the class, don't you? Waiting for me to come claim you, to touch you like this where anyone could see." James curled his fingers just right, rubbing insistently over your G-spot. Your knees nearly buckled at the intense sensation, a flood of wetness coating his hand.

"Answer me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Tell me how much you love being touched by me, even if someone walks by and hears what a needy little thing you are." To emphasise his point, James slipped his fingers out and pushed two back in, spreading them wide to stretch you open. 

You keened at the lewd intrusion, your pussy fluttering wildly. "Please..." you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for. More, harder, anything to relieve the building pressure inside you.

"Please what?" James teased, pumping his fingers slowly. "Use your words, Y/n. Let everyone know how badly you need to be fucked."

He twisted his wrist, rubbing over that spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyes. Your moans reached a fever pitch, echoing off the bookshelves. Distantly, you registered the risk of discovery, but it only seemed to heighten your arousal. In that moment, pinned between James' hard body and the shelf, you didn't care who saw or heard. You just needed him to touch you more, to claim you completely. Consequences be damned.

Your body tensed, muscles pulling tight as your orgasm crashed over you. "Oh fuck, James!" you cried out, voice breaking on his name. Pleasure overwhelmed your senses, your pussy spasming uncontrollably around his fingers as you came hard. James groaned, working you through it, his fingers gentling. He rubbed soothing circles over your clit as you rode out the waves, drawing out your bliss.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let go for me," he encouraged. "You're so fucking beautiful when you cum."

As your climax ebbed, James withdrew his hand, bringing his slick fingers to his mouth. He licked them clean, savouring your taste with a low hum of appreciation. "Mmm, you taste as sweet as I imagined," James purred. "Seeing you fall apart for me, knowing I did that... Fuck, it's almost enough to make me cum in my jeans."

He rocked his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your thigh. You glanced down and saw a damp patch spreading on the fabric where his cock twitched urgently. James was right on the edge, aching for release. "Do you want to feel me cum?" he asked, voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Want to see me lose control for you?"

“Y-Yes, please.” You said, your voice still trembling with the aftermath of your orgasm.

James fumbled with his fly, freeing his throbbing cock. It sprang out, flushed and leaking, the tip slick with precum. He wrapped a hand around himself and stroked, hissing at the sensation. "Fuck, just like that," he grunted, working his shaft faster. "Watching you cum got me so hard, Y/n. I'm gonna... Ungh!"

With a final few tight pumps, James threw his head back with a guttural moan as his orgasm hit. Thick ropes of cum spurted from his cock, splattering obscenely across your skirt. He milked himself through it, riding out the intense waves of pleasure. Panting, James slumped against you, his softening cock still in his hand. He captured your lips in a languid kiss, sharing your taste between you. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with satisfaction.

"That was... Wow," he breathed, pressing his forehead to yours. "I don't think I've ever cum that hard in my life."

Your legs trembled, the aftershocks still singing through your nerves. You'd never experienced anything so intense, so all-consuming. James had ruined you for anyone else, with a single touch. You knew you were addicted to the way only he could make you feel.

James helped you smooth your skirt back down and straighten your clothes, his touch gentle but almost impersonal now. There was a new tension in his shoulders as he tucked himself away and refastened his jeans, movements sharp. When he turned back to you, his expression was unreadable. Gone was the vulnerable, broken man who had confessed his feelings. In his place stood a stranger, cold and distant.

"We're keeping this a secret, right?" James asked, his tone almost accusatory. "Like nothing happened."

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Was this really the same man who had been kissing you so passionately and worshipped your body just minutes ago? Shame and confusion warred within you as you nodded mutely.

James searched your face for a long moment, his jaw clenched tight. "Good."

You swallowed back the hurt, forcing a stiff nod of agreement. "Of course. I won't say a word," you murmured, your voice small.

James' expression softened slightly at your acquiescence, some of the anger draining from his posture. "I didn't mean... Fuck. This doesn't change anything, okay? You're still the teacher of my daughter. I can't cross that line again." The mixed message confused you further. If he regretted what happened, why the anger?

But before you could respond, James was already turning away, taking Laura’s maths book on the floor. The dismissal was clear. Whatever connection you thought you'd felt, it was gone now. Just a fleeting illusion born of heat and proximity. Numb, you collected your own books, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. James wasn't angry because he regretted what you shared. He was angry because he didn't. 

Because he liked it too much, wanted it too much. And that scared him.

Because it terrified you as well, the intensity of your reaction to his touch. The way your heart raced and your body ached, even now. This thing between you... It was dangerous. Forbidden. But God help you, a traitorous part of you wanted to do it all again. To hell with the consequences.

Shaking your head to clear it, you slipped past James without another word. You had to get out of here, had to put some distance between your bodies before you gave in to temptation again.

As James left without another word, you fled the classroom just minutes later and you couldn't help but wonder what this meant for your future. Could you really go back to a normal parent-teacher relationship after this? Or would the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips devouring yours, be enough to drive you to distraction? Only time would tell. But one thing was certain - your feelings for James would never be the same. 

And that terrified you more than any other outcome.

───────────────

Following that afternoon, you had braced yourself for James to disappear from your life, retreating back into the shadows of his grief and responsibilities. Yet, to your surprise, he returned.

James would go to great lengths to ensure these meetings remained shrouded in secrecy. He would meticulously arrange for someone to look after Laura, his little girl blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in her father's heart. The logistics felt cold and clinical, but you understood his reasoning: if Laura saw you at his home too often, she'd start asking questions. And questions were the last thing he wanted to deal with. When he suggested booking a hotel, you sensed it was more than just practicality. It was as if he wanted to keep the entire affair compartmentalised—a small, dark corner of his life that could remain untouched by the chaos of his emotions. 

James often reminded you that it “meant nothing,” and part of you wanted to believe him. You had to. It was easier that way. You understood that his heart was still tethered to the past, to the memory of Mary, and what you shared could only ever be physical. Yet, despite the rationalisations, the moments you spent together ignited a fire within you, leaving you both breathless and craving more.

You wrestled with that notion, knowing deep down that it was true. It was just a carnal pleasure for him—an escape from the suffocating weight of his past and the present responsibilities of being a father. And yet, you found it hard to convince yourself that it didn’t mean anything to you, too. Every time he wrapped his arms around you, his touch igniting a fire within you, it felt more profound than mere physicality. You longed for it to be something real, but reality kept slapping you in the face, reminding you that this was just a distraction for him.

You were drawn to him, and every shared breath and fleeting glance ignited a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to let you in. But with every whispered promise exchanged in the dim light of the hotel room, the reality of the situation settled over you like a heavy cloak, reminding you of the limits you—and then James had set, the walls he had built to protect himself. 

It was one of those evenings. The hotel room was nicer than usual, you noticed, dimly lit by a warm, ambient glow that softened the edges of the night. You were lying on the bed in your underwear, your body sprawled across the sheets in anticipation. The room felt empty, save for the heavy silence that hung between the moments. You could hear your own heartbeat in the quiet, and the soft rustle of the door as it clicked shut announced James' arrival.

He still wore his jacket, but it looked like a burden, one he was quick to shed as he stepped into the room. The jacket fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and for a moment, he stood there, unmoving. His expression was clouded, a mixture of exhaustion and something far deeper that you’d come to recognize over these past weeks. James was multi-faceted, a puzzle of emotions that never fully aligned. Most of the time, he wore sadness like a second skin, carrying it with him like a cloak he could never quite shake off. But sometimes, beneath that sadness, there was anger—deep, raw, and bitter—or even hate. It was rare to see him happy, truly happy. The version of James that laughed or smiled felt like a ghost of who he used to be. 

Tonight, though, he looked utterly tired, the kind of weariness that dug into his bones and weighed him down. He sat at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his eyes distant. His hand found your leg almost instinctively, caressing your skin absentmindedly, as if searching for something—comfort, maybe. But you weren’t sure he could ever really find it.

You shifted slightly under his touch, the feeling of his fingers against your leg sending a small shiver up your spine. You glanced at him, watching his profile as he sat there, lost in his own thoughts. His hand traced slow, idle patterns against your skin, but his gaze was far away, his mind somewhere else.

"Long day?" you asked softly, your voice barely breaking the silence. 

James didn’t answer right away. His fingers paused for a moment, then resumed their gentle motion. You could tell he was carrying the weight of something, but it wasn’t your place to ask—at least not anymore. Not in this arrangement, where your time together had become a strange kind of ritual, bound by unsaid rules.

He finally exhaled, a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of him. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough. "Long day."

You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of solace, but you knew better by now. James was a man trapped inside his own pain, his own regret, and as much as you wanted to break through that barrier, you also knew he would push you away if you tried. So instead, you let him sit there, his hand on your leg, and you stayed quiet, letting the silence speak for itself.

His hand lingered, caressing your skin with a kind of absent tenderness that always seemed at odds with the darkness in his eyes. This was the James you had come to know—someone who needed, who sought out comfort in the most fleeting ways, but who could never fully let himself feel it. Someone who wanted but would never allow himself to have.

James shifted beside you, his movements tense and restless, until he finally laid down against you, pressing his body close, almost too close, as if afraid you’d slip away. His head found its way to your chest, clutching at you, not with tenderness but with something more desperate—like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. The moment felt heavy, loaded with all the things he wasn’t saying but you could feel the tightness of his grip, in the ragged way he sighed.

You threaded your fingers through his ash-blonde hair, trying to soothe the tension in his body, but even your touch didn’t seem to be enough tonight. He was different—more on edge, more fragile, and the air between you was thick with unspoken need. James pressed his face deeper against your breasts, his breath hot against your skin, and you could feel how hard he was holding back, how much he was crumbling inside.

“I have nightmares,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost broken. It wasn’t just tiredness. There was something deeper in his tone—desperation, like he was running out of time, out of hope. “I don’t sleep well. Not anymore.”

You frowned, your heart aching for him. You knew he didn’t sleep well, but hearing him admit it, the way his voice trembled, made it real in a way it hadn’t been before. “What kind of nightmares?” you asked, though part of you wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

James stayed silent, but his grip on you tightened, his fingers curling against your skin like he was holding on for dear life. He didn’t want to tell you, couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he buried his face against you, his body trembling. “It’s bad,” he finally muttered, voice shaking. “Some days it’s worse than others. Today’s one of those days.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. He was coming apart, breaking down, and you weren’t sure how to fix it. “James…” you whispered, but he didn’t let you finish, and he groaned in protest, his head over your breasts. His pain was palpable, suffocating, and you could feel the anguish in every breath he took. 

After another moment of heavy silence, James shifted slightly, his body tense as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. It was so rare for him to talk, especially about anything that truly mattered, and when his voice finally broke through the quiet, it startled you.

After another stretch of silence, James shifted again against you, but this time, instead of falling deeper into that quiet, his voice emerged, fragile yet determined. "Mary," he whispered, the name hanging heavy in the air between you. It surprised you—he hadn’t spoken about her since the time you saw her picture at his home, and you had assumed he never would. "I… I felt so guilty. When she got sick, all I could think about was how much I missed her—her warmth, just holding her like this." His grip on you tightened, fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to ground himself through the contact. "But I couldn’t."

His words came out slowly, as if it pained him to say them aloud, but he couldn’t stop now that he had started. You stayed quiet, your hand still in his hair, listening as he unravelled.

"It wasn’t just the sickness, though," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if confessing a sin he had long kept buried. "Even when she wasn’t sick, it wasn’t... right. Our intimacy." His lips twisted in discomfort, and you could feel him tense against you. "There were things I wanted to do, things I thought we’d share, but she didn’t want any of it. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, I don’t know." He sighed heavily, the sound filled with frustration and sadness. "We’d end up arguing—these cold, distant fights that never solved anything. And then we’d—" He cut himself off, swallowing hard.

"And then we’d have sex, just to stop the fighting," he finally finished, his voice flat, emotionless, like the memory was draining him. "But it was always… it felt so conventional. Like it was just something we were supposed to do, not something we wanted. Not something she wanted, as if I was pressuring her to do it."

James shifted again, burying his face in your chest, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. His hand still clutched you tightly, as if afraid to let go. The pain in his voice was clear, the regret, the guilt, the yearning for something that had always been just out of reach. "I loved her, but… I needed more." His confession was quiet, almost lost in the space between you. "I needed this. I needed what we never had."

It felt like a deep wound had been reopened, and you could feel the rawness of it in every word he spoke. He had been carrying this pain for so long, locked away inside, and now, lying here in your arms, he was letting it spill out. His guilt, his longing, his shame. And even though he didn’t say it, you understood—he wasn’t just missing Mary, he was missing the connection he never had with her. Something deeper, something he was still searching for.

Maybe even in you.

James stayed close to you, his face still pressed against your cleavage, his breathing uneven as the weight of his words hung in the air. You could feel his vulnerability, a kind of desperation that rarely surfaced, like a dam had broken, and he couldn’t stop the flood of his emotions. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say, unsure of how to respond to something so deeply personal. But you knew he needed you, your presence, your understanding.

You gently stroked his hair, giving him time to collect himself. After a long pause, you whispered, “It sounds like you were always left wanting something more.”

James’ grip tightened on you, his fingers digging slightly into your side, as if the truth in your words pained him. He nodded against your chest, a faint, tortured sound escaping him.

“I don’t know why,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, heavy with frustration. “Maybe I was too selfish. Maybe I wanted too much. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t talk to her about it. I didn’t want to hurt her more than she already was.” His voice cracked, as if the weight of that guilt threatened to crush him. “But I was lonely. So damn lonely. And when we… when we were together, it felt like she was just… enduring it. Like I wasn’t allowed to want more from her, to even ask.”

He pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart ache. “I needed things I couldn’t ask her for. Things I couldn’t even bring myself to admit.” His lips trembled, his expression torn between shame and an unspoken longing. “And she’d just… shut down. It made me feel like I was a monster for wanting anything.” You listened quietly, sensing the pain in his voice but also the deep frustration that had been buried for so long. It was as though he had locked away all these feelings, all these desires, believing he was wrong for even having them. But now, with you, he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“It wasn’t just about sex,” he continued, his voice rough. “It was about needing to feel connected, to feel wanted. I loved her, but… She never made me feel like I mattered that way.”

Your hand rested gently on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly across his skin. “You’re not a monster, James,” you said softly, your voice full of reassurance. “You just… wanted to be seen. To be close to someone.”

He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for affection. His breathing hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, like he was fighting to hold himself together. 

“But I never got that,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “With Mary, it was always… proper. Reserved. And after a while, I stopped trying. It just… wasn’t worth the fights anymore. We would go days without touching, without even saying much to each other. I’d come home, and she’d just be there, like a ghost, and I’d miss her… even though she was right in front of me.”

He let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a sob. “God, I was such an idiot. I thought things would change, that one day she’d wake up and… see me.”

“I’m sorry, James,” you whispered, your voice thick with empathy. 

He opened his eyes, tears glistening at the corners as he looked at you. “But what if… what if I am just selfish?” he asked, his voice shaking. “What if I always needed too much? Too much from her… too much from you.”

You shook your head softly, your hand cupping his face as you met his gaze. “No,” you said firmly, your tone gentle but resolute. “You didn’t ask for too much. You just asked to be seen, to be loved. That’s not selfish, James. That’s human.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cover yours, his thumb tracing the lines of your palm. “But I’ve already messed things up,” he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “With you… I’ve taken so much from you, and I… I don’t even know if I can give you anything back.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the rawness in his confession. He was scared—scared of hurting you, scared of repeating the mistakes of the past. But he was also scared of letting you in, of giving himself to you in a way he had never been able to with Mary.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you said softly, your voice steady. “I’m here because I want to be, James. Not because I expect anything in return.”

His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of longing and fear, and you could see the war raging inside him. He wanted to believe you, but he had been hurt so deeply before, left feeling empty and undeserving.

“I just… I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you like I hurt her.”

You leaned in, your forehead resting gently against his. “You’re not going to hurt me,” you whispered back, your breath warm against his skin. “I’m not Mary, James. I’m different.”

For a moment, he was silent, his eyes closing as he absorbed your words. And then, slowly, his grip on you tightened, his hand moving to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. His lips brushed against yours, tentative and unsure, but the need in his touch was undeniable. He was searching for something—comfort, release, maybe even redemption. And for the first time, you felt like he was truly letting you in.

You held his gaze, your hand still resting on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. James’ eyes, so full of pain and guilt, flickered with uncertainty as you spoke softly, trying to ease the weight he carried.

“James,” you began gently, “sometimes two people can love each other so much that it ends up hurting them. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong, and it doesn’t mean Mary was at fault either. It’s just… sometimes things fall apart, and it’s not about who’s to blame.”

James’ brow furrowed, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. 

“It was a bad time,” you continued, your voice low but filled with compassion. “You both went through so much, and there wasn’t a way to fix it. Sometimes… love just isn’t enough to heal everything.”

James’ eyes closed, his breath trembling as he let your words wash over him. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed beneath your hand as if he were battling with the acceptance of what you were saying. “It doesn’t make you a bad person,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently across his cheekbone. “It doesn’t mean you failed her. You did the best you could with what you had.”

James’ grip tightened on you for a brief moment, and then he let out a deep, shaky breath, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of your words was too much to bear. His forehead pressed against yours again, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “I just… I keep thinking, maybe if I’d done something differently,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe if I’d been better, or tried harder—”

You silenced him with a gentle shake of your head, your fingers moving through his hair. “No, James. Don’t do that to yourself. You loved her, and she loved you, but sometimes that love isn’t enough to stop the hurt. It doesn’t make either of you bad people. It just… happened.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, the quiet stretching between you as he absorbed the truth of what you said. His hand slipped to rest on your waist, and you could feel him relax slightly, as if the burden on his shoulders had lightened, even just a little. “I don’t know how to let go of it,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion. 

Your heart ached for him, for the weight of guilt and grief he carried every day. But you knew he couldn’t keep punishing himself forever. He deserved to find peace, to let himself heal, even if it took time. “You don’t have to let go of it all at once,” you whispered, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, holding him close. “Just take it one day at a time. You’re allowed to feel everything you feel, but you’re also allowed to move forward. You deserve that, James.”

He stayed still for a long moment, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath coming out in soft, ragged sighs. And then, slowly, he nodded, the faintest hint of acceptance in his touch as he held you close. “I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know how to not feel guilty.”

“You don’t have to know right now,” you reassured him, your fingers gently stroking the back of his neck. “Just know that I’m here. You don’t have to carry it all alone anymore.”

His grip tightened on you, and for the first time, you felt him truly lean into your touch—not out of desperation, but out of a need for comfort. It wasn’t about running away from the pain anymore; it was about finding a way to live with it, and maybe, just maybe, to start healing.

You held James close, his head resting against your chest as you softly stroked his hair. His body felt heavy against yours, weighed down by all the unspoken emotions, the guilt, and the unresolved pain. In the silence, a thought crossed your mind—one that had been lingering in the background of your conversations. “What is it, James?” you asked gently, your voice a soft whisper in the dim light of the hotel room. “What did you always want to do… but never could?”

He was still for a moment, as if processing your question, caught off guard by the depth of it. His fingers lightly gripped your waist, and you could feel the tension building in him again, as if the memories were flooding back too quickly. His breath hitched slightly, and you knew you had touched on something buried deep.

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His head shifted slightly against your chest, and he didn’t meet your gaze, almost shyly. “I don’t know if I can talk about it.” 

You continued to gently run your fingers through his hair, reassuring him with your presence. “It’s okay, James. You can tell me.

You could see the conflicting emotions playing across James' face - the fear of revealing too much warring with the desperate need for release, for absolution. His breath came faster, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrestled with himself. "I've always..." he began, his voice hoarse. "I've always wanted to dominate. To take control. But I never knew how. I was always too afraid."

He lifted his head to look at you then, his eyes dark and intense. "I want to be the one in charge, Y/n. I want to own your pleasure, make you beg for me. Like… more intense?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill of excitement mingling with the tenderness in your chest. 

"Show me," you whispered, your hands framing his face. "Show me how to be yours."

Something shifted in James' expression, a flicker of relief and determination. He surged forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that stole your breath. His hands roamed your body, claiming every inch of you.

"You're mine," he growled against your lips. "All mine. And I'm going to make you feel so good, baby girl. Gonna take such good care of you." He nipped at your jaw, your throat, marking you as his. His touch was firm, commanding, stoking the heat between your legs. You arched into him, surrendering completely.

James' hands roamed your body with a newfound confidence, squeezing and caressing every curve. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your panties, teasing along the sensitive skin. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he groaned, feeling the dampness. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and yanked, ripping your panties off with one swift motion. The cool air hit your heated flesh and you shivered. James threw the tattered lace aside, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of your glistening pussy.

"You like that, baby? Like me taking control?" He reached out and ran a single finger along your slit, collecting the slick on his fingertip. He brought it to your mouth, painting your lips with your own arousal. "Taste how fucking wet you are," he commanded. James pushed you back on the bed, looming over you. 

His clothes were still on but you could see the huge bulge straining against his zipper. He ground his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he was. "Gonna worship this pretty little pussy," he promised, voice low and rough with desire. "Gonna lick up every drop, make you scream for me."

He pushed your thighs apart, settling between them. His hot breath ghosted over your sensitive flesh as he inhaled deeply. "Christ, you smell amazing," James groaned. "Can't wait to taste it."

He dragged the flat of his tongue up your slit in one long, slow lick. Your back arched off the bed, a gasp escaping your lips. James growled at the response, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure through you.

He sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. Two fingers pushed inside you, pumping in and out as he ate you out like a starving man. Obscene slurping sounds filled the room, mingling with your unabashed moans.

As James buried his face between your thighs, your moans echoed off the hotel room walls. His stubble-covered cheeks brushed against your sensitive inner thighs, the delicious friction sending electric shivers up your spine. You could feel his nose nestled against your pussy, his hot breath teasing your already drenched folds. "Oh god," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair. "James, please..."

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "Please what, baby?" he purred, dragging his tongue along his bottom lip. "Use your words."

Your gaze locked with his, hazy with need. "I need you," you breathed, writhing beneath his intense stare. "Please, James... I want to feel you."

A wicked grin spread across his face. "That's not what I asked, sweetheart. Try again."

His words sent a bolt of heat straight to your core. In that moment, you realised exactly what he wanted to hear, what he needed to know. Craning your neck, you cried out, "Please, Daddy! I need you!"

The words seemed to ignite something primal in James. With a possessive growl, he surged forward, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, dominating every inch. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so tightly you knew you'd be marked tomorrow.

James broke the kiss with a gasp, panting harshly against your cheek. "That's right, baby girl. Call me Daddy," he rasped, voice dripping with dark promise. "This needy little cunt belongs to me."

To emphasise his point, he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked hard, making you arch off the bed with a strangled moan. He lashed the sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, wringing desperate cries from your throat.

"Daddy, please!" you sobbed, fisting your hands in the sheets. "It's too much, I can't..."

James only redoubled his efforts, two fingers plunging into your soaked heat. He pumped them in and out, curling against your inner walls. The mix of pain and pleasure was exquisite, overwhelming. Your thighs trembled around his head, your toes curling into the mattress.

"So good," you panted, head thrashing on the pillow. "Fuck, James, your mouth feels amazing."

When his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles, it finally tipped you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and whiting out your vision. James worked you through it, drawing out every last aftershock until you collapsed bonelessly against the bed.

Pulling back, James wiped his slick mouth with the back of his hand, looking immensely pleased with himself. His hair was tousled from your desperate grip, his lips swollen from your kisses. "Goddamn," he breathed, drinking in the sight of you. "You're so fucking gorgeous when you let go like that. My perfect girl."

He crawled up your body, hovering over you. You could feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing insistently against your hip, hot even through his jeans. James captured your lips in another searing kiss, devouring you, consuming you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, musky and heady. "Suck me," he commanded, voice low and authoritative. "Get that pretty mouth on Daddy's dick and show me what a good girl you are." He asked, taking off his tie and shirt.

Your heart raced at the new dynamic between you, this confident, dominant side of James awakening a primal hunger in your core. You sat up and reached for his belt, eager to obey his orders.

You gripped the base of James' cock, angling it towards your eager mouth. You dragged your tongue along the underside, tracing the prominent vein from root to tip. Reaching the weeping slit, you swirled your tongue around it, lapping up the salty-sweet precum that beaded there. "Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your words making James' cock twitch against your lips.

You wrapped your lips around the head, suckling gently as you savoured his flavour. Inch by inch, you worked your way down his shaft, relaxing your throat to take him deeper. James groaned above you, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. "Fuck,  just like that," he praised, guiding your head to bob along his length. 

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, determined to give James as much pleasure as he'd given you. You let him guide your movements, surrendering control as you focused on pleasuring your Daddy with your mouth. Above you, James' abs flexed and his breath came in short, sharp pants. His grip on your hair tightened and his thighs tensed, signalling his impending release. You doubled your efforts, desperate to taste him.

With a low, guttural groan, James came undone. His cock pulsed against your tongue as he spilled his seed down your throat. You swallowed every drop, relishing the intimate connection. As James softened, you released him from your mouth with a final, loving kiss to the tip. 

James pulled you close, peppering your face with tender kisses. "That was incredible, baby girl," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "I've never felt anything like that before." You snuggled into his embrace, giggling, happy to see him enjoying himself.

“But we aren’t done, yet,” And James rolled you onto your hands and knees, positioning your ass in the air. The new angle made you feel exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly aroused. You could feel his eyes raking over your body, drinking in the sight of you laid out before him like a feast. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this," James growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "All ready for me."

He delivered a sharp smack to your right cheek, making you yelp in surprise. The stinging sensation quickly melted into a throbbing heat that spread through your core. James soothed the abused flesh with his palm, kneading the plump globes of your ass. "Count them, baby girl," he commanded, punctuating his words with another smack to your left cheek. "Let Daddy hear how good his little girl is taking her punishment."

"One," you gasped out, your voice hitching as James continued his sensual assault on your backside. Each stinging slap was followed by a moment of intense pressure, the heat building within you until it exploded into pure, molten need. By the time James reached ten, your ass was flushed a deep pink and you were panting with need. 

You shifted your position, moving to straddle James' hips. His semi-hard cock nestled against your slick folds, already stirring back to life. You ground slowly against him, coating his length in your arousal. Above you, James groaned, hands coming up to grip your waist.

"Already so wet for me again," he praised, voice low and rough with renewed lust. 

“Of course James,” You rolled your hips, sliding your slick heat along his hardening shaft. The head caught on your entrance with each pass, teasing you both with the promise of what was to come. James' fingers dug into your skin, his control fraying at the edges.

Unable to hold back any longer, you reached down to guide him inside. With a single, smooth thrust, James sheathed himself fully within your welcoming heat. You both cried out at the exquisite sensation, bodies trembling with the force of your connection.

"So fucking perfect," James panted, fighting the urge to rut into you wildly. "Gonna make this last, baby girl. Gonna worship this sweet little pussy." He set a deep, steady rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before sliding home again. Each drag of his cock along your sensitive walls stoked the flames of your desire higher. Your nails raked down the sweat-slicked skin of his back as you matched his pace, meeting him thrust for delicious thrust.

You cried out at the sudden stretch, walls fluttering around his thick girth as he filled you completely. James stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sent sparks of pleasure racing up your spine.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," James groaned, picking up the pace. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he drove into you with increasing force. "So tight, baby. Like you were made just for me."

The wet sounds of your joining filled the room, punctuated by your shared moans and gasps. James' hands roamed your body, mapping every dip and curve as if committing you to memory. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, tongues tangling as he consumed you thoroughly. "My beautiful Y/n," he rasped against your mouth, the intimacy of your name on his lips making your heart race. 

His words, coupled with the relentless pleasure building in your core, pushed you closer to the edge. Your inner muscles fluttered around James' pistoning cock, signalling your impending climax. He reached between you to circle your swollen clit, the added stimulation sending you flying.

You rolled onto your stomach, presenting yourself to James. He gripped your hips, pulling you back against his hardness. With one swift thrust, he buried himself inside your slick heat, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," James groaned, setting a relentless pace as he began to move again.

He pounded into you from behind, the lewd slap of skin against skin filling the room. Each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your trembling body. James' hands roamed your curves possessively, squeezing and kneading your flesh as he claimed you again and again.

"Harder, James,," you begged, arching your back to take him even deeper. "I want to feel you in the morning."

James growled, slamming into you with renewed vigour. He hooked one arm under you, forcing you up onto your knees as he railed you with abandon. The new angle allowed him to hit spots you didn't even know existed, driving you wild with lust. For hours, James took his pleasure from your willing body. You let him explore every position imaginable, determined to bring you to the brink of madness with ecstasy. You lost count of the number of times he came inside you, his hot seed painting your walls and filling your womb.

Through it all, James remained insatiable, his stamina and appetite for you seemingly endless. He worshipped every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue, marking you as his own. By the time he was finally spent, you were a quivering, sweat-slicked mess, utterly satisfied in a way you'd never known before.

As James pulled you into his arms, both of you basked in the afterglow. The shy, reserved man you once knew was gone, replaced by a confident, dominant lover who reveled in bringing you pleasure. And though the future was uncertain, you knew that you would gladly surrender yourself to James desires again and again.

You snuggled closer to James, marveling at the newfound intimacy between you. His strong arms encircled you, holding you tight against his firm chest. The warmth of his skin seeped into your own, "Tonight was incredible," you murmured, tracing idle patterns on James' chest with your fingertips. "I've never seen you let go like that before, so free and uninhibited."

James' eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze. There was a vulnerability there that made your heart ache. "I've always wanted this," he confessed softly. "To lose myself in you completely, to worship every inch of your beautiful body until you screamed my name. But I was afraid, afraid of my own desires and what they might do to us."

You pressed a tender kiss to his jaw, understanding the depth of his confession. "Don't be afraid anymore, James. This is us, this is what we're meant to be. Just like this, skin on skin, hearts entwined."

James pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You poured all of your love and acceptance into it, hoping to chase away the last remnants of his fear. When he finally pulled back, there was a peace in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Smiling, you rested your head against James’ chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. It was a comforting rhythm, one that made you feel safe, despite the complicated nature of what you shared. His arm was draped over you, holding you close, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. The room was filled with a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing mingling together.

You closed your eyes, savouring the moment, knowing that these quiet, intimate nights were rare—fleeting even. Yet, you couldn’t help but cling to the hope that this, whatever it was between you and James, meant something more than just a temporary escape. The thought lingered in your mind, bittersweet, as you traced your fingers absentmindedly along the contours of his chest.

James shifted slightly beneath you, his fingers brushing against your back in slow, absentminded circles. There was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, different from the desperate, carnal need that had driven him earlier. It was softer, more vulnerable—like he was allowing himself to truly feel, even if just for a moment.

“I don’t know what this means for us,” he murmured after a long silence, his voice low and rough from exhaustion. “But… I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose you.”

You lifted your head to meet his gaze, your heart squeezing at the raw honesty in his eyes. For a man who had spent so long hiding behind his grief, his guilt, and his fear, these words felt like a fragile offering. You could see the uncertainty in him, the way he was torn between wanting to keep you close and fearing that he didn’t deserve to.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered, brushing a lock of his hair away from his forehead. “I’m here, James. I’m not going anywhere.”

He closed his eyes at your words, a sigh of relief escaping him as he pulled you even closer. His hold on you tightened, like he was grounding himself in your presence, in the warmth of your body pressed against his.

For a long while, you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, as the weight of the night’s emotions slowly settled. There were still so many unanswered questions, so many unresolved feelings, but for now, in this moment, it felt like enough. You could feel James’ breathing slow, his body relaxing as exhaustion took hold, and you knew he was finally allowing himself to rest. 

As you lay there, nestled in the warmth of James’ embrace, the words slipped out almost without thought, carried by the tenderness of the moment. "Could you stay here tonight?" you asked quietly, shyly. It felt natural—right even. The way his body fit against yours, the way his breathing synced with your own. For the first time, it didn’t feel rushed, like the encounters that had come before. Tonight, it felt… different. Deeper.

But the moment the question left your lips, you felt him stiffen beneath you. His once relaxed body tensed, his hand that had been resting so peacefully on your back froze, and you could feel the subtle shift in his breathing—faster, more shallow. The warmth you had just been enveloped in seemed to evaporate all at once, leaving a chill in its place.

"James?" you whispered, lifting your head to look at him. His eyes were wide, almost panicked, darting around the room as if he were suddenly trapped. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His gaze met yours for a fleeting second before he tore it away, staring up at the ceiling instead, his jaw clenched.

"I… I can’t," he finally breathed out, his voice tight and strained. 

"Why not?" you asked softly, a sinking feeling forming in your chest. Tonight had been so right, so good. Why was he pulling away now? You reached for him, but he gently pushed your hand away, his movements almost frantic.

"I can't stay," he repeated, sitting up abruptly and pulling himself from your embrace. His back was to you now, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled as they reached for his discarded clothes. "I shouldn’t even be here."

"But James," you began, your voice catching with the sudden wave of confusion and hurt. "It’s different tonight, right? It felt right."

He shook his head, pulling his shirt over his head, still refusing to look at you. "It can’t be more than what it is," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "This was a mistake."

Your heart plummeted at his words, the air in the room growing thick with the weight of them. "A mistake?" you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. "You don’t mean that."

But James didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up, buttoning his pants with shaky hands, his back still turned to you. It was like watching him retreat into himself, putting walls back up that you thought had come down, if only for a night. "Please, don’t make this harder," he finally said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can’t… I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you."

Your chest tightened, and the weight of his words pressed down on you, heavy and unrelenting. You wanted to reach out, to pull him back, but something in his posture told you that any more pressure would push him further away.

“Why does it always have to be like this?” you whispered, the ache in your voice undeniable.

But James didn’t answer. He pulled on his jacket, his back turned to you as he tried to collect himself. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the struggle in his silence. It wasn’t just fear—it was torment. The closer he got to you, the more it hurt him.

You wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong—that this wasn’t just about deserving, that it was about the connection you shared, the way he opened up to you tonight. But as you sat there, staring at his back, you realised that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change the deep-rooted guilt and fear that had consumed him. It was too much for him to handle, and the reality of that hit you like a punch to the gut.

"James, wait… what happened tonight—it's okay," you tried, your voice soft, reassuring. You wanted to tell him how much you had enjoyed it, that it was more than just meaningless, that it meant something to you. But before you could get the words out, he cut you off sharply, his voice hard and cold in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“No,” he snapped, turning to face you with a desperate, almost frantic look in his eyes. “What happened tonight… it’s not me. I’m not a man like that. I shouldn’t have—" His voice wavered, but the panic in his tone was unmistakable. “You need to forget about this. Forget it ever happened.”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving a hollow ache in your chest as you sat there, clutching the sheet to your body. You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him how much it mattered, how much he mattered. But before you could speak, James’ next words sent a shockwave through you.

“You better take your pills tomorrow,” he said, his voice cold and matter-of-fact. “Make sure you’re not pregnant. I don’t want to be responsible for anything that comes out of this.” His words were biting, harsh. “I can’t—I won’t support anything related to tonight.”

The bluntness of it stunned you into silence. His words felt like a door slamming shut between you, a reminder of just how temporary this had always been for him. You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, the reality of his detachment settling in like a heavy weight in your chest. You wanted to say something, anything, to make him see that what you’d shared tonight wasn’t something to just brush off.

But it was like he was already gone, emotionally cut off from you.

“And don’t… don’t think this changes anything,” James continued, his voice rough with guilt and something else—self-loathing, maybe. “I still love Mary. I’ll always love her. This,” he gestured between the two of you, his face hardening, “you’re nothing like her. You’ll never be close to what she was to me.”

His words pierced through you, each one like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. He was distancing himself from you, pushing you away, making sure you understood that what happened tonight wasn’t about you—it wasn’t about love, or even connection. You were just a temporary distraction, a way for him to feel something, anything, other than the constant grief and guilt that plagued him.

As he grabbed his jacket and made his way to the door, he finally turned to look at you, his eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. And before you could respond, he was gone, leaving you alone in the quiet, empty room.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you lay back on the bed, staring at the empty space beside you where he had been just moments ago. The warmth of his touch, his embrace—it all felt like a cruel illusion now, a fleeting moment of connection that had evaporated into nothing.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening. The warmth of his body, his touch, his voice—it was all gone, leaving you with nothing but the cold reminder that, no matter how close you got to James, he would always pull away in the end.

And despite everything, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe… this was all you’d ever get.

“Of course you’re sorry,” you whispered, crying yourself to sleep.

[kira-fluff]

no feelings, just lust - wakasa imaushi x fem!reader

what happens when FWB -> feelings? tw: language, casual sex (obviously), trust issues/mental health issues a/n: hello! you all know the drill, i've been busy with all uni. i've been wanting to write again and i finally had some free time tonight. am i once again venting my own psychological issues in the form of writing? yes. but honestly lets be so fr for a second i feel like some of my other girlies relate to this shit. idk, lmk. i hope i'm not the only one. (i'm scared of men)

wakasa didn't "do" relationships. too much work. too much shit he's got on his plate already. and hey, a girl deserves more in a serious relationship then a guy who doesn't give a shit, right? there are plenty of fuckers who treat their girls like trash just because they want the attention but not the commitment. in all honesty, wakasa didn't do friendships either. it's easier in his line of work to keep everyone at a distance. helps it hurt less when they leave - when they die, or shit, they betray you. but through shinichiro, he met you.

turns out, you weren't really all that into relationships either. it was funny that both of your lack of commitment stemmed from trust issues, but that wasn't something you both exactly said out loud. for you, it was easier not to get hurt or rejected if you never gave someone the chance to get close. so, you would play nice, act the part of a friendship, smile, placate, but at the end of the day, no one was really your friend. they were part of an act you played in your head. you assumed various roles, went through your script, amused your audience. and for what? so people can like you? at this point, you weren't even sure. this, of course, didn't even begin to touch on your commitment issues caused by your struggles in your own identity. you don't know what the fuck you want in a relationship, so whenever shit got serious, you cut it off. you decided relationships weren't your thing because guys didn't deserve to have their feelings played with by someone who approaches them half-heartedly.

when you met wakasa, it was perfect. neither of you wanted anything beyond just casual sex. no commitment. you don't care who else the other is fucking, so long as your clean. you can quit whenever you want. no strings attached and with it, no feelings. there were no expectations. you were free to do what you want, and if it wasn't what you wanted anymore, you could call it off without hurting anyone. you just happen to be satisfying each other's needs. it's both selfish, but in a way, also a symbotic give-and-take. if it is mutually beneficial, is it really all that selfish? maybe you shouldn't be giving as much thought to the semantics, but your proclivity for overthinking is part of the reason your real relationships are a clusterfuck.

shinichiro introduced you at the club, where you were languidly sipping on a cocktail. "this is y/n, she's chill. comes out to hang with us sometimes." "yeah, when i got shit else to do," you laughed. your gaze met his purple eyes as you blinked slowly. the smell of weed permeated throughout the club, adding a slight fog to the already densely populated club. "wakasa." he said, and that was it. no "nice to meet you" or any of that other shit. yeah, he wasn't up for the play acting either. good. as he ordered a drink, you took another sip, searching the club for anything amusing to pass the time. blaring music, sweaty bodies, lustful and uninvited hands...yeah, it wasn't really your scene. but you were bored, and honestly a little lonely. with that combination, you hit up shinichiro asking if he and his gang were doing anything this weekend. they always are. how do they not get exhausted just being around all these people? it's a task already just spouting off conversation with these braindead fuckers.

wakasa took a seat next to you, surveying the club just as you were. after taking another sip of his scotch, he said, "this shit gets old pretty fast." you smirked. "can't say i disagree." wakasa licked his lips, taking a long look at your figure. "you doin' anything tonight? 'sides sitting here bored as fuck." you turned your eyes to him once more. "what did you have in mind?"

-

wakasa slammed you against the door to your apartment, kissing you urgently as you attempted slipped off your shoes while just a little bit wasted. you weren't wasted enough to see this guy was fucking hot. and as he rubbed up against you, you realized he had plenty to offer. "so fuckin' hot," he sighed as he kissed you, "i wanna be inside you." you groaned as he licked your lip, then plunged his tongue into your mouth. there, you two melded into a rhythm of twisting tongues, sighing, moaning, drawing back for a breath, and then repeating it all over again. of course, this only lasted so long before wakasa grabbed your ass, lifting you up and carrying you to your bedroom and tossing you onto your bed. as he unbuckled his pants, you make quick work of removing your tight-fitting dress. at last, you basked in each other's well-endowed features. as you looked at him, his purple eyes were nearly pitch black with desire. he wants you. and you can have him. like letting go of a rope, wakasa met your body and slid his cock in between your wet folds. his pace was a steady rhythm as he gazed at you, analyzing what make you feel good. "mmm... harder..." you sighed, to which he quickly responded with more aggressive thrusts, causing the bed to whine as he pounded into you. "yes, oh my god, yes," you sighed. he sucked air through his teeth. "fuck, you're so tight. feels so fuckin' good." as his hips rocked into yours, you couldn't take your eyes off him. your fingers found the nape of his neck, where you pulled at the purple and blond strands, eliciting a groan from him. suddenly he stopped. "fuck, not gonna cum yet. wanna make you feel even better." he pushed your body futher up the bed, then spread your thighs until they touched either side of you. slowly, he leaned his head down toward your pussy, his eyes on you. then, he licked a stripe up, teasingly. you couldn't hold back your whimper. a corner of his mouth turned up as he sucked on your clit, then once again licked up your slick, swirling his tongue around your entrance. you felt your pussy getting wetter as he continued to taste you. "tastes so good. lemme see you cum, baby girl." he moves his fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out of your pussy at such a rapid pace you began moaning. along with it, he removed his tongue, licking what was left on his mouth, and moved his other fingers to rub against your clit, making slow circles. your breathing became shallow, just gasps of air. your mind went completely blank, only able to focus on the sensations he brought with only his hands. and fuck, those hads were like magic. slowly, slowly, the pleasure built up inside of you until you let out a moan, shaking as you orgasmed. as you sighed, calming your rapid breathing, he eyed you up and down. "you don't think we're done, do you? we're just gettin' started." he said, curling his lips in amusement. you huffed out a laugh, "of course, we wouldn't want you leaving without your dick soaked." his mouth twisted downward, as if he was fighting against a smile. "alright then, make me cum."

-

you awoke to light stubbornly illuminating your room through the blinds. thank god you didn't have a hangover. you sighed in contentment. you felt so full. it had been awhile since you'd had sex that good. well, fuck, it was great. out of this world. mind-blowing. you lost count of how many hours you were at it, how many times you made each other cum. all you could remember was the sensation of wakasa inside of you and your mouth around his cock. and goddamn, the wonders he worked with that tongue. fuck, did you get his number? you glanced over to the other side of your bed. predictably, it was empty. well, at least he wasn't expecting some kind of morning pillow talk. better to just fuck and be done with it then sit there talking about your feelings. lamenting your oversight, you lazily walked toward your kitchen, thankful for your coffee maker preprogrammed to make you the good shit without you fucking around with the machine when your mind wasn't yet awake. after taking a few sips of your highly-caffienated, highly-sugar-filled coffee, you noticed a slip of paper on the counter. thanks for the fun night. if your up for it some time again, text me. xxx-xxx-xxxx - wakasa you smiled. at least one of you had your head on straight this morning.

pulling out your phone, you typed out "hey wakasa. it's y/n. definitely down for another night sometime." not two minutes after you sent your message, you heard your phone ding. "glad to hear. free sunday night. your place or mine?" "your place. wanna see if your place is as glorious as mine, with the shitty white paint over the holes in the wall from my landlord. ya know, the luxurious shit you get when you can just barely pay the bills." you replied. "sounds good. here's my address: xxxx xxxx xxxxxxx." you pouted. not a laugh? well, he's not really the "lol" type, you supposed. but why did you even care? maybe just because he doesn't have a good sense of humor - what a piece of moldy cheese. but the sex was good, so even if his personality is moldy cheese (just because he didn't think you were funny) you can put up with him. and did his personality even matter? you guys were just fucking. it's just sex. nothing more.

-

wakasa breathed out a laugh, looking at your text. the corner of his mouth quirked up despite himself, resulting in an eyebrow raise from his unwanted observer. "the fuck you smiling at?" shinichiro asked, grinning. "damn, get off my dick, shin. none of your business." "it's that girl you fucked last night, isn't it?" he said, moving his eyebrows up in down in the most obnoxious way. "well, yeah, we're gonna meet up and fuck again sometime. nothing serious. you're always so interested in making everything sound like some damn romance." wakasa rolled his eyes. shinichiro frowned, replying incredulously, "well, sor-ry for having a fuckin' dream! not all of us can fuck girls left and right." wakasa scoffed. "not my fault your bitchless." "i'm not 'bitchless', i just prefer a girl to like me for more than my cock." shinichiro defended. "it's really not that serious. if you go into it thinking it's gonna be this whole romantic and idealistic shit, it's not. yeah, they want you for your dick. but you want them for their pussy. it works out." it was shinichiro's turn to roll his eyes. "not everyone can just sleep around like it's no big deal. i want someone who likes me for more than just my amazing, gorgeous, sexy body." wakasa shook his head, "well good luck, because you don't even fit that bill either." shinichiro gasped, "shut the fuck up! i can dream, okay?!" with that, he stormed away. wakasa shook his head. shinichiro was always getting his heart broken. how did he not see that keeping things casual was better than wasting your time trying to win someone over for more than just sex? it wasn't worth the time.

-

for the next few weeks, something idiotic was developing in his mind. after those hours of fucking, wakasa found himself wanting to stay. he thought about coming over earlier so he could try your cooking that you bragged about but probably tasted like dog shit. he wanted to watch the stupid movie you were raving about when you stayed up late talking after a few rounds. he spent sleepless nights thinking about the time when you were drunk and told him that he was so sweet behind all his "bad boy" exterior (whatever she meant by that). more than a few times he awoke to dreams of fucking you senseless. but more concerning were the dreams in which you held his hand, gentely smiling at him as you walked toward a street food vendor. it was like, dating shit. he didn't do dates. so why the fuck was he dreaming about corny shit like some walk-around-town time with you? he briefly considering calling the whole thing off. just biting the bullet and texting you he just wasn't feeling it anymore. but then he'd hear his phone ding again, and it was a text asking if he was doing anything tonight. or fuck, sometimes it was just some "cursed image" (as you called it) that made him question your sanity. but also made him smile. like, what the fuck, wakasa? just block her. don't have anything to do with her. you don't need that investment in your life. it was goddamn embarassing how fast he'd grab his phone when he hard his phone ding - hoping it was from you. so he couldn't let go. the sex is too good, he reasoned with himself. he hasn't had this level of physical chemistry with anyone. so, he can't take the chance of hoping to find someone else.

-

as you sat cuddled against wakasa's side, watching the most iconic movie ever (that you forced him into sitting his ass down and watching), you realized something. you and wakasa were... friends. not fake friends were you had to play the part of whatever the fuck he wanted from you. like, genuine friends. you felt you could be - as lame as it sounds - yourself. after the movie ended, you looked up at him. for some reason, an image of him pushing back your hair to kiss your forehead flashed through your mind. but friends didn't do that shit. and neither did hookups. but eh, everyone gets like that sometimes, right?

-

"'m gonna order some food. what kinda rice do you want?" "just get me whatever you're having. don't feel like thinking right now." he laughed. "lazy ass." you grinned at your position on the couch, watching him as he leaned against the dining table. "says the guy who lives his entire life on 'minimal effort mode'." "it wasn't an insult." "damn. here i was thinking you were being a big meanie, but you're just a real sweetheart, aren't you?" he rolled his eyes. "shut up. 'm ordering a bunch of shit because i know you always want egg rolls." "this is true. i'm big back and proud." he shook his head, withholding a grin, much to your amusement.

it was such a stupid moment. he was just ordering food while chatting with you idly. but fuck. he has feelings for you. and not just "i wanna fuck you" feelings. the kinda mushy, lame shit shinichiro was always yappin' about. the kind of shit that made him think of the future rather than always looking toward the past. he wanted to be more than just a fuck-buddy. in some ways, he felt like you already were. but how the hell is he supposed to ask that? the whole "what are we?" sounds dumb. but exposing his true feelings sounded even more foolish. with that, he decided, it's better not to say anything. it'll go away anyway.

-

news flash, your feelings were not going away. and yeah, you knew at this point that things were changing. you looked at him not with soley physical attraction, but also a deep, emotional connection. you felt like you clicked on a whole different level than any of the other guys you'd attempted to date before. it's not like you could help it. wakasa... there was just something so magnetic about him. something inexplicable that drew you to him. that made it impossible to leave him on read. more than a few times you texted until the sun shone through your windows. and it wasn't sexting. it was talking about stupid shit, or sometimes even getting down to a little bit of some of those issues you've been pushing away because it's easier to ignore them than address them and work through all the mountain of garbage you've carried your entire life. you understood each other the way no one else did. falling in love with him - if you dared use that "L" word - seemed like it was set in stone. once you went beyond sex, it was like love was unavoidable. even when you tried to search for reasons to dislike him - any part of him that made you decide was too much of a red flag to have any sort of loss of feelings - you came up empty. sure, he's not perfect, but fuck if he isn't perfect for you. how could you burden him with your feelings? you already knew talking about it would ruin everything. both of you didn't do relationships. how stupid would it be to suggest one?

-

you both lay panting on either side of your mattress. unexpectedly, wakasa asked, "...are you..." he exerted another breath, "seeing... any other... guys?" your eyes widened in surprise. "...not currently... why?" you hated that a part of you desperately hoped that he was jealous. he glanced away from you. "ah, it's nothin'." you sat up on your elbows. "is it really nothing? waka, are you upset?" he shook his head fervently. "nah, no. it's really nothin'." you raised an eyebrow but conceded. "...well, okay. if you say so." wakasa's eyes found your own. and he stared into your eyes like he never had before. like he was studying them. memorizing every color, every outline, every speckle. his eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, then back again. "can i..." he licked his lips, "can i... kiss you?" you let out a small laugh. "you've never asked before." he looked down. "...nevermind." yet, you understood what he meant. asking.... it was different. it meant something. something deeper than just expressing lust and bodily desire. so, you leaned forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and pulled him in for a deep kiss. your mouths moved against each other, yet it was delecate. reverent. like both of you wanted to savor this moment forever, rather than pull apart for something as trivial as air. as you parted at last, after a quick breath, wakasa leaned in for a gentle kiss on your mouth. as he parted, his eyes found yours. and you could no longer deny that your hopes were not unfounded. "i love you, waka." he blinked slowly. "i love you, too."

a/n: rahhhh i think this might be one of my favorites. please share your thoughts!

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Reiner who uses his Titan Form to kidnap his beloved Reader (Like Beauty and the Beast) this can be before or after their revealed to be traitors to the Survey Corps

Reader has always been sweet, kind, gentle and much smaller and dainty compared to everyone else, especially to Reiner

Reader is female if that’s okay

I am such a Reiner fan it hurts.... I'm even more of a fan of Titan Shifters interacting with their obsession as their Titan.

Armored Beast

Yandere! Reiner Braun Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Violence, Murder, Delusional behavior, Blood, Manipulation, Forced relationship.

Reiner knew you were an entirely different creature than him, both literally and and metaphorically. You two aren't meant for each other. You're part of two different worlds...

Yet he still wants you all the same.

You're sweet, kind, gentle... like a sweet little lamb compared to him. You didn't look like you belonged among the cadets or the scouts. But, like many others, you were forced into the role.

No doubt due to his and Bertolt's doing.

Compared to you, Reiner's ruthless, intimidating, rough... a predator, a wolf. Despite such a nature he pretends to be like the rest of you. He pretends to be nice and friendly just like you...

A wolf in sheep wool.

Reiner didn't expect to fall in love with anyone when he came here. He had a mission he had to lead. All that mattered was breaking down the walls.

However, Reiner found himself drawn towards you. You were a cadet just like him, explaining your motives to join with such enthusiasm. You want to help people... you lost so much during the attack in Shiganshina.

You even asked him as cadets to help you train. You looked so determined to slay the beast who ruined your life. You lost so much to the Armored Titan...

You lost so much to him.

Reiner knew it was wrong to love you. You were an Eldian, a young woman trying to make a difference. You had no idea Reiner was the one who took everything from you.

He often scolds himself when he thinks of you fondly. You're a distraction. Plus, if he really loved you, he should leave you alone.

He shouldn't hurt you more than he already has.

Yet despite his attempts to ignore his feelings, you stuck by him. You were completely oblivious to his true nature... He should push you away. Instead... Reiner selfishly allows himself to be in your presence.

You always cared for him, you always clung to him. It never failed to make him feel heated. He enjoyed you so much he tried to delude himself to accept it.

Reiner desperately wanted to see himself as some armored knight for you. He wanted to be seen as your protector. When he was still a cadet and soon a scout... He enjoyed that role.

He loved to protect you... to ignore what he really was.

Unfortunately, Reiner couldn't ignore what he was forever. He's a Warrior, a Titan, a traitor.... He's an armored beast... not some knight.

He's a beast that's completely brought to his knees for one damn girl.

Reiner couldn't play your guardian forever. As much as he wanted to pretend to be yours... to pretend to be like you... He's too different. He isn't like you, won't ever be.

But like any beast... He's selfish.

It was only a matter of time before Reiner and Bertolt were found out. Annie was already caught and hidden away. Reiner knew he and Bertolt were on thin ice.

Once found out... Reiner had no choice but to fulfill the plan he and Bertolt were meant for...

It's been a long three years... it's time to go home.

The moment he was attacked by Mikasa after failing to recruit Eren, Reiner relied on instinct. For the most part he was focused on Eren. However... the eyes of the Armored Titan kept flicking around the battle as Eren tried to restrain him.

He wanted to know where you were...

He just hopes Bertolt didn't hurt you....

By the end of the fight full of punching and biting, Reiner was able to tear through the nape of Eren's Titan. The taste of blood stains his tongue as he does so, the blood immediately steaming upon contact with the air. Upon recovering and ripping Eren away from the steaming flesh, Reiner had one more target.

You.

Poor you attempted to take Eren from him, swinging around his Titan with your ODM gear. Reiner was already aware you were running out of gas and blades. Part of him still didn't want to hurt you...

He's denied himself long enough.

Due to the thick plating of his Titan, you weren't able to pierce his skin. Instead, Reiner tore the hooks you embedded out of his plating before swinging you in front of him. Reiner almost feels... amused when he sees the fear in your eyes as he holds you upside down.

Pity flickers deep within him before he cups you into his hand, shoving you against his chest in a temporary prison. Upon recovering Bertolt and Ymir, Reiner made a break for it. Now... Reiner shouldn't bother hiding himself from you.

He cares little for the amount of gore on his hands and feet. The other Scouts shouldn't matter to him. All he really cares about is you.

Scouts attempt to stop his attempt to flee, but he swats them away. If not, he crushes them to a messy red pulp. Their blood stains his skin... painting him as the monster he is.

It's not the first time he's killed. No, that was with Marco. He doesn't even feel all that bad about it now... that cadet was always too damn friendly with you anyways.

He doesn't deny such a part of himself anymore...

Now you'll know the truth... and you'll love him for who he is...

Eventually.

---

Upon reaching the Giant Forest, Reiner made sure to be careful with you. You were vulnerable in these woods. While Ymir and Eren, the other captives, were Titans... You aren't.

Reiner never left your side since he took you with him. As his body steamed, he watched you unconscious form. He had already broken your ODM gear... you can't run.

You need him.

Reiner viewed you as his beauty. He may be a monster, beast, and Titan... but you're his beauty. He needs you... and now you need him.

He's given up scolding himself. It doesn't matter now. Who cares what you think right now... That can change. In fact... it will change... he just knows it.

It's what's on the inside that counts... but for Reiner, what does that prove? Is he really a monster or just misunderstood? When you wake up... you don't think of such concepts.

You just see a traitor... a murderer... a monster.

Reiner tries to show you he wasn't fully lying to you. He still loves you! In fact, he can't get you out of his head. He just wants you... needs you...!

You've always been his girl.

Yet you slap him away, growling like a cornered animal. You scream that you hate him. That he's a murderer. He's much worse than a traitor in your eyes.

He ruined your home. He killed your family. He pretended to be your friend, to be all buddy buddy after creating tragedy.

He's your enemy. The very Titan that stole everything from you. You couldn't believe it...

Here he was, stealing your life yet again.

Reiner is quiet when you yell at him. He responds to it like a child being scolded by their mother. He's stoic, accepting your words. These are the very same words he said to himself...

Not like it stopped him before.

"What do you even want from me!?" You cry, staring at Reiner in front of you like cornered prey. You look so vulnerable.

You look like you're meant to be his.

"I want you." Reiner states simply, watching you shake like a wounded animal. "I'm taking you home with me... right where you belong as my girl."

You call him crazy. You say he's a crazy and delusional monster. He accepts your comments, he doesn't deny they're true. He is a monster...

A lovesick monster who's willing to kill hundreds with one stomp if it meant he could keep you.

Out of everything in his life, you are the best thing that ever happened to him. Meanwhile, he's the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Yet again you two are opposites.

But you couldn't be more repulsed by him.

There isn't much you can do. You're surrounded by Titans and Eren doesn't look in the condition to shift again. You have no choice but to wait.

You can't do anything but sit and tolerate as Reiner caresses your cheek with an uncharacteristic softness.

"You don't believe I love you, do you?" Reiner whispers, his proximity blasting you with steam. You grimace, looking away despite his hand on your cheek.

"I hate you." You respond back, noticing Reiner's grip tighten for a moment.

"I... know you do." Reiner begrudgingly admits before gripping your shoulder. "But you'll learn I had no choice."

"You ruined my life... twice!" You yell, only for Reiner to shove you into his chest.

"Let me make it better, then." Reiner murmurs, pressing a kiss to your scalp. "Let me show you you're all that matters... That you're my beauty... My girl...."

"You're a brutal beast...!" You snarl, only for Reiner to cover your mouth.

"I know I am..." Reiner admits before leaning closer. "But I don't care... as long as I'm yours, I could care less what I am... just be mine."

"I would never." You seethe, Reiner seems to ignore what you said in order to pull you closer.

"You will." Reiner rebuts. "You will be mine and you won't have to worry about another Titan other than me ever again...."

You can argue all you want, nothing's going to shatter Reiner's little fairy-tale.

He'll take you home... get a house for you both... then live with you as his little wife...

He's a beast... yet you're his beauty... and he plans to get his happily ever after.

[fever-fluff]

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All Pt II

Word Count: 3.5k (not proof read) Am I writing this instead of doing my finals? Yes. Is it going to be worth it? I bloody hope so. Please do tell me what you think, I didn't expect the first part to go down as well as it did so I hope this lives up to expectations :D

Synopsis: The fallout of Azriel finding out about the bond is bigger than anyone though it would be

Thoughts swirled in your mind as you tried to find Azriel. You’d checked everyone house, the training ring, even going as far as to walk through Velaris aimlessly until you could spot some trail from your mate.

Gods, how had you messed this up? You knew Azriel’s feelings towards the mating bond. In your first few weeks together, he’d explained everything that had happened to his brothers, how they’d found their other halves in the form of two sisters, and that he was sure the third had been meant for him. It had ached to hear him talk of Elain like that, to know your mate was so sure of another that he could not see you right in front of him.

But the shattered tether between you two had torn long before that. Azriel had been sealed shut to the rope intertwining you two for centuries. You had pushed so much love into that bond in the beginning, so much that it had grown thick and blinding on your end, but slithered to nothing at his. Mor and Feyre had helped you come to terms with that, and you never faulted Azriel for guarding himself so tightly. Rhys had mentioned in a off handed conversation that Az was the toughest out of everyone to breach when he needed to speak with him, that he’d built his mental walls so high of his own suffering even one of the most talented Daementi found it sometimes impossible to penetrate.

So, instead of withering away over a bond that would never snap, you had stopped pouring all your love into something only you could see and began pushing it into your words and actions over time. Azriel had accepted it all, finally overcoming his preconceived loss and accepted the love of his own accord. But now you’d gone and torn down everything you’d built with him in months over a few seconds.

You’d looked all day, and he was still nowhere to be found. So, you’d call it a night and look tomorrow, not looking froward to the cold sheets that awaited you.

Except they weren’t cold, a very real, very sombre looking figure with curling wings sat on you side of the bed. You felt the tears of relief spring to release, and made to sit in front of him, an acceptable distance away so as not to touch him in fear of him turning away.

“Azriel?” you hadn’t felt this meek in eons. The weeks gone by had truly taken their toll.

“Did you just say that today to get them off your back?”

Gods, you truly wished he could feel the bond right about now. Feel how much it pulsed in the admittance one of you believed it didn’t exist. Azriel was your life force, what you lived and breathed for every second of everyday. How could he think this was not real? Any of it?

“No, gods no. Azriel, it’s real. It’s there, I promise you.” If he walked away now, you didn’t think you would be able to handle it. Everything had been good, so good. Was looking to have him all to yourself for a couple weeks the wave that toppled the boat? Was your selfishness the flap of the butterfly’s wings that sent an earthquake through the rest of your life?

But the darkened look from Azriel was enough for you to know this was not about you. He wasn’t asking to catch you in a lie. “I-I can’t feel it. It’s never snapped, and it’s been months. How-how can you still be here?”

Leaving the distance between you had been a mistake. Lunging for you mate, you placed your hands either side of his face, and lifted his tear filled eyes to meet yours. “Because I love you, Azriel. Bond or no bond, I love you.”

He shook his head, “there’s nothing to love. I can’t even feel something so innately ingrained in our beings, how can you find anything worth so much?” he had turned his back to you, standing to walk to the dresser.

“Azriel, do not walk away from me.” Fuck being nice, he never responded to your pretty words when he was like this before, how could you think different now. “Shout at me, curse me to Hel, but never walk away from me.”

“What…what can you find in me that you’d rather me stay than go?!” he was spiralling into the darkness that had swallowed him in the first years he had been in this world. Azriel was throwing you his lifeline, and you reached and tugged on it with everything you had.

“Because you’re made for me! In every sense of the word. You are everything I’ve ever wanted for every century I’ve been alive. And even if you cannot feel that I have been made for you, I will prove it every single day of this life and the next that you are wrong if you think not.”

You had stepped up to him again, searching his eyes to see if he’d truly heard you, “I know you hate those stupid parties, I know you hate it when Cassian leaves his sweaty towels in the ring after training. You don’t like the tea Rhys gives you in your early morning meetings, but you still drink it because its been 150 years and to admit it now would make you look bad. I know that Mor’s perfume, the one she wears when the seasons change from winter to spring, makes your nose itch and you sneeze every time you smell it. You don’t like Elain’s scones because of the raisins, and Feyre’s awful singing to Nyx at the crack of dawn.”

“And I love all of you, Azriel. Every damn part of you. The only thing I would change is how much you allow everyone you’ve let into your heart walk all over you.”

Azriel’s breath hitched and the tears that clung to his lashes finally trailed down his cheeks. “I – I… what if it never snaps. What if the bond never snaps for me? What then?”

Closing the distance that had grown once again between you two, you made to grab for him. Holding his face to yours, you felt your tears fall as your mate’s hands covered your own. “Then I’ll love you even more than I already do. I don’t need you to feel the bond Azriel, if you never feel it, then it’s okay. I will love every broken piece of you, even if I can never put them back together.”

You meant it. Every word. Azriel had been broken too many times for you to even think you could fix what hadn’t been whole since he was born. But those pieces of himself, the ones he clung to so desperately and allowed only a few fae to ever glimpse at were worth so much more to you than anything else. You’d hold them, even if they cut and sliced you over and over, and press them close to your own heart, hoping that the love there would be enough to stop them from shattering entirely.

“Ask me to stay, Azriel, and I swear to you that there will not be a day that you won’t know how much I love you.”

You could see the doubt in his eyes, the fear that one day the half-made bond would not be enough to keep you with him. But you needed him to take that risk. And you would take care of the rest. He needed to have the faith to jump, and it was only him who could make that choice.

And as he closed his eyes, resting his head against yours, you felt your whole world tilt on its axis, ready for the words that would seal your fate.

Stay.

It had been fifty years since that day, and Azriel finally began to understand that you were there to stay.

The weeks after the admittance of there being a bond between you had been some of the toughest he’d ever lived through. But it was no one’s fault but his own.

He’d pushed you repeatedly, subconsciously seeing if you would snap under the pressures he shouldn’t have ever needed to place upon you. Rhys had given you leave of your position for the few weeks, but in the end you hadn’t returned to your post for a full year after everything. His constant tearing at your relationship had snapped and sliced at you so much you had become so tired it was even a chore to fight with him, and he realised almost too late that you would rather endure it than leave, nearly turning you to a shell of yourself.

He'd been gone for nearly two months at this point. The mission shouldn’t have taken this long, but Azriel couldn’t find it in himself to return.

Every time he did, this knawing guilt would eat at his insides about fighting with you once again. It wasn’t your fault, it never was. You tried everything to support him, and yet he kept pushing and even he couldn’t understand why.

Cassian and Rhys had sent word not too long ago that he was needed back at the earliest time possible, and it had been their words, not yours, that spurred him to return to the city.

He should’ve answered your letters.

“She’s not responding to the treatments like she should. It’s too slow, and I fear the malnourishment is starting to outweigh whatever help I can give her.” Madja’s words iced his whole being, Cassian and Rhys looked away in shame.

“Where is she?” the plea in his voice did not go unnoticed by the others, but none seemed inclined to tell him.

“Azriel, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see her right now. We called you back in case anything serious should happen.” Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged away from the hold. “You don’t get to make that decision. She’s my mate! I’m supposed to help her!”

“You should tell him.” It was Nesta, coming out from putting Nyx to bed. “Maybe he’ll finally get it through his thick skull if he sees what’s happening.” She’d never used that tone with him, harsh and cold unlike anything he’d heard except the first few months she’d been brought to their court. He felt himself want to cower in the face of Lady Death. You two had always been close, your ability to take on Nesta’s bite and stop it before it festered allowed her to settle a new bond outside of Emerie and Gwyn, something everyone was glad for.

Rhys sighed but relented, and Azriel winnowed to you before any of them could change their minds.

You had been moved to the cabin, away from prying eyes of the fae who’d attempt to do harm while you weren’t your full self. Feyre and Mor had placed extra wards in case, and he had to call to Rhys to ask them to let him through as he felt them blocking his path.

The cabin was warm, fire blazing in the hearth as he made to search the room you were staying in. But the bundle of blankets on the couch had his feet lurching to turn in its direction. You were sleeping, although it was fretful, and the feel of his hand barely grazing your skin was enough to snap you eyes open.

“Az?” You were like ice, and the croak in your voice reminded him of how Feyre had been when Rhys had first called in their bargain all those years ago.

“It’s me.” He reached for your hand, intertwining it with his as he lifted you to sit up. The blankets fell from your form, and his breath hitched to see your bones protrude more than was healthy. Gods, how had he not noticed until now?

Your smile was what broke him the most. Lips chapped, it didn’t reach as wide as it did before, and the warmth it usually held was dulled to a small ember. “Did you get my letters?”

The letters. Oh gods, he hadn’t read any of them. Too scared of his own thoughts that one would be about you leaving before he arrived home.

His reaction must have told you everything you needed, and your smile dropped as your eyes turned like glass. “Did-did you not want to come home?”

Fuck, what had he done?

“I-”

Azriel never finished that sentence. Your head had rolled to the side as he made to catch your falling form. Sitting up had become too much for you, and the little energy you had was expelled in the very few words you’d spoken to him.

Rhys. He called for his brother. Rhys, what do I do? What’s happened?

His answer was almost immediate. Madja says she’s been strained too much. It’s the bond cracking. Even if you can’t feel it, all the fighting has been tearing at it from her end.

He’d done this. He’d torn at her so much he was going to kill her.

Gathering her in the blankets, he lifted her down closer to the warmth of the fire, settling her to his body as he wrapped his wings around them both. Her breathing began to even out as she fell into another shallow sleep, but it seemed she had enough strength to hold onto him, curling her hands in the front of his tunic. “Please stay. I don’ wanna fight anymore, Az. Please, just stay.”

Azriel tightened his arms around his mate, the one who’d given him everything even as he tore her down to nothing in the past few months. “I’m here. I promise, no more fighting. I’ll stay.”

The mark weaved onto the shadowsinger’s skin, burning into it like no other bargain had ever done before. It settled where her head now rested, over the fractured parts of a heart he had refused to allow her to put back together.

But as sleep pulled her further under, Azriel swore he could feel one part stitch itself slowly to another. He’d mend it. If not for himself, then for the woman he had nearly lost to his own darkness.

She wouldn’t leave, he knew that now. But he would no longer make it so hard for her to stay.

Watching now, as she sat having tea in the garden with Elain, Azriel thought of how he’d been so foolish in his first five hundred years of life.

If he’d just waited, and used all those wishes at starfall he wasted on Mor and Elain to instead wish for a chance to meet his real mate, he go back to all that time ago and start over.

You were laughing unabashed at Elain’s annoyance with the sprites leaving bite marks in her prized tulips, keeling over as the middle Archeron shooed them away for the hundredth time.

His own smile turned up at your outward display of happiness. It had taken a while, and months away from one another to get back to this point after he’d realised his mistake. Madja had been helping you recover, while he spent time with the Priestesses to figure out how to get past his own fears and love you like you loved him.

You had sent him word of how you were doing every week, never pressing him to write back but letting him know you’d be waiting when he felt it was right to return. After the first few, he has picked up his own quill and began spilling his thoughts onto paper.

Azriel had realised that while you would put him above all else, that wasn’t always a good thing. He needed to learn how to do that for himself so you wouldn’t lose yourself again. And he had.

He was still the courts spymaster, but his workload had dropped immensely in the past few years. He trusted his spies more often to fill the menial tasks he once filled his time with, and instead spent it doting on you like he should’ve from the beginning.

His heart was slowly mending itself, and he was now more comfortable within himself to not allow the darkness in him to stray from the light.

The last pieces of the puzzle were finally placing themselves back when he’d asked you about the bond and how it felt. You explained to him that it was there, thought it was purely a string of thread between you. Because of the block on one side, you couldn’t feel his emotions or his thoughts, and it had settled something in him he hadn’t realised was so restless.

You truly had loved him for him. There was no extra help from your end, you had to put in just as much as him to make it work.

Grabbing his mug from the counter, he rounded to the door that would lead him out to you. As if sensing him, you turned, and gave him that wonderful smile that had his whole body humming in delight.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” He wrapped himself around you as you greeted him. “You were dead to the world this morning. I’ve never seen you sleep so soundly.”

His hum vibrated against your neck as he placed a kiss on the tender skin. “I was. Couldn’t wake up even when you left. Something has me more tired than usual.”

Being open with you like this was still new to him, and there was still that knawing at the back of his skull that he shouldn’t be revealing something so vulnerable. But as you turned in his hold and wrapped your hands round his middle, he felt it subside. “Maybe its all those years of running on practically nothing creeping up on you.”

“Maybe.” Even now, his words broke off into a yawn, and he felt himself cuddle into your warmth as a soft breeze blew in.

“Well, its lucky we have the day to ourselves then. I asked Rhys last night if we could take a little break.” He could still feel your apprehension as you spoke. It was still there at times, unsurety settling in when you doubted how he’d react.

“I would love nothing more.” Placing a kiss onto the top of your head, Azriel made to pull away to grab his mug.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to eat.” You made for the door he had walked through, but the smash of ceramic had you head snapping back to Azriel.

“Az?”

His breathing had turned heavy, and all that weight of tiredness had lifted from his body in an instant.

Turning to face you, you watched as he mouthed something you thought you’d never hear from his mouth with such reverence.

Mate.

Fifty years. Fifty years of utter turmoil and love and pain and happiness. All of it washed over him at once. He felt the bond, coiling and snapping and threading its way round his very soul. It was thick, more like rope than a mere tendril. And he felt everything he’d shut out from the very moment of meeting you for the very first time. He watched the realisation hit your face, your hands shaking as if you didn’t know whether to grab for him or stay where you were.

“You- you can feel it?”

He felt his voice choke on the simple yea and it was all it took to have you running into his arms hard enough to force you both to the grass beneath you. Laughter, pure and loving laughter spilled from your lips, and he pulled you as close as possible. His own joined not a minute after.

Azriel felt it thrum from you to him, everything you had to give poured down to his side of the bond, as if it had been waiting for this moment. He supposed it had, and as he took everything you had to offer, he returned it tenfold.

Azriel realised then that it wasn’t his heart from stopping the bond from forming. Even if it was still broken, it would have found a way to wrap around it.

No, the only thing that had stopped it all this time, was he fear of giving everything and receiving nothing. Even when you had shown you would, his own mind had fooled him into believing otherwise.

But you had never blamed him, and the missing part of himself had finally returned home when he had stopped blaming himself.

Azriel knew then that he was worthy of the love you gave him, and that you had been right. Even if the bond had never snapped, he would still love you just as much as you loved him.

Taglist (bold could not be tagged) @kalulakunundrum @imnotsiriusyouare @notsarareallynot @mell-bell @ang-taylorsversion @finleyjaycee @luvletterstogwyn @dwkfan @sagskylar01 @hnyclover

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

The Silver Lining

(A/N- Ah yes, Donna, I love her so much)

RL! Donna Beneviento x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Swearing, smut, grinding, and of course face sitting)

When people think of memorable duos, some people think of Bonnie and Clyde or Sherlock and Watson but the first thing you think of is you and Donna. The friendship y’all formed is an unbreakable bond that no one can take away. The both of you are so lucky to have each other, no matter what you or her are struggling with, the other is always there to support and help every step of the way.

It was one of those times again, one of those days when you needed her. You look at your phone in shock when you read the short text message your partner had sent. They broke up with you, not only that but to make matters worse they confessed to cheating on you with one of your friends. You were so confused and lost, the first thing you thought to do was to call your best friend, Donna Beneviento.

With tears dwelling in your eyes and threatening to spill out you dial her number. She surprisingly answered quickly, the shop must be slower than usual today. “Hello?” Donna’s soft voice greeted your ears.

“Hey Donna, could you please come over to my house, something happened and I really need you here.”

Donna's eyes widened when she heard your voice crack just like when you’re crying. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” she frantically questioned, her voice slightly raised out of panic and confusion. She can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.

“No no, I’m okay, physically at least.” You admitted, feeling a little selfish for dragging her out of her work just for your comfort.

“Hm I’ll be right there, stay put dear.”

The beeping sound of the hung up phone went on as the last word Donna spoke ran around your head. Dear? She would always call you pet names, nothing unusual for you two but for some reason the sweet name warmed you up inside. It was a strange feeling.

*Knock knock knock knock*

A familiar knocking sound banged on your door; you already knew it was Donna. You got up to let her in and there you saw Donna’s worried expression plastered on her face. “Come in.”

You lead her to your bedroom since that’s where you both usually hang out together and plus it just felt right at this moment. Taking a seat on the bed, she sits next to you as you explain the whole situation. Donna can feel her blood boil with anger and disgust, “Those fucking bitches, how could they?” She muttered under her breath. She never did like your partner but this made her dislike for them turn into a deep hatred.

Although underneath all that hatred, she felt kinda glad. Glad that you’re finally free now, Donna has always had a huge crush on you, it was obvious to everyone except you, but when you first started dating your partner she was hurt. You were the one that got away, at least she thought, but now she still has a chance.

Donna takes a deep breath before speaking, calming her nerves down. “Don’t waste your energy on dumb bitches like that, they don’t deserve you. You deserve someone better.” She tells you with certainty before her voice drops to a whisper, “Someone like me.”

Your tearful eyes widened at those last words, looking at her to see if she really meant it, but she was avoiding eye contact and her face turned red with embarrassment. “Do you really mean it? Like for real?” You questioned softly.

Silence filled the room for a moment before Donna finally developed the courage to confess, “Yes, I do. I’ve had a small..crush..on you for a long time. I was just afraid to tell you.” Her face somehow managed to get even redder.

“Why..do you like me like that? What is it about me?” Asking in disbelief, Donna is your best friend and you never expected her to have feelings for you out of all people. Honestly you didn’t know how to feel, different emotions are coming at you left and right, it’s natural to be confused like this.

“Well..first off, your stunning personality and smile lights up my world. It makes my entire day, really. Not to mention your looks.” Donna admitted, fidgeting with her hands, not knowing what to do with them, in which you suddenly take her hand in your own. Leaning forward to kiss her, you’re not sure what you’re doing but you just let your body take control.

To your surprise, she kissed back, you would think that Donna would just be standing there frozen due to shyness though that’s not the case right now. She places one hand on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds but it felt like minutes until she pulled away. “S-sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She breathed out, and you took the opportunity to wrap your arms around her waist, connecting your lips to hers. This time instead of a soft kiss, it was a much deeper one. Donna was surprised that you took the initiative though she definitely wasn’t complaining. Although, she pulled away again, but this time not out of uncertainty.

“Let me take good care of you, tesoro, way better than they ever could.” Donna confidently said, also asking for consent to continue on further with what will soon to be the best experience of your life.

You gave her a small sound of approval and Donna placed her hand on the side of your face, her thumb almost touching your lips. “No tesoro, I wanna hear you say it.” She smirked at your expression. You never saw Donna act this way before but goddamn she looked so fine right now.

“Take good care of me, I want you right now Donna.” You said seductively, making her blush deeper across her cheeks while she carefully pulled you onto her lap.

“That’s all you needed to say.” Her words made your heart warm, who knew Donna could be so bold. She placed a soft kiss on your lips, letting it linger there while she littered kisses down your neck, nipping at it a little. The increasing anticipation made you want more, you couldn’t help but grind your clothed core on her lap.

Donna's lips stayed on your neck, her hands grabbing your hips to move you a little to the side, positioning your core on her thigh. With her hands resting on your hips you continued your movements, grinding and grinding, sending friction to your clit, ripping a small moan out of you.

“Damn- that feels good. So good.” You moan out quietly, praising Donna’s actions. The praise sent shivers down her spine and made her heartbeat increase. She always adored every compliment you would give her.

“Mm I can’t wait to taste you. Especially that sweetness I know you’ll produce.” She tugs on the hem of your bottoms, prompting you to lift up and swiftly take off everything from your waist down.

She lays herself down on the bed, patiently waiting. You climbed on top of her and straddled yourself onto her stomach, “Are you sure about this?”

Donna smiled at your thoughtful question, “I’m positive.” She said encouragingly, putting your doubts at ease. You move up with knees on either side of Donna’s head, you can see her smile before she takes her hands and makes you sit down all the way. Before you knew it she was already getting to work.

Your hands tangled in her hair as you started to experience waves of pleasure. Donna’s hands grabbed your thighs, forcing you to stay still when you began to squirm. You gave her a pleading look in hopes that she’ll have mercy and let you grind on her face. In response she smiled in your cunt.

“Just let me do all the work darling.” She mumbles the almost inaudible words against your clit, shooting vibrations to the sensitive nerve. The action made your back arch and your stomach getting an unfamiliar sensation. Donna knew you were getting close so she quickened her skilled movements.

The pleasure you felt was almost unbearable; a few tears slipped from your eyes out of utter pure pleasure as your climax hit you full force. Donna’s movements slowed and rubbed small circles in your hips as your muscles relaxed. Once you caught your breath you moved off her, thighs still trembling. Donna sits up and gestures to you to sit next to her.

“Damn I didn’t know you had all that in you.” You teased, making her blush and look away bashfully.

“Mm yeah, let’s rest up I know you need it.” Donna retorted while also changing the subject; you laid down while she kicked off her shoes and took off her gloves. She settled down next to you as you snuggled up closer to her, whispering a small thank you.

“No need to thank me, I won’t let anyone, especially those bastards, break your heart again, I promise.”

Masterlist

[hoodreader]

ASTROLOGY & SHADOW WORK. signs ur currently going thru the transformative process of working on urself, ur shadows, and healing karmic wounds.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ menu — forms — readings ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

everyone is constantly working on something.

read for solar return, progressed, profection year, and transits.

invest in a journal.

TWELFTH HOUSE SATURN. ☽.🪦.☾ the twelfth house is the house of self-undoing. sometimes, we are blind to how we are our own worst enemy until we get a lot of 12H energy or are in the year ruled by the 12H, or we have a transit 12H dominance. this also will be an indicator of shadow work.

FIRST HOUSE SATURN. ☽.🪦.☾ this similar to the twelfth house profection year thing, but the thing about a 1H saturn transit means that saturn just transited from ur 12H. ur being expected to apply what u learned in isolation and integrate it. it’s almost like a test, because what u learn(ed) and what u apply will influence u until the next time saturn transits ur 1H. u will also probably be in ur head more.

FOURTH HOUSE SATURN. ☽.🪦.☾ this some deep-rooted ancestral and karmic work at play. contrary to what is believed, the houses associated with the earth aren’t the 2H, 6H, and 10H. the houses most associated with the earth is the 4H, as it’s the lowest part of the chart. it’s also the most quiet and intimate to u. this shows a lot of shadow work. lots of isolation. as the 4H and saturn both rule over graves, metaphorical death and the stagnancy that follows. u may feel like ur in limbo.

EIGHTH HOUSE SATURN. ☽.🪦.☾ this is the house governing over death, loss, lack of control. this is a house of obstacles. and is a house full of grief. because of that, saturn here (a malefic, a ruler of death, and so on) doesn’t automatically mean ur going to die soon or the year(s) of that transit lmao. but it may be filled with grief. with torment. it’s an ancestral house and transit. when u dive deeper into the origin of ur existence, u can more easily understand things such as ur karmic inheritances (indicated by the 8H saturn) and more.

SATURN ASPECTS. ☽.🪦.☾

TO THE SUN,

to the sun, saturn will bring shame. this is because the ego will lead u to believe pride is the opposite, but it’s actually the source. saturn will strip away ur selfish distractions. so u are left to nothing & and it forces u to seek satisfaction without temporary validation — whatever it is being validated.

TO THE MOON,

to the moon, saturn will cause loneliness and seclusion. u may feel no one understands, relates to, or empathizes with u. u could be holding onto grudges. saturn may bring fear to ur sense of emotional security, which should teach u to be secure in ur self. to let ur soul be enough. u will also be encouraged to do shadow work or the hidden / repressed side of urself. i feel like people fixate on how saturn represents neglect to the point that they forget ur not supposed to neglect urself.

TO MERCURY,

to mercury, saturn also causes loneliness, as u become isolated from community. in a way, ur mind works against u as well. pessimism… lack mindset… etc. it’ll even show in how u breathe. breath is the indicator of life. what do u breathe life into? u will also have ur logical mind tested.

TO THE NORTH NODE,

to the north node, u will see how ur karma informs ur destiny. are u even ready to accept it? my good friend isis and i have had many talks about people manifesting lives outside of their means. & that’s because they manifest without doing the shadow work. sometimes y’all don’t even be ready for the responsibility that accompanies ur destiny, so saturn tells u where u must mature. what u must surrender. and this goes with the south node; saturn aspecting one node will cause an aspect to the other.

TO THE SOUTH NODE,

the south node, u see how past karmic debt informs destiny. the south node shows what our downfall is — how we may fall on our own sword. likewise, saturn informs us of our weaknesses. ur weakness may lie in ur own self-undoing, ur ancestry’s unpaid karmic debts, ur lack of accountability, ur refusal to rest (or) ur lack of commitment (depends on the conditions). saturn aspecting the nodes really emphasizes the personal responsibility we have to ourselves and our own destinies. it also can show we use our past as a crutch… and no. u gotta move past that. move past the consumerism and materialism. it’s a distraction from ur mission.

tadaaaa. i hope y’all find use in what i’m saying. even if y’all not experiencing transits, i still advise that if y’all got these placements natally, you maybe ponder on it nonetheless.

have a good one y’all.

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

can you do a gideon graves x gn!reader? any hcs (sfw or nsfw) about anything is fine :3

Dating Gideon Graves Would Include…

Pairing: Gideon Graves x GN! Reader.

Summary: Read the title.

Warnings: Both SFW and NSFW (sections are separated: SFW is first), You take Gideon to therapy because he needs it, Gideon is selfish, Oral sex, 69 position, Mentions of cum, Face-sitting, Face-fucking, Aftercare is necessary!

Writing Time: 30 minutes.

Word Count: 716.

A/N:

I think I went on a rant here… but it’s ok. Hope you enjoy!

—-///—-

SFW

• Dating Gideon “G-Man” Graves… woah.

• You must be bold or something.

• If you’re not, I have no idea what you’re doing.

• Gideon is a little shit, most of the time.

• He loves to tease.

• He wants to see his lover look up to him with tremendous trust, respect and admiration.

• All things I think partners should look at each other with, but Gideon can definitely take it too far at times.

• He wants to submit to him in all ways.

• He’s your saviour and your kind, without him you would be nothing.

• Not very healthy at all.

• For example, he expects you to constantly ask him for permission for everyone.

• Generally he’ll always say yes and laugh at you even asking.

• But if you ever think you don’t need to ask, you’re wrong.

• Do something he’s always said yes to before without asking him prior and he’ll be upset.

• Gideon has got major issues.

• I think you could convince him to go to therapy, both on his own and with you (couples therapy).

• But it might take a couple asks.

• And when you do convince him, he’ll think he’s basically sacrificed himself for you.

• One session and he thinks he’s a new man and YOU owe him for going.

• Will absolutely expect some kind of reward.

• Gideon is a weirdo too.

• It’s normal for him to hang around outside while your taking a shower, kind of weird.

• Won’t join without an invite but it’s still weird as hell.

• Gideon loves to watch you do anything tbh.

• Cooking, cleaning, brushing your teeth, go to work, work, come back from work…

• The little everyday tasks everyone does is just a little more interesting to Gideon when he sees you doing it.

• He likes it if you watch him too, it’s kind of a weird form of love to him.

• Your therapist calls it abandonment and attachment issues.

• Gideon thinks that’s BS and claims he just loves to look at you.

• Which he does, but your therapist is still right though.

NSFW

• Most ‘rewards’ Gideon expects demands are sexual.

• You shouldn’t have to be even told to get on your hands and needs for him after he’s gone to therapy for you.

• Your place is either besides him or underneath him.

• Gideon’s preferred position is 69, don’t fight me on this on.

• In this position, you both get pleasure.

• And despite how selfish Gideon can be, he does want you to feel just as good as him.

• When he’s forcing his dick down your throat and slapping you in the face with his balls, you must surely be enjoying it just as much as him, right?

• And obviously he’ll go down on you afterwards, because that’s only fair.

• Gideon gives oral real lazy though.

• Expects you to just sit on his face but be careful of his hair and face.

• Gideon has definitely flipped out before and killed the mood when you once accidentally came on his face.

• Only in his mouth, inside of him or away from him where it won’t make a mess.

• But obviously he cums all over you, whenever he wants to.

• That’s one of his selfish needs.

• Gideon is surprisingly great at aftercare.

• He will bring you a towel or carry you to the shower, whatever you want.

• Clean you up himself and the toys too if you use them.

• And bring you some tea or water as well.

• Then cuddle you when your both all cleaned up.

• After sex is one of the rare times you’ll see Gideon being kind.

[antianakin]

So, when I read George Lucas' quotes about attachments, he's all like:

"Accept that your loved ones are going to die someday. You can't do anything about that. Don't be a jerk because you're afraid of losing them, don't lash out in vengeance because they are hurt, don't shoot up a school to save their lives. Don't try to control people's fate. Don't get married because that's a form of ownership."

Am I crazy...but none of this sounds that that difficult or hard to do?

But when you read around the SW fandom, they talk like the Jedi practice some kind of human rights violation, like they're out here demanding that children suppress all of their emotions, forget about the people they love, that everyone should be able to spew their obsessive anger and misery all over everyone else, and that the Jedi are wrong to suppress a person's right to destroy as many relationships as they see fit.

In fairness, I DO think that it's hard to do sometimes. And I think that that is part of the point. Letting go of people, places, and things that you love is never easy. It's IMPORTANT, but it's not easy. It can even be painful sometimes to let these things go, especially if you aren't used to it. It's EASY to lash out at people when you're upset, it's EASY to be scared of losing what you love, it's EASY to decide to do whatever it takes to avoid that. It's a LOT harder to understand yourself well enough to recognize why you're actually upset and then calm down before you do something you'll regret later. It's a LOT harder to just accept that you're going to lose something you love because that's just how life works. It's hard to accept that everyone, yourself included, has the capacity to be tempted by selfishness.

And i don't think that the message Lucas is sending is that marriage sucks because it's a from of ownership at all. I don't think that's why the Jedi don't allow marriages. They're not trying to stop ANYONE from getting married, we never see or hear them discussing how bad marriage is, it's a cultural thing more than anything else. And my personal opinion is that marriage requires a COMMITMENT that can make being a Jedi difficult, so they DISCOURAGE marriage. Any relationship comes with expectations and obligations, but there are certain relationships that often come with greater expectations of commitment which require a lot more time, attention, and effort given to said relationship. Romantic relationships, and especially marriages, are the most likely relationships to expect major commitments to your partner. Friendships tend to be more flexible about that kind of thing. It doesn't mean that the feelings in a friendship are any less deep or profound, it just means that friendships and romantic relationships often tend to come with very different expectations of commitment. And the expectations involved in friendships tend to be more compatible with the Jedi way of life than the ones involved in romantic relationships (especially marriages).

It's genuinely no different than what nuns do (minus the celibacy aspect). I don't think that nuns feel that marriage is bad, or that it's a form of ownership and so that's why they all choose to never get married. Nuns believe that they have a higher calling to serve their god and they don't want to be distracted by an exclusive relationship that could get in the way of that service. This parallels the way that Jedi are implied to feel a call to destiny, a higher calling to serve the will of the Force, so they choose never to get married (and often to simply not enter into committed romantic relationships at all) because those relationships often involve expectations of time, attention, effort, and exclusivity that they cannot provide because they've chosen to give it to something else instead.

Certain people may not AGREE with the choices a nun makes, they may personally view such a choice to be really weird or unusual or even upsetting, but that doesn't really matter. It's their choice to make and it doesn't have to make sense to anyone else. As much as some people might look at a nun's lifestyle and go "I'd never EVER want that life", a nun probably looks at the choices made by people who get married and go "Wow I'd NEVER do that." Both choices can be valid and just because it doesn't make sense to someone else doesn't make it wrong or inhumane. Marriage can be beautiful, that commitment to someone can be a really wonderful choice to make. Likewise, the choice NOT to get married in order to give yourself to what you believe to be a higher cause can ALSO be a beautiful, wonderful choice to make.

[ninyard]

Thoughts on Kevin ending up nonverbal after Baltimore and everyone’s reaction

God. I love this.

Neil comes back, everyone - even Andrew, especially Andrew - is focusing on him, and listening to him talk, and Kevin kind of... sinks off into the background.

He doesn't mind it, really. Yeah, it's weird that Andrew has hardly looked at him, it's weird that Neil hasn't said much to him at all yet, but it's okay. He sits back, and listens. But the more time that passes, the more this feeling creeps its way up into his chest, around his heart, around his throat.

What will the Moriyama's do now that the Butcher is dead? Has Neil implicated them in it all, did he rat them out to the FBI? If the Moriyama's name finds itself involved in the investigation, how long is it until Day is mentioned? How long is it until someone starts questioning the hand, and the nest, and how long is it until all of these loose ends and messy leads find their way right up to Riko's feet?

There's a hundred questions in his head, but all he can do is sit and stare at a drink in his hand as the stories about Nathaniel Wesninski find their way around the room. Usually at this point Andrew would turn to him, and look between his eyes, and send him some sort of comfort, but he was too involved to care. But that's okay.

Kevin isn't sure he would be of much comfort right now, anyway - he thinks of his hands around his throat, he thinks about how scared he was to lose Neil, how quickly he turned on Kevin to keep Neil safe. Kevin doesn't blame him. But he doesn't forget about it. He knows what it means.

He sleeps that night without saying anything, he's not even sure anybody noticed him leaving early the next morning. He goes for a run as the sun comes up, and the dorm room is still empty when he returns. He makes a coffee. He sits by the broken window. He thinks of all the things he could say to Neil, the things he wants to say to Neil, but nothing feels right. Everything is half formed, and worthless, and when he imagines the words leaving his mouth, they lose their meaning. They lose their purpose.

Andrew texts him sometime before 10, later than Kevin expected him to text, but earlier than he expected him to be awake. It's not much, but something that doesn't require much effort to answer - you good? Kevin doesn't respond. Instead he takes a shower, pulling on the most comfortable and loose fitting clothes he can find afterwards, and he finds himself under the covers of his bed before he could find the energy to convince himself to be productive. He pulls the sheets tight around his head, hugging himself to keep the fabric from loosening.

He thought Neil was dead. He knew Neil should be dead. But he wasn't. And somehow, for some reason, it felt like he was next.

It felt like Neil had dodged certain death time and time and time again, and Kevin had just gotten off lucky. How could he explain that? How could he explain to anyone that he was glad Neil had survived, but he didn't understand it at all? How could he explain to anyone that he was afraid he was next - perhaps if he'd spent more time listening to what Neil was saying the night beforehand, he'd know more about what he'd told the FBI. Instead he'd spent most of that time exhausted and anxious.

He tried to tell himself it was jealousy, for a while, to shame himself into stopping this selfish feeling, but that wasn't true. Jealous that the attention wasn't on him, jealous that everyone cared so much about Neil. He wasn't jealous of anything Neil had been through. For a minute he wondered if it was the attention, but Kevin had never cared much for the attention of his teammates. He'd lost most of their desire to be his friend quite quickly into his arrival to South Carolina, and Andrew was the only one who seemed in anyway interested in dealing with his bullshit. Even then Kevin knew it was a chore, an obligation. Was Andrew his friend? Was he his friend anymore?

Do I keep going? Do I keep thinking about Kevin going into this hole of not knowing what to say, not knowing who cares, not knowing what matters? There probably isn't much of a reaction at all - the only reason people notice being that it's been suspiciously long since Kevin has bitched to them. Neil notices as quick as Andrew does, but he has so much recovery to do, so much mental energy to recoup.

I just picture the trip to the cabins, and Kevin still hasn't said much at all, but nobody really notices. Andrew can't be bothered trying to pull it out of him, so he just accepts that Kevin's gone quiet, and he doesn't say anything about it. It's not that he doesn't care, he just doesn't see a point of trying, because when Kevin goes quiet, he has to come out of it himself. So Andrew knows there's nothing he can do. Neil notices it too, but Andrew just tells him that he's fine.

Then them telling him about Kengo? About Jean? Him finding out where Renee has gone?

[urmommysbathroom]

Earned It, Chris Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n was teasing Chris all night while they were having dinner with their friends. Chris isn't very pleased with this... so he takes his frustration at one way or another.

Warnings: Smut (obvsly) dom!Chris, sub!reader, p in v, teasing, build up to the actual smut.

A/u: this is my first story I've posted on her and I'm TERRIFIED.

Based of Earned It by The Weeknd

 It was around 6 pm and me and Chris were getting ready for a dinner date with some friends. 

I purposefully put on the red lace set and a very skimpy red dress that I knew drove him crazy. 

I’m sitting at the desk doing my makeup when he comes up behind me and places a small, quick kiss on my cheek.

”Alright baby come on we;re gonna be late.” He says, patting my thigh letting me know I need to hurry up. 

I quickly applied some red lipstick and stood up fixing my dress. 

“How do I look?” I asked, looking up at him with big submissive eyes.

”Beautiful as always, ma.” He says, with a toothy grin before placing another soft kiss on my lips.

We walk out the room and up the stairs into the kitchen where Matt and Nick are standing, waiting on their phones.

Matt snaps out of his trance and looks up from his phone.

”Alright, let's go.” Grabbing his keys and heading out the door.

That’s where I got the bright idea: tease Chris.

It was ovulation week and I was already in the mood after seeing him in that slutty black and white suit. God how can one man be so hot? And how is that man my boyfriend? So many questions flood my head as me and Chris hop in the back seat of the minivan.

Whenever we all sit in the car Nick sits in the passenger seat because he knows me and Chris will want to be together. And that’s when I pulled my first move.

As we started driving, I sneaked my hand up Chris’ thigh.

”What’re you doing, sweetheart?” He says, in a low husky voice; a voice that made my legs tremble.

”Nothing baby. Don’t worry about it.” I smile at him, knowing exactly what I’m doing to him.

”Don’t pull anything stupid tonight, alright? I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work, baby.” His voice remains at a low whisper, careful his brothers don’t hear him.

I frantically nod my head. Oh, I am not going to be ending my teasing here. As selfish as it sounds, I want tonight to be all about me. We haven’t had sex in over a month because of Chris’ busy schedule, and I can’t seem to get off on my own. I need him. NOW.

Once we make it to the restaurant we wait for our friends to arrive. We hear a knock on the window, and there it is. Jake Webber and Johnnie Guilbert. Tara was supposed to be here but she got sick and couldn’t make it. Leaving me alone with five boys who act like children. In an expensive restaurant.

We all hop out and walk into the restaurant. We sit down at our booth and order our drinks. While everyone was talking, I decided to tease Chris some more. Whilst he was talking to Jake about whatever the fuck, I grabbed his hand. His big, strong, veiny hands.

God, his hands are attractive. I caress his hand lightly and play with his fingers a bit, imagining what they would feel like inside of me. He curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot right on the spongy material coating my walls. Just thinking about it made an ocean form in my panties. 

I subconsciously squeeze my knees together to try and gain some friction. I pulled his hand down to my thigh so I could feel him touch where I needed him the most. I slowly inched his hand up to my core, but he yanked his hand back right before I got the pleasure I wanted. 

Once again I placed my hand on his thigh, half expecting him to drag me to a bathroom and fuck me over the sink. But no, instead, he firmly grabbed my wrist and pushed away. 

About an hour passed, and I hadn’t done anything since. We get up, say our goodbyes, and leave the restaurant. Once we’re on the road, I look over at Chris’ pants, and there’s a very prominent bulge. I placed my hand on his crotch, which caused his breath to hitch and gave me a stern look. 

I smirk and look away. Watching cars pass and palms trees sway in the distance. I think about what’s going to happen once I walk into Chris’ room. I smirk to myself and giggle at my own thoughts.

We get home and get out of the car. Chris is quick to grab my wrist and drag me out of the car and up the stairs, unlocking the door and running up the set of stairs leading into the house. 

As soon as we reach his room, he closes the door and locks it before pushing my back against the wall.

“What the fuck was that? Teasing me in front of my brothers and in public. You are such a desperate little slut.”

The names he called me caused me to whimper. 

“Pathetic. Get on the bed and strip. Now.” 

I do as he says and strip down to just my lace set I put on just earlier before crawling onto the bed.

He walks over to me, lust filling his dark blue eyes. He undoes his belt and puts it up to me.

I take that as a sign and give him my wrists. He puts the belt around my wrists, looking up at me to see if I'm uncomfortable.

He takes off his tie and throws it somewhere in the room. Along with his button down.

He crawls on top of me and speaks.

“I'm gonna give you ten seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing tonight.” He sneaks his hand down my stomach and stops right above where I need him.

“I just really needed you, Chris. I didn't even want to go to dinner. I just wanted to get you in the mood so that we could fuck.” I say swiftly wanting him to touch me sooner.

“Well since you're telling the truth, I won't go that hard. But still, whatever fuckary you were pulling in the restaurant is bound to get you punished.”

“Chris please fuck me.” I said in a breathy whine.

“Do you think you've Earned It?”

I nod my head frantically. He just smirks and slides his fingers between my folds. Feeling how soaked I am just from his anger.

“Already soaked, and I've barely even touched you yet. You're so pathetic.” He says, lowering himself between my legs, looking up through his eyebrows. 

The names he calls me whenever we're getting intimate always turn me on.

He doesn't give any warning before diving in and eating me out like I'm his last meal. I yell out a loud moan but quickly cover my mouth as Nick and Matt are just upstairs. 

My back arches off the bed, making him hit even deeper spots.

He pulls away and comes back to my face to make out with me roughly, making me taste myself.

He takes the belt off my wrists. And unbuttons his pants.

“You know your safe word right, baby?” He says, pulling his pants and boxers down at the same time. His dick springs out and hits his belly button.

“Yes I do, Chris.” I say, making eye contact with his dick.

He was so big. Nine to ten inches at least.

He spits on his cock and spreads it with his hand. 

He slips his dick between my folds. I let out a whine. His teasing drives me insane. He notices how desperate I am and smirks.

He shoves his entire length in me, not giving any time to adjust before he starts ruthlessly pounding into me. His tip punched my g-spot repeatedly.

I cover my mouth to cover my moans, but he moves my hand away from my mouth and interlocks our fingers.

“Since you were so needy and desperate, why don't you show my brothers how much of a slut you are, yeah?” 

“Fuck… yes, Chris.” I say dragging out the “fuck”

He laughed and continued bruising my cervix.

“Shit I'm so close! Chris can I please cum?” I beg, tears filling my eyes.

“Not yet, baby. You gotta wait for me. Can you do that?” He comes down to my face, leaving kisses and marks all over my face and chest.

I let out an irritated groan as to be denied my orgasm. He grips my hips tightly, surely leaving bruises. 

A string of groans and grunts leave his mouth. He's using me as a toy, and I am not complaining.

“Fuck, baby. Come on, give it to me. Cum on my cock.” His thrust got sloppier as I let out my orgasm.

My vision goes blurry, and my ears start ringing. I felt myself getting soaking wet. Then Chris said…

“Damn, ma, I didn't know you could squirt. That was so fucking hot.” He half yells half moans that last sentence before releasing his orgasm deep in my pussy.

He fucks us both through out orgasms then plops down beside me.

“Did I go too hard, sweetheart?” 

“No baby, it was perfect, I promise.” I reassure him by kissing him softly on the lips. He smiles and hops up, running up to the bathroom.

He walks out with a towel and starts cleaning me up.

“Shower?” He says softly, lifting me off the bed.

“Yes please.” He nods and takes me to the bathroom.

@annamcdonalds67 @slutsturn @urmomatemycoochie @kvtie444

[dreamgirlvibes]

We live in a culture where we are told we can go find better and do better- thus isolating ourselves and repeating this cycle over and over after small disagreements and ego-driven battles. Only to find ourselves becoming a capsule of emotions, memories and soul ties left with nothing but a false hope. Yes, there are instances where you SHOULD remove yourself and disconnect from people and things that are truly detrimental to your life and well being. But every single time someone fails or doesn’t meet such high standards, we’d rather let go instead of giving grace. We would rather remove what could have been instead of thinking of our own triggered responses and actions. We end up selfishly choosing ourselves instead and left with only ourselves. Traumatized by what is called love but we never truly find it. Taught by instagram memes and twitter posts and led by their manifestations. Guided by the followers of God and not Himself. Walking around the earth with a pride so high that couldn’t be reached but expecting for people to climb our walls. Love used to last back then because people knew what it was to TRY. We hallmark this ‘’90’s’’ r&b era because deep down inside we all want to find a love that stays, a love that never quits, that is vulnerable and faithful. It’s not about the boy groups ‘’begging and pleading’’ for their women. It’s not about the r&b divas expressing their hearts outs and uplifting their men. It’s not even about a nostalgic feeling. It’s about the fact that that we all had examples and situations that made us BELIEVE that the kinda love we deserve is WORTH IT. Worth crying for, worth chasing, worth staying, worth giving and trying. We are now blind to that type of love. We all have our guns in our pockets and weapons ready to aim at any kind of instance that doesn’t deem to be perfect. We have traded healthy love for toxicity and eventually made toxicity a normal thing- so normal we are TERRIFIED to try. Scared to stay. Horrified to look so crazy, so dumb, to be open, to cry, to do, to feel that we’re slowly becoming numb to the idea of it. Some praise singleness as a form of healthiness to the point of normalcy. And not saying that being single is not normal, but it’s the projection we forget about. People’s projections have become our new will and we all then cycle it back and pass It along. Causing all of us to eventually feel like we can do so much better, be so much better, when in reality we don’t even realize that the real work is working on ourselves. Nothing changes if nobody changes. We point the finger at each other when the target should be our own lives. If only you and that person could call it truths and instead instantly erasing the memories and history you’ve built off a disagreement, y’all can find a solution- first by removing the ego and letting vulnerability take its place. However, in this generation, that almost seems like a scam. We have power words we use for people who make simple mistakes- calling their choices a disease and spreading awareness to what could have easily been an apology. We would rather categorize people by names then to understand their reasons. We would rather perceive someone for what we choose to believe instead of allowing that person to find solace in us. Because in this generation- love is merely a concept. It is just a partnership until the contract is broken and when it breaks, we can go find another partner than can fulfill our selfish needs. It is prideful, it is not kind, it envies, dishonors others, self seeking, easily angered, never trusts, delights in seeing evil after departure and eventually fails. EVERYTHING opposite of what the Bible describes to BE LOVE. So do not think it rare that we have an enemy who is seeking to remove this altogether. To keep us soaked up in this concept until we no loner have a fighting chance. To keep us ‘’cutting each other off’’ and ‘’blocking’’ each other altogether because we feel like there is SO MUCH better when in reality the better needs to be YOU. You are the change that the world needs.

If everyone looked at themselves before trying to find this love in everyone else- we will all be facing ourseves and getting hit with the fact that when you finally turn around- you will THEN truly see each other. We will then finally see LOVE for what it is.

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 11 . Nothing More, Nothing Less (4)

a/n: double update this week because i got a perfect score on my all-or-nothing oral quiz last night hehe. also, this was supposed to be 2 installments only but I keep making things longer than when I first storyboarded lol

tags: feelings in progress, trying to break out from an abusive mentality, crying, fluff, remember that healing is not instant and takes time

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Everyone dispersed to do their own thing when they got back home. Of course, they did this after they made sure that _____ was inside their room and properly resting.

The healer complied with everyone’s wishes, how could they not when Choi Han was practically guarding the door? However, they were starting to feel restless and bored. Back at their old home, they were never told to rest for this long.

It was the opposite actually.

Everyone back there wanted them to get back in action as soon as possible. It doesn’t matter how bad they feel, _____ is expected to get back to work after 5 hours max.

Knock

Knock 

“Cale-nim asked if you feel well enough to join him for dinner.”

Good thing Choi Han gave _____ an agenda before they die of restlessness.

“Please tell the young master I’ll join him.”

The swordmaster inspected the healer first before nodding. Looks like _____ passed Choi Han’s detector and is deemed well enough to have dinner in Cale’s room.

It was an invitation for dinner but the Medicus knows that its real purpose is so that Cale can have a serious chat with them.

_____ already knows their fault.

In Cale and everyone else’s eyes, they acted recklessly. It’s _____’s mistake that they didn’t inform Cale that could handle that much. Then in turn because of that miscommunication, some things were hindered and they lost manpower for a short while.

To put it another way, _____ hindered everyone’s work.

For that, they were sorry. They didn’t mean to be deadweight that had to be carried around.

_____ told themself that they’ll tell Cale they won’t repeat the same mistake when they have dinner.

…things didn’t go as planned.

When the healer tried to explain that they certainly could handle more than what they did in the Whipper Kingdom Cale only sighed. Then when they tried to say sorry Cale frowned.

That’s never a good sign.

But _____ can’t think of what else they did wrong.

It didn’t help that the children averaging 8 years old also have the same expression.

“You know that I’m trash right?”

“Huh? Uhm yes, I do.”

_____ knew the rumours that labelled Cale as trash, but they didn’t know why it mattered right now.

“Right and as you know someone trash is selfish.”

The healer has no idea where this is going. In the first place, Cale was far from selfish. He may be opportunistic and a little manipulative but everything he did was for the betterment of others.

“Because I’m selfish I don’t care whatever happens to other people. My priority will always be me and my people first.”

_____ still has no idea where this is going.

“That means you, you rascal.”

Cale poked _____’s forehead, straightening the lines of confusion that had formed.

“You’re one of my people. You have been since that day you agreed to leave the City of Life with me.

Meaning, you are my priority. Meaning, I will not tolerate such dangerous and self-sacrificial actions from you.”

On looked at Cale as if he had no right to talk but the redhead didn’t notice it.

“And so in the future, I hope you can promise to never do anything that will harm you again. I don’t need promises of you doing better, I just want to know that you won’t get hurt this severely from healing other people...”

Plop

Plop

Cale who had more to say stopped speaking.

How could he not when he saw _____’s tears?

The same _____ who had a neutral expression after almost dying.

The same _____ who just nodded and moved on after realizing their family had abandoned them.

The same _____ who still had a poker face despite shaking from their nightmares.

That same _____ is now crying.

And it looks like they didn’t even notice they were crying.

_____ only noticed their tears when they picked up the two kittens that had been pawing their arm. After they did, the two took it upon themself to paw away the tears streaming down their face.

It seemed to have the opposite effect though.

Not only did it not stop the healer’s tears it actually made them cry more.

_____ couldn't stop the tears from flowing no matter how hard they tried. After a few seconds of trying they gave up and asked Cale a question instead.

"Cale-sunbae are you never mad at me? You never yell or punish me even though I keep messing up and is essentially useless to your group of experts..." 

Cale feels as though he is gonna have a heart attack from all the surprises because of _____. 

Are they being serious? 

How could Cale get mad at them or think of them as useless when their abilities are so useful? 

Just the amount of money they've saved from using fewer potions because they have a great healer was already amazing. Then there's the ancient power that makes them a living detector. Because of that ability, everyone found it easier to navigate the plants and monsters inside the Forest of Darkness.

How could someone amazing be deemed useless?

This was certainly because of the trash that adopted them.

Cale is going to make sure he fucks them up sooner or later.

But for now, the young master is going to make sure _____ understands their worth.

“I don’t take in useless people. I only take in people that can pay for their meals.”

The redhead used his personal handkerchief to dry the healer's tears.

As he did _____ could feel that warm and fuzzy feeling they felt back at the Whipper Kingdom come back. However, they ignored it in favour of listening to Cale’s words.

“Remember, I personally asked you to join me, to join us. Have you ever seen me make the wrong judgement?”

Cale is definitely tooting his own horn.

But hey if it makes _____ understand.

And it looks like it did because _____ shook their head no. Then they stayed silent as they stared at Cale’s handkerchief. As if they were absorbing the weight of his words.

Cale deemed it enough for now. He knows that _____ will have a hard time reversing everything they’ve learned. It won't be easy, but Cale is willing to go at _____’s pace.

Later that night Choi Han knocked on Cale’s door to report something.

When the swordmaster entered the room the first thing he noticed was how none of the children were with Cale.

“They’re in _____’s room. They said something about making sure that _____ doesn’t cry again.”

Was Cale’s short answer when asked.

“_____-nim cried?”

Choi Han couldn’t believe it. Just what did his Cale-nim say to someone as expressionless as _____ that it made them cry…

“Check on them yourself if you don’t believe me.”

That’s exactly what Choi Han did after he finished his report.

Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t because he didn’t trust Cale’s words. It’s more because he wanted to see if the healer was doing better now.

The black-haired man knocked on the door and Raon answered by opening it using mana.

It’s dark in the room but Choi Han has no problems seeing everything. As he scans the room he sees the children averaging 8 years old lying down on _____’s bed. The two kittens are already asleep just like the healer, leaving the black dragon to be the only one awake.

Choi Han smiled at the sight. The children didn’t look any different aside from the fact they were sleeping on _____’s bed instead of Cale’s. At the same time, it looks like _____ themself is sleeping peacefully.

The swordmaster checked everything one more time to make sure he didn’t miss anything before closing the door to let the four get their well-deserved rest.

[azulsluver]

Bully!au with a cunning mc?

Oh how the tables turned

tw. yandere, bully!characters, manipulation, mentioned violence + public humiliation.

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle ||

From what I am getting at, reader this time can stand up against the bullies. During their time spending with Ace and Deuce, they noticed the way they've been a little distant and leaving backhanded comments. Perhaps reader has been in these types of situations, so they knew better than to entertain the duo by pouting and complaining. Instead, let them have a taste of their own medicine, being sure to catch onto their words in case it sets Deuce off. He's such a hot head. Call out on Deuce's bullshit, corner his feelings and get him to side with you. Ace would be left to fend for himself, so used to having people agree on his terms, he's gotta pick a side to be in the league.

People may not realize it, but Deuce is so easy to manipulate in this au. But he's too far deep into his delusions and selfish desires to repent, thus why it's best to catch on to the signs and take the wheel. Deuce is pathetic in your hands, separate him from Ace, make excuses to keep him company and busy while Ace stays from the side, he is the main reason why Deuce acts this way towards you after all. It's preventable, to say at least, but Ace won't back down so quick.

You have to play the game right, or else you'll fall like a stack of cards.

Ace is good at gathering troops into his plans, he gets to fling those around if they aren't much use to him. You'll catch on pretty quick however, understanding why Ace decided to have everyone turn their back on you. Because he's interested. You make Ace second guess himself, what was special about you to begin with. Could it be the fear of rejection, social image?

You want to peer inside that silly head of yours, glaring from across the room. And you noticed, the way his posture straightens as his eyes make contact with yours, teeth biting his lower lip as sweat cling to his neck. Ace loves the attention.

Riddle and Cater could be out of pure spite. You're good at something that they want.

After being told numerous times by Cater that he'd call the fashion police every time you two would hang out. He expects you to not take it by heart (100% wants you to), through gritted teeth and crumpled knuckles, giving him a confused expression to lay off. If Cater wished to create an image of himself that'll falsely inform others, then you might as well play it his way. Fooling Cater by pretending to be the air headed friend, you listen well to your elders, people slowly recognize you by the littlest of things that can make you stand out. Associating yourself with Cater meant you had been influenced on what you should or not do with him.

In fact you enjoy Cater's expression, when someone comes to say hi to you and not him, or mention your story of something you did last week. Shrugging your shoulders as you bat your lashes, Cater could barely hold himself from strangling you. He can see what you're doing, you aren't as dumb as he thought you'd be.

Clicking his tongue, Cater would want to cut you off from his social life for good, but you'll be a reminder to him that he has to do better. If you can easily take down his persona, just how willing were you to do more than just tease him for taking advantage of an innocent person such as yourself.

Riddle has been through some sort of public humiliation, and you've kept that to the back of your mind. He's high and mighty, he knows what he wants, and he gets it one way or another. You and Riddle would be rivals at most, some form of twisted love he's created for himself, for you, that you're perfect. But so, so disgusting.

He doesn’t wanna focus on or getting in a relationship, his bad habit of being a neat freak has caused a toll on him. Making it worse the longer he indulged in this unhealthy behavior and of, although majority of the characters start off light during their bullying. When turned a blind eye is where evil sets in, growing rapidly once they realize how good it feels to have someone bellow them. Riddle, per say is victim to this trope.

You have to push yourself to him, grab his attention and prove him that you are worth the respect. This goes with intelligence because he’s somewhat attracted to those who know how to use their knowledge to hood use. That’s the point, make use of yourself to show Riddle that you’re someone on his level. This can go two ways with him being your rival or friend.

Don’t be seen as vulnerable around Trey. It’s what started for him to prey on you, with no clue on how the world work to little no friends. At first Trey was your average normal friend who helped you at times need, sometimes it came with a price. But then he got greedy, expecting more than taking advantage of your naivety.

Trey is a little tricky to figure because he doesn’t open up about himself a lot. You have to find weak points that doesn’t involve hurting his loved ones. However you can easily deceive him by playing coy, keep him in line with his morals (once he gets comfortable there’s no turning back). I wouldn’t say he’s easily influenced but he hopped onto the train when it did come to bullying you, I guess he took some form of pity but that was to mask his sadistic tendencies. Trey does try to control his urges of said “temptation”, but he gets off to the feeling of someone needing his help in dire situations.

Which means you can be buddy buddy with Trey just make sure not to trigger any opportunities for him to get to how he is in this AU. At least he gives you free snacks.