#it really breaks me how simple that sentence is.

[viennacherries]

okay hi sorry i need to talk about the lucanis romance for a moment and why i think it's absolutely perfect. spoilers below the cut ofc

so obviously there are a limited number of romance scenes. i really do believe in the case of lucanis' romance this lends itself to telling his story.

we learn through party banter with him and emmerich that his relationship with rook is his first. and that's not suprising really, he's an assassin. he faces death constantly and aside from the fact that he could die at any moment, being in a relationship gives his enemies a weak spot to exploit. love and the weakness required to accept and give it is a risk he cannot afford in his line of work.

then you add on the fact that he's been in the ossuary for a year. he was definitely sure he was never getting out of there. and then he does but he's possessed.

so here's rook. and they're flirting with him and being all enticing and he thinks they're great. but he doesn't deserve love and he certainly can't risk it. he's an abomination, he'll put them in danger. and what happens afterwards? when he goes back to taking contracts? it only takes pissing off the wrong person once for rook to be in danger. so he mostly just talks around it. tried not to think about it or aknowledge it.

and then spite breaks through for the second time. and there's rook. again. and they're soft and understanding and kind and they remind him that under everything else, all of the trauma and the fear, he's human. they make him feel so safe and he starts to let his walls down.

we can't know for sure why he pulls away in that moment, but i think it's because he reminds himself how dangerous it is for him and for rook. he wants them terribly but it's such an awful no good idea so he drags himself away.

but he still cares for them. he makes them dessert and he keeps them safe and eventually he has to admit to himself that they're not just friends anymore.

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

he never tells rook, you only find this out in a bellara romance, but rook is in the fade for weeks.

all that time, lucanis is there and he's just full of regret. because holy shit he's fallen in love with them and now they're gone and he should've just told them. he should've held them like he wanted. because now he can't and he never will again.

and then they're back.

and he comes into their room and his words are so simple.

"i never thought id see you again. i thought id lost you"

and obviously the rest of his dialogue can vary in this scene but all of it is SO weighted if you consider the fact that he really did think they were dead.

"i do. i know how to feel."

"it's one of the things i love about you"

"i'm not going anywhere."

he is in LOVE with them and he's tired of fighting it. he's tired of pretending he isn't. he's tired of denying himself of what he wants because he's scared. because ultimately he did lose them, despite how careful he'd been, and it hurt just the same.

"i know how to feel." because he DOES now.

so in the last battle, before you fight elgernan, he tells you again just how much he loves you. how he'll do anything he needs to to be back in your arms when it's over. because those weeks without you were torture and he never wants to do that again. he wasted all that time terrified to hurt you but you got hurt anyway. why keep pretending? why keep denying himself the person he wants more than anything in the world? he goes from 0-100 because this is so much more real now. there's so much to lose.

"i've assumed you knew my heart because it beats for you. it's been beating... when i wanted you. when i was afraid to want you... tell me this ends with me asleep in your arms and i will kill any god you ask."

this one sentence conveys EVERYTHING. all of his longing throughout the game. how long he has loved rook. he didn't say it because he was afraid. but he's not afraid anymore.

so much of lucanis' romance is about subtext. it's about the things he doesn't say rather than the things he does.

i think it's absolutely beautiful.

[normal-person-i-promise]

「いかないで」

arataka reigen/reader angst and fluff

vent

× × ×

You're leaving again.

'It's just a short trip,' you'd assured him. 'I'll be back in a week.' 'I'll be back before you know it.' 'I'll be safe.' 'I won't die.'

He knows you'll be alright. He knows you'll be safe. He knows you'll be back in a week. He knows you won't die, but he can't— he can't get those horrible, horrible thoughts of you dying in unimaginably terrible ways out of his head. He knows you'll be okay, but he can't stop thinking about why, how, you might not be.

The two of you sit on those cold airport chairs, the metal chilling his skin. He holds your hand in a bruising grip, his knuckles white. He breathes hard, struggling to keep himself from crying. He shouldn't cry. He shouldn't cry.

Your suitcase sits in front of you as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, not paying attention to him. It's so cold. The steel of the chair is so cold. The air-conditioning is so cold. Why are you so cold to him right now?

Your hand is warm. Your thumb caressing the back of his hand is nice. You're nice. You're warm. You shouldn't leave. Why do you need to leave? Don't go.

He hears the words of the airport attendant over the speaker, announcing that the last flight of the day was prepared to be boarded. He panics, a tremor coming to his hands, his eyes growing wet and glassy with tears. He blinks them away before you can see.

You switch off your phone. You get up and off the chair, taking your luggage in a hand and beginning to walk off. His hand slips from yours, and he scrambles to follow.

He's too slow. He's too slow to follow you.

He stares at you as you walk. He stares as that god forsaken bag rolls across the smooth marble floors, making a sound so grating and horrid it makes him want to rip his ears from his head.

He shouldn't cry. He wants to stop you. He wants you to stay. He wants to say those words, he really, really wants to say those words.

'Don't go.'

As the doors slide shut, hiding you from view, he can't hold it in anymore.

He falls to his knees, burying his head in his hands. He cries, he sobs, he begs you to stay, knowing that you aren't here anymore, knowing you can't hear him.

He knows you'll be back. He knows you'll be fine. He knows you won't die. He knows you'll be safe. He knows you'll be fine when you come back. He knows when you'll come back.

Do you not like him? Do you hate him? Why do you have to leave?

He knows why. He can't come along. He wishes, he begs to whatever god is merciful, but none of them listen.

You're leaving again.

He knows he shouldn't cry. He really, really shouldn't cry, but he still, so selfishly, wants to say those words to you.

'Don't go.'

It's so cold. Why is it so cold? Why is the airport so empty? Why is it so dark?

Why can't you stay?

He dries his eyes, leaving the airport. The night is cold, silent, as if judging him. He's being so childish, crying and worrying over a week-long separation. He shouldn't cry.

The floor seems to swim and shift underneath his feet, as if trying to knock him to the ground. The night is falling apart. His vision is blurry. His head hurts. His hands shake. His knees tremble.

He boards the bus, sitting down on the cold plastic seats. He shouldn't cry. He shouldn't cry.

He checks his messages excessively, looking at your empty chat for hours, staring at the illuminated words on the bright screen.

'I'll be back soon!'

He imagines watching you lying down in a hospital bed. He imagines watching you pass on. He imagines your funeral. He imagines your gravestone. He imagines feeling the rough stone underneath his fingertips as he caresses it. He imagines bringing flowers to your grave. He imagines bringing your favourite food to your grave. He imagines crying at your grave. He imagines his tears wetting the soil. He imagines how lonely he'll be without you.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

× × ×

You look so happy in those pictures you send him.

You're smiling. You're laughing. You're grinning.

You're so much more attractive than usual. You're so much more pretty than usual. Your eyes sparkle so much more than usual. Your hair is so much more shiny than usual. Your smile is so much more radiant than usual.

He stares at the pictures for hours.

He dreads the cold nights. He dreads the lonely mornings. He misses you.

He doesn't go to work all week. He stays at home, sitting in his cold, cold room, the blankets and coats and sweaters and scarves doing nothing. He's so cold without you. Why did you have to leave? You're so warm, and he's so cold. Why did you have to leave?

He doesn't eat, he barely sleeps, just staring at those pictures you sent him. Staring at your happy face, staring at your beaming smile. Staring at you.

Why are you so happy without him? Why don't you seem to miss him? What did he do wrong? Do you not love him? Why do you hate him?

He misses you. He loves you so, so much. He wants you to come back.

He counts the minutes. He counts the hours. He counts every minute you don't message him, and he counts every minute that you do. He counts every minute you call him, and he counts every minute you don't.

Seven more days. Six more days.

He misses you.

Five more days. Four more days.

He misses you.

Three more days. Two more days.

He misses you.

One more day.

He misses you.

× × ×

It's the last day. He's ecstatic, a wide, dopey grin plastered on his face as he quickly showers the first time that week and changes into something presentable. It's all for you.

He runs to the bus when you message that you're reaching soon. He sprints, almost falling over, scrambling up the bus's stairs and settling, shaking, into a cold plastic seat. He's still so, so cold without you. You're so warm, and he's going to be able to feel your heat again.

He stumbles out of the bus, almost falling over as he runs as fast as he can into the cold airport, almost slipping on the cold, smooth marble floors. He sits in the cold metal chair, waiting impatiently. He checks his messages obsessively, watching that live location thing you'd sent him. He watches as your little icon glides slowly across the path. It feels like it goes on forever.

You finally arrive.

He scrambles out of his seat, sprinting towards the doors as they slide open and you slip through. He runs into you, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing, squeezing so hard it pushes the air out of your lungs and leaves purple bruises on your skin.

He holds the back of your head in a tight, crushing hand, running his fingers through your hair. He buries his face in your hair, breathing in your shampoo. He's breathing heavily, and his breathing quickens further when you give a tight hug in return, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He's shaking, you notice. His grip is tight, crushing, bruising, and he doesn't let go for a long, long time.

When he finally does, though, he lets out a long, slow sigh, his grip loosening a little as he puts some distance in between the two of you, just enough for him to look at your face. He cradles your cheek, his expression calm, calmer than you've ever seen it before.

"I missed you," he says simply, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pressing his palm to your face as you smile at him. "I missed you too."

Those words make him feel good, make him feel better than he's ever felt. You missed him. You missed him even though you were having so much fun. You still love him.

Your eyes light up.

"I got you a gift," you say excitedly, rummaging through your bag. You pull out a small box, about the size of your palm. He takes it from you almost immediately, ripping the cover off.

It's a bracelet. A small, silver one, elegant chain wrapping around winding branches. Gemstones line the sparkling metal. He struggles to get it on, his fingers shaky and his movements fast, almost frantic.

You laugh in amusement. "You like it?"

He envelops you in a crushing hug again, muttering and mumbling as his grip tightens around you. "I love it," you hear, barely intelligible. "I love you. Oh, I love you..."

He releases you from the suffocating hug, his hands on the small of your back.

"Can we go for ramen now?" He asks, almost begs. He's starving, not having eaten a proper meal for a week. "Please? Anata?"

Your heart flutters at the sound of him using that pet name for you. It's so, so rare to hear him calling you anything other than your name. You don't mind it, of course, but this is a... Pleasant surprise.

You smile. "Of course."

His dopey grin widens as he takes your hand in a bruising grip, leading you out of the airport and to his favourite ramen shop.

He's warm.

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings. fem!reader, handjob, oral (m receiving), face-fucking, multiple orgasms, praise kink, pathetic choso of course, cum eating, 18+ minors dni.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who is the bassist of an up-and-coming band with some of his friends, but isn't nearly as confident on stage as the other members seem to be.

however, despite the way he tends to shy away from the spotlight, he still receives a lot of letters from his various fans, his poor mailbox almost permanently overflowing with packages and envelopes waiting to be opened.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who doesn't mind this in the slightest! in fact, he's extremely flattered by all the sweet words people write to him on a daily basis. his favourite part, though, is getting you to read them out loud for him while you sit comfortably on his lap.

he thinks the praise sounds even better when narrated by your pretty voice.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who has just invited you over to read through today's mountain of fanmail when he sees an unusual letter encased in bright pink paper peeking out from the top. his curiosity gets the better of him, and he peels it open to read it himself before you've arrived.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who begins reading with a smile as he skims through the carefully handwritten words. it starts off innocently enough; just the usual gushing over him and his band's music. however, slowly but surely, the letter delves into decidedly different territory.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who stares at the sentence 'if you just let me have one chance i'd give you the messiest, most toe-curling sloppy toppy known to man.' for what feels like hours, trying to make sense of what it could possibly mean.

the strange phrase is evidently not one he is familiar with.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who scrambles over to you when he hears the sound of the door opening, frantically waving the bright letter around in and begging you to explain it to him. he just wants to understand what his fan meant to tell him, after all!

rockstar boyfriend!choso who becomes even more confused when you start laughing reading the letter, your pretty eyes brimming with amusement and a hand flying up to cover your mouth. "what's so funny, baby? what does it meann?" he whines.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who is utterly dumbstruck when you purr out that it would be easier to give him a 'visual demonstration' to explain what the fan meant by the statement, slowly sinking to your knees before him.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who just stands there dumbly, shifting around from foot to foot and gulping loudly when he sees you looking up at from your place knelt on the floor with those damned eyes of yours that are currently glinting with mischief.

rockstar boyfriend!choso whose hand instinctively flies to grasp your wrist when you reach up towards the crotch of his dark ripped jeans, his cheeks flushing a furious shade of red and his eyes wide with bewilderment. "w-what are you doing, pretty?"

rockstar boyfriend!choso who quickly falls silent when you reach up with your free hand to press a finger to his lips, the other gently breaking free from his loose grip and brushing over the steadily growing bulge in his pants.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who whimpers when you tease him for how hard he is already, your sultry voice both arousing and embarrassing him. "aww, is my sweet boy all worked up just from seeing me on my knees for him?"

he can only nod weakly in response, already feeling overwhelmed from one barely-there touch and a few simple words. it's not his fault, really! he just can't help himself around you; especially when the two of you have never ventured past making out before.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who tries to bury his blushing face in the side of his graphic t-shirt sheepishly when you start to properly palm him over the material of his trousers, his soft moans muffled by the clothing.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who feels an involuntary pout push at his lower lip when you remove your touch, only for it to melt into a gape when the finger that was hushing his lips moves to the underside of his chin, tilting it downwards so he's forced to make direct eye contact with you.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who practically feels himself fold like a lawn chair the second you coo sweetly to him that he needs to "keep his eyes on you" if he wants you to continue touching him, causing him to nod furiously in response.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who couldn't look away from you now even if he wanted to, his entire being mesmerized by each miniscule movement you make — the way your fingers toy with the button of his trousers, the subtle way your teeth sink into your lower lip in concentration...

god, you have him so whipped.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who has to bite back a pathetic mewl when you finally push his ripped jeans down his hips, leaving him standing there in the entryway of his apartment in just his boxers and a band shirt. he knows he should be embarrassed; but right now, he couldn't care less.

he just wants to know what you're going to do next.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who is so lost in thought imaging all the different things you could do to him, that when you rub your face against the erection straining against his boxers, he accidentally releases a strangled squeal of shock.

panicking, rockstar boyfriend!choso hurriedly reaches down to tangle a hand into the back of your hair, keeping you pressed against his clothed cock so you don't have the chance to open your mouth and tease him for the sound he just let out.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who can't suppress a soft gasp as your tongue flickers out to swipe little kitten licks over his tented boxers, no doubt leaving a small wet patch there. "m-mmph. babyy, that feels so good."

rockstar boyfriend!choso who feels rather than hears the way you giggle lightly against him, the vibrations of the sound making him grow impossibly harder. and, oh, you've hardly even touched him yet and he's already prepared to explode at any moment.

rockstar boyfriend!choso whose chest rises and falls with rapid breaths when you start to slowly peel his boxers off too, his throbbing cock slapping against his pale stomach with a lewd smack! that makes him whine in shame.

his embarrassment only increases when he observes the way you react to the sight of his length for the first time, your tongue darting out to moisten your suddenly dry lips and your pupils visibly dilating. "s-stop staring." he huffs petulantly.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who swears he almost cums untouched when you tell him that you're just admiring how "pretty his cock is", his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he tries to think of a coherent response. but any words are quickly lost when you wrap a hand around his base.

"ah!" rockstar boyfriend!choso cries pathetically, the sound resembling that of a wounded animal of some description as you start to gently pump his pale cock in a loose grip, deliberately teasing him with what's to come.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who's so close to the edge already, his balls practically bursting at the seams with the need to release themselves. but then you remove your hand, causing him to whimper in protest and weakly thrust his hips into the air in search of more friction.

"n-no! baby, you're so cruel. please, give me just a little more..." he pants breathlessly, staring down at you with those wide, glossy eyes. shit — how are you supposed to tease him when he looks so painfully beautiful begging for you?

rockstar boyfriend!choso who does actually cum when you lean in to press a gentle kiss against his adorably flushed cockhead, his milky seed splattering lewdly across your features before he can even stammer out some kind of warning.

he prepares to apologize profusely, but trails off when he notices that you seem completely unbothered. no; in fact, you seem to be pleased, licking some of the cum staining the corner of your mouth with a satisfied hum. "you taste so sweet, cho." you purr.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who swears there's a real risk of him fainting if you say another word of praise, so he hurriedly yanks you back by your hair to his still half-hard cock. but he doesn't force you onto it, just brings you close enough that he can feel your breaths fanning across his heated skin, making it visibly twitch.

"p-please can you kiss it again, pretty girl?" rockstar boyfriend!choso whines quietly, his eyes locked on your cum-stained face as you smile softly in response to his request. god, how did he ever get so lucky?

rockstar boyfriend!choso whose entire body convulses when you place another kiss to his profusely leaking tip, quickly grasping the edge of his t-shirt and shoving it between his teeth to muffle some of his sounds as you start to lap at the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

"such a needy boy." you speak teasingly against him, admiring every adorable change of his facial expression as you continue to coat him in your saliva. and choso think he's the lucky one — god knows how many of his fans would kill to be in your position right now (especially the one who penned that vulgar letter.)

rockstar boyfriend!choso simply nods dumbly, clearly too drunk on pleasure from your touches to deny your words. "just for— mmph! — f'you, baby." he slurs out, his hand stroking through the back of your hair as if you're the most precious thing he's ever encountered.

and to him, you are.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who releases the most pornographic moan once you finally take his sensitive tip into your mouth, the feel of your warm, wet mouth suckling around him making his eyelids droop in bliss. he's never experienced anything so perfect in his entire life.

rockstar boyfriend!choso whose crumpled up shirt falls from his mouth, his jaw slackening as he babbles a string of unintelligible curses and whimpers. you've only taken half of his length between your lips, but he already feels like he's in heaven.

he's so lost in dreamland he hardly notices how long it takes you to get all of him lodged inside your mouth, your nose bumping against the small patch of dark hairs scattered near his base as you try to hold back your gag reflex.

you bet he probably doesn't even know just how big he is.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who glances down at you in concern when he hears a slight choking sound, only to be met with the shockingly beautiful (and arousing) sight of your current state.

drool is involuntarily seeping from the corners of your mouth, your eyes watery with unshed tears as you try to handle having your entire throat stuffed more than full with his thick cock.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who doesn't know what comes over him when he finds his hand tightening in your hair, his hips wildly bucking up into the roof of your plush mouth as if they have a mind of their own — he tries to stop, but he just can't.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who sobs out choked apologies mixed with declarations of love over and over again, contrasting the roughness of his repeated thrusts between your lips. you've never seen him so feral before, but it's a sight you're quickly becoming addicted to.

he cums down your throat in record time, emptying all of his balls into your pliant mouth with a strangled whimper. unfortunately, he can't even keep his eyes open to watch you gulp it all down, too high off the feeling of the best orgasm he's ever had.

rockstar boyfriend!choso who forces himself to come back to reality to check on you, his sweet face contorted in concern as he releases his death grip on your hair and tenderly strokes your sticky cheek with his thumb. "a-are you okay, baby? i didn't mean to be so rough. i-i just got carried away." he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

you're quick to assure him that it's fine, smiling up at him as if you didn't just suck the soul of the poor man. and then you have the sheer audacity to purr... "you wanna do that to another part of me too, cho?"

rockstar boyfriend!choso who is absolutely positive you're going to be the death of him one of these days.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I CRUMBLE COMPLETELY WHEN YOU CRY ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; after a tense fight with your boyfriend, you flee out into a brewing rainstorm. luckily, suguru is always willing to warm you up again.

word count; 6.2k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, no really that’s literally all this fic is, sugu snaps at you for worrying about him, (and then promptly spirals), he makes it up to you though :), healthy communication ensues, [name] is used exactly once, switching povs, soft & fluffy ending <33

a/n; going back to my roots (mindless hurt/comfort) 🙏🙏 i just think that if suguru picked me up like a small kitten and put me in his lap it would fix me

you’re cold.

little shivers run through your body, trail down your spine, and all you can do is clench your chattering teeth and dig your nails into the skin of your palms. heavy rain falls down without mercy, going pitter patter as it hits the asphalt — a sudden lightning strike lights up the town, flashing in the reflection of puddles, and all you manage is a weak jolt.

dark clouds blanket the whole sky, not allowing even a sliver of blue to shine through the darkness of the rainy evening. enveloping you, surrounding you, soft earthy scents — wet asphalt, roses blooming to your left and right, bushes with sweet-smelling flora guiding your path. little petals, glistening with droplets and bouncing with the force of the rain.

it’d be comforting, were it not for one simple fact; 

you don’t have an umbrella.

at this point, thirty minutes into your solemn, sniffly walk, you’re absolutely soaked. with only a measly hoodie to cover your body and head, and a tank top sticking to the skin beneath it — you were stupid to think you’d get out of it unscathed. your shoes are ruined, wet soles sticking to the asphalt, two heavy weights carrying you down the familiar street ahead.

you let out a shuddering breath. 

gosh, this was stupid. you knew it was going to rain, but still walked out without a care in the world; despite the weather forecast, despite suguru’s warnings over breakfast, despite all those dark clouds covering the milk-blue sky. you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. you just felt so helpless.

you just couldn’t stay there.

some fresh air, and a bit of space. that was all you needed. just that one sliver of comfort.

so, yeah, maybe you weren’t thinking very clearly when you stormed out. maybe you weren’t thinking nearly enough, not enough to even grab one of the umbrellas hanging off the coatrack. hanging there just for you, the cutest little frog umbrella, one suguru bought for you himself. big, googly eyes, and a big smile. the most perfect shade of green. 

(he put it there just for you.)

maybe you weren’t thinking much at all. maybe you just needed to get away, away from him, away from the frustration on his features. arguments with suguru are few and far between; that fact only adds to the sting of his cold voice, still ringing in your ears. you bite down on your bottom lip again, just to stop it from wobbling so pitifully. blinking rapidly, tears and raindrops clinging to your lashline.

you were just worried. is that so awful? 

(why did he have to be so fucking mean about it?)

a sigh flows from your lips, heavy and defeated, undeniably tired. you hate feeling like this, feeling this bitter, hate feeling like you’ve done something wrong. more than anything, you hate arguing with him — hate the idea of him being angry with you. hate the way his voice turns colder, just a little sharper, an octave lower. he never raises it, never ever, but somehow he still sounds so scary. 

it bothers you. bothers you how sensitive you are, when it comes to him. just that shivering tilt of his voice, coupled with the annoyance in his eyes, and your eyes were already turning glassy. one little sentence, and you were close to breaking out into a sob. because suguru was angry with you, and that alone is enough to make you feel like you’ve done nothing right all your life.

so you left. because that was all you could do. 

sure, the sharp pelting of the rain hurts a little, and the thunder is scary, and you’re awfully cold — but anything is better than having suguru see you burst into tears over such a small argument. you know he’d try to soothe you, know he’d feel guilty. but that just makes it all the more embarrassing. 

(all the more pathetic.)

so you left, rushed out of your own apartment, and before you knew it the storm was rolling in above you. rain and thunder, something to rival the ache in your chest. it still hasn’t been that long, a little over half an hour, and you still haven’t fully calmed down. you still don’t know how to face him. but —

but fuck, it’s cold. and an undeniable part of you yearns to run back into his arms, to make up with him, to hear his voice turn warm and see his eyes go soft. you want him to soothe you so, so badly. like he always does. 

another sigh — more resigned this time — slips from out your lips. your bones feel sore, you’re almost certain you’re going to catch a cold, and it’s getting late. you’re all alone, and it’s raining, and you look vulnerable and helpless. 

you want to go home.

it’ll be awkward, but maybe you can sneak in somehow — without him noticing. then you can go straight to sleep, on the couch, and maybe you’ll feel a little better tomorrow. the two of you can talk it out over breakfast, over warm coffee, and you can tell him what you meant to say without stumbling over what words to use or dancing around the subject like a scared little child.

you’re just too tired to argue anymore.

he just made you feel so stupid. so very, very small. suguru’s been working so hard lately, coming home late, exhausting himself. all you wanted was to make sure he was okay. that, and to coax him into relaxing a bit; maybe take a day off to recharge. that was all.

but he just brushed you off.

and, well, maybe you should’ve backed off after that. maybe you should’ve taken that as a sign that suguru didn’t feel up to answering your questions. but you were just so worried, so pitifully anxious, and you just wanted to help him so, so badly.

suguru is always so dependable. always there to help you, to ground you, to console you. even when you push him away or insist you don’t need it. he can be pushy, when he feels like he needs to, when your health is at risk — and it’s frustrating, but you’ve always appreciated it. you just wanted to return the favour. push him, just a little, to show him how much you care. show him that he can depend on you the way he insists you do with him.

but then he grew frustrated.

”suguru… you’ve been working so much, i’m —” you bite down on your bottom lip. ”i’m just worried that you’re overdoing it.” ”… god. how many times do i have to say it? i know my limits, [name].” ”but — you just look so tired —” ”well, i’m sorry for that.” a cold smile. ”am i not living up to your expectations?”

(that’s not what you meant. he knows that’s not what you meant.)

and it makes you feel frustrated, too. pardon you for being worried. for wanting to be there for him, for once, for wanting to be a supportive partner and not just a burden. 

pardon you for feeling a little lonely, with him coming home so late, leaving so early. with him not giving you the affection you’re so used to, and never confiding in you about his stress.

pardon you for wanting him to trust you, a little, even just a sliver more than not at all.

god, you’re exhausted. you just want to sleep — can’t you have that, at least? just that one thing? you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, don’t mind feeling like a stranger in your own home, as long as you get to rest your eyes. just for a little while. 

your brain spins in circles, bitterness and longing heavy on your tongue, as you grumble over what to do or how to feel — 

while your feet have already begun taking you home. moving almost on their own, on instinct, walking past rose bushes and backyards, the smell of glucose and rotting apples. 

and you’re there before you know it: in front of the familiar door to your shared apartment, soaked from head to toe. still feeling a little lost.

for a second, you hesitate.

maybe he’s still angry. maybe he was happy to get some time away from you. maybe you’re just making things worse by doing this, maybe you should just —

but your fingers have already fished out the key from within your pocket, unlocking the door in one swift motion. moving up to curl around the doorknob, a desperation in your veins guiding you closer to his steady warmth.

and before you have the chance to waver again, you pull the door open and step inside.

you move slowly, gentle and careful, almost cautious. softly closing the door behind you and taking a couple quiet steps forward, only to shrug off your hoodie — heavy, soaking wet and discomforting as you pull it over your head. clumsily, you try to get it off you, squirming when the warm indoors air meets your sweaty tank top. it feels soothing on your bare skin, though, ghosting over your shoulders and collarbone, hoodie now clinging to your elbows.

in the middle of the taxing endeavor, you almost fail to notice the presence of a certain someone, standing just a little farther away. 

almost, because it’d be impossible for you to miss him, that heavy gaze of his.

and before you can think the thought to do anything else, you’ve locked eyes with him — arms still tangled up in the wet sleeves of your hoodie, raindrops and sweat sticking to your skin.

(suguru takes a moment to look at you.)

not daring to say anything, afraid to part your lips, you simply stand there. in silence, like a deer in headlights. for some reason, you can’t really read his expression — you’re a little too tired, a little too caught off guard.

you can only blink, worry surely evident in your furrowed brows, as the seconds tick on and on. tense, tense, tense.

and then he’s walking away again. 

crestfallen. that’s probably the best way to describe how you feel right now, watching him disappear around the corner. dejected, as your eyes fall to the floor, and your posture wilts like a dying rose. you finally shake off your hoodie and watch it fall to the floor with a gross, wet plap.

it hurts. you want to cry. you can’t help it. even though a part of you is still upset, even though a part of you fully expected this to happen… 

another part was still hoping he’d be happy to see you. as if just seeing his smile again might’ve fixed everything.

but he didn’t even give you that.

that’s that, then. there’s nothing you can do except proceed with your original plan. you’ll change into some warm, dry clothes, and go to sleep on the couch like the miserable dog you are. you’ll leave everything troublesome and disheartening for tomorrow’s you to handle. 

for now, you just have to worry about getting some sleep. you don’t have to think about suguru, or his cold voice, or the way he just walked away without saying anything. 

you don’t have to think about him at all. 

(don’t think. don’t think. don’t —)

— the soft patter of footsteps breaks you out of your anxious spiral. they come closer and closer, until a certain silhouette enters your vision out of the corner of your eye.

a certain suguru geto, hair down and cascading past his shoulders, wearing a comfortable sweater and loose sweatpants with a fluffy towel in tow.

once again, you can only blink. a vaguely confused deer in headlights. suguru comes closer and closer, until you can clearly see his eyes, amber gold, full of an emotion you finally manage to identify —

worry.

(ah.)

before you can say anything, he’s draped the towel around you. it feels nice, a soft texture on your skin, big enough to engulf you completely, cocooning you. cozy and snug. you can’t help but melt a little when suguru places his big hand over the towel and smooths it over your cheek, drying off your skin so gently that you feel like crying again.

”are you cold?” he asks, concern evident in his voice. to your immense relief, it sounds nowhere near as scary as before. ”you’re soaked…”

suguru almost seems to be pouting, bottom lip jutting out the slightest bit, eyebrows furrowed softly. still rubbing the raindrops off your skin. he looks awfully troubled, undeniably anxious, and the way he’s caressing your skin feels so earnestly caring. the towel feels warm, like he went the extra mile to heat it up for you.

and, more than anything, the feeling of suguru’s big hands cupping your face is almost heavenly. even though the touch is indirect, you can’t help but bask in his warmth, almost desperate to cling to it after escaping from the harsh cold of the rain. like he could slip away and leave you again if you don’t stay perfectly still, just like this.

it’s soothing. so, so soothing. but it also makes you feel kind of meek.

you sound sheepish when you answer, voice a little hoarse after your grueling walk. throat dry from all the crying. ”nah, ’m fine…”

the words are tiny, fragile like pieces of glass, and they only make suguru’s brows furrow further, pout turning into a soft frown as he gazes down at you.

(he hates how small you look. like you’re curling in on yourself.)

as soon as you left the apartment, a wave of regret washed over him. it was expected, obviously, because that’s what always happens after the two of you argue — which is almost never, which only makes the cut in his heart run deeper. 

he felt frustrated. and tired, so tired. but when he saw your troubled expression, the way your eyes watered slightly before you rushed out…

he could only feel guilty.

and that sensation only deepened as he sat on the couch and spiraled, over the course of forty long minutes, playing the interaction back inside his head. over and over, thinking about your words, his words, some of which he desperately wishes he could take back. 

and when it started raining? suguru could only feel regret, hot and ugly, dragging him into his own thoughts. could only drown in his worries, look out the window anxiously. thinking of you, his sweet baby, stuck under the onslaught of dark clouds and lightning strikes and heavy rain.

(you didn’t bring an umbrella.)

suguru waited. that was all he could do. 

he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel so useless. fighting with himself, the part of him that wanted to give you the space you needed clashing with the part that yearned to run after you — scoop you up and apologize, hold you tight and protect you from the rainfall. you weren’t answering his calls, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to make you feel even worse. afraid to scare you off for good.

so he could only sit there and worry, sit there and wait, wallow in his own shame until he heard the faintest sound of the front door unlocking. followed by the sound of it creaking open, slowly — and that was all he needed. 

and there you were. standing by the entrance, entirely soaked, tank top sticking to your skin and that flimsy hoodie hanging off your arms, cheeks a little red from the cold and strands of hair sticking to your skin.

like a tiny kitten left out in the rain.

it made him feel so painfully anxious. his heart aching so deeply, so viscerally, while all he could think about was smothering you in affection. taking care of you, like he always wants to do, needs to do to stay sane. so suguru left, to go grab something to dry you off with —

and now he’s here. in front of you, smothering you with the towel rather than his love, fretting over you like an overprotective mother. 

suguru yearns to soothe you. to take care of you. always, always, always, his hands on your skin and lidded amber eyes staring deeply into yours. offering himself like a shelter to a stray dog, hoping so tenderly that you’ll take the bait.

(he just wants you to feel safe with him again.)

so he stumbles for something, anything to say, afraid of overstepping or making you uncomfortable. you did just argue, and suguru was anything but patient with you. usually he would be; he’d make sure to be. but with work piling up, and exhaustion clinging to every pore of his skin…

he failed at maintaining his composure.

he needs to make it up to you. despite everything — even though he feels a little awkward, a little restless, still drowning a little in shame — he just wants to tend to you. that, and nothing more.

”hang on,” he exhales, stepping back and letting go of the towel. ”i’ll go draw you a bath…”

”ah — no need,” you smile, a little forced, swiftly reassuring him. he can tell you don’t really know how to act after everything that happened; still walking on eggshells. ”i’ll just take a quick shower.”

suguru wants to protest, wants to coax you into taking a proper bath, into letting your cold skin and aching bones relax completely —

but he can only hum, a little unsure. a little sad. 

”… okay. got it.”

perplexed, he tries his hand at another tactic. still so desperate to take care of you in whatever way you’ll allow, like always, but he thinks it’s worse now. even more desperate, after the fight you had, after seeing your frail, shivering self. resisting the urge to scoop you up and coddle you is a struggle.

”i can make you tea?” he tries, inwardly wincing at the way the words spill from his lips; uncertain, awkward. what a mess.

but you smile, slightly more genuinely this time, a soft little thing. it soothes some of the anxiety rotting through his ribs.

”tea would be great, thank you.”

you brush past him, warm towel still hanging off your shoulders. ”i’ll just take a shower in the meantime,” you murmur, and suguru can do nothing but nod, watching you go. 

he swallows thickly.

(that’s that, then.)

tea. right. what kind of tea? something warm, and soothing, and good for your throat. chamomile? peppermint? he’ll add a spoon of honey, just the way you like.

suguru’s mind spins in circles while his feet take him to the kitchen, hands swiftly rummaging through cabinets and getting the electric kettle ready. placing teacups and a teapot on the table, cute little floral designs he couldn’t help but fill your kitchen with. pouring hot peppermint tea into the pot, a strong scent drifting through the kitchen, drowning his senses in bliss.

caught up in his own head, losing track of time, suguru fails to notice you walking from the bathroom — stopping by the threshold of the kitchen, hesitant to make your presence known. a few silent moments pass. with a tiny inhale, mint invading your senses, you take a step forward. calm and sleepy, skin still pleasantly hot from the warm shower, hair still a little damp.

only then does suguru notice you, his gaze drifting to your figure as if instinctively drawn to it.

you’re clad in some comfortable sweatpants, and an oversized hoodie — his hoodie, the one with the unreasonably soft texture, the one you tend to gravitate towards — the one he likes to see you in the most, because you always look so thoroughly comfy in it. almost drowning in the fabric. 

seeing you all warm and cozy, in his clothing no less, sends a tremor of pure warmth running through suguru’s chest. sprouting in his heart and spreading throughout his entire body. he can’t bring himself to resist the soft curl of his lips, gazing at you so fondly he’s almost sure you notice it.

”i made peppermint,” he says, a little breathless, already pouring boiling tea into two cups on the table. ”that okay?”

”yeah,” you answer, instantaneous. stifling a yawn. you’d have been fine with anything, really.

the shower worked wonders for your muddled mind; chasing away the shivers down your spine, that unpleasant chill to your skin. most importantly, it gave you a moment to simply relax, to bask in the peace and quiet. feel the hot water surround you, melt your bones like softened clay. you feel a little better, now. still anxious, more than a little sleepy, but better. and right now, that’s all you need. 

with a groggy kind of pep in your step, you stumble over to the kitchen table, plopping down on the chair across from where suguru is sitting. trying to get comfortable, knees pressed against your chest, muttering a soft thank you while gingerly touching the rim of the cup.

(suguru frowns, just barely, at the sight. usually you’d sit right next to him. but now you’re in front of him, so very far — as if you’re strangers.

it breaks his heart, a little bit.)

a soft hum leaves your lips when you take a sip of the tea — all warm and comforting and minty on your tongue, a vague taste of something sweet. it’s relaxing, more than anything, and it makes you feel a little more okay with everything.

suguru only watches you, drinking absentmindedly from his own cup. not really tasting anything.

finally, he opts to clear his throat — and your attention falls on him instantly.

”hey,” he starts, ready to address the elephant in the room. his voice is gentle, but decisive, firm somehow. ”about before…”

your body tenses, ever so slightly, fingers uncurling around the handle of the teacup. there’s a kind of shift in the air around you, in suguru’s tone of voice — and you were expecting it, waiting for it anxiously, but that doesn’t make it any less harrowing.

here it comes, your mind seems to sing. here comes the moment everything shatters again.

with as much strength as you can muster, you smile. a little sheepish, just a tad forced, refusing to meet his eyes from across the table. staring into the murky green of your cup and hoping in vain that you can somehow escape this discomfort. 

(you just want to rest. you just want to not have to think about anything.)

”it’s fine, suguru,” you cut him off. softly, but there’s a certain tilt to your voice that strikes him as rather cold. ”we can just drop it.”

the decision in his eyes doesn’t waver. you look meek, awfully troubled, and he hates to force you into another discussion when you’re undoubtedly tired — but suguru’s mind is set. he’s been evasive enough, today.

”no. i want to talk about it properly.”

at that, you seem to deflate a little. suguru is nothing if not stubborn, a quality that always manages to coexist with his gentleness, his desire to be a good partner for you. you can tell he won’t allow you to wriggle away, now that you’re both finally calm. he’s not doing it to exhaust you, not doing it to gain some sort of satisfaction out of ”winning” the argument — he’s doing it because he knows it’s the right thing to do. even if it makes you both a little uncomfortable.

communication is important, immensely so. suguru knows it very well.

and you do, too.

so all you do is curl into yourself, shifting in your seat, allowing him to speak his mind and sipping quietly on your tea. biting back a disgruntled huff, gaze lingering on the tablecloth, little calico cats etched into the fabric. he wanted one with yellow stripes, but still bought this one just for you. just like the ugly matching couple mugs you forced him into buying, the green colour of your kitchen wallpaper. he always places you before himself.

(all you wanted was to change that. just for a night, if nothing else. and he got mad at you for it.)

suguru sighs. it sounds fatigued, not frustrated or disappointed. he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but follow the movement, the soft silky strands and the way he smooths them over. practiced, familiar, absentminded. you could watch him do it forever.

”i had a lot of time to think while you were gone,” he begins, recalling the mental gymnastics he went through while you were away. just sitting on the couch and running himself ragged, trying to be impartial, trying to see your point of view without letting his own bias get in the way.

you sink a little further into the chair, eyes downcast. inhaling the scent of peppermint, trying to prepare yourself for what he might say, the ways this could all go wrong.

”and i realized that you were right.”

…

you blink. once, then twice.

hesitantly, you raise your head, searching for suguru’s gaze. he isn’t looking at you, staring out at the rainfall through the window as if in deep thought. his gaze shifts to meet yours, and something soft flickers through his golden eyes.

he looks troubled, though. trying to find the right words, mind clouded by guilt. chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

it takes him a moment to gather his thoughts, to weigh the words in his mind, just to make sure he gets them across as smoothly as possible. he’s had more than enough time to verbalize his feelings, to think about what he wants to say to you. it was all he could do while he waited. 

so his voice is earnest, when he continues, sincerely apologetic and thought out.

”i’m always telling you not to overwork yourself. and here i am, doing the same thing…” another sigh. ”you were just worried. i shouldn’t have lashed out — you didn’t deserve that.”

suguru searches for your gaze, and manages to find it. you falter a little under the weight of his eyes, but they’re warm, remorseful. a setting sun.

”i’m sorry.”

a moment of silence passes. then two. three, five. you look down at your cup, the purple hyacinths etched into the porcelain. crumbling under his gaze, at the sound of his genuine apology. 

and suddenly, you feel silly — silly for being so scared, for thinking suguru might still be angry with you. for thinking he wouldn’t spend as much time as needed to properly think about your words, your feelings, even if he might not have been ready to do so when he first heard them.

suguru can be stubborn, if he’s convinced that he’s in the right. but he always, always seeks you out eventually, always makes sure to genuinely look at things from your perspective. 

and, really, it means everything. it means enough to wash away all your leftover irritation, from having him brush you off when you know you didn’t do anything wrong. all the leftover sadness from being pushed away, from not being allowed to take care of him the way he always does for you.

suguru isn’t perfect, but he tries harder than anyone you know. tries his very best to be as close to perfect as he can possibly get — for you, for the both of you. he’s considerate enough, mature enough to take the time he needs to properly communicate. that’s how much he loves you. 

and yes, doing so makes you a little uncomfortable. but when faced with something like that, someone so kind, who loves you like the rain loves the ground — how could you ever bear not to do the same?

”… it’s fine,” you start, softly. ”maybe i overreacted a bit. ’s just —” a gulp. you’re trying your best to verbalize your feelings, the way suguru just did, the way he always does.

and he waits, patiently. for as long as you need. looking at you from across the table softly, already immensely relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

”i don’t like seeing you so tired. i know that your work is important, and i support you, but…” your voice goes quiet, as you trail off, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. ”you know.”

and suguru does. he does understand, he always will. so he hums.

”i know,” he murmurs, softly. ”it wasn’t an overreaction. i just didn’t realize it myself. got too caught up in everything,” a sharp exhale leaves his lips. ”it’s been… a long week. i’m not using that as an excuse, though.”

you listen attentively, eyes softening at his words. you can tell that he means it, that you finally got your message across. all you wanted was for him to take a break, to take care of himself.

to let you take care of him.

suguru continues. he makes it a point to look into your eyes as he speaks — a little intimidating, especially in a situation like this — but you know it reassures him, that it lets him know you really understand what he’s trying to say. 

so you hold his gaze, as steady as you can, glancing down at his collarbone when it becomes just a little too much.

”i’m grateful that i have you,” he says, voice dripping with softness, gazing at you with a fondness that has you crumbling all over again. ”and that you care enough to set me straight when i need it.”

and suguru means it. he means it more than anything else. not once has he ever stopped appreciating you, all the things you do for him; always so sweet and caring, even when it’s subtle. this was no exception. you’re always worried, always looking out for him. he feels awful for getting so defensive. for pushing you away, when you were trying so earnestly to reach him.

but he’ll make up for all of that, starting now.

”i mean it. i appreciate you so much, you have no idea — i’m so sorry if i made you think otherwise.” for a moment, his eyes look a little glassy, swimming in remorse. ”i really, really am.”

(and when he looks at you like that, when he speaks so very gently —

how could you ever bear not to forgive him?)

you shift in your seat again. gazing down, chewing at your bottom lip. his honesty makes you falter, makes it hard for you not to do the same; even if your voice ends up sounding awfully tiny and awfully close to breaking apart. 

”… i was just worried,” you mumble, meekly, shooing away any tears you have left with rapid blinks. 

”i know,” suguru soothes. the smile on his face is genuine, comforting, honey and peppermint and warmth. ”i was being immature. you were right — i’ve been burning myself out.”

you don’t say anything. only letting his words console you, feeling yourself relax at the sound of him opening up a little. just enough to make everything all better again.

”i was thinking of taking tomorrow off,” he continues, searching for your timid gaze and smiling gently once he finds it. ”what do you say?”

you brighten a little, so obvious in the way you sit up straighter, the way something soft and hopeful blossoms in the scope of your iris. the sight coaxes suguru’s patient smile into widening a smidge, his eyes crinkling at your barely contained excitement.

”that’d be nice…” you murmur, averting your gaze once more. but suguru can tell you like the sound of that, that it’s exactly what would finally put your anxious mind at ease.

a smile, bright and fond. suguru opens his arms. 

”then i will.”

for a moment, you simply stare. at him, his outstretched limbs — that soft smile, as he waits for you to get the hint. and you blink. 

oh. 

you look down at your lap. a little sheepish, almost shy. it takes you another moment to raise your head, again, only to see another gentle flicker in suguru’s eyes — and then you finally get up from your seat.

it feels a little strange. a little awkward, as if some of your bones still can’t help but tread on eggshells, afraid of making him upset again. but it’s suguru, and he loves you, and his arms are waiting patiently to hold you.

and you want that more than anything. 

so you fall into his arms, softly, curling up in his lap and wrapping your arms around his waist. suguru has one hand on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back, rubbing comforting circles into your spine to make you relax.

it works wonders. despite your initial hesitance, you melt into the embrace without putting up a fuss — happy to be in his arms again, to feel the anxiety dissipate when you realize that everything’s finally alright.

and suguru is just as happy, just as content. breathing out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. he strokes your hair lovingly, and you nuzzle into him a little more; making his lips quirk up, eyes filling with adoration. finally, he can relax. having you in his arms feels so soothing. and you’re so sweet, curling into him, seeking comfort and warmth that he’s more than happy to provide.

how long has it been since he had a chance to hold you like this? he made sure to be affectionate whenever he could, before leaving for work and after coming back — but in the midst of all the paperwork and stress…

suguru sighs, a little sadder this time, watching you bask in the attention he had been robbing you of this whole time. without even realizing it.

”and i’m sorry for neglecting you, too,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. muffled by your hair as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

that certainly gets your attention.

”neglecting me?” you sputter, eyes suddenly wide open and lips parted in disbelief. flustered, heat rushing to your neck and ears. ”wha — what am i, some high-maintenance puppy? you didn’t neglect me.”

suguru only chuckles, biting back a soft coo that he knows would only fluster you more. instead, he pulls away a little, just to look at you, and pecks your forehead softly.

”well, i’m sorry for not being around much, then. i’ll make it up to you. okay?”

hiding away in his collarbone, again, you mutter a soft okay that has suguru’s heart squeezing in his chest. he cradles you close, engulfs you in his embrace, and hopes you can feel his love through the action. hopes you can feel it in the way his arms fit around you like they were always meant to be right there.

and you do feel his love. feel it smooth away the leftover turmoil in your brain, caress your skin softly. it’s soothing, and comforting, and you feel so incredibly safe. here, in suguru’s embrace, with the sound of rain hitting the window and the scent of peppermint wafting through the kitchen — it’d be impossible not to relax.

before you know it, your eyelids have fluttered shut, breathing softening out and heartbeat slowing down. a peaceful rhythm, carrying you away. suguru notices it before you do.

”you sleeping, baby?”

you jolt a little in his arms — murmuring something unintelligible into his neck, and he only chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm.

”c’mon. let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

suguru smooths a hand down your back, arms tightening around you before he scoops you up and gets up from his seat. ”there we go,” he hums, helping you hike your legs around his waist. ”you can sleep, angel. i’ve got you.”

your arms tighten around him, and you inhale his scent; grounding and comforting, raindrops and roses. tomorrow you can bask in it properly, can take care of him properly. you’ll coddle him all day.

but for now, you need to get some rest.

allowing your senses to dull away, clinging to suguru like a makeshift pillow, you absently listen to the storm still raging on outside. faraway, cold and harsh, but comforting when you’re in his steady grasp.

a yawn escapes your honey-soothed throat.

you don’t miss the i love you murmured into your ear, accompanying you into dreamland as your eyes flutter shut.

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[heich0e]

yuuji calls sukuna a lot.

it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.

sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.

sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.

"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.

"—'n now i can't finder!"

"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.

"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"

"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.

yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.

"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."

it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.

but tonight's different.

yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.

"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.

the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.

he doesn't see you.

"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.

"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."

yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.

"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."

sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."

"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.

sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.

"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"

the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.

"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.

as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.

then he sees you.

just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.

sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.

it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been—the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.

instead, they meet his.

"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.

sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.

the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.

"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.

"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.

you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.

"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"

sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.

the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.

"we're very close."

[chlorinecake]

Thoughts on stalker x stalker??

— 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐬.𝐣𝐲

▹ PAIRING: stalker ex bf ! jake x stalker ex gf ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: You and Jake, exes torn apart, developed a mutual obsession with each other overtime, the lingering romance coming to light with a simple flash of his camera…

▹ WARNINGS: BIG DICK JAKE who records a lil sextape of him fingering you because he's a helpless titty fixated perv, unprotected sex (cowgirl), some crying, a brief handjob and fingering session, kinda angsty

▹ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

“Do you really see better with those glasses on?”

Jake's chocolate brown eyes peeked at you through his specs, a gentle hum rumbling from his throat before answering.

“No. I mostly wear them for the art student aesthetic I’m going for… now don't smile, pretty.”

Snap.

You let the small smile on your face relax at his instructions. “And the other reason?” You pressed, watching as he angled the lens a little higher over you this time.

“Hm, dunno... maybe because cute girls always ask about them?”

You hated it whenever he talked about other girls—

Snap.

Another click of his camera sounded throughout the quiet studio, it’s white flashes lighting up the dim room.

“So you like the attention then?” You teased, watching as his facial expression remained nonchalant.

Focused.

“Your attention? Yes,” he admitted, narrowing his eyes behind the camera. “Might be one of my favorite things, actually…”

Snap.

Good answer Jakey, you thought to yourself, trying your best to keep a neutral facial expression before him.

“One of your favorites just like old cameras, apparently...” you went on… “How come you never use the new one I bought you for your birthday last year?”

“Because,” Jake answered while lining his eyes up with the camera lens, “this one is much easier for me to carry around... I like that it’s portable...”

Why would he need a camera on the go, you asked yourself silently… even though, the reality was that Jake had actually dropped the other camera while following you one night—

Snap.

“Jeez, how many more shots do you need, Peter Parker?”

“You'll know when I'm finished,” the dark eyed boy replied with a foreign rasp to his tone, index finger gently squeezing into the camera button as he continued. “Now stick your tongue out for me.”

“I'm sorry?”

Snap.

His unusual sentence really caught you off guard this time, a feeling of chills washing over you as he took his lower lip into his teeth.

“Beautiful,” he said almost breathlessly, “just try following my directions next time though, yeah?”

“Jake, I need a break...” You sighed, changing your position on the couch as his vision remained glued behind the camera.

“In a minute, ____…”

Snap.

He used your first name on purpose because you used his, and he knew you were the type of girl who didn’t like that very much.

“I said that’s enough, alright?”

You slightly raised your voice at him, his demeanor remaining just as calm as before once a prolonged sigh escaped his throat.

“I suppose five minutes of wasted time wouldn’t hurt,” he said sarcastically, placing his red camera on the stool beside him before extending a hand, helping you off the couch.

“Thanks,” you replied half-heartedly, grabbing the large white sheet from the couch arm and wrapping it around your naked body.

“I could never get tired of this honestly,” Jake confessed, watching you intently as you poured yourself a cup of water from the nearby cooler.

“Tired of what?” You asked in between your first sip, his eyes being all over you except your face as you spoke.

“Looking at you,” was all he said for you to roll your eyes at his words, making him chuckle at your reaction.

“I’m serious, y’know that?”

“Mhm… I can tell,” you smirked with a nod, taking the last sip of your water before making your way back over to plop on the couch. “How about you go over your pictures… you’ll never know if we caught the perfect one already if you don’t check…”

He didn’t verbally respond to your suggestion, only nodding in agreement as he reached for the camera, clicking through its film.

To no one’s surprise, Jake, who doubled as your pervy ex-boyfriend and personal neighborhood stalker, felt himself getting hot all over again just from looking at the pictures of you displayed on the grainy screen.

Today's excuse to photograph you? He needed a nude model for his chiaroscuro themed visual project at the fancy art university he attended.

You knew Jake would’ve a hard time finding any other female (or male) to willingly get naked for him, so you obliged… under the small condition that he wouldn’t try to fuck you afterwards.

Simply put, your infatuation with him always made it easier to agree to whatever stupid favors he needed you to do—

“God,” he groaned under his breath, taking a seat as an attempt to hide the boner slowly growing behind his pants.

“Damn, are they really that bad?” You asked with worried brows, misinterpreting his reaction.

“N-no, not at all,” he corrected, eyes still glued to the camera screen.

“Oh... well… okay then,” you sighed with relief, or maybe it was a yawn?

The studio AC was set to such a low temperature that you couldn't help but feel a little sleepy... especially with how mundane this whole model process was getting to be.

“Can I see the pictures?” You asked, making Jake's eyes widen slightly at your request. He knew it'd be suspicious to say no so he instead gave in, reluctantly handing you the camera.

Clicking the left arrow on the circular directional button, the gallery scrolled, picture after picture, with each slide shocking you with how good they came out.

“Lovely, aren't you?” Jake nearly whispered from behind you as he leaned over the couch, his hands pulling your hair out of the tussled bun he previously styled it in for the first part of the photoshoot.

For the next series of shots, he planned to go for a more natural look, taking your hair down to let it hang as the scent of your shampoo ignited him all over again.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hard-on against the back of the couch, eager for any sort of friction that would ease the tension building up inside him.

You felt the teeth of the comb meet your scalp as he continued to comb, the simple act somehow making it even harder for him to control himself.

“You're really talented at this,” you said, just before your eyes glazed over the series of pictures following the one's he'd just taken of you.

Some were from recent trips you took to the supermarket, events you don't fully remember, and even a few scandalous shots of you through your apartment window, changing out of your work clothes—

“Thanks, but I prefer giving credit to the actual person I'm shooting,” he added, looking over your shoulder as you turned the camera off, just before he got a chance to see what you were looking at.

Though, from the almost immediate shift in the studio's aura, Jake had developed a pretty good inkling in his chest as to what you might've seen.

Your throat tensed up, chest expanding slightly with each exhale as a smile grew on Jake's face.

“Just let me know if I'm being too rough, alright?” He started, sectioning out your bangs as his hand slid around your neck, gently cradling your chin upward.

“Jake,” you choked out weakly, a shaky moan slipping past your lips as the comb got caught in a particular knot in your hair, “t-take your time, please...”

You stuttered, hoping in your heart that he wouldn't make a big deal about it.

In truth, you often watched Jake from afar yourself, not being able to get over your obsession with him, even months after you two first broke up…

Your eyes had a way of chasing stolen moments—the curve of his lips as he sipped coffee on his way to class, or the way his personal style slowly changed from denim coats and Timberland's to leather jackets and black boots.

You saw it all, seeking after it as often as you could… using it as a means to coax your own lonely desire for him.

Still, you couldn't quite shake how strange it was to see his gallery filled with images of you from every angle and emotion, even though it eventually delighted you to know that he wasn't as interested in other people as he let on—

“I'm in no rush, ____,” he said plainly, trying to redirect the energy in the room, “just relax for me... I'm not trying to hurt you...”

He chose his words wisely, releasing his hold from around your neck before making his way over to the wall where he dimmed the lights even more.

“I know, Jake,” you nearly whispered, wind flowing from the slightly opened windows as your voice flew with its gust…

“But how long have you been watching me?”

His wrists froze at your question, a mix of relief, guilt, and fear rising within every part of his body.

You turned your gaze towards him, eyes locking to reveal a mirror reflecting your similarly twisted desires, the tension screaming with ambivalence…

“Since we broke up...” He confessed, eerily loud footsteps sending shivers down your spine as he paced against the wooden floor, walking towards you, “does that bother you, love?”

You stammered at first, gentle grasp clinging to the white sheet around you. “It doesn't, Jake... not at all,” you finally mustered, watching as he licked his lips because God, he was such an anxious perv for you...

The way you looked before him in this moment, both fear and recognition present in your features as your body remained still as stone, every natural highlight of your skin looking even more gorgeous beneath the dim lights.

This entire moment was all too much for him… You were too much for him…

Slowly creeping towards you, his intense energy did nothing but make your arms sprout with tiny bumps all over.

“Good,” was all he said at first, trying to digest your body language while freeing himself from his jacket, “but I'm guessing there's something you might wanna come clean about, too, hm?”

“I… yes,” you admitted, somehow regaining your initial confidence, “since you wanna hear me say it so badly... I haven't exactly been able to get over you, either...”

He smirked at your honesty, “How bad has it gotten? The withdrawal, I mean... d'you ever think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Cute, but no...,” you scoffed, “I prefer hands-free fantasizing instead... less mess for me to clean up alone,” you smiled teasingly, tracing the arch of his jawline with your index finger.

It almost felt foreign when you did that just then...

You hadn't touched him like that in months... and even though the act was ordinary, it made you feel something intense—

“I need to take a few more shots of you like this,” he said randomly, reaching for his camera but not sitting on the opposite couch this time.

He stayed right in front of you, joining you on the couch and slightly caging you beneath his frame.

“Trying a new angle I see... these gonna be for your project or—”

“I'm gonna keep these for myself,” he interrupted, snaking his free hand beneath the sheet and lightly caressing the flesh of your thigh before kneading it, dangerously close to your core. “Just make sure you follow my instructions like I asked...”

You nodded at his words, letting your lower body relax as he gently guided your legs open, the sheet falling from over you boobs and exposing them to the air as he grazed your pussy lips with his fingers.

Jake nearly drooled at the sight of your hard nipples, clicking with his tongue to make you look back at the camera. “Start by squeezing your tits together for me,” he started in a low voice, “wanna see how well they’d suffocate my dick…”

The poor guy was still very much hard right now, and it didn't help him one bit with how wet you felt against his fingers, his skilled touch circling your clit as a feathery moan left your lips.

“C’mon pretty, do as I say…” Jake cooed, pointing the camera to you as you did just that, arching your back over the sofa arm while squeezing your tits together, his fingers quickening against your sensitive bud as he kept recording.

You're not sure what came over you just then, but you were starting to feel more than willing to do whatever Jake asked of you, especially when his fingers worked on teasing your initial tightness.

His digits curved against your g-spot, the pressure he applied only escalating as his stiff cock started leaking in his pants.

This entire moment felt strangely nostalgic, reminding you of the many times Jake would stand over while making you cream with just his fingers—

“Tell me when you're close, baby… beg for me to let you come,” he huffed, voice sounding somewhat labored as he intently watched your chest heave up and down, biting his lower lip to stop himself from kissing you.

Because as badly as he wanted to taste you, he had to capture your bliss on camera first, for the nights that memories become too vague... for the nights when fantasies don't compare to the real deal...

Your whole body was a mix of hot and cold, given the temperature of the room and the sexual energy meddling between your excited bodies.

“J-Jake…” you stuttered with a whine, clinging to the couch as your face flushed a ruddy hue, walls desperately clenching around his fingers, “please...l-let me come for you…”

The poor boy didn't know what to do with himself given how wet you were, his puppy-dog eyes looking almost in awe now that the realization had hit him:

He finally got you where he wanted you… and from your perspective, the likewise…

“You can let go now baby,” is all Jake manages to say before you're coming undone, the knot in you abdomen unraveling throughout every limb of your body as pure pleasure coursed through your starved out veins.

Jake kept the camera on your body the entire time, too, his digits only slowing down slightly to help you ride out your high.

He hadn't even fully slipped from your hole yet before a feeling of emptiness washed over you, lust-ridden eyes following Jake’s every move as his veiny hand retreated from your core.

He caught on to it, too... the way your eyes panned in on him like your own built in set of camera lenses... capturing every movement to store in your favorite mental file.

“Fuck,” Jake groaned around his own fingers suddenly, tasting the milky slick he gathered from your hole, “been missing the taste of you so bad, angel...”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered heavily, a clear sheen of Jake's saliva mixed with your sweet release painting the cupid's bow of his pouty lips.

He didn't hesitate to take heed to your words either, setting the camera down with haste before hovering back over you on the couch, not even guiding your face as he kissed your lips, humming into the contact.

The feeling of Jake's sloppy textured tongue against yours sent shivers down your spine, his hot breath doing nothing but heat up the warmth already present between your legs.

His heart pounded against his ribs as the kiss continued, his glasses eventually fogging up from how intense the contact was, compelling you to push him away for a seconds to remove his glasses, your own heart fluttering at his flushed demeanor.

“I need to touch you... r-right now,” you choked out breathlessly, not even bothering to cover your naked body now that the sheet was slipping to the floor.

It was a bit awkward at first, you'll admit, being completely naked while Jake was fully clothed. You grew tired of undressing him with your eyes and knew you had to do something about the issue throbbing behind his pants.

Before Jake could even respond, you were already pushing him back against the other side of the couch, his head plopping on the sofa arm with a gentle thud, fluffy brown locks framing his face.

The shadow of a smirk meddled over his handsome features as you eagerly yet patiently worked on unzipping his pants, the thick mound from his clothed hardness making your head spin.

There was really no point in taking things slow with him in this moment because its not like you two haven't already fucked each other before... only difference now was that it had been a while, so the nerves had built up—

“It's so red,” you remarked with a whisper, just having shimmed Jake's pants down enough for you to get his cock out, “does it hurt?”

“I'll let you know once you start touching it,” he let out with a relaxed breath, eyes once again focusing on the way you sat before him with your tits out on full display.

You took his comment as some sort of green light, gently taking his length in your grasp and pumping it in long, drawn out strokes.

His thighs were already trembling, hips grinding up into your first to gain a bit more friction.

“Fuck, stop teasing, ____,” he groaned with half-lidded eyes, wrapping his hand around yours to manually control the pace.

You let out a laugh at his neediness, swatting his hand away so you could take over again, “This is all apart of the foreplay, Jake... you know I'll be riding your cock properly before the night's out, anyways...”

Deep down, you were having just a little too much fun toying around with Jake right now, but given the sexually frustrated furrow of his eyebrows, you decided to be nice and just let him have you already.

Still pumping his shaft in your hand, you sat up on your knees to straddle him, lining up his tip with your entrance before letting your weight sink onto him, struggling to adjust to his size given how long its been since you took him.

A quiet curse fell from Jake's lips as he watched you wiggle past his mushroom tip, his veiny hands reaching forward to help you completely reach his pelvis.

You let out a shaky whimper at the sudden feeling of fullness, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to stop yourself from making any more pained sounds.

“There you go, pretty... nice and easy...” Jake cooed while still gripping the flesh of your hips, mostly because if he didn't, he would've started thrusting into you, “do you wanna stop?”

“N-no,” you practically blurted out, thighs still feeling tense despite how badly you wanted this with him, “I want you to make me cum again, Jakey... I can take it...”

Your words were like magic to his ears, his strong hand guiding your body against his as he left a tender kiss to your cheek before holding you in place, his dick moving in and out of you at a steady pace that escalated in a matter of seconds.

To be honest, you were shocked by Jake's adrenaline, your body already shaking beneath his arms as he held onto you tighter, grunting with each time your desperate walls clenched around him.

His balls bounced to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin making you shut your eyes tightly in pleasure, whining frantically at the mix of sensations.

Your eyes started to sprout with tears, damping Jake's shoulder as he fucked against your g-spot, making it nearly impossible for you to hold in your delighted screams.

Pouring out a string of whiny moans, your body subconsciously moved with his hips, Jake catching on to your reactions rather quickly as he whispered a sultry “You like that, baby?” against your neck, your head nodding lazily as you looked into each other's eyes, right before your lips crashed into his. 

“I missed this so fucking badly, Jake... 'missed being this close to you,” you let out weakly, one of his thumbs going to wipe the tear of moisture sliding down your face as he kept rutting into you.

“I know, angel,” he panted, kissing you on the center of your lips before pulling back, his tip reaching the furthest its ever been inside your pussy as you rocked your hips against his, wobbly pleas of pleasure slipping past both your lips before you felt yourselves reach your peaks.

“Aww, f-f... shit,” you whined, Jake's hips still pivoting against you despite how strong the orgasm was, your thighs trembling as you felt your walls tighten around him.

“That's it, baby,” Jake cooed through heavy breaths, reeling out more of your pretty moans as he rode out your high for the last time, holding you close to him, “let it all out, angel...”

You let your legs relax, just as Jake sat himself up straight, delicate lips kissing along your jawline as he whispered against your skin, “Now you belong to me again…”

And there it was, two twisted souls basking in the very web of obsession the sewed together, a lost love blossoming yet again from a matter of stolen glances and a series of clandestine photographs bringing you back together again.

You internally yawned at the feeling of Jake's lips against you, his possessive words only making your heart sing as you reached down for the sheet, draping it over both your spent bodies...

“I've always been yours, Jake,” you smiled sincerely, ruffling the hair atop his head before falling back into his embrace, letting yourselves snuggle into the plush cushion of the couch, “even when you left me first...”

▹ Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction and does not intend to romanticize the harmfully obsessive behaviors described between the two characters. Real-life stalking is not okay my guys, so please, don’t be a sasaeng and instead seek healthy relationships !

▹ Perm Taglist ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) : @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr

[jungaji]

when they miss you ౨ৎ

nct dream '00 line ㅤ♡

RENJUN (๑•ᴗ•๑)

you'll always know when renjun misses you because that's when he starts pulling out his mandarin. he calls you late at night, voice soft, laced with the longing he doesn’t really bother hiding,

“我真的好想你吖” (i miss you so much)

“几时才能见面呢？” (when will we get to meet?)

and even if you didn't know or understand chinese before, you've come to learn it after picking it up from him through these calls over time. he always tells you that it's enough to know just these pretty words, and that you don't need to know more.

each phrase or sentence he tells you carries a bit of his heart, and its those little 我爱你 (i love you) moments that linger with you, bridging any distance between the two of you.

JENO (.◜◡◝)

missing you is almost like a battle jeno tries not to lose. he'll pretend like its no big deal, acting like he's just casually checking in on you when he texts, “whatchu doing?”

you always tease him for how obvious he gets—especially because the moment you tell him he can come over, he's at your door before you can even blink.

you open it to find his cheeks flushed, his signature eye smile breaking out as he murmurs a quick and bashful “hi,” before he's pulling you close, lips crashing onto yours. from there, he's glued to your side, following you around whereever you go—even to the bathroom. “i just wanna be close to you!”

whether he's helping you out with little things around your house or just leaning against the wall watching you, his presence fills every corner, as if he can finally relax now that he's with you.

HAECHAN ʕ•Ⱉ•ʔ

being apart from you is a nightmare for hyuck. he's naturally clingy, always close whenever he's with you. but when he's away, its like his clinginess amplifies a thousand times.

if he's the one who's busy, he'll video-call you the second he has any free time, even if it's just a simple “hi”, he can't help but want to see your pretty face and hear your sweet voice.

and when you're the one who's busy? your phone will be bombarded with his texts, asking what you're doing, who you're with, and why you're not with him. if you take too long to respond, he starts sending texts like, “so what position are the two of you in rn?” or, “i know you hate me at least say it to my face.”

and just when you're about to nag at him for being ridiculous, he always makes sure to send you a selfie of himself, teary eyed with a cute pout, accompanied with a, “i just miss you :(”

JAEMIN ₍ᐢ ɞ̴̶̷ ̫ ɞ̴̶̷ ᐢ₎

jaemin swears he misses you all the time, but when the two of you are truly apart, he goes the extra mile to make sure you feel it too.

he's always checking in—texts asking if you've eaten, reminders to rest, and occasionally surprising you with food deliveries whenever he knows you haven't had the time to cook. acts of service come naturally to him—its his way of making sure you're taken care of even when he can't be there himself.

and then there are his calls. his voice soft but steady, filling any silence with gentle reminders of how much he misses you. he never lets the distance feel like an obstacle, his words reaching you with such warmth that its as if he's right there beside you.

“i wish i could be there by your side.”

authors notes: just a lil smth before i disappear for the next few weeks, school has been tough on me :,[ also ive never written in this format before but im really happy with how this turned out hehe i hope youll enjoy, happy reading<3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

tom riddle x wife!reader who is the only one he is submissive in front of

The room was dimly lit, the soft crackling of the fireplace the only sound as you lounged on the chaise, thumbing through a book. Your peaceful evening was disrupted by the unmistakable creak of the front door. You didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

"Darling, I'm home," Tom called, his voice ever so smooth, but you could sense the slightest tension beneath the calm facade.

"Mm, about time," you replied nonchalantly, flipping a page. "Did you—" You stopped mid-sentence as a rather peculiar scent hit your nose. You furrowed your brows, finally lifting your eyes from the book.

And there it was. Right in the middle of the parlor. A dead body.

"...Is that a dead body?"

Tom, still in his pristine suit, looked down at the lifeless figure as if he hadn't noticed it before. He blinked, then, without missing a beat, turned back to you with an innocent expression. "....Maybe."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your book down. "It is. I can see it right in front of me."

Tom ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, his typical composed demeanor faltering for a split second before he put on his best innocent expression. "I promise I'll clean it up before dinner."

You stood, crossing the room toward him, arms folded. "Really, Tom? We’ve talked about this. You have to stop bringing your work home. I swear, if I find one more corpse in our living room—"

"But he annoyed me!" Tom cut in, sounding almost...defensive? He cleared his throat, as though realizing how ridiculous it was to argue this with you. Lord Voldemort, the most feared wizard in the world, trying to justify his actions to his bossy wife. Merlin, what had he become?

You rolled your eyes. "What happened to a simple Obliviate? You didn’t have to murder him."

"I tried! He resisted—"

"Oh, so naturally you had to Avada Kedavra him. Great logic."

Tom shifted under your stern gaze, and you could almost see the way his mind was racing to explain himself. Yet, the way he followed your every move, the almost sheepish way he avoided your eyes when you got close, said everything. You were the one person who could make him bend. The only one who could command him without uttering a single spell.

“Fine,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll…handle it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You better. And don’t let it stink up the house, Tom. I want everything spotless before dinner.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, his voice dropping to a tone so soft, you’d never guess he was capable of mass murder. He snapped his fingers, and the body disappeared in an instant.

"Good." You placed a hand on his chest, leaning up to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "Now, was that so hard?"

Tom’s lips twitched as if fighting a smile. He’d never admit it, but he lived for moments like this, where your mere presence made him feel… less like the Dark Lord and more like your husband. “You really are impossible sometimes.”

You gave him a smirk, your hand trailing down his chest. “And yet, here you are— cleaning up your messes like a good husband.”

He huffed softly, pulling you closer. “Only for you.”

“You better. Now,” you said, glancing around the room. “I’m going to finish my book. And if there’s one bloodstain left on that floor—”

Tom sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, a resigned smile finally breaking through his facade. "Yes, dear."

[fatherfushiguro]

─ ✦ NOBODY ELSE. || TOJI FUSHIGURO

overview hm, maybe you shouldve broke it off over the phone.. content warnings fem reader, no curses/modern au, rough s*x (kinda), cervix f*cking, fwb!toji, overstimulation, teasing, cunnilingus, doggy, petnames (doll, sweetheart, princess) and cheating hehe wc 1.1k

toji fushiguro is, or.. was your fuck-buddy up until recently. your first impression of toji was a stone-hearted fuckboy, never staying in relationships longer than a month, and never falling in love. your meet-ups with him were always strictly reserved for fucking, nothing more and nothing less. so when you got a boyfriend you weren’t sure how to break it to him, and you surely weren’t going to break it off over the phone.

you had been fidgeting with your hands outside his door thinking about what you’d say to him before finally knocking thrice on his door before he swung it open, “what brings you here, doll? left your panties?” he spoke before chuckling. “ah, i’m just kidding, come inside” following him inside, you sat down on his couch.

 it seemed like he was finishing up doing something in the kitchen so you had time to gather your thoughts. you never really had the chance to look around toji’s apartment, all your time here was reserved for his bedroom and sometimes the couch. 

toji finished up in the kitchen and sat right next to you on the couch, his built figure sinking you and the couch, “so what are you here for sweetheart?” he spoke in a gruff tone, your heart was pounding out of your chest at his simple question. “we can't do this anymore” the words shooting out of your mouth like fire, mind running a thousand thoughts per second while you await his response.

“oh? and why’s that” he was sitting up now, locking his eyes with yours, your flustered face and avoidant eyes. “b-because i have a boyfr-” just then, his calloused hands reached out to grab your chin “don't avoid m’ eyes doll, that's not what we do, is it?” you guys lock eyes with each other “i have a boyfriend toji, we can't keep doing this” he let go of your face, pulling his eyes back from you and focusing on the tv in front of him, his reaction leaves you puzzled “helloooo? did you hear me? i said i have a boyfrien-” he cuts you off and keeps his focus on the tv “does he fuck better than me?” his focus still on the tv, and before you can even respond to him “y’ know, does he eh, make you cum better than' me?” his gaze finally landing on you.

“you have yet to answer my question doll” you were writhing away under him. your face was smushed on the wet pillow under you, wet from your tears of overstimulation. he knew how sensitive you were, yet he decides to still tease you. he had you in doggy with a nasty arch, pounding away at your weeping cunt. he’s so big and bulky against you, his hands skimming all over your body.

“yer pussy’s still tight princess, are ya gonna leave me for some little bitch who can’t stretch ya out as i can? ah, y’ hurt my feelings doll” he repeatedly pounds against your g-spot leaving you a moaning mess unable to form a coherent sentence “t-tojiii pleasee, i can't t-take ittt” he was stretching you out so good, you knew you were done as soon as he slid himself inside your heat. you knew you should've left as soon as you told him you were dating someone. he made it so hard to let go of him.

his hands snaked down to feel you more, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast circles adding to the pleasure you were feeling. “aww, m’ baby can’t take it?” his fingers moving in on your clit faster with precision. “s-sso good, you're so good” he moves with such speed that sends spikes of desire to your core. “i thought you were better than this sweetheart" he teases.

 “d’you think yer precious boyfriend would care if i came inside of you?” his hips begin stuttering as they move with such fervor, assuring you he was about to release inside of you. if only you weren’t face down ass up in front of him, you’d be able to see his crazed face. pupils were blown, sweat trickled down his forehead, and a reddish tint overtook his face. he looked like he was drunk off of something, drunk off of you. “i don’t think he’d mind since you're mine anyways” his hips stutter a few more times before you feel your insides being filled, thoroughly. he couldn't resist from how warm your insides were and the way you clenched around him. 

the air around you two smelled of sex, your skin was hot to the touch with you having a sheer layer of sweat. there was a beat of silence, a moment of bliss, the sound of your heartbeat syncing with his.

toji collapsed on top of you before he manhandled you further onto his bed, “what’re you doing toj” you croaked out, your voice still shaky from the pressure. “i can’t just leave my girl messy, now can i?” now, toji knew he was a hit-it-and-quit-it type of guy but he for sure, without a doubt had a soft spot for you, an unwavering sense of love.  it's kinda why he even agreed to be your fwb, if we're being honest.

he kissed you from your belly button down until he was lying between your thighs, looking at your puffy, glistening folds “this needy pussy wants some attention, hm?”

him giving a kitten lick to your sensitive cunt and grinning when you whimpered, he loved when you made breathy moans and whimpers. he glides his finger through your wet slit, teasing you endlessly. his tongue latches on to your clit, suckling and swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, lapping up the never-ending waterfall of slick coming out of you. “does yer’ boyfriend make you this wet princess?”

"please dont fuck- talk about him right now" you spoke in a meek, bunny-like voice. chuckling to himself, his laugh sending vibrations throughout your body. his tongue works its way up and down so messily, he sucks the soul out of your heavenly cunt just to get it all wet again. his fingers find relief inside of you while he suckles on your clit, putting them inside of you and curling right at your sweet spot. you let out a cacophony of sweet, honey-like moans, letting him know how good he’s doing at making a complete mess of you.

“hnn, my baby likes when i push here, right?” he pushes right at your sweet spot once again, making you squirm against him. you can feel him grin right against your cunt, “toji’, need more pl-easee, more”

his fingers leaving you empty where his tongue inserts itself, moving in and out of you so deliciously. he rubs your clit with superhuman speed, leaving you overstimulated and so close. “t-tojii m’ sso close, please keep going” the knot in your stomach was throbbing repeatedly waiting for the perfect moment to burst. before toji could make another smart comment on how wet you were, you squirted all over his face, completely soaking him in your juices.  

“ah, i bet’ya dont do that for him hm?”

authors note 愛 / i would like to thank grammarly, my sister for reading and screampied for the inspo on this theme ( ≧ᗜ≦)

created by @ fatherfushiguro. rbs appreciated, no plagiarizing allowed duh!

[holybibly]

He's just provoking us, isn't he? How can I resist when Seonghwa himself gives me food for unholy thoughts?

So, unholy thoughts of the day: You are an incompetent witch with hidden powerful potential. As your final assignment for the Lesser Demons course at the Magic Academy, you're given the task of summoning a familiar. It's simple—a light spell, a binding magic, an exchange of consent—and there you are, the happy owner of a familiar. But luck seems to have gone against you as you use the wrong ingredient and instead of a lesser demon, you bind yourself to a creature of pure lust and sex, the incubus Seonghwa.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled slightly, either from nerves or the intoxicating feeling of sweet excitement that filled your veins. And that sudden feeling of euphoria that swirled inside you, telling you the answer before he even bothered to answer you. 

He tilted his head slightly, as if he amused you, and looked up at you with the most seductive bedroom eyes you'd ever seen. But behind the sensuality, you could see the dark purple haze of something utterly evil gathering in the depths of his pupils. His plump, slutty lips parted as he flicked his long, split tongue across them, and you could see the tips of his sharp fangs glinting in the half-light of the room. 

"It's easy, little witch." He purred sultrily, his intense gaze burning through you, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your insides twisted, but not in a bad way. "I want you."

His words took your breath away, and your eyes widened as the whole situation came to you. 

Suddenly he was so close you could feel the heat of his body. One of his hands reached up to caress your flushed cheek, long, sharp claws scratching the delicate skin, causing tiny drops of blood to appear on the outside. While his other hand ran along the curve of your waist, making you shiver.

"I want everything—your magic, your soul, your body..." Seonghwa dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but breath. His natural, sensual scent seduced you and made your head spin, not helped by the fact that you were completely at his mercy. Heat rushed to your face, and your legs trembled slightly. You could feel the slime starting to collect between your thighs, soaking the lace of your panties. "I want to taste everything. To make you submit to me, to corrupt this pure soul that beckons me to sink my teeth into you. You know incubuses are insatiable creatures, little witch."

His words had a greater effect on your resolve and your mind. His grip on your body tightened, his fingers digging into you with animal cruelty, and a soft, pitiful moan escaped your lips, which he immediately swallowed with his lips, inhaling it greedily, like a drug.

"It can't be..." You couldn't finish your sentence, your voice breaking, too absorbed in the feeling of him being so close, so close, that you could barely formulate a coherent thought.

"Really? Are you going to stop me?" Seonghwa let out a dark chuckle and brushed the hair from your face. His hips and chest touched your body; he was so close. The mischievous gleam in his cat-like dark eyes, shimmering purple like gems set in thick, fluffy eyelashes, told you to stand your ground, but the curve of his unacceptably plump, kissable lips as he smiled destroyed your attempts at resistance and lured you into his arms. "You are so naive, my love. I don't need your permission to take what I want because you're already mine."

You must have lost your head a lot sooner than you thought, because you found yourself nodding in agreement, overcome by the desire for him that had been building up inside you since he had appeared in your living room. "Yours."

The soft whisper of confirmation that escaped from your chest was all he needed to hear as a wide, devilish grin lit up his features before he dove down, his lips capturing yours in an instant, sending a rush of heat and electricity across the surface of your skin. You gasped for breath against his lips, your back arching as the desire in your belly twisted and tantalised, your hands coming up to grasp his shoulders. The way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin, your skin burning under his touch, and your legs tremble slightly. The way your body reacted and responded to him, you had no words to adequately describe. He was a temptation, a black hole of lust, and he had already sunk his claws so deep into you that you didn't stand a chance to save yourself—he was going to consume you completely.

His teeth caught your lower lip between them, and you gasped as he sucked it into his hot, greedy mouth, his fingers curling up and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you were sure you'd wake up in the morning to find the marks they'd left. Your chest pressed against his, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the silver piercings in his nipples rub against your tits through the thin shirt and bra you wore. He'd done something to you, to your body—you'd never felt so sensitive or so hungry to be touched by someone else.

He made a soft, erotic sound that reminded you of pure porn as your fingers dug into the smooth, golden skin of his shoulders, which shimmered faintly in the darkness as if studded with diamonds. Your other hand was tangled up in his long, silky, black hair. You weren't even aware that you'd moved before the back of your knees were in contact with the edge of the couch, and you were roughly pushed down. The incubus slid easily between your legs, breaking from your lips to kiss your jaw and down the column of your throat as his hips rolled smoothly, grinding his massive cock against your pussy. A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips as pleasure shot up your spine as his cock pressed perfectly against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. 

"There you are, little witch. Moan for me. Moan for me as if you were praying for me, because when I'm finished with you, I'm going to be the only God you're going to know."

[clovdgyu]

requested

#sylus x m!reader #smut #sylus is currently my third priority in lnd (last being xavier because i don't have any solar pairsg bfor him. still love this bb boy tho)

#pet namees (sylus calls reader doll, baby boy, and kitten), breeding kink, fingering, unprotected sex, kinky sex, sylus loves seeing you in your pjs, took place after a year and a few months

#being the cutest, most handsome, and kindest boyfriend of your university's crush, it seems you have a lot to handle at once but especially his sex drive

you looked at the entirety of his condo unit and it was surprisingly huge! well, i guess that's a given seeing how your tall boyfriend is practically towering over you. "your place is nice," you stated before he wrapped his arms around you from behind, hugging you.

"our place is nice. this is where we'll be staying from now on. you don't have to pay rent, no anything. just sit there and look pretty, baby," he told you, the pet name making your cheeks warm as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

it's already been a year and a half when you and sylus started dating, experiencing various ups and downs but stayed together through all of it. one thing you did notice about sylus was that he was unexpectedly clingy and protective.

you never complained though, you loved seeing his vulnerable side. but another thing is, you noticed how he was holding himself back when he was with you. sure, he was clingy, but it just seemed new to you. everytime you initiated any means of physical touch, he slowly backs away.

you know he isn't uncomfortable when it comes to you, but it seemed that he was keeping himself in the "right state of mind" every time you initiated a kiss or any kinds of affection.

back to the present, you sighed and backed away from him, crossing your arms as you looked him dead in the eyes, making sylus confused. "sylus, are you holding yourself back because of me?"

"what? no," he answered a little too fast, a little too suspicious. you smiled at him and held onto his biceps, comforting him. he sighed, "i just don't want you to get the impression that all i ever think about is sex. i was just worried that you might hate it."

a scoff left your mouth as you cupped the taller man's cheeks with your hands. "sounds reasonable enough. but you don't have to hold yourself back, you can ask me when you want to do it. but no means no, alright?"

smirking, sylus used his thumb and index, holding onto your chin and raised it. "well, i am kind of in need of some pleasure right now, doll. do you consent?"

a simple nod from you was all it takes for sylus to finally give in to his desires.

"do i have to do it in my pyjamas, sylus?" you asked the other male who was already laid on your shared bed in just his boxers. you sat on the bed and the other male was obviously smirking as he eyed you from head to toe. "q-quit doing that."

sylus sat up and neared you, one hand supporting his weight behind you. "you just look so cute in those pink pjs, kitten. can't help it."

"you're really—"

you were not able to finish your sentence since as soon as you've opened your mouth, sylus attacked your lips with his. it was surprising for you to say the least as you never had any experience with kissing. you didn't complain though.

if anything, you closed your eyes in satisfaction as you held onto sylus' broad shoulders to try and deepen the kiss. at first you both stayed there, lips connected to each other to bask in the warmth of each other's mouths.

deciding to take the initiative, you slowly detached your lips from him before kissing him back in a torrid kiss, moving your lips in a sensual manner.

a dry chuckle left sylus' mouth at how eager you were before he finally kissed back with the same tempo. the silver-haired male moved his lips rhytmically with yours, small kissing sounds emitting from your lips. slowly, sylus pushed you down the bed, not breaking away from the kiss.

wanting even more, you guided your hands towards your boyfriend's silver hair and softly gripped on it, pulling him closer towards you, letting out a small squeal when his knee slightly brushed on your crotch.

sylus removed his lips from yours, trailing kisses down your neck to your collar bone as he looked up at you, your eyes half-lidded whilst small whimpers left your plump lips. "s-sylus.."

"what's wrong, kitten? you need something?" he asked with a sly smirk, going back to what he was doing. slowly, he undid the buttons on your pyjama shirt, making your cheeks heat up at the thought of showing him your torso. "don't be scared, kitten. I got you," he stated, as if he heard your thoughts.

you nodded as a response, sylus finally done undoing your buttons. "sylus," you called out in a sweet voice to which the said male hummed to, fingers trailing down towards your pants' waistband. he removed his lips from your body and harshly discarded your pyjama pants, making you gasp. "sylus! oh my god.."

the said male stared at your half-clothed body, admiring your seductive and soft stature. "you look so delectable, m/n. i never even thought would ever come," he stated with a teasing smirk, leaning down to places kisses down your stomach.

without even a warning, sylus grabbed the waistpand of your pants behind you and pulled it back, just enough to expose your ass.

you gasped at the sudden rush of coldness before he inserted a finger into your hole, making you yelp before you bit your lips to silence your screams. "s-sylus, oh fuck!"

"hearing you cuss like that is making me hot. why do you do it so politely? you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" sylus teased before he began to thrust his finger inside your hole, inserting another one to fully stretch your hole, doing scissoring motions to prepare you for his meaty cock.

a sudden scream came out from your lips, cutting you out of your thoughts. "oh my god! that felt so weird, sy. fu—you keep hitting it!" you shouted, making sylus 'tsk' as he moved up and placed a hand over your mouth to silence you. smirking, he slowly moved his fingers into your hole, seeing your eyes twitch as he neared that certain spot.

stopping, he tapped on your g-spot, making you whimper as you gripped on the sheets beneath you. finding it amusing, he pressed onto it harshly, making you gasp as you folded your legs. your eyes were closed at the pleasure before sylus' eyes darkened and constantly pressed on it as if it were a remote control's "return" button.

you had no choice but to let out muffled moans, your own cock twitching on your stomach a bit leaked pre-cum. "sylus, no...stop. it feels so good, it's bad," you stated, holding out a shaky hand to remove his finger but it was no use. you barely had any strength left because of the constant abuse on your prostate.

tears left your eyes as whimpers and ragged breaths exited your mouth, altough muffled. "i can't stop, kitten. if i do, wouldn't that be hard for you to take my big cock? now be a good boy and behave," sylus stated as he removed his fingers from your g-spot and began to properly stretch your ass out. "besides, aren't you the one who's pushing their own ass onto my fingers? what a pervert."

"th-then, please hurry up," your big doe eyes looked up at him with plea, the face you had on only making it hard for him to stop. it was always how you looked naturally cute with whatever you do that he would find his own pants get tighter, so having to see it so close is such a great experience.

sylus let out a deep chuckle leaving you feeling confused as he stopped his fingers from ever reaching the depths of your hole. "seriously..." he muttered, slowly pulling out his fingers that got him small whimpers from you, the noise going straight to his cock feeling it twitch in his underwear.

"whatever happens tonight," sylus rasped out, moving closer to you to give you a small shiver as he whispered into your ears. "it'll all be your fault, kitten," you felt yourself losing all the strength you had left in you, an unconscious moan moving past your lips. somehow, the way he calls you kitten just sent something inside you to tingle.

"you don't know how much i've waited to do this to you, m/n. hearing you moan my name in your sleep the last time you came over, i just couldn't wait any longer."

upon his revelation, you felt your cheeks get warm due to the embarrasment. "it wasn't intentional, sylus. I was having a dream...a wet dream that you were fucking my ass nonstop until my legs were nothing but weak," you explained, sighing as the taller male trailed his right hand from your legs towards your chest, his touches making you shiver. "sylus."

"quiet."

you heard how his' breath became raspy as he suddenly began to grind his hard-on onto your exposed cock. "oh my god...sylus," you moaned out, and before you could even comprehend things, he pulled back and dragged you with him, catching you by surprise.

smirking, sylus held you up with ease before you've found yourself on all fours. you were just about to go back up but his sudden weight on your back had you struggling. "kitten, don't fight it."

it's that nickname again. you thought. "b-but this position looks so odd. will—AH!"

a sudden scream erupted from your throat as you felt the tip of sylus' cock suddenly enter your hole unannounced. knowing that he needed to shut you up, he placed his left hand over your mouth as he neared his lips towards your left ear. "as much as i love to hear the noises you make, the walls here are thin."

you could only nod as you tried to adjust his bulbous cockhead. "you're so big, sy. i can feel it stretch me out fully," you stated, although whispered and muffled through the other male's hand.

feeling successful, sylus could only smirk as he felt his chest swell with pride at the thought of the mess he will make of you. he was the sweetest person you could ever meet in your whole entire life. kind and caring, but once you resort into submission, especially to him, there is no way the male would miss out the opportunity to take advantage of it and completely show you his dominance. "that's good to hear, kitten," sylus whispers again into your ears, sending shivers down your spine, feeling your own member twitch at the action.

sylus, then starts littering kisses onto your neck, leaving love bites in the process to show others that you are his prized possession. a silent moan leaves your lips at the contact of his plump lips on your skin. truth be told, just as much as sylus, you have waited for this time to arrive.

before, it was all just happening in your head, but now, you're literally about to get dicked down by the one and only sylus who, for a fact, is your boyfriend, lover, and partner.

you knew that on your first day at sylus' condo that those secret glances and tantalizing stares during your visits were something. you knew that the few times he purposely showed you his thick bulge through his jagger pants without any underwear, his tip poking through the fabric meant something and not just 'to feel more comfortable' as he always would reason to you.

"i'll start pushing, m/n," sylus, in between his kisses, informed you to mentally prepare you for his thick rod, you gasping when he roughly pushed his cock in you as you turned to look back at him with a pained expression, the other male caressing your arms before pushing his cock in fully.

"gh!" you coughed, sylus stopping his movements as he grabbed you by the waist out of panic. "fuck..you're too huge, sylus."

the other male smirked before he gritted his teeth, covering your mouth with his right hand before pushing all of his length with a silent grunt. your eyes grew impossibly wide as a scream emitted from your mouth, not out of pain but not out of pleasure as well. somewhere in between.

this was your first time and you could feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, his thick cock stretching your ass out which made you clench the sheets. sylus hummed at the tightness of your hole, tears trailing down your eyes as you hung your head low. "how does my cock feel, kitten?" sylus asked as he leaned closer to your ear.

a small whimper erupted from your lips as he slowly pulled out until the tip was the only thing inside you, making you clench around his cock needily, pushing your hips back as you looked back with teary eyes. "what..? s-sylus, please—"

all of a sudden, the older male thrusted his cock inside your hole in one go, making you yelp as you arched your back, satisfying sylus who could only chuckle darkly before he was thrusting slowly inside your hole. "shit, your ass feels so good, kitten. i'm finally able to do this. fuck."

small whimpers left your lips everytime sylus pulled out, then back in. wet, squelching sounds originated from your connected parts before he gave another powerful thrust, this time hitting your prostate head on.

"agh!" you screamed out. fortunately, sylus managed to muffle it with his hand. "s-sylus. oh my god...feels good."

"do you seriously want to wake everyone up? you pervert," he degraded, giving your ass a loud slap before he pulled his cock out and placed his hand on your throat to pull you back towards him, thrusting as soon as you two were now kneeling together.

sylus was fast enough to react by attacking your lips with a passionate kiss to silence your screams. you curled your toes in pleasure, eyes closed as you did nothing but choked out moans.

he swallowed every noise that emitted from your lips as your own cock twitched every time the other male subtly thrusted into your tight heat. you felt his tongue swipe along the bottom of your lips, making you open your mouth obediently. the silver-haired male sucked your tongue and swirled his own onto yours.

your lips moved in sync, sylus thrusting experimentally. once he heard a muffled whimper, he of his wits went out the window as he began to thrust into your hole at a normal pace, his hands trailing from your inner thighs, to your crotch, then up your stomach, landing on your chest. "sylus," you called out, your hands finding their way on his arm.

he hummed as he thrusted his cock into your hole at a pace you could bare, small whimpers and moans exiting your lips as your ass hit his hips, wet noises bouncing across the room. the other male could feel your whole body tremble and shake, deciding to fasten his pace with a low groan.

the fast pace has you biting your lip, throwing your head back as scratched your nails on his arms. that familiar coil in your stomach appeared again, pushing your hips back onto his to chase your own high.

"fuck, you gonna cum, kitten?" he asked, you nodding eagerly in response as he began to pound your hole mercilessly, making you moan out loudly. "you really want to wake them up, huh? want them to hear how much of a mess I've made of you? want them to hear how good i'm making you feel?"

not stopping his animalistic pace, sylus focused on giving you the pleasure that you deserve. all you could do was moan wantonly, body squirming as you felt your cock twitch, pre-cum "i'm...i'm gonna—ahhh! s-sylus!"

sylus began to nip at your neck, sucking every once in a while to leave purplish-pink hickeys that would surely be hard to hide even with make-up.

your own breath became ragged, his thrusts going even faster as he chased his own high, making you scream out in pure bliss every time the tip of his cock brushed against your prostate. "fuck, your hole feels so good. does my cock feel good, kitten? my cock makes you feel this good," he clarified before you felt his cock grow inside you, indicating that he was near his climax.

you clenched your hole against his cock, pushing your hips onto his to chase your own high before you let out one particular choked gasp, throwing your head back, eyes rolled back in pleasure as thick ropes of white squirted from your cock, falling onto the bed's white sheets. sylus continued to thrust inside your hole, finding his own release.

the pleasure made your whole body shake as you dug your nails onto the other male's strong arms. "fuck, fuck! i'm gonna cum!" he announced as he threw his head back, holding your waist tightly that it would surely leave bruises. "fuckfuckfuck! oh fuck, i'm cumming!"

you felt his cum paint your walls white, making you groan as you hold onto his biceps. he stayed in that position, cock buried deep inside you as he came a lot, some of it dripping down your hole. an idea popped inside his head. he continued to thrust inside your hole to fuck his cum into you, making you whimper at the overstimulation. "s-slow down, wait."

"i'm sorry, m/n."

"what part of 'no means no' did you not get, sylus?! i told you i had to pee!" you shouted at him, the other male chuckling before he neared you, bolster separating the two of you. "now i've wet the previous sheets. i have never ever wet the bed since i was 3."

he smiled, "i told you, that wasn't pee. well, kind of. i made you squirt," sylus clarified as he removed the bolster and hugged you. you glaring at him before turning your back on him. "please don't be mad at me. (fave food) tomorrow?"

you were just about to say something, but you sigheand looked back at him. "fine. but when i tell you 'no' next time, that means 'no' alright? or no sex for a year."

the thought made sylus widen his eyes before he pursed his lips then nodded, hugging you closer as you two went to sleep, unaware of a fully awake doctor who was now even more awake after what he just heard.

[igotanidea]

The great birthday mess up : Damian Wayne x Reader

Request: Yes! Reader planning a surprise party for Dami and him thining she's going to break up with him so he does it first.

Thank you anon! ;) made some changes to the requests hope you'll like it either way :)

***

„I don’t understand…” the words coming out of Damian’s mouth was the perfect example that hearing and getting were two completely different things.

“What’s there to not understand Y/N?. I’m breaking up with you. Sounds pretty simple even for your little brain.” He shrugged and turned to the window in their shared apartment so she wouldn’t see the strain on his face and clenched fists.

“But-“

“Please don’t go all whiny on me now. Just take my decision with dignity.

“I don’t understand—” she said again, as if that was the only sentence she could say in shock coursing in every cell in her body.

“Of course you don’t.” the tone he was giving her was ruthless, unlike the rapid beat of his heart calling her name with all the emotional power it could gather.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” as pathetic as it was, she almost downgraded herself to begging for an explanation with that sentence

“I’m just breaking up with you! Now will you leave me alone? I really do not want to see your face anymore.”

Well that was true, cause seeing her sad face was making his resolve crumble.

And It hurt. It hurt to tell her all those mean things.

Especially because Damian did not even wantto act like an asshole.

He did love her like a fool, he used to laugh at. If anything, he could just fall at her feet (as long as no one  saw) and beg to forgive him.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because she was the one who stopped loving him first.

***

Three weeks ago, “command center” at Wayne Manor.

“Ok, people, listen up! We’re on a mission of-“

“Is she for real?” Tim whispered turning to Dick who was holding back a laugh. If the boys knew that Y/N would take planning Damian’s 24th birthday in such a serious manner, almost putting on a war paint, one of them would bring a fancy camera to memorize it.

Instead it was only Jason taking photo after photo of the girl-in-command in her makeshift uniform and with indicator in hand.

“Get it off my face Todd!” she cried out trying to shove him off, but failing at dealing with the brick Jason was.

“Not a chance. You look ridiculous. And all that for the demon’s spawn? My god! He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Careful or I’ll think you’re telling me a compliment.”

“Compliment? No, no. It’s merely an observation of your poor choice in men. Both your boyfriend and those gathered here…”

“HEY!” Dick reacted almost immediately. No way he was going to let anyone, even his adoptive brother shit-talk him “I beg your pardon! I believe Y/N has an exquisite taste in men!”

“Just because you are here?” Jason mocked, giving Dick a smirk.

“Oh-my-god….” Y/N rolled her eyes throwing hands in the air “Could you please stop that…? I got a whole presentation about ideas for the party and –”

“A presentation?” While Dick and Jason did not give the girl any attention, at the mention of possible slides Tim became awfully animated. “What kind of slides? How many?”

“Oh-my-god…” She muttered again, this time covering face with hands gathering herself “God give me patience for those man-children.” One deep inhale and exhale on her part and she was ready to proceed. “SHUT UP!!” she yelled at the top of her lungs “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!”

None of the men has ever seen her like that. Reddened on the face with fury in eyes and clenched fists. Clearly just a thought of Damian was making her spin out of control.

“Y/N--?”

“I’m about to tell you how it’s going to go from now on.” She hissed with an unobjectionable tone. “First, you’re going to sit on your pretty asses.” her gaze travelled to Dick knowing the attention in this particular moment will make him listen “Second, you’re going to stop throwing veiled insults.”

“But-“ Jason tried to chime in and object.

“I don’t fucking care if your inner Chandler Bing is coming to voice, you shut it or I will.”

“I’m not scared of you Y/N. You are just a –”

In a blink of an eye she was next to him, with one finger on his neck.

“You got about 100 vascular plexus in your body and so it happens I know how to put pressure on all of them.” She hissed before pulling back and taking on an innocent look “now, will you keep quiet, Jason?”

“I’m still not scared…” he muttered leaning on the doorframe with a frown and pout of a kicked puppy.

“Thank you very much. As for the plan, thirdly, you’ll stop asking me about my PowerPoint thing and actually watch it.”

“I’ve been dying to watch it the whole time!”

“ Shut up Tim!” came from three pair of mouths.

“Hey! Why am I being the only one yelled at by everyone? It’s harassment! Not fair!”

Y/N exhaled deeply, making a mental note to herself to never get those boys in men bodies in one room ever again and started explaining the details of her surprise party. Clearly, even despite knowing Damian’s family for a while she did not expect it would be this hard to get boys to cooperate.

However, per aspera ad astra, she managed to present her idea of a gift, the attractions and all the surprise party.

Obliging the boys under the  pain of sudden and unexpected death, or at least mutilation, to keep their mouths shut.  And since she was the girlfriend of a teenage assassin – this time no one dared to say a word.

***

Obviously the surprise party included working on it undercover. Therefore Y/N was spending more time with Jason, Dick and Tim to the detriment of her hours with Damian. Sneaking around. Dismissing or getting off lightly of answering his questions.

And he got suspicious, it was Damian Wayne Al-Ghul after all.

The young boy, spend hours and days fighting his natural urge to follow her when she was walking out the apartment with no explanation. Tie her to the chair, light the lamp in her face and force the information out of her.

But she was his girlfriend, not a villain.

So, getting too much into his head he came out to one plausible explanation – she was slowly letting him down. Not cutting the tie right away, because that was not who she was, but discouraging him.

“You’re going out again?” he asked, capably hiding the disappointment seeing her putting on shoes and jacket.  Quickly he put the bouquet of flowers he bought for her behind his back, almost crushing the innocent buds, while simultaneously wondering if calling off reservation at her fav restaurant for the fourth time this month would get him kicked out of the VIP list. “I thought we could have a night out and—“

“Sorry, babe.” She smiled apologetically pecking his lips, grabbing the bag and already one foot out the door. “I gotta go do this thing that I told you about!”

“What thing---”

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be back late. See you around buddy!”

Buddy?!

Did she just--? Holy fucking shit. Now Damian was sure, she stopped loving him.

And since he couldn’t watch her walk out his life like that, it was him, who was going to walk out of hers.

***

She run.

She run as fast as she could, hoping that if by some miracle she got into Flash’s speed the last fifteen minutes conversation with Damian would just turn out to be a dream. Or maybe she’ll find herself back in time, making sure it never happened in the first place.

What did she ever do to him to be treated like that?

Working her ass off to prepare a party? Using all her abilities to get people to help? Miraculously finding Damian’s friends from the past and even getting Jon to attend?

Fuck this shit! Fuck the life!

And out of all day’s in year he choose his own birthday to break up with her!

Fucking piece of shit, demon’s spawn, undeserving of a single second of the last 6 years she gave him.

Jason was fucking right as tragic as it sounded.

She burst into the Wayne Manor, where the boys were hanging the last decorations and immediately started ripping the garlands off and throwing tableware off the table.

“Y/N!!” Dick jumped off the ladder and rushed her direction, but it was Jason who reached her first. Almost tackling her to the floor, fighting against the rage of nails, teeth and screams coming out of her mouth.

“Stop it!”

“LET FUCKING GO OFF ME! THIS PARTY AIN;T HAPPENING UNLESS IT’S OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“Better be careful with those words, cause in this family you get more than one chance at life.” Jason chuckled

“LET FUCKING GO!” she was struggling against his iron grip while Dick and Tim kneeled next to them

“No.” Jason responded calmly. “No, I’m not letting go off you.”

“None of us do, Y/N.” Tim added, moving a little bit closer, careful to not get a shoe in his face or something like that.

“What happened?” Dick asked calmly “come on, it can’t be that bad…”

“He broke up with me…” she sobbed. Not angry or furious anymore, but fully immersing in sadness. “Damian broke up with me…”

“HE WHAT?!” Dick yelled almost ready to start ripping off the decorations himself, successfully held back by Tim slapping him in the back of his head.

“She just told you. Can’t you see how shaken she is. And your making her say it again just for the sake of it? Get yourself together, Dick.”

“Sorry…”

“I don’t know what happened! I tried to talk and—”

“Talking to Damian about feelings, huh! Great idea Y/N.”

“GRAYSON!” Tim yelled slapping him again.

 “Sorry…”

“I hate to break it to you guys, but it seems like the man of the day has just arrived.” Tim moved to the window where he saw the reflection of the car lights.

“WHAT!?”

“Don’t yell at me! Bruce brought him! It was your plan Y/N!!”

“Oh so one time Bruce could be late he’s actually on time?!”

“Again-stop yelling at me!”

“He cannot see me here! Not like this! Not crying cause he’s going to think that I –“

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAMIAN!

“—care….”

The ending of the sentence was not supposed to escape her mouth, but not caring about her intentions it did. Maybe it was the shock of Bruce entering Wayne Manor with his youngest son, almost convinced the surprise party was already prepared and they could celebrate.

Instead the two were met with four people, caught like deer in the headlights, crying y/n, Jason on the floor holding her for comfort, enraged Dick and a little scared Tim without a plan.

As far away from their usual selves as possible.

“Are we too early or—” Bruce started, but before he could finish the sentence, the nearby ladder started to totter, hooking over the poorly hanged b-day banner and –

“NO!!” Dick yelled and rushed towards it, but tripping over Jason’s leg, fighting desperately to gain back balance and stepping on Y/N’s hand in the process. She yelled and it scared Tim who took a step back, crashing into Dick. Seeing all that Jason rushed to his feet trying to catch the material that was already falling down, dangerously close to the table and the candlestick. In the commotion no one noticed Alfred the cat, who obliviously entered the room, only to almost be flattened.

As the poor animal rushed to Y/N’s side, making her reach arms to give cat some resemblance of shelter, Dick finally managed to grab the banner.

“I got it! YES! Once more I am the one to save the day and--- AH!” he slipped on the floor cause clearly Alfred the cat left a remnants of his fear there, sliding all the way up to the table.

“NO!” Y/N yelled trying to save any of the dish that was already flying to her face.

“NO!” Jason cried out trying to snatch the decoration, getting tangled in it.

“NO!” Tim shrieked as the candled set the tablecloth on fire, that quickly spread to the leg of his trousers. And as the stimuli activated already downloaded plan in his brain, he reached for the extinguisher, profusely spraying everything (and everyone) with white powder.

Disaster.

Y/N, Dick, Jason and Tim were now all on the floor. Dirty, injured and/or humiliated, turned into giant, living, walking snowmen all on Bruce and Damian’s eyes.

“Not again….” Bruce whined.

“Happy birthday Damian!”

“SHUT UP GRAYSON!” the rest of three organizers yelled getting off the floor feeling worse than ever.

“What is all this?” Damian asked with a slight frown. “Or rather… what was all of this.”

“This is your—” Dick started

“AHHHHH!”

“Y/N, we know you are frustrated but please try to calm down—”

“This was supposed to be your stupid birthday party you idiot!” she yelled stumping towards Damian “Hear me?” he poke a finger into his chest. “Your. Stupid. Birthday. Party.”

“My- my what?” Damian stuttered grabbing her wrist only now realizing what day it was. Honestly after the morning break up with Y/N he couldn’t care less about the clock or calendar.

“Your—”

“Wait, wait. Hold back. Is this why you were acting so suspicious?”

“sus-suspicious? Is that what you thought?” her eyes grew wide once more and the steam to hit him blew off instantly

“You were just planning and preparing a party?” Damian asked realizing how much of an idiot he was.

“Yes”!

“So you didn’t stop loving me?” the hint of hope showed up in his eyes

“So you did not stop loving me?” Y/N repeated.

“How could I ever—”

She never gave him a chance to finish that sentence pressing her lips to his, not caring who was watching. And if anyone dared to tease, Damian’s katana would be used for something. And the knowledge of locations of nerve plexuses in the human body.

“Um….” Tim muttered feeling a little awkward in the situation. “Should we--?”

“Mhm. We should.” Dick agreed and noiselessly, like silently as befits a vigilante they fled the room.

***

Meanwhile, Damian and Y/n were sitting on the window sill amongst the mess of a b-day party.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out the way I planned—” she sighed.

“You kidding? It was the best thing ever.”

“Because you got the gift in clearing the misunderstanding between us?” she smiled and interlaced their fingers.

“no! because of watching my brothers making fools out of themselves.”

“Damian!” she patted his head.

“OUCH! Ok, fine! Fine! It was because I got you back!”

“This was forced, such confession doesn’t count!” she feigned offence.

“Well technically, we never really broke up, so I couldn’t get you back.”

“Well, technically-“ she tried to find a smart way of the situation, but he cut her off.

“Well, non-technically, you got cake in your hair. And on your face And in your lips. And I haven’t even tried that treat. So how about we stop talking so I could get a chance at it?”

He liked the cake.

A lot.

@keidylovestacos @nocturnal-onlooker - I'm taking the liberty of tagging you guys :)

[sarahscribbles]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞…𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟗𝐤

𝐀𝐍: 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐜. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It’s the faint, purposeful thump of leather boots on stone that pulls you somewhat lethargically from the crinkled tome before you. A deep breath, a relieving stretch of tired muscles, an exhausted slump over the ornate marble table. An empty moment passes, followed blissfully by several more, and then reality crashes back around you like a peal of thunder. 

Fuck.

The roaring fire that had been dancing and crackling merrily in the grate to your right has long since turned to ash, and the library is now illuminated in a pearly glow rather than a golden glimmer. 

You’ve done it again. 

Groggily, you run your hands over your tired face, caring little that they’re likely spotted with ink stains. You had promised him this wouldn’t happen anymore. He had been vocal on how it displeased him to find you shivering in the library at absurd hours of the night, and you had promised that you would bring your studies to your chamber once the moon began to climb. 

And you had kept that promise.

Well, until tonight. 

Tonight, the High Valyrian text has kept you stubbornly in your seat. It’s complex and dense and has evaded your blossoming translation skills for the better part of the evening. You had desperately wanted to make your husband proud - you had envisioned yourself returning triumphantly to your chambers able to boast that, even with your own patchy translation skills, you had managed to untangle the seemingly endless sentences.

The gods, it seems, are not looking upon you with favour.

A fresh wave of irritation bubbles within you. The text before you feels mocking in its complexity and you’re briefly overcome with the urge to tear the delicate pages from the spine.

The burning vexation with your husband’s mother tongue, though, doesn’t stay with you long.

The heavy footsteps that had broken through your studious stupor continue to grow louder as they approach the doors, and, unsurprisingly, it takes only moments before your heart feels as though it’s trying to echo their rhythm.

Because those footsteps are familiar and they can mean only one thing. 

Aemond has come looking for you.

The knowledge of such a simple fact sends excitement surging through your blood like a bolt of lightning. In your mind's eye you can picture your husband prowling around the castle in search of you, and growing increasingly frustrated when you continue to evade him. In truth, you really hadn’t intended to displease him, but, given how you’ve quickly become the prize at the end of a hunt, it’s impossible not to eagerly anticipate your discovery. 

You’re close to giddy when the colossal doors to the library finally heave open, but you force your eyes back to the pages strewn haphazardly across the table, feigning a deep interest in the intricate text. Even when the doors ease closed and Aemond’s determined footsteps come to a gradual stop at the opposite end of the table you still don’t look up, biting back the smile that’s threatening to unfurl across your lips. 

The seconds continue to tick by, the tendentious quiet of the library only broken by the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest. Under your husband’s heavy gaze - because you can feel how intently he’s watching you - you fight the urge to fidget, to nervously tap at the table, to do anything to channel the excitement that’s furiously rushing through you. 

Of course, it’s Aemond who finally breaks the silence. 

“The hour grows late and our bed grows cold,” he says in that silken smooth voice. “Haven’t I told you how it displeases me to find you here so late? I do not relish the thought of my wife freezing to death in a library chair.” 

The excitement bubbling through you finally escapes in a loud burst of laughter. You raise your head to look at him, but your smile only grows wider at the serious expression on his handsome face. “We are far from the ice of the North, husband, and the fire has only just died. It would seem I have cheated death once more.”

Aemond’s face remains impassive, but you don’t miss how his lips quirk with the ghost of an amused smile. His eye stays trained on you as he walks the length of the table, only stopping once he’s close enough to reach out and take your hand in his. The warmth of it seeps pleasantly into your cool skin, and, with that, you know he’s caught you.

“Do you think me a fool?” he asks quietly, tracing his thumb slowly over your knuckles. 

“I do not,” you answer, suddenly now craving the warmth of his embrace.

He hums a response, then turns his attention to the array of books covering most of the marble topped table. “And what is it that is keeping my wife so infuriatingly out of my reach tonight?” He asks, picking up a book at random to scan the page. “High Valyrian? I hadn’t realised you were so inclined, my love.” 

You offer him your sweetest smile. “How else am I to whisper filth in your ear when we break bread with our neighbours? I know how tiresome you find the ceremony of Court, I only wish to make it more tolerable as any good wife would.” 

Aemond smirks and tosses the heavy tome carelessly back atop the others. “Indeed? And how far has my little scholar progressed in her endeavour?” 

“A fair amount, though some parts are proving to be more challenging than others,” you admit. 

It’s impossible to hide the tinge of shame that wraps around your words. Your husband speaks High Valyrian beautifully and with an ease that you’ve long been jealous of. Each word of the ancient language drops from his lips as naturally as rain from the skies, all while your own meager attempts have been clunky and awkward. You know Aemond would never taunt you for it, but the embarrassment and frustration still burn like dragonfire within you. 

“Mhm.” It’s the only response he offers before placing your hand back in your lap. 

With the practiced ease of a seasoned predator, your husband takes the few remaining steps to stand directly behind your chair and places two large hands upon your shoulders. “Mayhaps you need a tutor? It would be a sin to let such a brilliant mind go to waste, no?” He poses the question quietly, almost innocently, but you know him well enough to hear the not so subtle ripple of debauchery beneath every word. 

You shift slightly on the velvet cushions as a pleasant tingle gradually fizzes to life between your thighs. 

“Mayhaps I do,” you answer thoughtfully, fighting not to react when the soft pads of his thumbs begin to trace the exposed skin of your shoulders. “Who do you propose, my prince?”

It’s a ridiculous question, you know, but you’ll happily play his game tonight. Already, your need for him is burning a fiery trail beneath your skin. Tonight you’ll be his, however he wants you.

As if there were any other option.

You hear the soft rustle of clothing, feel the familiar caress of blonde hair on your shoulder, and then Aemond’s forehead is resting against your temple. “Someone who understands how to properly motivate you.” His teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, and you’re powerless to stop the breathless moan that floats like a dream from your lungs. 

Your head hits the gilded back of the chair in tandem with one hand curling around the edges of the mahogany armrest. The other tangles loosely into Aemond’s hair in an attempt to guide his lips back to your neck, the eager tilt of your head a silent plea to your husband to begin his assault. It matters little that you’re in the library, that anyone could easily push their way through those doors and catch your shameless tryst. Such is your need for Aemond you’d happily let the entire kingdom watch as he made you his. 

The tip of his regal nose traces a faint line along the sensitive skin of your neck, and you hold your breath in wait for the press of his lips on your throat, but they don’t come. Your brow furrows, followed almost instantly by a soft whine tumbling quietly into the silence of the library. All until you feel your husband’s hot breath against your cheek. 

“Translate,” Aemond murmurs softly in your ear. “Kostilus bodmagho nyke, valzȳrys.”

Your mind grasps quickly at the threads of words, hastily weaving them together in what you pray is the right answer. “Please teach me, husband.” 

“Mm, good,” he replies simply, and your reward is the feel of his lips on your neck as he sucks his mark into your skin. 

Your sharp cry of pleasure echoes through the columns of the library, and melts swiftly into a shameful moan when you feel the wet heat of your husband’s tongue against your skin. Your hand twists deeper into his hair in another desperate attempt to pull him closer, because you always need him closer. Aemond is your heaven and your hell, he’s your every sinful thought brought to life, and you’d happily drown in him if given the chance. 

“Husband, please,” you breathe out, your head now fully resting on your shoulder and eyes fluttering closed. 

You never tire of your husband’s affections, whether they be brief and fleeting or whether they have you moaning his name long into the night. Each touch of his hands or press of his lips only makes you crave him more.

You can never get enough of him, but, this time, your desperate pleas go unanswered. 

Aemond untangles himself from you before you can draw breath to object. Instantly, you miss the comforting warmth and familiar weight of him draped around your shoulders, and you turn to him with betrayal shining in your eyes. Your husband only reaches for your hand with that perpetual smirk curling on his lips. With ease, he pulls you from your nest of cushions in a twirl of skirts so he can settle back comfortably in the chair. Just as easily he tugs you forward, guiding you closer until you can go no further, until you have no choice but to straddle him and feel the heavy weight of his hands resting low on your hips. 

“Mhm. Much better,” he purrs, pressing against your hips to slide you closer. 

The scent of him wraps around you like a favourite blanket - smoke and leather and, somewhere deep underneath, the faint, sweet smell of cinnamon. 

It’s Aemond. 

It’s home.

Loosely, you drape your arms around his neck, letting your fingers idly play with errant strands of blonde hair. “I must admit that I have never known my tutors to be so familiar with their students,” you tease him, watching the smirk grow on his face. 

Aemond’s lilac eye twinkles softly at you, and then his thumb and forefinger reach out to gently pinch your chin. “I should like to think not, wife, or they may find themselves soon without their heads.”

Your fingers curl into the soft material of his jerkin as something hot and primal stirs to life in the pit of your stomach. This is no idle jest; your husband is dangerously possessive of what he perceives to be his, and if some poor soul were to get too familiar…

His possessiveness doesn’t frighten you. Rather, it makes you crave him so deeply that you feel the ache right down to your bones. You need this man like you need the air that fills your lungs, and, instinctively, you begin to rock against the thick material covering his thighs. 

Aemond chuckles low in his throat, curling his hands tightly round your hips to hold you in place. His grip is like steel - hard and unyielding - and you know that tonight your release will not be easily granted.

He studies you silently and with such intensity that you wonder if he can hear the pounding of your heart. You feel his fingers dig into your hips - a warning in itself - and then he shifts his thigh beneath you at just the right angle to brush teasingly against your aching core. 

“Aemond, please!”

He quirks an eyebrow at your plea, but, infuriatingly, makes no move to offer any relief. “Zaldrīzes,” he says quietly, holding your gaze with that beautiful lilac eye. When several moments pass and fail to say a word, that familiar smirk pulls across his face. “Mhm. Mayhaps you tire after your hours of study, wife.” He makes as though to lift you from his lap, but, at the final second, the last piece of the puzzle slots into place. 

“No!” You cry out, not the least bit ashamed at how desperate you sound. “Dragon. That’s what you said, isn’t it?” 

Aemond relaxes back against the chair, lilac eye flashing with satisfaction. “Good,” he says simply, and you feel his large hands run along the length of your back and along your shoulders until he’s cupping your head firmly between them

His lips are warm as they meet yours and the sheer force of his kiss takes you by surprise. You melt into him easily, letting your own hunger for this man guide your lips. Your fingers tangle greedily into his hair, and every inch of you screams more, more, more.  Aemond’s kiss is slow and deep and lasts nowhere near long enough. You clutch at him and swallow a whine when he finally pulls away, peering at him with desperate, pleading eyes. 

The taste of him lingers on your lips - faint traces of honeyed wine - and you want nothing more than to get drunk on him, to have so much of him it addles your senses and strikes you dumb.

You want Aemond Targaryen, more than you’ve wanted anything in your life. 

“As I said, wife, someone who knows how to motivate you.” The soft pad of his thumb traces your cheek, and you can’t help but instinctively lean into his touch. “Dārys,” he then says, letting his hand fall to rest on the curve of your shoulder. 

“King,” you answer before the last syllable leaves his tongue, so eager are you for the coming reward. 

This time, Aemond’s praise doesn’t come. Instead, his lips latch onto the sensitive skin of your jaw, kissing and sucking until the silence of the library is filled with your moans of his name. His kisses are warm and slow and, when you feel the wet press of his tongue against your pulse point, you’re shamelessly arching into him in search of more.

“Jaqiarzir,” he continues, beginning to suck another mark into your flushed skin.

Your mind is half gone to the lavender haze of lust. All you know is the softness of Aemond’s lips, the firmness of his thighs underneath you, the silky feel of his hair twisted around your fingers. Against that, everything else feels so terribly unimportant, but a gentle nip to your jaw reminds you that your husband still expects an answer. 

“Glory,” you half moan, feeling a burst of pride surge through your blood when Aemond hums against your neck. 

“Clever girl,” he murmurs, taking your chin back between his thumb and forefinger to reward you with a single slow, deep kiss.

Once again, he pulls away long before you’re ready, and his eye is filled with a quiet dare to challenge him. 

You know better. 

“You’re becoming a tease, husband,” you settle on saying, hearing the evident breathlessness in your own voice. 

“If my love would prefer a different means of instruction, then I am nothing but willing to hear so,” Aemond replies smoothly, his one eye twinkling with mirth.

You fight to keep a neutral expression, but all too easily a grin is curling across your lips. “I would not dream of questioning your methods, my prince,” you reply coyly.

His hands have returned to settle on your hips, and somehow he manages to pull you closer still. The brief friction of his breeches against your smallclothes is equal parts glorious and torturous, and is enough to pull a deep, quiet groan from your lips. You aren’t sure how long Aemond intends to play his little game, but the strings of your resolve are pulled taut and threatening to snap with each passing second. 

Something he no doubt already knows. 

“Mhm,” Aemond hums, his face unreadable. 

You feel his hands once again slide along the length of your back until they reach the high neckline of your gown. He pauses for only a heartbeat, then begins to unlace your bodice with practiced ease, expertly pulling each lace loose until the rich burgundy fabric falls soundlessly from your shoulders. 

You inhale deeply as the cool night air hits your skin, peaking your nipples and sending a trail of goose pimples along your arms. You’re in nothing more than your silk chemise and, when your eyes flick back to your husband, he’s gazing at you intently, almost as if…

“Keep going. Please,” you say softly. 

Aemond makes the same short work of your chemise until it pools loosely around your waist, and then you’re bare before him. His eye trails appreciatively over your naked breasts, a new hunger sparking within it at the sight of your naked flesh. 

As though he hasn’t seen you like this a thousand times before. 

“Gevie,” he all but whispers, taking a nipple and rolling it firmly between thumb and forefinger. 

You cry out sharply at the heady mix of pleasure and pain, of teasing and torment, and your husband smirks proudly at the response his touch elicits from you. 

“Please, Aemond, I beg you.” Your voice drips with desperation, but you no longer care. You can feel the slickness of your thighs beneath the folds of your gown, and feel the need for this man burning beneath every pore you possess. 

If he wants you to beg, you’ll fall to your knees. 

He cocks his head mockingly to the side and gives your nipple another cruel twist. “Your lesson has only started, wife. Would you give up so easily?”

A frustrated curse slips from your lips before you can swallow it, one that you know Aemond hears but chooses to ignore. You want to say yes. You want to curse this damn language to the Seven Hells and take your husband to bed, but your stubborn pride rears its insufferable head. 

“No. I want you to keep going,” you say, arching your back to press more of your breast into his hand. 

“A wise choice, my love,” Aemond murmurs, then reaches forward to trail a path of slow, wet kisses along your collarbone. When you sigh audibly in content he wraps an arm snugly around your waist to press you closer, and soon his lips are moving against your skin again. “Vhagar's kipagīros iksis hae nēdenka hae issa handsome, se zȳhon ābrazȳrys iksis se olvie fortunate riña isse se sīkuda Dārȳti.”

You hear the soft drawl of Aemond’s voice, hear every hard consonant and soft vowel, but the words of Valryian barely register in your lust addled mind. Vaguely, you note that he’s said something about Vhagar, but with with the teasing press of his lips along your collarbone and the tops of your breasts, you find that you really couldn’t care less. 

You want him to devour you right here in the library, but your husband is waiting patiently for an answer. 

“Can…can you please repeat?” you ask when your senses slowly begin to return. Aemond quickly obliges and this time you try in vain to grasp at every word. “Vhagar is…handsome and…fortunate…because of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

You know you’re wrong before the last word leaves your mouth, but, in your current state of arousal, you’re proud to have even gotten that far. 

The confirmation comes in another cruel twist of an already sensitive nipple. “Wrong,” Aemond tells you softly, driving the point home with another sharp nip to your neck.

The raw need for him is simmering in your veins and pulsing between your legs, threatening to turn you half mad unless you get your fill of him, but all you can do is roll your hips against his thigh, though it doesn’t grant you even a modicum of relief. 

Aemond is in charge tonight, and you’ll feel that euphoric release only when he allows it. 

“Seven Hells,” you groan, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder. The cool leather is a welcome relief against your flushed skin and Aemond allows you a moment of respite, but mercy is not on his mind.

You feel the tip of his nose trace softly along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, and then his warm breath is tickling the shell of your ear. “Again, wife.”

A shaky sigh leaves your lips, but you know you have no choice but to obey. “Vhagar…Vhagar is handsome and - fuck, Aemond!”

You arch into him until your breasts are close to crushed against his chest, because now his hand is beneath your gown and those long, practiced fingers are teasing your aching cunt through the material of your smallclothes. 

“Keep going,” he commands firmly, running a single fingertip firmly over your clit.

You swallow the whimper that’s beginning to rise in your throat. “Vhagar is handsome and the Seven Kingdoms are fortunate.” The words spill from you like a sudden downpour and, for just a moment, you bask in the blissful feel of your husband touching you where you burn for him. 

His touch is like water to a burning flame but, as quickly as his hand has slipped beneath the layers of your gown, it’s just as easily gone. This time, you can’t suppress a whine. 

“Wrong again,” Aemond says, taking your chin back between his thumb and forefinger. “Mayhaps I am not motivating you enough, my love.” 

“Your motivation is cruel,” you answer back petulantly, although you’re already missing the feeling of his lips on your skin and the taunting tease of a single finger. 

Aemond’s soft smirk only grows. “Mhm,” he hums, and then you’re suddenly in motion. 

His hands are curled securely beneath your thighs as he raises you from his lap and sets you atop the library table. From your vantage point you see the mischievous twinkle in his lilac eye as two large hands hold your legs apart, and your jaw falls slack when he then falls to his knees between them.

It’s a deliciously sinful sight that goes straight to your head. Aemond Targaryen, perhaps the most feared dragonrider and skilled swordsman in King's Landing, is on his knees before you and gazing at you as though you’re an oasis in the desert. 

“Gevie,” you whisper, echoing his earlier compliment. 

Even in the half light of the library you catch the faint blush that stains his cheeks, but his face remains impassive. “Sweet words will get you nowhere, wife. Again,” he says, and presses his lips to the inside of your knee. 

A shameless groan fills the quiet space as your fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table, It’s simultaneously too much and nowhere near enough. You hear Aemond’s elegant words of Valyrian, but only a handful more register in your lust-addled mind as his lips continue their journey along your thigh. Your translation comes forward on a shaky breath and is broken by moans and yelps as Aemond sucks bruise after bruise into the soft skin of your thigh. 

You bask in the feel of it - because little feels better than your husband marking you as his - and when he doesn’t stop, you believe that this time you’ve actually gotten it right. 

Aemond’s slow path of kisses continue until you feel the brush of his hair against your lower stomach. You inhale deeply, preparing for his strong hands to make short work of your smallclothes. The anticipation makes your hips tilt expectantly, waiting for the glorious feel of his warm mouth, his skilled tongue…

“Wrong,” he says softly, pulling his head back from between your quivering thighs. 

You’re ready to combust into a million little pieces with how great your need is, and the last of your pride slips through your fingers like freshly spun silk. “Aemond, please! I cannot bear it! Take me…please.”

Your begging is his weakness and you wait for him to crumble, but as your eyes meet his lilac one, you see only a steely determination. 

“Shh shh shh,” Aemond soothes you, running the pad of his thumb over your knee. Yes, you can, ñuha prūmia. Now try again.” 

Your husband repeats himself once more, this time placing intentional emphasis on the words that are still evading you. Slowly, the intricate words of Valyrian slot into place, the web of tangled knots unravels, and you can’t help but laugh at Aemond’s choice of words.

There are many reasons why you love the man between your thighs - his bravery, his protectiveness, his determination to name a few - but never has one person been able to make you laugh so easily. Others may see a monster, you only see the man who holds your heart in the palm of his hand. 

“You are demon, my love,” you scold him lightly, feeling him smirk against your inner thigh. “Vhagar’s rider is as brave as he is handsome, and his wife is the most fortunate lady in the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“Sȳz riña,” Aemond praises you, all while pushing your thighs wider apart. 

Warm hands slide over your thighs to your smallclothes, and one swift pull rips them roughly from your body. 

And then you finally feel the warm wetness of his mouth against your aching cunt. Tonight, he doesn’t tease, but instantly begins spelling out promises with his limber tongue.

You’ll hold him to every one of them.

Aemond licks a firm, slow line along the dripping length of your cunt, making sure to empathise each lewd noise of your arousal. You bite your lip as electricity crackles beneath your skin, trying as best you can to stifle the sounds that are bubbling in your throat.

Something your husband is having none of. 

“I want to hear you, my love,” he says from where he’s nestled between your thighs. He squeezes them roughly, informing you that his words are a warning and not a request.

The sound of his voice coaxes your eyes down, and you fleetingly see the shine of your own arousal coating his top lip. 

“Seven fucking hells!” You cry out, twisting a hand tightly into Aemond’s silver hair to push him closer. 

Your husband smirks and doesn’t take his lilac eye off yours as he buries his tongue back in your cunt.

It’s like throwing a flame to a funeral pyre.

Pleasure white and hot explodes through every inch of you, so blindingly intense that you have to throw a hand on the table behind for support. “Husband, please! Keep doing that!!” you plead roughly, beginning to grind against Aemond’s face in a desperate search for release.

He moans against your cunt and tightens his grips on your thighs until you’re sure there’ll be tiny bruises along your skin tomorrow, but you’ll welcome every single one.

“You’ll be the death of me, Aemond Targaryen,” you sigh, letting your head fall back on your shoulders to bask in every second of pleasure. 

You hear his appreciative hum from between your legs, and then his tongue settles wondrously on your clit, licking and lapping like a man starved. With each swirl and flick of his talented tongue the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter, promising a blinding release on your husband’s mouth. 

“Aemond…Seven Hells, Aemond…I’m so close, please,” you plead with him, arching your back as the first tendrils of release begin to flick teasingly through your core. 

Your husband responds by pulling you closer to his mouth, clamping you tightly to him until you’re balancing beautifully on the very edge of pleasure. 

Less than a minute later a tidal wave of pleasure pulls you fully beneath its surf. 

The force of your release sends your eyes rolling in your head and Aemond’s name leaves your lips like a sacred prayer, echoing wildly off the high ceilings of the library. You care little - let all of King's Landing and beyond know that you belong to this man body, mind and soul. 

Aemond’s tongue doesn’t leave your cunt until you’re panting and mewling above him, practically boneless atop the table in the wake of a shattering release. He presses a quick path of soft kisses to your inner thigh, fixes your skirts around your legs, and climbs to his feet while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“I believe that a successful lesson. What say you, wife?” he says with a smirk, fixing you with his good eye and reaching out to pull the bodice of your dress back over your shoulders. 

You shiver at his chaste touch. “I think another may be in order. It’s of the utmost importance that I master this language, wouldn’t you agree?” you tease him back, wrapping heavy arms around his shoulders. 

Aemond steps between your thighs and rests his forehead on yours. “Mayhaps a longer lesson is needed then?” he murmurs quietly.

You don’t fight the smile that unfurls across your lips. “I wouldn’t dare to question your methods, my prince.” 

He answers with a small smile and a quick peck to your lips. “Mhm. In our chambers would be wise. I fear your next lesson may last throughout the night,” he says, each word loaded with filthy promise. 

You take his offered hand and slide from the table top on shaky legs, feeling fresh excitement begin to bubble in your veins. “Then we must make haste, husband. Every second counts when such an important task is at stake.”

[etrsilk]

Hi ! Can I request what would do the main four if you were catcalled?

Today I have been catcalled and it's made me feel so bad and embarrassed.. Anyway I love so much you're a headcanon !

₊✩‧₊˚ ᡣ𐭩 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ⇝ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 .ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙨: 𝘒𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘢,𝘎𝘰𝘯,𝘒𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘬𝘢,𝘓𝘦𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘰

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 — 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴

˗ˏˋ ➛ 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧,𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 (?)

⎝ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚:: firstly I'm so sorry it took so long!! As I said in one of my posts I had to study for a very important exam that I had on Friday and then I had to take a little break! But now it's good I'm back !! And I'm sorry for what happened to you...take care of yourself I hope you get better 🫶🏻 and thank you very much ♡♡ while writing I realized that it looked more like one shots than headcanons but I hope you like it anyway!! ♡

 —𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

You had just left your candy store and were on your way home when a stranger approached you and started making inappropriate remarks.

"Hey beautiful, you know you’re really sexy with those big breasts?"

You suddenly stopped and let go of your boyfriend's hand. Killua turned around with a piercing, icy gaze and a murderous intent in his eyes.

The stranger, surprised by Killua’s serious and threatening tone, took a few steps back, laughing nervously.

"Hey... it's okay, man. I’m just joking. I was just giving your girlfriend a compliment, chill."

Killua, still with his dark assassin’s gaze, activated his claws. He wasn’t going to use them or harm the stranger; he just wanted to terrify him.

"That’s not a compliment. It’s disrespectful. Say one more inappropriate thing, and you’ll regret it."

The stranger, feeling the murderous aura emanating from Killua, continued to back away until he bumped into a trash can.

"Pfff, I’m outta here." He said, raising his hand to seem cool. He then quickly walked away.

Killua let out a small, mocking, proud laugh, then turned to you to see how you were doing. He took your head in his hands and kissed your forehead.

"Are you okay?"

You remained silent.

"He’s just a jerk, you know that?"

"Yes, I know. Let’s keep going."

"That said, he’s not wrong, you are sexy... ouch, I was just kidding!!"

 —𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐈𝐊𝐀ꫂ ၴႅၴ

You were having a quiet morning when a stranger approached you and started making inappropriate remarks towards you.

"Hey beautiful, you know you’re really sexy with those big breasts?"

Kurapika widened his eyes and squeezed your hand tightly.

"Ouch, Kurapika, you're hurting me... just ignore him, okay? It's nothing."

"Oh, she's ignoring me..."

...

"I know you heard me, princess..."

...

"Just answer my question; don’t you have a phone number to give me? With your boyfriend's build, you must not be very satisfied in bed. You’ll see what it's like to—"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before a punch sent him to the ground. Kurapika, his eyes red with anger.

"You should be careful about what you say."

"Damn, man, who do you think you are—"

He noticed the hatred in Kurapika's eyes and stopped short.

"Uh... it's not a big deal, I'm leaving anyway. She's not even that sexy"

He quickly walked away, visibly intimidated. Kurapika watched him go, then turned to you, his expression softening as soon as he met your eyes.

"Are you okay, my love? I'm sorry you had to hear that..."

He kissed your hand before taking it and squeezing it gently.

"Everything’s fine, thank you for putting him in his place, Kurapika."

 —𝐆𝐎𝐍ꫂ ၴႅၴ

You were at a fair, the lights of the rides, the laughter, and the screams of joy creating a cheerful atmosphere. Everything was perfect until a stranger began making inappropriate remarks towards you.

"Hey beautiful, you know you’re really sexy with those big breasts?"

Gon, holding the stuffed animal he had worked so hard to win for you, sees his joyful expression gradually fade.

"What did you just say?"

The stranger, thinking Gon is just a simple teenager, laughs at the situation.

"Relax, kid. I was just giving your girlfriend a compliment."

"A compliment? You should apologize right now."

"And if I don't, what are you going to do?"

Gon clenches his fists, his aura becoming more intense, but he tries to stay calm.

"I won't repeat myself. Apologize."

"No-"

Gon punches the stranger squarely. Everyone around starts watching you. Gon grabs your hand and you both run to escape the security guards chasing you.

A few minutes after escaping, you stop near a supermarket and burst into laughter. In the end, everything turned out fine!

"I'm so sorry someone spoke to you like that."

"It’s nothing, thank you for defending me."

You stand on your tiptoes to reach his level and kiss him tenderly.

"My superman..."

He blushes before taking your hand.

 —𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎ꫂ ၴႅၴ

You are quietly chatting on the terrace of a café when a stranger approaches and starts making inappropriate remarks towards you.

"Hey beautiful, you know you’re really sexy with those big breasts?"

Leorio furrows his brow and freezes.

"What did you just say??"

He shouts in a loud, authoritative voice.

"Your girlfriend is really hot. Should we share her?"

Thinking Leorio is harmless, the stranger steps closer with a sneer.

"Oh, relax. I was just giving a compliment."

"That's not a compliment, it's disrespect. You better apologize right now. Didn't your mother ever teach you to respect women?"

The stranger chuckles but begins to sense the seriousness of the situation as he sees Leorio's unyielding and threatening gaze.

"Get lost."

The stranger, intimidated by Leorio's stare and tone, quickly retreats, casting a nervous glance back. Leorio turns to you with a worried expression.

"Damn, the next time someone talks to you like that…"

You grab his hand and envelop it in yours.

"It’s okay, Leorio. It's nothing. Let's go home and forget about it."

Leorio smiles gently before kissing you, and you walk away hand in hand.

—English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[starlightandsouls]

Yours to Save, Yours to Guard

Part 2 of Yours to Have, Yours to Break

Summary: Azriel and Reader pick up the pieces of Cassian's mistake.

Warnings: angst (?), severe panic attack

A/N: it's finally here guys. I actually loved how this one turned out, filled to the brim with lots of angst and emotions that is typical of my work. I feel like last time I rushed the first part so it wasn't as impactful. Anywaysss, I hope you guys like this as much as I do, and please leave a comment telling me what you think. My motivation levels are lowwww rn and your comments always make my day!

Azriel POV

Agony tore through his heart like a viper striking its prey. Its poison seeping through his veins and making an act as simple as breathing seem laborious. How did everything collapse so quickly? How could he let it slip away from him so easily? His love… his nightingale was gone.

After somewhat coming to his senses, he had winnowed straight to his nightingale’s house, knowing that was where she would return. Just like him, she liked being alone when faced with the hurdles life threw at her. Just two sides of the same accursed coin. And that was where he found her; her room in a mess, belongings sprawled everywhere, and his nightingale sitting in the middle of it all, heaving with sobs. He had frozen at the sight, his wretched heart breaking even more. But the sound of her never ending tears had broken him out of his stupor.

Azriel immediately fell to his knees before and tried to grab her hands as he pleaded,

“My love, please, listen to me-”

He hadn’t had the chance to finish his sentenced before you wrenched your hands away from his, as if his very touch burned you. The thought of that pierced through his very being.

“Don’t touch me, you… You fucking cheat!” You roared. To say he was shocked would be an understatement; his nightingale never yelled at anyone, no matter how upset she was. He didn’t even know you were capable of such fury, let alone releasing it at him. You had gotten up from your place at the foot of your bed and had moved away from him to another corner of the room. Pointless as he followed you right away.

“It’s not what it looked like, will you please listen to me?”

“Really, Azriel? Could you sound any more typical right now? You know, if you had the guts to have an affair, you should have at least come up with a better excuse when you were with her,” you spat at him. The hatred burning bright in your eyes made him want to fall to his knees before you. But he knew he had to explain…he had to tell you what happened. This was his one chance, otherwise he’d lose you forever.

“I didn’t! I would never! I swear on my life, I have no idea why Elain was there, or why she did what she did. I had no part of it, I swear to you. Please just think about it. If I wanted to be with her, why would I have made plans with you? To celebrate our anniversary no less?” he pleaded.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe you got tired of me, hm? Why mess around with some ‘commoner’ when you can have the High Lady’s sister?”

What? Where were you getting all this from? Why were you thinking like this? You weren’t like this and neither was he…and you…you knew that.

“Love…please,” Azriel begged as he moved closer trying to reach for your hands. Yet again you evaded him and moved away to another corner. It was as if the two were dancing a dance of push and pull, one always out of reach of the other. You turned around and just…looked at him.

“You know, when she came to me, and with everything she said…I didn’t believe her. Even when every part of my being was begging me to, I thought…my Azriel wouldn’t do that to me. He loves me, not her. Why couldn’t you keep my trust Azriel? Why did you shatter it like this?”

“Told you what? Love, please, if you don’t want to listen to me at least tell me what Elain said to you. So that I can prove to you that it is a lie.” Azriel was genuinely at a loss for words. As the situation progressed, he became more and more confused.

“She came to the bookshop before I left, Elain. At first I thought she was a customer, but no…she was there to steal something else altogether. And imagine how shocked I was when she told me that you have been having an affair with her for the past year. That the only reason the two of you kept it a secret was because of the High Lord. And now that he approves of your relationship, the two of you don’t have to hide anymore. Which is why you were going to break up with me today.”

Azriel fell quiet at that and stared at you for a good five minutes trying to process the words that just came out of your mouth. The sheer insanity of it only worsened his addled mind.

“Darling, that is…she’s lying. How can you believe her? Why would you believe her? What proof did she give you? Why would you trust some stranger over.. me?” Azriel demanded, his own anger rising. He was the innocent one here yet no one seemed to want to listen to him.

“Is it not the truth then?”

“NO!”

It was a battle of wills now. Both of you were simmering with fury right now- you with your rage at being betrayed and Azriel with his frustration at being ignored. Two sides of the same coin indeed.

Knowing he had to be the one to surrender, that be had to placate you if he wanted this relationship to survive, Azriel softened. He extinguished the rage that was threatening to burn their love to the ground and walked closer to you again. He reached for your hands to offer yet another apology, an explanation…anything to get you to show mercy.

But you snatched your hand back with such…disgust, as if his touch had burned you.

“Get your filthy hands off me, you fucking cheat!” you screamed, “don’t touch me!”

Azriel immediately let go of you. A thousand ash arrows could have pierced him on the battlefield and they would have hurt him less than the utter hate and disgust marring your usually soft features.

“Love…” A final plead, a final beg…the last thread holding them together. One last try of reaching out from the darkness he was drowning in.

“I said DON’T TOUCH ME! They were all right about you…you…you’re just another Illyrian brute who uses women as he pleases. I was a fool to think you were different, that you…you loved me.” All the hate had vanished in an instant from your face, replaced by something worse. In its place was a crestfallen defeat, the ravaging fire of fury replaced with silver tears now streaming down your face.

And it was the sight of your tears that told Azriel it was all lost… he had lost. He had sworn an oath once, to you, to himself, that he would never cause you an ounce of heartbreak.

The memory seemed bittersweet now. You had been crying because of some novel that you were reading as a hero had died tragically at the end. In his attempts to cheer you up he had remarked how this made him better than the heroes of novels that you always fawned over, for he never made you cry.

“Sure of ourselves are we?” you had asked with a smirk, your amusement returning to your gaze.

Mission accomplished, he had thought to himself.

“Of course, I never hurt you so there is no reason for you to cry,” he had answered.

“So do you promise then, Shadowsinger, that you will never make me cry?” you had jested.

“I swear on it my nightingale. I will never make you cry, I promise.”

It looked like you were thinking of the same memory, that now seemed almost a millennia ago. Had they been that happy? Was that what their life had been like? Happiness now seemed like a foreign country, whose borders had no room for immigrants like him.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said before he winnowed away to his house in Velaris. Before shadows engulfed him completely, he could have sworn he saw you crumble to the ground.

…………………………………………...............................................

His lounge came into view, exactly as he had left it. But everything seemed strange, foreign. As he stood in the absolute silence of his house, the reality of what had happened settled in on him. He stumbled to the couch, his vision blurring slightly, making the journey troublesome.

Azriel’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the emptiness that now filled his house. The room spun around him, the walls closing in as if trying to crush him under the weight of his despair. He sank to the floor, his back against the couch where he and his nightingale had once spent countless evenings tangled together, laughing, and whispering secrets.

“She’s gone,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, and he felt like he was suffocating. He clutched his chest, the pressure unbearable. His mind raced with images of you just moments ago; you looking at him with such disgust, you wrenching your hands away from his, your tears streaming down your grief stricken face.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, rocking back and forth. “This can’t be happening. She can’t be gone. My nightingale can’t be gone.”

His vision blurred with tears, and he could barely see the room around him. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. His fingers dug into the carpet, seeking some grounding, some way to make the pain stop. But nothing helped. The anguish was too deep, too consuming. How could this happen? How had he let this happen? His nightingale was the one gift he had stolen from the Mother. The one happiness he had gotten in this miserable life. It… It wasn’t fair. He always gave up every thing, he did everything for everyone…so why wasn’t he allowed this one happiness? Why did the Mother hate him so much to dangle this beautiful fate in front of him all these years only to snatch it away? Which one of his sins was he being punished for?

Memories of their time together flashed through his mind. Your smile, the way you looked at him with those eyes full of love, the sound of your laughter that always made his heart soar. And now, it was all gone. You were gone. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer, and he doubled over, choking on sobs.

“I need you,” he cried out, his voice breaking. “Please, come back. I can’t do this without you.”

But the silence was his only answer. The home that had once been their sanctuary now felt like a tomb, cold and empty. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t support him. He fell to his knees, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“Why did you leave?” he wailed, his voice echoing off the walls. “Why?”

His breath came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle. He felt lightheaded, his vision tunneling. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm himself, but the panic was relentless. It clawed at him, tearing him apart from the inside.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

But you weren’t there to hear him. You were gone, and he was alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. He was alone again, like he had always been, like he had always meant to be. The realization tore through him, a fresh wave of agony that left him breathless. He curled into a ball on the floor, his body wracked with sobs, and let the darkness close in.

…………………………………........................................................

Cassian POV:

He had stayed in the training arena long after his brother had left, trying to come up with a possible explanation. Azriel didn’t blow up like that… ever. No matter what trial or pain they were going through, his brother was the one who grounded them all; always a calm, stoic presence. For him to react this way, he knew something major had to have happened. But what?

Cassian knew this mystery could only be solved by the culprit behind it, and his brother had conveniently provided him with a name: Elain.

Immediately he set off to find the particular Archeron sister that had apparently caused his brother so much woe. Knowing Elain, she was in one of two places: the kitchens or the gardens. And the latter seemed to be her choice of the day as that is where he found her; pruning away at some roses, humming a tune, as if she hadn’t… done whatever it is that she had done, but Cassian knew it had to be horrible.

Azriel may be Spymaster, but centuries as General had taught him to read people in an instant, and Elain Archeron despite all her self perceived slyness and schemes, was an open book. He noticed how she stiffened as he approached, how her stabs at the soil got much swifter, he noticed the panic on her face that she tried but failed to school into nonchalance.

“Elain,” he greeted plainly, wanting her to slowly succumb to her panic before he asked her anything.

“Cassian, strange seeing you here. Nesta’s not here if that’s who you are looking for.”

“No, actually, I was looking for you. You haven’t happen to have seen Azriel today have you?” he inquired.

“Az? No…no I haven’t seen him for quite some time actually,” she answered but that one second look of panic, of fear, gave her away. It cemented her as the culprit behind whatever crime she had committed against his brother. Elain then proceeded to grab some flowers she had plucked, put them in a basket, and attempted to walk past him. But he blocked her path and glared right back at her,

“Elain, what the hell did you do?” he demanded, emphasizing every single word.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” again she tried to maneuver past him but he didn’t budge an inch.

“Elain,” he growled, “you’re going to tell me what you did. Right. The. Fuck. Now.”

And that was when she crumbled. She broke down- crocodile tears if you ask him- and recalled every single thing she had done: from eavesdropping his conversation with Nesta, to asking around about the girl Azriel was with by using her name, visiting her bookshop, then ambushing Azriel at the café. At the end of it, Cassian was speechless. He looked at the woman in front of him and saw a stranger. Elain, sweet Elain, always assumed by everyone to be innocent and kind. The crime she had committed twisted her features into something ugly and heinous- mirroring her vile heart.

“How could you?”

“Cauldron! Why doesn’t anyone understand me? I love him!! And he was messing around with that…that bitch. I deserve him, not her!” Elain screamed, a wildness overtaking her expression.

“You do not deserve anything, Elain. You can’t force someone to love you. And you don’t hurt the people you love. What did you think was going to happen, huh? That you would break up Azriel’s relationship, his very happy relationship, and he would what? Run happily to you? Are you honestly that delusional?!” Cassian roared back.

“It doesn’t matter. I wanted him first. What right does she have to just waltz in and steal him from me?”

“She didn’t steal anyone, Elain. Azriel was never yours-”

“Well then at least he’s not hers anymore now either. If I can’t have him, no one can,” she said coolly as if she had told some joke. The calmness with which she said it took out all the fight from his body.

“You’re pathetic,” he whispered. And with that he made to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” she called after him.

“To find my brother. Rhysand will deal with you.”

What Elain had done was unforgivable; intentionally breaking up his dear brother’s relationship like that, ambushing him with a kiss against his will…was no less than assault. And Cassian had a sinking feeling Rhysand would have a lot to say to the middle Archeron sister.

……………………………………………………………….....................

Flying to the River House, he barged in to find Rhysand. Azriel’s reaction to everything made it clear that the situation was more serious than he had anticipated. He also knew that he needed Rhysand to intervene and help come to solution since Azriel would not listen to a word Cassian said. What the hell. The cat was already out of the bag, he might as well tell Rhys too, just so he can help Cassian clean up this mess.

Thankfully, Feyre was not home. He really didn’t want to tell his High Lady about her own sister’s crimes- he would much rather leave that conversation to Rhys. Speaking of, he found the High Lord in his study going over reports. His brother gave a warm smile as he saw Cassian walk in but his face fell at his expression.

“What’s happened?”

Cassian sighed and recounted the whole debacle, starting from when he first saw Azriel and his girlfriend at the café to his recent conversation with Elain. To say his brother was seething by the end would be an understatement. One thing about Rhys was that he is insanely protective of his family and while Elain might be his sister in law, the three of them had been at each other’s side for five centuries- it was no mystery of who was given priority.

And what Elain had done… His brother never spoke of it but he knew Rhysand was still haunted by his time Under the Mountain, by Amarantha. Even more than before his brother had always been the one to enforce the importance of consent, in every aspect of life, not just intimacy. For Elain to so blatantly ignore his brother’s refusal must have struck a chord with Rhys. The High Lord was now pacing in his office, almost shaking with anger.

“Where is she now?” the High Lord demanded.

Knowing he must be talking about Elain, he answered, “She’s at the House of Wind.”

“Cauldron, I just want to… never mind we’ll deal with her later. Where’s Az?”

“I have no idea. He winnowed away from the training arena and I haven’t seen him since. He wasn’t in his room at the House of Wind, and he’s not here either,” Cassian explained.

“He must be at his own place then. Let’s go.”

“Me? Shouldn’t you go on your own? He seemed really pissed off, Rhysand. Maybe you should go on your own, I don’t want to make anything worse,” Cassian said hesitantly.

“Don’t be a fool, Cass. What’s happened has happened. We can’t change it. But we can make Azriel hear us out right now. Let’s go.”

With that the two brothers winnowed away in search of their third, terrified of what they might find.

……………………………………..................................................

Arriving at Azriel’s place they were met with darkness and a pungent stench of alcohol. Walking further into the house, they found Azriel passed out on his couch, the coffee table littered with empty bottles of vodka. Shit. Shit. Shit. Azriel had only confronted Cassian in the training arena this morning. Just how much had he drank since then in this short period of time. Turning to Rhysand, he saw similar horror in his eyes. Azriel never drank like this. It was usually Cassian who blacked out drunk on nights out, Azriel-ever the vigilant Spymaster- would always remain sober enough to keep track of his surroundings.

Rhysand walked over and gently shook Azriel awake, emitting several groans from the passed out male.

“Az, wake up brother,” Rhysand prodded him gently.

Azriel only let out another groan in response and covered his eyes with his arm, burrowing in further into the couch.

“C’mon none of that,” Rhysand said, pushing him again. Eventually, Rhysand managed to get Azriel up and sitting on the couch. The sway to his body and his unfocused eyes confirmed what they were already suspecting: Azriel was very, very drunk.

Out of nowhere, Azriel made to get up but his intoxication was clearly affecting his motor skills as he stumbled and would have face planted on the floor but luckily Rhysand caught him in his arms.

“Easy there brother…”

“I’m fine,” Azriel grumbled before pushing off of Rhys. His slurred words telling that he was very much not fine. Azriel then made to walk to the kitchen when his eyes landed on him. Cassian steeled himself, readying himself for another onslaught of Azriel’s accusations, knowing full well he deserved them. Honestly he would have preferred the yelling. Because Azriel said… nothing. The utter defeat in his brother’s eyes made Cassian want to die almost. Azriel only pushed past Cassian to the kitchen, not even sparing him another glance.

The two of them assumed perhaps Azriel was getting a glass of water but were immediately proven wrong when they saw him rummaging through cabinets and pulling out yet another bottle of vodka.

“Hey now, none of that. You’ve had enough Azriel,” Rhysand exclaimed, the authority in his voice urging Az to listen.

“Yeah, I’ve just about had enough with all this,” Azriel said with a wry laugh, still stumbling where he stood when he took another sip of the bottle. The bastard was going to give himself alcohol poisoning at this rate if he didn’t slow down. Not being able to watch any longer, Cassian rushed forward to grab the bottle from his brother’s hands only to be pushed right back,

“Don’t fucking touch me. This is… it’s all your fault,” Azriel barked.

“Okay so we’re talking now, good,” Rhysand said all of a sudden. Azriel laughed a dry laugh,

“I have nothing to say to anyone, get the hell out.”

“Az, we know you’re upset” Rhysand started but was interrupted by Azriel,

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now, Rhysand. So why don’t you take your fake sympathy and pity and shove it up your ass.”

With that Azriel pushed past the two of them and moved towards his room. Cassian followed, knowing he had to get through to Az right now if they wanted any chance to fix this mess.

“Azriel listen to me-” Cassian started, pushing past the door when Azriel tried to slam it in his face, “No you’re going to listen whether you like it or not. Yes, I knew about your girlfriend. I saw the two of you at the café by the Sidra because I’d been out to get some things for Nesta and the girls. Yes, I was upset and hurt that you didn’t tell me, especially after I found out that you had been courting her for two years. And yes I told Nesta, which I realize was a mistake as well. It was not my place to tell her. But I was only discussing it with my mate because I was upset about it. And she swore not to tell anyone either. I… I didn’t tell Elain. She was eavesdropping our conversation from our bedroom door and she asked around about you girlfriend through her name. I didn’t tell her Az, let alone send her there. I… I would never ruin your happiness like that, brother.”

Cassian was panting at the end of his rant, out of breath from all the emotions he had let out, but he knew he had to get through to Azriel right now. Or else this misunderstanding would only get worse. Rhysand now stood behind him, ready to jump in between his two brothers in case he needed to.

Azriel only stared back at him as a single tear made its way down his face,

“It doesn’t matter… none of it matters. My nightingale.. she’s gone. She left. She left me and I can’t… I can’t breathe… I can’t…”

Cassian saw the sudden shift in his brother; how Azriel’s panicked gaze flitted across the room quicker than his shadows, how he began to grab at his chest, his neck. Immediately Cassian moved to his brother,

“Hey, Az. Just breathe okay. You’re alright, “ Cassian tried comforting his brother, wanting to ground him before he spiraled into a full on panic attack. He put Azriel’s hand on his own chest, trying to get Az to match his breathing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe,” Cassian repeated the mantra he had uttered a thousand times to his brother. Despite his stoic attitude, out of all of them, Azriel had always been more prone to panic attacks, had been since childhood. Perhaps it was his silent, secretive nature, Azriel always kept his issues to himself, never voicing them to anyone or complaining. Maybe bottling up everything in such a way was what caused his brother to collapse from time to time. There’s only so much a person can take, even if they are as strong as his brother.

Eventually Azriel’s breaths calmed and he crumbled in Cassian’s arms. Slowly the two fell to the floor and Azriel… just cried. Cassian looked at Rhysand who had a similarly shocked expression. They had never, ever seen Azriel break down like this. Cassian was at a loss for words, and it must have seemed like it too, because Rhys walked over and kneeled by them too.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright, Az. I know all seems lost right now but we’ll fix this. I swear it,” Rhys comforted.

“You can’t… fix anything,” Azriel let out amidst his sobs, “she’s gone, she doesn’t even want to see me.”

As Azriel’s sobs got more violent, the two brothers became more and more concerned. None of their attempts to calm him down were working and at this rate they were worried he might as well spiral into another panic attack. .

“Why does this always happen to me? I do everything for everyone… I always give up everything. Why can’t I have this one thing? Why can’t anyone love me? Why does everyone always leave?” Azriel lamented, hiccupping because of the tears.

To say Cassian’s heart broke in that moment would be an understatement. It was then that he swore to the Mother that he would fix this for his brother, even if he had to give up everything he had for it.

…............................................................................................

Cassian had left Azriel with Rhysand after he had pried your name and whereabouts from Azriel. It had been difficult with Az not even wanting to mention your name but eventually he had succumbed to Cassian’s persistence. He was ashamed to admit that he had used his brother’s still drunken state to pry information out of him but whatever. It was for a good cause.

Now he was standing outside your door. He had first visited The Quill- a bookshop he now knew you owned, Nesta would be delighted- but unfortunately it was closed for the day. Knocking he waited for a response but got none. Not knowing what else to do, he knocked again. Azriel hadn’t mentioned another location, if you weren’t here Cassian didn’t know what he would do.

He was about to knock again when a muffled voice called out,

“I’m coming!”

So you were home. Great. As Cassian was preparing what to say the door opened and… shit. There you were, looking just as bad as Azriel; swollen eyes, puffy face, red nose. All indicators of a long crying session. Cassian wanted to kick himself: just how many people had he hurt with his hot headedness.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

It was at your question that Cassian realized that he had been gawking at you, which instantly snapped him out of his stupor.

“Yes, sorry about that. I was hoping we could talk for a moment. I’m Cassian, Azriel’s brother?”

He hoped that Az had at least mentioned him to you otherwise this was going to be a very difficult conversation. However, your face fell as he mentioned Azriel’s name-shit- and you began to close the door in his face as you said,

“I have nothing to say to you. Goodbye.”

And you had almost slammed the door in Cassian’s face but he wrenched his feet in between the door,

“Look I’m sorry. I know you’re angry and hurt and you have every right to be but please… please listen to me. I won’t take long, just a moment… Please.”

Internally Cassian begged every deity out there to bless you with some mercy, some understanding. And despite recent events proving otherwise, it seemed just this once fate was on his side as you opened the door to let him in and took him to your drawing room. Crossing your arms in front you, you stared back at him with a fiery gaze, daring him to say whatever it is he wanted to say. Feisty. He was beginning to see why his brother liked you.

“If Azriel has sent you here to offer some made up apologies, I would recommend you save your time and leave,” you said before Cassian could get anything out.

“No, not an apology, an explanation.”

You scoffed and started to move away but Cassian continued before you could leave,

“Look whatever happened that day in the café, it wasn’t Azriel’s fault. It was…mine.”

He could see how your ears piqued up at that as you turned to him with inquisitive eyes. He had your attention then… good. So Cassian began again and told his tale, explaining Elain overhearing his conversation with Nesta, her vile schemes and also her long held affections for his brother. But he made it a point to reiterate how his brother had never returned those affections and that it was only after Cassian found out about you that he understood why- because his heart already belonged to another, to you.

“So please, if you want to take out your anger on anyone, take it out on me, take it out on Elain, but please do not punish my brother. He has no fault in all of this, and he can’t live without you. I know that now.”

Cassian had left after that, knowing you needed some time to process everything. He only hoped that he had done enough for his brother, and that the two lovers could find their way back to each other again.

...........................................................................................

Having cleared the misunderstanding between the two lovers, Cassian and Rhysand’s attentions had turned to the culprit: Elain. Rhys’s fury had returned full force when he was face to face with her. As he had raged and yelled, at one point Cassian thought Rhysand might end up killing Elain altogether- Azriel’s breakdown only acting as fuel to the fire. Seeing Azriel cry as he did had sparked a violent need for revenge in the two brothers.

In the end, Elain had survived- Cassian suspected probably because of Feyre. But Rhysand would no longer tolerate her in Velaris, even for Feyre. As punishment, Rhysand had sent her to Wind Haven where she would stay for the foreseeable future. With no allowance form Rhys, she would have to earn her keep by working in the camp, as all the “commoners” did. Cassian had almost laughed when Rhysand had thrown Elain’s insult to you right back at her. With that out of the way, Cassian had turned to you and his brother.

As it turns out, his brother and his lover were equally stubborn. Despite the air being cleared between the two of you, both parties being absolved of guilt, neither of you was willing to take the first step. Azriel was still convinced that you wanted nothing to do with him, that you did not want to see him. And you… you had somehow managed to convince yourself that in the argument that had taken place between you and Azriel, you had hurt him to such a measure that you could not face him.

Ultimately, Cassian wanted to slam his head against a wall. Neither of you was willing to budge so he knew he had to take matters into his own hands. Therefore he had concocted a simple plan. He had convinced Azriel to take an evening stroll with him, claiming that his brother had spent too many days locked up in his house, drinking and brooding, that he needed some fresh air. In the end it had taken a direct order from Rhysand to get Azriel out of the house. Cassian knew his brother did not like to play rank with them but in this case it was necessary. If he was left to his own devices Azriel would most likely wither away in his home.

Well, they had gone flying and had even stopped at a restaurant where Cassian had forced his brother to eat- because Azriel did look like a walking corpse. It was when they were walking by the Sidra thkat the second component of his plan arrived- you.

The two lovers froze as they spotted each other. Now that the two were face to face, they had to talk.

“Oh, damn it. I was supposed to take Nesta flying. Well I better leave. Enjoy your walk Azriel.” With that Cassian took to the sky but not before he saw his brother’s accusatory glare. As he soared to the clouds, he sent a prayer to the Mother to soften both your hearts and allow the two of you to work out your differences- if only for the sake of your love.

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Azriel POV:

The scene was rather poetic; two lovers mirroring each other’s pain. Your eyes looked hollow and sunken, as he was sure his did as well, indicative of long nights spent crying instead of sleeping.

He knew he couldn’t walk away, as much as his mind was begging him to. He wasn’t that cowardly. So he slowly approached you, allowing you the chance to walk away, but thankfully you moved to him as well.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice hoarse from days of not using it- he hadn’t really fell like talking to anyone. You nodded and the pair walked over to the bench that gave a brilliant view of the river in front of them, yet at the moment all seemed bland and gray.

“So…”

“I’m sorry,” the two of you said at the same time.

“Sorry? Nightingale, what are you sorry for? It was my fault… I…” Azriel didn’t know what his fault was but he knew his darling was not to be blamed.

“No, you have done nothing wrong. Your brother, Cassian, he explained everything, everything that the bitch did,” you spat out, “It is my fault Azriel. You… You did nothing at all. That bitch kissed you against your will and I blamed you for it. And I am so sorry for that, Azriel.”

Azriel was at a loss. He had walked into this conversation expecting to be confronted and now… he was confused.

“I should have listened to you, I should have stopped to think but I didn’t and I’m so sorry Azriel,” you cried, tears lining your eyes.

“Its okay, nightingale. It was the heat of the moment, you didn’t have to time to react to what you saw. I probably would have reacted the same.”

And it was true. With how possessive he was, Azriel knew seeing his nightingale with another man would not have ended well.

“But you came to me… You came to my house to explain yourself even when you had done nothing wrong… And I didn’t even listen, and I said such horrible things. I’m so so sorry Azriel,” you said amidst tears as your head fell into your hands.

Instantly, he took you into his arms. And just like that he felt whole again. You were where you belonged, and that’s all that matters. But you pulled away and took his hands in your own,

“I need you to know, Azriel. I did not mean anything I said, not a single thing. Everything I said about your hands and you… I meant none of it. I was just so angry and I used your insecurities against you and I am so so sorry for that. Please, I understand if you do not wish to be with me any longer, but please forgive me. I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for hurting you like that, I’m so so sorry Az.”

With that you broke down into tears and Azriel pulled you back into his arms, every part of his soul begging him to comfort you, to provide solace.

“Love, its okay, I forgive you. I know you did not mean it, because I know my nightingale holds no malice for anyone in her heart. Yes it did hurt in the moment but we were both not thinking straight in the moment.”

“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily,” you remarked as you wiped away some tears.

“I think that should be for me to decide, no?”

A strange silence fell between them, one that had had no place in their relationship before. It was the gnawing kind that slowly began to suffocate you. The two of you had resolved the misunderstanding but so much had been done, so much had been said, that they didn’t know how to move past it. So they sat quietly side by side, staring at the river before them, wondering to themselves if it could carry away their woe as well.

No matter how much he tried to ignore it, there was one question that was gnawing at the back of his mind. Azriel knew if he wanted any hope for their relationship to survive, he had to ask it now. Otherwise they could try to move past this together and dance around it, ignoring it’s presence as it slowly suffocated Azriel to death.

“Why didn’t you come for me, when Cassian had told you the truth?”

You turned to glance at him, the pain shining through your eyes, then turned back to the River as you answered,

“I was afraid, afraid that you would turn me away. Already I had convinced myself that I did not deserve you… everything that happened only cemented the fact that I would only hurt you.”

That- was not what he was expecting. He had thought perhaps you had already given up on their relationship, maybe you didn’t think him worth the effort. To think that you thought yourself unworthy… it wasn’t like you. Some deep instinct of his told him there was more. He wasn’t the Spymaster for nothing.

“Where is this coming from, love?”

“I don’t know, Azriel. I’ve just been struggling so much these past few months. Freya, she made these new friends that we’ve been hanging out with. And she told them about us, our relationship, and the things they said have been getting to my head. They found it very hard to imagine that you would date someone like me. They always commented how you could always find someone richer or belonging to a more royal family. And one of them… one of them even said that because you go to all these different courts, you probably have loads of affairs. And you… You were gone for so long, and I know it was for work, I understand that completely, I knew that when we got together. But they wouldn’t stop saying it. So when Elain showed up to my shop… everything she said and then what I saw at the café, it was like vindication for my fears. Like you had proven them right. I got so caught up in their hate- that I lost track of us in between.”

You again started crying at the end of the rant, it providing a much needed catharsis. Azriel was…speechless. He knew first hand how painful such insecurities were and to imagine that yours had dug so deep that you doubted their relationship… That you doubted yourself, made him want to stab his own heart out. Taking you into his arms, he whispered,

“My love, your are not wrong for having fears or insecurities. Everyone has them. You should have told me about them. That was your one mistake, you should have let me help you.”

Turning to look at him, you gazed into his eyes as if searching them for some way out of this mess.

“How do we move past this, Azriel?” You asked sadly.

“Well, we start by forgiving each other. And by promising that we never let a third get in between us again; whether that’s Freya, Elain, my brothers, anyone. Never again, nightingale. Whatever issues we have, whatever fears, we solve them together. Can you promise that?”

“Yes, my love, I promise,” you answered with a smile.

“So we’re together again?” he asked with a smirk and you answered by throwing yourself into his arms. And as he held you in his arms, Azriel swore it was then that he took his first breath in weeks. He knew this was far from over. He knew it would take time to rebuild their relationship and their trust in each other to way it was, knew it would take time to fight away your insecurities along side his own. But in this moment, he only shuffled closer to you, inhaling your scent to give solace to his weary heart.

Pulling away, he wiped the tears from your face and asked with a smirk,

“Well, it is way past the date, but would you be interested in a belated, anniversary breakfast my lady?”

In answer you only let out a laugh of your own, the sound more melodious to Azriel than the sweetest opera, and you took his hand in your own as the two of you began to walk towards your favorite café, where all this heartbreak had started.

The two of you walked hand in hand to the same café, hearts beating as one, to a new start.

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