#it really stuck with me and I think would be such a silent yet tender act of Lincoln's doing and really special

[berniecranes]

xxxi. thing you carry everywhere

Wrote this on the day of the prompt, but was a little hesitant to post it here. But I still really like it and feel like sharing it. Especially since I'm not writing much right now, as not being the biggest fan of February's prompts

It was weird to actually be in his room again. In his genuine house. Not anything trying to act as it, he was actually stateside. He couldn't quite say it felt as if he never left; but he certainly tried to force that feeling. Hoping it would come genuinely and naturally soon. John laid in bed, his arm cradling his head. It had to be his left, as he can't leave his right hand scrunched up for so long. It'll begin to feel heavy, and feel hard to move, cramping up. His hand doesn't fully stop on him anymore, but he'll always have to adjust how he does things all because of that goddamn hand. He slipped his lit cigarette into his mouth so he could run his fingers across his clothed chest. He didn't need to see the scar under his t-shirt to know it's there. He knows right where it begins and where it ends. He's at least somewhat thankful this one doesn't bother him nearly as bad as his hand. This one only brings anger and hints of shame when he's shirtless, looking down at himself. He feels like a fool for trusting someone as much as he trusted Aldridge. He told himself to not do that again, to never put more faith in someone than you put in yourself. But there he went. Only took a couple years and he became that fool all over again.

But this time it was different. He knew that's easier said, but he truly believed it this time. Aldridge left him with wounds that will never heal. Left him with pain that will never heal; whether that's when his hand twitched at the heat or when holding a gun. When the part of his scar that is still rose for some reason becomes angry and it feels like thorns across his hand. Or when it's nights like this. He can't sleep because too many thoughts are circling. But Lincoln, he couldn't have been anymore different. John sat up from his bed, resting his cigarette in his ashtray after taking a long drag. He pulled open the bottom drawer of his night stand, where he shoved some stuff away when he got home. Gently, he picked up the chain with two tags dangling from it. He looked at the first one. It had his name and number on it. This one was all his, but then he put his focus on the lower one, hanging on by the smaller chain. This one wasn't his, it was Lincoln's. He still remembers the night they exchanged them.

It was the night before they were going to make an aggressive move. One that left you a little jittery about what could go wrong. It was just the two of them. Lincoln for once seemed a little nervous of what was to come. This was unlike him. John had his reservations as well, but he showed them more frequently; never too scared, as it was shown more through caution and over compensation, a sort of cockiness. But he felt just as vulnerable as Lincoln was in the moment. Lincoln slowly brought his hand up to his dogtags and undid the lower hanging one, John watched in silence, his chest moving up and down with every breath and exhale. Lincoln clipped it onto John's tags. John began to do the same. John never knew what military shit he didn't know about, as that wasn't necessarily his field. But at this moment, it all made sense.

'At least we'll both make it out.' Lincoln said tenderly. His voice having a sense of airiness John only rarely heard.

'I've never seen you like this. You're starting to scare me now.' John exhaled. 'We'll both make it out, walking right next to each other. Not whatever this is.'

'I know.'

John swallowed hard, and put his hand on top of Lincoln's. Lincoln twisted his hand to be palm up, and let his thumb gently caress John's skin.

John ran his own thumb over Lincoln's tag. It was late, and he had no light on. He couldn't read what it said but he could feel the indent of the words. He hopes he's adjusting nicely to being home. Lincoln deserved to get a break for once. He actually was a man with code and carried his own honor. John truly wasn't sure if their paths would ever cross again in the real world, but he knew Lincoln wasn't leaving his thoughts anytime soon.

[n3ptun3e]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ gentle hands ♡

Shisui who touches you oh so gently

• Fluff, Shisui Uchiha x fem!reader

•A/N: one more for you shisui stans☆〜（ゝ。∂）

It is a well known fact that the great shunshin no shisui passed most of his time training since he was a little boy, hands calloused by years of harsh training and multiple battles, muscles ripped with strength, strong legs that earned him his reputation across nations and messy curly hair accompanied by a broad nose and a warm grin. yes, that was Shisui. And although the boy was very dear to all, anyone with eyes could see how the Uchiha all but stuck to your side, arm draped across your shoulders as he leans close to your ear and whispers something that make the both of you laugh, always popping into existence, warm hands on your sides, scaring the shit out of you and anyone within range, ninjas tsking “kids these days”, making you blush and glare at him with a exasperated look on your face, him responding with a sheepish smile, chuckling, making it hard for you to contain your own, him reading you like a book and playfully squeezing your sides, a silent apology, there’s something endearing in the way he looks at you as his thumb slips underneath your shirt and gently rubs your waist, his warmth sending chills down your spine. “come on, don’t be so uptight! you should be used to it by now” he winks at you, letting you go, hands going to the back of his head as he asks you what you’re up to, filling you in in his last mission “really, i wish you’ve seen the way these people used katon in such a intriguing way in their daily lives. it really makes me wonder just how different yet similar we and people all across the world are..” he would ramble on and on, telling you all sort of interesting things he has come across, he just doesn’t want to stop talking to you🥺 asking you about your own missions and your opinion on this new technique he’s working on and what do you think about going to this new restaurant to try the food there? (sigh…you don’t even realize you’re on a date with how natural everything feels around him, it’s almost impossible to stay sad with him around, always trying to make you laugh somehow, giving you that dammed soft look each time he manages to make you laugh, making these stupid butterflies flutter on your stomach until it’s too late and you’re feeling his warm hands cupping your cheeks oh so gently, thumb sweeping across the soft skin, looking down at you with a warm smile on his face. it’s different from his usual smiles, a sort of quiet intimacy and tenderness on his face.)

Besides sometimes acting like a idiot he was born and raised in a well know and strict clan, he does know manners. always opening up the door for you, offering to pay for your meals together, always, always accompanying you home even though he knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, he can’t help but worry okay? he just has this protective streak over you, all but following you around like a puppy, offering to carry your groceries, bags, whatever it is. he’s no show off but he’s pretty confident when it comes to his strength so he’ll stick around until you can’t handle it anymore:D

A/N: Mm i don’t know if i like this, i know it’s pretty incomplete but i wanted to give you guys something at least:D sorry for any spelling mistakes, those are just some random thoughts about him, i hope you guys like it~♡ btw i will be opening up asks since i want to write more for him but i have no idea what to actually write haha feel free to send me asks, but i can’t promise i WILL actually write your request since it’s only so my creativity can actually spark and make my head work^_−☆

[nottswitch]

but daddy, I love him

summary: your choice of a partner doesn't leave your parents satisfied, seeing as it's Sirius Black, an infamous "blood traitor". does anything have the power to convince them? are you even willing to try?

pairing: sirius black x reader

warning: wizarding bigotry, teenage angst, smoking

wc: 3.8k

a/n: the first of the many inspired by taytay's ttpd. "but daddy I love him" is so sirius coded, I had to.

You wanted to love your family so badly, you truly did. Throughout your whole life your parents had been giving you whatever you needed and wanted – they had the money and they had the power to make your life as simple as the Accio spell. But no one ever stopped to think what it really meant to belong to one of the most ancient pureblood families in the Wizarding World. Everybody always saw the benefits: the new shiny textbooks, the perfectly ironed uniform, owls bringing you the most delicious snacks and rare books relating to your latest interests every week, your bed frame in the dorm decorated to the brim. You appreciated being that privileged, you never failed to thank your parents for the way they brought you up. However, you were fiercely shielded from any outside troubles that could possibly hinder your education and your innocence, as they put it. Ultimately, fate decided to perform its finest display of ruthless irony on you, and your parents’ endless disquietude became the very thing that led to the demise of your relationship with them.

You never expected your dating life to be of such interest to your family, simply thanks to the fact that it was never a question. You hadn’t had any serious partners before, partly due to your tender age, partly due to your own indifference to finding a suitable match.

But then Sirius Black asked you out, and your whole world had stars aligned in front of you in heart-shaped constellations; and it came down in shambles at the same time.

“Love, you alright?”

His delicately worried voice pulled you out of the misery that your parents’ letter promptly put you in.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you answered, shaking your head to temporarily kick the haunting unpleasantries out of your mind. “It’s just… this.”

You showed Sirius a thick envelope with a gold-encrusted seal, your family crest shining proudly and glaringly in the rays of the first summer sun. He barely glanced at the paper and snatched it from you, carelessly throwing it into the fireplace. You watched the flames hungrily devouring the carefully folded letter but leaving the seal perfectly undamaged. It stared at you like a glowing all-seeing orb, burning through your skull and serving as a reminder that everything you had just read was real and imminent.

“The school’s gotta give you props for all this rubbish to keep the fireplaces running.”

You chuckled at Sirius’ vitriol but it hardly lightened the thunderclouds gathering right above your head.

“You know words don’t burn, right?”

“Seems to me like they just did.” Sirius pointed at the seal that finally started to melt, stuck between pieces of firewood and piles of ash.

You let out a heavy breath and turned away from the fireplace to face your boyfriend. He was lying on the couch, head resting on a soft velvety cushion, looking at you with quite a joyful expression on his face. In your mind, it didn’t fit the situation at all, but you had gotten used to his nonchalance about your parents’… dislike of him. Or, better put, their vicious hatred that they never even tried to hide.

“Do you really not care?” you wondered for the umpteenth time, knowing that a no was a sure follow-up to your question.

“Why would I?” Sirius grinned and his hand safely covered yours, resting on the arm of the sofa. “The best part of your fam loves me, and others are a bunch of wankers.”

“I’m the only part of my fam that loves you, babe,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes but giving him a little smile. He smiled back, but stayed silent, noticing that you weren’t finished yet. “I’m already seventeen but I still feel like I’m a wee baby when they talk to me, or send me letters, or even look at me!”

“I know, love, it sucks. But you remember the plan, right?”

You nodded, and the smile on your face had finally turned genuine.

“The one where we come to my graduation dinner together even though my parents explicitly stated many times that there’s not a single universe in which they allow you to step on the property, and if you do, it would be over their dead bodies?”

“Merlin, the way you describe it! Might just be the best prank I’ve ever pulled!”

Sirius burst out laughing and you couldn’t help but follow his lead, his contagious joy making you feel whole again. The two of you came up with this madness of a plan as soon as you heard about your mother talking about a graduation dinner in your honour. They would never allow Sirius to attend, not in a million years; hell, they refused to even look at him when they saw you off at Platform 9 ¾ at the beginning of your last year at Hogwarts. They ignored his existence whenever he came into their sight, like during the holidays, when you got off the train hand in hand with your boyfriend and your parents greeted you, hugged you, kissed you on the forehead, but Sirius was frozen out completely, as if his existence was but a figment of your imagination. He never cared though; he would snicker at their theatrics and kiss you right in front of them, throwing a challenge directly in their stuck-up faces of the Wizarding nobility. Your parents came to know that their never-ending nagging wouldn’t stop you from dating Sirius Black, but they did hold specks of hope that you would grow out of your “immature phase” and give them what they wanted – a perfect little husband from another holier-than-thou household.

Never in a thousand lifetimes would you agree.

The time had come. You had to admit that you were somewhat nervous - never before had you defied your parents’ rules so explicitly and so shamelessly. You Floo’d to the Diagon Alley under the guise of last-minute preparations for the big event. Sirius was waiting for you right there, fully prepared: he was sporting a leather jacket, torn up jeans and a nearly finished cigarette in his mouth. This lad certainly went all out to look as much as a rebellious kid cliché as it was humanly possible, and you absolutely adored it. You couldn’t wait to see the reactions; your whole family was to be present at the dinner, even the most distant relatives, who might not have heard about Sirius at all – your parents hid the fact you were dating him like a dirty secret never to be uncovered.

“Love, you ready?”

Sirius took your hand in his, clearly feeling your accelerated pulse against his own steady heartbeat.

“I was less scared of our Transfiguration N.E.W.T., if I’m honest,” you admitted, hearing your voice tremble ever so slightly. “But then again, McGonagall isn’t a sanctimonious bitch.”

Sirius let out a short laugh, but his eyes were the most earnest when he gave you one last look before turning towards the fireplace, with a handful of Floo powder ready to go.

“Let’s show them, baby. You and I, against the world.”

With his encouraging words swirling in your mind, you let yourself get sucked into the labyrinths of the Floo Network, headstrong into what could turn out as the worst and the best moment of your whole life.

Your clumsy roll out into the main living room of the family manor was a perfect start for a spectacle that was inevitably about to unfold. As soon as you stood up, Sirius flew out right behind you, almost knocking you down to the floor again.

“Daughter? What is going on?!”

Your father’s voice sounded like a church bell above you. At last, you looked up at a crowd of people, all dressed up to bits, staring at you agape, their jaws on a synchronous road to meet the bristly carpet of the living room. The silence was so loud one could hear grains of sand pouring into the bottom half of an ancient hourglass adorning the mantelpiece.

“Mom, Dad,” you started, dusting off your ivory white Sunday best, “and you, Aunt Sarah, and you, Aunt Hannah, and, of course, you, Uncle Marcus! I’m terribly sorry if I’m forgetting some of you, it’s not often that you grace us with your presence!”

Sarcasm was spilling out of your pretentious speech, as you finally had the audacity to say what you had been wanting to express for the past year. Sirius’ presence gave you some much needed courage not to stumble on your words as you tore your heart out of your chest and pinned it shut on your sleeve.

“Merlin, you lot aren’t that suave for a bunch of sirs and madams!”

Speaking of the devil.

Sirius whistled, reaching your side and putting his arm around your bare shoulders. You had picked a dress like that specifically to piss your parents off a little more. They had always told you that any skin visible to the eye below the neck and above the knees was awfully indecent, very unladylike – so you just had to stick it to them.

“Daughter, what is he doing here?!” your mother tried to whisper, but in the deafening silence her voice could be heard as clearly as if she used the Sonorus spell. “Didn’t we tell you…”

“That you’d rather die than accept your dear daughter dating someone you deem undesirable?”

Your mother tried shushing you, giving desperate faux smiles to the guests around.

“What, you didn’t tell anyone?” you continued with a sneer. “Aunts, Uncles, cousins, meet Sirius Black! We’re in love!”

An array of ahs and ohs rang out in the air, and you could see Aunt Hannah clutching her chunky pearl necklace like it was her favourite childhood plushie. Sirius gave the crowd a way overly-exaggerated curtsy.

“Sirius Black, at your service,” he announced, taking out a cigarette out of the pack and popping it between his teeth, ready to light it. Before he had time to do it, the lighter was knocked out of his hands, hitting the wall on the other side of the room with a loud thump. You noticed your father’s moving hand hiding his wand back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Don’t you dare smoke inside this house!” the man shouted, wishing to incinerate Sirius right where he stood with his scathing glare.

Sirius barked out a laugh and another lighter appeared in his hand. He didn’t go for a cigarette this time, merely playing with the thing in-between his fingers.

“Rule number one when at a pureblood’s den,” he mockingly drawled the words, turning the lighter on and off, “always have a spare lighter.”

You couldn’t hold in a chuckle when you saw your parents ominously fuming at every syllable escaping your boyfriend’s mouth. Your father sighed so loudly, one would think he was on his death bed.

“Let us take this outside, shall we?” He motioned towards the field serving as the manor’s backyard. You looked at the innocent flowers quivering in the wind and thought that they didn’t deserve whatever mess was about to happen within family bounds on this beautiful summer evening.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair, Dad, to deprive our lovely audience?”

You gave the people around you the fakest brightest smile you could muster. No one returned it.

“Daughter, do not taunt me,” your father warned you. “We can use the dining room, if you so desire, but nothing happens here.”

You glanced at Sirius and caught his nod of approval. The dining room was close enough so that your parents couldn’t possibly hurt Sirius, or even you ��� you were quite sure they wouldn’t touch you with a tip of a finger, but a bit of discretion didn’t seem too excessive. Plus, and it was the only reason you agreed – you didn’t have to suffocate under the heavy stares of your kin.

The dining room wasn’t too different from the living room, the only obvious distinction being a long hardwood table stretching almost wall to wall. It wasn’t yet set – the meal itself was to start at a later hour. Your mother was the last to enter, struggling to dismiss a choir of what-a-messes from your pathetic aunts with desperate promises to deal with the whole situation as soon as they could. She cast a charm to silence you to the rest of the world and turned, at last, to face you. Your father slipped into one of the dining chairs, but you and Sirius remained standing, given some sense of dominance due to the now apparent height difference.

“I will not dance around the subject, daughter, we are terribly disappointed in you.”

Father’s words didn’t sting as much as you thought, and you almost let out a loud sigh of relief as this realization dawned on you. They almost had a tinge of freedom in them, a bittersweet taste of long-awaited liberty. All expectations burdening your fragile shoulders suddenly vanished and you could straighten your back and run, conquering hill after hill, mountain after mountain. They were disappointed. You had nothing to uphold anymore.

“Oh, I heard this one before.” Behind you Sirius laughed, almost grunting, which made you chuckle as well. “Trust me, babe, it only gets better from here.”

Mother shot a highly disapproving look at Sirius, but stayed silent. You always hated it; “A good wife lets her husband talk,” she once said in response to your childish question, and you never asked again.

“What about, Dad? Does my happiness look disappointing to you?” Your question sounded naive, but you knew you hit the exact spot. Your parents had been telling you since your earliest years that all they wanted for you was happiness. Apparently, they forgot to add “happiness that we approve of and scrupulously choose for you” at the end.

“Your happiness? What happiness, daughter? Him? He’s the happiness?”

Your father spat out each word as if it was poison he had accidentally drunk, as if it was a travesty to mention Sirius Black and happiness in the same sentence.

“You do not know what happiness looks like, daughter. You’re only seventeen. You do not know any better.”  

“And what do you know about happiness, Dad?!”

Your voice cracked as you felt it growing louder. At this point, the conversation couldn’t avoid turning into a full-blown fight, but it was destined to be exactly that from the beginning. You came prepared.

“Is this perfectly sleek suit of yours happiness? Are my Outstanding N.E.W.Ts happiness? Is having your whole life laid out in front of you from the day you were born happiness, Dad?!”

“You do not know what you are talking about!” Father shouted, his fist rapidly meeting the surface of the table. You flinched and Sirius was quick to jump in front of you, his wand squeezed tightly in his hand.

“Sir, just so you know, this wand has been used on authority figures before.” Sirius waved it in front of him, as if it was but another gauntlet thrown into your father’s face. The sarcasm in his “Sir” was flaming hot. “And for all I care, you’re no authority.”

Father took out his own wand from the same inner pocket and pointed it at Sirius.

“Boy, I will not bat an eye if you turn to dust right here and now,” he stated, his nose wrinkled in disgust, but his eyes slowly turning a shade of bloody red. It was your turn to step in between them, shielding your bold but reckless boyfriend from your father’s simmering rage.

“Dad, stop, I love him!”

It wasn’t the first case of you telling your parents that you loved Sirius, but as these words made an escape from you this time, they had almost acquired a new meaning. They felt more real, more pointed and firmer. Your father didn’t think so. He merely sneered at your proud declaration and rolled his exasperated eyes.

“Love, happiness… All this pointless charade just to prove that you are still a petulant child.” Father turned his head to look at his wife, who nodded in unconditional agreement.

“We did not raise you like that, daughter,” she finally spoke, her tone the same as your father’s.

“Your mother is right. You had everything, daughter, everything you did and did not need. And what do you do in return? Mess around with this blood traitor?!” Father spat out the last word with utmost repugnance.

Honestly speaking, the phrase had a way worse effect on you than on Sirius. He had time to grow some thick skin, dealing with bullshit bigotry from blood-purity lunatics for a while, but it was a first for you – hearing such venom from your parent, whom you still hoped to respect and to love.

“If you, sir, are dumb enough to think this was an insult – try the fuck again.”

Mother gasped and shouted “Language!”, but Sirius’ only response came in the form of a sly grin. As soon as he did it, Father jumped up from his seat and pointed his wand at Sirius with such force that it almost slid out of his hand. Sirius mirrored his actions in a relaxed, almost lethargic manner, as if he was calling Father’s bluff.

“STOP. RIGHT. NOW!”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. With every single passing second, your boundaries were being stomped on by your parents, and even though you had the most pleasure doing it back, you wished for the mess to end. The two men lowered their wands and stared at you simultaneously – Sirius with pride, and Father – with fury.

“Dad, Mom, do you not understand?! You never saw me as a person, just a damn doll to dress up!” You completely ignored your parents’ shock at your straightforward use of a very simple curse word, because it was just a beginning. “You gave me everything, and for what? For me to follow your every fucking order to a T?! For you to bitch and moan about every single decision I make using my pretty damn sound mind?!”

“What has this blood traitor done to you, daughter?” your mother sighed, looking at you with forced sympathy. “You are swearing at your own loving parents who just want to save you…”

“If there’s something to save me from, it’s you!”

You didn’t buy Mother’s crocodile tears that were about to stream down her cheeks. Always the same shit, always her clutching her heart, or her head, or both at the same time. She wasn’t about to coax you again.

“Listen to your mother! You are carrying our noble family name, tracing back centuries. You cannot disgrace it with your outrageous behaviour!”

“Not for long!”

Sirius’ voice was a breath of fresh air in a viscous swamp of your parents’ soliloquies, but for the first time today you didn’t know where he was going. The only thing he gave you was a reassuring smile, which was nice but not helpful at all.

The next minute unraveled in front of you second by second, and you felt each one pass by like the Unforgivables barely missing you and whizzing through the room. Sirius hid his wand and instead took something out of his pocket – you couldn’t discern the thing, but it looked suspiciously similar to a tiny box, – simultaneously getting down on one knee. Three pairs of eyes widened at the same time, but with different emotions concealed in their depths: Father was enveloped with pure wrath and despair; Mother was simply shocked, covering her mouth with a trembling hand; you felt nearly hysterical, your brain vacant from any foreign thoughts except for the man kneeling in front of you with what you could already see was a ring peeking from the wooden box.

“My love,” Sirius began, fully content with every reaction he received so far, “my baby, my little nugget of joy…”

You didn’t want to interrupt him but couldn’t help laughing at the pet name.

“I’d be a bit wordier if it wasn’t, y’know…” His head tilted towards your parents, who still hadn’t evaporated the two of you for some reason. “But I hope to have a lifetime for that. Now, just one question, love.”

You were ready to nod your head away until it would fall off and roll into the corner, but you wanted to hear Sirius say the sacred four words. Most importantly, you wanted your parents to hear them, and maybe pass out at your enthusiastic agreement.

“Will you marry me?”

Your yelled out “YES!” could very likely pierce through whatever silencing charms your mother had put on the dining room. A second later the ring was already on your finger, and you were in your fiancé’s arms, spinning around in endless circles of sheer love and uninterrupted bliss. Your lips quickly found his. Your parents were furious. You didn’t care.

“Daughter?!”

Your father’s voice wasn’t a church bell anymore. It resembled a first-year getting caught up in the Whomping Willow for the first time – abnormally high, breaking and unequivocally frightened.

“Dad?” you mimicked his tone and were pretty damn good at it, if Sirius had a say. “You know what, Dad? If this is the blood running through my veins, I’m more than willing to betray it.”

Mother’s cheeks were wet from tears at last; the flood wasn’t sorrowful, not at all – it was filled with spite. Father clutched his wand, but something stopped him – maybe he was ultimately conscious of the fact that from that moment on he had no power over you. You thanked Merlin for his obsolete mentality that told him wives were their husbands’ properties – well, not yet husband’s in your case, but the premise remained. Oh, the irony! The thing that made him have a measly shred of respect for Sirius was the fact that he was about to marry you – not that he had been your choice of a partner for at least a year.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m taking my future Mrs. Black the fuck away from here.”

Sirius was a gentleman. He offered you his arm, chivalrously opened the door for you and proudly displayed your hand with a shiny stone on your ring finger to each and every nosy aunt willing – no, desperate to take a look. You parents had already left the dining room, but shifted along the wall to avoid the ever-inquisitive relatives. You swiftly reached the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder each. You were so ready to finally leave the manor behind that your whole body moved by itself, without any input from your consciousness.

“And she’s having my baby!” you heard Sirius shouting just before you disappeared into the green fire of the Floo Network.

Both of you rolled out of the fireplace somewhere in the Diagon Alley, one after the other. You could finally let your guard down and burst into genuine, merry laughter; Sirius did the same, standing up and pulling you into his loving embrace.

“Love, you should’ve seen their faces!” he claimed, excitement washing over him and capturing you by association. “Bet they won’t forget us until the day they die.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t.

my masterlist

[vibinsane]

can we meet again once more? she falls asleep unbeknownst that her dream-self is awaiting to meet with dawnbreaker, but this time dawnbreaker wishes to talk to her about something personal.

note: thanks to this quote i found on tumblr that made me immediately think of dawnbreaker and @zayne-snowman for being an awesome zayne roleplayer (gimmick blog is a new term that i actually genuinely like and will use it now), since reading their posts of people interacting with dawnbreaker, it made me adore zayne even more as a rafayel girlie aheh. anyway! to those that read this, i hope you enjoy!

warning: angst once more (this will be my stamp), slight hurt with comfort, he will do anything to ensure she is ok whether mentally or physically, hints of pieces from foreseer myth if you squint

another day of being a hunter has passed and the city is as peaceful as i can be. that was her duty and she loved to provide that help in not only protecting the city, but also protecting her fourteen year old self. 

now she can return home and settle herself in bed where unbeknownst to her, she would meet a man that she forgot in the waking life, but remembers very well in her dreams. as she falls asleep, a warmth surrounds her more than her blanket, there is a smile on her face that translates to the one in her dreams as she felt warm arms wrap around her body.

the man was silent, burying his face against her neck and inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume and letting it linger in his senses, allowing himself to engrave it into his mind for when he must let her go once more. she remained where she was, unsure of how she got here, but the man standing and hugging her from behind like she was the most delicate snowflake in a world full of snowstorms was no stranger to her. 

“i’m sorry, dawnbreaker… did i make you wait for too long?” she asked softly, raising her hands to rest on his arms, squeezing them gently as she turned her head to brush her lips gently against his temple. 

he shook his head, holding her closer. “no, not at all. in fact, if you don’t know, i’ll remind you… i will wait for however long i need to just to see you and hold you like this again.”

she smiled, although it was a mix of sorrow and happiness, two emotions that could never coexist with one another, yet were easy to conceive. then, she turned around and cupped dawnbreaker’s face, her fingers gently drumming against his cheeks as she gazed up at him. 

“even if the certainty of me returning is little to none? you would risk that much if it meant you’d see me again? am i really worth that much?” 

it had been a question that was stuck in her mind like a fly in a venus fly trap, no matter how much she tried to remove the thought, the insecurity to ensure nothing came between her and dawnbreaker, that question became a plague and dawnbreaker must have sense the shift as he immediately drew her in closer.

“of course. in this world, i have nothing left. i want to be selfish. allow me to be selfish and i promise to take care of you as much as i possibly can here in this world. it’s—” 

“fleeting.” she finished his sentence with a tender smile. “everything around us and us in general is fleeting, yet if it’s all i can have, i could never wish for anything more. and you can be selfish, dawnbreaker. in a sense, this is your world and i’m becoming a permanent visitor, until you no longer want me to come back.” 

dawnbreaker eased back and stared at her with his piercing gaze before he grabbed her chin, gently tilting it up so their eyes met. “there will never be a day where i’m not looking forward to your return. there will never be a day where i wish for you not to return. and there will never be a day that i stop myself from feeling these emotions you give me. for once in this life of mine, i feel something and it’s all because of you.” 

she listened intently and nodded her head. insecurities plagued her mind, but dawnbreaker never once allowed those insecurities and self-sabotaging tendencies to remain in her head for too long. perhaps, that is why it was so easy for her to fall for him. how she felt so drawn to his presence, that she would do everything in her power to meet in the same world in her dreams. 

“then, when i fall asleep, i will do my best to make sure to meet you once more. over and over again until our worlds allow us to meet face to face outside of our dreams.”

“do you believe such a thing is possible?”

“i do. it’s all thanks to you, dawnbreaker.” 

dawnbreaker was quiet as he finally pulled away from her and held out his hand. “come, then, let’s have a walk. there is something i wanted to talk to you about. nothing horrible, i assure you… just something that has been on my mind.”

as the two walked and the snow gentle fell over the city, dawnbreaker stopped in front of a cafe. he gazed through the window and in there was a scene that did not belong to his world. in there was a version of him who was a doctor and she was there sitting in front of him, eating lunch it would seem. he could not help but feel bitter that this version of himself was allowed to be with her when she is awake.

“dawnbreaker?” she spoke out softly when she noticed him seemingly staring into the empty cafe. “what’s wrong?” 

he turned and looked at her before shaking his head. “it’s nothing…” he stated, and she did not pry any further. 

they walked a few steps more before they stumble onto a field of jasmine flowers. it was then that she let go of dawnbreaker’s hand and ran to the field of flowers, frowning.

“oh no! i knew i was forgetting something, have they not bloomed since?” 

“they are just resting, and do not worry about taking care of them, we can only do so much in this environment. ah, but come back here.”

he had gestured for her to return to his side, but instead he walked over to stand beside her, coaxing her to stand up before he held her hand. “are you curious as to what i wish to talk to you about?” 

“i am, but i don’t want to pry, so i would wait until you’re ready to talk about it.” 

“you’ve called me dawnbreaker since the day we met, but can you stop calling me that?” 

“oh—does it bother you?” 

“no, i am used to it, but i want you to call me by my real name.” 

she tilted her head, curiosity sparkled in her eyes as she met his gaze. 

“from now on, you can call me zayne.” 

the name tugged something in her chest, her hand then turning to interlace her fingers with his as she gave it a gentle and reassuring squeeze. 

“all right, then. thank you… zayne.” 

that odd muscle in dawnbreaker’s chest skipped a beat upon hearing her utter his name with such delicacy, it confused him for a bit before he regained his senses, stepped forward and held her in his arms. he cupped her chin once more and leaned down as he lifted her face up for their lips to meet in a sweet kiss. 

“no, darling, thank you.”

“but i haven’t done—” she whispered against his lips after their deep kiss. 

“you’ve done much more than you may ever know.”

her dream was spent on time with dawnbreaker, this time she managed to make him laugh and she could not help how happy it made her feel when he caught himself and tried to play it off, something about his image and how it could not be ruined.

but as the time approached for her to wake up again, she hugged dawnbreaker extra tight this time, placed a kiss onto his cheek and promised to see him once more when they both fall asleep.

but when she awakened from her slumber, she was left with an empty feeling. she sat up and touched her lips where she dreamed of someone kissing her goodbye. she furrowed her brows trying to recall the dream, but no memory came to mind. 

“as always…” she mumbled to herself as she got up to open the blinds of her window. she thought of the man in her dreams, she knew it was a man, but she could not recall a face, not even features. just thoughts and memories of his touches and words, nothing more, no face to place onto the unknown figure. 

“do you exist or have i made you up?”

[shattersstar]

Bestie it is me, the anon from a couple of days ago, many mutual kisses for my favorite tumblr writer!!! I am a teensy weensy (read: very much) cross faded and was wondering if you would be willing to write just a little thing with the “desperate kiss in the rain” prompt from the list featuring Jason Todd or Adrian Tepes? I feel the need to be In My Feelings about fictional romance lmao

ghost of love

pairing: jason todd x reader

prompt: a desperate kiss in the rain

a/n: wrote this stoned lmaoo so twins <3 and thank u for the request ur so kinddd im actually p happy with this so here goes my first fic of 2023 besties. feedback is always appreciated!!!

—

Ghost of love bound unto your name

So it be running through my veins

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Guess I wanted too much

—

Spring had made its way to Gotham, snow melting into slush and flooding the streets as the days grew longer and the winter chill started to recede. It crept into the past as singing birds and allergies were to come. It was supposed to be a time of happiness, of excitement for warmth before the general population complained about the heat plaguing the city in a few months time. But Jason watched the rain that had cleansed the city for a week already with certain disdain.

His apartment was silent save the rain’s ambiance—it hadn’t been this quiet in ages. Hadn’t been so hollow and empty since you came into his life. A presence to warm the space even when you sat in silence scrolling through your phone. Or when you cooked and hummed to yourself or when you took phone calls in his bedroom and didn’t think he could hear you sing his praises. It should’ve made his heart swell, flattered by your adoration of him, and yet it made Jason anxious. Nausea flowering in his throat at the sounds of your lies on his behalf, covering up the life he lead all while admitting how deeply you felt for him. He had heard that phone call so many times, a quick tangent usually, but it stuck with him nonetheless.

It was those moments—sweet and tender—he turned into something dark, twisted. The way you unabashedly reached for his hand at the grocery store, or called his name in a room full of people felt…wrong. You weren’t supposed to be like this with him, no one was. Jason didn’t deserve such kind words and outward gestures of love, and you didn’t deserve to be trapped with him. Stuck in something that could never really be anything. You were too good for Gotham and for him. He had always known it, tried to ignore it and just dwell in the bliss that came from being with you, but his guilt was stronger. More consuming than the feelings he had for you. It made breaking your heart painful, but a necessity.

He wasn’t yours to love, to have. He had said those words to you, “I’m not for you to love, or to be with. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep playing house anymore. This isn’t my life. You aren’t.”

His voice was cold, empty as he spoke. You couldn’t hide the hurt in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “Then go.” It was all you were able to muster, standing in your apartment as he let himself out without another word.

He wanted to add it was because he loved you, but it felt cruel. He had to remind himself he wasn’t yours to love. Jason wasn’t for anyone.

And he believed his words, for weeks on end he told himself over and over again that he made the right decision. Threw himself into work and tried to burn you from his memory with violence and power. Jason ignored what headlines you might see—what you might think of him. He had never let himself care before, you told him what he did with that life was not for you to be apart of if he choose to keep you separate. You said it casually, with a shrug like Jason was supposed to know. Know that respect and privacy he could never ask from someone was being offered freely.

Jason supposed you’d keep your word, keep your distance from the bloody and chaotic side of his life despite him leaving you. You were good like that, honest and uncompromising when you needed to be. It made him smile despite the torrential downpour, knowing there was something good still in Gotham. Something—someone worth fighting for.

Yet, as something akin to peace washed over Jason, fate played its hand and it sent him reeling. A notification lit up his phone sitting on the kitchen table. It drew his attention away from the window he had been staring out of for a while, compelling him across the room and to read the two words that broke his heart.

I’m moving. A message you sent a minute ago, two words hanging in the ether that left Jason short of breath. He had already lost you, but this was like sand slipping through his fingers all while a tsunami rushed the shore. It made his stomach knot and guilt trickled into his chest like a steady stream. You couldn’t leave the city you had made a life in because of him. Because of the pain he caused you—no that grief, that guilt, would swallow him whole. Devour him till he was nothing, but bone to burn to ash one day.

Jason was out of his apartment in record time, not dawned in his suit, but enough tactical wear to hop across rainy rooftops safely. He ignored the chill of the rain that drenched him in mere minutes, he slicked his wet hair back and regretted his leather jacket as he landed an apartment over from yours. He huffed out a few breaths, calves flexing and whining from the amount of work he just put them through to get here. Jason steadied his breathing as best he could, grappling over the alleyway and to his surprise, landing right behind you. You were next to a small pigeon coop someone kept on the roof, the stretching piece of plywood was a makeshift roof you just fit under. You had a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the bottom corner wet with rain water likely from the puddles on the roof.

He let out a sigh that caught your attention. You glanced over your shoulder before your face fell. Your phone was still in your hands and Jason wondered if you texted him because you were up here. Staring out into the city and thinking of him as he was you. “You’re moving.” He found himself saying, more accusatory than he intended, but he couldn’t help himself. Not when desperation wafted off of him in waves.

“Yeah, I just…can’t with this city anymore.” You turned fully, you had never looked so small before. So withered and tired. You look like you had been crying recently and Jason’s resolved weakened. He assured himself that cutting you out of his life was right, to save you pain in the long run, but the pain you wore so clearly now was a gut punch. It was wrenching and Jason didn’t know what to say to fix anything.

“When?” He asked instead.

“Not sure, Im gonna stay with a friend in another city for a bit before I figure everything out. Think I have someone to take over my lease so…” The idea of someone else living here made his head spin. This space was an extension of you—he could see your interest in what you hung up on your walls, your love in the plants littered around the space, your happiness in the smell of food mixing with the candles you burned and even your old grumpy cat belonged to this space as much as you did. It was one of the only places in Gotham Jason could…breathe. Think or not think and he was losing that and you—

“No.” He gritted through his teeth.

“No?” That wasn’t meant for your ears, he was trying to silence his own thoughts. He cursed to himself and turned away from you, rain soaking his face as his only then remembered it was pouring. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent you that text…I think I knew you’d show up here—I’m sorr—“

“No.” This time it was for you, even if he still refused to face you, let you see the regret plain on his face. “I don’t want you to leave Gotham like this…not because of me.”

“I know, and I wish I could stay, but Jay its too hard. Being here and trying to move on is killing me.” You were calm, calmer than he anticipated. He wanted anger, he wanted you to throw his words in your face, scold him for showing up when he was the one that forced you away. And yet, you tried to apologize and were being honest with him.

“I wouldn’t ask you to stay, but I’m sorry for how I ended things. You don’t—didn’t—deserve any of this.” Jason was never one to admit his wrongs, but this was the end of something that meant everything to him once. He couldn’t let you go with resentment between you two. You let a beat of silence pass, eyes fallen to the ground between your bodies as you processed his words. Your brows pulled together and you took a step closer to him. You weren’t out in the rain yet, but stood close enough to the edge to make sure your words hit him clearly.

“What did you mean by that? Didn’t deserve…what? What we had before? Didn’t deserve a good relationship? Didn’t deserve to be happy? I know I don’t deserve how you’ve treated me since, like I never existed, but what didn’t I deserve before? You?” Your tone was jaded, it wasn’t angry, but hurt. It made the knot in his stomach twist, his heart wrenching at the thought of you undeserving of good things. It was all you deserved, it was all he wanted for you.

Jason whipped around as he spoke, breathless before the words even left his mouth, “You didn’t deserve to be in a barely real relationship. I can’t be the person you deserve to be with, I can’t offer that much of myself to you.”

Another beat, you hovered by the edge of the makeshift roof, before letting you blanket slip off your shoulders behind you. You stepped into the rain and took him in properly, soaked from head to toe, but Jason was still bathed beautifully in the moon and streetlights that barely touched buildings this high.

“I knew all of that, I knew it wouldn’t always be normal, but I accepted it Jay. I chose to look past the parts of your life you didn’t want to share, because I didn’t care. I still don’t. What we had was a real relationship Jason, to me at least, and I didn’t even think anything was wrong when you broke up with me. I thought it was actually great, for what we were working with.” You laughed at the end, watery, but your voice stayed strong. You meant what you said, Jason blindsided you more when he left you than with his Red Hood confession. His admittance to the double life he lead was a blow, but one you could digest. Jason leaving you? It was a grenade set off from within your ribcage that left no survivors. It was pain beyond grappling with the violence that surrounded the man you loved.

“But that isn’t fair to you. I can’t give you everything, but I know I’ll take everything you can give. You get half a person and—“

“I make that choice, not you. I’ll take half a person if its you. I’ve always known I’ll love you more, be able to give you more because I’m sharing you with a city hellbent on destroying itself. When you’re the only person I want to share anything with, of course you can have it all.” He was silent, staring into the dark skies and wondering what he did to deserve you. Had he suffered enough that it was finally time to enjoy the peace?

You put your hand on his arm, urging him to look. He let his eyes meet yours reluctantly as you sniffled. “I don’t need what you think is real Jason. I just need you.” Your voice was a soft plea, fingers tightening around his leather jacket. He stared down at you, so much ache in his chest for ever thinking life made more sense without you there. He wanted to apologize, again and again until his voice went hoarse. He wanted to fall into your arms and sleep for days after weeks of restless nights. He wanted to cook your favourite meals you always said never tasted as good when you did it. He wanted to forgive and be forgiven for all the hurt swirling between the two of you.

But all he could manage was a plea of his own, almost drowned out by the spring rain that washed away the cold weeks you both spent unbearably lonely, “Don’t leave Gotham.”

You nodded, “Don’t give me a reason too.”

The knot churning inside his stomach disappeared with your soft words, making him breathe out a laugh. It was surprised, relieved and everything you needed to hear. A smile broke over your face and the tears brimming in your eyes finally spilled over as you closed the distance between you two. Your hands rested on the lapels of his jacket. He let his cradle your jaw as the rain engulfed you both, foreheads pressing together as the moment overtook you two. It felt like a dream, like everything Jason wanted was suddenly in the palm of his hands and he couldn’t believe it. Believe he had let you go and somehow managed to get you back. He couldn’t decide what you deserved, but god he’d try be the person you needed him to be.

He wanted to say that, promise you he’ll try, but words failed him at times like this. Jason was all need, desperate for you to understand how much he loved you. All he could do was act, fingers tightening and tilting your head up before his mouth crashed into yours. It was hungry and pleading, begging and convincing you to stay with him forever. To know his love forever. You kissed him back with as much urgency as you could muster, just as desperate for his touch as he was yours. It was deprave how you both nearly crumbled when his teeth tasted your bottom lip. You hands had slid under his jacket, pulling you flush against him as your fingers fisted the dry fabric against his spine. He shuddered into you, pulling away with a heaving chest. You rested your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with happy tears still overflowing. He brought this thumbs to the corners of your eyes, brushing them away before kissing you again.

His lips met yours slower this time, mending the harshness from his last kiss. It was just as needy, lips finding the corners of your mouth, cheeks and jaw before he found his way back to your mouth. Jason’s tongue swiped over your lips, one of his hands moved to cradle the curve of your skull, letting your head fall back as he left open mouthed kissed against yours. Your tongue slid over his and you wished you were in bed. Sat comfortably atop him and making out on some boring Tuesday afternoon. It was always those moments, those days when everyone else was consumed with jobs and school and life, where you and Jason flourished.

Or embracing on a rooftop, in the pouring rain, during the dead of night, while everyone slept.

It was moments where you fell into the corners of life, missed by the bustle of the city and enraptured by each other. It was all you ever needed from Jason, and he was ready to give.

—

Gonna stay humbled to this rock

Silently when I know that I belong

Tell me stay on the right track

You know I got faith and beliefs

In my life and just

I guess I wanted that much

Yesterday I fell out of grace

I made you feel bad again

I wanted all your reasons explained

Guess I wanted too much

Ghost of Love - Marie Fisker

[nihils-trolls]

📝 yumech :3

It's a rather cold evening for the season, but the hive is thankfully aglow with warmth. The sun has only just started to set, golden rays of light hitting the drawn curtains. Yumech awakes much too early to start the night.

His kismesis, who had stopped over last morning, lies beside him. Her head resting on his chest, she appears to be in deep sleep still- much like he wishes he could be. But appearances are not what they seem.

"... Can't go back to sleep?" Catill mumbles.

Yumech takes a moment to answer, not having expected her to say anything. "Not really."

".. Me neither. But I don't wanna get up yet."

Catill stirs, moving to wrap her arms around Yumech. Somehow, curling up closer to him than she was before. "You okay?"

"I think so.." Yumech says. "You know I'm a light sleeper, anyway."

"Yeah. But still... you've been acting a little different lately." Catill's voice sounds tender, caring almost. It's softer than she usually is with him.

It takes Yumech another long moment to respond. "I feel different. Like a weight I didn't know existed got lifted off of my back."

"Well. That's good though, right?"

"Of course it is." Yumech sighs. "I just.. never realized how crushed I was underneath that weight. How much trouble it was for others, too-"

Catill cuts him off, lifting her head for a moment so he can see the glare on her face. "Hey, none of that. You didn't ask to be cursed. You weren't some burden because of it. And you aren't one now.

That always pissed me off, you thinking you have to go through stuff alone. Dozens of trolls would leap at the opportunity to help you, but you always refuse."

Yumech lays silent, listening to Catill's chiding. He feels her tighten the hold she has around him, and she continues.

"... It kinda hurts, you know, when you knock our hands away like that.”

With that, something clicks finally in Yumech's mind. It's something he never really considered that way. The realization, a bit daunting. Things suddenly making sense.

“I'm… sorry,” he says. “I'll try to be better about that.”

Catill lays her head back down and huffs. “You better.”

She seems to have sensed the urge Yumech had to get up, and further anchors him to the bed. He sighs again- pulling up the sheets to try and make himself more comfortable--

He's going to be stuck here for a while longer.

[paperstorm]

Yes I’m sorry, that’s what I meant going from fire to Emt!

Yes I definitely think TK talked about it before making the decision. It was such a hard choice for him because he was so worried his dad would be disappointed, and he's in a vulnerable place, and Carlos is such a steady and calming and tender presence in his life especially during that time when TK was spinning out. I did deal with in my series, you mentioned that in the last ask, below the cut is how I wrote it <3

“What did you want to talk about?”

TK presses his lips together and drops his gaze for a moment. It feels dangerous to even be considering it, but he figures if there’s anywhere on earth he can do that, it’s right here.

“I. Um.”

“It’s been a really rough week, huh?” Carlos asks sympathetically.

His eyes are so big, such dark endless pools that TK can see the frowning reflection of his own face in them. He places a quick kiss to Carlos’s lips and tells him, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

TK climbs off of him. He scoops his underwear off the floor and pulls them on before he heads downstairs, for the bag he left by the door. He unzips it and finds the application.

Back in the bedroom he hands it to Carlos and then goes around to the other side of the bed, sitting beside him against the headboard. He watches as Carlos turns it right side up in his hands and reads the information on the header of the page.

His brow crumples into a frown. “You don’t want to be a firefighter anymore?” he asks, looking at TK.

TK exhales and looks at his hands. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No. Not if it’s what you want.”

“I’ve always been better at the medical stuff anyway,” TK says honestly. “I don’t know, it seems to just stick in my head.”

“You’re brilliant,” Carlos tells him, bumping his shoulder against TK’s.

TK smiles a little.

Carlos takes another look at the form. “The 126 is hiring to replace Tim?”

TK nods. “They’ve been looking. Nobody’s worked out yet. The guy they’ve got right now refused to go into that field today, that’s how I ended up there in the first place. So I can’t see him lasting much longer. I think … maybe I could be really good at it.”

“Then what’s the hesitation?”

When TK doesn’t answer right away, Carlos sets the application on the nightstand and raises his arm, giving TK a spot to lean against his chest. TK snuggles into him, wrapping his arm around Carlos’s waist. Carlos kisses his forehead.

“I became a firefighter to impress my dad,” TK admits. He’s admitting a lot of things, this week, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how okay that feels. He could tell Carlos just about anything, he thinks, and TK’s never had that before. He’s so much more accustomed to parceling out the little bits of himself that he thinks people will find the least annoying.

Carlos rubs his arm gently. “I’m not a stranger to that feeling.”

“I know.” TK kisses the warm skin under his cheek.

“Go on.”

“He always used to say his crew back in New York was his family. He’d use it as a reason he couldn’t come to my hockey game or the science fair or whatever, because they were his family. As if I wasn’t.”

Carlos sighs quietly.

“I don’t think I realized it’s what I was doing, at the time. I convinced myself I’d always wanted to be a firefighter. But I don’t think that was true, I think I was just … trying to find a way to get Dad to see me.”

“And now?”

“It’s not like I hate it. I wouldn’t have stuck with it this long if I didn’t like the job. But maybe I’d like this new job better. I could always switch back, if I’m wrong.”

“But?” Carlos pushes gently, when TK is silent for another long moment.

“What if I’m just – reacting?” TK asks. “Because my divorced parents are having a baby in their 50s, and Judd tried to teach me to drive an engine a few days ago and I was really shitty at it, and …”

“And what?”

TK closes his eyes and tucks his face into Carlos’s neck. “He said he’s going to be a father.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. The other day. He’s finally scheduling the surgery I’ve been bugging him about for months, because I’m going to be a father.”

“Going to be,” Carlos repeats, understanding and a tinge of sorrow in his voice.

“I’ve just … I’ve never been … enough.”

Carlos’s arm tightens around him. With his other hand he tucks a crooked finger underneath TK’s chin and lifts it, gently asking TK to look at him. There’s so much empathy swimming in his dark eyes, and TK knows how intimately Carlos understands this exact feeling.

Repeating what he’d said the other day, in a soft voice he promises, “You are more than enough for me.”

TK smiles as Carlos leans in to kiss his forehead.

“But I understand why that doesn’t fix this.”

“I know you do.”

Carlos wraps both arms around him and rests his cheek against TK’s forehead. Quietly, he says, “Maybe it is a reaction, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad reaction. Maybe all this just helped you realize you want this.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve seen you on medical calls, TK. You’re amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re never panicked, you help keep people calm, you have all this complicated information in your head and you can remember it all in crazy moments. You make it look so easy, when I know it’s not.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut, the praise washing over him and warming him from the inside.

“You’d be so good at this. You’d help so many people.”

“Should I apply?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” TK says, thinking about it only for a second and finding the certainty he was looking for.

“Then yes.”

“You won’t be disappointed?”

“In you? Never.”

“Not even because paramedics don’t do sexy calendars like firefighters do?”

Carlos laughs and jostles him playfully. “Man, you’re right, that is a bummer. Luckily for me, I get to see you all sexy any time I want.”

TK lifts his head, looking up into Carlos’s smiling face. “Thank you.”

It feels like he’s thanking Carlos for a lot of things, and TK can’t name them all in this moment so he hopes Carlos just understands.

“Of course.” Carlos kisses him. “Always.”

[zenitsumybelovedsimp]

Zenitsu x reader comfort <3

Can be platonic or romantic.

______________________________________________________________

All you knew was that you couldn't take it anymore. You felt pathetic. 

‘Why,’ you would ask. 

‘Why is it so hard to live a normal life?’ You questioned. 

If you were being honest, you wanted to quit the corps, get married, and settle down. 

But, oh, how you loved the look on people's faces when you saved them. The fear in their eyes made your heart ache, and for you to be the one to wipe that look off of their face, it felt wonderous. 

But you were just as terrified as them. Besides that tender smile and confident look on your face, you were just a fragile tap from breaking down.  

I mean, who could blame you.. You were only human... 

But then again.. You felt pathetic. 

You look at other slayers and see how selfless they are... It's inspiring, 

 but it leaves you envious.  

Yet, that burning passion inside of you wants you to be optimistic, and so you put yourself through more training, more pain. 

Because that’s the right thing to do... right? 

Right?.. 

You put yourself through more hellish training.  

It makes your body ache. You hardly get sleep. 

People always plead; “Get rest! Go sleep!” 

But you don’t, causing your insomnia to get worse. 

Your days are backwards... You feel trapped. 

Even the Hashira have concerns. 

Until someone sits you down, to talk. 

Zenitsu.

Zenitsu always had your back, and you had his. You always enjoyed each other's presence, even if you weren't the closest.

______________________________________________________________ You gazed at the serene moon. Its gentle light left a glint on the river before you. 

 You wanted to be like the river. Flowing continuously, at a vivacious rate.  

Instead, you were stuck. No matter how hard you trained, you felt like you weren't good enough. 

‘Why am I not good enough? Why am I so damn pathetic?’  

You felt trickles of water at the corners of your eyes. You tried to blink back the stinging, hot tears, but it was no use. 

There were already tears beading down your face. 

You made sure to make no noise, you were afraid of waking someone. 

You heard footsteps, which made you flinch... 

You crunched yourself into a ball and just hoped to not be noticed. 

The footsteps paused.  

‘nonononononono-’ You panicked. 

“Y/N-Chan?” Someone had called. 

You turned around, after wiping your tear-stained cheeks with your sleeve. 

It was Zenitsu.

You really didn’t want him to see you cry.  

Zenitsu had a perplexed look on his face. His features looked worried.

It was silent, only the sounds of the river were present.  

"Y- Y/n-Chan are you okay?!" He panicked. 

You starting crying again, tears beading down your face rapidly.

He rushed to your side, putting his hand on your back.

He looked at you, his amber eyes filled with concern.

"Is everything okay?" He said. His eyes looked so reassuring but you could hear the sadness in his voice.

"I-" You croaked.

'Such a depressing sound..' Zenitsu thought to himself.

"I feel... pathetic." You said, your voice shaky.

Zenitsu's eyes widened. "W- why would you think something like that?" He spoke.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the scene. You looked at the blades of grass dancing in the gentle breeze.

You let your emotions spill out.

"I'm scared, Zenitsu...

I'm terrified.

I feel like I'm not selfless like the other slayers, and I'll never do such amazing things as others.

But when I do more training, it seems to have the opposite affect on me!

I feel more tired and weak, and it makes me want to cry.

To curl up in a ball and cry.

But since im supposed to be the one protecting everybody, I feel like I can't relax for once.

I can't take it anymore!"

You said, your eyes filling with water again, you looked back at the blond, he looked heartbroken.

His golden eyes started to look glossy.

His lip quivered.

He quickly hugged you.

You slightly gasped, enveloped in his firm, yet warm hug.

You hugged him back, you're tears staining his sleepwear.

"I don't ever want you to think of yourself in that way.

I- I think your an amazing, sweet, s- sincere girl, and I don't want you thinking otherwise."

He pulled back and gave a sad smile.

"Your not pathetic. Trust me. If anyone here is pathetic, its me...

Your so brave, and it inspires me so much, and it hurts me so much that you don't see that..." He said.

You sniffled.

He put a hand on your shoulder.

"Sometimes you just need a break, get some rest.. okay?" He said.

"I'll wait with you until you fall asleep okay? Maybe like... a.. Dream watcher!" He joked.

You giggled a bit.

"Okay." You said, a soft smile painted your lips.

You both got up.

"Zenitsu?" You said.

"mhmm?" He softly hummed.

"Thank you, seriously." You said.

He looked into your eyes lovingly.

"Anytime." He weakly smiled.

______________________________________________________________

A/n: dang that took forever. anyways this calmed me down alot for some reason. ahh, I can't get enough of him eeee ////////.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ari um im losing my mind in the most silent way possible rn bc of oliver bllk i cannot believe it. i refuse to admit he got me though but also i think it would be a crime to not acknowledge just a testament to how good the emotional payoff to your writing is

i was stuck when he kept asking for trust during the hookup bc being caught off guard like that due to emotional bleedthrough rings so true in emotionally strange situationships.

i think when you write super perceptive characters like oliver who use sex as a way to communicate what they can’t/won’t verbally say, i truly understand how consuming the psychological aspect of sex can be. like physically demanding yes sure. but for someone to so deeply sink into your psyche that it elevates the entire experience? effectively centering you and your pleasure while talking you through it and stripping every discomfort away? oh i’m so unfortunately stuck on this big bastard. ive never felt my face go so hot so fast and i have never ever stopped to consider that Name in any of these contexts i am shaking him and you by the collar right this minute.

oh my goodness beloved!! hello skjsjd and i understand i do not wish to desire that guy even half as much as i currently i am. im just. like miserably hyperfixated on him to the point its a little life ruining. but i am also glad i could invoke that in you!!!

YES....YOU SEE IT...with oliver it is all about the unspoken you know...the silent communication.. the trusting him with one of your needs but not all and yet sometimes he is so reliable in every aspect...he moves me sometimes..... i dont know

this last part........im crying and throwing up. that is always what i want to communicate!!!! im glad!! i think for a lot of more emotionally dishonest / stoic characters, they communicate themselves in action and sex is ultimately An Action. but for someone like oliver (who by all means and measures is a fascinating soccer player) it is even more apparent that he has a deep understanding of you that translates into sex unintentionally.

having consistent casual sex with someone is, no matter what anyone says, a way of getting to know them quite deeply. and oliver is already perceptive, already intelligent, already self-aware. he is one of the few characters who really does do casual sex well, and the feelings you develop for him outside of that are what make his dynamic So Interesting.

his indirect sincerity towards you in always meeting your sexual needs bubbling into him doing the same in a much, much more tender way all while having full faith that it will be good for you. because he knows whats good for you. because the quiet casual intimacy is always there even though there's never been any explicit romance in it... he makes me fucking nuts i hate everything sdkjhkjdsk

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Miles Fairchild (4/4)

Word count ; 4.5k

*Edited:3

I stirred, feeling warm as I pressed against Miles. I had never felt such strong, good emotions at the same time of such bad emotions. I felt somewhat guilty and regretful, but at the same time, it was the best night of my life. It was a rollercoaster. And now, waking up, that rollercoaster had finally come to a stop. I was completely winded, but in a pleasant way.

I nuzzled against his bare chest, eyes flitting upward to meet his peaceful, sleeping face. His hair was messier than usual, and some strands were stuck to his pale cheeks. His long eyelashes were shut firmly, and his lips looked dry from a good night’s rest. 

I sat up slightly, despite how tightly his arm was wound around my chest. My body felt cold as it separated from him, and I felt rather embarrassed from the state we were in, even if Miles looked adorable. If Mrs. Grose found out… 

Well, I shouldn’t think about it right now. I grabbed Miles arm and slid it off me so he was hugging his own waist instead. I sat up straight, holding the blanket to my bare chest. I gulped down the rising embarrassment, glancing around the bedroom. Strewn on the floor was our slightly damp clothes, and some dirt was trailing from the doorway. The bed was messier than usual and the lamp was still turned on, so I clicked it off.

I kicked my legs off the side of the bed, releasing a breath that was caught in my throat. My heart felt oddly tender, despite last night’s events. My gaze always returned to the sleeping boy, and I couldn’t help but think back to last night’s events.

“Calm down, Y/n! Just —"

“How fucking dare you tell me to calm down!” I shrieked, trying to push Miles away. He was holding my shoulders to the rocky shore, appearing to be very distressed. Despite his frail-seeming form, he was strong. He was straddling me to the ground while I flailed beneath him, gritting my teeth.

“It’s fine. Just breathe, Y/n. Please,” he pleaded, and I reluctantly sucked in my words. Miles had veins popping out of his lower arms, His chest was heaving and he did not look happy. “Listen, I know what it looks like. But everyone knows what that bastard did. He deserved it —!”

“That doesn’t mean you can let Mrs. Grose get away with it!” I retorted furiously, trying shove him away again. “We have to call the police —"

“Mrs. Grose didn’t do it,” he seethed, leering over me venomously. “She doesn’t have the pluck to do what’s necessary. I love you, Y/n. I relished the opportunity to strangle the life out of him. That asshole deserves to burn in hell.”

I fell silent, my knuckles growing paler from how hard I was clenching my fists. My mouth grew dry and it was like my worst nightmare had become true.

I always thought Peter Quint had made a run for it to avoid the cops. His disappearance was abrupt. And yet, everyone around me, minus Flora, acted like he deserved it. And I always found that odd, because he was a criminal. He didn’t deserve to get away.

It turns out that he didn’t. And Miles… had the hands and face of a murderer.

My mind went completely blank. I hated Quint with every fiber of my being because he hurt me and made me hate myself. And yet, he was a human being. I would’ve preferred he had just rotted in jail. And what would I do with Miles? I didn’t know what to feel —

Miles had inched closer to my face, and I could see the disparity in his eyes. Was I a bad person for still liking him? Was a murder really enough to convince me of him being a terrible person? I wanted so desperately to hate his guts, and yet I couldn’t. I was almost grateful for what he did.

“I love you, Y/n,” Miles whispered fervently. “Please… understand that.”

I gulped again, staring into his dark eyes. His grip on my shoulders loosened, and I propped myself up on my elbows slightly. My heart was beating erratically in my chest, but seemingly for a different reason now. Subconsciously, my tongue rolled over my bottom lip, causing the man to glance momentarily.

All of his anger dissolved, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. And just like that, he closed the gap, pressing his lips to mine. With one arm, I wrapped around his neck, and with the other, I pushed myself closer to him. One of his arms weaved around my waist and he pulled me into a sitting position, deepening the kiss. 

Miles suddenly pulled away, eyes half-lidded and prying for more. I couldn’t help but melt under his loving gaze. 

“We should get back home,” he stated, his voice hushed.

An unfamiliar feeling blossomed in my stomach and I found myself nodding, not breaking eye contact.

I blinked, just now noticing that Miles had turned on his side and was feeling beside him. His brows furrowed and his eyes finally fluttered open. He tugged on the blanket, forcing me to release a part of it. It made me feel a little more exposed, much to my shame. 

Miles finally flitted his eyes open, and a tired grin braced his lips. “Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning, Miles,” I tittered. “You might want to get yourself back into your own room. I mean, Mrs. Grose could come in any moment and chew my ear off —"

“Stop worrying about that old hag. I’m the boss around here. If she really bothers you that much, I’ll just fire her —"

Miles sat up instantly and wrapped himself behind me, arms tightly wound around my waist. He propped his head on my shoulder, his hair tickling my cheek. I couldn’t help but lean into him, although I made sure to keep a tight hold on the blanket.

“Jesus Christ, Miles, you can’t do that,” I exclaimed, nudging him with my shoulder. “Now, scram, Miles. As… lovely as this is, I have to get to work.”

Miles growled under his breath, pulling me back into his chest. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, peppering a few kisses across the nape of my neck. As much as I appreciated the affection, I also didn’t want our newfound… relationship… getting in the way of my job. Miles may see it differently because he was a spoiled and wealthy, but I still had to earn my keep for the sake of my sanity.

I finally detached his arms, letting the blanket fall, although I used my hands as a shield. I could feel Miles staring me down excitedly, but I tried to ignore that. I dashed over to the piles of strewn clothes and tossed all but Miles into my laundry basket before sifting through my dresser. I pulled out the maid outfit, hearing Miles roll back into bed, much to my chagrin. 

I looked myself over in the mirror, adjusting my outfit. I dolled myself up in the mirror, trying to clear my head. Mrs. Grose was an observant woman, so if even one behavior of mine was absent, and Miles was parading like a king, she’d know something was up. As much as she was like a mentor, she was much more a boss, and she could be terrifying when reprimanding me.

I finally exited the bathroom, seeing that Miles had fallen asleep again. I wanted to convince him to sleep in his own bed, but I knew that when the man made up his mind about something, there was no changing it. I could only hope that Mrs. Grose didn’t question his… unruly appearance if she so happened to check to wake him up.

When I was about to leave the room, I heard Miles mutter my name, and he rolled closer to the side. I withheld a worried sigh, stepping over to him. His thin hand reached out and grabbed my puffy skirt. I placed my hand on his, and he fluttered his gorgeous eyes at me.

“Are you really choosing to work, Y/n?”

“Seeing as this place would be a mess without me, yes,” I chuckled. “Just let me do your job, okay?”

Miles groaned loudly, grabbing my skirt tighter. “At least give me a kiss before you go. You’re my girlfriend.”

“Ah,” I hummed playfully. “Thanks for asking first.” 

I crouched down, and he finally released me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I stroked his cheek affectionately before giving him a quick kiss. He leaned into it expectantly, but let out a frustrated growl when I pulled away almost instantly. Smugly, I bid him one more good morning before rushing off for my morning chores.

~~~

“My only regret is not seeing you grow up.”

“The Fairchilds are your new family. They will take great care of you.”

“I love you and always will.”

Some days, my mom’s dying words from when I made my last visit to the hospital echoed in my head. I could still hear her voice when I needed it most. Even when her head was bald, her skin was frail and thin, and she could barely stay awake, her voice was light and positive. The cancer could never take that away from her.

So, I always rehearsed what she said on off days. But the past few weeks have been getting progressively worse. I had caught some sort of illness, and I dreaded the possibilities because I couldn’t help but think…

No. We only did it once.

Once again, I was rudely woken up by my twisting and turning stomach. I dashed over to the bathroom and threw the toilet seat up, retching violently. At first, nothing came out, but after a few minutes, out can chunks of last night’s dinner. It splattered against the side.

A few minutes of vomiting later, my stomach finally settled, although a dull ache still resided. I let out a quiet sob. All of the signs pointed to the inevitable, but I didn’t want to believe it.

My period was late. This was akin to morning sickness. I was constantly peeing and constantly tired. I could barely complete my daily chores like I used to.

Maybe it was the stomach flu, though. So thank god Mrs. Grose, with all of her suspicions, called a private doctor in to visit later this morning.

I heard my bedroom door open just as I rose to my wobbling feet and flushed the toilet. I assumed Miles had entered. He’d been waking up early and being more attentive ever since I caught this mysterious illness. He already brought up the idea of pregnancy. - and was oddly excited by the prospect - but I shot him down every time. It was possible, but not like, possible possible.

I rinsed my mouth out and did my morning routine. I used a hot towel for my stomach, tucking it neatly into my pajamas, before exiting the bathroom. Lo and behold, Miles was there, sitting at the edge of my bed with his legs crossed. He was in his usual morning attire, meaning loose pajama bottoms and no shirt. Usually he would be groggy, but it was like he was getting used to waking up at a decent time.

“Again?” he questioned with a quirked brow, eyeing my stomach.

I tensed, not meeting his intensely serious gaze. “It’s… just the stomach flu. There’s no way that happened.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his cheeks. “Yes way, actually. All it takes is one time —"

My nonexistent temper suddenly flared, and I clenched my fists. “Shut up, Miles! It’s not possible. I told you you should’ve pulled out, or at the very minimum gone to town and bought some meds for the aftermath, but you’re the one who said it would be fine!”

Miles had a prominent frown on his face now, and sent me a stern glower. “I don’t get why you’d be so against it, anyways. It’s not like there’s a money problem —"

Anxious shivers rolled down my spine and I rubbed my forehead. “God, you’re not making my morning any better. Just get out. I don’t want to see you. Leave me alone. I’m already stressed as it is —!”

Miles suddenly rose to his feet, just as irritated. His face had grown red and he took a few steps toward me. “You don’t have to be! It’s obvious what’s going on here. It doesn’t take a genius. Are you that scared of having a future with me?”

I had so many things I wanted to say. But I knew how stubborn he was. He wouldn’t get it. As much as I wanted to believe it was a stomach flu, he was right. It was obvious. But god, I wish it wasn’t. I wish, instead of letting my emotions control me, I had been rational and prevented the situation in the first place. In fact, I shouldn’t like Miles at all. He killed someone. A bad someone, who I preferred dead, but someone none the less.

His words were enough to make guilt-stricken tears roll down my cheeks. I was angry, sad, and all that good stuff that negativity preyed on. I was stupid. I became stupid the minute I came here with my mom. Something was always going to happen between me and Miles, but clearly, nothing should’ve.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I just don’t get what the problem is —"

“Out!” I shrieked, pointing at the door. “Get out, you psycho! Leave me alone!”

Miles was visibly taken aback by my fury, and I was grateful when he stepped down from the fight. With his tail between his legs and but a glower in his eyes, he stalked out of my bedroom. That left me alone to theorize and worry until the doctor arrived, because at the very least, I didn’t have as much work to do.

I plopped onto the bed, readjusting the hot towel. I massaged my stomach with the cloth, feeling somewhat soothed. I lay back on the bed just as the bedroom door opened again. Instantly, I assumed it would be Miles, but instead, in came Flora with a tiny plate of leftovers.

“Y/n! Mrs. Grose told me to bring you breakfast,” she greeted eagerly, an adorable smile plastered to her face.

I lifted some pillows to support my back as I sat up, smiling gratefully. The girl was so innocent and sweet. Like my own little sister. “Thank you, Flora. That’s very kind of you.”

Flora giggled, handing me the plate. As I took it, she hopped onto the bed next to me. She kicked her feet in the air, her puffy pink dress bouncing on her lap. She looked at me expectantly as I fiddled with the pieces of toast before shoving one into my mouth. It tasted like toast. It was perfectly fine, although I craved something else.

“Big brother says you’re having a baby,” Flora suddenly spoke up. “Are you really? How does it work?”

My mouth went dry and I stopped chewing. I cleared my throat, replying,” Well, maybe I am. And how it works… It takes two people that really love each other —"

“Wow! I always knew Miles was in love with you. That’s so-o-o romantic,” she giggled. “It’s just like the stories mom used to read to me!”

I strained a smile. The child knew absolutely nothing about what really was going on in the household, and it was better that way. I watched as she excitedly ran off, leaving me to my lonesome. I finished my meal before setting it on my bedside table. My stomach aches had left me once more, but I preferred to wait for the doctor in peace.

Just as I was dozing off, my bedroom door suddenly swung open loudly. I jumped, being met with an unfamiliar, posh man and Mrs. Grose, who was incredibly unhappy. Miles also entered, leaning against the wall. I sat on the edge of my bed, legs kicked off. Anxiety consumed me as the doctor pulled a seat over and opened his kit.

“So, Miss Y/n, care to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

I exchanged glances with Miles. He was smug. I was terrified. I gulped, though, answering, "Well, I’ve been feeling sick every morning. I feel really tired when I do too much. I threw up again just today.”

The doctor nodded, sending me a wary glance. He clasped his hands together in his lap. “Miss Y/n, have you been sexually active?”

My heart dropped. Of course that was the first answer to run to. Everyone thought it, but it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Mrs. Grose was staring at me with such intensity that I was about to melt there on the spot. And yet, I had to say it. I just had to.

“Well —"

“Yes!” Miles suddenly spoke up eagerly. “I’m - she - we’re dating. We’re, like, in love.”

Oh. Oh no, honey. That was the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Grose’s expression went completely blank, but when she returned to the real world, she was pissed. It was as clear as day. If not for mortal limitations, she would be ablaze on the spot from her anger. My knuckles grew pale as I stared at Miles incredulously, to which he just shrugged knowingly.

The doctor cleared his throat, sifting through the awkwardness. “Well, then, Miss Y/n. I think you know where this is going.” He began searching through his bag before pulling out a thin stick. “So, what you need to do is urinate on it and then ash it off for sanitation. The results will come in in a few minutes.”

In shame, I snatched it from him. I was completely in autopilot mode as I marched to the bathroom and did as he said. I was quick to rush out, though, not wanting to see the results. Surprisingly, Miles stole it from Mrs. Grose, who stole it from the doctor, who stole it from me. As long as I couldn’t see it, that was fine by me, though.

The passing moments were deafening. At some point, Miles clambered onto the bed beside me. Flora had also dipped into the bedroom, bugging Mrs. Grose about what was going on, although she was quickly shewed away. Miles was staring at the stick with such excitement and hope, and I almost felt bad for being so scared. After all, here he was, overjoyed at the prospect and rubbing my legs and arms while waiting for the result.

Miles eyes widened. “Hey. What does this mean? Is this the result? It’s just lines. Doctor, what does it mean?” he exclaimed, shoving the stick at the doctor.

The doctor took one glance. “Two lines means that you are pregnant, Miss Y/n. Mrs. Grose, I’m sure you’d like to talk about procedures and medical care outside —"

“Yes,” Mrs. Grose boomed, hardly containing her anger. “Let’s talk. Outside.” 

Mrs. Grose was gone in a flash, and so was the doctor. That left me and Miles. He was seemingly bursting at the sees with happiness, but I… I didn’t know what to feel. My hands found themselves palming at my stomach absentmindedly.

“Y/n,” Miles called, placing his hand on my knee. “This is perfect.”

I grabbed his warm hand, squeezing it without care of hurting him, He let out a tense grunt, rearranging his hand. He pulled it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it. My heart, which had seemingly stopped, began beating at his gentle affection. With blurry vision, I finally met his gaze. I furrowed my brows. 

He was staring at me with such unadulterated adoration. His eyes were not the one of violent teenager or a murderer. They were the eyes of Miles, a sweet man who had his faults, but still treated me like royalty.

“But…” I squeaked, my voice waiving with uncertainty, "I didn’t - I’m - we’re too young… I haven’t planned at all —"

“Shh,” he interrupted softly. “Y/n, I’ve dreamed of this happening my whole life. Life will be a breeze. We have the money, we have the love, we have the time —"

“I need to work. You need to work. Life isn’t this easy, Miles —"

“I know! I know it isn’t.. I’ll take over dad’s companies. It’s that simple. I’ll work from home and all that. Things’ll work out.”

I sighed, finally casting my gaze away. Miles was a stubborn guy. He always had been. And he looked so happy. I guess… I couldn’t really take it away from him. Things wouldn’t be that different anyways, would it? Just one extra kid running around the house and my relationship with Miles being far more intimate —

The bedroom door burst open, and in came Mrs. Grose. Her face was burning red and her fists were clenched. I didn’t even get the chance to mentally prepare myself as she slammed the door behind her.

“You terrible, terrible children! Miles, you are an adult with responsibilities who doesn’t have time for being irresponsible. And you, Y/n. I cannot stress my disappointment. You have lived in the Fairchild household rent free your entire life, and yet you still intend to shun your duties and use your boss for money! As far as I’m concerned, you’re done. Pack your things —"

“How fucking dare you!” Miles suddenly shrieked at the top of his lungs. He rose to his feet aggressively, stomping closer to the woman. He was red in the face with fury, and he was staring down at her. “Get it through your thick skull, old hag. I’m the adult here. I’m your boss. You have no right to insult her —"

“I do because I have dedicated my entire life to serving your family, Miles,” she retorted with just as much of a fiery passion. “You’re insulting me by bringing shame to the household. You two aren’t even married, and yet you’re to commit such heinous crimes!”

I could do nothing but clutch my belly in embarrassment. Mrs. Grose was right. It was irresponsible and there had to be consequences. I had fully prepared myself for her blowing up. But on the other side, Miles made it easy for things to be okay. He was my shield in all this. As violent and evil as he could be, he was angel to me, and that made all the difference in influencing my opinion of him. I trusted Miles.

“You’re the one that treats her like shit,” Miles growled, suddenly pushing Mrs. Grose, causing her to collide into the wall with a gasp. Worry washed over me, although it vanished when her glare washed over me. “You act like she’s not a part of the fucking family. Like she hasn’t been my fucking soulmate since she was brought here. Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, hag, because I’m your boss. I’m in control of this house.”

Mrs. Grose scowled, closing the distance. Despite how intimidating the man was, she refused to be pushed around any longer. She shoved his finger into his chest, meeting his enraged expression. “You’re nothing but a little boy. Stop disrespecting me and stop letting your little crush control you. If you started thinking clearly, you’d want the same as me. As to fire her and let her go —"

The old woman was mid sentence when Miles arm shot out, grabbing her throat. One hand was strangling her against the wall, and the other held her shoulder in place as she writhed against him, palming at his face and chest. Her face was quickly growing pale, and the realization of what he was doing dawned on me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, but Miles was so concentrated he was deaf to it. I jumped to my feet, pain shooting through my stomach. I noticed the door creaking open slightly, but my focus was still on Miles. The woman was growing weak.

I grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging desperately. “Miles, stop, please! What would Flora think? Let her go!”

All of a sudden, he released her, and Mrs. Grose crumpled to her knees, clawing at her throat as she clawed for air. Miles gaze was stoney as he watched the woman. My entire body was shaking with fright, but mostly concern. The argument had been blown out of proportion, and out of the corner of my eye, I knew that Flora had witnessed the entire thing.

But that wasn’t important. I finally released his shirt, bowing my head in shame. Oh, what a terrible person I was for tolerating such behavior. For loving a man like him so. I stepped away just as Miles, still panting from the adrenaline, turned to face me exasperatedly.

“Y/n, I told you everything would be alright,” he cooed, grabbing my shoulders gently.

A few tears escaped and I trembled in his hold. Mrs. Grose made her escape, taking Flora with her. Good. I shook my head, hair falling in my face like a curtain. “No, Miles, it isn’t. You’re a bad person. You almost killed her. She had a right to be angry —"

“Not at you,” he seethed. “Never at you. At me? I couldn’t give a shit. But I have a family to protect. Our family —"

“Not anymore,” I boldly declared, although my voice was reluctant. “Mrs. Grose was right. I should leave. For my own safety. How long will it be before that anger is directed at me?”

His grip tightened, and I gasped, but he pulled me into his chest. My tears stained his shirt as one hand held my waist and the other pet my hair. He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his voice muffled as he spoke. “No, Y/n, I would never. I love you. Mrs. Grose is just a bitch —"

“She’s doing her job, Miles. It’s a shit situation and if you loved me, you’d let me leave. You terrify me. I don’t care if I love you. I’m not stupid —"

“You’re not stupid for loving me!” he insisted, holding me closer. Somehow, all my fear dissolved, but I just became afraid of myself for being so forgiving. “I would do anything for you, Y/n. I’m only like that to people who deserve it. We should all just… calm down.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He sighed, his breath tickling my neck. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. 

“I’ll fire her. She can easily be replaced. But you could never. Especially now. Things will be easy from now on. Things will be good. Trust me, Y/n. You know I love you and you love me. Okay?”

[sukirichi]

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna 

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

[noteguk]

pretty in pink | kth | m

— summary; in which you try to rekindle your sex life with a devilish plan and a very sexy, very pink set of langerie. 

— contents and warnings; smut, a bit of fluff, marriage au, taehyung x reader, mischievous use of lingerie, dirty talk, dom!tae x sub!reader, pretty heavy dom/sub themes, constant use of the word “sir”, begging, Tae has a big dick, cock worship, blowjob, deepthroat, cum eating, fingering, hair pulling, a bit of praise, degradation (use of slut/cockslut), but also use of pet names (honey, love, baby, doll…), mentions of cum play, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, impreg kink if you squint, being nasty in the name of love 

— words; 6,4k 

— author’s note; homies… this is basically one long smut scene. There are like 3 paragraphs of context. Brain empty no excuse. 

Requested by anon! Requests are currently closed. 

By the time that Taehyung got home, you had pretty much forgotten you had a plan in the first place.

He removed his shoes after closing the door behind him, his coat hanging over his forearm and an expression of exhaustion plastered all over his face. “Hi, honey,” he called, only slightly aware of your silhouette coming out of the kitchen and into the living room. “How was your day?” 

Now, you see, your day had two main parts. The first (the usual one), was the part that started as soon as your husband left home for work, and you made your unceremonious walk towards the kitchen table, where you proceeded to work yourself. A few years back, you had managed to score an amazing job in the tech industry which allowed you to work mostly from home, and get a great salary while you’re at it — one downside, though, was that things started to get a bit lonely as your husband’s hours increased. 

You knew that Taehyung wasn’t doing it on purpose: he was working hard for a promotion, one that could considerably improve your living situation, and you wouldn’t shoot his plans down like that. But it was a bit disheartening to see him leaving so early and getting home so late, sometimes only after you had already gone to bed. And, besides the emotional void growing inside of you, there was also the sexual one you needed to take care of. 

Which leads you to the second part of your day. The scheming one. 

You and Taehyung used to have an extremely active sex life, practically fucking like rabbits throughout your dating, engagement, and marriage phases. But now things had started to cool down — really, no one’s fault: Taehyung was too tired most days and you felt too moody — and you had started to grow a bit desperate. It wasn’t as if the two of you never had sex anymore, it was just mostly a very vanilla, very boring, once-every-weekend-maybe kind of thing. 

All that being said, it’s understandable why you had started to construct a plan to rekindle that old, dying-out flame of yours. You didn’t want to do anything crazy — regardless of how interesting the idea of handcuffing your husband was, you didn’t think the best approach would be to scare him away from the get-go — so you eventually settled for a few things he particularly liked from back in the dating days. 

(You felt so old thinking that.)  

Number one: baby pink lingerie, the lacy kind. You didn’t know what kind of intense reaction it unleashed in your husband’s primal brain, but you knew that those were his favorites, and that Taehyung never stopped until he could take them off you. For that special occasion, you had even gone out and bought yourself a new set, matched with some semi-transparent thigh high socks that you also knew he loved. Cover all that up with a loose satin robe (the same color, of course), and you were ready to go. 

Number two: a healthy amount of roleplay, matched with absolute submission from your part. Now, that’s where the money was: even if, by some curse placed on him by working countless hours in a corporate, hyper-capitalist job, Taehyung didn’t react to your very sexy, very skimpy set of new lingerie, you knew that would get a reaction out of him. It was exactly the dynamic the two of you liked the most, and you still remembered exactly how to push his buttons. 

It was a perfect plan. 

Only, you forgot about it. 

“It was fine, finally finished coding that page after a bazillion years,” you responded, placing your mug on the coffee table before throwing yourself on the couch. The signs of old age were approaching: your back hurt so much that you could only think about sleeping for the next ten hours. “And yours?” 

Taehyung hadn’t really looked at you yet, instead fighting to hang his coat next to the door. “It was good, actually. My boss told me he has some good news to tell me tomorrow.” 

Your eyes lit up. “You’re getting that promotion?” 

He sighed. “Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t wanna get any expectations, you know my boss. Maybe he’ll just give me a new stapl— What the hell do you have on?” 

You paused, looking down at yourself. Oh. Yeah. You had forgotten about that. Or, rather, you forgot about the second part of your plan — because your very pink, very exposed underwear was staring you right in the face. 

Still, you managed to keep yourself composed. “It’s new, do you like it?” You smiled, pulling your satin robe to the side. It exposed your breasts, made Taehyung clench his jaw at the sight. You needed to snap into submissive mode soon enough if you wanted that to work, but you also needed a few seconds to center yourself. “Baby?” 

You watched as your husband blinked his way back into reality, taking a hesitant step towards you. You wanted to laugh: Taehyung was looking at you like there was a tiger in his living room, and he was trying to find out the best possible approach to deal with it. 

And that was the perfect time to strike. 

You pouted, hand slithering down to the level of your waist so you could untie the loose knot of the robe. “You don’t like it, sir?” The innocent inflection of your voice made his eyes snap up at yours, something dark starting to swim on the bottom of his irises. He was catching the drift. “I bought it just for you.” The robe was pushed to the side, presenting him with the glorious view of your panties; those socks that made him want to bury his face between your thighs. Taehyung took another step in your direction. “If you want, I can change into something else.” 

Just like magic, Taehyung’s expression of exhaustion had been casted away, replaced by one of sheer, unshakable lust. Your breath almost got stuck in your throat as he placed his hands inside the pockets of his pants and took a few silent steps towards the couch. “Don’t change it,” he spoke up. His voice was deep and velvety, shot straight down to your core. “You look beautiful, love.” 

You smiled as he sat down next to you. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Of course.” Taehyung’s large hand cupped your cheek, and you leaned into his warm touch. His calm disposition was a threatening thing, it got you on edge as his gaze trailed down to your lips; your breasts; your thighs. He hummed. “Want my doll to look pretty for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you said promptly. His eyes were back on yours in no time, thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Can you kiss me, sir?” 

His hand brushed down your face, moving onto your neck. Taehyung was thinking of what to do to you, and you were kind enough to wait. “Does my baby want a kiss?” He asked and you nodded. “Very well. Sit on my lap, love.” 

You could barely contain your excitement as you followed his order, one leg moving over his thighs so you could straddle him. Taehyung sighed in content as you sat on his erection, which only made the arousal between your legs grow. 

“My girl is beautiful, isn’t she?” He mumbled to himself, hands swiftly pulling your robe down your shoulders. A cold breeze embraced your body as the discarded piece of clothing fell somewhere on the floor. “But so, so quick to misbehave.” 

Your heartbeat quickened. “I didn’t misbehave, sir.” 

“You did, love,” Taehyung spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child. His movements were tender when he pushed your hair away from your face, but you knew there was wickedness hiding in those still waters. “You are trying to provoke me.” 

“I’m not,” you lied. 

“You are.” His hands placed themselves on your waist, pulling your body closer to his. They were a bit firmer than before, spreading goosebumps through your skin as they slithered down your lower back, palming your ass cheeks. “You put this on because you wanted me to fuck you, baby. Don’t lie to me now.” 

Your hand started playing with his tie, eyes following the movement of your fingers so you could avoid his penetrative gaze. “Sorry, sir.” 

His finger found the underside of your chin, pushing it up. You couldn’t escape those eyes, he wouldn’t allow you to. “Why are you apologizing?” He asked calmly. His other hand was still firm on your ass, squeezing the flesh. “I’m not mad. I just find it funny.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Funny?” You echoed. 

“Yes, doll,” Taehyung said. “Funny the lengths you go to just because you want my cock.” 

Heat exploded on your cheeks at his dirty words, your own speech getting stuck in your throat. You were in trouble, and it was exactly what you had been looking for. 

“Hm? Not gonna say anything?” He egged you on, leaning his head to the side. You wanted to touch him, to kiss him, but you knew that things would follow his own pace. “My baby’s so horny for cock she’s not gonna even answer me?” 

His words were suffocating you, earning a timid roll of your hips against his hard member. Your underwear was absolutely soaked and you could barely think straight. “I want you, sir,” was what you managed to get out. 

“I know,” Taehyung said, his tone so nonchalant, so passive. His knuckles brushed tenderly against your cheek, a sly smirk curling up on his lips. “My pretty little slut just wants to get fucked so bad, doesn’t she?” 

You nodded. “Yes.”

He hummed, the corners of his lips moving down in disapproval. “Yes…?”

“Yes, sir,” you were quick to correct yourself, hands slithering up his shoulders and behind his neck. It was electrifying how Taehyung managed to get you so worked up so quickly, his unbothered stare burning holes on your skin. You felt so small like that, and you knew he was getting high on the power play. Some things never change. “Sorry, sir.” 

“Mhm.” Taehyung didn’t grant you forgiveness so fast, instead leaning back on the couch and analyzing your demeanor. “I don’t know if you deserve my cock, though.” 

You blinked, not hesitating for a second. “I do deserve it, sir.”

He scoffed, both of his hands back on your waist. His palms were heavy and warm against your skin, and you could not hold back the thought of having his fingers moving in and out of you. No matter how many times Taehyung touched you, his hands were just so big that he got you seeing stars in no time, filling you up and reaching deep inside you in ways that your own fingers never could. “Show me, then.” His firm voice broke your reveries, digits pressing down on your naked flesh. “You can kiss me now.”

Obedient, you leaned in and trapped his mouth in yours. It was a different world when Taehyung was in that headspace — often, he would kiss you so eagerly, so hungry for more, but, now, his mouth was barely following yours; a disinterested hum melting past his throat, silently daring you to try harder, to show him that you were worth his time. You dug your fingers in his soft hair and placed your tongue inside his mouth, trying to be the best you could be for him and, yet, it seemed as if he was deadset on giving you the bare minimum reaction. 

At the same time, you still felt the effects of that kiss, your body heating up as you moaned against his mouth. Taehyung’s hands had traveled downwards and were now tugging at your panties, pulling them up and burying them between your asschecks. It made your back arch; there was a slight pressure on your clit that got you grinding down on his cock. He sighed at that, sucking on your tongue as one of his hands slithered beneath your panties, harshly groping your ass. 

You swore he was just about to get into it when he decided to pull away. Slightly breathless and completely overwhelmed, you could only watch as Taehyung tilted his head to the side and, just as nonchalant as before, asked, “What do we say, doll?”

Lucky you, you knew the answer to that question. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Very well.” He caressed your cheek once more, eyes trapped on the swell of your lips. Taehyung’s mind was flickering through the details of you — your breasts, your thighs, the perfect weight of your center against his — as he slowly figured out what he wanted to do to you. At last, he made up his mind. “On your knees.” 

To move away from his embrace seemed to be a medieval sort of torture, but you did as he told you. You were on your knees in no time, the harsh wooden floor hurting your flesh when you looked up at him, expectant. 

Taehyung leaned forward, trapping your chin between his fingers. “So pretty, aren’t you, doll?” He asked, voice velvety and slow. “Wanna be good for me?” 

You nodded, eager to please him. 

With a deep exhale, he moved back, spreading his arms over the couch’s back. “Good. Take my cock out,” he commanded. You stared up at him for a second too long, waiting to see if that was a test. It was a bit suspicious, after all: he used to tease you for far longer than that before even allowing you to touch him. And, because Taehyung knew you very well, he caught your trail of thought quickly enough. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Go on.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, just to be sure, and took your hands to his pants. Taehyung had chosen one of his most beautiful suits to work that day, and the dark grey shade did not conceal his erection in the slightest. 

The smallest of things got you waiting for more: the sound of his pants being pulled down, apparently so loud in that silent living room; the gradual rise and fall of his chest; the wet mark on his underwear and the straining of his hard, leaking cock against the fabric. It was a good kind of anticipation, for you loved when Taehyung got you on the edge like that, unsure of what would follow, of how he would treat you. 

Truth was: you loved being good for him, loved treating him as well as you could. Above all, you loved when he praised you for it, all warm touches and kind regards. But also, you adored when he made you work for those praises, glancing down at you like you were bothering him, like you couldn’t do anything right, not even pleasure him. 

His cock was out soon after, heavy in your hands. Taehyung managed to control his demeanor rather well, but you could see that he was extremely turned on: tip reddened and covered in his precum, his length fully hard and throbbing as you gave him a small, tentative pump. 

“Spit on it,” he said. “Come on, you know better than to touch me dry.” 

You nodded, doing as he told you. A big glob of saliva dripped down onto his member, which you used to help with your movements. Saliva wasn’t lube, that’s true, but it did manage to calm down his attitude for a bit. 

Being married meant that you had grown extremely used to each other’s bodies and, just like Taehyung knew your weak spots like the back of his hand, you knew his. Soon enough, you had your tongue trailing the underside of his cock, placing a special pressure on his frenulum. Taehyung inhaled sharply, hands digging to the sofa cushions as you lethargically continued your actions, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip and tasting his precum. 

“In your mouth,” he ordered, “now.” 

Eager to please him, your lips wrapped around his crown and you gradually began sinking down on him. Taehyung was thick, always gave you a hard time as you slowly grew used to his size inside your mouth; a strangled moan perishing in your throat as you took him in. Above you, the man groaned in satisfaction, one of his large hands resting on the back of your head. 

“Move.”

You agreed with a whimper, closing your eyes as your mouth moved up and down on his member, cheeks hollowing every time you sucked him. Taehyung got you just the way that he liked: so small beneath him, with your doll-like eyes looking up at him through a thin curtain of your tears. He always thought you looked so pretty with his cock inside your mouth, your perfect lips and tongue making him lose his mind. 

“Fuck. Such a good cockslut.” He raised his hips just enough to reach deeper inside your throat, making you gag around him. The sound was beautiful to his ears, turned into a much more heavenly symphony when it quickly morphed into a muffled moan. Taehyung loved watching you struggle with his size, it made him want to break you apart. “You like my cock, baby?” 

You nodded, but it seemed like it wasn’t enough. Taehyung tugged in your hair, signaling that he wanted you to remove your mouth from him. He needed to hear you say it, and you were beyond happy to oblige. “I love it, sir,” you told him, your voice a bit groggy from your previous act. “So much. It’s so huge.” 

“Suck it harder, then.” His own voice was a bit airy, not so rough around the edges. He must’ve been close. “Show me how much you love it.” 

This time, just a simple nod from your part satisfied him, for he allowed your mouth to wrap around his cock once again. Without hesitation, you did as he told you to, sucking his cock harder, taking it deeper than you were before. Your new approach was a gift from god, it appeared, because it took you no time to have Taehyung’s animosity meeting away. 

“That’s it, that’s my dirty girl,” he praised, fingers intertwined in your hair. You could feel his big cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing precum. It was just a matter of time before he spilled himself inside your mouth. “Gonna make me cum like a good slut.” 

You moaned around him, one hand moving down to play with his balls. Taehyung hissed at the sensation, throwing his head back and groaning something you couldn’t quite grasp. There were beautiful droplets of sweat accumulating just above his white collar — it was almost humiliating how naked you felt when compared to his dressed, composed self — and this thick neck seemed to be calling for you, wishing that you’d place hot, messy kisses all over it. But you couldn’t do it just yet, not when he was about to cum down your throat. 

Taehyung’s breath hitched and you instantly knew that he was just there. A couple more seconds and your theory was proven right: he grunted as his hot cum filled your mouth, a vague rising of his hips making his tip hit the back of your throat. “Fuck,” he cursed. “Don’t swallow yet.”

Oh he was in that mood, it seemed. 

Apparently your plan had worked better than expected, because it had been a long time since Taehyung didn’t ask you to swallow his cum right away. As much as he adored when you did that, he also loved seeing his cum on you — splattered on your abdomen, on your tits, on your ass; maybe running between your pussy lips after he was done fucking you or, in that case, in your mouth. You didn’t quite understand the appeal that it had, but who were you to judge? 

You removed his cock from your mouth soon after, filled with expectation as he shifted above you, leaning in closer. You blinked up at him as his hand found the underside of your jaw. 

“Let me see.” Taehyung pulled on your chin and you quickly got your cue, opening your mouth. A flash of lust shimmered inside his eyes at the sight of his cum inside your mouth, the corner of his lips being tugged upwards into a satisfied smirk. “Perfect. Swallow now.” He closed your mouth. 

Once again, you did as he commanded. “Thank you, sir,” you said. The discomfort between your legs was growing at a fast progression, monopolizing your mind — you had already been so good to your husband, did everything that he told you to, and now your own arousal was getting the best of you. You shifted around on the ground, your knees still hurting a bit. “Sir, please…”

Taehyung hummed, caressing your cheek. “What is it?” 

“I'm so horny, I wanna cum,” you whined. 

“Is that so?” Taehyung questioned, thumb caressing your bottom lip. It was a bit swollen after you had blown him, made him want to bite it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch. “Stand up.” 

You fumbled as you got up to your feet, unsure of what to do next. Luckily, you didn’t have to think about it for long, because Taehyung soon gripped you by the hips and pulled you closer to him, your shins knocking on the sofa. His fingers were surprisingly tender as they slowly navigated towards your pussy, pulling the dainty pink fabric aside. “Love the color,” he mumbled as if he was talking to himself. You were just about to thank him, but your words were ripped out of you when his finger sunk between your folds. “Look at my girl. Got this wet just by sucking my cock, baby?” He looked up at you. You felt dizzy under his intense gaze, barely nodding in return. He smiled. “How dirty.” 

You wanted to touch him, to find support on his broad shoulders, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to. Instead, you merely gasped as Taehyung started toying with your sensitive entrance, feeling as if your legs would fail you at any time. “Sir, please,” you pleaded once more, “I need you.” 

He hummed, one finger slowly entering you. You practically melted as Taehyung added a second one right away, curling them up in the way you loved so much. “Yes, darling, I heard you.” But it didn’t seem like he did, for his hungry gaze was trapped on the sinking of his digits inside your tight hole. You were so on edge that you could cum just like that; a few desperate whimpers already dripping from your lips as he continued his movements. Your sounds seemed to drag him back to reality, though, for he was soon removing them from your pussy, ignoring your frustrated cries. “Go to the bedroom.” His eyes snapped up at you. “You better be naked in bed when I get there.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

If you didn’t know Taehyung as well as you did, perhaps that command would’ve taken the worries off your shoulders. However, the thing was: when your husband was in that headspace, you could never really predict what would come from it. Just because he had sent you to the bedroom, it didn’t mean that he would suddenly become pliant and adamant to fulfill your every need — if anything, it meant that he had enough energy and discipline to spare. If he wanted to fuck you straight away (like you had begged him to), he would’ve just taken you on the couch, like he had done countless times before. No, the fact that he was sending you — alone — to the bedroom was probably not such a good sign. 

When you entered the suite, you started removing your bra, then your panties and, finally, the thigh high socks. You felt yourself become more and more uneasy as you laid down bare on the bed, feeling as small shock waves of anticipation ran through your body. Every time you heard a noise coming from somewhere else in the apartment, your heart missed a beat. 

Taehyung liked to make those moments as dragged-out as possible. He got some sick kick out of it, you guessed, probably made him feel like a predator stalking its prey, playing with its food. He liked to leave you wondering what he would do to you, and you couldn’t say you were bothered by it either. 

At last, when you thought that your heart was about to jump out of your chest, he walked into the bedroom, his slender fingers loosening his silk tie. It was a stark contrast how dressed Taehyung still was — everything still in place, with only the zipper of his pants still opened. He looked absolutely composed, his dark eyes following the curves of your body as he gradually approached you. 

“Beautiful,” he complimented, sitting down next to you. The bed dipped under his weight, making your breasts bounce slightly. His gaze fell over them and he hummed, one hand tenderly squeezing the flesh. You gasped at the sensation, which ripped a small chuckle out of him. “And so sensitive.” 

You didn’t know if it was the best moment to speak up, so you didn’t. Instead, you waited as Taehyung’s hand gradually made its way up your chest, towards your neck and, finally, to your cheek. There, it stayed for a moment, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. He really enjoyed doing that, it seemed. “Open up for me,” he requested. And so you did, lips parting so two of his fingers could enter your mouth. Taehyung pressed down on your tongue, making you release a small whimper, before allowing you to suck on his fingers. “That’s it. What do we say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you struggled to speak against his fingers. 

“That’s right.” Taehyung removed his digits from your mouth, lowering them until they were pressed against your clit. You moaned and raised your hips under the random surge of pleasure, but his other hand soon met the skin of your inner thigh, making you stand still. “Shhh, shhh,” he shushed you, “don’t move now.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly slid between your folds. The pressure was light, barely teasing your sensitive entrance before going back up to play with your clit. 

“So fucking soaked for me, doll,” Taehyung groaned, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth opened a little, allowing a small sob to fall from it. “Such an eager little pussy.”

“S-Sir,” you gasped, fingers digging to the pristine white sheets of your bed. You had just changed them, and now they were bearing witness to your sinful acts. “I want you.”

Taehyung hummed, apparently distracted with the sensation of your slickness covering him. “You have me, darling.” 

“N-Not your fingers,” you said. “Want your cock, please.”

The moment he stopped his movements, you realized you had fucked up. Taehyung made a clicking sound with his tongue that shot straight through your chest, quickening your heartbeat. “You’re so spoiled.” He removed his hand from your heat and you didn’t even find the force within you to complain about it. Not when he was looking at you with such a mixture of disappointment and frustration. “You tell me you want to cum, and then that my fingers aren’t good enough for you?”

“Sorry, sir,” you rushed to say, a frail veil of tears shimmering in your eyes. You felt like you had been edged for hours, even if that wasn’t the case. The sexual tension was just too high, leaving you so worked up that it hurt. And there was also an extra level of desperation knowing that your release wasn't exactly your decision at that moment. “Please, I need it so bad.” 

Taehyung scrutinized your face for a moment, watching the quick beating of your eyelashes and the thin layer of sweat that covered your skin. He felt a familiar sense of power washing over him, watching intently for every sign of pleading eagerness that covered your features. You looked so beautiful, he thought, so meek and polite under him. You had been so good, after all, there was no need to postpone your pain any further. 

But he would. For just a tiny bit longer. 

Taehyung breathed out. “You’re lucky I’m feeling nice. Turn around.” He slapped the inside of your thigh, a smirk blossoming at the corners of his pink lips as he watched you yelp in surprise. Still, you obeyed him once again, turning until you were on your stomach. “Hands and knees. Ass up. And don’t look behind you.” 

After you had positioned yourself, Taehyung started undressing. You could only hear the shuffling of his clothes as he gradually removed them — taking his sweet time as his eyes lingered on your form. He could see that you were still so absolutely soaked for him, the glistening of your pussy making his cock throb inside his underwear. He would tease you a bit further if he, himself, had it in him to wait a bit longer. However, at that moment, there was nothing that Taehyung wanted more than to be buried deep inside your cunt. 

You bounced up and down on the bed as he kneeled on it, hands on your hips tugging you towards him. You whined when you felt the pressure of his hard cock between your ass cheeks, your pussy clenching around nothing. Still, you waited for him to make the first move, since your latest attempt at asking for more had earned you a scolding from his part. 

And, apparently, not only that. All air ran out of your lungs when you felt Taehyung’s hand collapsing against the skin of your ass once, twice, until you were crying out. “Sir, wait—“ 

“Quiet,” he reprimanded. “You’re always misbehaving. Can you take your punishment now? Or are you going to keep complaining?”

That was his way of asking for your consent to keep going, you realized, and you promptly gave it to him. “Y-Yes, sir.” 

Another slap against your ass was what you recieved, this time on the other side. Taehyung’s palm was heavy on your skin, and you relished in the pain it left behind; your hands holding onto the pillows for any sort of grounding. “Good. Maybe this will teach you not to be so fucking spoiled,” he growled, hitting you once more. Your body jumped forwards a bit, legs weak beneath you. “Stand still.”

You tried your best to do so, enduring a few more spanks until Taehyung had deemed it sufficient. If you had been wet before, now you were completely drenched, every nerve on your body standing alert to the smallest of touches. So much in fact that, when he leaned in to place a kiss against your shoulder, you cried out at the feeling of his cock moving between your ass cheeks.

“Pretty.” His hand caressed the sensitive skin where he had hit you before. You flinched under his touch, but liked the stinging pain that came along with it. “Gonna fuck you now, love.” 

You could’ve sobbed in relief. “Yes, yes, please, sir.” 

Taehyung leaned back slowly, one hand curling around the base of his cock so he could guide himself inside you. His crown slid between your folds once, twice, making you whimper as it accidentally hit your clit. The sounds of your wetness were shameful, filling the room as he pressed himself against your opening. You sighed and whimpered at the feeling, for a moment thinking that your thighs would give out beneath you. Instead, Taehyung held you up as his cock gradually plunged inside you, stretching you wide. 

There hadn’t been as much preparation as you’d like, but the small rush of pain was a welcomed one. You moaned out his name as his big cock continued to sink inside you, feeling every inch of it as it filled you up. Taehyung was fucking huge and, even after so long by his side, you had never truly grown used to it. 

You gasped when he entered you completely, his hands giving a last pull on your hips to make sure that he couldn’t go any deeper. “S-So much,” you stuttered. 

He scoffed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Now fucking take it.” Taehyung angled his hips back, sliding his cock out of your heat until only his tip was inside. He came slamming back in, sinking into your velvety walls like they were made for him to fuck. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, it’s just pulling me in. Dripping down my cock, fuck.” 

And you could only moan out at his filthy words, brain turning into a chaotic mess as he started drilling in and out of you. At that point, you had been so worked up that you could only focus on the amazing sensation of his cock fucking you open, so big and heavy inside you. 

From what you could hear, Taehyung wasn’t much different. His controlling attitude had started to wash away as his high started to approach; the room filled with the low grunts and moans that came from his throat. He was holding onto you so tightly that you thought he was going to break you in half, his thrusts deep, fast and precise. Really, it was shameful how close you already were, walls tightening around his length as your legs started to shake. 

“S-So good, sir, your cock feels so good,” you moaned out, lost in bliss. “I’m c-close.” 

“Cum all over my cock, baby,” Taehyung grunted. “Come on, be good for me.”

You nodded, clenching your jaw as you felt your pleasure rising at a thundering speed. Taehyung wasn’t planning on slowing down either, his cock hitting deep inside your pussy and making your eyes roll back. 

“Fuck, oh my—“ you cursed out, but could not finish your sentence. Your orgasm washed over you like an avalanche, whitening out your thoughts as your walls clenched around him; loud moans and whimpers of his name falling in a jumbled mess between your lips. “T-Tae…” 

The lack of his preferred title seemed to be lost on him, since Taehyung was also approaching his own climax. “So fucking wet. So tight and warm for me. Perfect little cunt,” he was talking to himself at this point, letting his thoughts flow out of his mouth with no apparent direction. “Wanna cum inside your pussy, doll. Fill you up so good.” 

You whined out at his words. You were still holding onto the pillows, trying to find any sort of foundation to fight against the sensitivity that was growing inside you. “P-Please, yes.” 

Taehyung growled at your words, pushing his body forward until he was squeezing you against the bed. The new angle made his cock hit different spots inside your cunt, a newfound wave of euphoria starting to buzz inside you. “Want that?” His voice was a rough moan against your ear, his breath kissing your skin in dense, hot clouds. “Gonna take my cum like a good slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, “I want it so bad.”

“Yeah? Wanna give you a baby, gonna look so fucking pretty for me.” Taehyung’s words hit you like a ton of bricks, making you clench around his cock. You had never realized that you wanted him to say that, especially in a context like that, but it made you melt instantly. And because he knew you so well, he rapidly noticed the way your body responded to it. “You like that?” 

You nodded. “Y-Yes.” 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he moaned, placing a sloppy kiss against your neck. You could feel Taehyung throbbing inside you, signaling that he was close. “So fucking perfect. I love you so much.” 

“L-Love you too,” you said back. 

Taehyung sighed at your words, a last moan reverberating in his chest before he was spilling himself inside of you. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned at the feeling, getting utterly lost in the way that your walls milked his cock clean, taking everything that he gave you. “Fuck, that’s it.” 

With a final, shuddering breath, Taehyung collapsed against you, placing a bunch of kisses on your shoulders. You giggled at the random softness of his actions, feeling as his cock slipped out of you. He rolled around until he was falling backwards on the bed, a final puff of air exploding upon his lips. 

“Well, damn.” Taehyung laughed. You could only do the same, pushing your body closer to his. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

You rested your head on his chest. “Because adult life fucking sucks, that’s why.” 

“Fair enough.” He sighed. One of his arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close, kissing the top of your head. A fond smile curled up on your lips. “Was I too rough?”

“Just a bit, but I liked it.” You angled your head up to look at him. Taehyung took his cue to kiss your lips instead. “Can you get something to clean me up?”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m feeling pretty lazy right now. Besides…” he trailed off, “Kinda like you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing nature of your tone gave your faux-annoyance away. “I figured,” you said. “Wanna talk about the baby situation?” 

Taehyung’s face swiftly grew serious. He apparently discovered a new source of energy, because, within a second, he was pushing you off and bolting out of bed. “Suddenly I need to find a towel.” 

And you could only laugh because, as it has been proven, you were kind of a mastermind when it came to making evil plans. If Taehyung needed another one to get him talking, you wouldn’t mind elaborating it. 

You wouldn’t mind at all. 

[cherryjuicegf]

death of a poet

for @whataboutthebard september 16 whump prompt: major character death || geraskier, T, 1.8k, angst, implied/referenced suicide (kind of)

ao3

The greatest act of love, they say, is to die for it.

Jaskier laughed, always laughed at this concept. There’s no doubt, of course, one’s whole life lost as a declaration of love, the highest sacrifice. But not the only one. And it amazed him, how people never seemed to acknowledge anything else, how fairytales of noble knights ended with them throwing their lives away, and for what? For love. Always for love. There was no doubt, and if there was, who was he to utter it?

Still. He wondered, the roots of the poet he was meant to be growing inside him, blooming since childhood. And he wondered, why, why die for love, why not live for it? Why waste this blooming of hearts in the eternal darkness, in grief and the wailing complaint of what could have been? Why, when there is so much beauty in the love of living things? He wondered, always wondered. And his mother smiled, with this faint bitterness of unexpected knowledge, and whispered, you can live for love if you want, sweet child, but one day you’ll understand.

Yet he didn’t understand. And he hated it, hated that he didn’t. Hated that he couldn’t find anything to try and understand in the first place. One day he would understand, yet people smiled at him, flowers bloomed in spring, birds sang on the branches, the wine tasted so sweet and the strings of the lute sounded so magical in the evening hush. And he wondered, always wondered, when would the day come, and what greater love there is, that you’re willing to die for it, even if you don’t lay eyes upon it ever again?

The fire in the hearth suddenly goes out.

A tragic fate, the mage had laughed. True love’s kiss. No one could ever love a monster.

I love him. He’s not a monster.

He’s not?

Geralt’s eyes are glowing in a light Jaskier hasn’t seen before, in a light he never wishes to see again. They’re glowing, and something unworldly glows with them, laughs with the evil memory of fairy tales, and evil sorceresses and true love’s kisses. As the blade glistens dangerously close to his eyes, as he walks backward in trembling steps, he thinks they’re so far away from what would make a beautiful fairytale to tell children before sleep. There will be no happy ending here. Somehow he knows.

There’s a tickle on his fingertips, burning.

The sword whips beside his ear and he stumbles back once more, panting, breath coming out strained. He raises his head, looks at Geralt. Or what he remembers was Geralt. Because now what he sees seems foreign, cold, and the amber in his eyes doesn’t warm him like the sun anymore, instead burns, like a fire which he willingly, inevitably steps into. There’s a lump caught in his throat, a sob screaming to get out. And, as though on instinct, with the strongest pang of guilt numbing his bones, he has to remind himself. He’s not a monster, he’s not a monster. He’s not Geralt. Geralt is not a monster.

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, he meets Geralt’s, no, the man’s eyes and, like the fool, like the poet he is, he hopes. “Geralt,” he says and his voice shakes weakly with the terrifying hint of denial, “Geralt, it’s me, please.” The air is ripped by the blade once again, he steps back, eyes still locked with amber. A whimper. “Come back to me, love, please. I love you, come back.”

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, the sun entering from the narrow, stained window reflects on Geralt’s eyes and something familiar glints behind them, a distant scream of a heart wailing to get out. But it’s only for a moment. Because Geralt growls and lowers his sword again with maniacal force and Jaskier screams, ducks and falls on his knees in an ironic parody of a plea for mercy. There’s a feeling of wetness on his bicep and he hisses as crimson blood stains the white sleeve. Not his fault, Jaskier reminds himself, not his fault.

It’s not his fault, yet he wants to cry as he stares into his eyes, cold like the blade that threatens to tear him to pieces, cold like the countless winter nights he’s spent without him, cold like his hand as he grasps it desperately, pushes him back in a failed attempt to trap him, in a foolish, hopeless hope of making him throw the sword away.

A true love’s kiss, he thinks, and almost laughs, because it sounds more like a death wish. And he’s starting to think it will be.

And then he sees Geralt raising his hand and before he has time to think about it, he’s being swept back with the most violent wind, and falls head first on the wall behind him. And slumps to fall on his knees. But there’s a sudden sting on his abdomen and he opens his eyes just in time to see the silver blade pointed on tender skin and jolts back with a gasp, stuck on the wall. “Fuck, Geralt,” he pants and looks at him and, for some reason, he expects his stare to be requited. It is. But it’s empty. It’s empty, and the sword on his stomach tickles painfully and the room is whirling. He blinks hard, gasps again. He can’t hold on, he knows.

And as he gazes at Geralt, he remembers. Warmth. Faint smiles, fingers down his back. Lips tasting of sweet wine, and flowers on his hair, and sleepy eyes staring at him before dropping, and love, and safety, and home . And finally, finally he understands.

He hates that he understands. But then again, the blade is cold like a hug full of regrets and Geralt’s eyes are empty and, oh, what he wouldn’t give to see those eyes, familiar and warm and looking at him again, even if it’s for the last time. He hasn’t much left to give, truth be told. Only his hope, and his life, and he feels them both competing for which is going to reach the end of the line.

“Geralt,” he whispers, again, and that spare root of hope he had starts to rot. “Geralt, please, don’t...” Are those tears? His eyes are burning. “Wake up, love, it’s me.”

What hope? He knows there is not. He knows, because it’s empty, forever empty, and the blade stings deeper and he pleads, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as if it means anything anymore, as if it’s Geralt.

He understands. And knows, if he’s to die, he has to die the way he lived, by love, as a poet. For love, then. As a poet, and for love.

So he straightens himself, eyes steady on Geralt. And takes a step forward against the blade.

It’s numbing, the pain. Another step. He gasps, chokes on his own blood. Another step, and Geralt stares, empty, blade steady in place as though on purpose, but there’s a familiar glint somewhere in there now, a familiar fear. Jaskier is close. His feet are giving in, his breath is shortening, and it’s a pity really, such a torturous death.. He’s close. So close that he can rest on Geralt’s shoulder, and he feels the blade ripping his flesh, his insides, his everything. He coughs up blood, chokes, eyes rolling to the back of his head. And he feels the blade dripping behind him. And he feels Geralt’s breath on his skin. So he cups his face in a shaking hand, and leans in.

It’s nothing. A brush of lips, tender in all its agony. It’s nothing. The world is blurring. It’s love.

It’s nothing.

The sword slips away as he falls, leaving behind nothing but a puddle of unending blood and slowly consuming darkness and he thinks, it’s supposed to be bright, it’s supposed to hurt less now.

He thinks, he’s supposed to spare himself from Geralt’s anguished look when he comes to, and realizes.

Instead.

“Jaskier!”

He doesn’t feel the pain. Only his body, lifted from the floor, and the scorching blood and the arms, those arms that hold him so tight he wants to scream all the apologies, all the regrets of the world. He doesn’t need to. They all echo in Geralt’s eyes.

It’s sweet, the pain. It’s melodic, the plea. Jaskier, please, stay with me, you fool, you’re alright, stay with me.

He wants to laugh. He’s long gone.

The greatest act, to die for love. A fitting ending, for a poet. He wishes someone will write it, this story, their story, and maybe give it a happier ending. Maybe they will go to the coast. Maybe they’ll end up closing their eyes together, holding each other tight, and maybe there’s no blood, only bitter tears of happiness.

It’s a fairytale. It can’t be tragic.

I love you, you’ll be alright, please, please don’t leave me alone.

A forehead pressed against his and he stares at Geralt and, oh, how he misses him already, and how bright he looks in his sorrow, how beautiful behind the veil that slowly falls between them. Jaskier parts his lips, chokes. “Geralt,” he croaks and it sounds like a sob uttered by every single wilting flower in the world. “Geralt, look at me.” He raises a trembling hand on his face, his fingertips leaving smudges of blood over the falling tears.

Geralt doesn’t look. Only stares at the wound, and back at Jaskier, unfocused, horrified, numb, as though it won’t happen if he doesn’t acknowledge.

It’s darker now, and there’s a last grip holding him back, and Jaskier knows it’s the warmth of Geralt’s hug, always is. “If I die for you, will you live for me, love?” he whispers and finally, finally Geralt turns at him, eyes wide, and Jaskier smiles, something close to a wince, as though it’ll hurt less like that, letting go.

Geralt shakes his head. “If I refuse will you stay alive?”

A huff. Painful. “No. No, I don’t think so.” It’s silent like the breeze now, his voice. Jaskier wipes the rivers of tears on Geralt’s cheek and smiles again, and this time it’s genuine, probably because it’s the last one. “It’s alright, hush. You’re not alone.” Shaking, he removes silver strands away from Geralt’s eyes, and slumps, leans on his shoulder as though finally resting. “Hush now, my love. Let me look into your eyes one last time.”

He does. He looks. It’s the same eyes, same as always, warm and loving, like a tender caress.

To die for love. How tragic. But what is a poet’s love, if not the most heart-wrenching tragedy?

The bloodied hand gently falls on the floor.

There’s a streak of red light coming through the stained window, and rests on blue eyes, mistaking them for the peaceful sea after a storm in their stillness.

They stare, forever open, and somehow forever warm.

They stare, and Geralt finally stares back. And slowly, agonizingly, like a sob echoing in eternity between the pages of every promised fairytale, he screams.

[mystic-shadows42]

Holding Out Hope

A/N: This was just a simple quick write so there are probably mistakes.

Pairing: Clark Kent x reader

Warnings: Language

Summary: Clark has a hard time trying to find his place in the world but when he takes a job he’s unlikely to stay in for long, there’s an unexpected person there that he can’t simply walk away from.

Joe.

That’s what he said his name was. When you first met him, you didn’t think it suited him. He was a tall dark-haired, muscular, blue-eyed man with a gentleness to him.

Right away he stood out.

Joe was brought onto the crew by your father, the captain. He was quiet but observant. He always listened and remembered things that other people would long forget about.

He wasn’t the type of man you’re used to seeing on your father’s crew. He was actually nice and not handsy like the others.

You met him on his first day and told him of the small shop you worked at and he made it a habit to go whenever he was back from his fishing trips.

During his visits, you’d both make small talk. He was private about his life but was definitely curious about yours. You wanted to respect his privacy so you told him the truth of yours.

You were the youngest child of four. All of them had left to start their own lives elsewhere but would call occasionally. The home life wasn’t too great. Your mother had left and your father was a drunk. He would only stop drinking when he had to work and needed more money for it.

There were times when you’d ramble on and sneak a look over at him to see he was hanging on to every word. 

Occasionally, you’d treat him to lunch but even then you could tell he was still putting up a front as if he couldn’t simply relax. Sometimes he’d even leave abruptly after apologizing profusely.

It was understandable but after what seemed like the umpteenth time you started to think it was because of you. Perhaps you weren’t as good company as you thought.

Joe must’ve noticed your uncertainty because he would sometimes surprise you with gifts. Needless to say, it didn’t take much for you to fall hard for him. 

There were obvious signs there for something to flourish between you both but he was always the one to pull away.

So when you were on your break outside the shop with him you asked him what you’ve been dying to know.

“So, I have to ask. Why have you stuck around doing this job? Most people leave after the first week.”

He looked away and smiled then looked back at you. At his expression, you nudged his arm playfully.

“I find that staying here a little while has its benefits.”

You gave him a look which he knew what you meant. He didn’t give you much to go off of.

“My dad doesn’t pay you enough to think like that.”

“It’s not always about the pay.” He threw you a look that simply melted your heart. “Would you believe me if I told you the best part of my day is coming into the shop and seeing you?”

You slightly tilted your head not expecting the deemed quiet man by the crew to actually say this to you. Joe was far too handsome to be into you. Just by looking at him, you knew he didn’t belong in a less than ideal place with nothing to offer him whatsoever.

“Well, I don’t actually believe you.”

He had a faint smile on his face. “Open your hand.”

You held out your hand and he took something out of his back pocket and placed it in your hand.

“A gift?”

He nodded and gestured for you to look at it. You opened the small bag pulling the strings apart to see pearls inside.

They were beautiful and bigger than any you’ve ever seen. You inspected them more closely.

“These are South Sea pearls. I only know because my father obsesses over finding some one day.” You looked up at him astonished. These pearls were worth a good amount of money. “There’s no possible way you found these fishing.”

He put his hands over yours covering the pearls.

“I’m going to be leaving soon. Use these to get out of here.”

Your heart sunk at the news of him leaving soon. He was the whole reason you got excited for the day and dressed up. 

Just seeing him affected your whole day in a better way.

“I can’t. This is too big a gift to have.”

“They’re yours now.”

He said it so calmly as if obtaining them wasn’t a big deal. Even though you knew people would kill just to get their hands on them.

“How’d you get them?” 

“I flew,” he said, a small smile gracing his face before he turned his back to you.

“Joe.”

Even as you said his name he didn’t react. He hardly ever responded to it. You always suspected he was hiding something. Nobody simply ignores their name when called.

“Wait!”

He turned and you ran to catch up to him.

“At least tell me your real name.”

He sighed and you knew then that he wouldn’t. It did hurt a little that after all these months of knowing him that he didn’t even trust you enough to know his name.

It made you sad that nothing significant ever blossomed between you both though you knew he could feel the connection too. You didn’t think it’d hurt this much to lose a person you hardly knew anything about.

He lowered his head when you started to drop yours in disappointment. He looked genuinely concerned. It was hard to determine if he would even miss you or even thought of you the way you did him.

“I promise you that one day when I’m not running anymore. When I find out who I truly am, then I’ll find you and tell you my name.”

You shook your head. “That’s impossible. How will you ever find me?”

“Don’t lose hope.”

He moved closer to you and leaned down a little to be leveled with you. Your lips parted and your heart started to race at how close he was. He had his eyes closed already so you closed yours as you moved forward.

You were finally going to kiss.

“Hey, dipshit! It’s time to go!”

You groaned and opened your eyes to see he already opened his and was watching you.

“I have to go.”

You reached out for his hand and saw him smile down at your joined hands. He gave yours a small squeeze in reassurance.

“Captains tired of waiting! Hurry it up!”

His hand slowly slipped from yours. He smiled sadly and turned his back to you as he began walking away.

****

In your time of finding a place, you were tracked down by a determined reporter named Lois Lane. Her presence took you by surprise especially when she shared her story with you.

He was going by the name Liam. She told you briefly of her findings and how he saved her life with his ‘abilities’ yet somehow you began to think over your encounters with him.

The constant short meet-ups with him weren’t excuses. He was actually going out and saving someone’s life.

It just all seemed fitting for him. 

A savior.

Lois had questioned you explaining that his time fishing was the longest job he stuck with and she suspected it was because of you. She kept smiling at the stories you’d share of her with your encounters with him. 

There wasn’t much to go off because he was so discreet but it was the way he made you feel that made it seem everlasting. That much she could tell in your eyes and words alone.

Before she departed her last words to you were that he’d definitely find you again.

The idea lifted your spirits but you certainly missed his company.

After about a month and a couple of weeks you still hadn’t found a place to settle in. Nothing ever seemed like home to you.

You felt like a ghost going from place to place. Seeing a new area was nice but there was still that never-ending feeling of being alone.

The thing you missed from your old town was the view of the ocean. So that’s what led you here, to the beach.

You were walking aimlessly on the shoreline when you looked up after a huge sudden gust of wind hit you.

You gasped at the sight of ‘him’ standing just a few feet in front of you. He was smiling once he saw your reaction. He looked the same, only he was clean-shaven and he seemed more relaxed.

He began making his way to you still having his bright smile on his face. You immediately dropped your sandals and ran into his arms. He hugged you to him feeling his deep chuckle rumble through his chest.

“I told you I’d find you.”

You pulled back but still stayed in his arms.

“Now I know how you got here. You flew,” you chuckled remembering his words from before. He brushed the hair in your face back and smiled. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“So are you going to tell me what your name is or do I have to keep calling you Joe?”

“My name’s Clark. Clark Kent. As you may have heard, I’m not of this world but raised into it.”

“I’ve heard some stories.” 

You didn’t quite know what he was or how he came to have these abilities but all you knew was that you cared for him deeply. Nothing else mattered.

“How are you liking your new life?”

“I felt like how you used to. Not really belonging anywhere. Going from place to place. Missing you and our annual strolls.”

He rubbed your arms once you started to get goosebumps. His touch felt safe and warm. Something you could get used to. Everything about him captivated you in every way.

“Close your eyes.”

You took a deep breath and closed them. 

After a couple of seconds, he told you to open them. All you did was stare at him admiring just how handsome he truly is. He chuckled seeing your entranced state and told you to look down.

Confused, you looked down and saw that neither of you were on land anymore. You were both floating and had a vast view of the landscape.

Naturally, you gasped wrapping your arms around him thinking you were going to fall. You could hear him laughing but the thought of being so high up had overtaken your thoughts.

To capture your attention, he turned your face to him and looked down at your lips as if silently asking for your permission. You nodded and that was all he needed to kiss you. 

His lips were soft but the force was rough. You both had been desperate for this moment. It had been put off for far too long.

“I’ll never let you go. Never fall, never get hurt, and never leave you all alone again.”

His words were tender and sweet.

“Would you like to come to Kansas with me?”

This time you were the one with the permanent smile on your face chuckling. You had unshed tears in your eyes at how happy you were.

“I’d love to go to Kansas with you, Clark.”

[plush-rabbit]

Thorn In Your Mouth

Request: I'm not quite sure if requests are open, but if they are, may I please request some nsfw noncon with Lucifer or Satan from obey me with a fem! MC?

They're demons, and they love quite differently from humans. One could say their love is overly suffocating and affectionate…

Warning: Noncon

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: i think i made him more jealous in this so,,, hope you like it??

-

It was sweet at first to have Satan fret over you, to care for you in such a way that made you feel safe, but you soon learned that you craved your space, that you missed whenever you could just go out without having to worry about him getting angry at you. He might have directed his wrath towards you at first, but it was never in this way, never in such a jealousy, overwhelming way that you made you grit your teeth and glare at his back. A part of you knows that this is what you signed up for- he’s a demon, one born out of wrath no less, but you didn’t want that to cloud you. You wanted to see the good in him. But even so, he’s still a demon- a possessive one that fears losing you more than anything.

“Where were you?” He asks, his voice steady and eyes piercing into yours. “I tried calling you but-” he tilts his head and an uncomfortable grin pulls at his lips- “you didn’t answer.”

You’re tired of it all. You’re exhausted and just want to borrow a book that could help you sleep. You’re the one to break eye contact with him fist, turning around and rubbing your hand over your neck. “I don’t know Satan, I was just out with friends.” You grab at a book, the title written in thin letters and eager to be done with the conversation, you accept it. “It’s no biggie.” It shouldn’t be and it isn’t. And yet, anxiety still plagues your body.

The exit is near, the doors closed and the light in the hallway, a dim glow signaling that it is indeed time for bed. You make your way, only to be halted by Satan’s hand wrapping around your wrist. “It is a ‘biggie’-” he quotes, annoyance a sliver on his tongue- “when you don’t tell me where or who you’re going out with.” His grip tightens on you and your hand grows stiff, a twinge of fear pooling against your stomach. “What if you were hurt? What then?” You narrow your eyes at him and feebly try to pull away your arm from him. He doesn’t relent. “Where were you?”

Finding it much easier to just tell the truth and get it over with, you sigh. “I was out with friends, Satan. Some imps and incubi from the seventh period. You know them,” you add, hoping that it’ll jog his memory and remind him that it’s mutual friends that he’s so worried about. “We went to the mall and got some ice cream there.”

“Multiple people you went out with then, huh.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing back to where your wrist is held in his hand. “And if I am their friend- as you say- then why wasn’t I invited?”

You shrug, giving him a puzzled stare. “I don’t know. You weren’t in class. You had some lunch to go to with those friends of yours. We’ll invite you next time.” You yank at your wrist, only to be met with a tighter hold. “Satan. Let go.”

“Do you love me?” He asks, the tension in the room is lost on him and you look at him with an incredulous look, surprised that he would even ask you that at a time like this. “Because I love you. I’m a good partner. I listen and I kiss you and yet, you go around with a group of demons and do who-knows-what while I sit at home waiting for you to come back.”

The meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. Your arm is stretched, extended out as he still holds a grip on you but you need the distance as slight as it may be. “Are you implying that I cheated on you?” He doesn’t respond and stays with his eyes locked on yours. “Satan, I went out with friends. That’s it! Nothing more and nothing less. What the actual fuck.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, the book now discarded on the table beside you. “You know what? Just let go. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your eyes catch at the underside of the door where the light remains steady, the yellow glow teasing at you where freedom lies. “Satan, you’re hurting me.” You hope that that is enough to make him realize what he’s doing.

You’re pushed over the edge of the table, your stomach painfully pressing against the edge of the wood. Your hands flail for a moment, patting and scratching against the table, your legs tense as you call his name, anger evident in your voice. “What the fuck is your problem?” You hiss out, your palms against the table only to be pulled away and grabbed in his hands. “Satan,” you call his name, worry and fear intertwining together. He remains silent, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor as he presses himself close to you, his groin pressed against your rear. “Satan, what the fuck are you doing?”

There's a crackle of energy that fills your ear, a popping sound akin to Black Cats, the smell of mahogany and citrus in the air as his hands tighten around you. Skin slips away, a harsh press against the back of your head as you’re pushed into the warming wood, and you’re frozen in fead. The room, while devoid of talk, is filled with noise- the buzzing of the electricity, the cracking of his tail and the deep breaths that he takes, the high sound of his zipper becoming undone and the clicking of his shoes. The noise is driving you insane, blood in your ears as you gasp out his name, trying to turn your head, but only being able to face the wall, and you catch a g,impe of yourself in a mirror, faced down with a demon towering behind you.

“You know that I love you, right?” Something sharp replaces where his hands used to be, thorns piercing into your tender skin as you feel his hands hook on the waistband of your jeans. Your breath stops, and something heavy pools on your tongue. “I do everything right by you and yet-” his nails scratch against your skin- “you treat me like trash. You treat me as if I don’t matter.” Cold air meets your warm skin and you’re left in your underwear and shirt, your sex covered by thin fabric. “Do I not matter to you?” He says your name and it isn’t something sweet, it isn’t something that makes you feel warm. It’s something that sounds too foul to be said out loud. He’s ruined your name in just one simple sentence.

“You matter Satan,” you whisper, clenching your sex. Your eyes are unmoving, watching your distant reflection that has a monster behind you, their hands on your underwear and tearing it from your body. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “Satan, sweetheart, please. Let’s talk, okay? Please.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” The tip of his cock is pressed against your thigh, something cool leaking down your leg in a slimy trail. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Were you keeping it a secret from me?” You shake your head, rubbing along the wood and his hand returns to your head, yanking at your hair and pulling on the strands until you rise and are brought on your knees before him. “No? Really? You’re going to lie to me?”

His erection is close to you, close enough to feel the heat, to see how the tip leaks with his pearling semen. “I’m not-”

“If you’re going to lie, then I'd rather just put your mouth to better use.” He grabs your face, dark green scales that run along his body and trail at his thighs. Your nose is pushed against the underside of his cock, his ridges pressing into you and semen already leaking onto your hairline. His scent is strong, suffocating as he pulls you back, your mouth opening when he twists at your hair, a sharp scream that is soon muffled by his cock entering your mouth. “Make sure you get it wet enough. It’s my cock that I’m going to stick in your little holes.”

Wasting no time, you’re pushed to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He holds you there, letting his cockhead drip down your throat with his heavy semen. Your tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his ridges, the pointed end of his cock ticking at the back of your throat as he starts to move.

It’s a slow choking motion, his cock filling your mouth only to empty it in a way that makes you feel dumb enough to breathe. Every breath is stuck, lodged in the back of your throat and leaving you a choking mess against his cock. He wastes no time, holding the sides of your head and pushing himself inside of you, using your mouth as his own toy.

Each thrust of his cock has your stomach rising, acid billowing in the base of your throat, his scent and cologne mixing together to overstimulate yourself. Your name is whispered, a soft prayer under his tongue as he deflies your mouth, semen spilling and filling your mouth, tears that sting against your eyes and drip past your chin. It’s harsh, and unforgiving and in your head you curse him and plead to whatever God there is, that he’ll let you live and walk away, that this is some horrific nightmare to make you into a follower. You choke and cy, your throat constricting and face becoming hot, shame and horror flooding throughout your body and you’re left sobbing against his cock.

His hands are rough, nothing like you know them to be, his words soft as ever and yet, you’re still pushed down to the table with your jaw slack and drool dripping down your chin and tears mixing with the heavy liquid. Your mouth is stained with his semen, white bubbling out past your lips as you meet your reflection once more. Your legs are spread and you can only think of saying his name, to have your hands paw pitifully at the table as you call him through a broken mantra.

You’re glad that you listened to him, that you did get his cock wet enough to slip in you without fuss. It’s a slight pinch, sharp and twisting inside of you as your thrusted into, your chest pressed against the wooden table. Everything is on high alert, all your senses overloaded as your sex is filled, ridges tickling inside your walls. Each thrust clicks, a wet snap as he pushes himself inside of you, his tail wrapping around your throat and yanking you upwards, a string of drool snaps against your chin as it’s ripped from the desk. The tip of his tail is thick, filling your mouth as it rests on your tongue, the edges poking against the inside of your cheeks. You’re lifted, your legs bent and resting on the table as he pushes inside of you, your cunt fluttering against him as his base thickens, warm seed coating your walls.

He pulls out of you, and you whisper a soft thank you, your head turning, the red wood clouding your vision. You ignore the feeling of his hand that crawls over your rear, that tickles against your curve and pushes against your taint.

“No, no,” you moan, your body weak and in pain to stop him from continuing. Not like this Satan, please.” But he’s too overwhelmed to listen to you, pressing the slender tip of his cock against the rim of your hole and pushing inside of you.

You squeal and it’s enough for him to push himself inside of you, each curve and ridge filling and marking the inside of you. Your body spasms, your cunt warm and dripping with his semen. His tail pushes deeper inside of you, choking you and letting you taste your spit and his seed that still lingers.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “Please,” he begs, holding your body as he enters you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain twisting together leaving you tense and biting on his tail, your tongue pressed firmly against a ridge.

“It hurts,” you mewl, your hands cupping over your breasts to stop the shameful movement. “‘M sorry,” you mumble, your tongue swishing over his tail. With you being stretched, you can feel him in certain areas that makes your body tense and flex. Despite the uncaring nature, you still react to him, shaking and tightening yourself around him, calling his name as you drool over his tail and onto your shirt.

“I love you,” Satan mutters, “I love you,” he repeats, holding you close to him, feeling his heart pump against your back, feeling it rattle against you. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and words sweet enough to make tears spring to your eyes. He thrusts inside of you, his arms hooking under your knees and horns grazing and picking up strands of your hair as he presses harsh kisses against his bite mark.

You can feel his seed, hot and heavy, flooding inside of your walls and drenching past your heated core, staining the floor beneath you and splattering onto the table legs. With a quick glance, your eyes are strained and your thin arousal mixes in with his semen, coating at his cock and leaving your cunt in syrupy strands. Your legs are lowered, too strained and weak, your latch onto the desk, your bottom lip trembling as you try to remain steady.

Cotton fills your mind, a drug that is welcomed as the ache in your lower regions start to sharpen and dull. Colors mix and the slightest movement has you closing your mouth tightly, your hands already grasping around his neck and clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t drop me,” you plead in a delicate voice, turning to press your nose against his chest.

His hum is deep in his chest, rumbling softly like a distant storm that lulls you to sleep. His hands are soft, rubbing over the parts where he hits, and shushing you when you let out a high-pitched whine. His lips press against your forehead and his hands are soft. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, humming as he nuzzles his face close to yours. “Are you tired?” You nod. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?”

[graqefruito]

Bumps and Bandages- Quackity

pairing: Quackity x gn!clumsy!reader

type: fluff

cw: falling, pain, bandages

A clatter thundered throughout the room, the floorboards vibrating gently with your fall. Soon after a small giggle resounded and your arms flopped beside you as your body relaxed, for the second time that day, into the floor. Letting your head tip back and your bruised legs soften against the mahogany wood, a sigh of slight pain escaped your lips. Your ankle had rolled underneath your leg like a pinball trundling around the little game. The skin of your ankle was crimson and puffed out like a proud chest. It was sure to swell even further you thought as another groan passed your lips.

Taking your attention away, you heard a patter of feet scampering down the hall. A jittery knock osciillated through your door and the quiet mumbles of your worried boyfriend sounded behind the plank of wood.

“Amor, you okay?” Hs voice lilted into your ears.

Your mind cringed at the thought of him having to race away from his own stream just to check on you. The caring tone weaved into his words sent a flutter of embarrassment to float through your body.

“Uh yeah of course, just tripped again, nothing serious, you can go back to your stream!” The discomposure and shame was clear in your voice.

“Okay, if you’re sure, I just need to do something not definitely not stream related, love”

“Yeah yeah please, have fun” you couldn’t help but smile slightly at his sweet words.

Again, you heard the pitter of his feet slapping against the wooden flooring as he ran through the house to his streaming office. Humiliation at your own clumsiness rippled through you and emanated in the atmosphere all around. Your fall replayed in your mind for minutes as your laid there uncomfortable on the floor, a numbing pain exploding in your ankle. Again, your eyes graced the joint. The only word quipping through your mind was ‘Oh’, the bruise was forming and it was much bigger than ever before. An amethyst tint was beginning to spread tenderly across your lower ankle. If it weren’t for the circumstances, the colour would have been pretty, though the lavender was all too familiar from all your clumsy trips, stumbles, tumbles, knocks and falls. Sometimes it felt as if the world was out to get you, all the sharp corners you had ran into had moved slightly to haunt your journey past them or your that your own shadow occasionally became real and stuck its foot out for you to trip absent-mindedly over it. The previous scarlett and violet had swirled to make a monotone magenta painted on your ankle.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Quackity yelling content farewells to his stream. His words being slightly fuzzy, your ears strained to listen and make out whether or not he was actually ending. Once more the guilt-ridden sensation swelled in your stomach, he was saying goodbye to his chat and you were the reason. If only the sound of your trip hadn’t resonated through the walls.

Soon enough the low taps of his feet flew back into your ears and you knew he was making his way back to you. You were currently still lying on the floor as you had been for around 10 minutes. With a miniature creek, the door swung open and your boyfriend stood, looking slightly taller in the weirdly small door frame. A tender smile curved into your lips, Quackity returning it to you. Without any words being said he took a few steps towards your body and held his hand ready to aid in pulling you up.

With a stable hand fixed to the delicate floor, you swivelled your tired legs around, bringing your ankles up and directing your weight onto them. Nearly tripping over yourself once more, Quackity quickly stepped forward, steadying your body with a teasing grin on his face. Standing up was a struggle, but you managed it with a slight wobble in the knees and his protective arm shielding you from your subsequent fall. You both walked softly over to the bed, and when there you let your body collapse against the warm blankets. Sure, you were being slightly over-dramatic, but Quackity didn’t seem to mind so neither did you.

For the first time, he looked at your injury, gasps left his mouth along with small mumbles of it being your worst fall yet. Not sure of what to do, you watched silently as he ran to get the first aid kit from the bathroom. When he had returned, he clumsily dropped the green box on the floor and watched as the contents all tumbled out onto the floor. Forgetting about the rest, Quackity just reached for the bandages and began to ‘expertly’, as he said, wrap the fabric around your swollen ankle, making small comments about how your ankle was buffer than him now.

For just a moment, he looked in your eyes and the small smile teasing his lips, you realised how much he really cared. Joy flushed through you as you grinned widely at Quackity. He had finished securing the bandage and was now tossing all the other supplies eloquently into the first aid tub. The smile hadn’t yet left your face as you held your arms out to him, quietly asking for a hug.

“Well I think I deserve it”

“Eh I guess you could pay me for literally saving your life through your cuddles. You could have died y/n” the teasing tone was back in his voice.

He laid down next to your letting you shuffle around and relax against him, before he began to pull you close. He welded you into a state of felicity and halcyon with his dulcet whispers. Soon the lassitude enveloped you and serene huffs left your lips.