#it’s the softness of it all that kills me

[3igbootyl0ver]

A New Face

pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

summary: where the group of friends meet Chad's new roommate.

word count: 1737

pt.2

a/n: heyyyyy this is my first ever fic I've written, don't mind it being cringy and I'm open to feedback teehee hope ya'll enjoy (p.s I'm new to this whole Tumblr thing cut me some slack 😭)

Chad has been trying to convince the core four to hangout at his apartment. He had been feeling lonely recently since Mindy and Anika had recently moved in together. 

It took him a few weeks to finally convince them into hanging out at his apartment. With Sam’s paranoia and busy work schedule, and the heavy workload for Tara,Mindy, and Anika in college, they were finally able to make the time and hangout. Plus, they could use a new scenery besides the Carpenter’s apartment, right?

That particular day they were supposed to meet up at Chad’s apartment, Tara was feeling under the weather, her finals for her college exam was killing her; And all she wanted to do was eat some greasy dough with sauce and meat while watching scary movies. 

“Hey guys! Come in, the pizza is getting delivered soon.” Chad exclaimed while hopping on his toes, feeling ecstatic since he hadn’t met them for a while. 

“What’s with you? you’re acting like a kid, dude.” Mindy commented, noticing her twin brothers’ gleamed faced and excitement. 

“Sorry, I’ve been lonely and I’m just glad we’re all together again. THE CORE FOUR! And Anika, of course.” 

“Didn’t you put up an online ad for a roommate? Where are they?”

“You don’t learn, do you?” Sam added, frowning with Chad’s method of calling in someone to fill in the extra room. 

Chad abashedly chuckled, and lowered his head, his cheeks burning up from embarrassment. It was Sam, who wouldn’t be scared?

“My roommate is cool! They’re out for work and should be here soon. They’re not a psychotic serial killer, I promise.”

Sam was skeptical, rightfully so. Meanwhile, Tara was sat on the couch, with her legs on the coffee table while scrolling through the tv to find a movie to watch. She couldn’t bother joining in on the conversation. She felt mentally exhausted from her exams and just wanted a day’s rest. 

After a while, the group was playing card games while eating their pizzas and watching movies. 

“That’s not fair Mindy! Stop giving me all the +4 cards!” Tara shrieked, feeling frustrated after getting the card that made her double the number of cards she had at least 4 times, making her chances of winning low.

“Whatever you big baby. Just admit that you suck in uno,” Mindy responded, smirking triumphantly while raising her voice

Tara rolled her eyes, not accepting her defeat and continued arguing with Mindy, with the rest watching amused by the entertainment. Unsurprisingly , Tara lost after Mindy getting rid of her cards before her. She couldn’t get rid of her cards with the suspicious amounts of +4 cards Mindy had. 

“Uno! Looks like I win, LOSER!”

“How about I shove this uno cards up your a-“

Tara’s reply was interrupted by the front door opening, revealing you carrying your backpack on your shoulders and your motorcycle helmet hanging off your hand (which peaked Tara’s interest, of course.) You looked tired, with dark circles under your eye, wearing your hoodie and sweatpants. 

Even so, Tara still thought you were the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. She was practically having heart eyes and drooling at this point, with Mindy noticing her stare and grinning cheekily. 

“What’s up dude. Tough day at work?” Chad commented, trying to create a conversation. 

“You know it, man” you softly chuckled while locking the door. 

“Anyways, my friends are gonna be here for a while. I hope you don’t mind,”

“Not at all, I’m probably just going to take a nap anyways,” you replied, finally looking at the group of people staring you. 

Mindy gave you a nod, already knowing who you were from her brother. Anika smiled and waved at you, which you responded by giving a soft smile back. Sam was staring you down, which made you uncomfortable and creeped out but ignored her action. Tara was well, staring at you? But not how Sam stared at you, she had a blank look on her face. 

Once you left and went into the hallway to your room, Mindy decided make a certain Carpenter’s life a living hell. 

“Tara, are you blushing right now? I didn’t know you had a type” she teased

“Shut up, Mindy. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys don’t find her suspicious? Seriously?” Sam commented, wondering why they weren’t skeptical like they usually were when there was new people around. 

It wasn’t new, after the incident of Ghostface, they all had their guards up, scared to open up to new people, to new faces. 

“They’re nice, I promise. How about I call them out so you guys can get to know them? They’re Y/N, by the way” Chad suggested, trying to convince them (especially Sam) to get to know you better before jumping into conclusions that you were a serial killer. 

All of them collectively agreed, with Tara nodding with a slight tint on her cheeks. Chad went up to your room and called you out, suggesting that you should hang out with them. Tara assumed it went well, as Chad grinned toothily and walked away. 

You’ve really peaked her interest. She didn’t know she had a type. The people she had dated before didn’t really cast a spark on her.  She didn’t feel happy or enjoyed her time during those relationships. It felt like she was the problem, however the thought was down the drain after going to a few therapy sessions with Sam after the Ghostface incident. Through the sessions, Tara found out that she didn’t feel happy through the lack of trust and being paranoid that her partner would be a killer. That’s understandable, it’s not everyday that your (ex) girlfriend tries to murder you. 

However after seeing you for 10 seconds, her mind was clouded by you. She noticed that you were as tall as Chad and probably plays sports too, based on your physique. All she thought of was finding out more about you.  Do you study in Blackmore? What bike do you own? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Did you find her cute?

‘Come on, Tara. Get it together.’ She reminded herself  after that embarrassing thought. 

When she saw you come out with the same sweatpants, but with a black t-shirt that showed off your arm sleeve tattoo on your left arm, she was practically drooling. You looked hot as fuck. 

“Hey guys, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N”

“I’m Tara,” she quickly replied, seeing Mindy and Anika grinning at each other with a knowing look from her peripheral vision. 

You gave a smile. You looked cute. You had that cute ass dimples no one could ever resist, Tara thought. You might be the death of her. 

The group settled down and decided to watch a movie, you sat the end of the couch while waiting for the movie to start. Mindy, being an (alleged) amazing wingman she is, literally forced Tara into sitting beside you by pushing her. She sat on the couch with a sigh, annoyed at Mindy’s antics and rolled her eyes. Sam was just giggling at the other side of the couch. 

As much as Sam didn’t trust you, she was glad that Tara could act like a normal teenager again. After multiple therapy sessions, she gave Tara a little bit of more freedom and let her make her own decisions, even if it’s distasteful to her. That doesn’t mean she wouldn’t tase someone in the balls again, though. 

You mistakenly thought the sigh Tara gave out was because she had to sit beside you. You had known about what happened to their group from Chad, after he poured his heart out when he was blackout drunk. You understood the group of friends can be lack trust and be suspicious of new people. 

“Sorry, did you want to sit with someone else? I can sit on the floor if you want-“

“No! I mean it’s okay, I don’t mind sitting with you,” Tara replied with a heavy tint on her cheeks, embarrassed at her sudden reaction. 

Throughout the movie, you were munching on your pizza, oblivious to the amount of times Tara took glances at you while trying to think of topics to create a conversation with you. 

“So..How do you find the movie?” Tara questioned you, trying to get to know you a little bit better. 

“It’s alright, though I prefer other scary movies. I definitely do have favourites.”

“Oh, what’s your favourite horror film?”

“I absolutely love The Babadook, it’s amazing because I..” Any words that you uttered out of that beautiful mouth of yours disappeared. The universe must be sending a sign, she needs you badly. There’s no way Chad’s super cute, hot roommate would coincidentally like The Babadook, Tara thought 

“Blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff..” was all she could hear. 

You on the other hand, only saw Tara staring at you blankly while she had her own inner turmoil and crisis.

“Uh, Tara..? You alright there?” you chuckled awkwardly.

“What? Oh, yeah sorry. I love The Babadook too! What’s your favourite scene?” Tara smoothly taught of a way to continue the conversation, silently cheering for herself. 

It took you both 2 horror films and a shared bag of popcorn to exchange numbers. Tara was secretly cheering in ecstasy of course. She would’ve jumped around and start dancing if she could. It was already close to midnight, and Sam decided that they should go back home before it’s too late to catch the last train.  Tara was devastated, she wished that she could’ve spent more time with you. 

“Soo, I’ll see you next time then? It was nice seeing you.” You initiated a conversation, seeing that Tara was pouting at Sam while trying to convince her into staying a little while longer

“Y-Yeah, see you. We should continue our horror fanatic activities again,” She chuckled, trying to prolong the moment. You nodded your head, giving her a soft smile while leading her, Sam, and the couple out of the apartment, since Chad was knocked out and asleep.

You took your last goodbyes with the group, even giving Sam a small wave, before closing the door. 

In the elevator, all Anika, Mindy and even Sam did was tease her on how red and lovestruck she looked. She didn’t pay any mind to it, all she could ever think of was you. 

[agarafile]

When the session ends, Gem watches as her snail retreats back to her shell, no longer determined to kill her.

It makes sense, she thinks.

Gem still remembers wanting to kill and hurt, wanting to sink her teeth into the other players' skin and watch them bleed. And even more clearly, she remember the frustation she felt when she failed to do so.

Her snail must feel the same way, and now defaulted to sulking.

God, she is so cute! Gem is going to miss her deadly little face next session.

She kneels down next to her and lets a soft sigh escape.

"Yeah, yeah. I know the feeling, buddy..." she pats her shell "Take your time, let it all out."

Her snail doesn't try to give any response, still bundled up in her shell. Gem rolls her eyes, smiling. So stubborn, who did she even get it from?

Gem leaves her be, knows that sooner or later the snail will give in. The snail may be mad now, but if Gem knows herself, she probably won't stay mad forever.

Probably.

She tends to the wheat while she waits, one knee planted to the ground, until she feels a slimy touch on her ankle.

"Finally getting out of your shell, huh?" Gem looks down and frowns.

Looking at her was not her cute snail, with her orange shell and bright green eyes. Instead, the snail that touched her had light blue beady eyes, a brown shell and seemed to have hair.

" Did Pearl put you up to this?" Gem makes a face, clearly displeased with her visitor "Is she really making her own snail bother me now?"

Pearl's snail only tilted her body in response, eyes lightly hitting eachother from the movement.

Gem hated that she found that endearing.

"Go back to your player. I have enough problems to deal with and I'm not looking foward to add babysitting to the list."

She tried to go back to the wheat, she really did. But Pearl's snail nuzzled onto her leg and bumped her shell against her ankle. Gem looked back to her and the snail's eyes seemed to shine for her.

Sighing, she turned to the snail and sat cross-legged in front of her. Pearl's snail let out a excited sound and hopped into Gem's lap, nuzzling once she settled herself.

" This is a bad idea." Gem says, but lets the snail stay and after a moment, brings her hand to stroke her shell "You're not supposed to be here. Or like me. She betrayed me, you know? You should treat me like that, too."

The snail only anwer is to munch lightly on the side of Gem's thumb where it is resting on her own thigh, not at all aiming to hurt. It is such a dumb, senseless gesture. Gem feels like a dagger was just carved into her back and feels t twist, makes her get misty-eyed.

She stops looking down at Pearl's snail, it's become too much. Instead, she tries to look at her own snail but finds she is nowhere to be found.

Gem can only hope she isn't crawling into Pearl's lap.

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“… do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[earth4angels]

HOUR OF THE STARS 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⠀⠀𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: love had two endings. every ending that was read in the book of the fate never appealed to anyone. it was either to accept the one you love walk down the aisle with someone else or to kill anything that stood your way. ⠀⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst with no happy endings. major character death. mentions of adultery? short quick lovemaking. mentions of blood/gore. reader takes control, shes heartbroken, sad. the dance did not happen. jacaerys had his wife chosen to become king. very short one shot.

The invitation from House Targaryen seemed as though it burned through your vanity, the weight of its contents mocked you. Your cold dainty fingers ran through the expensive parchment paper, the words burning through your brain. The words kept repeating over and over, your mouth moved in silence reading the heading. You did not know whether or not to begin to allow the salty tears your eyes were holding back to pool its way down your cheeks or to scream into the void of your window where the clouds were your only comfort.

You knew this day was coming. The denial carried on your shoulders, the hope overcoming the fears that denied you sleep every night. Every kiss, every touch, every whisper and moan as hands roamed bodies late at night held desperation to dishonor the duties from birth.

A choked sobbed ripped from your chest as you crumbled onto the coldness of your floor. The knife twisted and pushed so deep you gasped as every tear pooled along your embroidered dress.

HOUSE TARGARYEN INVITES YOU TO JOIN THE UNION OF: PRINCE JACAERYS VELARYON AND PRINCESS BAELA TARGARYEN.

The reality now stared at you washing away every hope that you held onto as you allowed to love with every pounding moment. This was no one's fault but yours and your lover that kissed you promising he would fight for your hand and no matter what his mother - the queen - said he would never leave you.

That night as you held the rich parchment paper that smelled like oakwood and faint salty waters, you cried loudly as the stars rained down by the permission of the Gods who allowed a shower of sadden angels carry your pain.

Several nights passed and the Vale held a sentiment of loneliness and white silence. Locked away in your chambers you sat with your head empty, your chest remained with a gaping hole. Your heart remained in the hands of the honorable man that begged to see you one last time.

Your eyes were wide open staring blankly at the clouds that moved against your windows. You wore nothing but your sleeping silks. Every single day passed, and you repeated a cycle that was forcing your legs to move towards the warmth waters of your bath and back to the bed. A cycle that never wavered considering the fact you felt like the time had stopped and all you had left was death.

The pages of your book felt hard against your fingers that shivered from the open window of your balcony. Your long hair covered your features from the ravens and the moon that only wanted to console the pain. The door creaked open; your fingers only stopped trailing the words of the passage though you made no move to look at the intruder of your silence.

"You will catch a cold if you allow the cold air in more," the voice that made you weak in the legs made you flutter like a mockingbird's wings. You were afraid to look into the eyes that made you want to drown.

"Can you look at me?" He said as he stepped closer, his red cloak trailed the paleness of your floors. The moon shined a light upon his skin making him glow. "Please."

Your voice was soft, low that at first it sounded like nothing to Jacaerys but then he understood. You never moved; he watched as your hands held onto the hard cover of the book you read tightly; he saw the faint lines of your veins protruding.

"To what can I serve you Prince Jacaerys?"

Your words were like sharp knives stabbing him repeatedly. He deserved it, he failed to convince his mother of his true love. The one he truly wanted to marry and walk along him as his Queen. His mother's words repeated in the back of his head like a reminder of his duties as future king of The Seven Kingdoms.

"As I was your age, I had to marry to bring honor and because it was my duty as heir. I know you will do the same, and there is nothing better than unifying the family and making our blood stronger than marrying Princess Baela."

The burden of being an older son, the heir to the throne suddenly felt too hard for him. He was raised with responsibilities, honor and faith. There was only ever a woman to him and that was you, who avoided his gaze as all he had to gaze softly to be the silhouette of your smooth back.

"Y/n... please. I am deeply --"

You scoffed, throwing your book across the room, you raised your hand to stop him. "I beg your pardon. Are you truly sorry?"

"I am. I wanted to tell you first; I wanted to be the one to deliver my failed attempts to beg my mother to allow me to court you officially instead of hiding in the shadows of our walls!"

Jacaerys never raised his voice, but he was desperate, angry and most of all he was hurt. He was minutes away from walking away from the one person who kept him uphold and strong. You were the person that lifted his spirits, the person he would choose over anyone if he could over and over.

Finally with a tear that slipped from your dull eyes, you faced him, your figure frail and delicate compared to the woman he was used to seeing. The strong, fierce lady of the Vale who was good with her swords stood upon him with dark circles and chapped lips, her hair that was constantly braided in pretty twirls was in tangles.

"You are standing in front of me spurting lies, Prince Jacaerys. I would like for you to leave and never come back."

His title never sounded more humilating than coming from your mouth. He cringed at the coldness of your voice that cracked towards the end. He was not going to leave; he will never leave you.

"No, my lady. I will not."

You sniffled, your lips curling into a tight line.

"What do you want from me? What more do you want? I saw the invitation; I knew this was coming and I was a fool! I held an illusion that you and I could ever be! The worse part of this union is not that we were given false hope but..." You paused, the tears feeling like hot trails of lava down your cold cheeks, "You promised to try."

It was then his strong facade fell. The sounds of your choked sobs that you fought hard to keep within was enough to send him to the pits of the Gullet. He had told Baela of his relationship, and she was regretful, full of pity for her cousin that had no choice but to follow the tradition of their family.

"Go to her Jace," was all she said before she placed a warm hand on his shoulder and a soft kiss on his cheek. "The least you could do is give her peace."

Jacaerys moved, his feet like an instinct walked towards the one that made his heart throb so loudly he feared the Gods heard. You stood with your head in your hands as you sobbed, holding in the cries that began to hurt your chest and throat. He wrapped his strong arms around you, never moving, never once debating if he should step away. When you began to fight against his hold, your yelps of hurt as you swatted at his chest repeatedly, he only held you as he cried with you.

"I love you more than the stars loves the sky, more than the moon loves the sun, more than air and anything in the world."

You sobbed against his chest, your head shaking in disbelief, "No. No. No. No."

Jacaerys held your face, his heart breaking in tiny pieces that had no repair. He cried as he nodded, the tears streamed down his freckled cheeks rapidly, his lashes carrying the droplets of a broken future. "I love you. I do. I love you more than anyone. I am so sorry. I am sorry I failed. I am sorry I cannot give you what I promised --"

You interrupted his ramble as you swallowed his pain with yours. The kiss was wet, desperate and filled with agony that had both lovers crying a future they wanted to fulfil.

"One last time. Please."

Jacaerys broke away in a short exhale, he trembled, "I cannot... Baela."

You smiled softly, "You have not married her, and after today you will never see me again."

He shook his head, denying the cold truth, "No... You cannot leave me. I can try again. I can end the marriage. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives."

You only smiled tearfully, the words igniting a huge hole that had you wanting to throw yourself to an angry dragon at the pit of King's Landing.

"Jacaerys," you shushed him, your hands brushing back the wet strands of his curls, "I love you. My heart is always and forever will be yours."

He gathered you in his arms as he whimpered, "Y/n... please. Don't give up. I have not, I will fight my mother -"

You kissed him once again, this time with more force as you made sure you marked your scent, your presence deep in his skin. He moaned with a deep need to forever be in your hold. He wanted more, he needed you to bond yourself with him one last time.

As you laid him in the fur of your bed, you leaned over him. Capturing his hands as you laid kisses on his palm, memorizing every bump, tethered skin and beauty marks that made him real. He only watched quietly, his hands on your thighs, trailing a path of recorded memories that he will always remember.

Your lips trailed his skin, counting how many kisses and slight bites it took to reach his forbidden lips. Your words marked a poem that will never leave his mind till the day they burn his body by dragon fire.

"In this space right here that we have made for each other," you kissed his chest, your fingers removing every piece of clothing one by one, "You can say anything, and I will not abandon you..." You sat on his lap watching him with teared eyes matching his, slowly you placed your lips upon his, never moving, just allowing the breath of his broken heart ink itself into your soul. Finally, you said, tears flowing, splattering upon Jacaerys' cheeks, "Unwrap the worst things you have done and watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch."

He gasped, his eyes widening when he felt you sink onto his cock so painfully slow all he did was cry as he held you. In a rhythm of loud sobs and tearful kisses, you allowed to be surrendered by the heat of Jacaerys Velaryon, your king, one last time.

Jacaerys never flinched when you marked his skin, he counted every lash on your eyelids, every mark on your skin from the wars you had been through. He kissed and licked every part of your body that left you crying his name out into the cold air. From afar he heard his dragon, his soul bonded mate roar into the air and he smiled. He smiled as you trembled into his hold, he smiled as you opened your eyes as much as you could to watch as his mouth devoured your insides. He smiled against your skin when your fingers tugged into his curls as his tongue was deep in your haven, he smiled when he felt the juices of your nectar flow down his throat, he smiled tearfully against your neck as he profoundly declared the love he had for you.

He smiled with trembling hands that held yours in complete silence as he begged to look at him straight in the eye one last time, coming together from the highs you were going to miss. He groaned as he released his seed deep inside you, marking your walls and your entire being as his.

In silence, you watched as he gathered his things, clipping his cloak onto his vest. He moved towards you and wrapped you around his waist as he prepared a bath for you. When you complained to wash him, he swatted your hand aside.

"What am I to let you do that for me? Tonight, let me treat you my beautiful love."

You did not know how much you could cry, but every touch of his had you with a final decision. Life without Jacaerys was not possible. So, as he playfully ticked you, and washed your hair delicately with a gentle smile on his tired face you stared in silence, memorizing for the final moments of your life how it felt to be loved by a man who had no choice but to follow a duty.

He sat by you, his back pressed against the headboard of your wide bed, you laid against him. He said nothing and you were okay with that fact. You were also just appreciating the happiest times of your life. His fingers played with your hands as he laid kisses on your head, he took a deep breath, breathing in your scent of vanilla.

He swore as he heard you fall asleep against him, mummering against the open shoulder of yours, "I promise, I will make you my wife, my Queen, no matter the consequence. You and I are meant to rule together. I promise."

That promise never became true.

On a full moon, where the stars rained down from the heavens. The rushed steps he took as he desperately wanted to make his petition to his mother. He stopped, the hopeful smile that laid on his lips slipping, there, beside his mother stood Lady Jeyne Arryn in black. His eyes quickly scanned for your bright, beautiful face, seeing you nowhere, he felt the surge of pain. The pain was so deep it felt like he was burned alive, like water seeping into his lungs and he wanted to scream for help.

On the night of a half-moon, hidden behind numerous clouds, no stars in sight, you had taken your life in the cruelest way. Among the highest mountain where you had given your maidenhood to the love of your life, you had taken poison. The guards of your home found you with a smile on your face as your entire body was covered in blood, you choked in your own blood as the crows made a feast of your cold body. Upon records, you went missing for a week, the day after you saw Jacaerys you had met with a witch to make a drink to die peacefully.

With holes in your body, like the hole of your chest you refused to live further with, you laid at peace knowing that perhaps in another universe like the stories in the library, you had found a forever with the prince.

There Jacaerys stood years later, now with a crown on his head. Life without you was hard, but he pushed beyond the pain he felt every single passing moon. He knew you would have wanted him to live. So he did, he lived and began his rule. Jacaerys the Gentle, the Wise. The kingdom never saw their king with a smile, and stories will tell of the tale of doomed lovers and the Queen who could have been.

Vermax stood by his rider, growling in pain. He too missed your presence. Jacaerys stood quietly, his face now older, the age of two and nine now making its way to his once youthful features. A tear fell upon his stoic face, he smiled as he saw a shooting star flash across the skies.

He vowed, knowing you could hear him. He believed it. He knew that every brush of wind that made itself known, was you. He knew that every time he flew across the skies, and he saw the skies filled with stars, was you.

"If the Gods have her, or to whom, protects her until we meet again. Please tell her, that when the sun goes down, I think of her. Please tell her, that I never once forgot the sound of her voice calling my name." He choked in his begging, "Please. To whoever has her, please let her know that she lives in my heart and that everywhere I go I will always, forever see her face."

A flower was left in the spot you were found years ago. As King Jacaerys Targaryen flew away, he softly reminded the wide skies that carried a love, "I love you, always and forever, till we meet again my love."

TAGLISTS:

jace nation (open): @thenotesapppoet @agqrtz @girlthatislost @writtenapoiogy @vividxpages @smurfelle @number-0-iz @star611 @intheheartoftheking @nixtape-foryou @velaryonbastard @still-jon-snow @ethereal-athalia natties angel list (open): @aemondvelaryon @peri4stral @yohanseyebrowmole mooties, slut cult: @cregnstark @divinesolas @hxtd @benjinotes @bucksplum @eldrith @princessbellecerise @xxselenite @bryscorner @vee-mage @v3lary0ns @swordgrace @housetargaryenloyalist @astrxq @manhandlememando

[honeybelleee]

for you i’d bleed | p.js

req ( anon & my bae @kpopiedictionary ) : down bad boyfriend jay fighting someone who talked bad about you in your absence + passionate sex but dom!y/n

pairings - jay x fem!reader

genre - established relationship, dom!y/n x sub downbad!jay, smut (MDNI), fluff

warnings - lower case intended, fighting, jay getting injured, mention of blood, heavy oral (m receiving), pwp, y/n getting objectified

1,3 ++ wc ! masterlist

jay had never imagined he’d be fighting to defend y/n from someone so close to him, but the bitter reality hit when his friend’s careless mouth spewed inappropriate, lewd remarks about y/n in her absence.

the argument flared quickly, blazing like a fire out of control. jay’s friend, wearing a smug, dismissive grin, shrugged off jay’s fury as if y/n were meaningless a joke.

"why are you getting so worked up man?" his friend sneered. "if she wasn’t your girl, i’d fuck that pussy real good. she’s got a body that—”

“don’t,” jay interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “don’t talk about her like that. you have no idea who she is, and you clearly don’t respect her.”

his friend scoffed, crossing his arms. “come on jay, it’s just a joke. lighten up. it’s not like she’d ever even find out i said anything.”

jay stepped closer, fury flashing in his eyes. “that’s not the point. if you think I’m going to let you talk about my girlfriend like that, you’re dead wrong.”

“oh, so now you’re gonna act all tough? over a few words? you used to be fun, bro,” his friend taunted, raising his eyebrows in mock amusement.

jay’s patience finally snapped. “a real friend wouldn’t disrespect the woman i love,” he said through gritted teeth, “and a real man wouldn’t need to put someone down like this to feel big.”

jay's fists clenched, his blood boiling at the blatant disrespect toward someone he cherished. he couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t just let it slide. his friend’s sick remarks and arrogant stance only spurred jay on until he couldn’t hold back anymore.

with a surge of anger, jay threw the first punch, connecting with his friend’s jaw. the impact left him stumbling, but he recovered, lashing back and landing a wild swing that split jay's lip. ignoring the pain, jay lunged forward, grabbing his friend by the collar and slamming him into the wall, “if I ever hear you talk about her again, i’ll fucking kill you. understood?”

the friend, suddenly realizing the depth of jay’s anger, muttered, “alright… fine. i’m sorry. i went too far.”

jay stormed off, his mind racing as he headed straight for y/n's place. as he reached her apartment, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorbell. his face was bruised and bloodied, and he didn't want to scare her. but the door swung open before he could change his mind, and there she was, looking concerned and beautiful in her silk robe.

"jay, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

he tried to smile, but the pain from his split lip made it more of a grimace. "just a little disagreement with a friend."

y/n's eyes widened as she took in his battered appearance. "oh baby, come in! we need to get you cleaned up."

jay followed her inside, feeling a mix of shame and desire. he knew he had overreacted, but the thought of that guy disrespecting y/n had made his blood boil.

in the bathroom, y/n gently guided him to the sink, her touch soft and soothing. she ran a damp cloth over his face, wiping away the blood and grime. her fingers were gentle as she dabbed at the cut above his eyebrow, her breath warm against his skin.

"does it hurt?" she asked, her voice low and concerned.

"not as much as my pride," jay replied, his voice hoarse with emotion.

y/n's eyes locked with his, and in that moment, something shifted between them. she could see the hurt and anger in his eyes, but also a raw, primal desire. her heart raced as she realized the effect she had on him.

"you fought for me," she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and arousal.

jay nodded, unable to speak as the emotions overwhelmed him. he had always been the protective type, but this was different. the thought of someone sexualizing y/n had sent him into a blind rage.

y/n's fingers trailed down his jaw, her touch electric as she caressed his bruised face.

"you're so beautiful when you're angry," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

jay shivered at her touch, his body responding to her words. he had always been the dominant one in their relationship, but now, as she stood before him, her eyes burning with desire, he felt a surge of submission.

"y/n, i..." he began, but she placed a finger on his lips, silencing him.

"shh," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "let me take care of you."

with that, she dropped to her knees before him, her hands sliding up his thighs, her touch sending shivers through his body. jay's breath caught in his throat as he felt her fingers brush against the bulge in his pants.

"i want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice throaty with desire.

"let me show you how much i appreciate what you did for me."

jay groaned as she unbuttoned his jeans, his cock springing free, hard and throbbing. y/n's eyes widened at the sight of his thick, erect shaft, her lips parting in anticipation.

"you're so hard for me baby," she purred, her voice filled with satisfaction.

she leaned forward, her breath hot against the tip of his cock, and then she took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his length. jay's eyes rolled back in his head as pleasure surged through his body. y/n's mouth was warm and wet, her tongue swirling around his sensitive head, driving him wild.

she sucked him with a passion he had never experienced before, her hands gripping his thighs as she took him deeper into her throat. jay's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to hold back his orgasm, wanting to prolong this moment of pure ecstasy.

"fuck, y/n," he groaned, his voice hoarse with desire. "your mouth feels so fucking good."

y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. she pulled back, her lips glistening with his precum, and looked up at him with a wicked smile.

"i want you to fuck my face," she whispered, her eyes daring him to take control.

jay's heart pounded as he realized she was giving him permission to be rough, to take what he wanted. he placed his hands on her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and began to thrust gently at first, but soon the primal urge took over, and he was pounding into her mouth with abandon.

y/n's moans and gasps fueled his desire, her hands gripping his hips, urging him on. her tongue danced against his shaft, her lips tight around him, and he could feel her throat constricting around his cock as he plunged deeper.

"oh baby i'm gonna cum," he grunted, his body tensing as the orgasm built.

y/n's eyes flashed with excitement, and she pulled back, her hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking him in rhythm with her mouth. jay's body convulsed as he exploded, his cum shooting into her mouth, down her throat, and over her lips. she swallowed eagerly, sucking him dry, her eyes never leaving his.

as he caught his breath, y/n stood, her body flushed and her lips glistening with his release. she pressed herself against him, her breasts pressing into his chest, and kissed him deeply, sharing the taste of his cum.

"i love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "i love you too, ready for round two?”

jay will bleed for u if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

[solelifauna]

GUYS THIS COMMENT FROM @silken-moons ON THE WEREWOLF AU HAS ME LOCKED IN.

silken-moons:

Wait....so what happened to Kon or Conner in this au ? Was he the one eaten since he was basically half human and kryptonian too assuming lex is human in this au too.

I am more than happy to elaborate.

Lex is a half-human half-werewolf hybrid like the reader. So Conner would be half-kryptonian and only a fourth werewolf. When Clark finds out about his existence he’s pissed (at first). Superman doesn’t hesitate before finding Luthor and melting his skull in with his laser vision. It’s quite the graphic scene, Conner unfortunately being there to witness it all.

Conner is pressed back into some crevice in Luthor's office, doing his best to calm his heart beat, stave off his on-coming panic attack, and pray that Superman won’t kill him. Clark of course finds him curled in on himself, hyperventilating, tears streaming down his teenage face.

Conner is blubbering, he thinks, trying to communicate some type of garbled “please” and “I’m sorry” and “don’t hurt me please”. Superman just critically eyes him before knocking the clone out. Now, in the beginning he was just planning on taking the clone to the Watch Tower to interrogate him and then kill him. Perhaps Jon would like the extra meat?

But after watching the clone wake up alone in one of the containment units, crying quietly to himself as he rocked back and forth, he started to feel a little bad. He thought back onto the way the clone had practically begged him for mercy through his own panic attack. He's read Lex Luthor's files on "Superboy", how this clone had no flight, was not invulnerable, and couldn't even throw out half of Clark's strength.

This clone was no threat, no, in fact he was a gift. Another Kryptonian (even if the clone was only half with human DNA in his mix). And even better, the clone boy had no ill intentions towards the JL, hell, the boy looked afraid that anyone even considered the idea. No, no, no, this boy, his boy, was so sweet.

From the way he leaned into Clarks palm when he caressed the sleeping boys face, to the way he clung to Clark and his approval like a touch starved puppy, Clark couldn't help himself. The only problem now was getting his Wife and Son on the same page. He knew werewolf customs, he knew what it meant for Conner (a name his new son had previously picked out).

It would probably be easier to convince Jon considering the poor kid's been wanting a sibling for a long time now (Jon is 8 right now, but still all the same crazy). Lois might take a bit more time, considering pack bonds and the human part of Conner. So with a heavy heart, he kisses his new baby goodnight, as he flies home for he night. Yes, its been a couple of weeks since Connors arrival and he still hasn't told his family. he plans to amend that today.

He expects growling and demands for flesh. he expects outrage from his wife, or even a calm cool collected "bring him to me". What he gets instead are demands from Lois to see Conner, her new son. Clark blinks in surprise before he's fumbling with his phone, opening up his camera role where has has a million new pictures of Conner. Lois only grabs his phone, cooing over the pictures with adoration in her eyes. Well, Clark is pleasantly surprised.

"You're not mad are you Lois?" Clark asks gently.

"Oh I'm not mad Smallville, I'm livid." She all but growls, a smile still etched on her face as she continues scrolling. "You knew about him for weeks, and didn't even bother letting me know. I had a son for weeks, and he's been by himself."

Clark winces. "I know Lois, I know. I just-I was just afraid that you wouldn't want him the way I do. That you'd rip him open, hell, even I considered it in the beginning!"

Lois looks up from his phone, a knowing smile, a soft one, on her face. "I know farm boy, I know. But its important that you remember we don't always kill and eat the weak. Sometimes, its nice to have something that you can love and take care of, something that relies on you and only you."

"is that what you have planned for Connor?"

"Of course. He's our son now, and after everything he's been through, its out job to keep him and Jon safe. Until he can prove himself capable, he's not leaving the den."

A content grin makes its way onto Clarks face. Oh how he loved his wife. "I wouldn't have it any other way Lois. I'll bring him here tomorrow. Now, lets go let our other little rascal know."

Lois smirks. "I agree. Lord knows he's been waiting to have a-"

"-I have a new brother!" Comes the familiar voice of Jon Kent, cutting his mother off in his excitement.

Clark raises his eyebrow fondly, feigning exasperation. "Did you listen in on our conversation Jonathan Samuel Lane-Kent?"

"Of course I did! Well-I didn't mean to, but I couldn't help it! You said I have a brother and I wanna see him!" Jon all but whines.

"Well honey, dad said he'd bring him home tomorrow okay."

"Really!?"

"You betcha. But Jon, you have to be gentle with him okay? He doesn't know werewolf or Kryptonian customs okay?" His dad says.

"Okay, I promise i'll be gentle." Jon swears, nodding up and down.

Lois sighs fondly. "And its important to know that he is part human, do you know what that means?"

"Mhm! It means that he's not allowed out the den or the house, and that its our job to protect him 'cause he's weak." Jon repeats from his memory.

"Good job Jon! You're going to be the best brother, I just know you are." His mom says.

Jon preens under the praise.

He can't wait to meet his new brother!

~~~~~

The next day arrives slower than anyone would have liked.

The morning sunlight filters through the sky as Clark flies Conner to him penthouse in Metropolis, cradling the boy carefully as he slumbers. Conner stirs in his arms, eyes fluttering open, a brief panic flashing in them until he meets Clark’s calm gaze.

“Where-where are we?” Conner mumbles, clutching at Clark’s shirt with a grip that feels hesitant, almost reluctant.

“We’re going home,” Clark replies, a small smile on his face. “Your new home. Your family’s waiting for you, Conner.”

Conner’s eyes widen, his mouth opening as if to protest, but the words die on his lips. His gaze shifts away, and he nods mutely, not quite daring to believe that this “family” will truly accept him. He’s felt so disposable for so long; he almost can’t imagine what it’s like to be wanted.

The penthouse doors open, and Lois stands there, her sharp gaze softening the instant she sees Conner. She steps forward, reaching out a hand in a silent invitation. Conner hesitates, clinging to Clark a little tighter, and Clark gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, Conner,” he murmurs. “I'm here for you.”

With a slow, tentative step, Conner reaches out, letting Lois pull him into a gentle hug. Her arms are firm around him, warm but unyielding, a silent promise of protection, though he senses the fierce strength just below the surface. She smooths his hair with surprising gentleness, her voice soft as she whispers, “Welcome home, Conner.”

Conner relaxes, allowing himself to take a deep, shuddering breath. This feels strange. He's never really had a home before. Luthor's compound was last place he felt safe, let alone a place he'd call home. And that word, that feeling-safe. He isn’t sure he's ever felt it outside Superman, sorry, his Dad's arms.

And isn't that a crazy thing, he has a Dad now. Superman, Clark Kent was his Dad.

Jon, standing just a few steps away, is practically vibrating with excitement. When Lois finally releases Conner, Jon bounds over, a wide grin on his face.

“Hi! I’m Jon, your brother!” He pauses, then adds, almost reverently, “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Conner blinks in surprise, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks as he mumbles, “I-thank you, Jon.”

Lois places a hand on Jon’s shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Remember what we talked about, Jon. Conner’s still adjusting. Be patient with him.”

Jon nods enthusiastically, but there’s a possessive glint in his eyes as he looks at Conner, a silent vow to protect his new brother from anything—or anyone—that might threaten him. Conner notices this look, a strange chill running down his spine, but he says nothing.

As the day unfolds, Conner tries to settle into this new life, though it feels almost too good to be true. Lois and Clark are attentive, constantly ensuring he’s comfortable, while Jon barely leaves his side, eager to show him every corner of the penthouse, as if staking his claim. Meals are filled with warmth and laughter, and yet Conner can’t shake the feeling of being watched, almost obsessively.

That night, as Conner lies in the bed they’ve prepared for him, he hears the soft creak of footsteps outside his door. It opens quietly, and Clark steps inside, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. He walks over to the bed, looking down at Conner with an intense, unreadable expression.

“You’re part of this family now, Conner,” Clark says quietly, brushing a hand over Conner’s forehead in a strangely tender gesture. “Nothing will take you from us. Not anyone. You’re ours, do you understand?”

Conner nods, his throat tightening, unable to find words. Clark’s gaze softens, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to Conner’s forehead before turning and leaving the room, leaving Conner alone with a flurry of conflicted feelings. For the first time in his life, he feels wanted, cherished, trapped, as though he’s become a prized possession in a family he can never escape.

But, maybe, a small voice inside him whispers, he doesn’t want to escape at all.

Well folks, here's more lore on relationships outside of the Batfam. Let me know chat, am I cooking? New chap, out soon!

[forever-rogue]

Your fics kill me and bring me back to life queen! Requesting Joel and fem!reader almost dying from a clicker attack; Joel and her end up getting blood stained, give each other a bath in the same tub, and talk about what’s to come.

AN | This concept is both so sad but so soft ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 1.9k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Both you and Joel were covered in blood, guts, and bits of brain. 

You’d been doing your best not to cry, trying to remain somewhat composed but it was hard. The tears were welling up in your eyes but none of them had managed to roll down your cheeks just yet. You were fighting them back; you knew that once the tears started it would open the floodgates and all the pent up emotions would come right out. 

Joel, meanwhile, looked almost…fine. Not fine, but not like you, ready to fall apart at any moment. You supposed that he was more used to it, the violence and gore, while you were still fairly…unfamiliar. Admittedly, you had very little ‘real’ world experience compared to Joel. You knew that one day, you’d probably come across the infected, but you hadn’t expected that it would come close to costing you your life. 

Your partner had been all but silent as he sprang into action to help save you while you panicked, screamed, and cried, probably attracting almost everything around you. Joel had remained the image of cool and collected as he took them all down to make sure you were safe. 

Once you were safe and accounted for, he’d hauled you to your feet and started making his way back home, keeping you close behind. Neither of you spoke a word, the silence loud enough to speak volumes. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got back to the home you shared with Joel, you felt like you were on the verge of a mental breakdown. You closed the door behind the two of you, before leaving against it and sliding to the floor, in a small heap of sobs. You weren’t able to contain the emotions any longer and they all spilled out at once. You didn’t even care that you were dirty and smelly, you just couldn’t be bothered to keep going at that moment. 

Joel had already started making his way upstairs but stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he heard your first sob. He turned back around and quickly made his way over to you, dropping to his knees right to see what was going on.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, reaching for your face and gently taking it in his hands. He hated to see you crying, especially right now, when you had just had a near death experience. Joel brushed your tears away, trying to hide his frown when he noticed all the grime and blood still sticking to your skin. He wished you hadn’t had to experience such a thing; he’d tried to protect but failed. He could have, should have, done more, “baby, you’re alright. It’s okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You managed a small nod, your lip trembling as a few more tears ran down your cheeks. Joel gently shushed you before pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. With the little energy and strength you had remaining, you hugged him back, burying your face into his chest. He held you for a while, letting you get out your tears, and occasionally offering you a few gentle words of reassurance. When you felt like you were all dried up and your throat was raw, you pulled back and looked at him with puffy, red eyes and a forlorn expression on your face. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I swear it.”

“Joel,” you managed to choke out his name, “I…today...it was horrible.”

“I know,” he brushed his knuckles along your cheek, his heart hurting for what you had just been through. He’d gone through it enough times himself and had gotten to the point where he had become almost numb to it all. It was a horrible thing really, to become so desensitized to actions that had once been considered carnage. He was silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say. There wasn’t much to say and he couldn’t just turn back time, “it becomes easier over time, but I don’t want it to become easier for you. I don’t want you to have to go through that again.”

“But,” you looked at him with wide eyes as you grabbed his hands and held them tightly in yours. You’d been so caught up in your own woes that you hadn’t even considered how Joel could have been feeling, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he offered you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, that didn’t quite feel genuine, “I’m alright.”

“Are you?” your question came softly, whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He paused for a moment before hanging his head and giving it a gentle shake. You breathed in softly and exhaled through your nose before wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a tight hug, squeezing him with everything you had, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he murmured softly as he buried himself in you, breathing in your soft scent and allowing it to wash over him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After a short while, you slowly untangled yourselves before making your way upstairs to the bathroom. You were almost desperate to get the dirt and grime and whatever else was on your body so you could feel like a human again. 

When you got upstairs and into the bathroom, Joel immediately turned on the shower, getting it just as warm as you liked. He turned to you, slowly and reverently starting to peel off your clothes. You lifted your arms as so he could remove your shirt, a small sound escaping your lips as the cloth stuck to a few of the superficial wounds you’d managed to obtain. It already felt a million times better just to be free of your shirt, which was quickly followed by your bra. 

Joel’s touch was gentle as he undid the button of your jeans before helping you to step out of them and kicking them to the side to get them as far away as possible. Your underwear was next and you left standing there naked. It didn’t matter though; just shedding the layers allowed you to feel a million times better.

You wiped some of the grim from your face before motioning for Joel to step closer to you. He did so, his face becoming more gentle as he watched you. You reached for the hem of his henley, slowly pulling it over his head and tossing it into the pile of your clothes. Your lips pulled into a small frown when you realized that his ribs and shoulder were already starting to bruise. You trailed your fingers softly along his skin, tutting under your breath.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” he insisted, which you knew was only for your benefit, “nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” you insisted, reaching for his belt buckle and slowly undoing it before and tugging his jeans down his legs. Joel pulled down his boxers before kicking it all away, “I already feel better. Just having the gross clothes gone.”

He made a small sound in response before pulling the shower curtain back so you could get inside and under the warmth of water. You let out an audible sigh at the feeling of the warm water cascading all over your skin. Joel stepped in after you, shoulders sagging with relief that the day was over and that you were both home safe. 

“C’mere,” he grabbed your shoulders and tenderly traded places with you. He grabbed the shampoo bottle, pouring some into his hand before moving to wash your hair. You tried to ignore the water that was running off your bottles and red swirls that ran down the drain. It was over and you were okay. Joel started to lather the shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp just how he knew you loved. You had to work to keep in the moan that threatened to spill out of your mouth at the feeling. 

He worked in silence for a while as you tried to relax and forget about the horrors of the day. It was when he was about halfway through conditioning your hair, you realized that tears had run down your face. When you stepped under the water to rinse your hair, Joel wiped away your tears, which managed to bring the smallest smile to your face. 

Once your hair was washed, you went to reach for the bar of soap but Joel beat you to it, working quickly to get your body clean and wash away the rest of dirt and grime that had been left on your body.

“Thank you,” you whispered softly, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. The two of you stayed that way for a while, until you felt yourself start to get pruney, “come on, handsome. It’s my turn to get you all clean.”

Joel knew better than to argue with you, and admittedly loved getting his hair washed just as much as you did. You took your time to make sure he was just as clean as you were, pressing gentle kisses to his shoulders and neck. At one point, he took your face in his hands and kissed you until you were breathless. You let him hold you until the water ran cold and both of you were ready to get into pajamas and get into bed. 

Once you got out of the shower and dried off, you stole a shirt and a pair of boxers from Joel and slipped into them before getting into bed for some much needed rest. Joel followed suit and quickly joined you in the bed, letting out a groan at the comfort of being clean and in bed with you. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his warm frame so he was your big spoon.  You put your hand on top of his and offered it a gentle squeeze. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder before whispering in your ear, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you responded, “thank you for protecting me today. I don’t…I don’t know what I would have done without you today. I might be-”

“Shh,” he cut you off, “don’t say anything else. You don’t have to. We’re here now, safe.”

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat in an effort not to cry, “I’m glad for that.”

“Me too,” he promised, “me too.”

It wasn’t long after that until you both managed to fall asleep. 

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

[diorcities]

snooze

jisung x you genre smut content friends with benefits, mention of mingi (hope you get why), cunnilingus, riding, multiple orgasm, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, wc 4k ── you always leave him and he plans to make you stay.

ever since you kissed him, he can’t get you out of his mind.

it had been useless, had it?

it didn't take long for jisung to figure it out. he knows perfectly well that he gets attached quickly, his friends always tease him about it.

much there was say jisung was very chill. he was fine with evasive looks just like fingers pressing into his shoulder blades. the short greetings at gatherings as well as soft sounds muffled against his lips.

jisung couldn't make his head to begin to describe you, and the closest he's come is a little charm at night.

he's been lost because of it. only you can make him fall in love, only if you say yes.

“oh, my god. you can't be serious.” nayeon, dressed like a cheetah, shouts making her way through the tide of people to you, her gaze lost behind you.

and it is both your gift and your curse to know what has her upset without having to look. a boy with fangs and light brown hair with blonde highlights dancing and making out a girl prettier than the previous one and uglier than the next he'll met. “it can't be that he got over you so quickly,” she says while glaring. and despite feeling upset just like your best friend, you can't help but feel this immense lack of something. because while mingi kisses her, he doesn't stop looking at you.

it's been a while since you two broke up. the normal thing would be to keep going, yet you're still in the same place, just without the same feelings except regret. “it's alright,” you hear yourself say, only it's not.

if it makes him feel good to kiss girls in front of you, then it's fine. either way, you're the worst traitor.

it was a bad idea to have come, but you're used to always making a mistake. big ones are just as much a part of you as are your bad decisions. “i'll go smoke a little. listen, if you see ghostface, tell him he owes me money.”

she winks at you, “sure thing, angel.”

you move out of his sight and it feels ridiculous to see himself following your trail with his eyes until you move outside. when he feels that you've ignored him for too long, he's the first to offer truce.

“you look like a dream.” he's been drinking for a while, so he knows he'd never, ever dare to talk to you. but he knows that a couple of beers and the bad influence of his friends must not mix up.

“why?” he wasn't sure if he preferred your obnoxious demeanor or your condescending eyes meeting him. “have you dreamed of me?”

he looks stupid, and you smile wide when a blush tint his cheeks. because yes, he has. despite all the grace and angelic energy that your eyes transmit, jisung is embarrassed that every time he thinks of you the first thing that appears in his dirty mind is those wet eyes trying to stay open while looking at him from under his body. legs wrapped loose around his waist and parted lips inciting him to taste them.

he swallows hard and without meaning to, his eyes feel like two wells. his mouth is dry or maybe he's craved your lips a bit too much. a tingling runs through his fingers and his fingertips buzz. you have no idea how much he wants you, or maybe you do, because you smile wider.

all your grace takes form in dreamy eyes before you kiss him. and kiss him. and kiss him. his emotions get tangled followed by your responsive heart. he can't beat it, the feelings.

it's killing him, and it would hurt him more to admit that he's used all his manipulative tactics; lies and deceit, pretty words, empty promises. but then he looks at you with his pretty pleading love-me eyes and you can't handle it anymore. he kisses the inside of your wrist as he looks at you from below and you almost hesitate.

because that's his curse, or perhaps it is yours. you always leave. you're an angel faced like yet you're full of haunting. with your condescending gaze, virtuous lips stretched in a smile; shiny eyes filled contempt, as if you regretted something that you both tried so hard to ignore so as not to feel guilty. when the truth is, jisung could hardly think of anything other than you.

and he plans to make you stay.

his hand intertwines with yours, and there it is again. a monstrous hesitation. every time this drags on, the more guilty you feel; for thinking of him when you were together.

jisung's kisses drift you to the surface. “is it because of him?” he pronounces, and you've been an idiot for thinking he wouldn't notice at some point. “mingi?” he asks, drawing your hand to his chest, and the gesture causes the devious swarm to disperse as you swallow.

you shake your head, and unexpectedly you chuckle lightly, “no.”

there's no one bound to you. you're not tethered to him anymore, yet it felt like you were betraying him. it seemed like you've made a big mistake a long time ago and now this monstrous thought of whether he will ever forgive you does not cease to haunt you.

you've never been good at keeping your emotions at bay, so guilt eclipses other feelings, it overshadows your heart, beating to the rhythm of his pulse under your palm, slowly moving towards his jawline.

these rendezvous were not going to end well, and even so... you always came back. to him. he smells fresh and manly. he smells familiar.

he likes to eat you out first. it is almost inevitable to do so, as if something were missing. as if he were obsessed. and yet he takes his tortuous time and start kissing your stomach, the soft taut skin of your hip bone, where his hands tuck underneath to place them over his shoulders. “think only of me.”

your full legs bury his head and your femininity is received by caresses. tongue roaming along your core, plump lips sucking you. the right angle makes you sigh, “yes.” your mouth opens in awe and your eyes flutter shut feeling that tingling forming in your guts. just where his hands hold you so you don't move. “yes...” he glances at you the moment he use his tongue to put pressure on the sweet bulge to see you squeeze your eyes and tilt your head back.

he hums, and your whole body shivers feeling the cocky smile on his lips around you, full of spit and arousal covering his face for constantly hitting his nose in your sweet spot. you dissolve into nothing, your blood becomes washy, and you arch violently as he ventures his tongue down your folds into your needy entrance. “a-ahg.”

something hot runs down your belly and explodes into pleasant waves when it tightens your grip and pulls you closer, diving deep to taste your silkiness, hissing when feels too good. “mmm... god.” your teeth grind and your eyes squeeze at the sound his mouth makes every time he rocks his tongue along your sensitive clit, roaming his lips and sucking you rhythmically.

“fuck, you taste divine.” his hot breath brushes against your femininity and the purr of his deep tone causes you to buzz synchronously, the core of your belly sinking and legs trembling at his voice. “so sweet, my girl.”

he shakes his head as he smiles against you, and you're losing your mind at the view of his pretty face enraptured in the aroma of your intimacy. eyes closed while he sucks you good and holds your legs apart from bellow your thighs, keeping you spread for him.

you twitch in delight and his eyes darken having you on full display, grabbing his hair and guiding his motion where you most need him. “oh, yes. there... there.” your back arches unconsciously as your shaking voice tells him where to lick, where to nibble, where to caress. “feels good, ji.”

you're so wet you can hear it every time he rubs your clit dexterously with tongue and teeth, your mind filling with a hazy sensation you can't help but tremble hard, “s-good,” you cry feeling sensitivity numb your hurting nipples once he cups them on his big hands. too much to keep quiet. too much to hold it all in. your shaky moans fill the room when a sharp sensation sink your belly and whip your breath away.

jisung hums thoughtfully in glee when you start pulsing around nothing. unshed tears fills your eyes as you succumb to pain from the pleasure that runs through you from head to toe, buzzing in your bloodstream and making you whine for a bit of friction.

you squirm and arch when he pulls away. and you gasp despite watching him take off his belt from his jeans while his eyes don't leave your pussy, throbbing for him.

he's left you so aroused it hurts, wet and willing, your eyes don't leave him while his are fixed on your ruined pussy, missing his mouth full of your silky excitement. jisung licks his lips in trance, undoing zipper to let out his painful, throbbing erection under his underwear. “want to take it?”

your mouth begins to tingle wildly and an impulse forces you to moan a yes. “all?” your eyes darken and it's almost immediately that your hands draw him to you when he leans just a little, as if he wants to play now to see who needs whom, as if not knowing perfectly well that it has always been you.

from the first time you met.

and deep inside him, having you under him guiding him inside of you, he thought it would give him some satisfaction, but the guilt spreads. of course he was terrified of how he felt about you, maybe you were too? were you terrified of what you might feel for him? what did you already feel?

“oh, fuck.” no matter how many times he buries himself in you, it always has the same effect; it always makes him want more. “you feel so good, fuck,” he breathes and takes a moment to feel you, all around him, squeezing him right.

your body feels light when he thrusts you twice, his breath hitting your cheek when he groans, “i can make you forget about him.” and makes your legs fail.

he feels so nicely thick. the mere friction of his cock inside makes a tremor run down your legs and an explosion of sensations in your lower belly, growing when he starts to penetrate you.

he holds over your stomach, he doesn't take it out completely before he puts it back in, the rhythm making you both sobble with pleasure. it's almost tortuous the way it's not enough, to having him fully, fingers massaging your swollen femininity as he hammers your pelvis with yours, sounding deliciously good.

you fall long after you need each other, ardently. despite being intertwined, despite being skin to skin, he's so far away from you, yet so close you can reach his chest, his sturdy forearm. you can reach his lips.

everything condenses, and you seem to be holding your breath. your stomach tenses and something furious flutters in your belly. rises hot through your bloodstream and you find it desperately luring closer to you, moaning “i'm close.”

the motion of his pounding change and become more violent and faster. “oh, god,” you whimper, feeling yourself collapsing. hands pushing on his stomach before he holds both wrists with one of his.

“be a nice girl for me.”

“ji, please.”

your head lolls back as you feel his cock pounding into you roughly. sharp thrusts eliciting sounds out of you. his big hands cupping your breasts as they bounce rhythmically every time he rocks his dick deep, not being able to fully put it out before coming back in. “fuck, you sound so good, angel. fuck.” he's blushed, mouth is part open and tongue slightly sticking out, in a deep state of ecstasy feeling you around him. “f-fuck.” he takes your leg and passes it over his shoulder, and you see the torturous grimace he makes when a shudder strike you so hard that you cry.

your hand covers your mouth when everything comes down. suddenly everything is overwhelming, rousing. your eyes see through your eyelashes to jisung staring at you, so deep in the intoxicating sensation of being full of you, and you being full of him too, you feel it.

you almost see the resemblance. in the brown hair, in the shape of their mouth kissing you. the way they tend to hold you the same way, frowning at you with saddened eyes from being close, drunk in you, but somehow greeny; as if he still possesses innocence to give you if you ask for it.

the feeling they're both in love with you.

yet so different. from the way they both end and begin, despite everything. if you close your eyes, you barely notice the similarity. if you close your eyes, you let yourself go and just feel.

bodies intertwined. mixed sighs. needy kisses. faster and faster, accelerating the pace of his thrusts, sinking hos fingers deeper into your skin until leaving his fingerprints tattooed, sinking into his neck when you feel the expected tingling of being close to the edge, undoing your inside and freeing a thousand wild sensations.

his cock is sweetly pressed into the swelling of your core when he starts to rub your clit with his eyes glued in your features contracting in a shattering pleasure. feeling all your body tensing and your teeth grinding into each other before the big o that explode your senses into a thousand pieces. dissolving around him in spasms that release waves and waves of liquid pleasure that wet his crotch and make him lose his mind.

you're still throbbing when he moans in your mouth as he kisses you, lips colliding with tiredness as you feel him move in and out, pacing the rhythm. your breath trembles from being so sensitive, yet you willingly spread your legs for him to bury deeper. “don't stop.”

your eyes water when he starts sucking your tit while roaming your sides. skin bristling as your fingers draw a line from his arm to the nape of his neck, combing his hair as he begins to penetrate you again. his hoarse voice making you shudder when you hear him moaning against your chest, fogging your skin.

“making me feel so good, angel.” your mouth parts open as he passes an arm under you and arches you toward him, tucking one of your breasts between his lips, using the new grip to make you go down full to his cock, sinking his teeth in the sweet skin of your tits.

he fucks you raw and your blood runs hot. moving you with ease to rest on your side as he align his cock and slide into your pillowy walls drenched in arousal, making you bite the pillow when he hits a different angle.

your intimacy burns sweetly, feeling the enticing sensation of his thickness filling you up every time he pounds into you with rough thrusts. his pelvis collide forcefully against the full skin of your thigh over his leg that your eyes cloud with tears of raw pleasure, buzzing inside.

the constant pounding of his length coated in your slick producing a squelching sound doesn't leave your mind as you come closer and closer to the edge. drowning out a hoarse groan as his warm hand lands on your belly and climbs up your chest to squeeze your breast before interlocking your fingers with his; then you remember the reason, and it makes you go numb from head to toe.

he feels the burning need to hold your hand when he's close.

your skin looks scarlet from the spanking caused by the hand that now holds you tightly while he accelerates the thrusts, getting audibly desperate. his breathing accompanies the sounds that slip from his open mouth as he tries to keep up, deep moans and elongated words leave his lips before he bites it once he sees you guiding his fingers down your clit as you touch yourself. your eyes fluttering and emitting a moan so exquisite that jisung explodes in spasms.

a sharp sensation expands through your body when he lets out the best sound you've ever heard, starting throbbing along with his cock just before he pulls out late and spills his seed on your entrance. you bite your lip feeling the warm cum between your fingers as you massage your sore core.

it's late at midnight when you pass your leg over his chest and gaze at him with crimson cheeks as he stare at the mess. and although his features seem tender to you, his eyes are darkened with pure perversity when he leans over you and make you go on top now.

“wanna stay a little longer?” he smiles lazily as he reaches for a condom, knowing he can't be trusted now. however, it's perhaps the evil and mischievous sparkle in his eyes that tell you that he already had it in mind.

do you seem like a dream now? something as tangible as it is real. or has it all been in his head, like all the times before?

his eyes half-closed with glee lethargy follow the path your lips do when going dangerously down to stimulate his cock with your mouth, and you finally fall into realization. “if you beg...”

between the two brothers, you should've dated jisung instead.

[yanderefarm]

How did ares wedding/proposal go with us

🐀

cw;; violence mentioned, yandere tendencies, murder, hurt/comfort

i think this was the ask that originally had me revealing that you and ares aren't actually married yet. but here's a proposal? kind of. im sure he made you do a big fancy one eventually but!! still.

you have lived with ares for a while now and despite his knack for violence it's been domestic bliss. you go to work, come home, and get adored by your boyfriend. well, boyfriend is a weird term for it. technically you two are boyfriends but somehow ares seemed to have skipped that step. whenever he would introduce himself to people in your life he would call himself your wife and you were his husband. you even got so used to calling him wife you forgot you two weren't actually married.

the only thing that reminded you of your unmarried status was that pretty golden ring around your lover's finger. you were holding his hand, your thumb mindlessly playing with the band while some trashy reality tv show played in the background. you looked at the ring as you started to slide it up his finger.

"....have you ever thought about actually getting married? ..... i mean like to me."

ares turned his head to look at you with confusion. "we're married?"

"no. we're not."

"you're playing with my wedding ring."

"yeah. the wedding ring from your ex husband."

he blinked and then looked down at his hand, his brows furrowed. "oh."

"...so? have you ever thought about marrying me?"

he looked between the ring and your face before smiling softly. "of course I want to marry you. you're my husband."

"but I'm not." you didn't realize just how deeply this was bothering you until you were pouting.

"yes you are."

"no. that stupid... that guy is still your husband. he got you first."

"are you jealous?" ares asked in his flirtatious way, a finger going up to twirl his hair.

"no. i mean... yes but I don't want you to get that way about it. I'm serious."

ares dropped his hand and shifted to face you. "you know I don't care about that man anymore, don't you?"

"i... i guess?" you let out a sigh and looked away from him. "why do you... keep so much stuff that reminds you of him?"

"it doesn't remind me of him." ares reached out and cupped your face in his soft hand, pulling you to look at him again.

you found yourself leaning into his hand. "it's his wedding ring... his heart... you still have some of his clothes."

"i got rid of the hearts like you wanted."

"god, don't say it like that i feel like I'm being unreasonable."

he chuckled. "i want to gouge out the eyes of everyone who looks at you but you're unreasonable?"

you let out a little huff and leaned against his forehead. "maybe we're both unreasonable."

"i don't want you to feel bad, honey bunny. tell me what you need from me and I'll do my best to give you it."

"what if i want to burn down this house with all of his belongings and your ring and run away together?"

"i could arrange that."

you chuckled letting your head fall to his shoulder. "i just... i wish i knew you didn't love him anymore... sometimes i.. i worry you're going to get bored of me, cheat, and kill me."

his fingers ran through your hair coaxing you closer into him until your nose nestled against his neck.

"you're nothing like him. he didn't love me... he was just scared of me all the time. he knew what I was doing and he hated me for it... you would never treat me like that."

"i think most people would be scared of you killing people..."

he pouted. "you're not. you love me."

"yeah because im crazy. and you're crazy."

"I'll never find someone else who loves my crazy like you."

"can i take it off?" you started to slide his ring off as you leaned in for a kiss.

"please. i only want yours. burn away everything. burn him from my skin until only you remain."

you finally caught his lips, his wedding ring discarded somewhere as you began kissing passionately. the next morning you started picking out rings together.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Early Morning Rain | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: An early rainy morning with Wanda

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+, MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 2.5K

Masterlist

Rainy weekend mornings have always held a special place in your heart.  You weren’t sure if it was the allure of spending all day snuggled under the covers or the way the world seemed to stand still under a blanket of grey, but these kinds of days were some of your favorites to wake up to.  This gloomy Sunday was no different except for one minor difference: Wanda Maximoff was in bed next to you.

Wanda was still asleep, the blankest covering her rising and falling as she breathed deeply in the early morning hours.  Her fiery red hair spread over the pillow and cascaded down toward you.

You leaned forward as you brushed Wanda’s hair away from your neck, softly planting a kiss on the porcelain skin that was left exposed.  She remained motionless as your lips lingered above the spot you only just kissed.  Smiling, you gently kissed the same spot again and again.  Wanda sighed deeply as your kisses intensified.  You felt her body stiffen as she stretched her limbs, ever so slowly waking from her slumber.

“Watimeizit?” Wanda mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

“What was that?” you mumbled against the crook of her neck.

“What time is it?” she yawned.

“Early.”

“The boys up?”

“It’s too early for that.”  You wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling yourself into her.  “Far too early.”

“Is it?” 

Her hand teased up your arm.  Slowly.  Gently.  Her fingers brushed over yours, sending a shiver up your spine.  A rush of heat began to wash over you.  You remembered the countless other times you found yourself in this exact situation with Wanda.  You remembered the way your head nestled in the crook of her neck as you relished the afterglow, the quiet gasps as the two of you struggled to stay quiet, the feeling of her hand resting against your stomach as she begged for your release.

“They won’t hear us,” you whispered.  The heat flowed downward, reaching your core.  Wanda’s backside grinded into your pelvis.  Each breath you took felt like it could be your last with the way anticipation bubbled up inside of you.  It was almost painful.  Excruciating.  The wait was killing you.  The thought of being with Wanda nearly drove you to the point of madness no matter how many times you two were together.

As Wanda leaned back to look at you, her eyes ever so enchanting, you finally gave into temptation and kissed her.  A feeling of ecstasy blossomed inside you as your lips touched.  The scent of her vanilla shampoo instantly overwhelmed your senses.  Wanda’s lips were soft and warm, their silky essence captured between your own.  You were tentative at first.  Not wanting to overwhelm yourself with all of Wanda first thing in the morning was a task in and of itself.  She was intoxicating, and the slower and gentler you kissed her the more you found yourself wanting to drown in her.  

Gently, you rolled yourself on top of Wanda, your hand sliding from her midsection up to lightly grasp her cheek as you locked her top lip between yours.  You felt her swallow a soft moan as you bit down on her lip.  Wanda’s arms wrapped around your back as you nestled your legs between hers.  The distance between the two of you lessened, only made completely impossible by the tent of your pajama pants between her legs.  

An involuntary gasp left your lips at the familiar feeling of Wanda’s fingertips tracing down your spine. It filled you with an excruciating desire that only she could quell.

“I like it when you’re like this,” Wanda giggled between kisses.

“Like what?” you teased.  “On top of you?”

“That’s just a bonus.”

“So what do you like then?”

“When you can’t hide how badly you need me.”

Bright red heat flushed over your cheeks.  Wanda embarrassed you and yet simultaneously filled you with even more desire.  There was something about the way she admitted to finding your desire attractive that made her even more desirable.

“What gave it away?”  An not-too-unfamiliar feeling of anxiety caught in your throat as you gazed down into her eyes.  She was so beautiful, something you reminded her of every single day while she felt the years wear on her.  “Is it that obvious?” you asked, rolling your hips ever so slightly into hers.  Wanda groaned at the feeling of your erection grinding into her pelvis.

“I’d say so,” she whispered, kissing you softly as she brought one hand up to cup your cheek and the other down to rest on your hip as you laid atop her.  You stared at one another as your breaths grew erratic, tinged with want and desire.  

“I love you,” you breathed against her lips. “I love you so much.”  You crashed your lips into hers.  There was nothing holding you back from craving each and every inch of her.  

Your kisses became frantic and hungry as your hands explored every inch of each other’s bodies.  You couldn’t help but grin into the kiss as Wanda’s hands tangled in your hair, tugging your soft locks in a way that sent bursts of electricity through each and every nerve in your body.  Wanda gasped at the sensation of your smile against her lips.  Her eyes fluttered open, gazing at you adoringly as she toyed with your hair.  

“Take your shirt off.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?”

“Take your shirt.  Off.”  

You sat up, reaching behind you to pull your shirt up as Wanda helped lift the hem.  She rested her hands on your stomach as you threw the shirt on to the floor behind you, rubbing them ever so slightly up and down.  The closer she got to the waistband of your pants, the more intensely you felt your erection throb against the confines of the fabric.  

“Wanda-”

“Take my shirt off.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?”

“I want you to take my shirt off.”

“Yes ma’am,” you gulped.

Wanda sat up ever so slightly, giving you access to the bottom of her shirt as you pulled it up, exposing her toned midsection and her breasts as she raised her arms up.  You threw the shirt behind you with yours.  Sitting there, on top of her, you gently grabbed her waist and rested your head against hers.

“Why am I so nervous right now?” you whispered.  

“I don’t know.”  You felt Wanda’s laugh against your face.  “First time?” 

“I don’t think so.”

“Been a while?”

“Only if you count two days ago as a while.”

“You love me so much that even the thought of me still makes you nervous?”

“Most likely.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Wanda whispered.  Her hands found their way to your pants, her fingers slinking inside the waistband.  “This is the fun part.”

“Take them off.  Please.”

“Are you asking or are you telling?” “Wanda…”  She snickered as she tugged on the waistband.  You sat up on your knees, allowing her tug pull them down your thighs before you awkwardly kicked them off and on to the floor.  Not wanting to waste much more time, Wanda kicked off her shorts, too.

“Thought I’d save you the effort.”

“How considerate,” you joked.  Wanda had already laid back down on the bed.  Anticipation thrummed in your chest as you laid back down on top of her.  Her hands found your hair again, one of her favorite places, as she looked back up at you adoringly.

“I only do it because I love you.”

You smiled, placing a chaste kiss on her lips as you reached for your cock.  You rubbed your tip between Wanda’s lips.  Her slickness coated you as you teased her most sensitive spot.  Her wetness was audible.  It echoed off the walls.  Quiet.  Loud.  Too much.  Not enough.  God you needed her.  She moaned as you grinded against her clit, stimulating the both of you.  It felt so good, you couldn’t help but keep going.  You wanted to watch her writhe in ecstasy as you touched her in all the right ways over and over and over.  Wanda’s arousal mixed with your own as you held yourself back from making a mess of yourself too soon.

“I love how good that feels,” Wanda moaned, her words chopped as she gasped for air.  “I need you inside me, baby.”

It took the slightest touch to lower yourself down from her clit into Wanda herself.  You groaned loudly, the feeling of fire setting your entire body ablaze.  The pounding in your chest made it hard to breathe, hard to see, hard to think straight, and your forearms burned as you feebly attempted to hold yourself up.

“Oh god,” you whispered, eyes screwed shut in sheer pleasure.  Wanda tugged gently on your hair.  It was her way of reminding you that she was still there.  This was real, this was now, this was happening.

“You’re okay.  You’re okay, sweetheart.”  Her thumb found your cheek, caressing it gently.  “Take your time.  We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Slowly, you rolled your hips into hers, thrusting your length deeper inside her.  In and out, in and out, in and out.  Breaths mixed with moans and gasps, the soft slap of sweat-gleaned skin against skin, the gentle creak of the bed as your weight shifted back and forth all engulfed the two of you as the rain gently splattered against the windows.  

“You don’t seem nervous anymore,” Wanda joked as you continued to fill her entirely.

“I’m not.”

“Then pick up the pace.”

“I thought you said we had all the time in the world.”

“We do,” she replied, half-gasping for breath as she brushed a damp strand of hair out of her face.  “I just want you to go faster.”

“Do you now?” You questioned, rolling your hips only slightly faster.

“Mmhmm.”

“How’s that?”

“Faster.”

“You want me to go faster?”

“God yes.  Please.  Please.  I need you so bad.”  You obliged, not wanting to disappoint as you quickened your pace further.  “Just like that.”

“Is that good?”   

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned.  She squeezed around you, her walls stimulating your entire length.   The bed creaked louder, shaking as you filled Wanda again and again, pulling out halfway before slamming back into her.

The intensity of your movement exhausted you, causing your arms to absolutely give out after a few minutes.  Wanda pulled you close as you collapsed on top of her.  The crook of her neck became your pillow as you nestled your head there.  In and out, in and out.  The familiar coil of release started burning deep in your core.  It was all you could do to kiss and lick and suck her neck as her whines and whimpers got progressively louder the closer she drew to her own release.  

“Wanda,” you murmured against her neck.

“I need you.  I need all of you right now.”

Whatever entity controlled the universe took pity on you in that moment as you found the strength to push yourself up.  Your forehead met hers as every ounce of energy left in your body focused on the release that was dangerously close.

“I’m right here,” you panted.  

“I need you so bad.”

“I’m close,” you groaned.

“Please,” she whined.  “Please, I want you to-”

The coil inside you finally snapped.  You exploded inside her, filling her with burst after burst of your cum.  Waves of pleasure washed over your body.  Involuntary moans erupted from your mouth as your arms gave out from a combination of pleasure and exhaustion.  You crashed on top of Wanda as your hips abruptly snapped into her one, two, three more times.  On your final sharp thrust, Wanda came undone.  

“Oh god!” Wanda’s breathless high pitched scream brought a smile to your lips.  Her walls squeezed you in a jarring rhythmic pattern milking every last drop from you.  She gasped and groaned again and again as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body.

The damp scent of sweat and sex hung in the air as you both gasped for air, sweaty limbs entwined while you remained joined as one.  While you weren’t one for such mushy, romantic thoughts, the idea of being inside Wanda, of being so intimately and vulnerably connected, filled you with a surge of love for the woman who brought so much joy and meaning into your life.

“Hey,” you whispered, your nose lightly brushing hers.  Wanda’s eyes were still screwed shut.  Her hair was plastered to her forehead with beads of sweat, her cheeks flushed with the afterglow of her orgasm.

“Hi,” she whispered back as her eyes unscrewed, though they remained shut.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Can I pull out?”

“Mm-mm.  I like the way you feel.”

“Okay,” you chuckled before kissing the corner of her lip.  “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You don’t hear the boys, do you?  They’re still asleep?”

“It’s 7 am, Wanda.  We’ve still got a few hours if you want to go for round two.”

“I don’t think I can.  I’m not as young as you, remember?  You forget that sometimes.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” you shrugged, trailing your fingers up and down her side as you laid on her.

“I know,” she replied in a small voice.  Wanda gazed up at you with those adoring emerald eyes that made you fall more madly in love with every time you looked at them.  

The two of you stayed in the silence for a while, staring into the depths of each other’s soul.  There was something incredibly comforting about the familiarity of each other and the love that needed no words to fill the space.   

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked after a long while.  Wanda nodded sleepily.  “Okay.”  Groaning, you pushed yourself up off her still-flushed body and pulled your now-soft cock out from inside her.  A thick strand of white gushed out of her and dribbled onto the damp sheets.

“Fuck,” she groaned.  “I love feeling your cum inside me.”

“Watching it come out of you like that was pretty hot,” you sheepishly admitted.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what I think?” “What?”

“I think.” Wanda teased, reaching toward your soft cock that was once again beginning to twitch with desire.  “I think I want you to cum inside me again.”

“What happened to being too old for another go?” you joked.

“You have a bad habit of making me feel young again.  Besides,” she added breathlessly, “I desperately need you to fill me up again, and I need you to tell me how good I feel as it happens.”

You groaned at the feeling of Wanda’s hand closing around your cock.  It would be a long while until that coffee, and it was the most sincere hope that what you were about to do to Wanda wouldn’t wake the boys. 

[black--sun]

His brow furrows when Shiro doesn’t immediately deny that he’s going to be killed. Even though Ichigo started the conversation down this road, he’s come to expect certain things from Shiro—like his inability to accept that someone is capable of getting the better of him. Not denying it sounds too much like acceptance. But then Shiro distracts him and he huffs a soft breath. “You think you had to tell me that? I know you would.” Because he’s atrocious at letting anyone go, never mind someone he’s been in love with for years. “Ghost…sex? I don’t know, I might be—” He blinks and looks over, and then squints and changes his answer. “I guess you’d better not die, because I don’t know what that entails. I’m gonna need some guidelines before I agree. Maybe a demonstration.”

Ichigo scoffs. He’s so tempted to punch Shiro in the arm for being a shit. Or bite him. He gives a dry, “You didn’t sound like you had any doubt five seconds ago.” But Ichigo doesn’t believe him anyway. That quick answer was far too certain. But he waves it off. Shiro looks a little freaked out and that’s not what Ichigo intended. He didn’t intend anything really. “I’m not trying to take it back.” Besides, Shiro let him keep the knife, and he’s far more attached to it these days.

Ichigo narrows his eyes again. “Like I’d give you my work details.” Shiro can put in the leg work to find out himself. He’s more than capable. “I give more exact and detailed information about obscure texts in other languages. Particularly archaic pieces if you really want to know.” He suspects Shiro is just trying to give him a hard time. He does modern stuff too though. “You know exactly what I was in last night.” Shiro mostly, but also Yuu. And now he’s thinking about how perfectly his hands seem to fit around Shiro’s hips.

Shiro sounds like he’s disagreeing, but he just confirms Ichigo’s suspicions and Ichigo snorts. Maybe he should try that. His life might be less boring during the day. Except he’s not entirely sure how to lure someone into a dressing room. Besides Shiro.

It’s pretty hard for Ichigo to argue when he just asked to go through Shiro’s closet and he’s standing in Shiro’s clothes now, he manages it though. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Your regular fashion sense is as good as your drunk and high fashion sense. I’m just using a different tone.” Except it’s not even true, he likes Shiro’s slutty outfits more than could possibly be considered healthy. Shiro’s shirt literally looks like it’s about to fall off. All Ichigo can think about is how much of his shoulder he could get into his mouth.

Ichigo’s brows raise. “Are you coming back here afterward? That seems like a bad idea.” Once the head is off Shiro’s snake, he thinks it’s best to clear out until the writhing stops and Shiro can pick the reins back up. But Shiro is in charge and on top for a reason. He must make the right decisions. Ichigo starts for the garage. “I’ll check your cars.”

"About my- ?" He almost says boyfriend, but stops himself and shrugs. "I dunno. I guess I did. It's hard not to wonder if the cop you're bangin', who clearly knows who the biggest drug dealer in town is, is just being a cop. Under cover or whatever. Maybe it just looked less suspicious to be upfront about it when I asked him if he was a cop. You were worried about that girl in my bathroom, but the cop would be the right way to do it." Shiro's aware of his own weaknesses. A hot guy with that added element of forbidden and dangerous that being a police officer brings certainly got his attention.

He tosses his phone onto the bed after sending Ichigo the lady's contact info. He knows Ichigo would treat her right if he contacts her at all.

That laugh sounds uncomfortable. Part of him wishes they could dispense with the trying they're both doing, the other part of him is grateful for the efforts. "It's true, I been bad at not giving you what you want from the very start." Shirt? But it only takes him a second, because when he moved out of his apartment he found that shirt. He thought about giving it to Renji to give back to Ichigo, but he couldn't quite make himself do it. "That was your favorite?"

He gets his answer the moment Ichigo looks at him. They know each other well enough for him to read Ichigo just fine. It's flattering. Then the verbal answer Ichigo gives is weirdly touching. It's very sweet, and maybe too honest, but he finds himself liking it anyway. If they can't be together, maybe they can at least be on good terms. Even not being partners, he likes Ichigo's company.

He snorts. "Of course I did, I look good in or out of anything." But being put to bed sounds nice. Warm and cozy and comfortable sounds nice. He is tired, mentally at least. He offers up a little half smirk at the reassurance. "Let's get outta here. Where do you wanna go?"

[tubbytarchia]

Genuine question but why do you characterise Scott as toxic and abusive but then turn around and ship smallidarity and draw them all soft, despite Joel being way crueler to Jimmy far more often?

hehehheeh anon guess what

iguanadon stab attack

[stllmnstr]

breathing room

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing. 

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal completely. 

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat. 

Yours, to be exact. 

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us a both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool, in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon, tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. 

He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. 

But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall, but suddenly find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway  as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been burned submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to be told twice.

[rainyinautumn]

alright with wild life ep. 4 coming out soon it's time for me to start talking winner predictions. in order to understand my bet, let's first understand why past winners won—and, for bonus effect, why another player who I think really had a shot ultimately lost.

GRIAN. The traffic crown typically falls on the head of whichever player is most able to bend and break the rules to their advantage. 3rd Life, as the archetypal Life Series with the fewest rules to manipulate, was won by the man who understood (and broke) them best—their inventor. Throughout the series, I think Impulse demonstrated a similar cunning and could have been able to pull off a win. His error was failing to establish trust with his allies in a series that was defined by its faction loyalty.

SCOTT. With the introduction of the Boogeyman, Last Life demanded a winner with a level head. With favorable relationships paving the path to regaining lives, there was very little wiggle room for more aggressive, risk-taking players, making this season favor players with high survivability. Continuing the trend of rule breakers, Scott was the only player to weigh the odds and refuse to act on the Boogeyman curse—which ultimately paid off for him. Similarly calculating and loyal is Etho, who lost this win by aligning himself with a volatile group that failed to lend him the stability Scott had throughout the series.

PEARL. It was so, so much easier to die in Double Life than any other series, and so its winner was the player who proved to be able to survive without a soulmate at all. The thing about Life Series gimmicks is that they are always, always the thing that kills you—as such, refusing to engage with them as intended elevates one's chances of victory. Such is the case with Pearl. Cleo also failed to engage with the Double Life mechanic as intended, but lost (ironically) due to her ability to forgive and the endgame belief that aligning with her soulmate was the wisest move.

MARTYN. Limited Life introduced the ability to live longer by killing, and as such encouraged players to pursue maximal violence with minimal risk through traps (namely, falling TNT minecarts). If playing by these rules led to a win, the victor would have been crowned on Skynet. Instead, Martyn broke the season-long strategy and a few series expectations along the way to opt for an absolutely brutal PvP win, which he pulled off by being the only one crazy enough to try. A good few other risk takers had a solid shot of winning this season—namely Joel. Unlike Martyn, however, Joel was unwilling to gamble with the permanent death of his teammates, and this soft spot led to his demise.

SCAR. On the surface level, Secret Life's gimmick asked its contestants to be good at the game—to be good at keeping their mouths shut, good at following directions, and good at reading other players. The kicker with all of the tasks, however, is that the gimmick is the thing that kills you, and what the tasks actually asked was for players to be bad at the game in one way or another. This made earnest attempts at success by far the most risky path forward (especially once yellow names started being able to guess tasks), and as such, Scar's continually baffling behavior worked in his favor. Similarly incomprehensible, Skizz's playstyle lent itself well to this series—however, he was simply too likable. The secretive nature of the tasks in this season brewed a hostile atmosphere in which trustworthiness made one a threat, and the Heart Foundation painted a target on him that he was unable to shed.

So. Who do I think is winning (and almost winning) Wild Life?

GEM. Of all the players in the Snailpocalypse, Gem was the only one to doggedly refuse to fear and avoid her snail. Wild Life is designed to breed uncertainty and chaos in its players, and her refusal to give in to this makes her a good contender for the crown. However, other players have begun to notice this, which could place her in hot water. My second winner pick is BigB—although more willing to engage with the wildcards, BigB has always thrived in the strange and peculiar, making him less outright afraid of them and putting him in position to potentially rise above them down the line.

[viennacherries]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then rook is taken into the fade by solas.

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

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

and then they're back.

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

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

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

"i do. i know how to feel."

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

"i'm not going anywhere."

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

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

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

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

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

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

i think it's absolutely beautiful.