#its like a pool only way to stop being afraid of it is to just plunge in there

[vinnyvamppp]

Hii, i wanted to ask for a Death goddess reader, who can never die/wishes to, and some Mark variants who are just obsessed with the smuts that they can have... (No Goggles, Shiesty, Viltrumite, Sinister in special)

It can even be romantic a bit, like she sometimes has to die to be able to live/experience the other day and after her death, she comes back but can't remember so Mark is helping her (in the most twisted way possible because no matter what he does, she always comes back to him).

~🤫

"And Still, You Return."

A/N: See, for some reason… this story had me conflicted. Taking a different approach, I decided to make the variants slightly ooc to match the dark romance feel.

Synopsis: Each time you die, the world begins again. You awaken reborn, stripped of memory but not of sensation. And always, they are waiting for you. Four versions of the same man. Four obsessions. Four lovers who each remember what you’ve forgotten—and will do anything to make your body remember them in return. Warnings: Obsession/Possessive Dynamics, Mutual Power Imbalances, Sexual Addiction, Codependency, Mythological Themes, DubCon, Momemory loss, Smut, and Mild Descriptions of Violence (landscape).

(4) Invincible!Variants x Death Goddess!Reader

Word Count: Sigh... Its a series of characters, ya'll know the routine by now. It's LONG.

They say dying feels like falling asleep. For you, it feels like unraveling silk. There’s no pain—at least not the kind you can name. Just a slow sinking, as if your bones are folding into dust and your skin is being kissed by cold air. Your soul detaches like fabric slipping from a shoulder—gentle, even graceful. Almost arousing, in a way that should terrify you, but never does.

You crave that moment now, more than anything. Envy swells in your chest with each dreadful soul that transcends your domain. Because dying is the only time you feel. The world always dims before you leave it—like someone blowing out candles one by one. And then it happens. The fall. The float. The hush.

And then: light. Heat. Breath.

You wake—always somewhere different. Naked or clothed in ruin. Alone or accompanied by the scent of wine and blood and ash. Your memories are gone, scorched into the ether like burnt pages. But your body is not innocent. It flinches at echoes, trembles under shadows. You’re born again with want trapped in your lungs and bruises you don’t recall earning.

And they find you. Or maybe you find them—drawn like a compass needle to the pulse in the dark that never stops calling you. There are always men. Always him. Versions of a face you almost remember—soft eyes, sharp smiles, hands that tremble with need or violence or both.

And they love you in the only language you still understand. Touch. Their mouths. Their skin. Their hunger. They call you love. Goddess. Mine.  And they remind you how it feels to be wanted. They make you feel real again, if only for the moment you’re beneath them—sweat-slick, gasping, sobbing against lips you do not know but remember somewhere deeper than thought. They say it isn’t love. But you know better. It’s something worse. And something more.

Lenless Mark - You wake on soft sheets. Warmth clings to your bare skin, but you don’t know whose bed this is, or why your thighs ache like you've been opened recently—used, again and again. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you, hunched like he’s been there a while. Watching. When he turns, his eyes are red-rimmed. He looks at you like he’s just seen a ghost crawl back into its body.

“Dude, you’re awake,” he breathes, standing slowly. “Fuck… you’re really here.” You flinch as he reaches for you. You don’t know him. But the way your body tightens—anticipation, heat pooling low—it tells you some part of you does.

His hand touches your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll shatter. Then his mouth follows, soft, warm, trembling. “You don’t remember me. Shit, you never do,” he whispers. “But I remember everything.” He kisses you like it hurts not to. His lips press harder, his breath hitching as he drags you under him, your legs parting out of instinct.

His hands are shaking. He murmurs apologies as he pushes the blankets away, as he kisses down your neck and over your chest, as he runs his tongue over your nipple and lets out a choked noise like he’s about to cry. But he keeps going. Its unusual. A man who gratified by you using him to your will, its left in such a pitiful state. His deep smile lines now tainted through trembling lips.

“I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t—fuck, I just need to feel you again. I need to be inside you. You’ll let me right? Doesn’t matter.” He goes down on you like it’s the last time he’ll ever taste you. Moans into your pussy like it’s sacred, like it’s his, and he never forgot the way you sounded when you came. You gasp, thighs twitching, your hips lifting for more—and he takes it. He drags his tongue over your clit, slow at first, then fast and hungry as your gasps rise. He wants you to come fast. He needs to feel it.

“That’s it, babe—god, you still taste the same. I knew you would. You always do.” You come, legs wrapped around his head, and when he finally pulls back, his face is slick and his cock is already out, flushed and leaking, heavy in his fist.

“You don’t remember me,” he says again, voice cracking, lining himself up. “But you’re still wet for me. You still open up the same.”

He slides inside you slowly, thick and aching. His breath catches, forehead pressed to yours, and for a second, it almost feels like love. Like he could stay here, gentle, and pretend this is enough. But then you moan his name—a name you shouldn’t know—and he loses it.

He fucks you deep. Smooth strokes that grow faster, harder, sloppier. His hands dig into your hips like he’s trying to mold you to him. He whispers nonsense—you’re mine, you always come back, dude I missed you so bad—until it becomes a chant. “Dude, you remember. You do. I can feel it.”

You can’t answer. All you can do is arch and cry out, meeting each thrust with mindless need. There’s something inside you—some echo of recognition—rising with every stroke.

He kisses you again when you come around him, clenching so tight he gasps into your mouth. And when he follows, emptying himself inside you with a hoarse sob and a choked chuckle, he doesn’t pull out. He just holds you. “You’ll forget again,” he murmurs. “But your body never does. It always brings you back to me.”

Hooded Mark – You’re in a hallway now—dim, narrow, red light seeping from under the door at the end. You don’t remember how you got here. But the scent—leather, smoke, expensive cologne—hits you like déjà vu.

You knock once. The door swings open. He’s already smiling. That same cocky tilt of the lips that says I knew you'd come back.  The hood's down this time. He wants you to see him. “There you are,” he purrs. “Took you long enough.”

He steps aside, letting you in like it’s your place. And maybe it is. The room feels... familiar. The way his gaze crawls over you definitely does. “You don’t remember me yet, do you?” he asks, voice low as he circles you. “Good. I like it better this way.”

His fingers hook your waistband, tugging you back against him. You feel the hard press of him, already thick and aching through his slacks. His hand slides under your shirt—palm warm, thumb brushing over a nipple that stiffens immediately. “But your body remembers,” he murmurs against your ear. “It always does.”

He kisses your neck slowly, with practiced precision. Nips the skin. Sucks until you gasp. He knows exactly where to bite to make you moan. Then he spins you around, pins you to the door, and kisses you full on the mouth—wet, deep, tongue fucking you until your knees nearly give.

“Say you want me,” he whispers. You hate that you do. But your hands are already in his hair. Your hips grinding against his thigh. He chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”

He strips you fast—rough fingers, greedy grip. He doesn’t just undress you; he takes the clothes from you. Then he drops to his knees and buries his face between your thighs.

His mouth is ruthless. He licks you in long, hungry strokes, tongue flicking your clit just right, moaning like you’re the one devouring him.He fucks you with his mouth until your thighs shake, until you're grabbing his hood for balance. “Every. Single. Time,” he murmurs against your cunt. “I make you come before I even fuck you.”

And when you do—loud, gasping, face flushed against the door—he rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then pulls you onto his lap on the couch. He unzips, thick cock springing free. You barely get your bearings before he sinks you down onto him.

“Just like that. You remember now, don’t you?” You ride him hard, fast—his hands gripping your hips, guiding every thrust. You feel your climax building again, tight and hot and desperate. “Look at you,” he pants, eyes dark with lust. “You come back, you forget, and I still fuck you the same. You’ll never want anyone else. You can’t. I don’t want anyone else, no, not after this.”

You come around him a second time, your walls fluttering so tight it drags a strangled curse from his throat. He holds you there, buried deep, shuddering as he spills inside you. “Every time you forget me,” he says, panting, “I’ll make you remember this. I’ll make your body choose me. Every fucking time.”

He doesn’t kiss you after. He just pulls your head to his chest, and lets the silence settle.

Viltrumite Mark - You wake to rubble. The air is thick with smoke, ozone, and something deeper—metallic, hot.  You're lying in the wreckage of something that must’ve been a home once. You don’t know who you were here. But the ache in your body is wanting… perhaps familiar as you feel a familiar pull. Your body is humming, twitching with the aftershock of want.

You sit up—and there he is. He lands hard on the scorched earth, his boots cracking stone. He’s still panting, shirt torn down the middle, arms dusted with ash and a trail of crimson that’s not his. His gaze is heavy, but reminiscent of sorrow. “You came back.” He says it like an accusation. Like you owe him for the pain of waiting.

He’s in front of you in seconds, grabbing your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. You flinch—but your body doesn’t pull away. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he growls. “Then let me remind you.” He kisses you with teeth. With tongue. With fury. You gasp as his hand fists in your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat.

“You left me again,” he snarls. “You died. Do you know what that does to me?” He lifts you like you weigh nothing, tosses you against the half-collapsed wall, and strips you with a violence that shouldn’t be arousing—but is.

Your nipples harden in the cold air. Your pussy clenches, slick and ready, as if your body knew this was coming. Maybe it did. Maybe it always does. He tears your panties off and drops to his knees, shoving your legs apart like you’re his prize. “Mine,” he mutters, voice shaking. “You’re mine. You were made for me.”

He doesn’t tease. Tongue dragging through your folds, lips sealing over your clit, sucking until your hips jerk, until you scream, until you grind against his face like you’re chasing your own destruction. He doesn’t stop. Not when you beg. Not when your thighs shake. He pins them down and keeps going, licking you until you’re crying his name—his real one, the one you shouldn’t know.

“That’s it,” he grunts, standing up, cock already in his hand, throbbing, flushed. “That’s you. You remember.” He slams into you without warning, it’s deep and brutal. Your back hits the wall, legs locked around him as he fucks you like he’s fighting God. Every thrust is punishment and a plea. He fucks you so hard your breath leaves your lungs. So hard the wall behind you cracks. “This is what brings you back. Not the memories. Not the words. This. My cock inside you. Me making you scream.”

You want to deny it. But your pussy clenches around him. Your body knows. It gives you away.

He doesn’t slow down. His grip bruises. His breath is hot against your ear as he growls every filthy thought he’s had during your absence. “I fucked my hand thinking about you. I wrecked worlds because of you. I killed with your name in my mouth. Just why do you keep leaving me?”

You come hard. The kind of orgasm that shatters you. You scream until your throat goes raw, until your nails rake down his back. And still, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Then he finishes deep, thick spurts filling you as he throws his head back and cries.

When it’s over, he stays buried inside you.

He kisses your temple—shockingly soft—and breathes against your skin like he’s trying to calm himself. “You forget me every time,” he murmurs. “But I’ll fuck myself into your bones. I’ll live there. And you won’t ever get me out.” Sinister Mark -

This time, you wake in luxury. The bed is massive. The sheets are black silk, cool against your naked skin. The scent in the air is intoxicating—roses and spice and something darker, sharper, like a hint of blood in wine.

You sit up slowly. You’re not alone. He’s already waiting, lounging in a velvet chair by the hearth, wineglass in one hand, watching you like a predator watches prey that’s already been caught. “There she is,” he says smoothly, rising with the grace of a practiced host. He approaches with purpose, his voice low, warm, practiced—each word sliding into your ears like velvet over skin. “You’re beautiful when you forget me,” he says, setting the glass aside. “But I admit, I enjoy the moment when your body begins to remember more.”

He sits beside you, so close, but doesn’t touch you yet. Instead, he studies your face. Your lips. Your throat. “Do you feel it yet? That ache? That empty space I usually fill?” His hand moves then—slow, gloved fingers tracing the line of your jaw. Then your collarbone. Then lower. The gloves come off, one finger at a time.

“I remember the way you came last time,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “How wet you got when I said your name. You screamed for me. You bit me. I’ve practiced… over and over on how to make you feel good for when you return.” He removes the rest of your clothes with elegant hands, peeling the silk from your body like he’s unveiling art. Then he lays you back. And worships you.

His tongue moves over your skin in soft, maddening circles. He kisses the insides of your thighs, trailing slow, hot breath until your hips lift and your hands reach for him. He grins. “Still impatient,” he says, voice like satin over steel. “Good.”

He spreads your legs wider, lowers his mouth, and drinks from you like a god accepting sacrifice. He doesn’t rush. He teases. Licks. Circles your clit with slow, wet passes until your thighs tremble, until you beg, until you gasp his name and he stops.

“There. That’s it,” he says, eye twitching as if to fight tears. “You’re remembering, finally. One moan at a time.” He climbs over you then, and the sheer weight of him makes you gasp. His cock is long, thick, flushed at the tip and he knows it drives you crazy. He drags it slowly through your folds, teasing your entrance until you're whimpering, clawing at his back. “Tell me you want me,” he demands. “Even if you don’t remember why. Even if it’s a lie.” You say it. He slides in, inch by inch, and your back arches, mouth falling open as he fills you perfectly. Painfully slow. He kisses your throat as he moves, hips rolling in smooth, deep strokes, like he’s dancing with your body. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “You belong to me,” he whispers. “Even if you forget every word, every touch—I’ll make your body remember. I will etch myself into you.”

You come with his name on your tongue, a trembling, shattered cry. And he watches you the entire time, eyes locked on yours, like he’s memorizing your face. Only then does he let himself go. Moaning softly, biting your shoulder as he pulses inside you, warm and slow and deliberate.

After, he stays inside you. Lets the silence stretch. Then he kisses your temple and strokes your hair like a lover, not a captor. “Sleep,” he whispers. “Tomorrow, we begin again.”

…

You walk across the room naked, unashamed. You move like you’ve done this before. Because you have. A dozen times. A hundred. More. You return and they wait because they need you.

It's not always in the same place. Not always with the same face. But always them. Or some version of them. Always you—soft and open, forgetting everything they did to you... and letting them do it all again.

You feel them under your skin. In the way your nipples harden at a voice you don’t recognize. In the way your pussy clenches when the air shifts. In the way your heart stutters at the sound of a door opening behind you.

You try to tell yourself it’s not real. That none of this matters if you don’t remember. But something inside you is waking. A flicker. No—more. A fire. Why do they all need to fuck me to prove they knew me? Why does it work?

You fall back into the bed with a sigh and close your eyes. The world is quiet. But you know it won’t be for long. You’ll die again. You always do. But now… now you wonder if you’re dying to feel, or if you’re dying just to see them again.

If this is a curse… Why does it keep making you come?

Note: This is my first time indulging in a more dom leaning Mark, my entire world crumbled and rebuilt while writing this. Its painful to see sub Mark leave but damn I loved how creative this request was. Please let me know if I interpreted this incorrectly, I’ll have it fixed!

MasterList ོ༘₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚

[heeluvv]

DREAM.ᐟ

pairing ᝰ.ᐟ idol! park sunghoon x 8th member reader

warnings ᝰ.ᐟ p in v, unprotected sex, dry humping, sub hoon, somnophilia (?), etc.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

sunghoon couldn't take it anymore. the dream he just had—hot, vivid, and so undeniably real—left him breathless, his body still reeling from the lingering sensations. the way your body felt beneath him in that dream, the way your lips parted as you moaned his name—it was too much. he woke up hard, painfully so, his cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching for any kind of relief.

he swallowed thickly, his body running on impulse as he quietly pushed his sheets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. the dorm was silent, the only sound being the faint hum of the air conditioning. he knew this was wrong, knew he shouldn't, but the need gnawed at him, overpowering any rational thought.

each step he took down the dimly lit hallway felt heavier, his pulse hammering in his ears. he reached your door, hesitating only for a second before carefully pushing it open, making sure not to make a sound. and there you were—laying on your bed, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.

your body was sprawled across the mattress, rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. the thin straps of your bra barely clung to your shoulders, the fabric hugging the curves of your chest in a way that made his throat go dry. those skimpy little shorts did nothing to hide the smooth skin of your thighs, and he caught himself staring, his fingers twitching at his sides.

anyone would say it was an inappropriate choice of clothing, especially considering you were the only woman in an all-boy band, but you didn’t seem to care. you never did. and fuck, that only made you even more irresistible to him.

his breath hitched as his eyes raked over your figure, his body reacting instantly. his cock throbbed against the confines of his sweatpants, straining as if it had a mind of its own. he bit his lip, exhaling shakily as his self-control started to slip through his fingers.

god, how was he supposed to hold himself back when you were right there, looking like a goddamn dream?

he moved towards the bed with slow, measured steps, his heart hammering in his chest as the dim glow of the moonlight cast a soft sheen over your sleeping form. his hands trembled slightly as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down his legs until they pooled silently at his feet. now, only his boxers remained, the thin fabric barely doing anything to conceal just how painfully hard he was.

his breath hitched as he crouched down beside the bed, his heated palms hovering over your exposed thighs before finally making contact. the contrast between his warmth and your cool skin sent a shiver up his spine, his fingers instinctively pressing into the soft flesh. he spread your legs just a little more, the motion deliberate yet cautious, as if he were afraid of waking you—though the thrill of that possibility only made him throb even harder.

he carefully climbed over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he caged you beneath him. his face hovered mere inches from yours, close enough for him to feel the soft puffs of your breath against his lips. a quiet, needy whine escaped him before he could stop it, the sheer proximity making his restraint waver.

his hips moved on their own, grinding against your clothed cunt in a slow, desperate rut. even through the layers of fabric, the friction was electric, the heat pooling between you making his entire body tense. his cock twitched violently against the tight confines of his boxer briefs, a strangled groan caught in his throat as he bit down on his lip to muffle it.

fuck, it felt too good. the pressure, the warmth, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours—it was intoxicating. he tried to stay still, tried to hold back, but the sensation was overwhelming. he wanted more. he wanted to feel every inch of you, to press himself against your bare skin, to make that dream he had—so vivid, so fucking good—a reality.

"fuck… y/n…" he whimpered, voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with so much desperation it sent a shiver down his spine. his hips moved faster, the friction between his aching cock and your clothed heat making his head spin. his breath came out in shaky, uneven pants, his body practically trembling above you.

his eyes were squeezed shut, brows knitted together in pure bliss, his parted lips releasing soft, needy gasps. he’d touched himself countless times to the thought of you—late at night, hand wrapped tight around his cock, imagining the way you’d feel beneath him. but this… actually feeling the warmth of your cunt, even through the barrier of thin fabric, ignited something raw, something almost primal within him.

his fingers dug into your hips as he rolled his own against you, desperate for more. the sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt before—hot, suffocating, overwhelming in the best way possible. his cock twitched uncontrollably in his boxers, every movement sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body, making him whimper with every drag of his hips.

beneath him, your body shifted, a quiet noise escaping your lips as you stirred from your sleep. your legs twitched, your hips shifting against his, and the unintentional movement sent another sharp wave of pleasure straight to his core. his breath hitched, his grinding growing sloppier, more erratic.

your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, only to be met with the sight of sunghoon hovering over you—his flushed face twisted in pleasure, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his needy whines filling the silence of the room. even as your groggy mind tried to make sense of the situation, he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.

"y/n…" he moaned again, voice wrecked with desperation, his hips rutting against you like he was already too far gone to stop.

your half-lidded eyes stayed locked on him, watching every little expression that flickered across his face—his furrowed brows, his parted lips, the way his breath came out in shallow, needy gasps. he looked completely lost in the pleasure, his body moving on pure instinct as he continued to grind himself against your clothed cunt, each roll of his hips more desperate than the last.

a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you reached up, your fingers trailing along his flushed skin before pulling him closer. your lips ghosted over his neck, barely brushing against the sensitive skin before you pressed soft, lingering kisses there. his body tensed instantly, a sharp gasp leaving his mouth, but you didn’t stop. you kissed, licked, and nibbled, letting your teeth scrape teasingly against his heated flesh, feeling the way his body shuddered beneath your touch.

"fuck, y/n…" he choked out, voice breaking into a high-pitched whine. his hands clutched onto your waist, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself, but it was useless. the moment your lips latched onto that sweet spot near his collarbone, he let out a shaky moan, his hips bucking against you with even more urgency.

"please… please give me more…" he whimpered, his voice drenched in desperation, in need. his moans were getting louder, more broken, and it only made you more eager to see just how far you could push him.

you hummed against his skin, pulling back just enough to glance at his wrecked expression—his pretty eyes glazed over, his lips trembling as he swallowed down another needy sound. you dragged your nails slowly down his back, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch, before leaning in close again.

"baby… you’re so sensitive," you murmured, amusement laced in your tone. your words sent a visible shiver down his spine, a soft whimper slipping past his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

he was falling apart in your hands, completely at your mercy, and you weren’t about to stop now.

you couldn’t take it anymore. the way sunghoon kept grinding against you, his desperate, needy whimpers filling the air, had your pussy completely soaked, your arousal seeping through the thin fabric of your underwear. every rut of his hips, every twitch of his cock against your clothed heat sent another wave of need surging through your body, making it impossible to hold back any longer.

without a second thought, your hands moved with urgency, fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers and tugging them down in one swift motion. his cock sprang free, thick and leaking, twitching at the sudden exposure. he let out a sharp gasp, his breath hitching when the cool air met his flushed skin. without wasting any time, you slid your own shorts down, tossing them aside as you straddled his lap.

his eyes widened slightly as you pushed him back onto the bed, his body sinking into the mattress as he let out soft, breathless gasps. his flushed chest rose and fell rapidly, his muscles tensing beneath you. the anticipation in his gaze was unmistakable, his pupils blown wide with need as he watched you wrap your fingers around his cock.

"fuck…" he whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. his cock twitched violently in your grip, hot and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him slowly, teasingly. his whole body shuddered at the contact, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips still.

"y/n, please…" he whined, his voice breaking, barely able to keep his eyes open. he was already falling apart, the way your hand worked over his length making him feel like he could lose it at any second.

you smirked, tightening your grip slightly as you pumped him with ease, watching the way his abs tensed with every stroke. "so fucking hard, huh?" you teased, your voice dripping with amusement.

he could only nod frantically, words completely failing him. his lips parted, his breath coming out in shallow, desperate pants as his fingers gripped the sheets beneath him.

"y/n… y/n, please—ahhh!" he nearly screamed as you slammed yourself down onto his cock, fully sheathing him in one swift motion.

his body jolted beneath you, his back arching off the bed as a deep, guttural moan ripped from his throat. your walls clenched around him so perfectly, so tight and warm that it made his head spin. his hands flew to your waist, gripping onto you for dear life as he struggled to keep himself together.

"y/n… please—c-can i c-cum?" he whined, voice trembling as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, his whole body shaking beneath you.

"already?" you taunted, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you kept your movements slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips over his cock in a way that had him trembling beneath you. your hands found their way to the back of his nape, fingers threading through his damp hair before tugging just hard enough to make him gasp.

"hold it," you ordered, your voice firm yet teasing, the authority in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. without another word, you picked up your pace, bouncing on him faster, harder, the lewd sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

"s-shit… y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking as his grip on your waist tightened, fingertips pressing bruises into your skin. his head fell back against the pillow, jaw slack, eyes glassy with desperation. "uh—fuck, no… please…" his words were slurred, broken by ragged moans as he fought to hold himself back, his body betraying him with every needy jerk of his hips.

your walls clenched around him without mercy, squeezing him so deliciously tight that he nearly sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure. he was drowning in the sensation, in the way your heat wrapped around him, in the way you took him so perfectly—like you were made to milk him dry.

the bedroom was filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, your slick coating his cock and making a mess between your thighs. mixed with that were the unrestrained whines and desperate moans spilling from sunghoon’s lips, his voice getting higher, more broken with every bounce of your hips. neither of you cared if the others in the dorm heard—hell, at this point, he was too far gone to even think about anything but you.

"fuck, y/n—please… i can't take it… it’s too much!" he cried out, his body trembling violently beneath you, his cock pulsing inside your heat as he teetered on the edge of release. his fingers dug into your skin, his thighs quivering, his eyes rolling back as he let out a strangled sob of pure pleasure.

"is this what you wanted, baby?" you whispered, voice dripping with teasing sweetness, though even you were struggling to keep it steady. your eyes fluttered shut, your breath hitching as sunghoon drove himself deeper into you, filling you so perfectly it had your head spinning. every thrust was sharp, precise, and desperate, like he was chasing something he could never quite reach.

his whines were relentless, high-pitched and needy, mixing with the deep, broken moans that spilled from his parted lips. fuck, you loved it—the way he sounded so utterly wrecked, the way his body trembled beneath you, the way he fell apart so easily just from being inside you.

but more than anything, you loved the way he looked right now. his pretty eyes were glassy, unfocused, filled with nothing but pure, unfiltered pleasure. his swollen lips quivered with every gasp, every plea, every broken moan that escaped him. and those tears—hot, glistening streaks trailing down his flushed cheeks, slipping down his jaw as his expression twisted in overwhelming bliss.

you reached out, your thumb gently brushing over his damp cheek, catching a tear before pressing your lips to the spot. "you're so fucking good, baby," you praised, your voice a breathy moan against his skin.

his whole body shuddered beneath you at your words, his hands gripping onto your waist as if he’d fall apart completely without you holding him together. "y-y/n…" he whimpered, his voice cracking, his hips stuttering as he tried to keep up with you.

he was gone—completely lost in you, drowning in the way you felt, the way you praised him, the way you took control and ruined him so perfectly.

"fuck, baby… i'm close…" you moaned, your voice breathless and dripping with need as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that intoxicating high. every bounce of your hips had his cock slamming deep into you, the tip kissing that perfect spot over and over again, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. it was heaven—the way he filled you up so completely, stretching you just right, making you feel so fucking good.

sunghoon was a mess beneath you, his body trembling, his grip on your waist tightening as his moans grew more desperate. "fuck! y/n… please, please—" he whimpered, his voice breaking into a cry as his hands dug into your skin, his strength betraying him as he took control for just a moment.

his arms flexed as he lifted you effortlessly, only to slam you back down onto his cock, making you gasp at the sudden intensity. the new angle had him hitting even deeper, his cock dragging along your walls so perfectly it had your vision going white for a second.

he couldn’t take it anymore. the way your walls clenched around him, the way you felt so fucking tight, the way you kept moaning his name—it was all too much. his body tensed beneath you, his back arching off the bed as his hips stuttered in frantic, erratic thrusts.

"ahh—y/n! fuck—!" he cried out, his voice wrecked as he spilled into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you up completely. his whole body shook violently, his cock twitching inside you, buried deep as he rode out his orgasm.

the feeling of him throbbing inside you, of his warmth spreading, pushed you right over the edge. your body locked up, a sharp gasp tearing from your throat as pleasure crashed over you, blinding and all-consuming.

"fuck—sunghoon!" you moaned out as your release hit, your body trembling, your legs shaking as you squirted all over him, your slick drenching his lower stomach, his thighs, his still-hard cock.

he whimpered beneath you, overwhelmed, overstimulated, but completely and utterly addicted to the way you felt.

natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hoped you enjoyed!!

[bless-my-demons]

Rain Soaked Confessions

Paul Lahote x Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 1100

Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

This pain that’s not actually pain.

Not really, because I know what it truly is.

It’s love.

Love that is damn near debilitating.

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

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

Paul.

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

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

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

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

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

I start to panic, no - I’m not ready.

I’m not ready to fall, not again.

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

Not until him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time slows as I just wait.

One heartbeat. Then another.

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

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

Time must’ve stopped.

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

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

My voice is a rugged gasp, “Paul.”

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

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

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

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

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

To us.

[octaneink]

Confessions

Will Lenney x Fem!Reader

Previous: Only the memories Summary : The memory of his forehead kiss replays in her mind, soft and lingering. Did it mean anything? She can’t stop wondering, her thoughts tangled between hope and doubt. Warnings : mentioned death of a relative (breifly mentioned) Notes: Heads up for my fellow lactose intolerant folks, this gets cheesy as FUCK...enjoy 🩷

You wake to the sound of rain tapping against your bedroom window, a steady rhythm that feels almost soothing, if not for the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head. The memory of yesterday plays on a loop behind your eyelids, vivid and unrelenting. His thumb brushing your shoulder, slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid you might shatter under his touch. His quiet patience, sitting there beside you in silence, offering nothing but his presence when words felt too heavy. And then—the press of his lips against your forehead. So soft, so fleeting, it could’ve been a trick of the mind, a figment of your sleep-deprived imagination. But it wasn’t. It was real.

You sit up, the sheets pooling around your waist as your fingers drift to the spot where he’d kissed you. It still tingles, a phantom warmth lingering like a promise you’re too afraid to fully believe in. You press your palm there, as if you could trap the feeling, keep it from fading. Was it just for comfort? The question gnaws at you, relentless. You’d replayed the moment all night, dissecting every glance, every smile, every word he’d said. Did he mean it? Did it mean something? Or was it just Will being Will—kind, thoughtful, always knowing exactly what to do to make you feel better?

You reach for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time and a handful of notifications—none of them from him. Your stomach twists, a mix of disappointment and something else you can’t quite name. You scroll through your messages anyway, half-hoping you’d missed something, but there’s nothing. Just the same group chat with the lads, a meme from James, and a reminder about the shoot today.

You toss your phone onto the bed, running a hand through your hair as a small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips. The rain outside picks up, its gentle rhythm filling the quiet of your flat like a comforting lullaby. You glance at the framed photo on your night stand—the one of you as a child, grinning with your family, so full of joy and innocence. It’s been there since you got it back, a reminder of what you’d almost lost, but also a symbol of how life has a way of bringing things full circle.

For a moment, you let yourself imagine what your grandparents would say if they were here now. You can almost hear their voices, warm and teasing, encouraging you to stop overthinking and just let yourself feel. The photo doesn’t judge you—it feels like it’s rooting for you, a silent cheerleader from the past.

You take a deep breath, the tension in your chest easing slightly as the weight of your thoughts begins to lift. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself hope. Maybe it’s okay to believe that the kiss meant something more, even if it was just a small, fleeting moment. After all, wasn’t it the little things that often meant the most? The way he’d looked at you, his eyes soft and searching, as if he was trying to tell you something words couldn’t quite capture. The way his thumb had brushed your shoulder, steady and reassuring, like an anchor in the storm of your emotions.

“Get it together,” you mutter to yourself, though this time there’s a lightness in your voice, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your feet hitting the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the knots in your shoulders loosen. The rain outside continues its gentle patter, a soothing backdrop to the quiet determination settling over you.

You glance at the photo on your night stand one last time, the child in the frame grinning back at you as if to say, “Go for it.” And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a flicker of excitement, a spark of anticipation for what the day might bring.

You’re reorganising the prop table, the familiar chaos of cables, mics, and random bits of equipment scattered across its surface. The rain outside has slowed to a drizzle, but the sound still filters through the walls, a steady hum that feels almost comforting. You’re lost in the rhythm of sorting—coiling cables, and testing mics—when the door swings open with a soft creak.

Will walks in, hair damp from the rain and slightly out of breath, as if he’d sprinted there. In one hand, he holds two takeaway cups, condensation beading on the sides of one—an iced coffee, you realise, his usual. In the other hand is a steaming cup, the sleeve damp from his grip. He freezes when he sees you, his hand still on the door handle, cheeks flushing pink. For a moment, he just stands there, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. Then he clears his throat, his voice louder than necessary. “Morning.”

“Morning,” you reply, suddenly hyper-aware of the three feet between you. Your heart skips a beat, the memory of his forehead kiss flooding back in vivid detail…again. You force yourself to focus on the prop table, fiddling with a mic to keep your hands busy.

He steps closer, his shoes squeaking faintly on the floor, and thrusts the steaming cup toward you. “Extra shot,” he says, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Figured you… uh… might need it.”

Your fingers brush as you take it, and the brief contact sends a jolt of warmth through you. His gaze flicks to your forehead, lingering for the briefest moment before he looks away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. You can’t help but notice the way his Adam’s apple moves, the way his jaw tightens just slightly, as if he’s holding something back.

“Thanks,” you say, fighting a smile. The coffee smells rich and familiar, and you take a sip, the warmth spreading through you. It’s exactly how you like it. You glance at him, surprised. “How’d you know?”

He shrugs, his lips quirking into a half-smile as he takes a sip of his iced coffee, the straw crinkling slightly. “Lucky guess.”

Before you can respond, the door bursts open again, and James strides in, whistling a tune. He stops mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene—Will standing awkwardly close to you, the coffee in your hand, the faint blush still colouring his cheeks.

“Well, well, well,” James says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “Look at Mr. Thoughtful over here! Where’s my coffee, Will?”

Will rolls his eyes, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his expression. He grabs a sugar packet from the prop table and chucks it at James’ head with surprising accuracy. “Make your own.”

James catches the packet with a grin, holding it up like a trophy. “Oh, I see how it is. Favouritism at its finest.” He waggles his eyebrows at you, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up, James,” Will mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words. He glances at you again, his gaze softening for just a moment before he turns back to the table, pretending to inspect a mic.

You take another sip of your coffee, the warmth settling in your chest. The room feels lighter somehow, the tension from earlier easing into something more comfortable. James starts humming again, louder this time, and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.

Will looks up at the sound, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then James claps his hands, breaking the spell.

“Alright, lovebirds,” he says, grinning. “Let’s get to work.”

Will groans, running a hand through his damp hair, but you catch the way his lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile. You shake your head, turning back to the prop table, but the warmth in your chest stays.

Filming passes in a haze of stolen glances, each one carrying a quiet weight that lingers long after he looks away. It’s not just the way his eyes find yours across the room—though that alone is enough to make your pulse quicken—but the way he seems to gravitate toward you, his presence steady and grounding amidst the usual chaos of the shoot. There’s something in the way his hand lingers on yours for a heartbeat longer than it should when you pass him a prop. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but it’s there—a quiet undercurrent that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

Later, during a lull in filming, you’re adjusting a camera angle when you feel his eyes on you. You look up, and he mouths, “You okay?” His brow is furrowed, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to memorise the answer. You nod, offering a small smile, but the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flip. 

James, of course, notices. He always does. Every time you and Will share a moment, no matter how small, James is there, clutching his chest and fake-swooning. “Oh, the tension!” he declares dramatically, flopping onto a nearby chair. “I can’t take it!”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn. Will just shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, “Prat.”

Ieuan, ever the peacemaker, steps in with the next item for the video—a small, unassuming box—and shoves it into James’ hands. “Here, make yourself useful,” he says, cutting off James’ next quip. James grins, unbothered, and immediately starts inspecting the box like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, holding it up to the camera and narrating in his best documentary voice.

“And here we have… a box,” he says, his tone overly serious. “What secrets does it hold? What mysteries lie within? Stay tuned, folks, because this is about to get epic.”

Will couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head as he turned to face James. You smile, too, though your attention keeps drifting back to Will, the way his shoulders relax when he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

By wrap time, your nerves are frayed. The day has been a whirlwind of emotions—Will’s lingering touches, James’ relentless teasing, the constant awareness of every glance and smile. You’re packing up your things, trying to steady your breathing, when Will appears at your elbow. His sleeve is rolled up to reveal the faint tremor in his forearm, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s standing. You could smell him. 

Is that weird?

You swallow and focus when he speaks. “Walk you out?” he asks, his voice low and a little hesitant, like he’s not sure how you’ll respond.

You look up, your heart skipping a beat at the softness in his eyes. “Sure,” you say, your voice wobbling slightly. You sling your bag over your shoulder, trying to ignore the way your hands shake as you zip it closed.

He nods, stepping back to give you space, but his gaze never leaves yours. The set is quiet now, the crew is already heading out, and the sound of your footsteps echoes in the empty space. You walk side by side, the distance between you shrinking with every step. The rain has stopped, but the air is still damp, the scent of wet pavement mixing with the faint aroma of his cologne.

You glance at him, your pulse quickening when you catch him looking at you. He smiles, a little sheepishly, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. For the first time all day, the tension eases, replaced by a quiet, steady anticipation.

You’re halfway to the tube station when he stops under a flickering streetlamp, the amber light casting a warm glow over his face. His shoulders are tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if he’s trying to steady himself. The rain has stopped, but the air is still damp, the faint scent of wet pavement mingling with the crispness of the night.

“I need to say something,” he blurts, his voice breaking the quiet between you.

Your pulse thrums, a steady rhythm that feels impossibly loud in the stillness. “Okay,” you say softly, turning to face him fully.

He runs a hand over his face, his laugh strained, almost nervous. “The kiss. Yesterday. I didn’t—I mean, I did mean it, but not… not just as your boss, or—or a friend. Christ, I’m rubbish at this.”

You step closer, your shadow merging with his under the flickering light. The space between you feels charged, electric, like the air before a storm. “Try again,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a shaky breath, his eyes locked on yours, searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or courage. “I know this isn’t… professional. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Not just today—for ages.”

The world narrows to his eyes, earnest and a little scared, like he’s baring a part of himself he’s kept hidden for too long. Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the way his words hang in the air between you, fragile and raw.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

He huffs a laugh, his grin lopsided, almost self-deprecating. “James says I’m obvious. …Am I?”

You reach for his hand, your fingers trembling as they brush against his. “Only to everyone but me,” you admit, your voice soft.

His fingers intertwine with yours, warm and sure, like they were always meant to fit there. The contact sends a shiver through you, a quiet reassurance that this is real, that he’s here, that he feels it too.

“And now?” he asks, his voice low, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your eyes again.

You rise onto your toes, your heart roaring in your ears as you close the distance between you. “Now you’re perfect,” you whisper, the words barely out before his free hand cradles your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

The kiss starts soft—a question, a tentative exploration—until you loop your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He responds instantly, his other hand settling at your waist, anchoring you to him. The world falls away, the flickering streetlamp, the distant hum of traffic, the cool night air—none of it matters. There’s only him, the warmth of his lips, the way he smiles against yours, giddy and disbelieving, like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

When you finally part, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours, he whispers, “Took you long enough.”

You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine, and he grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other, the weight of everything unsaid finally lifting.

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch achingly gentle. “You could never ruin this,” he says, his voice steady, certain. “You’re… you’re it for me.”

The words settle over you, warm and grounding, like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. You smile, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

“Good,” you say, your voice teasing now. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

He laughs, the sound rich and full, and pulls you into another kiss, this one slower, deeper, like a promise. The flickering streetlamp above you hums softly, casting golden light over the two of you, as if the universe itself is smiling down on this moment.

The photo of your five-year-old self sits framed on your desk, its edges slightly worn but still vibrant with the joy of that long-ago birthday. It’s nestled now among other frames—your parents’ wedding photo, your grandparents laughing on a sunlit porch, and a new addition: a snapshot of you and Will, taken just last week.

In it, you’re both grinning, his arm slung casually over your shoulders, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

You smile every time you see it, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. It’s not just the note or the photos—it’s the way they tell a story, a quiet reminder of how far you’ve come. The family you thought you’d lost, the love you thought you’d never find again, and the man who somehow managed to give you both.

I hope people like this! And its as sweet as they'd expect! I think it's becoming really obvious that I'm a romantic...😅

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

— melted hearts, and your chest’s so warm.

contents. suguru geto x gn!reader. fluff. tooth-rotting fluff.

★ jiah’s notes. they’re very much in love, if you can’t tell.

“you’re cold.”

it’s not a question, like you’d hoped. just a flat—voiced observation that suguru makes, blank—faced, albeit with a hint of a smirk on his lips. and that one glint in his eye that makes your cheeks flush just a tad more, this time— not from the cold.

(the very same spark in those honeyed pools that tells you i told you so.)

you want to despise it; you really do.

but it doesn’t really help when all he does is smile and shake his head, like you were a child caught stealing cookies at midnight out of bed.

doesn’t really help when all you do is accept it all wordlessly anyway— letting his fingers linger on your icy skin as he softly coos the frost away, warmth seeping into your shivering bones so easily that you wonder if you’re that cold or it’s just his warmth.

(probably the latter, but you don’t exactly want to acknowledge it.)

especially right now.

“silly thing,” suguru murmurs.

(you silently bottle up his voice in your head so you could gulp it down whenever he’s not home.)

“you should’ve worn a scarf, at least,” he huffs, but there’s no malice behind it. just an endless need to take care of you. “wear mine— ah, ah— ” his eyes narrow when he hears your protests, and you go quiet immediately, “no buts. i’m afraid you’re in no position to speak right now, baby.”

(so much for feeling like a kicked puppy.)

you don’t want to throw a tantrum, don’t want to kick about aimlessly and make a fuss out of nothing— you really don’t. it’s just that a little part of you hesitates when you see you’re wearing a scarf and he isn’t.

“but— but you’ll be cold too,” you find yourself stammer, despite yourself.

suguru actually feels his heart stop for a good second.

(what did you say?)

he doesn’t say anything.

he just stares.

you feel your heartbeat pick up its pace a little more, cowering and running away like a deer frightened by just a clatter of stones.

(but then again, his stare seems much more than a stone or two.)

did you say something wrong? is he mad at you for spilling out words that you don’t even know you shouldn’t have said? surely not, suguru isn’t mad at you, no matter what you do. it’s really hard to actually get on his nerves when it came to you. did— did you even say any such thing? or perhaps—

you barely register being pulled forward by your arms, and your face squishes against something.

(warm, you think, your eyes fluttering close against suguru’s chest. grounding.)

you breathe in his scent, marvelling at how blank your mind goes from just catching a whiff of it. like that raging inferno of the trembling voices in your head just now was a distant, fever dream.

(you stick to the thought that it might have been.)

“you’re just so. . . precious, you know that?” you blink, staying still for a moment, not quite registering the crack in his voice as he says it. “silly, silly thing.”

(his silly thing.)

you hum against his chest, idly smoothening out the creases in his overcoat— trying not to think about the way his hands seem to pull you closer, closer, closer still— even if you aren’t looking at him.

“tell you what,” you tilt your head upwards, and suguru’s eyes catch you before you fall into them, “we’ll share.”

(share? that’s a first.)

you probably might’ve said that out loud, because that teasing grin is back on his face— golden cheshire eyes catching the misty sunlight and reflecting it all back on the doubtful little shadows that your moon created.

“don’t sweat it. i’m only saying it because i don’t want to hear you whine—”

“i don’t whine,” you huff out, arms crossing over your chest in childlike petulance, and oh the way your heart stutters when he laughs. laughs such a hearty laugh that you can’t help but succumb to its irresistable pull as well, a muffled giggle escaping you despite yourself.

“of course you don’t,” suguru hums, and you feel him wrapping one end of the cozy wool round your neck, “of course you don’t, darling.”

(he wraps his presence round your ribs while he’s at it too.)

(and you’ve never felt so warm.)

@d3cay1ngst4tic on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.

[rootedinrevisions]

Everything to Me

KINK: Mirror Sex

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (Fingering)

WORD COUNT: 4.4k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

Jake’s been waiting at the airport for what feels like hours, even though your flight only landed a few minutes ago. He’s standing near the arrivals gate, leaning casually against a pillar but fidgeting with his phone, checking the time every few seconds. His excitement to see you is palpable, and when he finally spots you coming down the corridor, everything else fades away. There you are, wheeling your suitcase behind you, looking around for him. The moment your eyes meet, Jake’s grin lights up the entire terminal.

Without hesitation, he bolts toward you, weaving between people, his duffle bag bouncing against his side. The second he’s close enough, you drop your suitcase and run straight into his arms. Jake lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as you hold on tight. It’s like time stops, and the rest of the world disappears. The kiss comes naturally—deep, emotional, and long overdue.

“God, I missed you,” Jake mumbles against your lips before kissing you again. 

His hands hold you firmly against him, like he’s afraid to let go. You pull back just enough to see his face, his eyes filled with nothing but love and relief.

“I missed you too,” you say softly, your forehead resting against his.

He grins again, his signature cocky smile making its appearance, but there’s a tenderness behind it, a vulnerability that only shows up when he’s with you. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”

He reluctantly sets you down, but not before stealing another quick kiss. You gather your things, Jake's arm instantly wrapping around your waist as he guides you toward the exit. The buzz of the airport surrounds you, but you feel nothing but warmth and safety in Jake’s presence. As you walk through the doors to the bright San Diego sunshine, it hits you—you’re finally here, with him, and for the next few days, it’s just the two of you.

* * * *

After collecting your luggage from the airport, you fully expect Jake to take you straight to his place. You’re more than ready for some alone time after the long flight, but instead, Jake flashes you one of his charming grins as he swings your suitcase into the back of his truck.

“So, I figured we’d make a little pit stop before heading home,” he says casually, leaning against the open door as if this is no big deal. “The team’s dying to meet you.”

You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head at him. “The team? I thought we were going home.”

He winks, that mischievous glint in his eyes making your heart skip. “Oh, don’t worry, darlin’. We’ll definitely get some alone time tonight.” He leans in, brushing a kiss to your temple before adding, “I just want to show you off a little first. Promise it’ll only be an hour or two.”

You try to hide your smile, but it’s impossible around Jake. He’s clearly excited for you to meet his squad, and the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to say no. “Alright, fine,” you agree, rolling your eyes playfully. “But you owe me later.”

His grin widens, and he gives you a playful smack on the rear as you hop into the passenger seat. “Deal.”

The Hard Deck is buzzing when you arrive, full of laughter, music, and the clinking of bottles and glasses. As soon as you walk through the door, you feel Jake’s hand slide possessively around your waist, guiding you through the crowd. You’ve been here before on previous trips, but there’s something different about being here with Jake tonight. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you, unable to hide his excitement, or the fact that you’ve both been apart for too long.

Jake spots his crew near the pool tables, and you can already feel the warmth of their welcome before you even get close. Phoenix is the first to greet you, her face breaking into a wide smile as she approaches. “So you’re the girl who’s been keeping Hangman out of trouble,” she teases, offering a quick hug.

Rooster gives you an equally friendly grin, and Bob, though quieter, seems genuinely happy to meet you as well. “It’s about time we got to meet you,” Rooster says, shaking your hand.

Before you can respond, Coyote comes over, clapping Jake on the shoulder. “Good to see you again!” he says, his eyes sparkling with familiarity. “It’s been a while since we were stationed together.”

Jake introduces you to the rest of the group, and it’s not long before you settle in with them. The banter flows easily, and the atmosphere is relaxed. Jake keeps you close, his arm around your shoulders or waist at all times, pulling you in for kisses whenever the mood strikes him. He’s not holding back on the PDA, and honestly, you don’t mind. After months apart, it feels good to be in his arms, to steal these moments together. Between games of pool and darts, Jake’s touch never leaves you, a subtle but constant reminder that he’s missed you.

Every now and then, you catch Phoenix watching you two with a smirk, clearly amused by Jake’s inability to keep his hands off you. “I’ve never seen him like this,” she comments at one point, making you blush. “He’s a lucky guy.”

You smile and squeeze Jake’s hand as he leans down to plant another kiss on your lips. He chuckles softly. “What can I say? I’m not wasting a second.”

The night’s still young, but as Jake promised, he’s got every intention of taking you home soon. For now, though, you’re enjoying the easy camaraderie of his squad and the way Jake keeps making it clear just how happy he is to have you by his side.

After settling in with the team, laughter and conversation fill the air as the night drifts on. You’re still feeling the warmth of Jake’s arm around your waist, his frequent kisses to your temple making you smile.

Eventually, you offer to grab another round of drinks. Jake grins, pressing one more kiss to your cheek as you head toward the bar. As you approach the counter, Penny gives you a welcoming nod, already busy filling orders. You lean against the wooden bar, taking in the lively atmosphere when you notice a woman standing next to you, her eyes lingering on you just a little too long. She’s dressed sharply, her Navy uniform crisp and her expression unreadable. After a moment, she turns toward you with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hey there,” she says, her tone friendly but laced with something sharper. “I’m a friend of Jake’s.”

You return the smile, even if something feels off. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say politely. “I’m just grabbing drinks for us.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

You nod, keeping your tone casual. “I’m in town visiting Jake. Thought I’d surprise him for the weekend.”

There’s a flicker in her expression, something that makes your instincts tingle. She gives you a slow once-over, her gaze subtly scrutinizing. “Oh,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “Didn’t think you’d be his type.”

The words hang in the air, and though she says it lightly, you can feel the slight jab. You pause, keeping your smile, but something twists inside you. “We’ve been together for a while now,” you respond calmly, hoping to let it slide.

She arches an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips as she leans in a little closer. “Really? Because I know Jake doesn’t usually do long-term relationships. Just thought you should know.” Her words are casual, like she’s discussing the weather, but the meaning behind them sinks in like a stone.

You hold her gaze for a moment, feeling the urge to defend what you know about Jake, but instead, you calmly lift your hand and flash the ring on your finger. The diamond catches the light, glinting as you meet her eyes again. 

“I’m not worried about his ability to commit.”

The smirk falters, and for a split second, you see the frustration in her expression before she smooths it over. Before she can say anything else, Penny sets the two beers in front of you, her presence almost a relief.

You smile warmly at Penny, taking the drinks. “Thanks, Penny.”

Without another glance at the woman, you turn and make your way back over to Jake, your mind buzzing. You try to push the encounter out of your head, but the way she said it keeps echoing: Didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but as you walk back to your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, you can’t help but wonder… was she right?

Jake’s smile lights up as he sees you coming back, but you find yourself questioning—why would a man like him want someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? You take a deep breath, willing yourself to shake it off. You’ve been together long enough to know better than to let someone like that get to you.

But the seeds of doubt are planted now, and despite your best efforts, they begin to take root.

As the night wears on, the laughter and warmth of being surrounded by Jake’s friends should be enough to drown out the doubts, but it isn’t. The woman’s words cling to you, refusing to loosen their grip. You try to stay engaged, smiling at Phoenix’s jokes and Rooster’s playful banter, but every time Jake’s arm slips around your waist, or he presses a kiss to your temple, you can’t shake the feeling that maybe… maybe she was right. Why would someone like him choose someone like you when he could have anyone he wanted? Your thoughts spiral, and before you realize it, you’re barely paying attention to the conversation around you. 

Jake notices, squeezing your side and asking if you’re alright. You nod and force a smile, but the unease gnaws at you.

After a while, you can’t take it anymore. Leaning into Jake’s side, you look up at him, your voice a little quieter than usual. “Hey, can we leave?”

Jake turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Already? It’s still early.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep your expression neutral even though your mind is racing. “Yeah, I just… I think I’m ready to go home.”

He watches you for a beat, searching your face for something he can’t quite put his finger on. You know he senses that something’s off, but he doesn’t push. With a nod, he turns to his friends.

“We’re gonna head out,” he announces, slapping Rooster’s back and giving Phoenix a quick hug. There are a few protests, but Jake waves them off with a laugh, making his goodbyes brief.

Soon, he’s leading you out of the bar, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as you make your way to the car. The cool night air does little to settle your swirling thoughts, and by the time you’re both seated, Jake’s watching you carefully again, his hand resting on your thigh as he starts the engine.

The car hums to life, but instead of pulling out right away, he glances over at you.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, laced with concern.

You nod quickly, looking out the window as you respond. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Jake doesn’t buy it. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his eyes still on you as the car pulls onto the road.

“Right,” he says slowly, his tone skeptical. He’s not going to push—he never does when he knows you’re not ready to talk—but you know him well enough to realize he’s not letting it go, either.

The drive back to his place is quiet, the hum of the car and the distant sounds of the city filling the silence between you. Jake’s hand stays on your thigh, his thumb occasionally brushing against your skin, but he doesn’t say anything else.

You keep your gaze fixed out the window, willing yourself to push the doubt aside. Jake loves you—you know that. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. But that woman’s words, the way she looked at you like you weren’t good enough for him, keep echoing in your mind. I didn’t think you’d be his type. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.

By the time you pull into the driveway, your chest feels tight with a mixture of frustration and insecurity. Jake parks the car and turns to you again, but you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt, giving him another quick smile. 

“I’m fine,” you say before he can even ask. “Let’s just go inside.”

He nods, though you know he’s not convinced. He’ll give you your space for now, but you can feel it in the way he’s watching you—he’s going to figure out what’s going on whether you’re ready to tell him or not.

As soon as you step inside Jake’s place, you make a beeline for the bedroom, your mind still reeling from the woman’s comments. You need to shake off this feeling, the doubt gnawing at you, and the only way you know how is to escape into the comfort of Jake’s oversized clothes and familiar warmth.

You peel off your outfit from the night, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought, and grab one of Jake’s t-shirts from the drawer. It’s soft, well-worn, and it smells like him—a mixture of cedarwood and something distinctly Jake. You tug it on, the fabric hanging loose on your frame, and follow it up with a pair of your own sweatpants.

As you’re standing in front of the mirror, running your hands through your hair and trying to make yourself feel more like you again, you feel Jake’s presence behind you. 

You turn, catching sight of him in the doorway, and for a second, everything else melts away. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, slung low on his hips, his arms folded across his chest. His hair’s tousled, and his eyes are soft, but there’s an edge of concern in the way he’s looking at you. He’s watching you closely, trying to read your thoughts without having to ask the question he’s been holding back all night.

“What happened?” he asks gently, his voice low as he finally breaks the silence.

You shrug, attempting to brush it off like it’s nothing. “It’s nothing, Jake. I’m just tired.”

But Jake doesn’t buy it. He never does when you try to sidestep your feelings. He uncrosses his arms and steps into the room, making his way across the small space to stand in front of you. His hand reaches out, gently taking yours, and he pulls you toward him. You feel the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes, his voice so soft and steady that it breaks through your defenses. “I know something’s up. You’ve been off since we left the bar.”

You sigh, feeling your walls start to crumble under his gentle persistence. He’s always been able to get you to open up, even when you don’t want to.

“There was this girl…” you start, hesitating as you glance up at him.

Jake’s brow furrows as he listens, his eyes locked on yours. “A girl?”

You nod. “Yeah, she came up to me at the bar when I was getting drinks. Said she knew you. She introduced herself as your friend.”

The confusion on Jake’s face deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He lets you continue.

“She, uh… she made a comment about me not being your type,” you admit, the words tasting bitter as they leave your lips. “And then she said something about how you don’t really do long-term relationships.”

Jake’s jaw tightens slightly, but his gaze remains soft as he watches you, waiting for more.

“I didn’t let it get to me at first, but the more I thought about it…” you trail off, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Jake. She was looking at me like I wasn’t good enough for you. Like she couldn’t understand what you see in me.”

You’re surprised by how much admitting it stings. Saying it out loud only makes the insecurity feel more real.

Jake’s eyes darken slightly, but not with anger toward you—more like irritation at the situation. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“Babe, you know who she is?” he asks, his voice exasperated but gentle. “She’s been trying to hook up with every Top Gun pilot since she got stationed here. And none of us have taken the bait.”

He steps closer, taking both of your hands in his now, his touch reassuring and steady. “I’ve told her at least a dozen times that I’m not interested. I have you.”

You feel a flicker of relief at his words, but the nagging doubt still lingers.

“She probably just didn’t like that I didn’t give her the attention she wanted,” Jake continues, his thumb brushing the back of your hand. “But trust me, she’s nothing to worry about.”

He pauses, his gaze softening as he reaches for your left hand, lifting it to his lips. He presses a slow, lingering kiss to your engagement ring, the diamond catching the light as he lowers your hand and meets your eyes again.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, his voice sincere and warm. “And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you.”

His words melt the last of the doubt, but it’s the look in his eyes, the absolute certainty and love, that fully quiets the storm in your chest.

Jake smiles, his thumb brushing along your ring finger as he holds your hand between both of his. His voice is warm and full of pride as he murmurs, “You’re beautiful, Mrs. Seresin.”

You manage a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not Mrs. Seresin yet,” you tease. “You still have time to change your mind.”

Jake pauses, his expression softening as he studies your face. Then, he gives you a look of utter disbelief, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes your heart skip.

“Why would I want to do something like that?” he asks softly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ve got the most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, sexy woman on the planet right here. I’d be out of my mind to want anything else.”

He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and then another, as if to drive the words home. When he finally pulls back, he’s still close, his lips hovering just inches from yours as he grins.

“If you don’t believe me,” he murmurs, his voice low, “I’ll take you to the courthouse first thing Monday morning. You can be Mrs. Seresin before noon.”

You laugh, feeling your doubts vanish under the warmth of his gaze, and shake your head again. “Jake, you’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I’m yours,” he says, his tone turning serious, his hand coming up to cradle your face. “You’re all I want. And you’re all I’ll ever want.”

The intensity in his voice leaves no room for doubt. His gaze is so steady, so certain, that you know, without a shadow of a doubt, he means every single word. You feel yourself melt a little more in his arms, and this time, when he leans in, you let yourself fall completely into his kiss.

Jake presses another gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. "Feeling better?" he asks softly, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

You hum a quiet "yes" and nod, leaning into his touch. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, warm and full of that familiar affection that makes your heart flutter.

"Good," he murmurs. 

His hands slowly slide down your sides, slipping under the fabric of the oversized shirt you're wearing. His fingers splay across your bare skin, and you shiver at the warmth of his touch. 

As his hands explore the curves of your body, he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You really are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. Do you know that?"

You get quiet again, your insecurities bubbling up in the silence. Jake’s question lingers in the air, and when you don’t respond, he doesn’t push. Instead, he shifts his approach.

"Maybe I need to show you," he whispers, a mischievous edge to his voice. His hands move with deliberate care, his fingers gripping the hem of the shirt. In one smooth motion, he slides it up and off, leaving your chest and stomach exposed to the cool air of the room. You feel vulnerable, standing there in nothing but your sweatpants, but Jake’s gaze is so tender, so full of reverence, that it quiets the anxious thoughts threatening to rise again.

He tucks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and underwear, pulling them down in one slow motion until they pool at your feet, leaving you completely naked. He turns you gently by the shoulders until you’re facing the mirror above the vanity, the reflection of your bare form standing in front of him.

Jake steps closer, his chest pressing against your back as he pulls you flush against him. His hands settle at your hips, then slide up your stomach and over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent, slow. His eyes meet yours in the reflection, filled with an unwavering adoration that takes your breath away.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your shoulder as his hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your body. He’s not rushed, not hurried—he’s savoring every inch of you, as if to memorize the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

He points to your collarbone, brushing his thumb across the delicate bone. “I love this,” he murmurs. “The way your skin feels soft here, how it catches the light.”

His hands slide lower, tracing the curve of your waist. “And here... the way you fit perfectly in my hands.”

His fingers skim your thighs next, gentle but firm. “The way your legs wrap around me when we’re close,” he says softly, his breath warm against your neck.

Jake continues, his voice low and steady, as he points out every detail he adores, from the curve of your hips to the softness of your stomach, to the way your hair falls over your shoulders. Every word, every caress is full of love, his tone steady as he dismantles your insecurities, piece by piece.

“You’re perfect,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just the way you are.”

His words sink in, slowly dissolving the doubts you’ve carried, and when you meet his eyes again in the mirror, you see what he sees—a woman adored, cherished, and deeply loved. He kisses your neck softly, his lips lingering as he whispers against your skin, “Do you see it now? How beautiful you are?”

You nod quietly, your gaze still locked with his in the mirror. A small, satisfied smile tugs at the corner of Jake’s lips, and you can see the hint of a smirk forming.

"Do you want to know what I find most sexy about you?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

Curiosity flickers in your eyes, and you can’t help but ask, "What is it?"

His smirk widens just a little, and you feel his fingers begin to trail down your stomach, slow and deliberate, until they reach the sensitive spot between your legs. His touch is gentle at first, but enough to send a shiver through you.

His breath tickles your ear as he leans in close, his voice a seductive whisper. “It’s the way you look when I’m making you feel good,” he murmurs, the heat in his words sending a flush through your entire body.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes flutter closed, instinctively leaning back into the warmth of his body. But just as you start to lose yourself in the moment, Jake’s hand pauses, his other arm wrapping firmly around your waist, holding you steady.

“Uh-uh,” he whispers against your ear, his tone commanding but gentle. “Open your eyes, baby.”

Reluctantly, you do as he says, your eyes flicking back open to meet his in the mirror. He shifts his body slightly, positioning himself so you can see every detail of his touch, every reaction your body gives under his fingers.

“Look at how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with adoration.

His hand resumes its slow, deliberate movements, his fingers teasing you in ways that make your breath hitch. But his eyes—those piercing, sea-green eyes—never leave yours in the reflection. You can see the intensity in his gaze, the way he’s watching every little gasp, every shiver you give, as if he’s drawing power from your reactions.

“Do you see it?” Jake’s voice is hushed, his lips brushing your ear. “Do you see how incredible you are when you’re lost in this?”

Your body responds to him before your mind even catches up. A quiet moan escapes your lips, and you press your thighs together, but Jake is relentless in keeping you focused on the mirror, on yourself.

“Don’t look away,” he whispers, his fingers moving with more precision now, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. “I want you to see what I see. How gorgeous you are when you’re like this.”

You bite your lip, your breathing quickening as the pleasure builds, but his steady gaze and firm touch keep you tethered to the moment. There’s something deeply intimate about it, the way he’s not just touching you but guiding you to see yourself through his eyes, with a reverence that makes your heart pound in your chest.

Jake's lips trail soft kisses along the side of your neck, his free hand coming up to cup your breast, adding to the overwhelming sensations running through you. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, and there’s no mistaking the desire and love in his eyes, the way he’s savoring every second of this moment with you.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. “You’re everything, baby. Everything.”

Jake’s touch remains steady and deliberate, each movement sending waves of pleasure surging through you. His fingers move with a slow, practiced rhythm, teasing you closer to the edge. The heat of his body against yours and the intensity of his gaze in the mirror makes the moment even more overwhelming.

As the pleasure builds, your breath becomes shallow, your body instinctively leaning back against him, seeking his warmth and support. His other arm wraps securely around your waist, holding you close, his touch grounding you as the sensations spiral higher. The feel of his fingers on your skin, the soft brush of his lips against your neck, and the way he whispers your name between each pulse of pleasure—it’s all consuming.

“Come on, baby,” Jake murmurs against your ear, his voice low and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your body tenses, the pleasure cresting and crashing over you in a powerful wave. A soft moan escapes your lips, your head falling back against his shoulder as the climax washes through you. Jake holds you close, supporting you as he works you through it, his fingers slowing but never stopping, guiding you down gently from the high.

“There you go,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. His arm tightens around you, keeping you steady as your legs tremble, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless. “That’s my girl.”

His words settle over you like a soft blanket, his quiet pride and possessiveness making your heart swell. You meet his gaze again in the mirror, your chest still rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. He’s watching you with that same adoring look, his eyes soft, but filled with unmistakable love.

Jake presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lingering for a moment before he slowly removes his fingers, letting you relax fully into him. He’s gentle as ever, taking his time as he slides his shirt back over your body, covering your bare skin with the familiar warmth of his scent. Then, with the same care, he pulls your underwear back up, smoothing his hands over your hips as he does.

“There,” he whispers, his voice soft and reassuring. “My girl's all taken care of.”

Before you can say anything, he scoops you into his arms with ease, cradling you against his chest. You can’t help but smile at the feeling of being wrapped up in him, safe and secure.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he says, his voice low and affectionate.

Jake carries you effortlessly across the room, his steps slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment of holding you close. He gently lays you down on the bed, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face before sliding in beside you.

As you curl up against him, his arms wrap around you once more, pulling you into the warmth of his body.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering, “You’re everything to me. You know that, right?”

You nod, the weight of his words settling in your heart, as you relax fully into the comfort of his embrace. The night is quiet, but the connection between you and Jake feels stronger than ever, his love and devotion wrapping around you like a protective shield.

[sodapopwrites]

the first sign of fall chapter four: you said no attachment

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - talking things out seems impossible, so you give up and do exactly what you shouldn't. you, azriel, and eris seem to never be able to find a way to communicate or to tell each other how you feel.

word count - 3.2k

a/n - man. i'm sorry. i love making things go horribly wrong. i swear things will work out at some point, but right now everybody has to be sad and afraid otherwise it's too easy. ALSO thank you to everyone who is showing so much support for this series. like i wish i could buy you all cookies or something.

read the rest of the series here!

You push your way into the locker room slowly. It’s filled with steam, curling its way from the showers, around the lockets, pooling at your feet. Almost like it was reaching you, pulling you towards him. You hear the steady stream of water against tile, broken only by the body under it. He wasn’t facing you. His back taught and head down, letting the scolding water stain his hair darker. 

“Eris?” 

Your voice was wavering and unsure. Your feet moving from side to side, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. He straightened, his head raising, his entire body stiffening. Hackles up. The water turned off. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall next to him and wrapped it around his waist before turning around, towards you, but not looking at you. He traipsed across the room to his bag and started rifling through it for his clothes. His only acknowledgement of you, a small sniff as you sighed. 

“Please talk to me” 

It was the closest thing to begging he’d ever heard from you. Those four words drenched in desperation that was so out of character that his eyes snapped to yours. He shook his head, 

“I don’t have anything to say.” 

You take a deep shuddering breath. Trying to think what he wants from you. Scraping every corner of your mind for the right thing to say. You come up empty. You study his face, the cut on his lip, his forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a garish bruise was starting to form on his cheekbone. You take a tentative step towards him. He doesn’t move an inch, almost as if he’s frozen. A deer in headlights. His eyes don’t leave yours as you draw closer and raise a hand to brush your fingers over the welt now blossoming under his skin. His eyes flutter closed and it takes all of his effort to lean away from your touch instead of into it. 

“Don’t” A small warning. Enough to force you a couple steps back. “I don't think I can do this. I meant it.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Please don’t say that. Please. You want to talk? Let’s talk. You can’t just decide you’re done. There’s two of us in this Eris.” 

“You want to talk? Talk then.” 

He stares at you. His face completely unreadable. Cold in a way that it never had been before. His eyes always sold him away, always carried all of his feelings, like a window straight to his heart. But now, looking at them, you couldn’t see a thing. The only other person who ever managed that kind of mask….was Azriel. 

“I didn’t mean to blame you.” It was a lame response. You knew that. But you continued anyway. “You were hurt, and you'd gotten into a fight with Az, and I was worried, and lashed out.” 

He didn’t say anything. Small droplets of water rolled down his chest. His hair was tousled and damp. The heat of his body contrasting so harshly with the cool air, that small wisps of steam curled from him. It would have been a beautiful sight, if the look on his face didn’t scare you quite as much as it did. 

“Who were you really worried about?” His voice was low and calm. Horrifyingly calm. 

“Both of you.” 

It was an honest answer. Just not the one he wanted to hear. 

“I’m tired. I’m tired of being a second choice. I’m not something you can keep in your backpocket. I l-” 

He shook his head. As if the last couple words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not when he was looking at you, draped in a jersey that wasn’t his, your eyes so desperate and pleading. I love you too much. That’s what he wanted to say. What he couldn’t say. Not when all he could think about was Azriel, and all those unspoken feelings. 

“You’re not.” 

That’s all you could say. Choking down the tears that you wanted to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not like this. You wouldn’t let him see that. It was too pathetic. Too desperate. 

He stared at you. Blankly. Mind reeling. You were on the brink of tears. He could see it plain as day. Just cry. Show some emotion. Any emotion. He wanted to yell it at you. Beg you. At least the tears would prove that this was more than nothing. But you didn’t. You just stood. Like looking at him was the most painful thing you could possibly be doing. 

He thought of Azriel. He had heard the two of you yelling before he had retreated to the showers, hoping that the water would drown out the sound of it. He didn’t want to hear what was being said. Didn’t need to hear more of Azriel’s opinions on him. 

He thought of the way that Azriel had years of history with you. The way he’d seen you cry, something you’d refuse to do in front of him. The way Eris had watched your eyes drift off into some far away thought and had your eyes snap back into focus, on him. Azriel had your embrace in moments of panic, a comfort and a quiet that you floated towards. A solace and hiding place you looked for. You never seemed to grow tired of him the way you grew tired of others. Azriel would have you for lifetimes and Eris didn’t want to be a footnote in that story.

“I just need time to think.” That was all he could think to say before finally pulling a shirt over his head. And turning away from you. 

“I’m scared of what that means.” 

He shook his head. He couldn’t look back at you. One right word from you and he’d cave. He’d give you anything you wanted no matter what it did to him. Your voice hit him again, like a bullet, 

“I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.” 

He pulled his pants on and sat down to lace his shoes. Still refusing to look at you as he said the first thing that came to mind, 

“Well you always have Az to wash away whatever guilt you're feeling. I said it before. I’m done, so why don’t you go cry to him?” 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw your jaw set. The small nod of your head. It was the wrong thing to say. But he was begging you to prove him right. Begging you to do something to prove to him that he wasn’t what you wanted. 

You felt weak. Like your knees were about to buckle. Like every horrible thing you ever thought about yourself was right. It didn’t matter how much you cared about him, you never were able to find a way to make that clear. Could never just say it. Could never really figure it out. But he was right and that was the worst part. You fled from the locker room as quickly as you could while still holding onto a shred of dignity. The tears you had choked down rising like a violent tide. Tearing through your every nerve. Your whole body felt like it was burning, like the loss of him might actually consume you. Alone again. You couldn’t stand it. 

★ ★ ★ 

You shouldn’t have done it. But you weren’t thinking, completely on autopilot as you drove, as you walked up the steps, as your arm raised and knocked on the door. Your eyes still glistening, your cheeks red, and your body shaking lightly as the door opened slowly. 

Azriel. 

His eyes flashed with confusion, his hand going to run through his hair before leaning against the door frame as he took you in. Your jacket is gone. His jersey hanging off you. You looked wrecked. Terrified. So clearly the conversation with Eris didn’t work out and here you were. Like you always were when you lost something. 

“Is Cass home?” 

Your voice was shredded. Hoarse and devastated. The mask of cool collection you usually aimed for completely lost now. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the door slightly more ajar. 

“You want to talk?” 

You sniffled and curled your arms around yourself, “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.” 

“So…What do you want?” 

He knew exactly what you wanted. He just needed to hear it straight from your bitten red and raw lips. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

A whisper. A small admission. Almost a question. 

He held out an arm and you pulled yourself into his embrace too easily. Your arms immediately circling around his neck. He leaned down to pull your legs around his waist and carried you across the threshold. Closing the door behind him. His fingers bruising against your thighs. Like he wanted his fingerprints embedded in your skin forever. His lips never leaving yours as he walked towards his room. As he lowered you to his bed. Only pulling away to peel your clothes off slowly. To press open mouthed kisses against your neck as he let his hands roam. His pace slow and deliberate, as if every small claim of his lips was a victory. 

It was. A small victory. He’d have you for lifetimes, maybe only like this, when he was needed to fill some emptiness inside you. But still. Others would have you for minutes at a time that in their lifespan would boil down to nothing. But he’d have you forever. A small form of revenge. 

He traced every path he thought Eris might have once marked as his own. Neither of you saying a word. Both of you ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Azriel only pausing once to wipe them away with a brief brush of his thumbs and soft shushing from his lips, before he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. The force behind it bruising and almost angry. Like he wanted it to hurt. Like he wanted you to remember that feeling in the morning. Like he wanted you to remember that other men would have your adhd driven drifts of attention, your accolades and commendation. Your fantasies and broken form of love tainted remedies to draw out seconds on a timesheet. Your short term hyperfocus. Your false forms of naive intimacies. Your fleeting fingers through their hair when they bend their heads to you. Your anger when they don’t live up to the image you’ve built in your head. 

You closed your eyes. Letting him take the lead. You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything, but feel him. Because that was the easiest thing you could possibly do. The easiest way to not be alone. 

Azriel reveled in it. Your attention when convenient. Your gaze when you thought he was too lost in his movements against you. The way he could still feel your anger from earlier bubbling under the surface, and the way that it didn’t matter now. The way that you had still come to him. The way that he was always right. The way that the little jersey stunt had worked exactly in his favor. The way he always managed to do exactly what you wanted. The way your nails raked across his shoulder blades and you let out a choked sob. 

He’d let you right to it. Something to be angry about again. The one thing you wanted. The one thing you never wanted Eris to see. The one real thing you were. Angry and afraid. Afraid of everything you had ever felt. 

A small form of revenge. 

He held you close to his chest after. He knew you’d leave. Just like you had done before. Just like you did every time something too intimate, no matter what the scale, happened between the two of you. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You’d stopped crying, but by the way you were breathing he knew you still wanted to. So he held you tighter. 

★ ★ ★

You left while he was still asleep. Seven in the morning. Guilt rippling through your entire body. Eris expected the worst from you, so you did the worst thing you could think of, and it felt good. That was the worst part. You closed Azriel’s door as quietly as you could and turned around, immediately met with Cassian’s hulking form leaning against the wall of the hallways. His arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. Your eyes widened. Since when has he ever woken up this early? 

“Again?” 

You didn’t respond. Heading for the door shaking your head. He stepped in front of you, blocking your exit. 

“Why?” 

His voice was a whisper, but the question hit like he was shouting. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said it. 

“You look like you just had a death in the family or something. That’s not how you should look after hooking up with someone. This is…this fucking sadness that you get from Eris….Even Az can’t fix that.” 

You look at him now. He was wrong. Of course he wanted to blame Eris. Why wouldn’t he? 

“It’s not Eris that made me….” 

You trailed off and Cassian inhaled deeply. Finally getting it. Whatever you and Azriel had going on…hurt you just as much as it hurt him. A mutual form of self destruction. 

“So why did you do it?” 

Azriel’s door opened now. You didn’t hear it. Didn’t notice that Azriel had finally woken up and was watching intently as you responded, 

“Because Azriel….” You push Cassian out of the way and reach for the door, “Eris makes me weak.” 

You close the door behind you and Cassian flinches at the sound of it clicking shut. His eyes looking towards his friend now. Azriel looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eris makes me weak. The only way you could think to say that you were in love with him. The only way you could find to express that the feeling scared you so deeply that you went back to something you, and everyone else, had so adamantly ignored for years. It was almost like falling in love with Azriel and wasting it had turned you into something cold. Something accidentally cruel. 

Cassian sighed and shook his head. The disappointment coming off him in waves. Azriel unsure which one of them that disappointment was really directed at. Cassian watched him, he looked small, and unlike himself. He thought of the years Az had spent chasing whatever had happened between the two of you that one night. Like he was so desperate to prove that he was capable of love. Like having you in any small form would make him better at it, like doing whatever he could to keep you away from other people, and bring you back to him. Would prove that he could love someone. Like letting you in last night and fucking you while you cried was a testament to how much he was willing to ignore. Maybe that was what he thought love was. Ignoring all the bad and taking you anyways, under any condition, nevermind who your heart really called for. 

“You’re just a glutton for punishment aren’t you Az?” 

That was all Cassian said as he turned back to his room and shut the door sharply behind him. Leaving Azriel to stand alone in the morning shadow soaked hall. 

★ ★ ★

Eris’ apartment felt empty. Without your laughter. Without you sitting at his kitchen counter biting your nails and complaining about whatever class was pissing you off at the moment. 

He sat alone in his living room. Your sweater still draped over the back of the chair he crashed into. His eyes falling on the plants you had lined up against his windowsill while muttering something about lifeless male living spaces. The notes you had written him stuck to his fridge. The books you had left scattered across his coffee table. The pair of shoes you placed next to his by the door, shrugging, and saying it’s good to have a spare. Almost every inch of his apartment screamed your name, and begged for your return. 

He remembered the ice in your stare as he told you to run back to Azriel. The kind of cold he could never warm. The set determination of your walk as you strode away from him. He knew exactly where you were right now. He knew that you had done exactly what you told him to, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame you. He should have just talked to you. Should have made it clear to you that he wanted everything. That he was all in. That he didn’t care about the fact that you were scared, he could see it clear as day. He’d seen it since you started seeing each other. The way that you were so terrified that the second you admitted how much he meant to you, he’d leave. 

It wasn’t like you made your affections a secret. You had decorated his apartment. You had spent all of your free time with him. You had held him so tight at night that sometimes he wondered if you thought that if you let go he’d slip away, or fade away. You had given him annotated book’s, highlighting lines you thought he might like. Had sent him playlists and pictures of things throughout the day that reminded you of him. Had wrapped your arms around him lazily and pulled him away from his computer whispering you have to stop being such a workaholic. The closest you let yourself get to exhibiting how much you worried about him. You had made it as clear as you could. 

But he could’t wipe the image of Azriel’s smirk as you had yelled at him what the fuck is wrong with you? Like your outburst was some sort of victory. Like shadowsinger had won. Like getting Eris to fight him was exactly what he had hoped for.

He remembered the way that Azriel went slack under him as they fought, the way he had let Eris throw punch after punch and seemed almost elated as blood spilled from his mouth. Like the blood would stain your hands and force you into remembering what and who really mattered. And maybe it had. 

Eris sighed and stood from his chair. Sleep. He needed sleep. But when he laid eyes on his bed, the sheets rumpled and blankets a mess. He thought of you that morning. Refusing to wake up, quietly calling for him to come back to bed, telling him to stop answering emails and come kiss you awake. The way he’d obliged and reveled in your warmth, and your smell, and the soft graze your fingers across his skin. He should have stopped you from leaving. 

I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.

He should have told you. I love you too much. But he didn’t and now he’d have to suffer the consequences. Maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he thought, this is what happens when he let himself fall in love with someone. When he let his walls down. When he let someone into his space. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@redr0sewrites

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, happy wendsday 🩵

Can we get some more rotted to the core? Please and thank you!

How has everyone been doing? I hope everyones good!

hi! thank you for the well-wishes!!! it's actually been a really shitty week for everyone BUT we're still moving forward! And flowers are blooming and doves are remaking their nests despite all the shit in the world and Malec is still being written so it's all fine.

probably.

i hope you enjoy and are having a good week, because if we're not having a good one then I sure as fuck hope that at least other people are. and if you're also struggling then hopefully overprotective!Magnus will help and Alec going 'oh maybe I need to work on my communication skills'.

<3 lumine

-

rotted at the core

Personally, Magnus thinks he’s doing a rather marvelous job of not letting Alexander see just how rattled he is as he portals them to the loft.

It’s the nonchalance of it all that takes Magnus aback.

As if this were something as simple as someone switching out sugar for salt in a drink, a tasteless but harmless prank.

Instead it's poison.

Someone tried to kill Alexander — just one of many attempts that apparently Magnus hasn't been privy to — and Alexander... he acts as though it is routine.

He didn’t try to hide it, didn’t act as though it were some secret, it’s almost as if he thought Magnus knew. That Magnus was already aware of a threat and let its existence continue.

“How long has this been happening?” Magnus is proud of the way his voice is calm, collected even as he flicks his fingers.  The magic he activates will be invisible, but he knows that Alexander is so closely adapted to the loft that he’ll notice soon enough.  Ice clinks against glass as summons it without breaking his stride to the drink cart, pouring himself several fingers of whiskey and draining it before refilling.

“Since Aldertree and my demotion.  It stopped for a little while when I got my position back but restarted as soon as Valentine died.  It hasn’t stopped since.” Alexander hasn’t moved and is watching him carefully, cautiously as if he’s suddenly wary of Magnus’ reaction.

Magnus scoffs into his drink.

As if now is the time to withhold information.

“Magnus—”

“Darling, I will stop you right there.  If you think for a second we’re continuing our night out, or that you’re going back to the Institute before we thoroughly discuss this.  Then I’m afraid you’re in for a rather rude awakening.” Magnus sets the now empty glass down, feeling as though the sharp, biting taste of the alcohol has finally woken him up.

“I’ve sealed off the loft, Alexander. The next time you leave here, it will be completely enshrouded and guarded by my protection, are we clear?”

—

Alec feels... well he’s not really sure what he feels.

It’s like finding a full moon on what you thought was a moonless night.  A sliver of light turning into a pool of comfort and creating overlapping shadows to wait in.

“I thought you knew.” He says it gently but by the stiffening of Magnus’ shoulders, he’s not delicate enough. “Magnus, I didn’t hide it on purpose.” 

That much is important for his love to know.  

For Magnus to understand that Alec would have never kept such a thing hidden, though he feels a bit of guilt at the realization that of course Magnus would have never kept quiet if he’d known. Alec supposes he should have known better, but also it was a confusing time and he’s still trying to catch his breath after the events of only half a year. He’d thought Magnus was letting him handle it on his own, considering it was shadowhunter politics and Magnus had certainly been pulled into more than enough of those recently.

It’s easy to cross the room and wrap his arms around Magnus.  He’s stiff at first, unyielding to Alec’s affection even as Alec nuzzles into his neck and presses gentle kisses to the skin of his jaw. 

“I’m safe enough. My room hasn’t been breached since Aldertree left. I haven’t given the new sequence of locking runes to anyone either.”  

It’s a mistake.

Alec knows it’s a mistake to say as soon as the words pass his lips.  

Magnus is normally hot, warm to such a degree that even asleep Alec finds himself drawn to the heat he constantly exudes.

It’s nearly sweltering now, the invisible fire of wrath that coats Magnus like a cloak and threatens to blister Alec’s skin.

Except it doesn’t.

It won’t hurt him no matter how angry Magnus is and it’s proven when he turns, clothes sparking small embers and the way his hands — fiery hot but not burning — cup Alec face.

“Alexander—” Magnus breathes out his name like Alec is his oxygen and Alec feels the weight of Magnus’ anger — barely contained — in the heavy, possessive caress of his name whispered on a wisp of smoke.  Twin moons of unglamoured molten gold captivate him, just the same as the first time he saw them, “I suggest you distract me. Before I lose what little control on my temper I have left.”

It’s a joy to kiss Magnus, no matter the situation and Alec can’t help but learn forward, eagerly surrendering to the heat of Magnus’ mouth and the scorching claim of his lips.

—

Magnus: .... you need a lesson in self-worth and preservation. again.

Alec: can’t it just be a lesson on how much i mean to you? That would be more effective i feel like 

Magnus: no. it’s going to be both. For my own sanity and your continued existence as a HOTI rather than just my partner.

Alec: okay but please remember you cannot put magical traps in my Institute. 

Magnus: no but i can booby trap you — opens dimensional space with all of his protective enchantments and artifacts and rituals— shall we get started?

—

Also Magnus: alexander if you don’t distract me i’m going to start another war after the last one barely finished.

Alec already puckered up ready for smooches: .... was this not the planned outcome?

Magnus: i was going to start with a conversation but i’m too pissed off. Fucking you should even me back out

Alec who is just relieved to delay the conversation: okay sometimes mistakes lead good places

-

alec really did think he told Magnus okay, but like there was a lot going on during that time and he also could have said it offhandedly enough that Magnus didn't realize he was being serious/actually commenting on something that happened etc. it's a small miscommunication that turned out bigger than expected (Alec really later looking back and going 'oh... yeah it checks out that he didn't know before now. his response now makes sense actually'.

Magnus: ... if Alec is going to be unreachable in his room then he should just be unreachable in my room. except later, because right now i'll destroy anything I touch that isn't Alexander.

Alec: ... uh huh. yup. destroys anything that isn't me. wow this is hot and i'm not talking about temperature.

[ganondoodle]

can you tell us more ab shargon’s kids?? :0

(sorry for the ... very rough sketch and probably unreadable text, struggeling alot with art atm ... still ..)

Thank you for asking!

Shargon has two young children, Jyothi and Tyura (forgive the weird names, made them when i was young and they are too ingrained now to change ..)

(Shargon is a single parent; demons do not have a gender/only one, all of them have the ability to bear children with an organ that sits right beneath the demonic heart, they also do not need a partner, they can just decide to have a child and trigger the process- while carrying they cannot shapeshift since an unborn demon cannot go along with that- genetics are usually not a problem since demons generally draw from a huge gene pool dating back eons; if they have a partner they will have to exchange some heartblood for the child to be a mix of both; growing a child is very energy draining and when carrying its not unusual for a demon to resort to consuming food, which they typically dont need to do; maintaining a certain energy level is very important since otherwise the risk of deformities in the child increases alot; a newborn demon (birth occurs through the mouth) has a few baby teeth with which to bite its parent/caretaker and feed on their demonic blood, it is not a requirement but many do since it accelerates their growth and can even out energy imbalances)

Jyothi, comparable to a 13 year old human, is a rather healthy young demon with alot of skill using elemental magic (wind in her case), which is why shes being taught by Lord Eadrya; Eadrya wants Shargon dead and regularly attacks him and although both of his children inherited his unnatural and hated/feared eye color, Jyothi stood up to Eadrya not knowing who they were at the time (and thus not their status and reputation) since Shargon lives extremely isolated- and even challenged them to a fight showing so much character and skill that Eadrya saw past her heritage and offered to teach her

The two get along well and she often sneaks away to find them bc she is so eager to learn and spend time with such a powerful and careless demon that everyone respects ... unlike her parent, who is weak, riddled with anxiety and hated by everyone, she still loves him of course, but the more time she spends away the more she adopts the way the other demons think and speak of Shargon

Shargon hates that she goes to them so much, mostly bc he is afraid they, and especially Eadrya, will hurt her or stop her from returning home, even with her special status bc of her talents, she still is his child after all; he does not and could not force her to not go though (a benefit is that she has been the only one besides Thor (Eadryas best friend) able to stop Eadrya from literally killing Shargon, as much as they are horrible to him, they do care alot for her)

(Jyothi has only started to grow her horns and her markings and colors will shift alot as she grows, as is typical for young demons)

Tyura, comparable to a 6 year old human, is much more like Shargon himself, very fearful and skitters away if theres anything they are unsure of, they are of the same elemental type as Shargon (lightning) but thus far has never used it beyond weak defensive shocks; they are also mute and have a deformed left hand likely bc Shargon was attacked and hunted for a long time while carrying them, thus not able to provide a stable energy level the other demons know of them but any attempt to get close to them has been prevented either by Shargon himself or .. Tyura fleeing and hiding (their body structure is also rather similar, the round shape is largely just fluffy feathers)

when Shargon is in the human world his children tend to stay with the only other demon he can trust (Ceryrion, an earth elemental and the chillest guy you can imagine), they dont like him much but love children and will happily go about their day while a little Tyura clings onto their back (though Tyura will absolutely dive back to Shargon whenever they notice his presence) both kids have been to the human world before but since it is very uncomfortable to be in as a demon he has only done so for them to meet Mori (Shargons human friend that lives .. illegally .. at the gates to the demon world) and avoided bringing them there otherwise

the time he is away has notably increased alot after accepting the deal with Zaphira (being her bodyguard .... 24 hours a day .. granted she did not know he had children, and also didnt know anything about demons but that she could use him to solve her problems)

here i go rambling again, i hope that gave you a bit of an idea of them ;O;

[tbgblr2]

Cruising to a new life - Part 9

Amazingly, with all the effort she was putting in, Adriana didn’t seem to get tired or lose motivation. She had 3 more pushes from the position she was in, though each resulted in the head retreating once more.

“This active part of labour” she was cut short with a yell, stopping momentarily “can be a very positive experience for the mother.” Once more she made a noise which could only be destined as a yell-grunt. “As you actively push, you feel empowered to be directing your energies towards something positive – COME OUT!” She screamed the last words, her eyes closing and her head pressing down into her chest. She clamped her feet down and grabbed the sides of the tub so hard as she pushed, back in the auditorium we could almost be certain she was going to lift herself out of the water.

At the end of that show though, once again we had the same result. Adriana gulping for air and panting, her chest and belly bobbing around so much they were sloshing the water of the pool, and between her legs, a glimpse – admittedly getting bigger each time, but still vanishing – of the head then suddenly nothing again.

Miguel was just finishing up with Jess, checking over the delivery of her placenta and getting her and the baby wrapped up warm when he shouted over “try changing positions, might help get things moving. Gravity always helps.”

Adriana acknowledged with a nod as she scrambled around in the tub into a type of sumo squat, her hands gripped on the edges with her back arched so much that her vagina was actually out of the water.

“I can’t stay like this for long, my back hurts, I need it submerged. Charles can you use the roller on my back.” She sounded a little anguished as the need to push was back upon her and she let out a low groan. Charles brought a spiky roller and reached over the edge of the tub to press it into the small of Adriana’s back, whereupon her moan turned to a different pitch, something a little more euphoric.

The mention of back pain caused Miguel to pause for a fleeting moment. I’m not sure if anyone else noticed but I caught it out of the corner of my eye as he just stopped all activity for half a second then resumed his work placing a hat on Jess’s baby’s heard. The baby itself was being a model pupil, has latched on for its first feed, and Jess was lying back in a sleepy haze enjoying the flood of endorphins which come in the immediate postpartum moments.

Miguel made sure she was content before turning his full attention back to Adriana. Our viewpoint had changed in the few moments between as the camera man moved around the tub to get as good a glimpse of the head as he could, though with Charles in the way the majority of it was blocked.

Her push had escalated once more to a yelling scream, her hands white-knuckled on the edge of the tub. “Wide hips, give the baby room” shouted Miguel, and Adriana squatted deeper for the rest of the contraction until finally she released the edge of the tub and slumped back down with a splash.

As the cameraman moved his position we saw no change between her legs. We heard people muttering and saying consoling words in the auditorium, mothers with their own children already born, knowing exactly what the poor woman was going through.

“I need the gas and air again” came a now weakened voice from Adriana. Things were clearly starting to take their toll. “It’s just so painful. It’s not between my legs either… my back, my back…” she took a big gulp of the mixture as the mouthpiece was offered to her.

“Adi, I think your baby might be pressing against your spine, which is why it hurts there so much. I’m afraid if you want to stay natural, all you can do is to push through it. I wish there was some magic button I could press to make it all go away, but there isn’t. You just have to tough it out sis.” Miguel’s words weren’t exactly sugar coated that’s for sure, but it seemed that even those few words were a bit of a good luck charm as on the next push something miraculous happened.

The next contraction had Adriana muttering to herself, her voice inaudible to the camera. As the contraction continued, her voice became louder and louder. About 10 seconds into the contraction, we finally heard her speaking. Myself and Jodie were caught looking at each other in confused disbelief when we realised the words coming out from Adriana’s mouth - “Hokey… Kokey. Hokey… Kokey… Hokey FUCKING KOKEY!” she was screaming by the end. Her teeth were almost clenched in a snarl.

Charles reacted by holding her tight. He seemed to be consoling Adriana, his head pressed in close to her, whispering in her ear. We couldn’t hear what he said, but Adriana was lost to the force of the contraction. We weren’t even sure if she could hear what Charles was attempting to say to her in her blind reaction to what her body was doing to her. Jodie’s hand went to her mouth when she realised. “Shit… we just learned what Adriana’s BDSM safeword is… looks like these two play dirty in the bedroom. Sorry babe… looks like there's no stopping this one.”

Adriana pushed once more, her efforts yelling and screaming as she did so many times before, Charles in position behind her taking the full brunt of her squeezing hands against his, Miguel and the camera man between her legs at the front. As the aftermath of the push played out and Adriana was once more left panting, the auditorium collectively held its breath – the top of the baby’s head remained visible. Miguel was the first to congratulate Adriana on the progress, but it was Jess who shouted up next.

“Yeah, go boss lady go! There’s a room full of people over on the other side of the ship cheering you on right now.” The auditorium actually erupted in cheers. It was good natured chaos in there, babies screaming after the sudden shock of the noise and both new mothers and mothers to be both giving their thoughts on the situation. The next push came, and yes, more progress. The anticipation in the room was electric. Adriana’s efforts actually seemed to be more focused with less telling involved.

Though clear progress was being made, Adriana was very vocal about it. Each push came with shrieks and yells, even some desperate pleas from the birthing mother for the baby to come out. Jodie gripped my hand tight watching this all play out on a massive screen, perhaps given the unique nature of this being a cinema screen I may have been guilty of – just for a moment – thinking this was some sort of Hollywood blockbuster dramatic scene until realisation dawned again that the woman suffering on screen was someone I had only been talking to yesterday.

I heard someone off to the side of me sounding in a bit of a panic. “I really don’t think I can watch her rip open on the big screen I really hope she gets the head out without hurting herself” and quite frankly the thought of that prior to her saying it hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’ve got to admit blood didn’t bother me, but even then, watching a vagina bigger than my head tear isn’t something I really felt like seeing.

As the head kept on moving tiny millimetre by tiny millimetre through each push, I found myself holding my breath. Miguel announced that Adriana was now at the widest point, could likely feel the ring of fire. It was met with a screaming “I know!” by the lady in the tub.

Adriana asked Charles to grab her under her arms between the next contraction and suddenly she stamped her feet down, pushing herself up out of the tub with the force. She thrusted upwards to an almost standing position whilst bellowing out the loudest scream yet, relying purely on Charles strength to keep her up.

As she surged upwards, she pushed downwards and suddenly there it was, a head between her legs – facing us. The baby was posterior, and that’s the reason why she had been having such a rough time with labour.

The water poured down, draining from her body and between her legs as Miguel dashed around. Adriana sagged, almost pulling Charles down with her, but he held tight to counterbalance, still not fully grasping what had happened as his view down was obstructed by Adriana’s body.

The auditorium went silent in the moment, it seemed to last forever though it was only a split second. Soon the babies cried, the gasps and cheers were heard and people started to clap. As if on cue, Adriana actually remembered to breathe herself, her eyes wide with shock. Miguel plunged into the pool up to his knees as he then kneeled down between Adriana’s legs, hands poised around the hanging head to catch if needed.

Adriana suddenly realised that something had changed. The crippling pain that she had been dealing with due to the posterior baby had ended and she actually felt elated. She was ready for this whole ordeal to be over. Dropping a had down between her legs, she felt the baby for the first time. She slowly ran her hands over its little nose and face. It was her baby… her and Charles’s baby. “Baby… we have a baby…” she was babbling at this point.

“Nearly there baby… your work is nearly done” came Charles from behind her.

“Charles… squeeze!” the command was sudden, and a little unexpected to all of us in the auditorium. Charles knew exactly what to do though when asked, as his hands slipped to a loose grip on Adriana’s body and snaked around to cup her breasts. He took her nipples pinched between his fingers and tugged on them. Adriana groaned as she dropped down lower and lower, the babys head skimming the top of the pool water, Charles and Miguel following in their respective positions.

It took one strong, loud push and suddenly the baby was in Miguel’s hands and being held as Adriana was slowly lowered back down into the water to rest. The baby was passed to her, and tears flowed freely from her eyes. Charles couldn’t help but join in as well. He looked up to the camera and announced to the auditorium. “Ladies and gentlemen, please meet my son. I hope you’ll permit us the opportunity to relax together as a family. I’ll be out tomorrow to show him off to our fellow passengers. Thank you for joining us on this journey.”

With that the screen faded to black as the stream cut out and was replaced with a company logo on the big screen in front of us.

I turned to Jodie as the couple fussed around the newborn on screen. “Looks like she got done in time for tea” I grinned.

Jodie looked at me, slightly worried. “I think we better put thoughts of tea to one side” her hand rubbing her belly. I must have turned white.

“Do you mean you’re having the baby?” Even I could sense the note of panic in my voice. I knew we’d been hoping for this for days, but after just watching 2 babies being born it felt a bit strange thinking it had to happen all over again.”

“No silly,” Jodie actually burst out laughing, the moment having its desired effect, “I’ve had so many snacks, I couldn’t eat a thing… well maybe some ice cream.”

[crazyunsexycool]

The sun ☀️, the moon 🌙, and the stars ✨

Chapter 11: heat of the moment

Pairing: alpha!steve Rogers x alpha!sam Wilson x alpha!bucky Barnes x omega!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warning: smut! All the smut… I don’t think I’ve ever written so much smut for one chapter! Heat, ruts, claiming, biting, bond marks little tiny bit of insecure reader at the end. Some oral (f receiving), tiny bit of choking (you’ll see),

A/N:I’m surprised wrote this so quickly but I had been thinking about this chapter for a while. As always let me know your thoughts, I appreciate the reblogs and comments it hyped me up to write more.

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“My heat?”

“Yeah sunshine. It makes sense we’ve been around each other nonstop for the last week and a half. It was bound to happen.”

“But it didn’t feel so-so bad last time.” You whined.

“Possibly because you’ve been with the three of us constantly.” Sam says. “What do you want to do, sunshine? We can get Bruce here to help get rid of the symptoms or…”

“Or what?”

“We could help you through it. But it’s your choice if we claim you or not.” Steve says.

“Would you want to?” Your voice was small and you were afraid that they’d say no.

“Of course we do, you’re our best girl.” Bucky speaks up.

“I’d like that. To have your marks, all three of you.” You said before groaning when you felt more slick forming between your legs. It didn’t help that their scents were stronger now, this was just your body’s way of reacting to them.

“Ok, sweetheart. Everything is your choice, we’ll do what you want. Who do you want first?”

You looked at the three of them wide eyed.

“Sunshine, you’re ok. You’re safe with us. Just say the word and we’ll stop ok?”

You nodded, your brain foggy and thinking about only one thing.

“Use your words baby.”

“What I say goes.”

“Good girl.” Sam purrs out as he sat down in the nest you’d built.

Before Steve and Bucky left you and Sam, you practically demanded their shirts to add to the nest. Their scents helped soothe you. Any of them would have been a good choice as your first but Sam had been the one you connected with first. He had eased your worries about being in a relationship not only with an alpha but with the three of them. It would only make sense that as your hindbrain took over that you’d seek that same comfort in this part of the relationship.

“Tell me what you want, omega?”

“You. I want you alpha.” You whined as you straddled his thick thighs.

Sam didn’t stop you when you played with the hem of his t-shirt and then pulled it over his head. You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times and you’ve even had a few make out sessions that also ended with him shirtless but this was different. Sam placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer before crashing his lips into yours. He only pulls away to take off your shirt and then his lips are on your neck and chest until he takes your nipple in his mouth. Your hips jerk forward as a reaction to his ministrations. Especially when his hand finds its place between your thighs and is expertly teasing your clit.

“Sam please.”

“I’ve got you. I’m gonna make you feel good.” He murmured against your skin.

Without warning he ripped the leggings you were wearing. Which was a good thing because you felt like you were burning up.

“Is all this for me?” Sam said with a cocky smirk as he felt the wetness that pooled between your legs.

“Alpha, please. Need you.”

“So pretty when you beg, omega.”

Sam moved you back slightly, enough to pull down his sweats. At any other moment you would have realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear but right now you were more interested in getting some sort of relief. Your attention was on his hardened length and instinctively you wrapped your hand around it and began to move it up and down. You preened when he moaned out your name.

“Y/N, are you sure you want this? Do you want me to claim you?” He asked one more time before he completely lost himself. You couldn’t tell yet but his rut was being triggered just by your heightened scent alone.

“Yes alpha. Want your mark and your knot.”

Sam growled at that and then an arm wrapped around you, pulling you up so that he could line himself up with your entrance. Your breath hitched as you lowered yourself onto him. You had been with a beta once but he didn’t compare to Sam. Sam was bigger, you were sure they would all be. The stretch was a bit uncomfortable at the beginning. He was gently running his hands up and down your thighs to keep you grounded and kissing your neck and chest to distract you. Once you were fully seated and you had a chance to get used to him, he cursed under his breath.

“Are you good, sunshine?”

“Mhm.”

“Take your time baby, I’m all yours. It’s just us, nothing else matters.” Sam smiles up at you as his hands move to your hips.

But you couldn’t wait anymore and you rolled your hips. You moaned as you did it once and a second time. Sam helps you build a steady rhythm by guiding your hips. Soon that isn’t enough and your hands are on his shoulders as you start to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck ‘mega. Feel so good, taking me so well.” Sam mutters. The grip he has on your hips tightens as he starts to take control. It causes more slick to drip from your center and you whine. “Make a mess on my cock ‘mega. Just like that.”

“Alpha, please.” You beg. “W-wanna cum.” You were right there on the edge of bliss but you needed a small push.

His scent was intoxicating, the way Sam held you close was comforting but it was the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world that made you throw your head back. Giving him easy access so that he could claim you. Sam shifted under you a bit, planting his feet firmly and thrusting up into you. That was all you needed as he hit your g-spot over and over again. It was sudden the wave of pure bliss crashed over you. Sam nearly growled as you clenched around him. Then you felt his teeth break skin but there was no pain, not when he helped you through your orgasm.

You were panting and resting your forehead against his shoulder while he rolled his hips a few more times before his knot locked you into place. He guided you to his neck, urged you to claim him just as he had you and you did it happily and he came with a grunt of your name.

The bond snapped into place and you’d never felt so alive or connected to anyone before.

“So good for me ‘mega.” Sam said softly as he pulled a blanket over you. He kissed your temple. You wanted to say something but you were so tired, your eyelids felt heavy. “It’s ok. Just rest.”

Without a worry in the world you relaxed against him and closed your eyes.

****

“Sam?” You called out as you woke up, worried he had left you.

“I’m right here sunshine.” He poked his head out from the bathroom and smiled at you.

Warmth spread through your chest as you made eye contact and your hand flew to your neck. There you found his mark on you and his smile brightened even more.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good. Great actually but…”

“But?”

“A little sore.” You said, a bit afraid he’d be upset but he smirked instead. Pride flooded the bond.

“Yeah you are.”

“Sam!” You felt heat rush to your cheeks and more slick formed at the thought of what you had done with him.

“It’s ok baby. I have just the thing for you.”

He walked out of the bathroom and without missing a beat he picked you up. The bathroom was warmer and there were a few candles set up. The bathtub was filled with water and you could smell whatever scented oils he used. There were a few flower petals floating on top too. Sam turned in order to set you down in the tub but your grip on his neck tightened.

“Get in with me?” You looked up at him with doe eyes, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“Of course.”

Sam got in first and then you did, sitting between his legs and resting your back against his chest. His fingers delicately drew patterns up and down your arm and you sighed contently.

“Thank you.” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?”

“Everything. You’ve been wonderful.”

“Baby, I’d do anything for you. We all would.” He says.

“I know.” You turn to look at him. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful and I’d do anything for the three of you.”

Sam smiles and places a gentle, loving kiss on your lips.

“Well all I want you to do for me right now is to get comfortable again and enjoy this bath before things get intense again.”

You smile and do as he says, enjoying the feel of his kiss on his mark.

Sam had placed you back in your nest. He cuddled with you a bit longer but as your heat built up again he knew it was time for him to let Steve or Bucky in. Even though he was reluctant to do so. Even amongst a pack like theirs possessiveness was bound to happen during an omega’s first heat with her alphas if there were more than one. He knew it was ridiculous to feel that way but he couldn’t help it.

With one last kiss to your forehead Sam got out of the nest you’d built that now smelled like sex. He was replaced by Bucky at your request. You sighed happily when you felt his vibranium hand caress your cheek.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky checked in with you.

“Bad, need you.”

“I know, moonbeam. I’m gonna take care of you now.” Bucky cooed. “Do you still want this? Want my mark on your neck?”

You only nodded as you felt that all familiar fuzziness taking over.

“Use your words darling.”

“Yes, I want it.”

“Good girl.” Bucky smirked as you preened.

He pulled back the blanket you’d been wrapped up in, leaving you bare for him. Bucky inhaled deeply as the sweet scent of French lavender, violets and honey that usually lulled him into a sense of calm, now made him feel alive in a different way. He couldn’t help but settle in between your legs. His lips moving up your thighs and leaving a trail of kisses. Bucky didn’t waste any time as he licked a long stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. He growled at your taste before sealing his lips around your bundle of nerves.

You gasped at the sensation and your hands found their way into Bucky’s hair. The sweet sounds you were making were like music to his ears and he wanted to hear more. Soon enough he slowly started using a finger to fuck you.

“So fucking good omega.” He murmured against your mound before he started to flick his tongue over your clit.

“Alpha please.”

If the heat alone wasn’t enough, Bucky’s very talented mouth wiped all functions from your brain. You knew what you wanted but you couldn’t ask for it. Not with the way he was using two fingers to find that spongy spot inside. The need low in your belly built quickly and you found yourself grinding against his face.

“Be a good girl and cum for your alpha.” Bucky growled and it sent a shiver down your spine and straight to your pussy. You moaned as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

It took a moment to come down from that high but when you did Bucky was gently caressing your cheek. He smiled at you when you finally looked up at him.

“So pretty when you cum, omega. I wanna see you do it on my knot.”

“Please alpha.” You reached for him and he gladly ducked his head and kissed you. Another moan escapes your lips when you taste yourself on his tongue.

Bucky moves to hover over you without breaking the kiss. Your legs part willingly as he settles himself in between them. When you feel his cock, already hard and leaking precum, against your heat you roll your hips.

“So desperate ‘mega. Is this what you want?” He rolled his hips and you moaned.

You nod and whine as he pulls away slightly. Bucky lines himself up, groaning as he pushes in.

“Look at that, you were made just for me.”

His hands find yours and he puts them over your head, pinning them with one hand. Bucky is slow with a roll of his hips. As much as he wanted to go fast and hard, he remembered that you were more delicate. He had much more restraint than he realized, even when you sounded so pretty.

“Alpha…”

“What do you want, omega? Tell me.” He ran his nose along your neck and he placed a kiss over Sam’s mark before giving your breasts attention.

“More, please.”

“More?”

“Faster. Harder.”

The growl that rumbled in his chest had you clenching around him.

“Are you sure about that darling? Think you can handle me fucking you like that?”

“Yes, please. Need it.”

Bucky smirked, his eyes completely dark and full of lust. His hand letting go of yours and traveling down your body until they’re at your hips. He pulled away from you, sitting up on his haunches and pulling you with him. Bucky snaps his hips once, testing out if that’s really what you want. You throw your head back with a moan as you hold on to his forearms. He does it again and again until he’s built a rhythm that is pushing you to the edge. He knows it just by the way you flutter and clench around him, that and the chorus of yes and alpha that pour out from your mouth.

When you finally reach your peak and you’re engulfed in pure pleasure, Bucky leans over and marks you. You feel his teeth break skin and then his tongue runs over the new mark. The next thing you feel is his knot and you will yourself to look up at him. He’s so beautiful like this, completely blissed out and barely holding back. Bucky offers you his neck and you claim him just how he had done with you. His knot catches and keeps him in place as he whispers your name. With a few final sloppy thrusts, Bucky cums.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you with him so that you’re laying on top of him completely. With a satisfied sigh and a smile on both your lips you let sleep take you as Bucky mutters praises in your ear.

****

To your surprise Bucky is still in the nest with you. He was seated up with his back resting against the pillows you had placed to the side earlier. He smiles as you look up at him.

“Hey there sleepyhead.”

“Hey.” You sit up and move to straddle his thighs and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, just wanna be close to you.”

You missed Bucky’s sweet smile as he wrapped his arms around you. He held you close for a few minutes, just enjoying the new bond that had been formed between the two of you.

“You need to drink some water.” He muttered a few minutes later. You pulled back to see he had a water bottle close by as well as some snacks. “Gotta keep your energy up, darling.” He said when he followed your eyes.

“I don’t want to eat.”

“What, all you wanna do is fuck?” He teases.

“Yeah.” You teased right back and he laughed. It was still a new and strange sensation, feeling his happiness through the bond. Along with that feeling Sam’s curiosity piqued.

“Just a few bites of something darling. Let me take care of you.”

“Ok.”

“Good girl.” Bucky’s praise sent a shiver up your spine.

The rest of the time with Bucky was spent cuddling and napping. You weren’t sure what time it actually was but you didn’t care as you were lulled to sleep with the coolness of Bucky’s left hand on your forehead.

The door opens slowly to reveal Steve. He was shirtless and was wearing sweats that hung low on his hips. The sight was mouth watering. He had a smirk on his face and a dark, lust blown look in his eye.

“Hi my sweet starlight.” He said as he walked in and closed the door.

“Hi.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Just you.” You whispered.

“Good answer.”

Although Steve is radiating the confidence that comes with being the head of the pack, both the team and personal, he’s gentle as he gets into the nest. He still understands how vulnerable you are at the moment. Steve hovers over you as he crashes his lips against yours. This kiss is more dominant and all consuming than any you’d shared before. You moan against his lips as his hands find your breasts and palms them.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks against your lips and you nod. “Do you want more?” You nod again.

“Please alpha, need more.”

“Then present for your alpha.” He whispered in your ear.

The command left no room for argument. Not that you would, the growl laced within it spoke directly to your inner omega. You scrambled to get on your hands and knees. Just for good measure you lowered your chest toward the floor and wiggled your hips for him. You heard his groan and then felt a sting on your ass from where he smacked you.

“Such a tease. You’ve been doing it for weeks.” He mutters before smacking your ass again after hearing your moan.

“You’re a tease.”

“Is that what you think baby?”

“Yes.” You say breathlessly as you feel Steve shift behind you and run his hardened length between your folds to gather the slick that has accumulated there.

“No more teasing then. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

“Please alpha.” You wiggle your ass for him one more time before he buries himself inside you in one thrust.

That was enough to knock the wind out of your lungs and your mouth to hang open. Steve could feel you clenching around him and it took everything in him to not fuck you into oblivion. At least not yet, he knew he needed to ease into it. Steve pulled back slowly and immediately you felt empty so you pushed back into him.

“Someone’s desperate.” He teases while grabbing your hips to keep you in place.

Then he pushes back into your warm cunt. Steve leaves a trail of kisses up your spine while he ruts into you.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” He whispers into your ear. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Steve straightens up and starts to thrust harder and faster. You grip the pillow closest to you as you take every inch of him. He’s turned you into putty in his hands and all you can do is moan and writhe beneath him.

It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling that fire deep in your belly build. It’s obvious to Steve that you’re close with the way you’re making a mess and fluttering around his cock. His hand snakes around your body and wraps around your throat and he pulls you up. Steve moves his free hand from your hip to your clit, giving you added stimulation.

“Alpha… So good.” You said, over and over again.

“Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl? I know you are. I can feel you squeezing me. So fucking tight.”

The combination of his filthy words, thrusts and hand between your legs was enough. You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you and the only thing keeping you up is Steve’s arms around you. His head is buried in your neck and that’s when you realized he’s left his mark on your neck. Before you can enjoy the feeling, Steve is pulling away and laying you down on your back before settling between your legs again. He smiles down at you while he lines himself up again.

This time when you look at him you can see the tenderness in his eyes. He’s gentle and caring with how he searches for his own release. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek as he whispers your name as he finds his own bliss and exposes his next to you. His knot seals you together for the moment, but your mark on his neck seals you together forever. Before moving Steve peppers kisses all over your face. Then as carefully as he can he moves to lay on his side. Your leg thrown over his hip and his arms around your waist to keep you close.

****

You’re cuddled up next to Steve when an overwhelming feeling washes over you. You can’t stop the silent tears that slip through your lashes and fall on his bare chest. He pulled back to get a better look at you at the sensation and noticed the tears.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” Steve asks as he sits up, bringing you with him. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head. There’s no real way to explain it. Soon the door to the room opens to reveal Bucky and Sam. They both have worried expressions on their faces.

“Talk to me baby. What’s wrong? Do you need something?”

“No, I just- I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels like a lot.” You said as you moved into Steve’s lap looking for comfort.

The three alphas look at each other, concerned that maybe they moved too fast. The last thing they wanted was to make you feel forced or trapped in a relationship.

“I’ve been so alone for most of my life. But now I have you, all of you. What if I’m not go-“

“Don’t even think about it.” Bucky cut you off. “We’ve talked about this darling. On our date remember.” He was sitting beside Steve so that you could see him. “Feeling like we don’t belong but we do, you do. That feeling right now, I know it. I felt the same way when I was first mated and bonded.”

“You did?”

“Yeah I did. It took me a while to figure out what that overwhelming feeling that sits right,” he leans forward and touches your chest. “There. It’s the bond and more importantly what you’re feeling is love. It’s the love we have for you.”

“You love me?”

“Sweetheart of course we do.”

“We love you so much.”

“Absolutely.”

They all said at the same time.

“I- I love you too. All of you.” You admitted.

That feeling in your chest warmed you from the inside out. Steve tipped your head back and kissed you softly.

“You have us and we never want you to doubt your place in our pack.” Sam adds. “I don’t think you’ve realized it but you’ve got us wrapped around your finger, sunshine.”

The following few days were a blur. Sam, Bucky and Steve’s rut started a few hours after your heat. The four of you were a tangled mess of limbs within the confines of your nest. They took care of you and you returned the favor.

It was overwhelming and scary, comforting and safe. The more you settled into the bond the more at home you felt. Never again would you be alone. You had your pack to make you feel safe and loved and cherished.

In those first few days understanding the bond and the connection with all three alphas was confusing. But then it clicked. You realized you were more than true mates, your souls were connected too.

Ch 12

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[sanjisblackasswife]

“ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕋𝕠𝕪”

Sanji 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖! 𝚁𝚎a𝚍𝚎𝚛

Bad Summary: Sanji finds out about your little secret.

CW: Google “Rose Toy” if you don’t know what it look like, Use of RT, Teasing, Sanji is an extreme pervert, Oral, just sex, Pet name, Twt Link Mentioned

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Way more turned on than he should be.

He was rummaging through your stuff only because you asked him to grab you a tee shirt to wear when you get out the shower and digging too deep he found the cute little toy.

“Oh!”

Sanji and you never had sex yet in being together. He always was too afraid to go any further in case you feel uncomfortable so he always sat and waited like a good boy until you were ready.

But this.

This was different.

He never thought you masturbated let alone owned toys, you were his sweet and bubbily girlfriend, but to know you have such a dirty little secret made him palm his pants.

He held the toy, admiring its shape and color, and immediately thought of you using it.

Sanji watches porn so he knew what it was, and he looks back at your bed.

“She…probably does it right there.” He thought seeing your side of the bed, legs spread, panting and moaning like a little slut from the stimulation.

He began to rub against his growing erection. It was wrong, he knows, but dammit you seemed hotter in his eyes.

All the times he wasn’t with you, were you in here playing with yourself? All those times you excused yourself early from dinner or a heated makeout session in the kitchen?

It all started to come together for Sanji and honestly he started to get riled up at the thought.

Too much so he began to fall into his own dirty world in his head rubbing himself, and that’s where you caught him.

“I-I-I—-I’m so sorry! I didn’t—Y/N—“

You were as embarrassed as he was, covering your face was the only thing you could do, seeing your toy in his hand and the other holding up his pants you really wished you could just disappear right now.

Sanji sighed seeing you shut down, he felt like shit going through your personal belongings like that. He knew better than to be so nosey.

Quickly placing down the toy he ran to you and tried to comfort by holding you against his chest, “This is so awkward, Ji.” You mumbled against him.

“It-It’s not!” He pulled you away to cup your warm damp cheeks, “It’s not I just…I shouldn’t have peaked. I didnt know you had this, but Y/N it’s okay! it is! It’s normal—totally….normal..”

His eyes got dark staring into yours, the pretty blue grey orbs turning into a darker hue almost made you jump, his nose trickled, stopping and pooling a little at his cupids bow, you roll your eyes, clearly this was another one of his love drunken spells

but you were so wrong.

“San—-“

Though he didn’t press his face against yours to kiss, you most definitely felt the need of how much he wanted to rip off your towel from your finger tips.

But instead he grabbed your hand. helping you guide it down your body and the moment it slid off Sanji bent down to travel his lips to your nipples.

“J-Ji! We shouldn’t—“

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” His hands cups your cheeks to soothe you, “Just let me make you feel good…with..”

He turned briefly to grab your toy, your eyes narrowing down at it, it looked so much smaller in his hands.

“With this.” Sanji’s voice was softer, he perked up at his naughty idea, and you nibbling your lip gave away how much you liked it causing him to smile at you.

You look away, shyly nodding and allow your pervy little boyfriend to giggle and hug you in delight before laying you on your back, “M’ganna feel so good for you, mama.”

He knew you melted that that small little nickname, the way it casually rolls off his tongue in his rasped voice always got you right where he wanted.

You opened your legs for him, watching his clothes shed off his skin as his eyes didn’t tear from your cunt, just begging to be touched, kissed, licked and, of course; toyed with.

“O-oh!” Feeling the sudden vibration and pulses of your toy, playing with your clit and aginst your hole, Sanji takes a moment to look down at you, your eyes shut, nipping at your lip as your hands were balling up fists of the sheets. “San—“

Sanji cut you off by latching his lips on yours, he adjusted your body sideways ontop of him, his soft small lips against your own while you felt the buzz of your vibrator on you. Sanji couldn’t take it anymore, rotating the vibrator on your pussy in circles for extra stimulation you felt yourself get already close to cumming. Way closer than you could when you played with it by yourself.

“Mmmmm fuck m’ganna cum.” You moaned jnto his mouth, you felt your face warm at your dirty words, you never was the type to speak in such a way with him.

Sanji groaned back, his erection growing painful rubbing against you from below.

“That’s it..” He mumbled against your lips, his nicotine breath mixed with a juice he sipped on earlier had you wiggle your tongue to collide with his, “That’s it baby feel good and cum for me..”

Your hips moved in the same motion as his hand, the swirl of the toy plus the vibrations you felt against your sensitive little clit made your claw at sanji’s bare chiseled chest, you felt yourself already approaching a quick orgasm.

Sanji on the other hand felt himself slowly cum with your, your slurry moans of his name, the quick glances of your breast jiggling every time a jolt of pleasure hit your body with your toy hit under your clit, and your whines of being close to cumming all had his mind frazzled.

Damn, if he wasn’t in his right mind he would have picked you up, threw you on the bed and took you from behind.

Sanji turned the rose off, using his own fingers to ride out your high, he hooked his fingers inside your gushing wet slit and moved it up and down causing you to squirt all over his palm and forearm.

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Sanji groaned into your neck, softly pinching and toying with your clit a little. He loved playing with your pussy so much. “All better?”

You felt your cunt pulsating, still soso sensitive to touch your push his hand away, your blonde boyfriend chuckles. “Wan’more…”

“Oh…like…sex?”

You nod, it was only right to let him finally take what was long over due to him, he was so sweet and understanding about your little secret you kiss his lower lip.

“Take me however you want.”

Seeing the lust in your eyes he grinned down at you, placing you flat on tour back on the bed he wasted no time suckling your nipples, giving them firm nibbles, but soft licks.

He hooked your right leg on his hip, ready to allign himself inside you you give him a kiss, it somehow relieved any stress you felt in your tummy you didn’t know you had.

In one swift movement Sanji bottomed out inside you, causing the kiss to break.

“Thank….you…” You whispered, eyes shut calmly feeling his body snap against yours, he always felt so much bigger than you imagined, Sanji wraps his arm around your body and his other hand reaches to hold yours, burying his face in your neck he says

“I love you, y/n…”

You grin, damn…you wished he would have caught you sooner.

No worries, he made up for lost time that night making you cum again, and again, and again, and again.

You nearly ended up throwing the toy away, but alas Sanji kept it for himself as a keepsake. For the time he had finally made love to you.

[stevie-petey]

Hi M! I saw you mention that you felt bad for Billy because of that particular lack of a chance he got to prove himself to be a good person. And I definitely agree because even tho he was really cruel and horrible, the scene of his death still made many of us cry 🤧

Because of this, I thought of a tiny little angst blurb if you want to write it!

In your latest chapter of come home, it was mentioned that he tried finding bug because he didn’t know what was going on with him and why he was acting the way he was.

Do you think you could write that from his pov?

Thank you! 😁

this one is a challenge because ive never written billys pov but heres my very poor attempt lmao

enjoy !

"dude, are you alright?"

lights blind billy. a ringing in his ears nearly deafens him. his vision blurs and his teeth grind into sawdust. the taste of blood fills his mouth as he bites down on his tongue. he grips at the lifeguard stand, hardly able to stand himself.

theres a guy in front of him. billy thinks his name is alex, who eyes him wearily. alex clears his throat, tries again. "hey, uh. billy?"

billy. his name is billy. billy hargrove.

the metallic taste of blood coats his mouth. he tries to speak, words tumble from mouth like a slippery slope. he doesnt have control over them. he cant remember if hes supposed to breathe in or out when he speaks.

all billy knows is that theres a girl out there. someone told him to come find her of he ever needed anything. what was her name? it started with an h, two, maybe three syllables.

he loses his footing, almost falls against the stands wood, and alex takes a step back from him. hes scared of billy. did he do something? hes cold. his entire body is cold.

"you know what, im just... i'll just go." alex takes another step back. he pushes his glasses up stands awkwardly in front of billy. "y/n is probably waiting for me, anyways."

the hair on billys arms stand up.

y/n henderson. that had been the girls name.

sweetheart. billy calls you sweetheart. hawkins sweetheart. the one who extended help to him.

"where?" saliva mixed with blood follows billys question.

alexs eyes widen. "w-what?"

"where. is. y/n?" he needs to find you. its getting harder and harder to keep the blood inside his mouth. his guts twist within his stomach, billy thinks the cold that attacks his body is really white hot heat, searing his intestines and burning him from the inside.

you said you could help him.

billy doesnt know whats going on. darkness seeps into his brain. he cant think straight. the sunlight casts a blinding streak across his eyesight. is he dreaming?

"she... she should be waiting in her car." alex isnt sure if he should be telling billy this. youve always been weird when it came to the mention of the boy, but billys sweat drips onto the concrete and alex thinks he may be experiencing heatstroke.

he decides then that he should take billy to you. alex knows youll know what to do. you always do. the amount of times youve saved his ass at work is more than hes willing to admit, but alex holds a deep appreciation for you.

alex grabs billys arm to guide him towards the pools exit, but the skin is cold to the touch. he flinches, he doesnt understand whats wrong with the guy. hes drenched in sweat and yet ice cold.

billy doesnt register any of this. all he can feel is his body being moved somewhere. hes removed from it all. his body hasnt been his ever since the night he crashed his car.

theres something inside of billy. something more sinister than the anger his father left him. worse than the bruises and scars from his childhood. and billy is afraid.

it takes some maneuvering, alex has to stop and steady billy every few feet, but eventually they make it to the pools parking lot. only your car isnt there.

alex curses and looks down at his watch. its almost one in the afternoon. your shift at bookstrordinary shouldve ended thirty minutes ago. youre never late.

and yet you never show.

billy and alex stand in the parking lot for nearly an hour waiting for you. the sun blazes down upon their skin. billy nearly blacks out at one point, and alex doesnt know what to do.

then something seems to shift within billy. his back straightens, his eyes suddenly ignite, and the blue in his irises is gone. black now infiltrates, and alex nearly trips on the curb in his haste to get away from him.

billy sniffs the air in an animalistic way. alex watches.

theyre here.

the voice booms in billys mind. its gravelly, rough, it isnt human.

follow them. follow her.

billy turns and sees el walking across the street. shes coming towards the pool. she hasnt seen him yet. neither have the others. those goddamn kids and max.

max.

who is he again?

[blackdollette]

OFF TO THE RACES. - kappa

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: off to the races. - born to die: paradise

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: my old man is a bad man...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @iiheartsai @vanlisbon @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @livingdead-reilly @yungbloodsuxca

female!reader x kappa

word count: 846

contents: house invasion, mention of drugs, alcohol consumption, fingering, slightly toxic relationship, a little manipulation, praise

a cult leader, robber, and a killer. you couldn’t deny that he was a bad man, but it didn’t matter when he shattered the glass window of your house, gazing at you in the dark like a predator watching its prey, taking hold of your hand and your heart in a single grasp. he quickly was able to weave himself into your life, causing you to become just as corrupt as he was, spoiled and materialistic. but he loved you more and more each day with every beat of his cocaine heart.

he watched you swimming in your glimmering pool, discarding each piece of your soaking wet bikini one by one until you were stripped bare for him. you trailed your hands down your dripping body, fingernails painted the shade of deep red that always had an effect on him. he whistled you over to him, pulling you onto his lap with his fingers shoved inside your mouth as he rubbed slow circles onto your hard pearl, swigging from a bottle of vintage champagne as your cum glistened on his fingers.

he called you his good little bunny, and you did whatever he asked of you without questions. and he repaid your obedience by spoiling you with an endless supply of wealth, giving you whatever you wanted with the snap of his fingers. 

he sped down the highway in his van, you sitting pretty in the passenger seat with your bare feet resting in his lap. you sipped from a bottle of golden rum, watching the scenery go by as you got completely wasted in his presence. he saw you as a wild little flame, and he was the fuel. you felt he was the only man who could deal with you. you were imprisoned by your addiction to him, knowing that you could never get out.

kappa was a timeless being. you’d believe whether or not he said he was 30 or 300 years old. he was as tough as nails, but as sweet as blood-red jam. as addictive as he was, you knew he couldn’t be good for you. but he was exactly what your tar-black soul had been craving all your life. that’s what he told you, anyway. he constantly reminds you that if it weren’t for him, you’d still be living your old, broke-down lifestyle and that you owed him everything you had. and without a second thought, you gave it to him.

he took you to the most high-brow hotels in the country, especially because he couldn’t stay in the same town for a long time without attracting the wrong attention. you didn’t mind always being on the run or the police chases. if anything, it made you admire him even more. he made sure you were dressed to the nines for every occasion. he loved having his girl looking good at all times, even though you were becoming a complete mess as a result of this lifestyle. 

you loved him to death, but you knew that you were going down. getting into all sorts of trouble on a daily basis. getting tangled up in crimes and even needing to get bailed by him from time to time. but you’d simply give him that innocent little smile and be in the clear again. you couldn’t stop your reckless behaviour, but you didn’t much care to anyway.

you watched the red and blue lights flashing one night, watching as your old man got taken away right in front of you. you cried and cried as you realized that you were all alone again. it had been long since he wasn’t right at your side, and you were helpless. you prayed for many hours that night, begging that he would come back to you. you weren’t afraid to say that you would die without him. after all, who else would put up with you this way? you needed him, he was the air you breathed and you couldn’t afford to leave him now. they would all rue the day that you were alone without him. on that same night, you lay in your bed, crying to the gods that they should release him. your prayers were interrupted by the sound of that same glass window shattering, and there he was, right at your fingertips once again. he took you into his arms, holding you as you sobbed into his chest. he looked down at you, a cigar hanging from his lips as he said, “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you look this beautiful, hon…”  

he was back, and worse than ever. you and him raced all over town, raising hell wherever you went. with a toss of his hair, you were all over him again. following his every command and being a good little pet just for him. and you knew he got a sick thrill from it all. he was crazy, but you would love him forever, guaranteed. and you were committed to following him until the day you died. 

you were fully convinced that he was your one true love.

author's note: i like this one 🤭

[purrple-bat]

Had this idea brewing for a while in my head, yet I know I don't think I would be able to write it down into something solid instead of daydreaming about it as I try to sleep. Very sleepy and not double checking what I'm writing down rn.

Of Narinder finally getting his power back, finally breaking his chains; yet there is still something missing. A hole in his heart that only expands when his gaze fall back on the now still body of his vessel. The Lamb, devoid of life and of soul.

Just like Fate had edict it, the last sheep would die for a god. And Fate - just like his siblings had learned - could not be bent or broken; one way or another it would finish its job.

The One Who Waits could see his kits felt the same chasm in their heart at the loss of someone; who would spar with them daily, who would read them tales of their adventures and of past chronicles shared by their lost kins. Who wasn't afraid to butt heads with their God yet would ever be loyal to their wishes. Who passionately talked about the life on the surface, of the changes being brought back as each Bishops were slain.

Yet what the God of the Red Crown couldn't see was a single soul, a Lamb standing right by his side perceptible by none. It seems that once again, their service were needed. This time, there was nothing or noone to guide them. And so they followed their master; ever faithful, even after death, The Lamb would serve their God.

His vessel had prepared their people for the transition of leadership, and so Narinder encountered little problems. A statue doubling as a grave was built soon enough; the resting place of what noone else could ever achieve, the truest devout of the Red Crown.

Whether it was residual of the Crown or not, The Lamb could still see the solid form of devotion and manipulate it. Without anything else to do, they would ensure to help their master, bringing the devotion directly like they would when he was still chained; even taking the devotion which was pooling at their own statue and giving it to the only god who deserved it.

It was all the Lamb would do until the first death claimed the Cult. Jean, a young deer who had been born in the cult, sadly no longer having the strength to fight against his illness. His soul rested next to his deathbed, tears filling his eyes as he shook in place. That was until his blurry sight caught someone he had thought long gone, that of a Lamb sitting next to him, the picture of grace like he remembers them to be. The soul lounged itself into the arms of its once leader and hold on to it until no tears were left.

As it calmed, all that was left was a floating blue flame; one that could be held into the Lamb's palm. And with a final embrace, the flame would be ready for its way into the afterlife. A Shepard of the souls, The Lamb would be. Yet it did not stopped them from servicing their master, doing whatever they could to bring peace to him. Both him and the Twins clearly suffered nightmares. Of what? The Lamb could not tell. But if staying by their side as they slept would help, they would do so gladly; watching over with care in their heart.

This life would not be that simple for The Lamb, nothing ever was. A mystical being came to seek the Lamb, coming into the same realm that they were now residing, as noone else seem to notice them. The Mystic Seller would tell them simply, there is more then one way to reach godhood. Yes, the Crowns could help with it, making it a slow but garantied transition. Yet there was other ways, as long as Devotion, Beliefs and Fate mingled. After all, even if they did not took it, there were still many who believed in the Lamb; even the God of Death would often pay it's respect to their grave. The works of the Lamb had travelled far and wide; many knew them as a savior who would free the souls of those wrongly slaughtered. In this wide world, many already believed them to be a benevolent God.

This was now the Lamb's realm, parallel to that of the mortal plane. An infant God of devotion and loyalty, of love and care, of afterlife and justice; that is what it had determined the Lamb to be. No longer mortal, it is why no matter how hard Narinder has tried, he could not revive his vessel; as mortal, they no longer were.

My brain is getting fuzzy and tired, and surgery soon which will mean I can't use my right hand for a while so I think I'm stopping there.

The Lamb wanting to meet with the one they have fallen for (Nari) once again, doing whatever they can as they travel through the dark into their new godhood until they can learn to travel to different realms.

The Lamb becoming a protective spirit for those faithful and pure, using their skills to fight off the terrors of the territories outside of the cult grounds.

[generalluxun]

Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa!

hey @queenhoneybee-exe ! I'm delighted to be your backup Secret Santa for @mlsecretsanta I was also delighted to write a lukloé fic! It's been too long.

I hope you enjoy this one. It was fun to work one in set just before the start of S6. (we can make good things happen anywhere in the timeline!)

Full story below the cut, or you can read it on AO3 Here if you prefer.

Paris was at peace, Luka was not. He knew he should be. Monarch was gone. Marinette and Adrien -Ladybug and Cat Noir- were a couple. Mayor Bustier had implemented a swath of new initiatives to better the city. By all accounts he should be happy. Yet, something lurked.

He lay on his back in the lush green grass of a park. The sky was a playful blue dotted with puffs of harmless clouds. The sounds of the city burbled and overlapped like a brook scattering over smooth stones; and that was just on the level of regular hearing.

Luka tried again to center himself. He closed his eyes. He let his breathing slow. He tuned out the surface sounds and instead listened to the harmonies within. 

Here was a woman trying to wrangle a toddler and an excitable puppy. Someone might call the whole affair noisy. To Luka it was the tittering of a flute, bouncing up and down the scales. There two men argued about the price of a souvenir shirt. Their voices sawed the strings of a humble cello. Others and more, people’s melodies normally wrapped him warmly and brought solace to his heart. This time he could feel them instead laying like a blanket, pooling above him but floating above a mystery he could not unravel. The mystery was inside himself, a place he seldom had cause or time to explore.

Drifting, seeking a peace that would not come, he missed the change in sound at first. By the time he came back to himself the pool of melodies swam with ripples. Luka reached for them but could not grasp their meaning, or even their origin. They matched no sound his ears took in. He opened his eyes and sat up. He scanned his surroundings. 

That’s how he found… her.

She stood at the curb like a Song Thrush, nervous of predators. Her head turned this way and that. Her motions were quick, jerky, unpredictable, and full of tics. He found himself expecting her to hop, and half afraid it would be into the sparse traffic. What overwhelmed him though, was her melody. Or rather, the promise of her melody.  

She was noisy in a way he had never heard before. She had not one instrument, but an entire orchestra pit. The instruments warred with each other, passing in and out of being. It was as if a great symphony was waiting to be played, only the musicians were all trapped in a loop of warming up. The portent poured itself into that space that had plagued him, filling it up.

I have to know what this means.

He was on his feet and jogging across the street before his conscious mind caught up with his body. Her head snapped around, the wide-brimmed sun hat she wore revealed her face. Deep blue eyes sized him up in an instant as only prey animals could. It dawned on him he had seen her before. The gold of her hair, the sharp line of her jaw; this was Chloé Bourgeois.

Her eyes widened. The instruments flared. Brass bludgeoned the strings. Luka tripped on the curb, stopping beside her. He knew these next words were important. They had to be good. “You’re Chloé Bourgeois.”

Not his best work.

She recoiled. One hand came up, fingers moving as if to flick… a ponytail that was no longer there. Instead they brushed the ends of a new ear-length bob that had taken its place. “Who’s asking?”

Tympani rumbled a threat too high-pitched to hold weight. Still, Luka knew he had to get this back on track. Over eagerness would cost him. He took a calming breath and straightened up to the peak of his summer-growth-spurt height. “The name’s Luka,” he murmured against the backdrop of the city, “Pleasure to meet you.”

There was a hint of near-recognition before her eyes skittered and her head turned, only to come back to him. There were notes among the jumble, but not enough yet for a full bar. A smile tugged the corners of her lips for less than the space of a blink before a frown strangled it. “That makes one of us. What do you want?”

“Well, I uh-” Confrontation was not his forté.

The venom in her tone was neutered by the defensive turn of her shoulders. Luka tried again.

“You looked… upset! I couldn’t let that stand, so I thought I’d come over and see what the problem was.”

She looked him down and up, measuring. A judgement was in the works. The uncertainty of the outcome reached inside of him and tickled. Good sense was telling him to leave. Curiosity was demanding he stay. He had always listened to good sense before. Ignoring it now, felt powerful. The symphony settled, but just as he expected it to play, her voice cut through his perception.

“Well, you’re right. You’ve got eyes at least. It’s this stupid Uber thing. They don’t let limos in the city anymore -how lame is that?- So I had to call an -ugh- cab, but it’s not here, so I’m stuck out here where just anyone can walk up and blather on at me.”

A tittering of flutes, coy and mocking, fluttered up out of the sea of protean music. They dropped back into the mix as quickly as they rose though. To match their fall pain ghosted across those bronzed features. Chloé’s head turned sharply again, looking up the street.

Luka fell back to a classic, “A ride is all you need? I’ve got my bike chained at the park across the street. I can get you anywhere in Paris, free of charge.”

He gestured and it drew her eyes back to him before they followed his direction. Instead of acceptance or the more likely rejection he got a raised eyebrow, “A bike? Really? I wouldn’t want you killing yourself trying to chauffeur me and my luggage.”

The flutes returned with a background of strings. The two played around each other in a spiral of humor. She laid her hand on the handle of the single rolling bag she had with her. It was gold, embossed, and it could only have faded into the background beside a creature such as this.

That thought was unexpected, yet the thrill of having managed to draw a few bars of the same melody out twice turned apprehension into excitement. Luka pressed, with what he hoped was a smirk savvy enough to match her energy, “Just the one bag? I could carry that and you to England if I needed to. In all honesty, with what I’ve heard, I expected more.”

Bowstrings squealed across strings in a discordant shriek. Her eyes widened. Luka mentally scrambled, trying to restore the music.

He blurted out, “I mean, you’re just going to the hotel right? That’s not far at all.”

The shriek became a single tone; the high pitched whine of a flatlining heart. That musical tension translated into a physical one as well, the muscles across her face tensed into severity. A red flush came and went, leaving her bone-pale beneath the foundation. A hand, raised in playful gesture a moment before, curled into a white knuckled fist. The whine seeped through her whole body, a resonance that would shake her to pieces.

He’d done this.

He panicked.

He kissed her.

A kiss to restore life, a kiss to stave off death. That’s how it went right? Those were supposed to be romantic though, not a rough collision of lips on lips. Not one party frozen while the other holds them desperately by the shoulders, willing life into them. They all end with fluttering eyelashes and smiles, not one person flinching so intensely they headbutt the other.

“What on earth!” She wiped her lips with the hand so recently a fist.

Luka was holding his nose, blinking away tears. It hurt, but the whine had bloomed again. Drums rallied, brass blared. It was a cacophony but it was music. He smiled through the pain, “Sorry, I had to.”

“Had too?” She shoved him, but his keyed up senses felt the way her fingertips curled just before the contact would be broken. Her nails dug in and snagged in his sweatshirt, not letting him escape.

 “Mouth to mouth, the only way to save you from dying.”

He heard himself saying the words. He heard the little smarmy lilt filtering into his tone. He knew of these kinds of things, the same way he knew you could write music in C-sharp Major. He had never had occasion for either.

C-sharp Major. Seven Sharps. What use did he have for sharps? What use did the man of the house have for sharps? What use did a dutiful big brother have for sharps? What use did his mother’s conscience have for sharps? What use did Marinette’s stress relief have for sharps? What use did Adrien’s wingman have for sharps? What use did a middle school band’s manager have for sharps? What use did the level headed intuition hero have for sharps?

The girl before him was made of sharps, and Luka had been hoarding his for an entire lifetime. In response to his quip there was the rattle of snare drums. There was shock and recognition upon those painted features. The volume swelled in retaliation but the notes hung at the last second.

Luka sliced through the pause. He caught her still outstretched hand. “Now that I’ve saved you, I have to see you to where you are going. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Who was this Luka? He was the other side of every smile. He was the paymaster of every concession. He was so many self-denials that they had become a whole person. That person stared into deep blue eyes more fraught with emotion than he had ever seen. Some had precluded him, but some he had caused. That truth excited him.

“Really?” she hissed, hand slipping like a daydream from his grasp. She turned and tilted her head, the brim of her hat hiding her face. “No is the answer anyone who knew me would expect, and be grateful for.”

A slight tilt of her head back. The curve of her cheek peeked out from under her hat, and a sliver of deep blue cut by the onyx of an intrigued pupil.

Luka ducked his head and craned around into that invitation. He chased her gaze but when he caught it he found challenge not fear, and a lifted chin. The trumpets found their voice, pressing him back but his own repressed melody answered. Strained harsh chords from an electric guitar flowed through his veins.

Pricked from within he countered, “Well, then you’ll have to give me the chance to get to know you first, how else will I understand?”

She stepped closer, the symphony seemed to have found its footing. The Sonata-Allegro was in the offing. Her blue eyes narrowed up from under her brim, “You’ll embarrass yourself. I’ll laugh.”

Luka folded his arms, wearing that smarmy smile again. He leaned down closer, close enough to recall a foolhardy kiss moments past. The guitar riffs rippled up through him, licking like flames from the tips of his hair, “Then I’ll get to hear what that laugh sounds like.”

“Fine!” she pushed him again. “Go! Go on. -Ridiculous- You’d better not let me fall!”

She was shoving him as she spoke, turning him around back towards the park and pulling her suitcase in his wake. Luka stumbled forward under the prodding, giddy. His mind was racing, trying to keep up with these unexpected impulses. The electric guitar was thrumming out a tune he had never heard before. It wasn’t love, no. It was anticipation. It was hunger.

“This thing?” she derided when he stopped to unchain.

In response he snagged her bag and lashed it to the Pannier rack with two deft motions. He raised a challenging brow. The symphony had subsided. He had a deep need to revive it.

He mounted up.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” she groused. Her arms were folded, her shoulders hunched. Her bottom lip threatened a pout. Luka was silent for several more long seconds. Her right hand drifted up to flick back long hair that was still not there. Strings rose in tense quarter notes. He was learning.

“Hop on top of your luggage, sidesaddle. Isn’t that how all rich girls ride?”

The strings threatened a screech and Luka’s instincts warned even this new uncontrolled side. He extended a hand palm up at the end of his taunt, to assist her in taking her perch. She kept surprisingly good balance. One hand gripped his shoulder tightly. Nails dug in. It stung and revitalized in equal measure.

“Where to?” Luka asked.

She rattled off an address distractedly, then stretched out her other arm to point across the green.  “Oh, looks like my ride finally showed up.”

The throaty laugh that bubbled up behind him broke the symphony free again. The parts were disjointed, playing from different sheet music, but for a moment they were strident and enveloping.

All sharps.

Luka laughed too, without looking, and started to pedal. “He can’t take what I’ve rightfully stolen.” -----------------------------------------------------------

The address was close- too close. Luka had won the game. He had this new music in hand. He wanted more time with it, more time to experience it. What to do though? His normal routine would be to let it go. He had offered to do a thing, he would do it and damn his own desires.

The sharps prodded him. He took a risk. He took a wrong turn.

He took another, then another.

She doesn’t know where she’s going.

The thought was selfish, and brought elation. He rationalized- He was taking her there; the long way.

“So where am I taking you?” he called back over his shoulder to prompt her. The symphony had subsided into a burbling precursor again.

She leaned forward, the grip on his shoulder tightening. Sweatshirt and t-shirt combined were nothing before that manicure. The scent of her came with the motion. Not even the wind could keep it at bay. Musky, with a metallic aftertaste, like a chemical reaction tickling the roof of his mouth.

“To my home of course. What, do you think I take my luggage for little outings?”

The strings were peaking through the rush of air. Luka probed, “Where is home?”

Deadpan, “Where you are supposed to be taking me.”

A flight of flutes darted out of the chaos to circle their heads -amusement. Drawing them out felt like winning a prize.

Luka chuckled, “Yes, but what is where I am taking you, my precarious passenger?”

She withdrew, taking her scent and the flutes with her. Woodwinds could be faintly heard, in flats not sharps. No answer was forthcoming. It didn’t feel the same as before. His mind went into overdrive trying to puzzle it out. He nearly ran into a car that had been signaling its turn.

His sudden course correction earned a squawk from behind him and two sets of nails clawed into his shoulders while her hat brim smashed itself to the back of his neck. The pain brought clarity though. Clarity- the opposite of-

“Sorry,” Luka turned down a second stretch of the Seine, he felt the urge to risk passing his home. Would anyone see? What would they think?

He banished that tangential thought. Clarity the opposite of-

Confusion, “What I meant was, what is home like?”

He’d nearly missed the tympani amid trying to not die. It was surpassed by strings that belied her breezy words, “Oh you know, a house. A place with rooms; a bed I suppose.”

“You don’t know what your own home looks like?”

Strings and more strings. They screeched towards a crescendo. Before Luka could defuse it though, Chloe did so herself. “Are we going to be there soon? Can’t this silly little bike go any faster?”

He was technically caught and in the wrong. The urge to placate was overwhelming. It wasn’t placating that made the orchestra play though…

“Faster?” he called back, “Hold on.”

Luka leaned forward and upped his pace. The nails on his shoulders had to shift to his waist. He pedaled hard, his target was already close at hand; Le Boulevard Peripherique.

No bikes allowed on the Northwestern leg. He wasn’t concerned about that.

“What are you-?” didn’t stop him. The sharps were calling; not hers, his. What Luka would never dream of doing- no that was wrong. He had dreamed, in so many quiet nights. He had buried those dreams under other people’s needs.

He rode out into the fast moving traffic. Horns blared. He pedaled harder, his chest heaving. “Going fast! Isn’t this what you wanted? Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

A car rushed by on one side. Then on another. Luka was pushing, but the metal herd thundered around him faster. “Scared?!” Trumpets and brass backed by snares. She shook him from behind,”Go faster!”

“Faster!” he called back.

A truck rumbled by on the right, horn blaring. By the time it passed he was laughing, giddy. Luka stood on his pedals, those nails scrambled to keep hold on him. Upright,  he added his weight to the mix. His legs burned. His spokes were less than a blur. The bike rocked precariously back and forth with every downward thrust of the pedals. 

“Faster!” he shouted again, panting too hard to laugh.

He had raced ahead of planning, raced ahead of responsibility. It was exhilarating. It was freeing. He had no idea what would happen next.

What did happen was beyond even the unexpected though.

Clinging to him, hand over hand, his passenger pulled herself up his back. She hooked two fingers into the back of his collar. From the angle she was… standing?

”Faster!” she yelled.

Luka risked a glance up, and was treated to that wide brimmed hat being ripped from her head, lost to the wind wake. She was perched atop the rocking luggage rack, riding like the equestrian vault. Her sapphires shone, locked on the horizon. Her skin glowed bronze in the late summer sun. The symphony bloomed in full harmony. Luka forgot to pedal.

She turned that adrenaline-mad gaze down on him. He forgot to breathe.

“Faster!” she yelled again, yanking his collar like reins.

Luka snapped his eyes back to the road. The burning in his limbs and lungs was gone. He growled, hungry. He went faster.

They were a sight. They were a menace. They swerved in their lane. Horns and curses serenaded them. They laughed amid it all. The near misses added up though, a warning of payment due.

Luka took the next off ramp, coasting down from breakneck speed. Laughter turned to wordless giggles from both of them. Luka was on autopilot, waiting for his heart to catch up. The bike juddered once as she sat down heavily behind him, leaning sprawled across his back with her head on his shoulder with her music in his ears.

Too late Luka realized his error. They were too close to the destination. In his haze he’d taken them the rest of the way, and his foot dropped as they came to a stop before he could work up another excuse to continue.

The end of motion reminded them both that the world still existed beyond their fingertips. She pushed off him -not roughly this time- and slid from the back of his bike. Luka was still reeling, trying to realign a lifetime around the last few minutes.

She took a step towards the house, white sides ensconced within an old stone wall. Her head tilted just enough for her fringe to brush her cardigan. “It looks… nice?”

It sounded more like she was evaluating his home than her own. When she looked back at him it registered, she was asking for confirmation. Luka nodded, “It does. Neat, charming, affluent, but not excessive.”

She turned back fully and clasped her hands in front of her. The symphony had gone wandering again, but this time the instruments were not at war. They were simply… uncertain?  She stepped back towards him. Words formed behind her gaze but never made it to her lips. Luka felt like an entire novel was cowering under his tongue as well.

She gestured awkwardly. “My bag…”

“Oh!” Luka almost fell, getting off his bike. His feet weren’t cooperating and his legs were charging interest on exhaustion. He unstrapped her bag as deftly as he had loaded it, took it down and wheeled it within her reach.

He knew he had to think of something… A sharp glinted within his chest.

She reached for it, but he held on over that cocky grin, “You owe me.”

She startled. The way her eyes widened he could fall in. “What?”

Luka rolled it a few cm closer to her and let go. “You owe me. You made it so I had no choice but to kiss you. You’ve got to give me a chance to get you to kiss me.”

Shock melted into a tangle of expressions he couldn't quite unwind. The symphony played on though; inexpertly, as if unsure of the various parts. The whole was cut silent without warning though. Those painted lips turned into a thoughtful frown.

“You’ve no reason to hang around someone like me, and I can’t be seen anywhere with someone like you. Th-thank you, for the ride… all of it.”

Another novel went unspoken. Unrestrained Luka was a newborn creature, he was tired out and could not push further. Insightful Luka wasn't even sure he should. The sharpness about her now felt like glass, not steel. In the end he just nodded wordlessly.

He got on his bike.

She turned.

He dithered with his gears.

She began to walk, taking out a key from her pocket.

He lifted his helmet -forgotten in its bracket all this time- and put it on.

She reached the narrow iron gate in the stone wall.

Luka breathed out regret and flipped up his kickstand.

“I- A Chauffeur!”

His eyes snapped to the sound of her voice. She held her key in one hand, gesturing as she spoke in a rush. “I will need a chauffeur, and… someone to run errands! I have to buy food… somewhere… I can’t be expected to do it all on my own.”

Luka knew to grab a lifeline when one was thrown. He smiled. “Deliveries are my specialty.”

She came back at a trot, her bob bouncing. She stuffed a business card into his hand. “Text my number, so I have yours. I-”

She seemed to remember herself, or perhaps remember the world. She straightened.

Her tone turned cool, “I will contact you if I have needs.”

He didn’t chuckle, didn’t laugh, didn’t punch the sky and shout for joy. He kept his smile small, deniable. “It will be my pleasure, Miss Bourgeois.”

She turned crisply around, but with her back to him, “Chloé.”

“Chloé.”

The klang of the iron gate closing was the next thing Luka was aware of. He blinked. She was gone.

The symphony remained.