#its so frustrating. when my thoughts are pressured i spin so fast it feels like my head might pop but the thoughts never go anywhere

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 10

Summary: Haunted by her own mind, Y/N isn’t sure what to do with the information she uncovered. On the other hand, the Darkling felt a growing distance between them, allowing himself to admit something he never thought he’d say.

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff, sexual innuendos 

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine   

=================================

A long time ago lived a young boy with the power of saints. He held the darkness at the tip of his fingers, capable of forcing the day into an eternal night. Back then, he made all the wrong choices for all the right reasons. To protect the ones he loves, he allowed the shadows to consume him. Cursed with immortality, he walked the earth ever since. Forever alone, hurt and betrayed, the Darkling's heart no longer beat as it turned to stone. No longer did he suffer, no longer did he feel pain or anything at all.

Until now.

There was no escape from emotions when he looked at her. Even in the darkness, she had the ability to set his world on fire.

A single badly made decision in a moment where everything feels more important than love can make your entire life feel like a failure. He would never make the same mistake again. 

This lifetime he gives to her – wholeheartedly.

When they stopped for the night, he had felt uneasy as Y/N conversed freely with everyone but him. It seemed like she’s on edge and not knowing why gnawed at him. Once night came and they settled in their tent, the Darkling couldn’t contain himself.

"I sense some...hostility."

Scoffing, she rolled her eyes, "Oh, how observant of you."

"What happened?” He asked, “Did someone at the Palace do something to you? Was it Genya?"

"And what if she did?” Tilting her head ever so slightly, she neared him. “What would you do?"

Without thinking, he answered, "I'd protect you."

Inhaling sharply, she raised an eyebrow. "And what if it was you?"

Pausing, his eyebrows furrowed as he unclenched his jaw. "Is it me?"

"If it was you who upset me, would that bother you?" Y/N pushed further, genuinely wondering if he cares for her as much as she thinks. After all, who’d believe the Darkling has a heart? She was still trying to convince herself it’s real when he kisses her temple when he thinks she’s fast asleep.

"Immensely."

With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him. "So, how would you protect me from yourself?"

Letting out a heavy sigh, Aleksander ran his hand through his hair. "I'd let you decide."

Closing her eyes in frustration, her lower lip curled inwards as her front teeth sunk into the flesh. A part of her wanted to ask him about being the creator of the fold, but it was an advantage that would be unwise to let go of. 

"Why are you being so agreeable? Is it because I spread my legs for you now?"

"I've never known you to be so crude." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he squints at her and it’s taking everything in her not to smile because she absolutely loved when he’d look at her like that. It felt more natural than the soft, wistful looks he’d send her way.

"And I never realized you could be so easily tamed”, she remarks, her voice louder than before.

Chuckling in disbelief, the Darkling shrugs off his kefta without breaking eye contact. "You believe that you've tamed me?"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shut her eyes. Her face is flushed, her head spinning and she has nothing concrete to tell him. She can’t make sense of anything anymore, the image of him in her head changing with every passing minute.

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

In two strides, Aleksander found himself before her. Cupping her cheeks, he tilts her head up to face him and when she opens her eyes, she’s lost in the universe that’s captured in his eyes. She loved the night sky littered with stars, but she never truly knew what it means to stargaze until she met him.

“I’ve discovered I love you.”

Raising her eyebrows, her jaw slacked. “When have you discovered that?” Her voice is high, tone defensive, but his smile grows because it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t fight him even when he’s trying to admit to something he long forgot exists.

“When all my decisions started to revolve around keeping you safe.”

Shaking, her eyes widened. “That’s impossible! You hate me!”

Placing a hand over her mouth, he used his other to press his index finger to his lips. “Shh”, he chuckles, “You’ll wake the others.”

Rolling her eyes, she licked his hand.

“Really? I’ve touched you in a way that made you scream long into the night”, he deadpans, “Your tongue can’t possibly disgust me.” Smirking, he leans in, “On the contrary.”

Slapping his hand away, she turned away from him. Grabbing her head, she sat down with her thoughts running so fast, too fast for her to pick one out to decide what she thinks, feels, wants.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her back flush against his chest. “I know you hate me now, but I’m a patient man. I won’t give up on you.”

He held her for a while, too long for either of them to realize the night had slowly trickled away from them and given way to dawn. Their journey wasn’t quite as long anymore. Soon enough, they’ll be at the fold and Y/N didn’t know what to do.

Should she tell him? Ask him for an explanation?

Would he kill her even if he said he loves her?

She still felt his kisses as he laid her down beside him. For the first time since they made love, they didn’t initiate any physical intimacy. Instead, they simply stared at one another.

She’s not for feeble minded people, there’s no doubt about it in his mind and if anything, Aleksander was more determined to love her because of it. She tested him in every way possible and while she was incredibly frustrating to argue with, Aleksander refused to give up on her. She’s difficult to understand to ordinary minds, but he isn’t ordinary.

His love will conquer in the end, he truly believed that. He could have continued on like nothing changed between them, but he could not be silent any longer. After all the time he’s spent in vein, all the years he wasted and lives he’s lived, Aleksander never found someone who gave him a reason to believe. Not until he met Y/N.

While she remained silent, stunned by his admission, he spoke of the day he first met Ivan and Fedyor. He spoke of their adventures, of their silly mistakes and she found herself smiling at first. Soon, she was laughing with him, and though she had no courage to admit it yet, she fell asleep thinking about him. Their knees were touching and her heart was racing, but the world never felt so right as it did when she was next to him.

Once on the road, she took the reins once again.

Kirigan ignored the whispers about her riding his horse, choosing to glare them into silence. No one dared to speak of it after.

Stopping a few miles short of their destination, Y/N drew a shuddered breath. The sight is hauntingly beautiful, a nightmare come alive. Swallowing thickly, a faint line formed between her eyebrows as they furrowed.

How could Aleksander be the Black Heretic? How is it possible for him to live so long?

“I’m here”, he whispers in her ear.

Goosebumps rise across the back of her neck as his warm breath dances across her skin. And there he is again, with her when she’s looking for solitude, offering his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on even when she least expects it. The worst thing is that she’s actually becoming dependent on his help and that scares her most of all, because what is she supposed to do when he decides he never did love her and all of it was simply an obsession fueled by her rejection. 

She’s still a novelty to him, that will wear off eventually.

“I’m not afraid”, she remarks, “I’m-“, she pauses in an attempt to find a better word, “Admiring it.”

“Admiring”, he repeats in surprise. “Most people find it absolutely terrifying.” 

She wondered if it frightened him. What would happen if he went in?

Turning her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of his parted lips. She felt ashamed how it caused her heartbeat to quicken, how it ached for a taste.

“I’m not most people”, she reminded him. And he knew that well. The Darkling would never fall for an ordinary woman.

“What I want to know is what went through his mind”, she grips the reigns tighter.

“Of the black heretic?”

Feeling his hands tighten around her waist, she nods. “I wish I knew what led to the creation of the fold. Why did he do it?”

“Maybe he just couldn’t help himself”, Aleksander’s voice is strained, “Maybe he’s just pure evil.”

Leaning the back of her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him. She longed for him, for an earnest conversation with their souls laid bare, but would she live long if she unveiled what her mind’s been tormented by?

“I don’t believe that”, she says softly.

Their eyes meet in an instant, the closeness forcing them both to hold their breath and look at each other silently. Looking at her, he touched her cheek gently with the back of his hand.

“Why give him the benefit of doubt?”

Aleksander’s free hand gently moves along her arm, finding its rightful place at the side of her neck, touching her skin so tenderly she felt blissful and it reminded her of that night where he unraveled her, made her scream in pleasure she never found before.

There was no denying it, Y/N had a weakness for his hand on her neck and his words in her heart, neither of which she had any willpower to refuse, especially not when she couldn’t breathe when he looked at her with such longing, shameful lust and indisputable passion and understanding.

It took everything in her to find the strength to speak again without her voice cracking under the pressure of her own emotions. 

“Because darkness doesn’t equate evil, just as light doesn’t equate good.”

Without a warning, he kissed her fiercely, violently, leaving her raw. She didn’t move away, she didn’t make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover’s touch for when his lips claimed hers, nothing mattered anymore.  

When he broke away, she was breathless and undeniably his.

“What was that for?” She raised an eyebrow, a shadow of a smile forming on her bruised lips.

She shuddered, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip ruthlessly as Aleksander’s breath caressed her skin. It felt so right, too right to resist his advances. She lived for those long nights in their bed, those thick with lust and romance and naked kisses.

Aleksander shrugs, “I wanted to.”

Lips parted, she didn’t know what to do with that. He told her he loves her, that he’d wait for her to love him back and most women would fall at his feet. Something inside her refused to do so. To admit her feelings out loud would be the end of her. 

If she allows herself to love him fully, how could she possibly be the cause of his downfall? 

What would be left of her if she took his love and used it against him in the most cruel way possible?

She’s losing who she is around him, but it hurt so much more to reject his love. Hating him, pretending her heart isn’t a feeble muscle where he resides is exhausting.

Truth is, he doesn't make her feel safe or comfortable as she once believed a man should. He makes her feel like she's teetering at the edge of a cliff and she's getting addicted to that feeling. She’s getting addicted to him – his scent, his touch, his handsome smile and devilish smirk and most of all to the way his darkness drives away her demons.

Love has to come at once, with thunder and lightning like a hurricane that wreaks havoc on your life, to shake you up and break the heart like leaves off trees, to drag it into the abyss - abyss he created. 

She used to fear the dark, but now she found herself running into it.

In that moment, she smiled. 

Perhaps the darkness is not so bad if he’ll be there, holding her hand.

=============================

A/N - So, I literally wrote this in about two hours and I’m about to pass out. I wanna thank you for Eid Mubarak responses and especially for the feedback, I was just reading through them and they made my day so much better. I’m seeing some interesting theories too, some paragraphs you loved or just thoughts about the characters and IT GIVES ME LIFE. I’m so, so grateful for it all.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren  @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl​ 

PART 11

[kyovtani]

𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝒌𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖

✗ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x female reader

✗ genre: smut, like just smut, lit nothing but smut; absolute filth but still classy so it's fílth anyway; established relationship!AU

✗ word count: 4.1k+

✗ warnings: swearing, heavy dumbification and degradation, mean/hard (to soft) dom!kuroo, DD/LG (d*ddy dom / little girl), mentions of jealousy and slight possessive behavior, orgasm denial, p*ssy slapping, some spanking, praising, ch*king, impregnation, some c*m play, car s*x, (a little bit of) cute aftercare

– A/N: Happiest Birthday to my fave scorpio boy in HQ!! This is an old fic of mine which I wrote about a year ago and as I thought about it, Kuroo does fit the concept really well and since I’m a little busy writing smth new, I thought why not reuse this big boy! I hope you guys enjoy this one and please feel free to leave feedback of any kind if you did!!

x all the love, zade.

✗ summary: your boyfriend is sweet, caring and oh so soft, so you decide it’s time to make him lose his composure...

It takes a lot to make Kuroo switch from his soft, caring demeanor to his hard dom persona because after everything, he remains a patient man.

He puts your pleasure above anything else; your body a temple for him to worship and take care of with every part of his being.

However, sometimes, no matter how much you love your sweet, loving boyfriend, you find yourself growing a little bored of his constant softness; your desires going further than just being choked and called kitten.

You want Kuroo to absolutely destroy you, to put it as simple as possible. The guttural desire to have him use you for his own pleasure, claim you in the most intimate ways possible and every now and then your body craves this certain type of pleasure; the one which lays pretty close to pure pain.

Led by your body’s deep desire, you find yourself seeking methods which might not be the morally right ones but at this point you struggle to care the slightest bit about morality.

You set Kuroo losing his composure as your goal, trying your very best without even overthinking the possible consequences and if that means that you have to let a random man flirt the living hell out of you right in front of your boyfriend (who happens to have slight possessive tendencies) during your weekly grocery shopping, then so be it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kuroo watches the blood boiling scene in front of him with his brows furrowed in pure anger; annoyance flooding his usually so soft and calm features and the more time passes, the angrier he gets.

However, Kuroo’s not a dom for nothing.

He keeps his cool, even lets you take the guy's number as he causally ignores the way that stupid fucker lookes at your ass like a fucking pervert, before the two of you eventually finish the shopping without Kuroo commenting on any of it.

At this point you’re just frustrated. Anger and irritation rush through your body at such a fast pace, you feel your head spinning the closer you get to the car and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re currently in a public parking lot, you would have thrown a fit already.

Tired of Kuroo’s oblivion, you finally get yourself to gather every bit of composure you have left and turn around to just tell him about what the fuck you want when he suddenly pushes you against the car door, pressing his strong body into your back.

"What the fuck was that little scene supposed to be, hm, doll?", he hisses into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck and just as usual you love the way his deep and almost unrecognizably raspy voice sends jolts of arousal through your whole body right into your core.

In an instant, you feel your cunt clenching in despair, drenching the fabric of your panties just like that and even though you’re very much aware of your surroundings, you can’t bring yourself to actually give a fuck.

"Good fuck dolls answer when they are being talked to", Kuroo grunts and pulls the lobe of your ear between his teeth, easily eliciting a sweet moan from you before he suddenly wraps his strong fingers around your throat. The cold metal of his rings builds the perfect contrast to the hotness of your skin and with another soft whine, you press your thighs together.

And then, as you gently throw your head back against his shoulder, Kuroo’s hand finds its way around your breast, quickly and incredibly harshly pinching your sensitive nipple between his fingertips to remind you of his – still unanswered – question.

"T-Tetsu, I just-", he doesn’t give you the opportunity to finish your sentence, casually tightening his grip around your throat and cutting off your air supply in one go.

"How the fuck dare you call me by my name right fucking now, you cockhrungy little slut?”, Kuroo’s voice is cold and distant; the anger and disappointment evident in every single one of his words and you can’t believe just how much your pussy starts spasming in response.

“You better address me correctly or last night was the last time you got to cum, did you fucking hear me?", he’s quick to add, the lack of oxygen in your body sending you even deeper into the beautiful haze of pleasure. You barely notice the way you start gasping gasping for air, your lids fluttering shut as you press your thighs even tighter together to get some kind of relief from the heavy pressure on your throbbing cunt.

"Y-Yes, Daddy", you whimper and push your forehead against the cold surface of the door, your body slowly but surely growing overwhelmed by the arousal heating you up.

And in the middle of it all, you’re still incredibly grateful for the lack of company due to the late time of the day because even though you enjoy this with every single pore in your body, you don’t want anyone else to see you like this.

Kuroo lets go of your throat, his hand wandering in between your legs and underneath the waistband of your shorts, just to suddenly cup your cunt. The feeling of his fingers pressing against the drenched fabric of your panties, his rough digits rubbing your needy  clit makes you let out a loud, throaty moan.

"Fucking whore", Kuroo curses, his lips so close to your ear, you feel yourself literally melting into a puddle of despair underneath his tall figure, "I can't believe you let that bastard flirt with you right in front of my eyes", he continues and sucks the skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking harshly before he harshly pulls it in between his teeth.

You whine again, constant mewls of frustration leaving your lips as you try your best to move your hips against his big hand, yet fail miserably.

"I should have fucked you right then and there just to show him who this slutty cunt belongs to", Tetsu groans, rubbing his hard erection against your ass but refusing to to move his fingers on your clit. His words and the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves has you moaning and without even trying to calm yourself down, you reach back to take a hold of Kuroo’s thick hair.

"You would have liked that, am I right, kitty cat? No, wait – you would have loved it. You're literally getting wetter and wetter just at the thought being fucked like a stupid whore", Kuroo scoffs, a hint of disbelief wavering in his voice and without missing a beat, you let out a sound of approval in response.

"I'm not even surprised", he hisses and suddenly, pulling his hand out of your shorts, "at the end of the day, you're nothing but a pathetic whore who thinks with her stupid cunt and nothing but her stupid cunt", and then he lets go of you.

His sudden absence leaves you tumbling against the door with a soft whimper and it's then that you notice the way your whole body is shivering from the overwhelming amount of arousal rushing through your system.

"D-Daddy, please", you whisper helplessly, using every single bit of your energy left to turn around and face him, "I need you", you add and can’t help the soft sob falling past your lips; two tears finding their way down your cheeks as you look into the beautiful face of your lover.

The strictness and distance in his features makes you gulp harshly, his usually so soft and calming eyes filled with nothing but hunger and anger and you let yourself devour this rare sight.

"Oh, look at that", Kuroo pushes his bottom lip into a fake pout with amusement sparkling in the pretty brown around his iris, "my little, cockcrazy whore thinks she has the right to even think about my cock after pulling a show like that”, he lets out a loud, empty chuckle, “how cute and oh, so pathetic, kitty.”

Kuroo takes your chin in between his fingers before he straightens his face and pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Backseat", is all he grunts, "I guess I’ve been a bit too good to you. I haven't fucked some manners into you in some time, have I, pretty kitty?”, you look at him with big, teary eyes and your lips parted before you bring yourself to nod in response to his question.

“Is that why you keep acting up like some needy, filthy little whore? Do you want Daddy to treat you like this, hm? Because you know how much I hate disobedient kittens who flirt with other men, yet choose to do it anyway. Right in front of me, too."

His words stir something deep inside of you, your pussy clenching even harder around nothing as a strong jolt of arousal finds its way right into the pit of your stomach.

You have never been more turned on by anyone or anything and at this point you’ve completely forgotten your surroundings; Kuroo and his huge cock the only thing on your mind as you pull open the door to the backseat of his car.

Kuroo watches you carefully, his eyes roaming the sight of your shaky thighs and the damp spot on the grey material of your shorts before he gets himself to tear his gaze away from you, lifting his head and checking the mostly empty parking lot to make sure nobody is watching the two of you.

He doesn’t like doing it in public; the thought of being caught or watched is definitely alluring and tempting but usually followed by the image of it actually happening and a jolt of slight disgust washing over him.

However this time Kuroo is absolutely ready to make an exception because after remaining patient with you for so long, he knows he won’t be able to keep it up for the entire drive back home.

After making sure nobody is around – his habit of parking all the way at the very end of the parking lot no matter what coming as an advantage – Kuroo also makes his way into the backseat, his gaze instantly finding your glossy eyes before he takes in the oddly satisfying sight of your tear stained cheeks and pouty lips.

You look so vulnerable, so helpless, so pathetic – the thought of completely destroying you in every way possible quickly clouding his mind and the longer he looks at you, the more he just wants to fuck you into oblivion.

But again, Kuroo isn’t a dom for nothing.

With hooded eyes, he silently motions you to turn around, the urge to press your face into the seat taking over every bit of his brain.

You don’t hesitate and obediently move onto your stomach, pulling yourself up onto your knees as your eyes nervously roam the inside of his car.

Your heart is hammering against your rib cage at an unhealthy pace, adrenaline and arousal thrumming inside your ears and clouding your mind in the best way possible.

Oh how you love the effect he has on you.

"Take off your shorts and then finger yourself", Kuroo hisses, casually pushing his sweats as well as boxers briefs down his muscular thigh, exposing his thick, rockhard cock to the cold  yet tensed air in the car and letting out a soft hiss, "I want you to stretch that little cunt of yours", he adds and without even trying to hide it, you turn your head to watch the way Kuroo spits into his palm and then wraps his fingers around his cock.

You let out a loud, desperate moan at the sight of his huge length; the tip red and angry, already leaking so much precum, you feel your mouth watering at the memory of his taste coating your tongue. You gulp harshly the longer you watch him stroke his length like that, your pussy clenching in despair at the mere thought of how good he fills you up.

You hear the loud sound of skin meating skin before a harsh pain starting from your inner thigh rushes through you; a choked out whimper leaving your lips before you can literally feel your ears perking up at the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

"If I have to repeat myself one more fucking time, I swear to God, I won't let you cum for a whole month, kitty", Tetsurou growls, an almost inaudbile moan following his threat and after mumbling a soft apology, you're quick to get rid of your shorts and underwear just as you were told.

You bend your body down and spread your legs, only to feel waves of embarrassment and shame in combination with heavy, hot arousal overwhelming you.

Kuroo has the perfect view on your spasming cunt and you know he is basically devouring you with his eyes, your head spinning at the thought.

"Oh, kitty", he sighs and picks up the pace of his hand, focusing on his tip every now and then to slightly edge himself because even though he usually manages to hide it really well, this whole situation has him a lot more worked up than he had expected.

And now that he actually got to see how much his change in demeanor and choice of words have gotten to you, he is more than just  struggling to keep his cool composure.

Kuroo can’t help but think of the way your slick arousal tastes and feels on his tongue, your sweet moans filling his ears as you part those pretty lips of yours in pleasure.

Kuroo watches the way you slide two of your fingers through your glistening folds, collecting your own juice before aiming for your sensitive, hardened little clit and as soon as you press the tips of your digits against the bundle of nerves, both of you let out a loud moan.

"Don't forget about that tight hole of yours, baby", Tetsurou grunts, throwing his head back as he curses himself for slipping out of his persona even if it wasn't for longer than a second.

You whimper at the sound of your favorite pet name falling past those pretty, swollen lips and choke on that exact whimper when you insert both of your fingers into the warm walls of your cunt.

"That's right, just like that, you little slut", Kuroo’s quick to comment, his other hand pushing the material of your (his) oversized shirt up to reveal the soft flesh of your ass before spanking you softly and then digging his fingers into your skin, "even though your fingers are nothing compared to my cock, we don't want you to to get hurt, right?", and again, he finds himself quickly regretting his choice of words and lack of authority.

But he can't help it. You’re his perfect, sweet faced little angel girl after all; there’s no way he can completely abandon his soft, caring side no matter how bratty you become. Not even thinking about giving you a chance to respond, he reaches out and plants another harsh spank on your slightly sore ass.

You muffle a loud whimper, burying your face in your arm as you try to keep your noises down in hopes of getting to hear the sinful moans of your Daddy; however, Kuroo is quick to notice your little plan.

"You're really trying it tonight, huh, you fucking cumslut? You better start moaning or I'm about to get really, really mad and believe me, you do not want that", Kuroo scolds you, his hand leaving your ass and wrapping around the one buried between your legs before he starts helping you thrust your fingers into your wet pussy.

Kuroo watches the way you clench around your digits with his lips parted in pleasure and arousal tingling at the bottom of his spine and if it wasn't for the punishment he has in mind, he would have fucked your pretty pussy.

Your loud moans, high pitched whimpers and desperate whines start filling the small space of his expensive car, making it even harder for him to stay collected and as he slowly observes the way your thighs slowly start shaking, he pulls your hand away from your drenched cunt with a deep grunt.

"Let's go over the rules really quick, kitty", Kuroo sighs and pulls you to stand on your knees, making sure you don't hit your head  before he pushes you against the back of the passenger seat.

Your head is spinning at an inhumane space and you don’t even know if you can form proper sentences especially at the feeling of Kuroo’'s hot tip prodging at your entrance. However the slap against your sensitive pussy manages to pull you back to reality rather in an instant.

"Green means good, o-orange stands for okay, slightly uncomfortable and r-red is the signal for you to stop, Daddy", you whisper, burying your face in back of the passenger seat’s head part as Kuroo slowly starts pulling you down onto his lap, making you sick onto his big cock painfully slowly.

"Keep it going, you're not done yet, kitty. Come the fuck on, stop disappointing me like this", he groans and throws his head back, the sudden urge to feel your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth making his mind go absolutely empty.

His words ring in your head, your mind foggy and sight slightly blurry as he finally bottoms out and knocks the breath out of your lungs just like that.

You try to stay focused, knowing and very well aware of his order but the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of your tight pussy, tip right against the entrance of your womb has you going mad crazy.

"One tap, if I can't breathe, a pinch if it hurts and two if I want you to stop", you finally manage to mumble and  the moan that leaves your lips when Kuroo slowly starts pulling out of you at those words – is almost animalistic.

"I'd love to praise you but you did make me wait and you actually have the pleasure to feel my cock even after all that shit, so", Kuroo’s voice is slightly strained, your tight walls gripping his huge cock like a vice and no matter how many times he got to experience this feeling, he knows he’s never going to get used to it.

You start moaning shamelessly, not even able to close your mouth as Kuroo rams himself back into you and then finally picks up a steady rhythm. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the seat, face buried in the headrest as you let him use you like a doll.

You love the way Kuroo’s grunts grow louder, his thrusts more impatient and the grip in your hips painfully tight; you love the fact that he is enjoying this as much as you were.

But then, out of nowhere, you realize how quiet he has been ever since he has started fucking you.

Dirty talk is something Kuroo has alway been really into, the lewd words falling past his lips so easily and managing to rile you up every time, that you haven’t even noticed how much you miss it.

"D-Daddy", you moan and gulp harshly, your hand reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around his, "t-talk to me, please", you ask softly and spare a quick glance at your lover; his astonishing beauty sending jolts of warmth through your chest.

Kuroo tsks, a loud scoff leaving his lips before he rolls his eyes and keeps thrusting into you. He is absolutely obsessed with the way your cunt spasmed around his cock, the sight of his huge length disappearing inside of your tight hole edging him more and more.

"P-Please, Daddy", tears flood your eyes rather quickly, the pleasure making you incredibly emotional and the tight feeling in your chest looking for relief as you softly sob into your arm, "I need you to talk to me, please; I'm sorry for acting like a whore", you cry and throw your head back, a choked out sob-moan leaving your throat and even though Kuroo does enjoy the way you are literally falling apart on his cock, he hates seeing you cry like that.

"P-Please call me your pretty girl and t-tell me how much you – fuck – love my cunt, please", you beg shameslessly, the tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving hot trails behind and despite the guilt inside your chest, you slowly start coming closer to your relief; the taste of your upcoming high coating your tongue in the sweetest way possible.

"Ssh, baby", Kuroo finally lets go of his hard mask, his chest tightening with every one of your soft cries and even though he knew he'd break at some point, he still had hoped to keep it up a little longer than usual, "it's okay pretty girl, I got you. I'm here, kitten", he whispers and as his soft voice fills your ears, a loud sob leaves you, followed by a tiny moan when his fingers start drawing circles into your neglected clit.

"Come on, angel, I want you to cum", he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he starts thrusting into you even harder, "show me who this sweet cunt belongs to", your lover's oddly assuring words are the last straw and without another second passing by, you let go and feel the coil in your core snap; shoving you head first into your high.

Several waves of pleasure hit you, your orgasm literally ruining you to a point where you struggle to take proper breaths.

Kuroo helps you ride out your high by slowing down the movements of his hands and hips, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he tries to handle your constant clenching.

"Cum inside of me, Daddy", you whisper, exhaustion dripping from every single one of your words yet you still let out soft little whimpers to encourage your pretty faced boyfriend, "want you to fuck your baby into my belly", you add quickly and the way literal innocence is coating your voice is what throws Kuroo over the edge.

Your cunt continues to spasm around him, making sure he cums as hard as you did and then, after his whole body halts its movements, he cums inside of you; painting your warm walls in several shades of white.

Kuroo quickly pulls out of you, the loss of contact and sudden feeling of emptiness has you whimpering slowly but you instantly go silent when he pulls you into his arms, pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck before he slowly starts caressing your naked thighs and massages your scalp.

A couple of minutes pass by, the exhaustion overcoming the two of you and when Kuroo notices the way your lips grow heavier by the minute, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you into a passionate kiss. A lazy clash of teeth, your tongue slowly entering his mouth and of course he is quick to swallow your spit, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Please don't ever do that again, my love", he whispers against your parted lips, his thumb grazing your cheeks and then your neck, "if you want me to be hard on you, there's no need to flirt with other guys, you just have to tell me, okay? You know I will do anything to make you happy", he mumbles and you quickly reply with a soft hum of approval.

"I love you, Daddy", you sigh, burying your face in his chest as your lips stretch into a big smile when you hear him mumble, "I love you, too, pretty girl."

[fanmoose12]

Levi ignored the formal greetings and salutes of the soldiers he passed as he made his way through the barracks. His mind was focused on one thing and one thing only. He had to get to the infirmary.

Apparently, Hange had decided to start her experiments bright and early that day. So early that the sun had barely begun to rise. Not long after, a titan's arm broke free from its restraints and swung at Hange while her back was facing away. With no time to react, the full force of the attack had her instantly flying through the air and only stopping when her body met a wall. Levi didn't comprehend much of the details after that. He simply threw on his uniform as is, not bothering a second glance in the mirror.

He bit back a chill as he entered the courtyard, not knowing whether it was from the sudden cold winter air or from his own nerves. It was only then that he realized he had left without throwing on a coat.

When he entered the infirmary, he immediately noticed a small group of people huddled together. Hange's squad, Mike, Nanaba, and Erwin along with a nurse Levi didn't recognize. They all spoke in hushed whispers and, as if on cue, all turned to look at him. His pace suddenly slowed, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach at their ominous gazes. He hesitated to approach.

After a moment, Erwin resumed speaking to the nurse and exchanged a few more words before she finally walked away. Erwin then dismissed the rest of the group as they shuffled away, avoiding eye contact as they passed Levi.

Levi swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and approached Erwin. "How's Hange?" He asked, hoping the tremor in his voice wasn't obvious.

"Levi," Erwin began, his voice stern and his jaw tight. "How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

"Just this morning." He answered.

Erwin's brow furrowed and Levi could see the wrinkles in his face. "I will ask again. How long have you known about Hange's condition?"

The question was puzzling. What kind of answer was Erwin looking for? Levi felt like a child being chastised. He was coming in blind to this whole situation, only knowing the information that Moblit had told him earlier.

"Moblit came by my room about twenty minutes ago and told me about the accident. I came as fast as I could."

Erwin's eyes stared intently at Levi, as if he was trying to look through him instead of at him. It was then that Levi noticed the small beads of sweat lining his forehead.

Levi's heart rate quickened. Something wasn't right. "Erwin, what the hell is going on?"

What was Erwin trying to get out of him? What did he know that Levi didn't? Was Hange sick? Surely he would've noticed, right? Then again, they hadn't seen much of each other recently. Hange had been busy testing a new theory involving the evaporation of titan blood and Levi had been assigned to oversee the development of the new training grounds.

She and Levi had grown close. Immensely close. Too close for Levi's comfort sometimes. They had become a bonded pair in all forms; emotionally, physically, and mentally. They knew each other's strengths and short-comings, their pet peeves and bad habits, their fears and hopes, the way each other tasted and smelled, how their bodies felt intertwined, the rhythm of each other's heartbeats. Hange had become the one thing Levi never wanted; someone to lose.

As if Erwin could sense his inner turmoil, his shoulders dropped and his eyes relaxed. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Nobody's told me a damn thing."

Erwin released a tired sigh. "Hange is alive but she suffered a concussion. The nurse wants to keep her here for a few days to monitor her once she wakes up."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"I'm not sure but this could have been much worse. In more ways than you realize."

Levi could feel his frustration reaching its peak. "Why not just come out and tell me whatever the hell it is you're hiding?"

Erwin just shook his head. "It's not for me to tell. We'll continue this at a later time. You may see her if you'd like."

Levi decided not to further the discussion and made his way towards the room. Once his hand had reached the doorknob, he heard Erwin's voice behind him. "Levi, once you're finished, meet me in my office. We have much to discuss."

Levi's hand tightened around the doorknob. He didn't like being left in the dark but he was humanity's strongest, surely he could handle whatever news Erwin was refusing to disclose.

He shook the thought from his mind, wanting to be solely focused on Hange. He readied himself for the sight and pushed open the door.

Hange appeared natural as she slept in the hospital bed before him. Her expression was peaceful with the usual stress lines in her face relaxed. Her glasses rested on a table next to the bed with her uniform and winter coat thrown over a wooden chair. She had been changed into a hospital gown with a white bandage wrapped around her head.

"That was an extreme stunt to pull just to get some sleep don't you think, four eyes?" Levi mused.

He examined the bandage and noticed a minimal amount of blood from a scrape on the side of her head. He wasn't sure what the worry was about. Concussions were a normal injury for most soldiers, especially new recruits who were practicing with their ODM gear.

Still, Erwin had mentioned her "condition" which meant there was something Levi was missing, something he wasn't seeing.

"Sorry about this, Hange." He said as he grabbed the blanket on top of her and tossed it to the side.

Before the blanket had even touched the ground, Levi had stumbled away from Hange's bedside until his back was forced against the wall. His heart beat hard against his chest, he struggled to catch his breath and felt as if he was suffocating, his knees trembled beneath him, and his mind could not comprehend the sight before him.

Levi looked around the room as if an explanation would appear before him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her again. He was almost thankful that she was asleep.

The sight of her winter coat suddenly drew his attention. Like most things, Hange was too engrossed in her research and often careless when it came to her own health. Levi would often find her outside in the snow, watching over her precious titans, wearing nothing more than her usual brown jacket. She never bundled herself properly and always claimed she felt fine despite the obvious signs of her red nose, chapped lips, chattering teeth, and shivering body. And as expected, Levi would be the one to have to care for her when she fell ill.

Although, come to think of it, this was the first year that Hange had actually been adamant about wearing her coat. Each time Levi saw her, she had it buttoned around her, refusing to take it off even when indoors. And if he thought about it further, he realized that it always looked a size too big for her.

The realization suddenly came crashing on him as all the pieces fell into place. The air felt as if it had been knocked out of him and his head was spinning. If it weren't for the wall supporting him, he's sure he would have collapsed.

It didn't feel real. It couldn't be real.

It was stupid, he knew, the evidence was right in front of him but he just had to confirm it for himself. He looked towards her still sleeping face and then very slowly trailed his eyes down her body until he was staring at a small bump on her torso.

He steadied his knees and pushed himself away from the wall. It felt like an eternity before he was finally able to move his legs and reach her bed side. With a shaky hand and a deep ragged breath, he outstretched his arm until it rested gently on her swollen abdomen. He ignored the water stinging the corner of his eyes and forcefully blinked the sensation away.

It was as if his mind was not his own as he began to slowly stroke small circles on top of her belly. As he was getting used to the feeling, he felt a sudden pressure hit against his head. He immediately froze his movements and waited. A few seconds passed and there it was again, a small push to his hand.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and could feel his lips curve into a smile. He was feeling a kick. The being inside of Hange was making it self known to him.

He became overwhelmed with an abundance of conflicting emotions bombarding him all at once. He had so many thoughts, questions, ideas, fears. At that moment all he could do was reach for her hand and relish in the comfort of her warmth beneath his palm. He needed her here with him.

And then a new realization chilled him to his core.

She would eventually awaken...wouldn't she?

"Hange." He whispered desperately. "Please, wake up."

omg, you got me so worried!! i thought hange lost the baby, but whew! i'm so glad the baby is alright! and your writing is top notch! if you ever think of posting it and maybe adding a second part...... hmu?

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 13~

Warning! Sexual content below!

Chapter 12

*

*

*

---------Part 1---------

Kurama: “I must have been mistaken in thinking you were in any way interesting.”

(Even though he didn’t use Kotodama.)

(I can’t move.)

No matter how close I feel to him, I’m sure I’ll never get used to the intimidation that Kurama gives off.

I knew it in my bones.

Kurama: “Understanding is an emotion that does not contribute strength. Will you still be able to think like that when you’re overtaken?”

Yoshino: "Wait..."

He's still intimidating, but he also smells dangerous, like an aphrodisiac.

With his voice and his eyes dominating the air, Kurama casually exposes my breasts.

Kurama: "Are you scared now?"

Kurama sneers while watching me tear up in fear and shame.

Yoshino: "....not...scared...."

Kurama: "Really."

My voice was trembling, and I'm sure he can see through me.

As if to prove the point, the red of Kurama's eyes darkened like a beast's ready to catch its prey.

Yoshino: "Mmmm....ahhh....."

A moment later, his lips pressed against my bare breast.

He then pulls away, leaving behind a faint pain and an even sweeter aftertaste.

Yoshino: "Ahh...Haa..."

My eyes watered with shame as I let out a lustful moan.

Kurama: "Reward and punishment are the same to you, isn't it?"

Yoshino: "....This is terrible."

I felt like crawled up the cliff to get as close to Kurama, but then he in turn pushed me back down.

Kurama: "Don't forget this humiliation. I've given you the freedom to speak your mind and listened to your wishes, but you aren’t allowed to enter my heart."

(Mm...)

I wriggled as he traced the skin where he had kissed me earlier.

I saw a red mark glowing right where he sucked and I bit my lips in embarrassment.

Kurama: "This face suits you much better."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Don't say any more....(+4/+4)

2. Don't do this to me again...

3. I'll shout next time...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "Don't say any more...."

Kurama: "It would be easier if you'd accept the facts, but if that happens, I won't be rewarding myself with this lovely face of you."

Finally, after stroking my hair, Kurama steps back.

Yoshino: "...! Wait!"

He walks out of my room, without looking back.

(What should I do now?)

................

Kurama: "Benkei, give that sake."

Benkei: "Huh? That makes it the third bottle."

Benkei, who was apparently cooking dinner, looked at Kurama with a scowl as he barged in.

Benkei: "All sake that Sueharu bought for us is now in your stomach."

---------Part 2--------

Benkei: "All sake that Sueharu bought for us is now in your stomach."

Kurama: "I want more. Don't you have any spares? Hurry up. Also makes snacks for me."

Benkei: "Make your own snacks. I’m not your maid. Also, these are Yoshitsune-sama's midnight snacks. Don't steal from these."

Kurama: "Whatever belongs to Yoshitsune, belongs to me too."

Benkei: "Does that logic applies to every single thing? ....Fine, I'll take it with a grain of salt."

Even as he says this, Benkei big hands were moving quickly, sorting out Kurama's portion and also simultaneously making dinner at the same time.

Kurama leaned against the wall, looking sideways at him.

Benkei: ".......? Kurama, what happened?"

Kurama: "What do you mean 'what'? Don't ask vague questions?"

Benkei: "You're not acting like yourself. You look like you're on the edge. Hmmm....perhaps the negotiations with the silversmith didn't go well?"

Kurama: "No, that went well."

Benkei: "Really? That's good. ..................Is it about Yoshino?"

Kurama: "Why does that woman's name keep coming up?"

Benkei: "As expected."

Kurama stares at Benkei, who was chopping the vegetables.

Kurama: "..................Now I get it."

Benkei: "Huh? What?"

Benkei, who was slicing the radishes into chunks, stopped and looked back at Kurama.

Kurama: "That woman is my-----"

Benkei: "......"

Kurama: "My natural enemy."

Benkei: "Are you seriously that clueless!?!?"

Benkei slammed the knife against the chopping board as if he has given up.

.......................

(It's been few days since that night and things have gotten kind of awkward with Kurama.)

While I was watching the small pond in the garden under the sunset...

Yoshino: "Kurama no longer comes to my room or calls me...."

I was hurt and angry that day because I was humiliated.

(But it would be very uncomfortable for me to go to him myself.)

(But if I think calmly, I am a prisoner of the Rebels and it makes sense that I should be keeping my distance.)

(But.....)

Just when my thoughts were going in circles-----

Yoshino: "!!!"

Suddenly black thing comes down from the sky and lands right in front of me.

Kurama: "----Found you!"

----------Part 3--------

Kurama: "----Found you!"

Yoshino: "Kurama!? What's wrong?"

There is a smoldering impatience behind those always cold eyes.

I knew intuitively that something was wrong, and my heart beats fast.

(----What happened?)

Kurama: "Come with me."

Yoshino: "Huh?"

Kurama pulls my hand without giving me an answer and I fell into his chest.

Kurama: "I need you."

...................

(M-m-myyy....head....sp-spinning....!)

(I was also forced to carry my medicine box.)

Yoshino: "Umm...why are we in front of Heikichiro-san's house....?"

Kurama: "Go inside."

When he pushed me, I entered the small hut and-----

Yoshino: "....! Heikichiro-san!?"

Heikichiro: "Nnn....."

I ran up to the slender old man, who was slumped on the floor.

Yoshino: "Please stay strong! Can you hear me?"

Heikichiro: "It's you...."

(His pulse is there. He's a bit dazed, but still responding to my calls....)

Kurama: "When I visited, this man was already lying on the floor."

His expression remained almost unchanged, but an unseen frustration burned in Kurama's eyes.

Kurama: "----You're a pharmacist, right?"

Yoshino: "I-I am."

Kurama: "This man has yet to complete my order. Make sure he lives long enough. If you can't make him, I'll put out the fire off your life."

(......! Under such heavy pressure I have to treat this man?)

The murderous glint in his eyes made me gulp.

(But then again...)

Yoshino: "....First of all, you have to know something."

I replied back, while I untied Heikichiro-san's obi.

Kurama: "What?"

Yoshino: "I can't guarantee a person's life. But I promise I'll do my best. Also Kurama, please help me. Let's work on this together."

Kurama: ".....!"

(Ah......)

Suddenly the air around Kurama became lighter and the tension that had stung my skin was released.

Kurama: "Say what do you want me to do."

Yoshino: "Now, can you build a fire and make some lukewarm water? Also, can you find me a clean towel?

Kurama: "All right."

--------Part 4-------

Yoshino: "Can you find me a clean towel?

Kurama: "All right."

Immediately after nodding, Kurama takes the tub and heads out to the well.

Heikichiro: *Coughs*

Yoshino: “If you feel nauseous, don’t hold back, just throw up....”

I changed his posture and rubbed his back.

Yoshino: “I’ll make the hot water right away, and then we’ll examine your symptoms.”

As I took care of him, I checked for the numbness in his limbs, blurred vision and nausea.

Heikichiro-san’s consciousness slowly becomes clearer.

Yoshino: “Thank god! Looks like now you’re feeling better.”

Kurama: “Did you cure him?”

Kurama, who had finished helping and was watching the treatment intently beside me, leaned forward.

Yoshino: “What happened was that  Heikichiro-san’s pre-existing condition got worse due to overwork. It’s not that easy, we have to let him rest over a period of days for him to fully recover.”

Kurama: “.......What a fragile creature.”

Heikichiro: “Wait...you have...”

Heikichiro-san blinked few times and then stared at Kurama.

Heikichiro: “....you have wings....”

(Damn!! I was completely absorbed in treating the old man that I forgot Kurama didn’t hide his wings...)

Heikichiro: “Are you a demon? Are here to take my soul?”

Kurama: “Who wants a soul of a shriveled old man like you?”

Yoshino: “Kurama, No!”

I tried to stop him, while Kurama replied with an annoyed expression. But----

Kurama(glares): “And how dare you overworked? Don’t you fragile creatures know your place?”

Kurama started scolding Heikichiro-san if he couldn’t contain his frustration.

Heikichiro: “I...got strangely overpowered when you said you were looking forward for my work.”

Kurama: “......?”

Heikichiro: “He comes by everyday to see the progress of my work and observe what I do.”

(That’s why  Heikichiro-san overworked!?)

Heikichiro: “I am an eccentric craftsman. But the fact that you, in all your arrogance, are so eagerly awaiting my work...makes me irresistible happy. I was happy seeing his red eyes sparkling when he looked at my fingertips.”

(I think I understand what Heikichiro-san is trying to say.)

(Kurama’s words and attitude have nothing impure in them, and that’s why it strikes people’s hearts.)

(Even if you instinctively perceive them to be frightening.)

Heikichiro: “God or demon, it doesn’t matter. For me it’s all about the pride and joy of being a craftsman.”

Kurama: “...........Crazy old man.”

Kurama raises an eyebrows at Heikichiro-san, who breaks off into a few tired words.

Kurama: “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

--------Part 5--------

Kurama: “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

(Kurama...)

(I’ve never seen Kurama looks so confused before.)

Heikichiro: “Haha,,I can’t die that soon. I have to build up quickly. Also, Yoshino-san. Thank you for saving this old man’s life.”

Yoshino: “Thanks to Kurama for bringing me here.”

Kurama(clueless): “............”

Heikichiro-san and I smiled at each other, while Kurama looked at us with a complicated expression.

...............

(It’s already night.)

Kurama: “I think it’s easier to fly back home.”

Yoshino: “It’s not like I’m in a hurry. Also I feel fine walking. I also think it would be a problem if someone notice us.”

Kurama: “How annoying.”

(Maybe it’s Kurama’s way of conceding that he’s still walking.)

Yoshino: “I’m really glad that Heikichiro-san is okay. Thank you for bringing me here, Kurama.”

Kurama: “..........”

(What’s wrong?)

Yoshino: “Anyways, I’m also thinking of asking Yoshitsune-sama if I can continue to make house calls for Heikichiro-san. If he refuses, I’ll tell another pharmacist to check on his condition. So...”

Kurama: “----I see.”

Yoshino: “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Kurama: “No, it’s enough. It’s just...the reason why that man fell, is still a mystery to me.”

Kurama who spit out the words quietly stares at me.

I gasped at the burning heat in his eyes.

Kurama: “I don’t understand....humans at all.”

Yoshino: “What? But Kurama always visits him, right? You were worried about him and that’s the reason, why you brought me here, right?”

(Kurama placed more value on  Heikichiro-san’s life than the unfinshed product. That’s why he brought me here, right?)

Kurama: “I can’t understand warm feelings such as worrying. However, that man’s hand are the hands that create brilliance. It would be a shame to lose them......and today, your hands saved that man.”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

The line of sight that didn’t show contempt or ridicule shoots right through my heart.

Kurama: “Yoshino. I’m reassessing your value. Apparently, you have a strength that I don’t know about.”

(Ah....)

Kurama’s warm fingertips, touches my cheeks, and I slowly slide my face into his palm.

Kurama: “....I’m proud of you.”

Chapter 14

[vickyskpopkingdom]

Baekhyun :: working blues

request: Hii! Im rlly into baekhyun's new album rn and i was hoping u could write a fluff where ur just having a rough day and he sings u to sleep pls!! Rlly like ur fluff writes btw 💕💕

thank you so much for your kind words! i haven't written about exo in a long, long time but i hope that you still like what i came up with!

warnings: overworking, stress

1.8k words, gn reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes you felt like the world was collapsing on you. The weight on your shoulders got too heavy at times and you were just tired. So tired, so tired. Today was one of those days.

The work you had to do didn't seem to end. At this point you couldn't even count how many e-mails you had answered, how many texts you have read, how many calls you made and how many words you have written. Your eyes were so tired they started to water at the sight of the bright screen of your laptop in front of you. When had it become so dark around you? Hasn't it been noon just a few minutes ago?

A quick glance through your bedroom window and towards the clock on your wall told you something different. It was already eight p.m., the streetlamp outside your window was the only source of light right now other than your laptop. With a sigh you leaned back into your chair and tried stretching your arms as well as your neck and legs. Every joint in your body seemed to make a protesting cracking noise and as you tried to massage your neck, your muscles burned with protest.

You sighed again. Maybe you really should invest in one of those fancy office chairs that claimed to be a blessing for your whole body. At the thought of the price however you shook that thought out of your head.

Standing up you got through another round of stretching your whole body and decided to check out the kitchen for food. It only hit you as the dim light of the fridge illuminated your face that you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. Empty shelves greeted you back and your stomach grumbled angrily.

You tried hard not to scream out of frustation. Nothing wanted to work your way these days and you were honestly so tired of it. For some time you were able to tell yourself that everything would work out and that you would find your working blues again but that was yet to happen. Quietly you closed the fridge door again, sliding down against it to the floor.

The project you had been assigned at the start of last week was way more complicated than you had anticipated, the sources you were thinking of using turned out to be a scam. Adding to that the promotion you had been so sure of getting had been given to someone else and while you could understand that they deserved it, you were sure that you would have deserved it as well. Not only was your fridge emtpty but you had been neglecting your healthy eating habits for quite some time now, which only frustated you more.

And today all of these things seemed to add up all at once, crushing you under their weight.

When was the last time you really had a good nights sleep? You had worked late and gotten up early, eating only bits and pieces of instant food, sitting at your desk all day and falling into bed only to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Right now you were fighting to keep the tears at bay but the merry-go-round in your head kept spinning, piling up more and more worries.

When was the last time you had seen your friends? When was the last time you even properly talked to them? You were always telling them that you were busy with work when they asked to hang out. They never pressured you to still come with them but you knew that they would love to see you again even for a few hours. Yet you still could not get yourself to take their invitations, the thought of your unfinished project sitting in the back of your head constantly.

When was the last time your boyfriend--?

Just as the tears started flowing down your face the doorbell rang. Its sound surprised you so much that you jumped up, your heart beating fast. The clock in your kitchen read nine p.m. One hour went by while you were staring holes in the walls and drowned in your thoughts.

You couldn't really think of a reason why someone would visit you this late, on a weekday nonetheless. But not answering the door wasn't an option either, you would just start to worry about 'what-ifs'. So you decided to take a peak through the peephole in your door.

Your heart picked up its pace at you saw a familiar face illuminated by the light of a smartphone-screen, lookin worried and confused. Fumbling with your keys you opened the door and the person looked up from their phone.

"Hey Bambi, are you okay?"

Baekhyuns voice filled your ears as soon as he looked into your face. He eyed you up and down, making sure you were alright. "I texted and tried to call you for at least two hours now. There was no reaction from you whatsoever."

As you allowed him to step into your home, you sighed. "Sorry, I threw my phone across the room at one point and didn't pick it up again."

Your boyfriend chuckled as he got rid of his shoes and coat, placing both neatly onto their usual spots in the entrance of your flat. Just the sight of him, doing everyday things, smiling, talking was an instant boost for your mood. Now that he was here you fully realized just how much you had missed his presence.

"Why would you throw your phone?", Baekhyun questioned.

You made a dismissive move with your hand, not wanting to talk about the infuriating call you had to make a few hours ago. "I was frustrated", you only said.

Together you and Baekhyun made your way towards your bedroom. Just as you stepped into the room and turned on the lights you remembered the state you left your working place in. But it was too late to make him turn around now. Quickly you tried to tidy up the place a little bit, hiding the traces of your overworking as Baekhyun cleared his throat to gain your attention.

"Are you drowning yourself in work again?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't the first time he had seen you piling up work on your shoulders and ending up being unable to do anything else. Back then you had promised him to take better care of yourself or at least take real breaks once in a while to catch a breath.

"Maybe...."

Now it was Baekhyuns turn to sigh. "Did you eat today? And before you answer i mean 'eat a proper meal'."

Picking up your phone from the floor you sat yourself down on the bed. "No, not really. It's just this project..."

Baekhyun shook his head at you, but you still noticed the small smile on his face. "You are such a hard-working person. But you need to allow yourself some time to breathe, you know?"

His voice was calm, sounding like music to your ears. Even after all this time you had been in a relationship with him you were still surprised by how easily he could make you relax.

"Yes, I know."

"And since I am such a caring and awesome boyfriend", he said, rustling with a plastic bag you only now noticed in his hands, "I brought you some food."

As you looked into his smiling face you couldn't help but ask yourself how you got so lucky.

The meal was good, it was your favorite and having Baekhyun by your side made you feel even more grounded. It almost felt like you gained new energy after a week of complete exhaustion and constant worrying. While you were eating the both of you talked about everything and nothing, catching up, telling stories and sharing your newest netflix suggestions.

The evening proceeded and your eyes landed on the clock again. It was late, if you were still caught up in your workaholic-lifestyle you would have already been asleep right now. However surprisingly you currently were not even close to worrying about getting up the next morning. What bothered you most right now was that this evening would end and eventually you would have to go to sleep an wake up in the morning, getting back to your work.

Baekhyun seemed to notice the frown on your face sooner than you could hide it again. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "This is nice, simply being together with you. But you probably have to leave soon and then tomorrow I have to work on this stupid project again."

"I can stay the night, if you want me to of course."

"I didn't want to pressure you into--"

"You didn't", he interrupted you, before you could end the sentence and feel like you made him stay against his will, "I actually wanted to ask if I could stay anyways. Tomorrow is one of my free days. I could even keep you company while you work."

Your chest felt warm at his words. "I would love that."

Soon you two found yourselves back in your bed, bodies entangled with each other, quiet breaths sounding through the room. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but as soon as you closed your eyes all you could think of was the next morning, the project, the unanswered emails, the calls.

"Still can't calm down, Bambi?", Baekhyun whispered in your ear, while slowly stroking your hair.

With closed eyes you shook your head. "I can't take my mind off of work."

The next thing you heard was quiet humming coming from Baekhyun. You could feel the vibration of his vocal chords against your own body. His voice really was a blessing for everyones ears, he could carry emotions through singing that you weren't even able to put into words. His songs made you happy, they made you cry occasionally, they made you feel calm or made you miss something you didn't even knew existed. It was a gift.

His humming transformed into words, calmly sang into the otherwise dark and quiet room.

It's a night filled with a single stream of light

You're my timely rain, Bambi

I don't want to waste even a second of this night just

being the two of us

As you listened to his singing, you could finally feel your muscles relaxing, your brain calming down and your whole body drifting towards sleep. There were no worrysome thoughts turning your mind upside down anymore, there was only Baekhyun and his voice filling your head with images of your favorite places, your favorite memories and him. The warmth of his body under the blankets made you feel safe, at home. This was were you belonged.

And while Baekhyun continued with the song you fell into a deep sleep, one that you deserved after all the work you had done. You already knew that you found your blues again. Everything would work out again, just like you had always thought yourself. And all you had needed was just a small push in the right direction from the right person.

I don't want to wake up from this dream, keep this tempo

I hope the sun doesn't rise while I keep my eyes closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really hope you enjoyed this one! It was nice to write something again but I do feel like i am a little bit out of training i guess haha

and also if you feel like the reader in this scenario, please remember that there will be better days & that life is more than working day to day! take a break, make some tea, get some fresh air and get back to your work with a fresh mind; you can do it!!

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst, manipulation, panic attack, graphic violence/murder, attempted kidnapping

Word count: 5,633

Author’s note: Oh man, I am SO excited for this chapter, you guys ALSAKDFNDJFDJSNF it's a doozy and I really hope you like it!!

WARNING this one is graphic and violent, heads up! Graphic depiction of a corpse, violence, blood, attempted kidnapping, panic attacks.

Please read the warning above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

- Part Eleven -

You felt dizzy. It was happening again. Everything felt like it was spinning as guilt and anxiety started to flood your brain, drowning you, making you gasp for air.

Your lungs couldn’t seem to pull it in fast enough. Short, quick breaths burned your throat as you desperately grabbed for something, anything to steady yourself. Your fists closed around the lapel of Joker’s vest where he sat beneath you, still inside of you.

His painted face came into focus as you blinked your eyes and panic struck you like lightning, jolting you to scramble to move off of his lap. But he was too quick. His hands firmly gripped your waist and the room tipped backwards as he wrestled both of you to the floor. Strands of his faded green hair hung in a curtain over your face where he held it in place, inches below his own. Puffs of your heavy breath washed over his face, his expression indecipherable as always, only an inkling of anger visible in his brow. He kept you still on your back where he knelt on top of you and flickered his gaze over your face. The cold rush of adrenaline in your veins began to subside and you could feel pressure between your legs. He’d managed to stay inside of you, giving you no room to push him out. Your heart fluttered and eyes shut as you forcefully tried to wriggle your way out from underneath him, but it was as if you weighed nothing in comparison to the strength of his grip. Despite the futility of it, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying to fight him, a fire burning in your chest, until he suddenly spoke.

“Look at me,” he growled, his gravelly voice rumbling in his throat, and your eyes flew open.

He stared down at you with an intensity that froze you to your core. You stared back with wide eyes and your mouth dropped open but remained incapable of making any sound. His eyes looked as though they’d grown darker, peering past your skin, your bones, to gaze at the very thoughts that relentlessly tore your mind to pieces.

“The dominos, my dear, they’re gonna fall. It’s al-ready started. One by one, they’re gonna fall and they’re not gonna stop.”

Your chest felt so tight. His words stirred up the flames that had ignited so quickly, burning you, pushing you to fight. What were you fighting? His hands held the sides of your face tightly as you stared into the blackness of his eyes that remained fixed on yours. It was the only thing keeping you grounded as you felt yourself nearing the edge of an endless blackhole within your mind, its pull growing stronger. How much more of this could you take before you let go?

Joker slowly nodded his head, sensing the changes happening behind your eyes. Of course, he knew what was happening. That icy drip you felt down your back, that sudden shock driving you to action without any direction, that twinge of remorse. It told you to run, to fight, to hide from this feeling that was growing in your chest, squeezing your insides, pushing you closer to that edge. But he held you there, forcing you to face it.

His voice dropped lower as he continued, “Don’t forget our little deal. You gave your control over to me. Dontcha remember, doll?”

You tried to breathe. You tried to calm the anxiety threatening to suffocate you as your body began to tremble on the floor. He wasn’t going to let you run. The flood of chemical signals saturating your body, tormenting your mind, told you to run. But is that what you wanted? It’s what your body was telling you but, is that what you wanted?

He’d rendered you unable to answer that question. Your heart pounded relentlessly as that thought sank down to your stomach. He knew this would happen. He gave you something he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. How did he know? You never even knew it yourself. He saw something in your eyes you didn’t know was there. He used it too. He lead you straight into a trap you couldn’t have guessed would go this far, unable to see past his alluring figure, looming over you, reaching out to touch you, give you more of you’d come to crave so badly. And you’d let yourself fall for it again.

You couldn’t recognize all of the emotions you were feeling, all twisted together, but one stood out, creeping up from behind you and prickling your skin. Anger. Your breath quickened, puffing his hair out of our face before you struggled against his grip once again and his hands left your face to grab your wrists as you tried to push him off. It was like you were pushing against a brick wall. His fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists, his hold sure to leave marks on your skin, and a smacking of his lips brought your attention back to his face to see his gaze had remained unbroken. It wasn’t fair, the way he made you feel. So conflicted and guilty, but so alive. You couldn’t stay away from him, he made sure of that. Tears began to burn behind your eyes, but you couldn’t let yourself cry in front of him again.

“I… I hate you.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, the sound of them distant, as if it wasn’t you speaking them. They were just venom, spat desperately in his face in an attempt to fool the predator that his prey was stronger than she actually was.

The straight line of his mouth curved into a haughty smirk before he replied, “Mmm, I guaran-tee that you don’t.”

But he can’t be fooled.

You took quick breaths in and out as you scowled at him until the heat bubbling up inside of you reached your mouth and you shouted, “Just leave me alone!”

��We both know you don’t want that.”

His quip only infuriated you further. Your fists tightened and the pressure in your forehead made tears come to your eyes as your chest shook with staggered breath. You couldn’t think, reduced to a knotted bundle of frustration, wound up so tight it hurt. All you could do was scream. You cursed at him, shouted, yelled, it burned in the back of your throat and echoed in your head, releasing the anger that squeezed it out of you until his hand clapped over your mouth and your eyes tore open.

“Careful now, sweetheart. You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

A sharp breath in through your nose carried the scent of greasepaint that always stained his fingers and the room suddenly felt eerily calm. The tv was still on, the sound of a commercial for Gotham Savings and Loan drifting past your ears, just audible over the sound of your breath mixing with his. It was as if the fire in your chest had been doused with water, leaving only smoldering embers where flames had just been burning up your insides. You let your breath out slowly and your muscles released, too fatigued to hold on. You could see the tension in his jaw disappear when he felt you relax beneath him, keeping your eyes fixed on his, the crushing darkness you’d seen within them just a shadow.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” he said in an unexpectedly relaxed tone, raising his eyebrows. “You aren’t as helpless as you think you are.”

Your brow furrowed as you continued to stare up at his face, your thoughts not yet cleared from beneath a layer of ash.

His tongue flicked out over his lip and now that he was sure he had your full attention, he continued, “Ev-ery-thing is balanced, a steadfast but delicate system. All it takes is one little push to bring it all crashing down.”

He blinked at you and slowly moved his hand from your mouth as you blinked back. Why did he always have to speak like this? Always so cryptic and steeped in maddening ambiguity. Against your better judgement, you voiced your frustration to his face.

“I never know what you’re talking about.”

You flinched when he suddenly burst into a loud fit of laughter, its pitch ringing in your ears and sending a shiver down your sides. He swallowed it back in muffled giggles before managing to speak, “Is that so?” Then his breath slowed, his voice steadily dropped as his grin faded and he looked you in the eyes and said, “I think you do, doll. You do but you just don’t wanna listen.”

The twinge in your stomach pushed you to try to argue, opening your mouth before you even knew what to say. But he was quicker, he was always quicker. He leaned in even closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he spoke.

“Doesn’t it get old playing the victim? Hm? You know we’re far past that by now, sweetheart.”

Like a switch had been flipped, you froze beneath him once again. He knew too well how to get what he wanted from you. Arousal, obedience, fear. He was always right. You could tell yourself that you didn’t know something like this would happen, but that doesn’t make it true. You’d already come to this conclusion so many times, but it just so hard to accept it. Your mouth closed and you fell silent as your eyes caught sight of the bite mark you’d left on his neck. You knew. You knew and you chose to ignore it. You knew and you liked it.

Joker kept his eyes on yours, obvious that he knew he’d gotten through to you, and slowly nodded. Then let go of your wrists before he suddenly stood up, pulling out of you and taking the breath from your lungs along with him. All at once, his heat and pressure were taken away in an unexpected shock to your system, leaving his cum slowly dripping down between your legs where you laid naked on the floor. It had to have been on purpose. This cold, empty, vulnerability. You wanted to hate him, but you couldn’t. Just more evidence of the power he held over you, the heat you could never seem to get enough of. You’d been frustrated by it. It bothered you at first, but that was changing, twisting into something else. No matter what he did to you, all you wanted was to submit to him. No one had ever left you feeling this empty, this hungry to do it all again.

After tucking himself into his pants, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes then kept two from the pack in his lips. Then he held the flame of a lighter from another pocket to their tips until they glowed in the dim light from the television that was cast over his body where he stood over you. Kneeling down, he took a deep inhale from both cigarettes before plucking one from his lips and placing it between yours as smoke curled into the air from the corners of his mouth.

“You did well, doll. I’ll see ya when the next domino falls, hm?”

The front door shut as you stared up at the ceiling, holding the cigarette between your fingers after taking a deep drag, trying to suffocate the butterflies that had returned to your stomach.

_______________

What are the stages of grief again? Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Is it normal to feel them all at once?

The past few days had done little to clear your mind. But exhaustion had carried you to the point of passivity. You’d become numb. You supposed it was a defense mechanism, a subconscious effort to save your sanity. Even when you finally heard word of what Joker had been up to since you’d seen him, you had trouble having any sort of feelings about it.

After spending days in your apartment, usually in a state somewhere between asleep and awake, you decided it was best to open the shop. It was sort of like playing pretend. Like you weren’t wrapped around the gloved finger of Gotham’s newest and most notorious criminal who’d been giving you the best sex of your life in exchange for selling your soul to him. Just a regular small business owner trying to stay afloat. Your regular customers had certainly taken notice of your frequent absence lately, as proven by the not so friendly messages left on your answering machine. So, you did your best to keep up the charade under the guise of a “death in the family”.

A stack of newspapers was waiting for you on the doorstep and at the top of the pile, a headline pertaining to a certain clown.

“CITY BRACES FOR JOKER’S NEXT MOVE. COMMISSIONER LOEB FUNERAL PROCEEDINGS TO CONTINUE AS PLANNED.”

You took the one from the top, then unlocked the door and hung up your coat, pausing before dropping the paper on the desk. A little feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t renew your newspaper subscription this year. Your eyes shifted to the door as those pervasive goosebumps rose up on the back of your neck. You knew exactly who left it here. Ignoring it, you swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat and moved on to turn on the shop lights as you tried to reason with yourself. Don’t read it, you’ll find out what he has planned soon enough. He’s using you for his games.

But reasoning has never been your strong suit. After all, you should keep up with what’s going on, right? You rushed back to the desk and dropped into your chair before swiftly unfolding the paper, your palms already damp with sweat.

The article had little details to offer until it stated that a threat was made on the mayor’s life in the form of a fake obituary. The thought that Joker had a certain flare for the dramatic made you shift in your chair as your heart fluttered and you finished reading. For the amount of crime that went on in this city, Gotham was never good at responding to it. Not in any way that made sense, at least. They were going ahead with the commissioner’s funeral and the mayor was still scheduled to give his speech. It seemed like they were asking for it by now. Why would they just put the mayor out in front like he was bait?

Then your stomach sank even further. Maybe it was a trap. Gotham PD couldn’t be that stupid, they must be planning to catch him when he goes after the mayor. The next domino. Your heart started pumping faster as an inexplicable need to warn him flashed in your mind. No, that’s stupid. You don’t want to protect him. He’s a sociopathic murderer.

Here you were again. Caught in your own web, tangled between what you knew you should want and what you really wanted. You already knew what you wanted and so did he. You remembered when you saw him only days ago, the feeling that carried all the way down to your toes, the look in his eyes, the way he touched you. The sounds he made when he fucked you.

A furious rush of tingles ran down your back and your mind raced. He must know it’s a trap. He’s smarter than them. He wouldn’t let himself get killed that easily, right? Your hands gripped the desk as you tried to calm yourself, accepting the reality that you couldn’t hold back these feelings. You couldn’t hold them back or you’d loose your mind faster than you already were. He told you he’d see you again, you just had to wait. He hasn’t lied to you so far.

Once the buzz in your body settled and your breath slowed, you stood from the desk to get something to slake the thirst tightening in your throat. Maybe it’ll help clear your head too. You opened the fridge in the workshop where you kept complimentary drinks for costumers then scanned its contents before stopping yourself from grabbing the champagne and reaching for a bottle of water instead. The cold water soothed all the way down to your stomach and you closed your eyes, the relief even better than you’d hoped for. Then a sound coming from the front room made your eyelids fly open. It sounded like the door closing.

You were already on edge, maybe it was your imagination. But you couldn’t ignore the anxiety that trickled down your back. Did you lock the door behind you when you came in? Your heart raced and that feeling in your stomach was back with a vengeance. Silently setting the water bottle down, you took careful steps toward the door.

The silence was deafening as you slowly passed through the doorway into the front room, your gaze unblinking and brow heavy. You should’ve called out and ask who was there, but your voice was nowhere to be found when you opened your mouth. Then you thought maybe it was Joker, here to collect his next favor, and your heart fluttered. When you passed the desk, your mind busy with possibilities, you turned to see a man in an oversized suit jacket standing in the fitting area.

Your voice finally showed up and the man whirled around when your startled scream rang out into the room. In the split second that your brain had shifted to fight or flight, you’d backed up against the wall and sucked in a breath as your sensibility returned, your cheeks flushing hot.

“Sir, the shop is closed!” you blurted out in embarrassment as you tried to catch your breath.

Your back was still flat against the wall when he flashed you an unnerving smile and answered as he turned to face you, “My apologies, miss. Pardon my intrusion but I am here on behalf of someone who wish to speak to you.”

His accent. You could almost smell the stale cigars.

The heat drained from your face and before you could second guess yourself, you made a break for the front door. Your panicked muscles carried you as far as ten feet from the door before a pair of arms wound around your middle and pulled you backwards as you kicked and shouted. You managed to jab your elbow straight into the man’s stomach, eliciting a pained grunt, but he still wouldn’t let go, dragging you toward the exit out to the alleyway as you screamed obscenities at him, your heels skidding on the floor.

He grunted again then said with increasing irritation in his voice, “You only make this harder on yourself, eh? Now be a good little girl and shut up!”

A swell of burning rage rose up in your chest when his words left his mouth and with more force than you thought you were capable of, you jerked your body forward and pulled the man off of his feet to tip him over onto the floor. He took you down with him. But the fall broke his grasp, and you were able to wriggle free before scrambling to your feet. The front door was still your best hope. Maybe someone in this godforsaken city would hear you scream and do something.

You took a leap toward the door once again before your chin slammed against the floor boards after he snatched your ankle and brought you crashing back down onto the floor. A frustrated shout scratched in your throat as you twisted onto your back. His hand caught your fist when you swung it toward his face, the satisfaction from the crack of your knuckles against his jaw never fulfilled. Everything was happening so fast but also so slowly as you struggled against his grip where he was bent over top of you on the floor, his cologne burning your nose. The air hurt your lungs and blood roared in your ears, your thoughts muddled by the raw anger that took over your body. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t let this happen.

His hand twisted in your hair and pulled hard, the sting in your scalp making you hiss through gritted teeth. Then you saw it in the corner of your eye, your pair of heavy upholstery scissors had been knocked onto the floor, just within your reach.

A flash of red blinded you as your fist tightened around the handle just before you felt the resistance of the blades sinking into his flesh. Everything else seemed to stop and your muscles squeezed to push them in further, your mind gone blank. His hand left your hair to grab at his throat, sputtering and choking as you released your grip on the scissor’s handle. His eyes grew wider as his lungs tried desperately to pull a breath in, but it was too late.

Blood saturated his shirt collar, flowing further away from his brain, his mouth gaping open. It gurgled and bubbled, gasping for air that could no longer pass through, only thick blood filling his airway as his consciousness rapidly faded to black. Your body went numb and rolled out from beneath him before he hit the floor, his frantic movements gone still.

Soon you were on your feet, staring at the body face down on the floor, your scissors shoved into his throat. You blinked before a wave of panic suddenly pushed you against the wall, plunging you into a cold sweat, unable to look away from the pool of bright red seeping into the rug. You couldn’t stop yourself from panting and trembling, your head growing lighter until you felt the walls closing in. The only thing that kept you from passing out was an eruption of nausea, the second surge of a physiologic response to the realization of what you’d done as you slid down the wall into a heap on the floor.

You retched against your sobs that burst forth, the only sound in the unnervingly silent room as you let it all out, too overwhelmed to know what else to do. There was strange solace in the blur that your tears brought to your vision, distorting the scene in front of you, like it wasn’t there. But it was. Your mind began reeling, attempting to process, to rationalize. You killed him. He was dead. Now it was so quiet.

It wasn’t clear how long you’d spent like that, trapped beneath the weight of shock. But gradually the torrent of emotion that had stunned you quelled, and your breath slowed, nearly all of your capacity for feeling exhausted. In the absence of feeling, you regained your ability to think. He was dead but he attacked you. It was self-defense. It was self-defense.

Then your eyes flew open and your stomach sank before you managed to stand up, your legs buckling underneath you as you rushed to the door to turn the lock. What do you do now? You spun around, your back to the door, and scanned the room in some attempt to come up with a plan. Now there was a body on the floor and blood all over your shop. It should have surprised you how quickly your attitude shifted from devastated by what you had done to upset by the situation it put you in. But you knew exactly who had something to do with that.

You aren’t as helpless as you think you are.

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. This was because of him. He was the whole reason this man was here, the only reason that Chechen sent him here to get you. What was going to happen now that he wasn’t going to return with you? You didn’t have much time, did you? A feeling of dread settled into your stomach. This was all because of him but he was the only one who could help you.

Bile rose up toward your mouth, but you stifled it as you stepped around the body in search of Joker’s phone, the air feeling heavier as you rounded the desk. This still didn’t feel real. It was there in front of you, but it didn’t feel real.

The screen lit up and you scrolled through the list on “unknown” and “private” numbers. Your heart beat faster as anxiety bubbled just below the surface, threatening to pull you under again until you stopped on one of them and hit the call button with your thumb. Holding the phone to your ear, your hands buzzed while it rang, each tone loosening your tenuous grasp on rationality. The ringing stopped and then, nothing. A squeeze in your chest pushed you to try again. No answer. Your breath quickened and your hands started to shake but you couldn’t give up. You chose another number and hit call, then another. One last try.

Your whole body tingled now as it rang. One ring, two rings. On the sixth ring, you were ready to submit to the heightening unease crawling up your back until you suddenly heard his voice.

“Little busy right now, doll.”

It felt like your heart stopped then restarted and you couldn’t get sound to come from your mouth for a moment before you managed to almost whisper, “I need help.”

There was silence, permeated by the sound of your breathing as you trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone.

“And where might help find you?” he asked in an unusual tone.

Your voice was hoarse but a bit stronger when you answered, “My shop.”

He was silent again and you could hear something in the background, but the thumping of your own heart in your ears made it difficult to recognize what it was.

“Wait there.”

Then the call was ended.

The phone slid down away from your ear as you let your arm fall to your side and lowered yourself into the desk chair. He didn’t even ask what happened or what you needed help with. But there was something about his tone of voice. It brought you a strange sense of relief, knowing he was coming. It sank into you, warm and calming, easing your nerves all twisted up inside you. It was crazy, wrong, backwards, but that didn’t make it any less true. You didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore, acceptance was just by default now.

Your stomach twinged when you remembered what was on the other side of the desk and you felt a sudden need to be as far away from it as possible, standing from the chair so fast your head felt light. There was an inexplicable, contradictory urge to look that you fought to resist as you rushed to the back room, keeping your eyes averted. You had to try to stay calm and wait.

The next hour was pure torture. You sat clutching the burner phone tightly and stared at the bottle of water you’d left there not long ago, but by now it felt like days. Surely you needed it, but the thought of swallowing anything made your throat tighten. Every time the way it felt when the blades in your hand sank into flesh crossed your mind, it was like there was a short circuit and it was gone as soon as you blinked. You would have never guessed that you’d be capable of doing something like this. Did Joker know? He seemed to know more about you than you did. Were you like him? Does he go numb when it happens like you did?

You were shaken out of your trance when the sound of the side door opening made you flinch before you got up to rush toward the front room. Your breath hitched when, for the second time today, instead of seeing Joker, you saw someone else. But he looked familiar.

“The fuck happened here?” Joker’s goon with the bald head and leather jacket asked.

Your tense muscles relaxed a little, and you watched a few other men you didn’t recognize enter the room, their faces showing an equal amount of surprise before the door shut.

“Where is he?”

“Boss is busy.”

You blinked at the hulking man and tried to focus on staying calm as your ever-persistent level of anxiety threatened to rise up again. He wasn’t here but you supposed he trusted these men since he sent them in his place, for whatever that was worth. “Ok,” you answered softly.

The man looked down at the body then back to you before he raised his eyebrows and said, “A’right, so we gotta move a body then?”

He seemed so casual about it, staring at you and waiting for a response until you slowly nodded. They moved surprisingly quickly, taking the mirror and tables off of the rug before rolling the body into it. Most of the blood went with it but there was still some on the hardwood. They asked you if you had any bleach. It was surreal, watching them rid the room of any sign that something so violent had happened. They carried out the rolled up rug to toss it into the back of the white van they’d driven then used bleach and scraps of terry cloth that you never knew why you’d kept to clean up the rest of the blood before throwing it all away in a garbage bag, thrown in the van with the body.

It seemed strange how easily they could make it all go away. Physically, anyway. The reality of it was finally starting to sink in. You weren’t sure how long the images would replay in your mind, the moment you saw his eyes grow distant, the blood welling up in his mouth.

You stared blankly ahead through the windshield from where you sat in the van’s passenger seat, your chest rising and falling steadily with your breath. They hadn’t bothered to blindfold you this time. It wasn’t clear why. Maybe they saw the vacant look on your face and knew you wouldn’t remember any of the drive anyway. It was still daylight, but only just. The whisps of clouds on the horizon fluoresced in bright shades of pink and orange. Gotham usually isn’t treated to such beautiful sunsets.

It wasn’t long before your surroundings morphed into the now familiar sight of urban decay. Broken windows, gated doors, peeling paint. You watched it all pass by until the van made a turn toward the docks. You’d never been to this place before. The shrill sound of gulls met your ears when you followed the group of men out of the van, parked behind what looked like an old shipyard warehouse. None of them said a word or even looked back at you as they carried the body and bag of bloodied rags toward a rusted door, but a flutter in your stomach compelled you to stay close.

Voices echoed off of the ceiling that rose up two stories, lined with crisscrossed metal scaffolding and flickering lights, above a large central room that was littered with broken crates and scrap metal. Graffiti covered much of the weather beaten brick walls and a staircase leading to an upper level. You’d actually always wanted to see what these abandoned buildings looked like on the inside. They’re all over Gotham, corroding monuments to a once thriving city. This place was a hive of activity; groups of men cleaning guns, unloading various boxes and crates, there even appeared to be a riotous poker game underway. You focused on steadying your breath as you took in your surroundings before your gaze landed on where the men had carried the body.

Across the room, they were opening the door to a huge furnace, the bright glow making you squint your eyes. Your mouth slowly dropped open and your throat became dry when you saw them heave the body, rug, and bag of evidence into the white hot flames. And that was it. Like it never even happened.

Your nerves crept up on you and even this open space started to feel like it was closing in. What were you doing here? This was the last place you should have been, surrounded by the sort of men who could easily have stood in place of the one who was now being rendered to cinders. A shiver ran down your back and you quickly turned to run out the door but instead slammed hard into someone’s chest. A surprised gasp nearly made you cough when it dried your throat even more and your hands reflexively flew up to shield yourself as your gaze dropped to the floor.

A powerful jolt tightened every muscle once you blinked, seeing brown shoes and purple pinstripe pants standing there in front of you. You let your eyes travel up his chest, rising and falling steadily, covered only by a thin white tank top, and your heart fluttered before reaching his face when it dropped into your stomach. The white, red, and black that always obscured his features, it wasn’t there. You could see the pink, gnarled scar tissue that distorted the corners of his mouth, bare and uncovered. His skin bore only traces of the distinguishing paint, like it had been hastily wiped off.

His tongue flicked out over his lip and you sucked in a breath when your eyes darted up to meet his. Warmth seeped in beneath your skin, pooling in your belly as electricity ran across the surface of your body.

“Hello, doll.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Taglist: @amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @liz-rdwitch @germansarechill @thesadvampire @tsukiakarinobara @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @apocalypticwafflekitten @astheworlddturns @komatheterrible @jokersqueenofchaos @killingjokee @into-crazy @youmaycallmebrian @jslittlebirdie @vipervixxen

[saeransboy]

Hope

Pairing: Saeran Choi / Male CMC (Rowan)

Word Count: 4177

Warnings: Spoilers for the Secret Endings, hospitals

Notes: this is my piece for the @nostringsdetached zine!! i'm so happy that i got to participate, and that it got so much support. you can get the full zine bundle for free, as well as see my partner @mm12578's accompanying art for this piece, at this link.

you can also read this here on ao3!! i hope you enjoy!!

Saeran was unhappy.

Though not an uncommon feeling for the other man after all he'd been through, being in the hospital evoked the feeling strongly. He was constantly feeling judged, being watched, and it felt suffocating. His lack of choice was all too obvious now. If having most of the control he had over his own body being taken away wasn't enough, being forced to see people he didn't want to deal with was the final nail in his coffin.

It was overwhelming, upsetting, and made him want to disappear more than ever before. Trying to shut out the rest of the world wasn't an option, as it only forced its way in. Unless he had to answer whoever stopped by, Saeran ignored their questions and small talk, and eventually they gave up. Everyone had, except for that boy.

Rowan had been easy enough to lure to the apartment. He obviously hadn't trusted Saeran, and was just as uneasy around the RFA at first. However, he stayed to work as their party coordinator simply because he "had nothing better to do". Of course, with the tense situation that developed, he became far from bored. "Terrified" was a better descriptor.

The guilt Saeran felt over that was overwhelming. He'd been the one to choose Rowan, to lure him in, to try to kidnap him. He killed a man right in front of him. Had it not been for him, the party coordinator wouldn't have ever been dragged into this. Which made it all the more confusing when he came to visit alongside his brother.

The ex-hacker had been so shocked at his appearance, he remained silent only because he wasn't sure what to say. His guest left defeated, but he returned alone the next day, and the next. In fact, despite Saeran's silence, Rowan kept showing up, coming by to ramble at him about his day-to-day life and eventually to sit quietly and read. The silence was a lot more comfortable.

He let the silence remain til the other man came to his defense from a rude nurse. After that, he hesitantly reached out, reigniting his guest's desire to speak to him. The ex-hacker barely replied, and his guest enthusiastically continued on like it was normal. It started off shakily, and he would cut short any inquiries on his wellbeing and brushed off Rowan's attempts at comfort on bad days, but it went well.

They had made a lot of progress since then.

The last time Rowan was here, he held his hand. The other man had sensed his upset and reached to comfort him. Despite his first instinct to push him away, he accepted it without argument, not returning the favor or rejecting it. It felt so warm. When was the last time he got to feel another’s touch without being hurt or manipulated in the process? A brief image of his brother’s arms wrapping around him flashes in his mind, and he scowls.

Saeyoung. Saeran still wasn’t alright with him, not fully, but he was trying. As much as he hated it, he was jealous of his twin. Not just for his carefree lifestyle all these years or the friends that supported him so steadfastly, but for his relationship with Rowan. When he saw them, they were laughing and falling over each other or comforting one another. There was always some physical contact, and so much trust.

Rowan had confirmed that no, they weren’t together like he had assumed, but the bond they shared was perfectly sweet. He felt starved watching them. It was then, when he deciphered what that tension he felt when he saw them together was, that he faced his feelings for the brunette.

He was smitten. Completely, utterly, sickeningly smitten; when he realized his feelings, he had grown so nauseated it made his head spin. He wasn’t entirely sure he was in that deep, but only such a dramatic word could describe the heaviness with which it weighed on him. Someone like him wasn't meant for feelings like this.

The next time Rowan visited, Saeran blamed his suddenly more reserved behavior on the medicine he was being given. He wasn’t questioned, but the guilt of lying stung.

Saeran couldn't let himself feel this. It was inevitable that he would prove himself yet again to be a monster. He would hurt Rowan and it was eating him alive, but he'd rather let the feeling fester inside of him than cause the man any more pain or stress. It was easier said than done.

Nothing had filled that deep, all-encompassing void of guilt inside of him but the other man's visits. Hiis quips and words of comfort provided some relief. It was barely making a change, but the air still felt lighter around him. There was no tension, no distrust, and he never felt cornered.

He could just exist, never feeling pressured to do any more than that.

These awful feelings threw a wrench into that, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Just like every other thought and feeling, he wanted to push it down in the hopes of suffocating it until it was quiet or died. Or until it explodes and destroys everyone around you, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers. That was just as likely, and the thought terrified him. His hands clench in the thin sheets of the bed, trying to ground himself the best he can.

Downstairs, Rowan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his boot nervously against the ground as he waits for his security escort. He knows his anxiety comes off as impatience to the staff, giving him more room than everyone else as he leans against the wall, and he lets it stay that way. With the feelings swarming in his mind, he was sure that any invasion of his space might set him off.

After countless visits, coming to see Saeran during his recovery became a routine he enjoyed greatly. It wasn't always this nice; the first few times, he came with Saeyoung, but after being met with silence, he persuaded the hacker to let him come on his own. Nothing changed at first, the room being filled with an awkward silence as Rowan attempted one-sided conversations. The man refused to respond, rarely even offering him a glance. It frustrated him to no end; even after dropping his own guard, he hadn't gotten anywhere.

Eventually he gave up on trying to communicate, simply coming to sit in the corner and read. It had to be lonely, being stuck there, so he figured having another heartbeat in the room that wasn't poking or prodding him or interrogating him on his mental state might help. The tension in the air had quickly faded into something more peaceful, and some of Saeran's guard visibly slipped away. That was good enough for Rowan; as long as he wasn't actively being shut out, it was still progress.

Surprisingly, Saeran was the one to break the silence, though not without good reason. Much to their annoyance, a nurse interrupted their visitation, disturbing the peaceful co-existence they had with each other. She was everything Rowan hated to see: pushy, unsympathetic, and completely uncaring about his mental wellbeing.

It made his heart hurt, seeing the other man flinch when she slammed her clipboard down on his bedside table. Every word out of her mouth was ridicule, and though he knew the ex-hacker was used to such talk, that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

When she left with one last comment on how scrawny he still was, Rowan didn't hesitate to jump up from his seat. Following behind, he proceeded to chew her out. For her complete lack of experience, for her apathy, for taking out whatever the hell was wrong with her on Saeran. It wasn't long before his voice raised, but he was careful not to start screaming. The last thing he wanted was to upset the already stressed man more.

It didn't surprise Rowan that his friendly feelings grew into something stronger, but that didn't make the realization any less terrifying. For the first few days, he struggled to reel himself back in, trying to shove his feelings to the back of his mind so he could be there for the other man without guilt eating away at him. Being so friendly to him only felt like he was taking advantage of the man's barely earned trust.

It didn't last, as he noticed Saeran growing increasingly tense at his less emotional, more closed-off responses. With a quick explanation, claiming he'd not been feeling like himself -- not a complete lie, as such a deep feeling had knocked him off his feet -- and that he was sorry, he mended the situation and forced himself to swallow his guilt.

He could tell Saeran didn't fully believe him, but the man was obviously relieved to have things back to normal the next visit, when Rowan came in grinning. It earned him a small smile in return, the first he'd seen from the man.

Rowan is torn from his reminiscing by a security guard clearing her throat. She nods towards an open elevator. "Come on, tough guy. I'll drop you off." Though he bristles at the obviously mocking title, he doesn't argue, not wanting to get kicked out. Instead, he trails after her and steps in, trying to calm the fluttering that starts up in his chest at the thought of seeing the other man.

The ride up is tense, the brunette almost lunging forward when the doors slide open. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder with a scowl. Though he always looked forward to the visits, he hated dealing with the staff. Setting his eyes on Saeran's door, he picks up the pace, hurrying down the hall as fast as he can despite his slight nervousness.

Before Saeran's thoughts can spiral anymore out of control, the all-too-familiar sound of chains clinking together sounds down the hall, the thoughts slipping from his mind to let him focus. It was definitely him; despite the noisiness of his entrance, the steps sounded hesitant, stumbling over themselves. The awkwardness always manages to make his heart feel a bit lighter, some of the dread that had been bubbling up inside of him slipping away.

As expected, the footsteps come towards his room, stopping just outside for a moment. There's a pause, his guest taking a moment for a deep breath, before the door is cautiously pushed open. Rowan jumps a bit upon seeing him, obviously not expecting Saeran to be sat up waiting for him. The surprised look on his face quickly fades into a soft smile, some of the tension he entered with easing from his shoulders.

The man always put up a tough exterior, Saeran knew, but he trusted him enough to let that down. Whether that was because he wanted mutual trust or because he was just plain stupid, the ex-hacker wasn't quite sure, but it never bothered him, and he never bought up the subject.

The brunette shuffles his way over to him without a word, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. Everything about him is a contradiction: the gentle look on his face combined with his dark and intentionally rough exterior, the way he avoided eye contact despite his obvious distaste at being seen as a pushover, how he still wandered to his side like a clueless puppy despite all Saeran had done, as if he wasn't dangerous.

That frustrated him most of all. He was trying so hard to protect everyone for once after he had planned to destroy their lives. It was like the male could see right through him, but never saw what Saeran wanted him to.

As usual, Rowan slouches forward, giving him that stupid grin that made his stomach flutter and twist up all at the same time. "Sorry I'm late, but I'm sure you're used to it now. Have you eaten yet? I kinda had to skip lunch, didn't have time." He trips over his words mid-sentence, distracted by the way that his heavy jacket slips off his shoulder.

Every visit started the same, his visitor pitifully trying to disguise his fretting as small talk and him offering up muttered responses. It was still progress from how they started, but Saeran always felt some guilt seeing how much effort the other man put into trying to talk to him. Wanting to change that the best he could, he tries speaking up some, clearing his throat. ''No. I don't like the food."

Contradictory to the pout he usually gives at that response, Rowan's eyes light up. "Great! Um. Not that you haven't eaten because the food sucks. Just... gimme a second." With that, he hops up from his seat, scurrying back to the door, nearly forgetting to put up his facade before motioning for a nurse.

Saeran can't decipher much from his position, only picking up on the word "privacy" and the dirty look the man shoots the nurse when she shakes her head. Only a few more words are exchanged before his expression brightens, and he whirls back around.

To his surprise, the unusually peppy man closes the door. That had never been allowed before, both for Saeran's safety and his visitor's. But Rowan was always rather convincing, not to mention stubborn, so it wasn't too shocking that he was the one earning him that right.

The act now fully slipped away again, Rowan practically trips over his feet moving back, rummaging through the pockets of his oversized jacket for something. Had it been anyone else, he might've been paranoid or distrusting, but he knew the man in front of him wasn't a threat in the slightest.

Once again stunning Saeran, the man pulls out ice cream -- an entire tub of it. Mint chocolate, he noted, feeling his heart skip a beat at the realization that he had remembered his favorite flavor. Outside food was also previously off-limits, and guessing from the way he had asked for privacy, it still was.

Once again, the man isn't making sense. Not only has he gone out of his way to visit daily, staying even on Saeran's worst days until he's either asked to leave or is forced out by the staff, now he's breaking rules and risking trouble for himself all for his sake. Why? He was a monster and a murderer, and he's being smuggled in gifts?

All of the kindness he was offered was foreign to him, and perhaps that was for the best. He didn't deserve any of it. All he deserves is to rot in this awful place, his nose constantly stinging from the scent of medicine and his eyes burning under the blindingly bright fluorescent light.

"...Saeran?" Broken out of his trance, he shakes his head, feeling a tinge of annoyance seeing the red that reflects off the bedpost in his peripheral. His natural color hadn't grown back much, but it was enough to put a scowl on his face. Not once did he want to let the white fade, wanting to have some semblance of separation from his brother, but he didn't have a choice. Not here, not anywhere.

Only Rowan ever offered him control, and even he himself was limited in what he could allow. It wasn't fair. That, too, made him grateful for his stubborn visitor. It was rare for him to give up when he had his mind set on something, and that gave Saeran a lot more freedom than he would have without him.

"I'm fine," he reassures. Rowan doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't pry, instead placing the tub on the sheets between them before digging in his pocket for a packet of utensils, unmistakably snagged from the hospital's cafeteria. Placing it in his resting hand, the man gives a paranoid glance back towards the door before grinning widely.

"I don't think they're onto me, so go ahead and eat up." Though he hesitates a moment, Saeran reaches out to pull the ice cream into his lap, popping the lid and taking a scoop. It's slightly melted as expected; it couldn't have made the trip by motorcycle all the way over here and through the wait downstairs totally unscathed. It's tasty nonetheless, a huge relief from the blandness of the food he had to eat here. Before long, he's digging in, feeling starved despite having the three meals a day rule enforced on him.

After a couple of minutes, he glances up at his guest, perplexed to find him entertaining himself by winding a loose thread of the sheets around his finger. It was rare that Rowan was this quiet for so long, and even stranger that he wasn't busying himself the same way that Saeran was. Sinking his spoon into the cold mint, he hums to get the other man's attention. Immediately his eyes are on him, deep blue piercing into him and making him melt and tense up all at the same time.

"What are you doing?" He asks, eyes flitting between his face and the string half-wound around his finger. The other man glances away sheepishly, though he doesn't flinch at his blunt tone; yet another thing they were making progress on. Rowan pauses, searching for a good answer and sighing in defeat when he can't find one.

"...sitting here?" He answers quietly, giving Saeran an uncertain look. "I don't really have anything to do. I was already running late, so when I swung by the store, I just grabbed the ice cream and left."

"Didn't you say you didn't eat lunch?" The redhead questions with a raised brow. The silence lingering in the room tells him all he needs to know. Huffing, he shoves the tub towards him without a second thought, surprising the both of them. It was unusual for him to share anything, especially this, but he wasn't about to pull his foot back when he was already taking a step forward. "Go on. You'll make yourself sick if you don't."

Though he wouldn't admit it out loud -- he wasn't sure he could even if he really wanted to -- Saeran cared for the other man deeply. It wasn't just the budding feelings of affection. His worry for his wellbeing, though underlying, had lingered ever since the party coordinator had set foot in that apartment.

If he didn't care, he wouldn't have stopped him from stepping on the glass from the window. Of course he would've, the idiot, and back then he told himself it was because it'd be easier to transport him if he went uninjured. Now, the truth was obvious.

Reassured by his adamance, Rowan reaches out to take the tub. While keeping a close eye on Saeran's face to check for any signs that he might change his mind, he fails to notice how close their hands get, accidentally brushing their fingers together as he grabs it. The touch is minimal, lasting under a second, but it still startles them both. The brunette gasps, nearly dropping the ice cream as Saeran pulls back.

For a moment they're both silent, staring at each other with flushed cheeks and unreadable expressions. Saeran knows why he reacted that way, but… what about the other man? Was he afraid of him? He didn't look frightened, only embarrassed and a bit flustered. Though there was no reason for him to be flustered, right? Maybe he was just touch-repulsed. They had a lot in common, after all. It was obvious the party coordinator's mind was spiraling just as much as his, the panic in his eyes blindingly obvious.

Trying his best not to overthink and to diffuse the situation, Saeran grumbles and snatches up the spoon, getting another scoop and nudging it against the boy's lips. It smudges against his nose, making him blink in surprise. His fingers coming up to up to wipe away the small bit, he laughs, some of his nerves obviously soothed. Good, Saeran thinks; he can barely handle his own emotions, let alone someone else's.

Holding the spoon out like a threat, he stares blankly at him. "Take it. I'm not feeding you. And sit over here so you don't drop it; that's the last thing we need." He curls his legs in, giving the taller man more room.

The brunette sits on the edge of the bed and takes the spoon happily, fixing his attention on the ice cream as he… purposefully seeks out the chocolate chips, to the point where his spoonful is more chocolate than ice cream. Weird, but Saeran doesn't argue.

Some part of him finds it cute, and he shakes his head, desperately trying to swat the thought away. He had hoped that the feelings would fade, but they were blossoming into something far more dreadful with every visit. That wasn't Rowan's fault; it was his own for not keeping himself under control.

These feelings would have to die with him, he concludes, blinking rapidly to bring himself back. When those blue eyes turn upwards to glance at him, he knows he's been caught getting lost in his mind. Bracing himself for the obvious question, he accepts the tub pushed back to him, tensing when the other man speaks up just as he gets a mouthful.

"What's buggin' you?" Rowan asks, his brows furrowed with concern. Taking his time to let the ice cream melt in his mouth, Saeran answers with a shrug. Remembering his earlier attempt to be more open, he sighs, nudging around a chocolate chip as he tries to think of a good way to put his thoughts into words without exposing his feelings.

"...Is it okay for me to feel things?" It's a clumsy question, and he mentally kicks himself for a multitude of reasons: for how stupid he sounds, for burdening the other man when he'd already been through so much because of him, for the way he's just now noticed his hands shaking. But none of this seems to bother Rowan, who smiles gently and nods.

"It is. I promise." Saeran jumps when Rowan's hand seeks out his, giving it a light, comforting squeeze. He seems oblivious to his own actions, getting lost in thoughts of his own. "It feels… wrong, right? Like anything that isn't terrible isn't for you, and that you're meant to be miserable in silence. It's lonely."

The hand resting on his presses down slightly, and despite the conflicting feelings whirling in his mind, Saeran moves his hand, entwining their pinkies together. He isn't sure what feelings the other man is hiding, but it makes some part of his heart hurt knowing that he's suffering too.

"I've felt lonely a lot," He continues, staring out the window with a solemn expression. It's quiet for a while, Rowan staring at the clouds and Saeran staring at him. Finally, a soft smile tugs at the brunette's lips, and he turns his attention back to him. "I won't let you be lonely too. Not anymore. Okay?"

Saeran's face feels warmer, but he doesn't let himself turn away, fixing his eyes on one of the freckles dotting the other man's cheeks as he hums an acknowledgement and squeezes his hand. Only now does Rowan notice the way their pinkies are curled around each other, but before he can pull back, Saeran tightens his grip. Not enough to trap him, but enough to get across his message. He can't bring himself to say it out loud, but all he wants is for the other man to stay.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan's eyes are swimming with something he doesn't know how to define. It's sweet, warm, making him feel melted on the inside despite his uncertain exterior. As much as he hates being stared at, he isn't sure he wants the other man to look away. The ice cream was next to them, slowly melting in its container; at any point Rowan could remember and turn his attention away.

As if reading his mind, he doesn't. Instead he curls his knees up to his chest, gazing at him with all the affection in the world. It makes Saeran's mind wander, but for once, the thoughts are welcome. Being cared about like this… it makes him feel like maybe he isn't destined to die alone and unloved as he feared.

"Thank you," his visitor says, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay right here with you, as long as you'll have me."

"I will," Saeran manages. "You'll come around regardless."

"But do you mind?"

"...No." The corners of his lips twitch up into a weak smile. It's obvious he's unused to the expression, but he isn't thinking about how he might look strange. Around Rowan, his heart feels lighter.

Falling into a comfortable silence, the redhead watches the clouds through the slightly foggy hospital window, feeling the other man's eyes on him, admiring him. He isn't quite sure what it means, but allowing his feelings to linger, Saeran lets himself hope.

[thetorturerwrites]

Lamb Ch 11 - Tell Me

***This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @elmidol​​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

Previous Chapter

Summary: “Please don’t pretend.” It was little more than a hoarse croak that cracked at the end. “I can’t bear it. Let me be.”

“What do you know of pretending?”

He pinched your chin and bade you look. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; he expected an explanation, but there was no simple answer.

“I know you don’t like me. You’ve made it clear.” You sniffed and looked down, hiding behind your lashes. “I just don’t know why.”

Author’s Note: This chapter has my heart. I hope you enjoy.CN: Mentions of pregnancy, mass death, self-harm inclinations

***

Even in Hosnia, with its perpetual twinkling twilight, there was night.

Gradually, a stillness swept over the land. The stars dimmed to a faint flicker. The wandering wind settled down to rest. And the expanse of The Ren’s keep went stone silent. Not a ripple in the bath. Not a creak from the ages-old walls. Not a crackle of candlelight. 

It was a crypt. Your crypt.

And yet, you could not die in it. You remained suspended in this agonizing in between. Perhaps if you lay quietly enough, you could slip beyond his enchantment, will your heart to beat slower and slower. Perhaps if you wallowed low enough in your grief, you could trick yourself into believing you weren’t apart from your family when the bombs dropped. You’d died with them.

Perhaps if you concentrated on it enough, you could simply cease to be.

These morose notions kept you curled into yourself. After leaving him in the throne room, you’d escaped to his bed, hoping for a few hours of reprieve. You kept on your cloak, hiding your head and face in the folds of the hood. You tucked your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly, imagining it was Nona. It was the only comfort you would get here, but it was hollow. Hollow, like everything else.

Numb, you ignored him when he entered. You didn’t need to see him anymore to know he was here. He changed the atmosphere by entering, altering the barometric pressure enough that you had to pop your ears whenever he came near. When the work was put down for the night and the souls collected, he came for you.

You thought briefly that maybe he would leave you alone. You’d fulfilled your part of the agreement. As far as you could tell, you were, in fact, pregnant. You’d done your part. But you let the wish die, as everything did here. He was too arrogant to stop turning your body against you. For all of your hostility and heartbreak, your body responded to him in a way you couldn’t quash. Regardless of how hard you tried.

You didn’t bother unwinding from your ball. He would move and position you how he saw fit. Your eyes, dry and red from staring into nothing for so long, closed in preparation. You found you could endure his emptiness if you did not look at him. It made the times he bent you over to have you less bitter. You’d been grateful for the ability to bury your head and not be tempted to look.

Tonight, however, he did not pull you from your self-pity. Neither did he jerk you from your cocoon. He watched you; you could feel it, but you would not, could not, give him the satisfaction of looking over your shoulder. You were simply too wrung out to care. Whether it was pity or anger or outright meanness, he slid into the bed behind you without a word.

An inkling nagged at the back of your mind, an anger you were too deadened to acknowledge. His presence comforted you, irrespective of your ire. Knowing where he was and that he was so close made you feel safe. He was the only indomitable soul in the whole of existence, and you had quite a good reason to be protected. More so now.

Despite yourself, you fell asleep.

You awoke to a tangle of limbs and the decadent scent of belladonna. You’d nearly forgotten how good he smelled close up. Having rolled out of your nook in your slumber, you'd stretched out and were cradled in his embrace with his fingers lazily stroking the back of your head in a way that made your scalp tingle.

Alarm bells rang in your mind. This was dangerous ground, and you needed to escape. He could fast make you forget your commitment to staying away. You shifted in his hold enough for him to ease it open slightly; but when he understood you meant to flee, those wrought irons trapped you again.

“Let me go,” you said timidly.

He not only ignored you, he tipped your face up to press an almost chaste kiss to your wrinkled brow. It was too much, the very thing you feared. Your fight erupted, and you twisted to get free. You heard yourself telling him you’d done what he asked; he could leave you alone; you can’t do this.

He doused your outburst by rolling onto you, punctuating your feebleness. With one arm and one leg trapped beneath him, you gulped down fear and exasperation. He slid his leg up between yours, situating you so your cunt rubbed his broad thigh. Your cheeks burned, a complex mix of mortification and yearning. You’d finally found an empty place, a desolate oubliette in your heart where you could hide, and he was already dismantling it.

“Please.” You turned your face to one side, lips quivering. “Don’t do this.”

You knew you begged more tonight than you did when you arrived, more than you did when he fucked you the first time, but it was unstoppable. You wouldn’t come back from this. If he broke you, if he cracked you open to make room for himself, you would never again be able to contain the sadness. You would ache and cry and pine without solace.

"This," he said flatly. It was an admonition and a challenge combined into a single syllable.

“Please don’t pretend.” It was little more than a hoarse croak that cracked at the end. “I can’t bear it. Let me be.”

His thumb swept across your pulse, feather soft and lingering. His jaw ticked the way it always did when you frustrated him, but you’d weather it. It was worth the risk if you could get free.

“What do you know of pretending?”

His patronizing question stoked the resentment lurking in the dark matter of your brain, but you fought it, blowing out as steady of a breath as you could manage. He pinched your chin and bade you look. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; he expected an explanation, but there was no simple answer. You knew you made far too many assumptions about his character, but he wouldn’t tell you anything to color your vision of him otherwise.

“I know you don’t like me. You’ve made it clear.” You sniffed and looked down, hiding behind your lashes. “I just don’t know why.”

“Hm. Why.” 

He dipped his head to place another soft kiss to your neck, right above the hollow. He enjoyed finding the particular places that made you shiver. You pushed at his shoulder weakly, a last ditch effort, but he caught and drew your offending limb up over your head. His granite fingers latched around your wrist, keeping you bound to the bed, to him.

This was bad. Both hands at his mercy. One leg stuck between his. His thigh perfectly situated to welcome your body’s yielding. You felt more bare, more vulnerable, more weak.

Carefully, he pulled the string holding the hood of your cloak in place. Until he untied that bow, you’d forgotten you wore it. Dutifully, he unpeeled you, layer by layer and in a fashion far too intimate. You’d jumped through that door with only your cloak because he kept you clad in as little as possible for easy access. And plunder as you might through room after room, there were simply no other clothes that would fit you available.

That idiot decision led you directly to this moment and this torturous undoing.

You suspected the lack of attire was deliberate, but you forgot about all of that when he tugged the hood apart and pushed it further back. He caressed the length of your jaw with his knuckles, deliberately drawing out your suffering. This was calculated; he had millennia to learn manipulation, physical, mental, and otherwise.

You didn’t stand a chance.

“You ask too many questions.” 

Egregiously slow, he popped the first button on your cloak, the one below the same hollow he’d kissed. With his index finger, he drew a small circle there. Your toes and fingers curled involuntarily. You wanted to argue that you only asked questions because he wouldn’t tell you anything, but you realized he answered your accusation. It was why he didn’t like you. A boulder dropped into your belly because you didn’t want to hear it. It was enough that he didn’t; you wouldn’t recover if he told you why.

“You are stupidly reckless.”

The second button met a similar fate, a leisurely unfastening. It wasn’t only the fabric he plucked apart. It was also you, and you squirmed beneath the utter slowness of it all. You wanted him to edge you forever and to hurry the fuck up.

The last button sat over your heart, and you cursed it for being so bloody prophetic. You felt like howling. You wanted to hurt and sob, but the trail of his fingers made you forget your own name. With the third button gone, he traced the line of your sternum before dipping down to lick up a bead of sweat between your breasts.

“You distract me,” he murmured, lips crawling back up towards your pulse.

That last one cracked lightning in your head. The room tipped sideways into spinning. Your lungs turned to steel, struggling to expand. You ground your jaws together painfully, and your throat burned with acrimony. With those three words, he shredded your tender soul to ribbons. Ruined, you squirmed, all pins and needles and lust. It felt like you wept, but your cheeks were too hot to be damp.

I don’t. I don’t. I’m sorry. I don’t. I’m sorry. I can’t. Don’t.

It became your litany. You chanted it, lamenting and weary, but his hands did not waver from their task. He flipped the cloak open, bearing your flesh to the cool midnight air. His slightly calloused palm smoothed up from your calf, along the curve of your hip, and over the ripe swell of your breast. He squeezed, fingers digging in until your hiccups changed to whimpers. The noise he made right before he covered your straining nipple with his mouth coaxed your entire body into a jerk.

“Kylo,” you choked, barely able to get it out. “Please. Don’t make me.”

It was the first time you said his name, and his head shot up. His eyes bored holes into you, swirling incandescent. Fast as a feline, he shifted, settling more of his body on you and looking down. He went from halfway lying between to spreading your thighs obscenely wide with the sheer size of his frame.

You didn’t want him to see the things you couldn’t hide, but he clearly had no plans to let you loose.

“Make you.”

His truncated parroting was infuriating, but you fought valiantly to not be goaded into an argument you'd never win.

His thumb breached your lips to swipe at your tongue, and your body surged up painfully as though he electrocuted you. You’d worked hard to forget the sugary taste of him, the way his skin drugged you to an erotic high at the briefest taste. He was deadly in every way and sexier than anyone had warned you, or maybe even knew.

It was pointless to argue any further. He would win. He would always win. Hardening yourself against what you knew to be a hungry gaze, you looked up at him. For a flash of a second, he wavered at the sight of you, but he disguised it with the press of his lips into a steadfast line.

“Don’t make me feel like I’m not alone.” 

You said it with much more calm and confidence than you actually felt. Your time in his captivity, beneath him and wrapped around him, developed this new ability to distill your rambling down to its foundation. He didn’t like questions or mortal nonsense. He wanted it plain, always, and you’d learned how to do it. He didn’t like a lot of extra words; but no matter your newfound skill, you overflowed with them. The essence of your human-ness was to make connections, to find understanding and empathy.

“I have nothing. Not a home, not a family, not you.” 

You studied the way he studied you, watching him swallow what looked startlingly like a feeling. 

“I’m not like you. I’ve had to mourn my family alone, and…” You stalled, but you knew he wouldn’t let you not finish. “I have to mourn you every time you say something nice to me or do something that looks like kindness but isn’t.”

His brow cocked, a clear response to what he felt was your false presumption, but you didn’t care. You were beyond it all. You may as well say to him whatever you wanted because it couldn’t get worse than his stony countenance day after day, and the alternative to that was the peaceful forever of death. 

“I’m not asking you to like me.” Foolishly, you carried on, but your voice dropped, quieter and more afraid. The bravado you felt faded fast. “I’m asking you to not make me like you.”

The way he looked at you, slightly off stoic but decidedly demanding, boiled your blood. He reached down and hooked his fingers under your knee, drawing your leg up and around his hip. It parted your legs more for him, opening you up in a way that made you swoon. You thought you could stay out of reach of his dick; but with it so close, you practically salivated for it.

“It's far too late for that.” Following the first, he tugged your other leg into place around him. “Your body gives you away.”

You wanted to disagree, but his teeth nipped your cheek. You shuddered at the tease of his hard length sliding through your mess, seeking its target in the warm and wet that never quite abated. Your everything swelled for him. Breasts, nipples, pussy lips puffy and engorged with your rushing blood. He wasn’t wrong, but you despised him for pointing it out.

Your breath ruptured into wild panting, sharp through clenched teeth. You stared up at him, hopelessly lost to the spiraling of color in his irises. He took advantage of your deliriousness and pushed your previously pinned arm above your head with the first and held both down with one massive hand. It elongated your body and arched your torso up into him, a thing he enjoyed if the thrum in his chest was to be believed.

You imagined yourself an insect, wings stretched out and nailed to the bed; and all the while, the mad scientist above you inundated your senses. His mouth descended upon your breast once more, eliciting a strangled keening when your vocal chords caught up to the rest of you. He batted the hard nub with his tongue until you writhed pitifully, and he only switched to the other when you tried to buck him off from the over-stimulation.

Playing more and more into his hand, you hugged his sides with wobbly legs and tried to draw him in closer. Your body did truly lead the way, each movement beyond your mind’s purview. It no longer hearkened to your whims but to his. Your insides leaked out of your sex, painting both you and he with heat and want. It scented the air and mingled with his tempting poison. 

You were seconds from begging him to fuck you when the blunt head of his cock found its place. He gripped your hip and mouthed at the side of your neck as he rocked himself further into your weeping slit bit by bit. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and your fingers dug into his because it always amazed you. He was long and thick and perfect; and though he stretched you open to the point of burning, it was intoxicatingly good. Thankfully, he bottomed out right when you thought you surely couldn’t take any more.

You whined his name, which spurred him to bite at your shoulder. You convinced yourself it was to cap off the grunt you heard in the back of his throat. He masked another noise by burying his face into your nape and sucking a mark into your salty skin.

You clamped your eyes shut because these were the sounds you so desperately wanted to hear for weeks. Anything to show you did well, to show that he enjoyed you, or at least your pussy, in a way he would never say. You’d forgotten, however, that shutting your eyes so hard contracted your cunt at the same time until he withdrew without warning and rammed back in to enjoy that tightness. You yelped in surprise but angled your hips to give him a deeper channel. The moans you tamped down for so long clamored to the surface. Ablaze, you couldn’t be quiet to save your soul. You mewled and yowled with each powerful snap of his hips and the way he pillaged you for every last centimetre your cunt had to offer. 

This was unlike any time he’d had you before. He kept your limbs immobilized and your body taut. He kept his pace persistent but unhurried, which had you pleading pitifully. And he kept his mouth on you, lips grazing, tongue tasting, teeth scraping. Enticing, sinful noises were pushed into your skin as though he didn’t want you to hear them but couldn’t contain them.

And then, it happened. The thing you wanted so passionately. The thing you dreamed about.

He snuffed out your cries with a fiery kiss, blasting through the last of your willpower. 

His mouth was heaven, delicious and plump and divine. He knew exactly how he wanted to kiss you, and he led you to it expertly. He tipped your face precisely the right way and wrecked you with the spice in his spit. And when your lips trembled, agitated by sadness and relief and passion, he bit them, as though to chase those things away and replace them with himself.

Abruptly, it all came to a halt. He pushed up to his knees, lifting the lower half of your body in the doing. He didn’t pull out, not willing to surrender his occupation of your body. Nor did he relinquish his rigid grasp of your wrists, opting instead to splay his free hand across the soft swell of your belly, pushing down to trap you there. Your head swam, and you groaned because you felt more full as he pressed on your abdomen. You knew he waited for you to look at him, but you blundered, destroyed and witless.

“Do you want to die?” 

His normally razor sharp tone lilted into something you could not name. Your eyes struggled to settle on one particular feature because he was hypnotically beautiful. His eyes shone brilliantly bright; a soft pink blush blossomed across his nose and cheeks from his arousal.

Punctuating the question, his hands found the magic he laid upon you at your forearm and thigh. He rubbed through the ever-looping blood, which, somehow, made your insides shiver. It was a wicked sensation, a stroke to your very veins that pulled a carp from the depths of your being.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes stung. It was cruel of him to ask you this while buried to the hilt inside you, while he was in the middle of obliterating the walls you tried so hard to build between you. But it wasn’t a threat. As you peered up at him, charting a course from one irresistible mole to the next, you saw he asked in earnest. He offered you the escape you hopelessly sought.

Strange how you weren’t so sure you wanted it.

Your loved ones still lay unavenged. Your call for the annihilation of The Resistance still had not been answered. You fought so hard to make it here, sacrificed so much of yourself to that end. What would it say about you if you abandoned it? Weak. Childish. Unworthy.

Beyond that, you had to admit he was right. It was too late to pretend your feelings for him didn’t complicate the issue. You weren’t so stupid as to think he loved you, but you burned for his kind word. You craved his touches even when they weren’t kind. He lit a fire in you and made you feel, a feat you’d not accomplished on your own since the death of your people.

Not yet trusting yourself, you worried the inside of your lip and sought his eyes, but you weren’t prepared for the way he looked at you. He was primal desire manifested, ragged and raw need encased in the skin of a man. The first man. The only man.

But what if he died? What if he found Vader and walked off his own cliff? You’d be here, alone and lonely, with only whatever semblance of a child he produced to stop you from going mad.

How you answered would change the arc of your life irrevocably. If you said yes, this teetering on the edge of begrudging coexistence ended. You could slip into nothing and be done with all of this. If you said no, he would have his hooks in your spirit for eternity. No matter if he never loved you, you wouldn’t be able to refuse him. Ever.

“N-no.”

It was a jittery, hesitant sound, but it was true. He accepted your supplication by pulling you close so he could lift you up. He guided your fingers to his shoulders and settled back on his haunches, holding you closer than ever before. Your weight sunk you down onto his cock and you whinged from the way it nudged your sensitive cervix. You crossed your ankles and tried to inch upwards for a bit of relief.

One chiseled arm held you aloft, while the other traveled your length, winding from the nape of your neck to wrap around your generous hip. He found the spot between where your thigh ended and where your ass began and made a handle, using it to move you up and down, forward and back.

In mere moments, he had you wound up and ready to combust all over again.

“S’ansur yien,” he crooned into your neck, a murmur more profound than thunder. “Tyor ilohira.”

“Kylo? I…”

The way he growled into your neck and slammed his hips up into yours when you said his name settled your curiosity. There was no doubt he enjoyed hearing you say it, and you wondered if he’d ever heard it on another’s lips before. You clung to him as his pace quickened. Over and over he said those eloquent, alluring things into your neck, your hairline, your shoulder. Things you'd never heard before; things it seemed like he couldn't not say.

Tyor ilohira. Yie ilohira. S’ansur yien.

His presence expanded, saturating the room with a consuming euphoria that addled your mind. All while he worked you on his cock in much the same way he did that first day, using your body for his pleasure. Unlike before, he was as deep in your cunt as he could physically be without ripping you apart, and he strained at the seams to keep from doing so.

You quaked. There was nothing for it but to brace. Your pussy stung, and each subsequent shove of his dick tore at your cunt more. You bled for him, as you had so many times before, and you knew he could certainly smell it tinting the air with the slightest hint of iron. It roused him to a roughshod railing every time.

His mouth lined up with yours in a kiss that could only be called a brand. It was fierce and full of urgency, lusty and skirting frantic. His grip turned brutal, possessive; and then, it was your turn to swallow the indecent sounds he made as he flooded your battered cunt. He rode the orgasm out, pumping his hips slow and insistent until his satisfied hum abated.

You swayed, coiling your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck to not topple backwards. You were wary but content to stay here however long he might like. You traced the line of his scar down to his shoulder blade with a skimming fingertip. He was ethereal, holy, and you wanted to pray to him, to exalt all that he was and would ever be, though you didn’t know why. He hadn’t exactly earned that level of worship.

He didn’t meet your stare. Instead, his luscious lips rolled together as he pieced his indifferent veneer back together. A gasp lodged in the back of your throat because he had been affected. You saw it; here was your proof. He’d ridden that whirlwind with you, the result of which was plain as day on his face.

“Kylo?” You dared a whisper, not wanting to break the moment, but your ludicrous need to know things simply would not allow the niggling question to go unasked. “What was that you said?”

His lips lifted at the corners, an entertained huff that won you a nudge of his nose to yours. His eyes softened slightly. And you thought you might fly out of your body.

“No more talk of cliffs,” he said, blatantly dodging your question.

An almost affectionate kiss to your forehead closed the book on the topic, but you’d remember what he said forever, the secret he accidentally shared. You’d already begun plotting the rooms you’d ransack for the language texts you found while he was battling Solo.

The mesmerizing crest to which he carried you ebbed further and further away. A fatigue seeped into your muscles and bones. At his withdrawal, an altogether bleak vacancy infused you with doubt, right down to your marrow. You tried to curtail the childish grumble, but it escaped through the harsh way you chewed the inside of your cheek. 

Had you been conquered or consecrated?

What you wanted at the moment was sleep. Whereas he needed none, you still required it daily, a marker of your human fragility. The bath, and its healing ripples, could wait until tomorrow. He did not see fit to allow you this luxury, however. Instead, he scooped you and the blanket you tried to wrap about yourself up. He stepped into the hallway and turned in the opposite direction you expected. You peered over his shoulder forlornly, having decided that a bath would be preferable to whatever this would be.

He walked towards the doorway that started this insanity, dousing the embers inside that had you believing you might make it through today. You shrank more and more into yourself the nearer it drew. A blind terror took over, but you couldn’t move a single cell to save yourself.

The choice he asked you to make meant less than nothing. His decisions were the only ones that mattered here; and having debased you, having obliterated all that you were, he intended to throw you out anyway.

You dared yourself to be furious, to find indignation and hate in the cavity where your heart should be, but there was none. There wasn’t fear either, only resigned acceptance. A heavy sigh sunk your shoulders down, and you closed bleary eyes. You might not fight your fate, but you wouldn’t welcome it.

But the blast and crackle of the portal opening did not come.

To your dismay, he set you on your feet in front of the free-standing obsidian wall in his throne room. The disturbing looking glass you tried so hard to avoid these days. The temptation to lose yourself to memories of Nona was too great. Scowling, you refused to face it. When he attempted to tip your face up, you stubbornly shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest.

It was his laugh that drew you out of what you were quite aware was a fit.

You amused him, and it might have annoyed you had it not been for your outright astonishment. It wasn’t a smile so much as a smirk, and it wasn’t a full laugh so much as a chuckle, but it was a thing you had absolutely no idea how to process. You’d only seen him angry, lewd, or uncaring. You didn’t know how to process…. affable.

Disregarding the flabbergasted look on your face, he turned you about, but you were so afraid of what you would see that you stepped backwards, trying to dodge what came next. His trunk-like arm cinched about your middle, anchoring you in place as he leaned over your shoulder on the right. He shushed your uneasy chirping and placed his hand upon the cool rock.

“Kylo,” the warble in your voice betrayed your apprehension, “I don’t…”

The picture burst onto the surface, cutting off the woeful entreaty you planned. It took a full minute before you understood what you looked at — the destruction of a world. Your hands flew to a throat filled with fiberglass. Revolt roiled in your stomach and turned to chalk in your mouth.

“No!” You yelled and thrashed. “I don’t want to see this!”

The aggravated rumble in his chest didn’t dull your attempt to look anywhere but where he wanted. His fingers at your side dug in painfully, cementing you to this spot. It wasn’t that you feared for your safety. With him engulfing you like this, there was no safer place to be. The concern was that you didn’t want to see what annihilation truly meant. You wanted that to remain as nothing you could imagine, the scope of it too far beyond your insipid, idiotic mind.

He wouldn’t let you go until you obeyed, though, and you knew it. The tears that had been threatening to spill for hours broke loose, rushing over your horrified flush. The devil at your ear spoke, but it was lost to the dreadful cinema playing out before you. There was only the ringing in your ears as you watched blackness detonate and spread outwards across a lovely land that was so alive before.

If he hoped to stun you into a stupor, he succeeded.

Your thunderstruck neglect allowed him to slide the blanket from around you and toss it aside. The next time his mouth found your pulse, it was with the press of his bare body to yours. He plied the back of your neck with slow kisses until you exhaled. You didn’t remember stopping, but a burn in your ribs forced the issue.

“D’Qar,” he said quietly as the dead planet faded.

Another took its place, and your mouth went slack. You couldn’t help but place your hands there to gag yourself or to foolishly forestall what already happened. It assuaged your own guilt by little more than a fraction. The next planet met the same gruesome end.

“Yavin Hoth.”

Your brow knit, and you tilted your head to hear him better. Taking advantage, he licked a stripe from his thorny collar to behind your ear.

“Dantooine.” 

The picture shifted once more; the devastation coming quicker and with less and less mercy. Your eyes shot open, bulging out with understanding. He begat a war inside of you with this burdensome lesson because you knew those planets. You recognized them from the miserable, despondent plight that led you here.

“Takodana. Ilum.”

Resistance planets.

Your knees buckled, the weight too great to bear. It was only his sturdiness that kept you from hitting the floor. With his ghastly slideshow finished, his hands were suddenly everywhere. Around your throat, squeezing your ribs, hauling you onto your toes with fingers in your sticky pussy.

“Is this not what you asked me for?” 

His dramatic declaration did not match the reality of what he was and what he did. He took your request, your dying wish, and hideously warped it. You asked for The Resistance to be exterminated, but what he’d done was use your heartbreak as an excuse to further his own cause. He wiped out entire worlds with you as his unwitting muse.

Worst of all — You couldn’t tell him to stop.

What did that mean for you?

You dropped into him, a sack of flour against marble. Torn between two truths, you choked on an appeal, unable to get it to leave your lips. The first was that you did this. You were responsible. There was no separating from the fact it was likely you who sparked the idea for his crusade. You’d unknowingly unleashed him upon the Galaxy when you asked him to avenge you.

The second was that you didn’t regret it. With all that happened, with the icy isolation, the bruises you bore for him, and the devastating fact that you’d snuffed out billions of lives, you regretted no part of it.

Disgust clogged your mouth and fattened your tongue. Many of those people did not deserve to die. The overwhelming majority of them did not deserve that fate. But The Resistance did. In the darkest pit of your heart, you were glad. Glad those planets were gone. Glad The Resistance lost so much. Glad he’d done what was in his nature and wiped so many of them from existence.

You were so mired in the swampy feelings and cloudy thoughts you didn’t feel the slide of his lips over your shoulder. It wasn’t until he pushed you face first into the thing that you broke from your reverie. Just in time for his mouth to connect with the bottom of your spine. You shot up to your toes when he bit your ass and hauled your hips back towards him.

Before you could protest, or think of why you ought to protest, he planted his face between your thighs and directly into the center of your cunt. You barked a curse, arching and squirming under the sinful slither of his tongue. At your front, his insistent thumb found your throbbing clit and pressed in, eliciting the most abject whine you’d ever produced.

It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted your blood, nor the first time he’d enjoyed toying with the rips he made in your fragile flesh. It was simply the first time he seemed to care if you enjoyed it.

You’d been in his bed for weeks, maybe years given Hosnia’s disparate slog through space and time; and though the first few encounters were decidedly more patient and mild, he’d long since tired of waiting for you. Lately, he fucked you hard and fast, and he didn’t care for anything other than filling you as many times as necessary for his seed to take root.

But now…

Now, Kylo Ren, Death, the embodiment of all endings, was on his knees. For you. 

He laved your cunt with his saliva and sucked your plasma-tinted slick down like candy. You vibrated each time his tongue delved into you and scratched at the infernally smooth surface to keep from tangling your fingers in his hair. His nose rubbed indecent parts of you that had never received such attention. His teeth tugged the engorged meat of your labia until it popped loose with a squelch. Your cunt pulsed around his probing, and he moaned in what sounded like delight.

Like a bitch in heat, you twitched in exquisite agony.

You pressed your forehead to the wall, barely upright, blinking heavily, and hardly seeing the floor. Overwhelmed was not an apt description for the moment, but it was the only one you could latch onto.

What you could see, however, what you could make out between your legs and just past his punishing hand, was the bob of his cock, recovered and standing tall, proud, and ready. The thought of him rendering you further asunder dropped you off the edge, and you shuddered. You couldn’t muster a moan through the orgasm; it was too entrenched in your guts, too laden with emotion.

But he knew. He knew, and he claimed it all with sloppy kiss after sloppy kiss to your exhausted lower half. Cunt. Thighs. Hips. Ass. Vertebrae. You hissed when he slid two impatient fingers into your well worn core to scoop out the very last remnants of your downfall.

He did it. He won. Conquered, not consecrated.

The tangy aroma of you wafted close by when he collected you in a new embrace. He folded you into his dizzying gravity, covetous of his prize.

“Kylo?”

Your brow crinkled because a strange flutter disrupted your equilibrium. You struggled to identify it because it had been so long since you felt it. You pressed a hand to your hot forehead, to your belly, to your ear, trying to uncover the source. Was it fever? Exhaustion? Had you pushed the limits of his spellbinding too far? 

Untroubled, he hummed his response into the side of your head, no doubt expecting another of the endless questions you produced.

And then it was there. This bodily function you’d forgotten because you didn’t need it here. 

“I’m really… hungry.”

Whatsoever The Ren offers me, I shall accept. He will carry me across dark waters, guide me to the distant shore, and bear me hence to my ancestors.

And I will praise his name for all my time there.

[savagetrickster]

Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler SMUT 

| Ciel x Wife!Reader

Note this: This is actually a smut spin-off from my BB fanfic which had ended, that's why it is in third PoV. But no worries, I have crafted this piece so that people who hasn't read the fanfic, could also read this. Enjoy!

Summary: It had been four years since they won their freedom to live life together. Nineteen and married, the guilty indulgence they shared had always been performed with restraints until now. In this cold winter, none of them thought they would be heating themselves up in the confines of his study. This time, he was no longer holding back.

Warning: Extremely kinky.

Themes: breeding kink, pregnancy, penetration

[  Heated Winter  ]

.

The scattered papers on the desk had been shoved aside. Some had fallen to the floor in the heat of their passion.

Their lips were all over each other. Wild hands were roaming across naked skin.

His warm, swollen cock was slick and drooling against her inner thighs with pre-cum.

The thighs under her bare bottom were coated with her arousal which wouldn't stop leaking.

She didn't exactly know how they ended up like this.

What felt like a minute ago, she was just standing behind him, her hands trying to knead those stiff shoulders.

His hands were still on his desk then, his fingers flittering through the paperwork spread out in front of his scowling face.

She knew Ciel had been stressed these recent days. Ever since he decided that he wanted to revive her family's dead business and let it flourish alongside his Funtom, he became even busier.

It did not sit right with her how he would sometimes end up working at it till the nights despite her numerous attempts to get him to rest. He had been adamant about doing this, and she knew he was doing this for her even though he would deny it every time she told him to forget about it.

Somehow recently, nights falling asleep without him beside her extended to two weeks. Oh, how she wished she could retract the casual, wistful thinking she voiced that one night. She had never thought her mere words would spurn him to attempt it.

It had been months since their wedding and there hadn't been enough windows of time to indulge in the guilty pleasure they both grew addicted to. Their desire to have kids was made known even before their big day but their inactions made it seem like they were mere afterthoughts.

She couldn't exactly figure out how they ended up discarding their respective tasks on hand. She could have sworn she was just giving him a shoulder massage while he remained focused on his work a minute ago.

Nothing more, nothing sexual to lead them to their current position.

There was no in-between.

Things happened so fast, driven by lust and sexual frustration. The pent-up stress and negligence for their needs seemed to be the culprit.

.

A trickle of saliva ran down her chin as soon as he released her lips from their desperate kiss.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders as his lips traveled down her neck, sucking and attacking at the right places. The moans breaking free just wouldn't stop at every point of pleasure.

She wasn't too worried about being heard, for everyone else was two floors below.

A hand slid up his head, burying her fingers into his soft dark hair as she felt him envelop her breasts in the warmth of his palms.

Her lips rested upon his shoulder blade, her muffled moans humming against him as the warm hand cupped to her left breast rolled her sensitive nipple between its fingers. Jolts and jolts of tingles shot through her as he tugged and kneaded the flesh.

Lost in the heat, his teasing lips left her neck before she could register.

A gasp found its way out of her mouth when the hand over her right nipple was suddenly taken over by his hungry lips. Her fingers buried in his hair tugged on as his hot tongue licked and rolled her pebbled nipple while he worked his mouth on the perky mound in a heated suckle.

The hand on the other was as busy as his lips.

The continuous sensations on her chest made her heated core ache even more.

Aching for the cock situated so deliciously near her tearing wet entrance.

Aching to be filled.

Aching for the release she had been waiting for.

She could sense a similar ache in his throbbing cock from the way it stood prodding against her stomach for attention.

Her free hand which had slid down to his back in the heat moved to attend to its weeping needs.

A hiss rushed up to her ears the moment she wrapped her fingers around his restless erection, her long, slim fingers instantly splaying across the slick tip, coating his entire length with his hot leaks. Her hand slid back up to the tip of his cock with a playful tug, increasing her grip with a squeeze.

Ciel tore his mouth away from her breasts with a groan at the delicious clench of her hand.

The carnal desire to shove his cock into her was starting to win him over.

Ciel had been straining against the overwhelming lust since the start because he wanted to give her the foreplay she deserved for his negligence of her needs.

He could feel himself starting to weaken against the crushing urge.

All it took was a daring, intricate tracing of the protruding veins on his needy, swollen cock to break his self-control. She knew that little action was more than enough - he was going to make sure she took responsibility for that.

The smirk on her smug, panting face faltered when his hands flew to her hips in an almost bruising grip.

Her eyes snapped to his, wide eyed. The raw hunger and intense lust in his reflected back at her as she felt him lift her off his lap. The descend down was guided by the hand on her hips and the other which had switched over to hold his yearning cock still.

His tip greeted her hot entrance with a kiss, the slit pushed apart with a wet squelching sound as soon as their juices met.

An eager push down, a strangled cry rang out of her mouth as his cock shot up into her, the whole length completely buried in one go.

"...You feel too good." Ciel clenched his eyes close with a growling moan, relishing the tightness wrapped around his cock.

He had to hold back the burning need to let himself go right now.

He lifted her up again, until only the tip of his throbbing cock was the only part left inside her. The muscles in the bruising grip on her hip tightening was the only warning before he slammed her down with an almost equally bruising force.

But there was no pain, only a shot of electrifying satisfaction at how his cock filled her completely in that one swift entrance.

The pace he started was faster than he usually would. He was desperate; he knew he couldn't hold himself back any longer. His cock rammed into her, delving in deep every time he pulled himself out to his tip before thrusting back in harsh, urgent snaps.

The sensations she was feeling was overwhelming. Even in the winter, the study felt so hot.

Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her senses were alarmingly high - she could hear and feel everything so clearly.

The broken whimpers leaving her lips at every thrust.

Slapping skin.

Wet squelching sounds.

His grunts and growls at every snap of his hips

Her sensitive nipples brushing over his chest at every bounce of her perky breasts.

All these filled her overheating senses.

Oh oh, and she missed this.

The amazing, addictive stretch of her cervix each time his cock was shoved into her.

And when he did this, she couldn't help but be aroused by the intensity in his gaze - the same one she noticed whenever he was focused on accomplishing his duties as the Queen's Watchdog.

Sometimes the intensity was even more. As though, he was bent on something.

Like now, it was there again.

The razor-sharp focus in his eyes triggered her walls to give a hard clench.

Just as responsive to the clasping pressure, the swollen cock right up her overstimulated hole swelled up even more in size as a groan fell from the tenacious Earl's lips.

A similar sound from her accompanied his as the burst of pressure made by his increased size stretched her walls even more.

Every nerve was screaming for a release.

So caught up in ecstasy, she didn't realize he was moving her to his desk until she found herself staring up at the ceiling.

The pace of his thrusts did not falter at all even as he moved them to his desk.

His items on the desk were pushed off onto the cushioned carpet below in his haste to get them in a better angle.

But all that fell past his concern.

The sight of her flushed face, slacked lips and her bouncing breasts from his towering stance was a powerful distraction from the mess around them and ignited a bigger flame in him.

Pulling her legs to his chest and over his shoulders, the slippery lubrication made from their mixed fluid made the change of his thrusting angle easy.

Her hands gripped hard onto his arms as she emitted a drawn moan at the mad rush of exhilaration the new position introduced itself with.

In this new angle, each dive of his cock was deeper and more precise, punching the right spot at every single thrust.

Her bruised nipples from his meticulous suckling earlier were not spared; they had been continuously rubbing against her knees ever since Ciel had curled her legs into her chest for this new angle.

"C-Ciel, I'm clos- Ahh!"

Her gaspy breath escalated into strangled cries when the snaps of his hips gathered speed.

"... Go ahead." Ciel murmured through gritted teeth.

The words she elicited told him she was ready. They were a relief to his ears, for her clutching walls were pushing him too close. It was hard to hold back any longer.

His chest expanded more rapidly as his hips began to stutter; the long-drawn thrusts descending into shorter rapid ones.

Tattered moans and hitching hot breaths escaped into the study as she felt herself drown in the erupting heat. His cock continued to hit the specific spot over and over again, relentless in its mission to seek hers and his release.

His whole body was perfectly lined with hers, chest pressed flush against the back of her bent legs.

His eyes stayed on her, drinking in the sinfully beautiful sight of her gasping under him. At the image of her struggle to keep up with his passion, a sudden thought of the consequence carved a deep hunger in him.

They already knew what they wanted even before their wedding.

Already far in their maturation years, they were ready long before this.

They have waited long enough.

This time, he was going all the way.

The furrow between his eyebrows deepened when the heat around his cock spasmed frantically in his haste to get her over the edge.

"Y-You..." He let out a shaky exhale,"...ready take it all in?"

The subtly powerful meaning in his question made her gasp. She wanted this.

"Y-Yes, p-please...!"

At her words, her body and the desk beneath shook more vigorously to his demanding, urgent thrusts.

She could feel herself coming undone; she was only a few more thrusts away from the edge. The extremely swollen cock dragging along her throbbing walls was making her see white flashes behind her eyelids.

"Ci-Ciel...!" A desperate cry of his name left her lips as her eyes rolled back at the starburst of her orgasm finally tearing through her for the release her body needed.

A sharp hiss reached her ears as her walls clamped down aggressively around him, sending an explosion of her release spilling over his diligent cock. Now coated with more slick, his thrusts grew even faster. His movements were sharp but unstable as he felt himself about to burst.

Still high on her intense release, she could feel another coming in quick as he charged into her.

Catching onto the breathtaking way the strong, tense look on her husband's face was quickly losing foot to the overwhelming passion of his own coming release, her second orgasmic wave was aroused to approach faster than the first.

His thrusts were desperate and frenzied until his hips finally jerked and buckled erratically into hers.

Face scrunched up at the bloom of ecstasy ripping through him, Ciel tensed with a grunt just as a broken moan tore out of her throat.

The broken moan rode through her throat as ropes and ropes of his seeds continued spurting from his twitching cock and filling her womb so much that a few trickles managed to slip out of her soaked cunt.

Her eyes wavered at the mind-blowing pressure that was jerking deep inside her from the relentless ruts of his hip into hers, not stopping even after he had released his load. As if every drop of his semen mattered to him.

Her chest heaved and fell fast as she tried to come down from her high. She could feel the quiver of her legs over his shoulders.

"Th-That was amazing. We- Ah!"

The sudden circling movement of their hips drew out a startled moan from her.

The warm fluid stirring inside her quieting walls made her look up at Ciel.

The satisfied glint in his gaze and the object of his focus made her blush.

Not yet pulling away, his cock still buried in her depth stirred in sync with the small jerks of his hip.

Her head fell back onto the desk with a shaky sigh at the small jolts of pleasure at every small touch of pressure.

The soft wet squelches every time a pressure was applied to her walls were clearly audible. The blush on her face intensified at how erotic they sounded.

Peering at him, she tried to understand what he was doing. He looked keen about something.

Ciel pulled away just as she was about to fire her question.

She sat up.

"W-What was that about?" She asked raspily, shuddering at the emptiness he left behind.

"I heard it helps." Ciel answered vaguely with a smiling glint in his eyes.

He pulled her into a kiss before she could ask more. Unlike the rough and desperate one that usually led them to sex, his lips were gentle as if he was caressing her. The touch on her lips was soothingly warm and tender with his affection.

When he finally pulled away, he had an unreadable glint in his eyes.

"Be extra careful from now on."

An air of silence followed her as she tried to understand those words.

Then it hit her.

"Oh."

The intense meaningful gaze watching the dawn of her realization made her look away bashfully.

A new forming blush bloomed across her face.

[itsmydreamlifethings]

Requested by @scorpionchild81:

Henry x reader: after some months apart, due to Henrys career - they end up in the bedroom after a super romantic evening. As they almost rip each others clothes of, their lovemaking is intense, rough and steamy! Its gets to the point to that she passes out in the heat of the moment...

Warnings: All the smut: Language, Oral, Fingering...hell, all of it. (18+. You’ve been warned.) Do not repost anywhere outside of TUMBLR!

The moment you stepped foot inside the airport, your heart quickens. You’ve been dating Henry for a year now, but he’s been gone for three whole months, working on a brand new project. The thought of seeing him again, flesh and bone, made your entire body tingles with nerves and excitement.

It seemed like an eternity passed before finally you see him. His huge frame standing on the descending escalator, surrounded by other people. He has his assistant a couple of staff, as he insists he doesn’t need body guards or anyone to really draw more attention to him. 

His eyes spot you immediately and he grins. Your heart races so fast you can hear it in your ears. He comes over, drops his bag on the floor and wraps you into his arms. The warmth of his body pressed so closely to yours is like heaven. You have missed his cologne, a musky and citrusy blend, and the way his muscles tighten and then release as you mold into him.

“Baby, finally,” he whispers then pulls back slightly. He kisses you gently on the lips, but it’s brief. You’re both not huge fans of making out in public, especially in front of his staff, but of course he couldn’t wait to greet you properly with a soft kiss.  You take his appearance in. You’ve facetime with him a million times the last three months, but in person he’s even more handsome. He’s clean shaven, wearing a navy blue sweater that brings out the steel color of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home, beautiful,” he says and snaked an arm around your waist as you leave the airport.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You and Henry had rented a place together about five months ago. It’s a penthouse in the heart of NYC and even though you’re both more into a countryside living, you both agreed this location suits your life and career at the moment.

By the time you’re back home and get settled, it’s evening. You had prepared a lovely welcome home dinner for Henry, which he devoured. Away from the cameras and his staff, his demeanor has changed from careful to downright touchy and clingy. You’re not complaining.

Slipping away for a few moments, and feeling grateful your boyfriend is back for a long while, you stare outside the wall size penthouse window. Millions of little lights glare as NYC’s night life begins to stir. Somehow the lights and commotion sooth you, almost lulling you into a lazy feeling.

Just then, Henry’s arms snake around you as he presses his chiseled body against your back. His lips nip and kiss your neck, his hot breath tickling you. You angle your neck, making space for him.

“Baby, I missed you so much,” he whispers. Hs voice is a deep growl, one you have missed so dearly. It comes out when Henry’s lustful side comes out in full force.

“I missed you too,” you coo. 

“Yeah? Show me,” he counters, but before you can even answer, he flips you around and pushes you against the enormous window. You gasp, his body pressing close to you, closing any distance. He kisses you, softly at first, but then his tongue finds its way inside your mouth, and once it meets your tongue, they can’t help but engage in a passionate dance. His lips and tongue taste amazing. 

His hands slide under your dress and you can tell that both of your pent up sexual frustration is about to culminate. He practically tears your panties off, and before you know it he has thrown you on the couch, slipping two fingers inside you.

“Fuck,” he groans, your wetness dripping all over his fingers. “You did miss me, baby.” He pumps his fingers and curls them with each thrust in, hitting your g-spot in the most delicious way. But that’s ho sex with Henry has always been. He knows exactly where your spot is and knows how to work it too. Soon, you’re unleashing the best, overdue orgasm on his hand, and he grunts, the feeling of your juices on him driving him wild.

You’re relishing in the last waves of your orgasm as Henry grabs your thighs and places them over his shoulder as he crouched between your legs. 

“Henry--” you moan, but he’s already in the zone, his tongue burying inside your folds and sensually licking up the evidence of your orgasm. 

“I missed the way you taste,” he murmurs, then plunges his tongue again and follows it with a nibble. “So sweet.”

The way he’s eating you surprises you with a second orgasm, another wave of pleasure peaking into ecstasy. Your heart is beating rapidly and you’re trying to catch your breath as Henry pulls back and grins at you. He reached up to your face, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his lips. 

Then he picks you up and throws you over his shoulders, carrying you to your bedroom. He throws you down on the king size bed and steps back. He starts by peeling out of his t-shirt, revealing the hard, thick muscles he’s been working hard of for the last project. You eye him with delight, still not believing this gorgeous, sexy man is all yours.

When he unbuttons his pants and pulls them down together with his briefs you feel another bout of lust come over you. His dick is completely erect, so hard and veiny that it reminds you again how he stretches you when he’s inside you.

In one quick stride, he returns to the bed and grabs your hips. It’s clear he is so aroused, so impossibly hungry for you, and so pent up with sexual energy, that he is going to devour you like a savage. Flipping you around on all fours, he clenches your hips tightly, forcing your ass up higher. Most of the time, he takes slow deliberate thrusts, easing his big member inside you. But now, starving for you, he isn’t about being gentle.

He pushes in deeply, making you cry out. His cock pushes against your walls, stretching and splitting you in the most amazing way. You moan lewdly, unsure how you’d be able to tolerate another mind blowing orgasm. Within minutes, Henry’s pumping inside you, hard and fast, his usual coordinated rhythm dominated only by his need to have you, to fill you up, and to take what’s his. His thrusts are deep and violent, and although you are hypnotized by the way he takes you, loving the way he claims you, you’re feeling light headed. He drains you for a long time, pumping and thrusting, over and over again, his stamina topping any other great sex sessions you ever had. His hand grasps your hair and pulls your head back. You can see his darkened eyes. They’re filled with animalistic need, his thirst for you reaching a brand new level.He loves seeing your long, dark hair curtaining down your back. He yanks on the strands, eliciting a loud, sinful scream from you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, sweetheart,” he groans, his breathing becoming erratic.

You keep moaning and screaming, each of his thrust a mixture of ecstasy and pain.You feel his dick tremble inside you as the head slams into your cervix, and much to your shock, another orgasm begins to roll inside you. Henry’s own release is coming and he decides to move back onto his haunches and bringing up to ride him as you still have your back to him. An orgasm overtakes you both as he slams you up and down his cock, his strong hands grasped at your hips, sure to leave some nasty bruises. He spills inside you, a loud groan erupting from his chest and a cry from yours.

You fall onto the mattress, sweat layering your body and tears of pure joy and a sensitivity running down your face. Henry rolls next to you, patting your back.

“I-I need water,” you whimper, barely able to catch your breath. You stand up but a foot away from the bed, you feel so lightheaded that the room spins. You fall to the ground, blackness overtaking you until your eyes close and you pass out.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Shit, babe, are you ok?” Henry’s voice trails over to you as you open yours.

You watch him, his curls still dampened by sweat and sticking to his forehead. He has his cell phone in his hand, the other one behind your head. You’re lying back on the bed, still naked, and he places the cell down.

“I should call 911,” he says, worry causing worry lines on his forehead.

“What? No, no, I am fine.”

“Y/N, you passed out, I should call an ambulance,” he counters.

You giggle and sit up on your elbows. You still deel a bit dizzy and probably dehydrated, but you are feeling back to yourseld. “And tell them what? I fucked my girlfriend until she fainted.”

His face turns red and he smiles sheepishly. “Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You caress his face. “You didn’t, Henry. It was just a .....wonderfully rough lovemaking session. My blood pressure spiked, I am dehydrated, and I just got fucked within an inch of my life.” You smile at him and wink. “Just get me some water, honey, I’ll be ok.”

He leans in and kisses you. “You sure? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

You savour the taste of his lips. “I promise.”

“Okay, but it’s nothing but cuddles and rest fo the night,” he warns. He gets up and heads to the kitchen to grab you a drink. Once back in the bed, he tucks you in, and takes his side of the bed. He wraps you closed into his arms, your head lying on his chest. He massages your scalp gently and places soft kisses on the top of your head.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asks, heavy concern still lacing his words.

You nod. “Yes. Better than I have in a long, long time.”

[nurseofren]

Request pls 🥺 Philip Altman waking up the reader by jerking off on top of her? Thank you 🥵🥵🥵

Warnings: PIV sex, fingerfucking, mutual masturbation, cream pie, cum eating, fluff at the end but not really. I spelled his name wrong throughout this entire thing, though I swore it had only one L. Smh endure lmao I’m not fixing it.

ST Rambles: I love this man. He is such an idiot. But a hot one. I have another request for shower sex w Philip and I’m v excited!

--

A constant pattern of sound took you from sleep, your eyes fluttering open and shutting in rejection when you glimpsed the bright green numbers on the alarm clock. It was a little past three in the morning. 

You flopped a languid hand beside you, in search of Philip. He was usually passed out cold at this time, but he was gone. 

“Philip?” Words grated against your groggy throat.

A louder noise - tense, breathy, and needy - woke you up further. Blinking hard one more time and spinning your head forward, you found your boyfriend in all his glory. No clothes. Flushed cheeks. Parted lips. Desperate eyes targeting your chest.

He was heaving over you, broad shoulders flexing fluidly in the shadowed room. Light glinted off his teeth when his lips pulled back into dark smirk, eyes staying put. A choppy collection of hair obstructed some of his forehead, sweat tinging the ends. 

A second longer and you felt the warm presence of a hand kneading your breast. You looked down and Philip pinched your nipple until your eyes snapped up to his.

“Wanna join me?” His tongue swiped out over his bottom lip as his eyes drifted down toward somewhere you hadn’t looked, though you’d suspected.

Mouth drying and cunt throbbing, you crawled up on your elbows and looked to find two massive, flexing thighs framing your legs. In their center was the flushed flesh of the enormous cock you held a claim on. Philip’s hand was furious, the hand on your chest partially keeping balance as he leaned forward and stroked himself over you. 

He’d already removed the sheets which once shielded you, the cold air barely apparent while he bathed you in his body heat. Watching him for a moment, seeing precum form and gather and glide down his shaft while he worked himself masterfully, you felt your walls flutter with need. Desire stuck hot and thick in your throat. You needed him inside you, wanted to feel his cum fill you just as much as you wanted to feel it drip out.

“Fucking Christ, Altman.” It was a moan. Yearning and whiny.

Philip’s hand landed heavy next to your head when he brought his face right to yours. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Long fingers scooped the back of your skull and pulled your head up, his lips crushing yours while waves of quick, huffed breaths washed over your cheeks. You swiveled your hips up to prompt his down, feeling his cockhead slide between your folds easily. You were wet, so ready to take him at any given moment.

“Mm, such a slut. You even want me in your sleep, don’t you?”

Teeth catching his bottom lip, you bit until he grunted. “Hm, maybe, but I at least keep it to myself.” 

A laugh chimed between the two of you. Philip guided himself over your entrance and pushed the tip just barely inside. A sharp gasp left you. You wanted him more than you’d thought.

“Rub your clit, I’m not taking my time.”

“If you can even make me cum to begin with.”

A frenzy flashed in his eyes when his hand grabbed around your throat and compressed your arteries. While he did this he slammed into you, a merciless movement so your entrance stung in pain before it could set in pleasure at his fullness.

“Oh, so is this a challenge?” 

After a few seconds he permitted your blood flow, a head rush quickly booming in your ears, body settling into his presence. He was impossibly big, every time he fucked you, you could hardly believe his size. It felt like it was choking you, and partially it was; a sputter of moans croaked onto his neck in response to his unrivaled cock. 

“No. No. No challenge.” You really just wanted him to fuck you back to sleep, wanted to revel in how he felt. “Philip, baby--” you laved up his pulse and teethed at his lobe “--fuck me breathless. Simple. That’s what I want.”

Philip could never resist when you called him pet names, or when you neared anywhere close to his ears. He was instant putty in your hands, picking a pace and building from there. First he was slow, letting you feel all of him, allowing himself to slide into your wet cunt until his balls met the heated flesh. Quickly, though, as you were both impatient, he began a steady, punishing pace.

The sound of slapping skin fell in line with his thrusts, squelches adding a sense of urgency as you swiped over your clit and aided him in constructing your orgasm. Both his forearms were at either side of your head now, his fingers knotted in your hair as he kept his lips on yours, his tongue swiping sparks over your own.

He laughed to himself while he continued pressing sloppy kisses into your lips. “You’re close.” It was a sing-song tone.

“Shut up for once in your life.” He was right, and your panted words proved that.

He shook his head against yours. Your free hand plunged red streaks down his back, biting into the flexed flesh and earning moans with each trail. There was a slight skip in his pace.

“Hm, you’re closer, though.”

“Alright, so this is a challenge.” Philip pulled completely out of you, sitting back on his knees and robbing you of warmth and fullness.

“What the fuck?” You rested back up to your elbows and stared at him while frustration bloomed below your waist.

“Keep touching your clit.” His eyes had darkened.

“And if I don’t?”

“Stop being such a brat and listen for once in your life.” He was no longer playful like before. Command obvious in his words.

Narrowed eyes peered back at each other, his brow raising as to question if you really wanted to test him. Rolling your eyes, you did as he said, pressing a pattern of swipes into the raised flesh, fire burning deep in your belly. Philip watched you pleasure yourself with hungry eyes.

Too quick for you to protest, not that you would’ve, he plunged three fingers into your core.

“Oh my God! Philip!” The sudden intrusion catapulted you towards release, leaving heat to form fast and fester as you continued over your clit.

He drew back and hooked his digits so they worked your g-spot. A stutter of whines came, your cheeks on fire and your thighs quaking.

“So, I can’t make you cum, hm?” He kept stoking himself, a fast hand gripping around his aching cock. His whole chest had turned red, his cheeks obvious even in the darkness. 

“I nev- never said that,” a grimace formed as you felt the first flickers of an orgasmic flood coming, “Philip, please!”

A drop of sweat formed and fell from the tip of his nose and onto your inner thigh. The tiny sensation felt enormous in the presence of an impending climax. Keeping focus on the fist over his cock, translating its speed into the finger tips over your clit, you felt a crest of bliss glitter over your skull.

As a moan pushed past gritted teeth, you looked into his eyes to find he was already searching your own, his face tight in its own contortion of potentiating pleasure.

“Cum. Now.” 

Spit sprayed past his teeth and onto your exposed skin, your body obeying without objection. You jumped willfully into release, letting your pussy clench around his fingers, thanking the heavens he kept them there, swiping over your clit even while you were in the throes of and basking in pleasure.

Philip grunted, hand still bludgeoning his erection until you felt the familiar hot, sticky presence of his cum collect and drip down your folds.

You felt a quick pressure over your entrance, the feeling drawing a mewl in your state of recovery. Philip had a point to prove, and you knew which one it was, already having your mouth open to receive his seed.

He pressed heavy fingers onto your tongue, your lips forming a seal around the salt-covered flesh and sucking him clean, laving between them and biting at his knuckles when you were done. Dazed eyes looked up at him, a sated hand catching onto his wrist and pressing the palm of his hand onto your chest.

He swam in your gaze a little longer, eyes peering down your sweat-lit body and then to the alarm clock. His eye twitched before he settled in next to you, nuzzling into your neck and pulling your waist into his hips.

He hummed, pressing gentle pecks along back of your neck, a hand settling between your breasts and gripping onto the one nearest to him. You lined your fingers up with his grip, swiping your thumb over his own.

“I win,” he breathed.

You bit back a smile, basking in his warmth and twisting your hips into his, knowing exactly what you were doing.

I win, you thought. I always win when I’m with you.

[vasoula]

The Peepshow (chapter three)

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and  Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time  together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a  special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

You can also read it on ffnet and Ao3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Author's notes: The grand finale of my three way saga ends here with a bang! Beware this chapter is hard M, lots of naughty things happening here ;) This monster is almost 10k on its own XD BTW this is the only chapter my friend strawberrycreampiefluff has not read, even though this is a collab between us and the story was her inspo, so this is a surprise for her also. I hope everybody enjoys this fic, comment your thoughts. Ah, I didn't know which way to end it because this is quite self indulgent and the main theme of the fic was teasing so the ending is similar. One day, maybe, I will write a continuation. Thank you everyone for your love and support!

“Act three: Jealousy will drive you mad”

With two powerful stomps and a determined expression on her face, Sakura reaches for the doorknob and pulls.

Sasuke does indeed greet her in the doorway. It is obvious from the casual attire he has put on that he was also about to go to bed; his toned physique is adorned with gray sweatpants and a light blue shirt.

The pink haired woman has no clue what riles her up the most. Is the way those simple clothes cling onto him like second skin emphasizing his fit body or is it the way he is staring her with those bewitching mismatched eyes of his? She cannot wait to find out.

"Sakura," he says in the usual lethargic timbre he uses to pronounce her name.

She blinks her eyes at him fast in response to make sure she is seeing right.

"What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun?", Sakura asks, "It's late."

She casually points out it is time for sleep and not time for late night conversations in her room the two of them alone, together. It does the trick because Sasuke seems to realize a few things about their current situation. His eyes lose focus and start their slow descend, carefully scrutinizing what she is wearing.

His gaze stops his inspection the moment it reaches her chest, zeroing on her breathing pattern and the way some parts of her body stand out thanks to the chilly weather. Sasuke's impassive face instantly changes, his cheeks and ears coloring in a nice red hue.

Then, without much thought, his observation continues and he bites his lip at the display of her bare legs so up close.

For the life of her, Sakura cannot fathom that Sasuke Uchiha is blatantly checking her out.

Feeling self conscious, she hugs herself and steps sideways to allow the man to come into the room. Her blush matches his in response.

Sasuke finally – finally moves from his position and steps into her territory.

Putting a few loose pink strands behind her ear, Sakura closes the door quietly and props her body on it, hands coming to rest between her backside and the wood.

She lets the silence hang on for a few minutes allowing Sasuke to take his time to make up his mind.

"I came here to apologize," he speaks after a while, "I am sorry."

Sasuke peers at her from his spot in the middle of room, shuffling his feet unconsciously.

He looks down, "I shouldn't have interfered with your mission," and spins around to face her bed instead. "It was brash and uncharacteristic of me."

His apology sounds genuine enough, but that still does not excuse the fact he acted out of the ordinary for no reason.

Sakura has had it with this man. Even though she feels beyond furious with him, the girl prefers not to argue with him.

"Apology accepted." She announces curtly. "Still doesn't explain the reason you decided to interfere, Sasuke."

The lack of honorific translates to failure in Sasuke's book of apologies. He tries to take another route. Although he came inside her room prepared and resolute to be honest with her, it seems his pride and ego are still in the way.

"Sakura, you know I am not good at this," He deflates in frustration, "I am not good -"

Sasuke pauses abruptly, not capable of continuing his next sentence. Why is it so hard for him to confess his feelings? How does Sakura do it? Why can he not be more like her when it comes to matters like these?

The lone Uchiha knows how he feels about her, his heart hammering in his chest is that much of a clue. Since he was a young boy- he has always known -what he felt towards her. There is a special connection, even the most logical part of his brain cannot grasp it enough to explain it. It should not make sense how strongly he feels about her without him even comprehending it when growing up.

It has been building up since the start, those emotions have been lying dormant for years, slowly but surely pestering inside his heart. His mind always conjuring up images of her lovely smiles and her healing words. Her confessions and trials towards him whispering hotly in his ears and driveling his mind mad into oblivion.

For such a foolish little game she was playing, her opinion is sure important and sufficient to have him questioning his moralities; her words festering inside his heart and poisoning his mind with good prospects in life like love and family. Who is he to deny her anything when at times he was ready to sacrifice everything he thrived for just to keep her safe? He can try but ignoring his feelings like he used to do in the past is no solution anymore.

Sasuke recalls everything about her until now and comes to one realization.

Sakura was, is and will always be precious to him.

"What?" The woman, plaguing his thoughts, asks defeated. She pushes herself off the wooden door and takes a big step forward.

Thinking what he can possibly do to make things better, he comes up with an idea.

Following along, Sasuke moves closer to her, leaning the right side of his body to a pillar next to him. He is right across her now.

"I am more of a man of action-", he starts trying to redeem himself with his compensatory qualities.

"Then do something -", she explodes, interrupting him mid sentence.

Sakura puts her foot down hard, literally stumping it to the ground. With her fists balled to her sides and a snarl on her face, she feels her patience running out.

The woman looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to do something – anything.

Sasuke's ears are roaring, his pulse skyrocketing. He is breathing hard now, his gaze penetrating as he surveys every aspect of Sakura's face. From her rosy cheeks, to her heated eyes and at last to her luscious, red lips.

She hears him before she sees him react. A hard punch to the pillar he has been leaning on signals he too has reached his limit.

With two fast strides, in speed only Sasuke is capable of, he pushes her against the door with his body. His right hand comes up and he tangles his fingers in her hair, cradling her upper half in urgency.

His stump meets her waist halfway in an attempt to hold her.

"I am losing my mind here, Sakura," He confesses unabashedly, looking at her straight in the eye.

The girl in question glances up at him, his sudden embrace unexpected, but welcome nevertheless. Both of her hands are at his torso, her clenched fists clasping his shirt tightly and crumpling it in the process. Thanks to the position of her grip, she feels his heart beating fast inside his chest – a sign that rings true to his earlier statement.

Searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort and finding none, she makes it easier for both of them and inches closer; her mouth a breath away from his lips.

Sasuke's eyes open and close languidly in response, her glittering irises and pampered freckles on her nose the last thing he sees before he leans in to kiss her.

Sakura spots stars behind her closed eyelids the moment their lips finally touch. It is nothing more than their mouths caressing each other in slow strokes, but the implications of that innocent kiss are more than enough for the two of them.

Feeling brave, the pink haired woman wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her. Her heart is about to jump off her chest, aware of his hard yet lean body flash against her. They do not have any prior experience to this, but with their instincts leading them on, they are matching each other just right.

Sasuke feels something inside his head clicking into place, like a puzzle being completed; the repressed emotions inside of him exploding into a thousand pieces. The way he loves and displays it might be crooked, but when he has the woman he adores in his arms, he knows, he can conquer any emotional disadvantage he may encounter.

It seems everything that happens next plays out like it is in slow motion.

Grabbing her by the hip, Sasuke begins to move. Sakura arches into him, their kiss turning deeper. With the tall man leading them on, the couple turns around, mirroring their previous position, but with Sakura on top this time.

"Lift your legs," Sasuke quietly orders with his back against the door. Sakura obliges wordlessly and jumps slightly. Putting pressure on his shoulders, Sakura breaks their kiss for a split second and wraps her thighs around his waist, locking them tightly.

Sasuke's lone arm comes and finds its position snugly under her backside, palm open on her butt cheeks. Without so much a strain, years of physical exertion being put into work, Sasuke lifts her off the ground easily.

Sakura, still preoccupied with Sasuke's soft lips, does not realize their compromising position. Gently coursing her hands through his hair, she caresses his scalp while kissing him tenderly.

With his limbs busy and his vision limited, Sasuke takes a few cautious steps forward. With the bed as final destination, he carefully maneuvers them through the room. A few centimeters away, the mattress lies warm and inviting.

Their kiss stops abruptly when Sasuke's foot comes in contact with outpost of the bed. Lips breaking apart and breaths mingling, they stare silently into one another.

Realizing where the course of their situation is taking them, both of them pause.

Sakura searches his eyes and sees the lust mirrored in them similar to her own. With a determined expression, she grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him down with her the moment she lets herself fall back into the mattress.

Trying to stop his body from crushing her, Sasuke's arm goes forward and he places his hand next to her head. He lets out a disgruntled sound and lets his face fall into the soft cushions of her breasts.

"Sakura," he mumbles incoherently. In response, the girl in question lets out a sigh of pleasure and relief.

She knows the implications and relishes in them. No dream or fantasy could counter that moment in her mind.

Sasuke hesitantly looks up, face heating up slowly. Then, feeling suddenly nervous, he glances sideways, a scowl forming.

Being on top of Sakura, her body body pliant underneath him and her lips bruised from their intense kissing had him feeling some type of way. But, god, her face is what made him look away. Nothing prepared him for this.

Sakura makes a sound in the back of her throat, her teeth biting hard her plump bottom lip. She bats her eyes at him, light pink eyelashes fanning against her rosy cheeks prettily. Sasuke pretends to ignore her, even though he keeps stealing glances at her.

Sakura cannot believe there would come a day where the great Sasuke Uchiha, the infamous avenger, would be shy with her.

Hot stares and naughty smirks are more his thing than awkward and fleeting looks.

Sasuke is nervous, no one taught him how to handle situations like these.

Love is a new, unknown part in his life, and he is quite unprepared.

Wordlessly, she lifts her hand and touches the right side of his face.

He looks gorgeous like this, all strong bone structure and pale white skin. His aristocratic nose scrunching up in distaste, because he dislikes the fact he has no control.

"What?" The Uchiha finally looks at her and asks. He purses his lips and drags his body forward a little bit.

Sasuke is snugly on top of her now, their chests pressed together closely.

Sakura starts caressing his cheek, staring lovingly into his eyes.

"I thought I couldn't love you more than I do," she takes a shuddering breath, her eyes watering slightly. "But, I do."

Sasuke takes the whispered confession in, his throat bobbing. He feels so emotional right now, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He clutches at her words, her proclamation consuming him like it did in the past.

The inner turmoil inside him makes his eyes burn. He struggles to find the words to express what he feels for her. The capacity to love and care endless, unlimited for her. A never ending waterfall of emotions washing his wrongdoings away.

The power coursing through his veins is nothing in comparison to the power she has over him. She could bend him all she wants, mold his being all the way to nothingness and put his pieces right back to their rightful place. No darkness inside of him is strong enough to overcome him as long as she loves him. Her light nourishing him and making him feel alive again.

So many thoughts plaguing his mind, but no words are enough to describe his admiration for her. He wants to convey though, he has to try. For her, going forward in life, he has to try.

"You make me feel alive," he shares with her, "I need you close to me,"

Sasuke utters in a mere whisper, but with each syllable his drive to confess grows tenfold. "I love you," he breaks, voice cracking in the end.

He closes his eyes to get his bearings for a second and hears Sakura's breath hitch.

Sakura feels her soul quivering in her chest; she went to heaven and back.

Before anymore tears could escape her eyes however, she quickly shuts them close. This is no reason for her to cry, for this is a happy moment. She sniffles and opens her jade orbs again. The sight that greets her makes her feel like her entire being is being consumed by hot molten lava. The man of her dreams is staring at her, his eyes intense – an endless inferno of feelings exposed for her to cherish.

Her throat bobs in anticipation at the prospect of him acting out what his eyes are conveying.

"Sakura," he says and nudges her chin with his nose.

Sasuke senses her shiver underneath him even though the temperature of the room is far from low. No matter, he is starting to sweat so he decides to undress. Knowing where this is leading them, he pushes himself up and straddles her, knees on either side of her body. Using his lone hand he grabs the outer part of his cotton shirt from behind and lifts it forward over his head.

Sakura gasps beneath him, eyeing him up and down in appreciation. That escalated way better than what she had in mind. Years of need, aching deep within her.

Her hands twitch and she tries to think clearly despite the situation.

"W-what are you doing Sasuke-kun?", she mumbles worriedly.

After finishing his task, the man in question looks down at her. The left side of mouth lifts in haughty grin before he can stop himself. Now, now what a nice view, he thinks.

Sakura's hair has created a beautiful pink halo around her head, matching her flaming, flushed cheeks. Those unique eyes of her sparkle in the dark, passion shining through clearly in them. Her lips part sensually in silent plea for him to claim her.

She wants this as much he does.

"Hot," he answers. The sensation of her, needy, under him or the room temperature are either correct interpretations.

He knows she likes what she sees. His athletic, lean body is no secret, but for him to display it so proudly to her strokes his ego in all the right places. No woman can appreciate him the way she does. Her pure devotion fascinates him, her hungry stares excite him. Only she has that effect on him. She may be the one to yearn for him since the beginning, but he is the one that has been suffering in silence for so long.

She has been loud, clear, but he has been repressed and tortured with his own fondness right along with her. He wants to toy with her a little more, tease her with some scalding remarks until she is dripping wet with fervor, but alas his patience is running out.

His arm stretches out and his hand reaches her throat, her eyes following along his every movement. His fingertips tenderly graze her pulse point, her skin alight with heat.

Goosebumps rise on her skin, his touch creating thousand fires along her neck. He is stalling, they both know it. But, she continues to stay pliant under him allowing him to continue his ministrations.

His eyes burn in a hankering frenzy, analyzing every little reaction he can get out of her before she turns the tables on him.

She closes her eyes in pleasure, throat stretching out and torso lifting, baring more surface for him to please.

Sakura breaths heavily, legs squeezing shut. She cannot believe this kind of simple form of touch brings forth this much twisted pleasure out of her. This is too light for it to be even considered foreplay, yet...she can get off just to the thought of him even touching her.

"N-no…" she tries to halt the upcoming teasing.

She is weak and needy and she knows he will abuse this knowledge to the fullest. He has always been a person to test her limits. Sasuke loves having the upper hand.

His hand slowly goes down and it reaches her ribcage, right at the center. Her nipples harden in response and she feels Sasuke shift above her.

When something hard grazes her stomach, her insides quiver. She is affecting him even though she is doing nothing to him in return.

Sasuke's movements stop abruptly when he realizes his body has been reacting quite positively to the display. He feels himself confined in his loose pants, the underwear straining against his hard length. Apparently, the object of his desires noticed it too.

This is where he loses the battle it seems.

Sakura opens her eyes slowly, her hands reaching her torso. Both of her palms lay flat on top of his hand – trapping him there. She takes it and starts to move it around her body, showing him just where she would enjoy for him to touch her.

When it reaches her right breast, she lets it loose. Sasuke keeping eye contact with her starts to massage her mound; first tenderly and then more roughly.

Depending on the reactions he gets out of her, his fingers play with her hardened nub, her thin t-shit an extra layer of teasing against her sensitive skin there.

Not knowing what to do with her free arms, she decides to test her power. She splays them flat on top of her lover's chest without so much a thought. His skin is a little cold and damp from sweat, his nervousness slipping through bodily fluids rather than expressions. Going up and down with each hand, she caresses his taught stomach, abs prominent against his skin.

Sasuke hums in response, an appreciative tone somewhere hidden in there.

Sakura makes it her mission to get more reactions out him before he finds out just how wet he has made her down there. His chest is there, pecs hard and her fingers skim over his nipples with a feather like touch.

His eyes clump shut and his body leans forward a little bit. He bites his lip and lets out a small sigh. Sakura smiles triumphantly knowing she is staring to push his buttons. Her hands descend lower, fingers toying with the waistband of his trousers.

Sakura looks from where her hands are, the bulge obvious and near to collision with the inside of her left wrist. She purses her lips and risks glancing up at him. He is breathing harder now, his hair falling like a curtain, his side bang hiding half of his face.

"Don't," comes out the strained response.

His jaw is taught, the angles of it sharp, someone would think he is mad.

He is mad alright, mad with desire.

Sasuke has been thinking a lot about these kind of moments the last few months, his mind conjuring up scenarios and positions – dirty, dirty little longing.

Nothing has prepared him for this sensation. He is powerless against her, needing her to feed his solicitude with ardor. Still though, greedy for her as he is, he struggles to shred his shyness away.

She sees right through him and pauses. "Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

In an abrupt movement, he grabs her hand, grip strong on her wrist and slams it right back at the bed, near her head. An act of dominance will not hinder Sakura obedient so soon. She fights right back, seeing Sasuke struggle to keep her hand in place.

Sakura huffs and smiles smugly up at him. His face stays impassive, but his eyes glint dangerously.

Thinking she has won this round, the woman prepares a trotting remark. However, Sasuke renders her speechless with his next move. Abandoning his place above her, he straightens up and pushes his knee right between her legs, just below her searing heat. His lone arm reaches out and grips her left thigh roughly, pinning it backwards and spreading her legs apart in an instant.

Sasuke smirks devilishly at her.

The new position and attitude leaves her all hot and bothered.

Then, his hand finds its place just below her belly button. Leaning forward, he grabs one side of her shorts and starts pulling it towards him. Stunned, she allows him to take them off her.

Sakura wants, needs...she craves to see just how much further he can take it.

But despite all the excitement to see Sasuke's walls fall apart in front of her, she cannot help it when she tries to hide her half naked body from him. Only a thin layer of underwear is keep them apart. Feeling shy now is useless, but god these feelings in her heart are so intense and Sasuke acting out all her desires does not help her at all.

Sakura squeezes her legs shut, thighs pressed deliciously together and stomach taught - straining to keep her lower body hidden from his hungry eyes as much as she can.

In a way, Sakura muses, she is teasing him further by denying him access. Sasuke hates disobedience as much as he hates not getting what he wants.

As always impressed by her strength – even in bed – he clasps her knee and tries pushing it apart. "You don't have to ever hide from me." Sasuke says heatedly.

"I-I," Sakura struggles to find the right words, her blushing cheeks a hot flame on her face. "Sasuke-kun, please," she tries to prolong the inevitable.

How can he be so cool about this when they both know how reserved they are? Be that as it may, they both covet each others' touch and they have been doing so since their younger years.

Knowing she can hide herself no more and she is willing to give all of herself to him, all her scars and her invisible wounds, the pink haired beauty spreads her legs apart, baring her womanly figure to him.

It occurs to her that Sasuke is about to say something to her, but decides against it and prefers to speak with his body instead. With more space now free, the man finds himself snugly between her legs.

Before Sakura could realize what is exactly happening and what his next move is going to be, Sasuke surprises her yet again. Rather than mirroring his previous position on top of her, he chooses to cascade down gently with an objective in mind.

Continuing his ministrations, he smoothly lifts her shirt and scrunches it up towards her chest. With that out of the way, Sasuke starts peppering her belly with soft, open-mouthed kisses. It tickles a tiny bit, but the heat pooling between her legs is a tell-tale sign just how much this is affecting her.

When his hot breath fans above her damp underwear, she knows exactly what he is planning on doing to her. Then, Sasuke pauses and looks up at her questioningly as if to confirm if this okay with her.

To answer his unspoken query, Sakura sits up slightly and crosses her arms grabbing her white blouse by each side. She takes it off in one swift movement and quickly lies down, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

Sakura bites her lip, her hands finding themselves near his nape and fondling his shoulders in an attempt to clear any doubts in Sasuke's head that she may not be ready for this. No words need to be exchanged between them, Sasuke could tell even from the way she breathed if this kind of loving was unwanted from her.

She still feels coy, but, Sasuke knows how to handle her. His hand grips one thigh gently, putting slight pressure on it. He bends down and starts pressing delicate kisses right below her belly button and going lower. When his teeth graze the top of her baby pink, lacy panties, she lets out a tiny whimper. He bites the cute bow and pulls down; his eyes are closed and his fingers are digging into her supple skin, a sweet pressure pulling her back to reality.

Her feet trash a little bit, the covers of the bed becoming a mess in her wake.

Sakura unconsciously lifts her butt up when his hand places under her leg. Taking that as his cue, Sasuke grabs the underside of her lingerie and takes it off her.

With that out of the way, her legs spread apart and he leans back to take a good at her. So many thoughts are running through his head, too many things he wants to say to her. Compliment her beauty and ravishing body; even the most hidden parts of herself are pretty to him.

She looks gorgeous like this, all docile and yielding for him. Sasuke wants to worship her body and treat her with fairness; kiss every scar and caress every curve of her. Every little thing he cannot confess to her, he wants to convey it through every action he does just to please her.

The raven haired man wants to clear any doubts she might have in her head. He needs to make her his, claim her and show her how much she means to him. But first, he has to make sure she knows just how much he wishes to satisfy her.

Sasuke bends down once again, his head between her legs and his arm under thigh, his lone hand holding her captive.

Sakura puts her hands over her mouth in an attempt to muffle her upcoming reactions. When his hot breath fans over her wet folds, she loses it.

He hums thoughtfully as if he is pondering something and then his lips are on her most intimate area. First, a gentle kiss on her clit and then his lips part and he is consuming her wholly. Sasuke uses his tongue skillfully, parting her nether folds and lapping at her entrance. The skill he is displaying has the woman questioning her sanity.

He is very meticulous with her, going as far as using the sounds she makes as guidance. His mouth works in wicked ways and she is making embarrassing, loud noises.

When he pauses to take a breather, Sakura whines. The loss of this endless satisfaction turning her bratty.

"So wet, already," Sasuke says with pride.

Sakura wants to punch his face to the next dimension for that snarky comment, but he has her putty in his hands.

Her face is a little damp from sweat and she pushes a few loose pastel strands away from her sticky cheeks and forehead.

"Don't tease me," she pouts and she slaps his arm lightly – a warning.

Sasuke smirks as if expecting that reaction and then his hand leaves her thigh, a slight bruise already forming on her skin where he had been grabbing her.

Sakura's toes curl in anticipation, her hands settling flat at her sides.

At the same time, Sasuke's exploration begins once more, his mouth finding its place on her needy point. Her heart hammers in her chest and she feels her pleasure reach new heights when his fingers join his tongue.

He strokes her dutifully with his tongue while his two long digits spread her wet folds further apart, providing him with more access. Sakura moans in response, her legs unconsciously lifting with her feet landing gently on his shoulder blades.

Her eyes stop staring at ceiling and she watches as the man she desires has his face all up in her pussy, eating her out like she is the most delicious meal.

"A-ah, please," she keens, anything to lead him on.

Suddenly, he is sucking her clit benevolently, his eyes opening slowly when he senses her staring at him.

Sasuke's prowess activates committing this particularly sensual moment to his memory along with many others to come. Her green eyes are shining brightly and her skin glows; the color of her hair matching her skin, splashes of unique shades of pink intensifying her beauty to the next level. She is shaking slightly, trying fruitlessly to suppress her upcoming orgasm from reaching her too soon.

He itches to make her cum more than once, but his main mission for tonight is to make sure she remembers this night forever... just as he will.

Next thing Sakura knows, a finger is added to the mix and now both his tongue and this are hitting different pleasure points inside her.

Too soon, he suddenly stops and sighs against her quivering entrance. "Fuck, Sakura."

Those last few seconds were such a delicious sensation, she never wants him to stop until she is completely spent. Before she could prod him to continue, the woman feels his index entering her.

Sakura trembles when two fingers start going in and out of her in a fast pace, the intrusion welcome and needed. Then, as if this is not enough, his hand curls and his thumb starts teasing her clit simultaneously whenever possible.

Unable to do anything other than shake in his grasp, Sakura courses her hands roughly through his black hair needing to hold on to something. Her waist bends like a feline in heat, her chest heaving up and down and her breaths coming out in quick pants.

Sakura knows she might be hurting him with how much she is pulling on his hair, but she is unable to care at the moment. He deserves it for turning her in to this tiny, needy monster.

"Don't stop," she moans, face contorted in bliss. Her eyes are closed and her brows are furrowed in concentration. Sakura's mouth parts in a silent plea, her red lips shiny with spit.

She is so close, yet so far away.

Sasuke bites his lip, changes his position and moves to rest his forehead on her shoulder. He feels his member leaking precum inside his boxers and he tries to keep it together.

The man is listening intensely to all the beautiful sounds she is making and breathing hard. His pace is relentless and the muscle in his bicep is straining against his skin from the exertion he is putting it through.

Sasuke grits his teeth when Sakura's walls clench around his fingers, signaling she is close – he cannot stop now.

Sakura's arms loop around his neck and she hugs him close, their bodies sticking to each other. The position is not the most comfortable for him, but damn him if he does not love the way she feels around him. A few of her stiletto pointed nails dig into his skin, leaving angry marks on his back, but the pain just adds fuel to the fire.

"S-Sasuke-kun," she sobs into his neck, reaching euphoria finally. Her body spasms around him, his fingers getting coated with her juices.

Sasuke lets out a pleased sound, something akin to a quiet moan and rests his body on her, his hand coming at a stop and pulling out of her.

Sakura lies spent beneath him with her eyes closed and breaths shallow.

The black haired male feels immense pleasure and pride knowing he made her orgasm just with his fingers and his ego swells at her satisfaction. He has been wishing to be the only one to make her a hot mess like this.

Moreover, the discomfort he is experiencing right now because of her is distracting him from teasing her further, even though he truly enjoys watching her blush and squirm under his penetrating gaze and vexing comments.

His cock is solid hard and aching. It is borderline painful not only because he wishes to get his release soon, but also the whole stimulation confined in his pants is a dire situation that needs to be fixed immediately.

When she shifts underneath him, his boner brushes against her hipbone firmly. Sakura pauses, and peaks at him cautiously, her eyes burning with desire once again.

Not wanting her to make her uncomfortable, he tries to untangle himself from her, but the woman in his arms has other plans.

"You are…" Her voice speaks with purpose, however, her tone is light and shy.

Sasuke flushes and stays still as a rigid board, not wishing to discuss his rather big problem down there. He swears if she tries anything, he will lose control fully.

He is like a wild animal caged and untamed, but about to be set free.

The tall man starts to sit up on his knees in order to avoid the impending confrontation, but his member stands proud and obvious to the eyes. His hand, still wet from her peak, lies limply at his side. He swallows hard and blushes, turning to look the other way and avoiding her ignited stare.

Sakura's mouth waters at the sight displaying before her. Her beautiful lover has never looked hotter than this moment. His skin glistens slightly from perspiration, adding a nice glow to his body and accentuating his toned physique. Sasuke's bangs are tinted at the tips, damp from sweat.

His trousers, along with his boxers, hang low past his waistline and his pelvic bones peak out bringing attention to his happy trail and the prominent bulge in his pants. A vein is popping out in his bicep and Sakura catches a glimpse of his arm flexing, probably to ease up the muscle there.

Sasuke tries hard to compose himself in front of her, but his expression gives out and exposes how clearly turned on he is by this – as if his body has not showcased it enough to her.

It is her turn to command him, it seems.

Sakura decides to take the initiative since Sasuke has not moved from his spot. She approaches him cautiously, slowly sitting up on her elbows and regarding him. He murmurs something inaudible and glares at the mattress if it is the source of all his problems. Sakura takes his silence and his stagnant form as her cue and raises completely from the bed, her core still sore from his intense loving.

"Let me,"she whispers to him immediately upon kneeling in front of him. She almost does not recognize her own voice, with how seductive her tone sounds.

The moment the words come out of her mouth, Sasuke gets alert and his eyes widen a fraction. His lips part, ready to say something, probably to stop her, but he does not have the power to do so. She notices his sharingan is deactivated now, but the look he is giving her makes her resolute with her decision.

It incites her motivation to please him and show him how much she appreciates him and all of his efforts towards her. After that amazing orgasm he gave her, the talented man deserves to feel some kind of pleasure too. Besides, she cannot let him handle all that by himself, she thinks cheekily.

"Sasuke-kun," Sakura uses the best authoritative voice she can master at a time like this.

He instantly glances up at her, contemplating his options inside his head. Everything points to her with his dick in her mouth. Fuck him and his traitorous body. The most collected part of his brain melts at the thought of her even touching him.

Sakura's hand reaches forward and she palms him roughly through the layers of fabric, face set with a purpose in mind. Sasuke in return short circuits.

He allows himself to be completely overtaken by her.

His senses are overcome by the sheer desire coursing through his veins. Every fantasy, every touch, every word that has to do with her replaying like a broken mantra in his mind. He feels everything tenfold, the emotions consuming him like the black fire he commands to destroy.

Sasuke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, his cheeks aflame and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. His path to redemption has reached its final destination.

To become hers, wholly.

Sakura begins to massage him based on his repressed reactions like a twitch of his lip or the fluttering of his eyelashes. She starts gently, then she adds more pressure as she goes on. When the woman feels like she has had enough, she grabs the hem of his trousers and pulls down. The same process follows gradually for his boxers too. His cock stands proud and thick, complementing his already perfect figure.

Meanwhile, Sasuke, not knowing what to do, tries to minimize his reactions, preferring to stay reserved yet. His introverted nature makes him hesitant when he is the one on the receiving end. Despite that, he knows Sakura, being perceptive when it comes to him, will catch on quickly and she will accommodate herself to get customized to his still reluctant attitude.

Sakura understands why Sasuke acts so averse since he has yet to come to terms with that fact that it is alright to feel emotional. It is okay to express love and feel it consume you. He is afraid that if he lets himself go, he will never be able to stand even the thought of losing her.

When the outer part of her index finger starts to tenderly caress his hipbone, he shallows hard and opens his eyes to look at her.

The look she is giving him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Her expressive light green eyes shine with so much genuine adoration and her smile is sweet and warm; her whole aura feels inviting and secure.

"Sakura, I-" Sasuke begins, the tremor in his voice startling him.

"It's okay," Sakura says kindly and her other hand lifts, her palm laying flat atop of his heart. She soothes him with her next words, "It's okay to feel like this."

Sasuke studies her carefully, appreciating how much she cares for his comfort. She knows him so well and they are not even an item yet. He cannot wait to spend more time with her and learn each others' habits and quirks.

He lets out an affirmative hum and nods at her.

The powerful shinobi observes her as she continues her ministrations. Her left hand joins her right down there. She breathes out heartily, something akin to a laugh and an awkward smile etches across her face. Obviously, she has not done this before.

Then, Sakura purses her lips and with determined expression on her face, her right hand descends smoothly on his rock hard cock. The head is angry, red in color, his shaft one shade darker than the rest of his body. The girl inspects it as discreetly as possible and with two swift motions, her fingers circle around him and she begins to stroke him gently.

Sasuke lets out a hiss, unprepared for the foreign contact. He has touched himself before thinking of her, but nothing compares to this new, real sensation.

Her left hand stays still, clasping firmly his left hipbone to steady her movements. Sakura peers at him from underneath her pastel eyelashes, jade orbs shining innocently just as she bends down and places her bruised, scarlet lips right before his manhood.

Sasuke gulps down the saliva stuck in his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. Sakura breathes out hotly on it, blinks at him and her tongue comes out to lick him.

The first swipe of her cute tongue against his shaft makes him let out a quiet moan. Unconsciously, his lone hand grabs a fistful of her hair, tangling his fingers in her soft tresses. He tags her forward a little bit, her mouth and nose bumping on his hardness, urging her to take him into her mouth.

Sakura, realizing she needs to step her game up, opens up and pushes his cock inside her mouth. She starts to suck him, creating a steady rhythm in tandem with her right hand. Half of his member is inside her crevice, her jaw stretching and aching pleasantly because of his girth while her hand strokes the other half that she cannot fit in her mouth yet. His size is above average and hard to handle, but it is nothing Sakura cannot learn to master with Sasuke as her teacher.

In time, she swears, Sakura will learn to please him so good, she will have him begging for more.

The woman picks up the pace, and her taste buds feel a salty essence on her tongue. He is starting leak precum already and her suspicions are further confirmed when he commences to panting.

Sasuke is rougher with her now, pushing her forward and making her cheeks hollow out. Her jaw hurts, but the pain is welcome. She gags a little bit, but she does not relent, wishing to deep throat him further.

"F-fuck, Sakura," he curses, his pleasured groans music to her ears. Sasuke sees white behind his closed eyelids, and he grits his teeth trying to hold on longer to the feeling.

The air smells like sex, and the hormones releasing from Sasuke's body makes his manly musk even more intense as Sakura tries to breath through her nose since her mouth is busy.

She moans loudly at a rather harsh tag against her scalp, and the vibrations it creates against his dick cause Sasuke to buckle suddenly. Her fingernails dig into his skin anew and it stimulates him even more, his orgasm approaching at an alarming rate.

Her strokes become uneven, but faster. At that moment, he decides to look down at her, and seeing her like this, on her knees for him doing everything she can in order to satisfy him enhances his experience even further.

"S-Sakura," Sasuke tries to warn her, albeit late. "—I am going to-"

Before he can get any more words out of his mouth, his climax hits him and his hand grips her hair hard, holding on for dear life.

"A-ah," Sasuke lets out a racy moan; a foreign sound when it comes to him. His eyes close in satisfaction and he leans forward slightly, riding out the remnants of his orgasm inside her mouth.

The image that greets him is enough to make him hard again.

Despite being unprepared, Sakura took his cock well, his semen filling her up and quenching her thirst to please him. She shallows everything he has to offer, like its sweet wine pouring down her throat.

He releases her hair finally, and in return she lets out his member fall out of her mouth with a loud pop. At the same time her left arm abandons its place at his hip and steadies herself on the bed instead. Her lips are bruised and swollen, while her hair is wild and untamed, the endeavor clearly leaving her disheveled. Her chin is shiny with spit and some of the excess fluids that must have spilled out.

As if this is not erotic or sensual enough, her fingers come forth and tap on her coated lips and chin to capture any sticky residue that has escaped. She glances up at him from her spot on all fours before him and puts her fingertips in her mouth, savoring every drop of him. Sakura smirks mischievously up at him, putting his infamous sneers to shame.

Sasuke almost gives in, ready to act out all his shameful thoughts away.

Sakura's core still burns deliciously and Sasuke's reactions to her has made her a little wet, in need of attention again, but she does not voice anything out loud and chooses to let this moment pass. They have all the time in the world, after all. The beautiful woman sits on her knees, her palms resting flat on her thick thighs and she lets out a content sigh.

And just like that, their lust infused spell is broken, their awkwardness and shyness returning back, reverting to their usual selves.

The man seems to have a similar thought process, because he relaxes and following her lead, he sits down on the bed.

They exchange a few fleeting glances, unspoken naughty thoughts going back and forth between them; the newly made couple stays put instead.

A few minutes pass, and then Sakura is getting up. She is fully naked, but she is not ashamed anymore, flashing her gorgeous naked body to him.

"We should probably wash up," she comments as casually as possible to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. Unconsciously, the girl scratches her head and puts a few pink locks behind her ears.

In an act of bravery, Sakura adds a proposition.

"Join me?" she asks and extends her hand out.

"Aa." Sasuke nods and gets up from the bed in all his naked glory, leaving his trousers and boxers behind.

Sakura clasps their hands together and leads him to her private bathroom.

Sakura steps inside the shower stall, Sasuke following close behind and joining her, just as she opens the tap. She alters it from faucet to shower head and together they let themselves be washed by the hot steam. His lone hand grabs her by the hip, aligning her thick behind to his still semi hard length. Sakura bends over a little bit, both palms laying flat on the shower wall, probing him further to sensually rub against her. They stay like this for awhile, their aftermath of their hot desire still prominent, influencing their movements.

Sasuke leans in close and hugs her, his hand continuing its journey and draping over her tummy, bringing her adjacent to his chest in an intimate embrace. Then, he kisses her neck and closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. His black hair is fully wet, sticking to his face and obscuring the left side of it completely.

The pink haired beauty, enjoying the warmth provided by her lover, exhales in quick gasps, her lips parting – tasting the water on her tongue, quenching her imaginary thirst. Her pastel locks stick to every part of her face, the hair transforming under the influence of the humidity and turning one shade darker, a close mix of hot pink and coral.

Deciding she has had enough, and this could lead them further into an endless inferno of love and sex, Sakura grabs the nearest bottle of soap and pours some of it into her open palm. Noting the new development, Sasuke lets go of her and allows the woman in his arms to turn around. She starts to wash his hair, standing on her tip toes. To help her out, Sasuke tries to shorten his height by buckling his knees a tiny bit and minimizing the distance between them.

He inclines forward, favoring her gentle touch, her caresses soothing him. The man pulls her into his chest, his arm circling around her waist and hugging her close. Her fingers tend to his scalp, her nails scratching him and creating a pleasurable, fuzzy effect.

Finishing her task, Sakura washes the soap suds off his head with the help of the flowing water, creating bubbles in her wake.

To return the favor to herself, Sakura pours another patch of soap straight atop of her head and turns around. "My turn," she says, giddy.

"Sure, darling." Sasuke says ironically to tease her, smirking lazily. Not counting the implications of such endearment, they both brush it off as a joke for the time being.

He stars to tend to her locks, coursing his fingers through her hair and smothering the soap everywhere, washing her up. Sakura stays still, humming in appreciation at the gentle touch of her menacing warrior, marveling at the fact he is becoming this soft with her.

When his hand descends lower and starts massaging her nape, Sakura lets out a whimper, feeling her knots loosen under his skillful fondling; the stress leaves out of her in a whoosh.

Sakura relaxes under his ministrations, not minding him caressing her body, from her shoulder blades down to her backside. Stopping just above her perky butt, Sasuke halts abruptly, not wanting to be tempted to do more. Paying attention to his struggle, the woman turns around and gives him a chaste peck on the lips.

After that small show of affection, the beauty does not waste anymore time and pours soap all over his body in a rush. He grimaces instantly at the sudden assault, but she does not relent, giggling heartily at his reaction. With the steam volume lowered, she gets her chance to wash his body clean, helping him out and lending a hand wherever it deems necessary.

Busy as he is, Sakura begins her own cleaning process. Using her hands quickly, she gives herself a throughout bath, paying extra attention to her nether regions. Always preppy and careful, Sasuke makes a good use of his lone hand and he washes up nicely, leaving no spot unattended.

They both finish around the same time, and Sakura adjusts the temperature and flow to fit their needs. Splashes of hot water come out strongly, rinsing their foamy bodies fully.

With that out of the way, Sakura grabs the nearest towels she can find; one for her and one for her lover. She lends it to Sasuke who steps out of the stall, giving her more space. The material feels fluffy as she brushes the towel against her body, wiping any excess water.

Sasuke swipes his black locks behind, the purple of his rinnegan glimmering in the low dimmed lights of the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from humidity so his reflection is blurry, a haze of skin in contrast to his glowing eye and dark hair. Sakura's pink halo comes to view, the rose to his black abyss; the contradiction of their permanent colors a poem of its own.

He uses the towel she gave him to wipe away most of the wetness on his skin, tapping gently everywhere. Meanwhile, Sakura struggles to squeeze all the water out of her hair, the towel moving along her scalp to make her strands as dry as possible. Sasuke follows her steps and uses his own towel to dampen his locks just enough so it is not dripping on his shoulders anymore.

After that, they both take a few minutes of their time to finish some extra bathroom businesses respectively and they exit the room. Clean and fresh, the couple lies on the bed; the fact that Sasuke has his own separate room across the hall left unsaid.

Sakura turns to her side to look at him, her body slightly curling to adjust to her favorite sleeping position. Sasuke lies on his stomach, his head turned to his left, staring at her silently. It feels quite domestic like this, Sakura almost muses out loud.

"Good night, Sasuke-kun," she says sweetly, a toothy grin on her face.

She is happy, Sasuke thinks. He blinks slowly, savoring every second he is looking at her.

"Goodnight," the man responds, a tiny smile gracing his lips.

His eyes speak way more volumes than his words are. The night may be small, but their love is forever. Both content, they let the need to sleep overtake them.

Knock, knock, knock.

What an awful background noise for the nice dream she is having; Sakura stirs in her sleep, her brows furrowing as she tries to hang on to the sleepless state. The imaginary images stop and her mind draws a blank.

She feels a little drool on her lips and her hand unconsciously wipes it away.

Sakura-chan!

Ah, yes, Naruto of course, Sakura thinks, exasperated.

Then, the weirdest thing happens. The woman hears mumbling next to her, more specifically grumbling. This person must be quite grumpy in the morning, because next thing she knows, someone curses.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this!" The blond is desperate, his fist banging against the wooden door loudly.

"Wake up Sakura-chan!" Naruto bellows, frustration clear in his voice, "That bastard, Sasuke, had the audacity to leave before us!"

This piques Sakura's interest, because she clearly recalls being the last one to see Sasuke last night. Just when she was enjoying her sleep, her overly excited friend had to come and remind her about her problem.

But wait a minute…

The culprit came to her room last night.

"Shut up," a male voice mumbles hoarsely, the grouchy tone awfully familiar.

Sakura's eyes widen instantly and the sight that greets her makes her breath hitch.

Sasuke is on his back, his lone arm resting on top of his eyes, trying to prevent the sunlight from peeking through his closed eyelids. His chest is rising up and down, the blanket barely covering his naked torso.

"Open up, already, Sakura, don't keep me waiting!" The blue eyed man shouts desperately. He is ready to barge into Kakashi's room if his friend does not show signs of waking up anytime soon. Sasuke has obviously left the building since his room is empty, no sign of him found anywhere when the blond barged into his room.

His options are limited here, and he thought since Sakura usually wakes up early, she would be the one to keep him company until they meet up with Kakashi.

Sakura is about to have a quarter life crisis here. She cannot believe she woke up to this. First, she felt annoyed at being woken up so abruptly, and now, as she stares at Sasuke's good looking side profile, she feels like someone is trying to torture her.

Then, in flash, her memory floods back and Sakura remembers exactly what went down last night. More specifically, how Sasuke went down on her.

Her loins burn and her core aches in a gratifying sense.

"Oh my god," Sakura whispers, trying to keep her voice down. In any other circumstances, she would be shouting. The woman puts her palms upon her heated cheeks, gaping at her lover who seems to be clueless as to what is going on.

"Okay fine," Naruto announces dejectedly, his voice a tad lower this time. With one last look at the door, the young man finally leaves.

Sakura lets out a breath she did not realize she was holding in. Sasuke seems to be wide awake, although his attitude leaves no room for discussion. He is still quite sleepy, and Naruto's wake up call was not the best to start the day with.

"Finally," The man besides her mutters. Sakura pokes his arm, curious to see his reaction to their predicament.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, processing everything in. When his stare softens, Sakura greets him breathlessly. "Good morning, Sasuke-kun."

She gazes at him lovingly, remembering how his words left searing marks on her heart, how his lips felt against her skin, making her his.

"Morning," he mumbles and turns to his side, bringing her lithe form close in an intimate hug. Sakura fits herself into his embrace instantly when she realizes what his intentions are.

The couple snuggles silently for a while, their soft exhalations the only sound in the room. The birds are lightly chirping outside, creating a nice cicada in the quiet morning.

"The idiot can be quite a hassle in the morning," Sasuke murmurs suddenly as if commenting about the weather.

He pulls her closer, basking in her scent. His gentle touch, a huge contrast to his past self who was selfish and harsh. She is making him kind again, bringing forth the child like innocence he used to have. The man sighs against her, his heartbeat calm and his mind clear from any insidious thoughts.

The only thing important in his life is in front of him, right in his arms.

Sakura laughs, a beautiful sound and it rings inside him like a bell signaling happiness.

"Yes, always," Sakura responds, a teasing smile on her lips. "But he is our idiot and I wouldn't trade him for the world."

"Sure," Sasuke sneers, mirth somewhere hidden in there.

"Should we..?" Sakura suddenly asks, the implications clear. She gazes up at him seriously, awaiting for his opinion, making sure he is comfortable with all this.

"Let them figure it out on their own," Sasuke says, his eyes sincere. "Besides it will be funnier that way," the black haired man smirks, enjoying immensely the possibility of Kakashi and especially Naruto struggling.

"Hm, fine," Sakura smiles, her eyes glinting evilly. He is becoming a bad influence to her, but she will not lie and pretend that she will not be enjoying torturing those two – their funny comments about her beloved Sasuke-kun had teased her far enough.

Having decided that, the couple gets up and starts preparing for their day. Sasuke collects last night's clothes and wears them again. He bids Sakura a soft kiss goodbye on the forehead and heads to his room to finish up getting ready. Sakura blushes and stares at this retreating back fondly, a huge grin forming on her lips.

When he is out of the room, Sakura punches the bed in excitement, letting out a muffled cry, "Shannaro!".

Half an hour later, all members of Team seven meet up at the hotel lobby. Naruto's reaction is instant, proclaiming how he is going punch Sasuke's lights out for disappearing. The man explains, cool and collected, how it was none of the blond's business where he went. This arises some suspicions and some raised eyebrows as to where Sasuke could have went.

Sakura is trying to be subtle, really, but she is having too much fun. She giggles every now and then, throwing fleeting glances at her lover who is avoiding answering any questions about his whereabouts, probing the curious men even further to try and understand what could have possibly went down between the full of tension – not yet or so they thought – couple.

"I am going to find out what what is going on here and when I do, I will never let you guys leave it down," Naruto swears – an oath he is bound to regret really, really soon...

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 11

Masterpost

He blinked awake to Geralt’s “We’ll stop here for the night.” The dim haze of twilight barely poking through the sides of the bag. He stretched his wings feeling less like anxiety and exhaustion.

“Can we have a fire tonight?” Ciri asked. He stuck his beak out the side of the bag and peeped, reminding them not to dump his bag on the ground.

“No.” The saddlebags next to him unfastened and he continued peeping his impatience. “It’ll draw too much attention here.”

Geralt set his bag down gently but didn’t unclip it so he could escape.

“Alright.” Ciri said in a tone that made it clear it was not alright. “Are you going to let him out?”

“If he can’t get out on his own he needs to go back to sleep. Letting him out would just rile him up.”

He continued peeping his offense as they set up camp and Geralt set off to collect water or scout or something before he settled back in the nest disheartened.

He could shift now but he wasn’t sure he could shift back and he didn’t want to spend the night as a mouse.

“Are you really a shapeshifter?” Ciri’s voice came from right outside the bag and he startled at it.

Then he chirped an affirmative. Which probably didn’t help at all. He stuck his beak out and nodded as best he could.

“Then shift out.”

He peeped sadly.

She grumbled, frustrated. “I knew it.”

He hated that – they weren’t tricking her!

He forced himself down.

His little heart raced. Course it always raced in this form. He squeezed out of the bag and collapsed on top. Heaving chest trying to catch his breath.

Wasn’t getting back to the lark tonight that was certain.

He squeaked at her, high pitch drawing her young ears.

He heard her move closer until she came into his vision. She smelled like Geralt, which was reassuring. She should smell like him. She was his cub.

“Jaskier?” He nodded his tiny tiny head. Melitite she was large. He shouldn’t be outsized by his cub yet!

She scowled and offered her palm to him. He jumped on it and she opened the bag to search for him.

No lark.

He curled up in the palm of her warm soft hand and drifted. Exhausted again by a single shift. It was embarrassing. But the warmth of her chaos hummed in his bones, soothing the strain. So there was always that.

She abandoned the bag, hopefully convinced. She stood and flopped down in the heavy onion musk of Geralt’s bedroll.

“You’re really the bard?”

He nodded.

“I can’t see that in the dark. Move your tail for no. Head for yes.”

Okay.

“Is that your lute?”

Yes.

“I played it once. When I was bored. Just plucked strings. I’ve never seen him move so fast. Or look so devastated when he realized it was just me.” She raise her other hand to stroke the curve of his spine. “I hated you for leaving him.”

I would never leave him. He wanted to tell her. Not willingly. Not really. And never for so long.

Geralt had been true north for decades now. He could spin and fly blindly and he’d always find his way back to Geralt. Bond or no it seemed.

But there wasn’t really a yes or no way to respond to that. So he waited enjoying the way Ciri’s song spun warmth out into the universe, like the first true day of spring.

“If you ever hurt him like that again. I’ll.” She grumbled indistinctly. “You’ll wish you had died got it?”

Good cub. Yes. Good cub.

Still cub. The Griffin still had him. Hopefully it would pass soon enough.

“He’s my destiny.” She curled tighter in the bedroll. “Mine.” She said, like that was the only thing she had left.

No. He was her choice. She alone could defy destiny. She alone could reject the law of surprise. Geralt was her choice.

But at this point what choice was it really?

Yes. Yours.

They were hers. Always.

He would hold her soon. In the keep probably, after a bath and a shave and a haircut. So he didn’t horrify her with his mangy appearance. That was Geralt’s job. He’d hold her and tell her that no matter what she choose, they would always be hers. And if she wanted, she could be theirs.

She shivered curling up tightly in the bedroll.

Her song hummed in the air and she shivered and his bones ached with exhaustion but that was no excuse to let your cub go cold.

The white wolf is your destiny.

It was hard and easy. Easy to want to be what she needed. Harder to be it. But he answered her song and her plea because she was his cub and he always wanted to be what she needed.

He wouldn’t- couldn’t always be what she needed. But damnit if he wasn’t going to try.

It hurt. Shifting on empty. Tearing magic from Geralt and her song and his very bones. Shifting by sheer force of will.

It was worth the deep ache in his bones when she gasped. Staring up at his large white form. Worth everything when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to lie next to her.

He nosed her and pretended to try and lick her face until she was giggling and he settled against her. Her hands sinking into the depths of his fur. Her nose burying in his neck.

Within minutes she was asleep.

And then Geralt was there. Clutching his chest as he desperately surveyed them and the area for-

Danger.

He smiled and wagged his tail. Ease Geralt. We’re safe.

Geralt collapsed to his knees and wrapped his arms around his head, pulling his muzzle against Geralt’s chest and burying his nose in the fur of his neck where Ciri slumbered.

“I thought something happened. I thought you were dying Jaskier.” He hissed into his ears, just barely loud enough to hear. “Don’t do that to me.”

A quiet whine escaped him. She was cold.

Which was probably not a good enough reason. Since he’d hurt Geralt too.

“You’re so stupid Jaskier.” He certainly could be. He stayed in Geralt’s uncomfortable grip and tried to radiate peace. Contentment. Geralt could get drunk on those smells alone.

He listened to Geralt’s slow heartbeat steady to its terrifyingly slow beat. Lifetimes stretched in the space between a moment of Geralt’s. Would his life be just a moment between the beats of Geralts?

“You’re white. Why are you white? Your wolf form is brown.”

He shoved his nose into his chest forcing Geralt off him. Geralt’s eyes reflected back at him in the dark and he nodded to Ciri.

“She asked you to?” He wobbled his head.

Yes and no. She hadn’t asked but he’d heard. She needed him to be someone she could trust. She trusted the white wolf. She trusted Geralt.

It wasn’t that easy. Trust wasn’t that easy. But it had felt so important. She had been cold.

He doubted Geralt got any of that from the wide sad eyes he sent or the apologetic tilt to his ears.

Geralt scratched them so he counted himself forgiven. His tail wagged behind him.

Geralt smiled, soft and radiant before it twisted into a grin. “Not going to check my condition packmate?”

His ears folded back and his face grew very hot – which he didn’t think was normal for wolves, blushing that is but that didn’t stop him.

He’d met Geralt several times after running with the Oxenfurt pack. Shifted and greeted him as packmates would after time apart.

With kisses and tongue. Lots and lots of tongue.

He wasn’t lying but that didn’t stop the embarrassment of knowing he’d made out with Geralt multiple times without permission.

Geralt had never objected so long as he’d been human at the time when he did it but still. He tried to hide his face under his paws.

“But you weren’t a wolf this morning where you?” Geralt shifted, preparing to lay down behind Ciri. Still holding his eye with that dangerous grin. “You were a Griffin.”

Geralt laid down and rested a hand on his shoulder blades. He stared up at the sky trying not to shift under the weight of Geralt’s gaze.

“Is it accurate?” He glanced over at Geralt trying to judge what he meant by that. By the small strain of unsure in his voice. “Griffins and their mates?”

Griffins mate for life. Geralt had told him once. Probably more than once if he was being honest.

He remembered how words had spilled out around short panicked breaths earlier. Mate. Cub. Ours. Mine.

Geralt knew he’d bound them together. He’d let him bind them together again. Geralt had taken his lute from Oxenfurt and he’d been devastated when Ciri had played it and he’d realized it’d not been Jaskier. Had remade the nest in his saddlebag for him.

Geralt had let him kiss him. After the Griffin, after the wolves. Let him hold his hand while they slept on rocks so they wouldn’t drift apart and allowed him to cuddle into his chest or side or neck every night they spent together for over two decades now.

He owed Geralt that didn’t he? Honesty. About what he had done and what he had chosen. What Geralt had agreed to without knowing what he’d agreed to.

About how Griffins did mate for life. And it seemed that Jaskiers did too.

His mate wanted him but that didn’t mean Geralt wanted to be his mate.

But he deserved to know that he was. That he always would be. Always be Geralts.

He nodded.

“Good.” There was gentle pressure in the space between his ear and his eye and Geralt pulled back and his lips moved again. “Good.”

Good? It was good? His mate wanted him and it was good?

It was good.

“You’ll wake Ciri.” Geralt shushed. He noticed the wiggles and intense tail wag that had begun to shake his body. He tried to clamp down on it. On the physical reaction to the swelling of joy in his chest.

He didn’t want to wake their cub.

I love you – don’t wake the cub – I love you – don’t wake the cub – I love you both so much. Don’t wake the cub.

“Go to sleep Jaskier.” Geralt’s hand ran down his spine. Safe. Loved. The white wolf if your destiny. Ciri sung in her slumber.

He closed his eyes and the next moment all he knew was peaceful slumber.

[hephaestiions]

Addictive Tendencies

@hprarepairnet​ & @slytherdornet​ - quidditch player ships challenge Pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood (Flintwood) Summary: “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.”

“Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. One thing leads to another. 

Warnings: Light angst, break-ups, everyone swears a great deal, mentions of nsfw/18+ activities. Rating: Teen. 

Word Count: 4k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic) 

For all that he feels almost dead going through the motions of life, Oliver comes alive on the pitch. There’s something about the clean, crisp scent of fresh air– the kind reminding him of the open fields close to home– and the adrenaline rush of mounting a broom that leeches into every cell of his being. It fires his synapses, jolts his entire body out of the sleepwalking trance he slips into during classes and meals and all the other mundanities that compose everyday life. Oliver can’t wait to go pro.

To leave fucking Transfiguration and Potions and Professor Sprout’s herb gardens behind. To make the familiarity of the broom clenched under his thighs and the roaring blood in his ears his livelihood, his reason to wake up every morning and  go back to bed each night without drinking himself into a stupor thinking of everything that could have– Fuck no. He’s not going down that road right now.

Right now, his focus needs to be narrowed down to that slim space between the hoops and the perfect, concentrated manoeuvre that will allow him to slip through. His focus needs to be on his game, his practice, not on… other things.

Vision tunnelling, Oliver tenses his calves around the reliable solidity of his broom, and corkscrews his entire body almost violently through the gap, veering dangerously close to the metal bars of the left hoop, emerging unscathed and out of breath on the other side. He wants to be happy.

Wants to be proud, because this is the first time he has executed this move flawlessly without either crashing his elbow or his knee or his side into some part of the hoops. He desperately wants to feel the joy he would be whooping with by now if this had been even six months ago. But all he feels is the desperate desire to hear Marcus shout, “That’s what I fucking call a Hummingbird, Wood, you fucking genius!” either from the stands or from his place on another broom by Oliver’s side. He’s met with silence. The wind moans, twisting its way through the branches of the trees lining the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Oliver wants to drive himself into a metal bar just to work off some of the pent up frustration and rage gathering in his shoulders, his back muscles, his stomach. The almost physical ache gripping and tearing at his heart. He kicks out, and the broom bucks underneath him, buoyed in the wrong direction by an errant current of air. There’s a brief moment of sheer terror as his body misbalances midair, but he isn’t the fucking captain of Gryffindor for nothing. He lets himself fall for a second, letting his weight gather momentum, before pulling out at the very last second. Sometimes he wants to smash his entire body into a wall, but he knows better than to work out his aggressive tendencies on the unforgiving pitch.

His legacy deserves better than to be remembered as a gruesome splatter on the grounds of Hogwarts. Marcus though. Marcus can bloody well plummet to death for all Oliver cares. Except.

Except the very thought sends shudders down Oliver’s spine, and his hands inadvertently reach out into thin air even contemplating the prospect of letting Marcus hurt himself. Except that Oliver would take the fall before letting Marcus take it. He’s fucked, truly. “You’re a bloody fool, Oliver,” he mutters to himself with only the wind listening in. “And for once you’ve got something other than terrible grades to prove how truly fucked you are.” Marcus’ words echo in his head, a never ending loop of heartbreak and agony and gut-wrenching misery that no rationally thinking future pro Quidditch player has the time for. You– you know how the world is beyond Hogwarts, man. You know it’s not good to– to people like us, especially when we want to play and go pro, you know. It’s bollocks mate, is what it is, but it’s life and I guess I want a career more than a fuck. Because that’s all they’d been of course. A fuck. Fuck Marcus. Well and truly fuck him into next Sunday, next month, next bloody year. That line of thinking conjures up a whole new set of images that are doubly uncomfortable when one’s private parts are squashed onto a pole of unforgiving wood. His whole body itches and aches and buzzes with energy he doesn’t know how to work off, so he perfects his form on the broom and swoops in and out of the spaces between the hoops, tracing fast paced figure of eights that even the best of the best would have a tough time keeping up with. It’s mindless and the cold wind sniping at his cheekbones jars him into the present, into the steadiness of swerving past the bars of the hoops and spinning around like his life depends on it. Fuck Marcus Flint and his stupid, scared arse and his willingness to give up on everything Oliver thought was sacred to them. Fuck him. After half an hour, he wants to keep going, but his whole body resists, aching and burning along the lines of tension in his muscles. He feels heavy and tired, like a stone about to drop, and he turns on his broom to swoop down when– When he sees him. In the stands. The crossed arms, the wind billowing through strands of hair that are surprisingly soft to the touch (Oliver knows that because he’s touched those stands reverentially in the showers, in hidden alcoves, during warm, hot moments of kisses and mouths trailing over flushed skin–). The green robes are flying out behind the solitary figure in the stands like a cape from one of Katie’s superhero comics, and there’s no mistaking the identity of the man. Not for Oliver at least.   Marcus is watching him. Has been for Merlin knows how long. All Oliver wants to do is touch down and drag himself over to the stands and crash into Marcus’ arms, but he resists the urge. Instead, he laps a lazy loop in the air, before his tired body forces him to retire, and instead of picking the pitch like a sane person, Oliver perches on the edge of the middle hoop, crawling off the broomstick onto the thick metal. It’s surprisingly comfortable. It’s also a ploy to wait Marcus out, but well. It doesn’t seem to be working quite yet. Some part of him wants to swing his legs around his broom, swoop down beside Marcus and kiss him senseless. Some part of him wants to pull Marcus in and just relearn the feeling of their bodies touching again. He reins this part in with every ounce of control and every shred of self respect he has. He holds it back, letting it kick and rage and fester at the back of his heart, where he keeps his pain and his misery and his urges to do things he will regret within five seconds. That part of his heart– It’s ugly. He turns away from the imposing figure Marcus cuts in the stands with his biceps bulging and his hair, longer than it was since Oliver last ran his hands through it curling around his strong neck. Oliver can feel the pressure of it, of Marcus’ head pillowed against his lap when they could sneak an afternoon away to the Astronomy Tower. Marcus’ dark hair curled into Oliver’s fist as they talked, as they kissed, as they pushed each other’s clothes off with all the pent up energy of two prowling hyenas going in for the kill. He feels the tears rise, but he doesn’t want to cry. Not here anyway, with Marcus watching for whatever Merlin-forsaken reason. Doesn’t want to raise his hand in the tell tale sign of wiping away his tears. Doesn’t want to be weak.

Instead he stares at the setting sun even though the riot of colours across the sky only make him angrier. Why should the world get to move on and revel in its beauty when his life feels like radio static? Why should sunlight have the right to twirl pretty patterns into Marcus’ eyes when Oliver isn’t there to see it? Why does even nature get to laugh at his sad, pathetic arse and why doesn’t he ever get to move the fuck on? “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.” “Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. “What,” he says without turning around for fear of what he’ll see, “are you doing here?” “Saw you practicing from the Tower. Thought I might join you.” Oliver lets loose a laugh. “Get lost,” he says, and grimaces when it comes out slightly choked. “Or I’m telling Hooch you’re spying on the Captain for his plays.” “I have plenty of plays of my own,” Marcus says, and Oliver cringes at the suggestive undercurrent of the words. “Or did you forget?” When the weight of his anger and his hurt and his exhaustion crash into him, Oliver almost falls off his precarious perch. He staggers slightly and has to reach out with one hand to grip the edge of the hoop. His other hand slackens around his broom, and it teeters dangerously in his loose grip. Somehow, he doesn’t have the energy to hold it tighter. The tiredness creeps into his muscles, his bones, the raging fires of his heart, shrouding his entire being in a blanket of heaviness that he can’t shrug off. Here he is, trying to hold himself together, and Marcus has the balls to be making innuendos. “Last I checked, Flint, your plays were off limits. And you didn’t want any of mine, either. Which begs the question that I already asked you, why the fuck are you here?” Marcus is silent, because of course he is. Damn bastard, he can’t even give Oliver a good reason, a good excuse for his real purposes. “Come to gloat?” He asks, and his voice comes out a broken whisper. “Come to check in on poor Ollie and how he’s doing now that you’ve binned him?” “Oliver–“ “Shut up,” he says, he begs, and turns to face Marcus, and promptly has the breath knocked out of him. Because Marcus, oh, he’s bathed in the light of the golden sun, bathed in every shade of desire, coloured in Oliver’s dreams. There’s that uncertain turn to his lips, as though he expects Oliver to shove him away, tell him to leave, as though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t look like he’s gloating (and Oliver knows how Marcus looks when he gloats, because goddamn, he’s lost Quidditch matches against this man). If anything, he looks a little wrecked, but in the most beautiful way imaginable, and Oliver– Oliver has never wanted to kiss someone more. Marcus sighs. His lashes flutter against his cheek and his shoulders droop slightly, and he looks a little lost when he gazes at some spot in the distance and says in a slow lilt, as though he’s searching for the words as he goes, “I– I missed you, Oliver.” And those words, the words he’s been craving to hear for a whole fucking month now wash over him, curl into the spaces that are yawning open and empty in the absence of the warmth Marcus had been when they’d spent those five glorious months in each other’s sunshine.

“We were just fucking,” he says anyway, because he’s too damn proud to be soothed of a month’s hurt by some half hearted confession of being missed. “Right, Flint? Just a fuck.” “You know that’s not true.” “Do I?” Oliver asks. He wants to be angry, wants his eyes to flash, wants to clench his fists and look ready to batter Marcus into a bloody pulp for daring to hurt him the way he did, but the words come out thick and heavy, laced with the burdens Oliver has been carrying alone. He never cared, he never looked at me as anything except a fuck, he just wanted some fun. Human beings, fragile creatures. Togetherness is more of an addiction than drugs and whisky could ever be. “Oliver, I– I was scared, and–“ “And you thought I wasn’t? You thought it was a breeze for me, that I hadn’t ever considered what the damn repercussions could look like–“ “That’s what you made it sound like!” Marcus throws both his hands up, and there’s a wild light in his dark eyes. “You made it look so easy with all your casual, hey Flint, care for a Butterbeer this weekend and Marcus, look at me and your damn smiles– and I– I was scared out of my mind Oliver, and you just looked like it was something you were born with.” “Born with what?” “Confidence! Fearlessness! Like you couldn’t give a fuck what people in locker rooms would think if you went pro, if I went pro, like you didn’t care that coaches would pay less attention to you, or make you the punching bag of the team, like teams would only sign you on if they had to pay you less if they found out about this.” Oliver sighs. It’s so obvious now that all through those months when Oliver had been caught up in a haze of a perfect love story of two Quidditch captains from historically rival houses, Marcus had been overthinking his choices, his career, everything. “This isn’t a hand job in a dark bed in the dorms, Oliver, and you know it.” He feels weary. Wrung out. “I wasn’t born with it,” he says, and looks away again at the darkening horizon. The sun is now a ball of red against a blue sky turning black. “What?” “Confidence, or fearlessness, or whatever you thought came easy to me. But you were scared about fucking up your career and I was scared of fucking us up. You were thinking about whatever pro team deals you dream of and I was thinking that something I would say or do would push you away because I’m too much of a stupid fuck for anyone to be with. Wood, have you got leaves for brains? Wood, if I knocked on that head would it ring hollow?” “Oliver,” Marcus says, and he sounds so shocked, so hurt that it’s like a string tied to the back of Oliver’s head has been pulled. He turns to face Marcus again, and he looks devastated.

He looks like he’s seeing Oliver for the first time.

“You really thought that I thought you were–“ “Bollocks for brains, yeah.” And because he can’t bear to see Marcus look so upset, he adds, “But that’s alright now. I’ll get over it, and you, and you can sign all the pro deals, and have a couple babies and no one will think you and I–“ Marcus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” Marcus says, and oh, he’s so beautiful when he’s angry. “You’re a bit thick sometimes, I’ll give you that,” Marcus says in a voice so low that it sounds like he’s admitting state secrets instead of the most obvious thing that anyone who speaks to Oliver for five minutes can pick up on. “But don’t ever think that you’re stupid, or that you’ve got leaves for brains– Oliver what the fuck? The way you– the way you remember all the damn plays starting from the fucking 1790s and how you can recite precedents for every move anyone makes on the field and how you know exactly which player to pair with which one, which one needs to be benched– Oliver, you’re made for this. You don’t need some Transfiguration O to prove that.” He doesn’t know whether to believe this is happening. And worse– he doesn’t know what it means. If he’s imagining it, he’s further gone for Marcus than he can ever admit to anyone who is not a Mind Healer. If he’s not imagining it, Marcus is here, after a bloody month of ignoring him, breaking his heart, stomping on it with the butt end of a broom, to tell him– Rage curls in his stomach. He jerks away from the hand Marcus has now slid onto his jawline, regretting the motion immediately when the thumb tracing circles into the space behind his ear is dislodged. “And you’re telling me this now? After telling me you care more about your career than a fuck? Why bother? If that’s how you feel– it’s not going to change!” Marcus looks down. Oliver wants to curl a hand under that drooping chin, pull it up, kiss it better, but he holds himself back. “I was scared,” he whispers. Oliver wishes he weren’t so fucking easy, because the ice walls he’d thrown up to keep Marcus and his mind games out is already thawing. “I was so scared.” “You had a reason,” Oliver mumbles. He looks down. The drop to the pitch is sheer, sharp. If he falls, there’s no way he can be saved unless Marcus decides to be a hero. The thought brings a small smile to his lips. “I was being a coward,” Marcus says sharply. “Thorne– Thorne’s y’know, bisexual and all that, and he’s playing great game with the Magpies–“ “We can’t all be Thorne. And Thorne was stoned in Diagon.” “By one man who was arrested by Kingsley Shacklebolt. We might not be Thorne, but we can try.” The sound that rips itself from Oliver’s throat is rife with the pain and frustration of a month of second guessing and heartbreak. “Why does it matter?” Oliver asks, his voice carrying in the emptiness of the pitch. “Why the bloody fuck does any of it matter Marcus, you don’t want this, it was just a fuck–“ It happens so fast that Oliver doesn’t process it till its done. Marcus surges forward on the broomstick, invading the meagre personal space Oliver had tried to maintain between them so he wouldn’t reach out, be overly-familiar, push Marcus away the first time he’d dared to venture close in so long. Their eyes meet, and the pitch, the hoops, the past month and their discussion fades to nothing but white noise in the back of Oliver’s brain. Marcus, bless his balance on a broom, reaches out with one hand to cup the back of Oliver’s neck and the other comes to frame his face, resting on his ear. He waits for a second, for permission, to be pushed away, hell, Oliver doesn’t know, and then they’re kissing, Marcus’ hot, perfect, slightly chapped lips fitting against his. Something clicks into place finally. Something disjointed and broken snaps back inside his chest and the heavy weight he’d gotten all too used to carrying lifts like the healed wing of an injured bird. His heart soars with all the delight of a creature learning to fly once more, and something in this urgent, heartfelt kiss feels like a reassurance. I missed you, it says. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m sorry for hurting you. A million apologies in a single press, a single touch, in the soft breath that gusts over Oliver’s nose. It could be seconds, could be decades when Marcus finally pulls away. Oliver has to shut his eyes, clench them tightly to keep the traitorous tears from falling, from ruining this perfect moment that he’s certain will be shattered anyway when Marcus realises what he’s done. But Marcus doesn’t release a horrified gasp, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t retreat with the air currents back to the stands. Marcus stays there, floating gently on his broom, holding Oliver’s face between his hands, waiting for something. Oliver’s too scared to open his eyes and figure out what. He’s never felt so small, never felt himself be flayed open by circumstances rendering him raw and broken and ready to be picked apart. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and Marcus is here to watch. He doesn’t know if this feeling of trust is warranted, especially after everything Marcus said and did, but he knows he can’t make himself be suspicious or cruel in this moment. He will hate himself forever if he pushes Marcus away right now, and of all the punishments Oliver has suffered, self inflicted misery isn’t one he particularly enjoys. But he can ask, so he does. “What now?” Marcus shrugs. Oliver feels it, the slight tremble, the tell tale stiffness and when he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see tears in Marcus’. “Are you–“ “Shut up, Wood.” Oliver watches Marcus close his eyes, bite his lip, whisper something inaudible and pull himself together. Watches him try to be steady. To know that they are here, suspended midair in a moment in time, being unsteady together rouses the buried beast of hope in Oliver’s heart. The sun has set. The horizon is a bruised blue now, and Marcus still looks like a shining beacon of future possibilities set against a dark sky of prejudice and inevitable darkness. “So. Thorne.” Marcus smiles despite himself. Nods. “Thorne.” “You’re kidding yourself if you think you play as well as Thorne does.” This time, Marcus laughs. It’s slightly choked, and only barely there, but it’s a laugh. “That’s not the fucking point and you know it.” “Oh I don’t know,” Oliver teases. “I’m a bit thick, aren’t I?” Marcus sobers up almost immediately. Oliver’s heart goes into overdrive, panicking. What if he said something wrong? Reminded Marcus of why he left? But Marcus merely looks serious when he says, “It’s still true.” “What?” “About the teams and coaches and the players. The world– The damn Quidditch world isn’t kind to people like us.”

Oliver looks at Marcus, at the depth of his eyes that people ignore when they critique him for being a bastard (he is a bastard, Oliver knows, just a bastard with depth and capability for kindness that Oliver feels privileged to know exists), at the worried cleft between his eyebrows, at the self conscious way in which he pulls his lips over his teeth. “The pitch makes up for it,” he says. “If I get to keep you and the pitch and my broom, I don’t give a fuck about what coaches and players and galleons have to say.” Marcus lets out a sound like a strangled sob and rests his forehead against Oliver’s. If Oliver hadn’t been holding onto his broom with one hand and the Quidditch hoop with the other, he’d have held Marcus a little closer, but he settles for kissing Marcus’ nose.

“I like galleons,” Marcus whispers after a while. For the first time in a month, Oliver feels a genuine laugh erupt from his chest, into his throat, out of his mouth. He feels light. “You’ll make plenty, don’t you worry,” he says instead. “Promising Chaser, conniving little Slytherin, bit of a looker too– why wouldn’t you?” “Are you calling me handsome, Oliver?” Oliver snorts. “Stop fishing. If the whole Quidditch thing goes balls-up, you can always model for Gladrags.” “Which section of Gladrags?” “Let’s see. Much as I’d love to see you in women’s lingerie, I don’t know if the civil public is willing to, so I’d say the part where handsome young wizards pose in their underwear with their hands suggestively placed behind their heads.” “The civil public doesn’t read Gladrags, Oliver.” “Are you calling me uncivil?” They burst into laughter, something dark and heavy lifting from their beings, and the tensed, tightened bolts of coiled emotion and anger loosening with every quip, every little kiss, every stolen moment of this. Above them, the sky darkens as the universe’s speckled cloak unravels with the fading light of day. Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a Centaur looks up. Somewhere, a first year student catches a glimpse of two figures on one of the hoops of the pitch and looks away with wide eyes and a racing heart.

On the pitch, two boys share a secret smile in the darkness, and somewhere above them, the stars align perfectly.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

An Open Invitation

Darth Maul x Jayna Dar, Darth Maul x OC, Force Sensative!OC, Can be read as Female!Reader, Light Angst

Warnings: NSFW, Rough Sex, Fingering, Force Bonding

Requested by @wolfangelwings​

Good on you for wanting to grow as a writer! I wish you luck! How about some smut practice? 128 from your prompt list, Maul and OC. I look forward to seeing what you pull off! If you accept of course

Sentence Prompt: “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

A/N: This is my first attempt at smut so bare with me.  Also, I wasn’t sure if you meant my OC or just a reader insert in general.  So, I decided to use this as an excuse to write for my OC Jayna.  But, it can be easily read as a female reader insert. I hope that’s okay.  And remember PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!!

Word Count: 3.3K

It had been a hard mission.  The simple fact both Jayna and Maul had come personally was a testament to that.

The syndicates were getting antsy.  While the war had allowed them to act with impunity, it had also allowed Maul to gain control with relative ease.  The freedom the crime lords had gained had been taken away too soon for some of their liking.  One small sect of the Hutts decided they did not like working for Lord Maul, and began branching out on their own.  Such branches needed to be cut, quickly and efficiently.  

And so they were.  Normally it would have been a job for Jayna and a handful of Death Watch troopers.  But, Maul had wanted to make a statement.  A reminder of who exactly these crime lords had pledged fealty to and exactly what the wrath of a former Sith Lord looked like. 

Jayna suspected it was also an odd form of therapy. Maul had been on edge lately, ever since his vision. He was right to be. Even if she could not fully see the future as he did, she could feel it. All the pieces were starting to come together; a large heavy boot over the galaxy just waiting to drop. Unfortunately for them, there was nothing to do, but wait.

He needed something to work the edge off. So did she. And when stamping out a handful of unruly gangsters didn’t do the trick… Well, there were other ways.

So, she found herself in Maul’s cabin, casually laid out on the bed and scrolling through her data pad until the door finally hissed open.

“What are you doing here?”

The question came cautiously, borderline annoyed, and in a timbre which came like a secret in her ear.

She covered the shiver going down her spine with a crooked smile as she turned her head.

“Well, hello dear. How was your day?”

Maul’s eyes narrowed. Stepping further into the room, he closed the door behind him. The space dimmed immediately at the loss of the hallway light.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Jayna rolled her eyes. “Really? And here I thought I was being obvious.”

For emphasis, she raised her knee allowing the silk robe she was wearing to slip, showing off her legs and the fact she was wearing nothing of value underneath.

She felt a twinge of satisfaction as Maul’s instinctual lust rippled through the force.

The air grew heavy with anticipation as he took her in. His breath came hard and low. His eyes lingering on her legs, traveling up her smooth torso to her breasts peeking out of the folds of the fabric. One shoulder was exposed allowing a clear line along her collar bone to her neck and finally to her green eyes brimming with amusement and hunger.

Jayna kept calm, the crooked smile never leaving her lips as she waited for him to make the first move.

But Maul was stubborn. The suffocating need was slowly being aired away as he gained control of himself. While his hand twitched and muscles strained, he would not give her what she wanted so easily.

“What have I told you about coming unannounced,” he said, his tone taking on a darker edge.

“That it was presumptuous and impulsive?” she answered, lightly.

“Yes. But the exact word I used was “don’t”.”

She shrugged. “You’re the one who gave me the open invitation.”

Maul’s lip twisted into a snarl.

She wasn’t wrong. They both remembered the way he all but growled into her ear the first time he made her cum.

The next time you need to be fucked, you come to me first.

That was as close as they got to official, but it worked for them. There were no promises to be kept. No expectations. She refused to bend to any form of master and he would not force her to. Still, there were moments like this when pride got in the way.

“I’m revoking the invitation,” he said. His voice slipping back into its smooth control while losing none of its edge.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You’ve abused the privilege.”

For a long moment they stared at each other. Jayna, carefully trying to probe his mind. Maul, effectively locking her out. Stalemate.

Finally, she let out a long, almost regretful sigh. “Fine.”

Maul blinked, unable to hide his surprise. “Fine?”

“Fine.”

She straightened up. Not a word left her lips as she adjusted her robe, making sure both shoulders were properly covered as she stepped barefoot onto the metal floor.

Maul just stared at her, waiting for an explanation, a sign of frustration, anything.

But, Jayna simply padded past him as if nothing had happened. She almost reached the door before he finally cracked.

“Where are you going?” he asked. The tentative control he had gained melted away as a low rumble from his throat accompanied the question.

She turned to him, her face taking on an almost innocent expression. “I thought I might knock on some doors. You’re not the only man on this ship after all.”

She then turned back to the door and pressed it open.

It closed before she could even take a step.

Her lip twisted in a satisfied smile. She won.

Maul was on her in a second. He grabbed hold on her waist, spinning her around before slamming her back against the metal door. She barely had time to breath before he attacked her lips in a bruising kiss. His hands made fast work, tearing open her robe as his tongue did the same with her mouth.

Jayna felt no shame at the moan that came from her throat. She was wearing nothing beneath the silk robe. The contrast of his hot skin against her chest and the cool metal at her back was sinful.

This was exactly why she came to him first.

His fingers worked their way up and down her body, grabbing and clawing at every inch of skin he could reach. Finally one hand settled on her breasts, tugging and rolling her nipple between his fingers, sending waves of pleasure straight down her spine. The other traveled down, right to where she needed him most.

Her wanton mewl was barely muffled by his mouth as he palmed her sex, spreading her wetness all over his fingers.

Maul hummed an approval as his lips pulled away from hers only to trail a line to her ear.

“Is this what you want little hunter,” he purred, brushing her clit with his thumb as he did so.

“Yes,” she gasped.

He chuckled darkly. It was the only warning she had before he plunged two fingers into her dripping cunt.

There was no mouth to silence her this time as she let out a piercing cry.

It only spurred Maul further as he continued his attack at a brutal pace.

She couldn’t think. She didn’t want to. All she knew was what she could feel.

His fingers reaching deep into her, curling and hitting just the right spot over and over again. His thumb working her clit. His hot lips burning and sucking the skin of her throat. She was certain the arm now wrapped around her waist was the only thing keeping her upright as she gripped his arms for balance.

Pressure was building in her abdomen. Beads of sweat dripped down her forehead, only to be caught by Maul’s tongue when it reached her throat. She was losing any control she had of her vocal cords. A string of groans, and cries, and babbling nonsense, poured from her mouth.

She could feel it. She was getting close. Her hips bucked wildly against his fingers as she chased her high. Fuck. Just a little more.

“You’d better be quiet,” Maul murmured, teasingly into her ear. “Or everyone on this ship is going to know what a wanton slut you are.”

Fuck. His voice was pure sex. But, even through the haze, Jayna recognized a challenge when she heard it.

Pulling her hand away from his arm, she grasped the back of his neck, keeping him where he was.

“Who says I don’t want them to know?” she whispered back.

Maul let out an animalistic snarl before pulling out of her pussy entirely.

Jayna could not stop the moan of frustration that left her lips. The loss of his fingers was palpable as her cunt ached and clenched at nothing.

She didn’t have long to mourn as Maul pulled her into a dangerous kiss. The lust on his tongue bordered on mania as he picked her up by her thighs, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

“If you insist on being a slut,” he growled. “Then let them hear exactly who is fucking you.”

He turned them around and walked only a few steps before dropping her on the bed.

Jayna wasted no time pushing herself up toward the headboard, making a point to face Maul the entire time.

The look in his eyes was that of a predator. Their normal golden yellow almost completely blacked out. He tore off his clothes leaving his tattooed chest completely exposed, a testament to his strength and agility.

Stars, he was beautiful like this.

His hands moved down the place where his metal legs met his skin.

This part, Jayna always had to see.

He pressed a button. A panel between his legs slid aside allowing a hard metallic cock to push its way out.

It would be easy to call Maul’s replacement cock a glorified dildo, but Jayna knew from experience it was so much more than that. It was shaped like that of a normal Zabrak male; three ridges sat after the head, each thicker than the last, long, and generous in it’s girth. She knew it was always warm and always hard. But more importantly, it brought Maul pleasure as well.

He took the length in his hand, stroking it roughly as a low moan graveled in his throat. Already beads of lubricate leaked from the tip. He wasted no time in spreading up and down his cock.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jayna thanked Mother Talzin for her attention to detail.

In a second, he was on the bed pulling her toward him by her ankle. She let out a small yelp of surprise as he wrapped her legs around his waist. He knelt on the mattress, gripping her thighs so hard all she could do was twist in his grasp. Her shoulders and head were the only thing touching the bed. He had complete control.

She didn’t fight him now. She just wanted his cock inside her already.

Still he teased her, not quite pulling her flush against him. He simply rubbed his length against her opening, her juices slicking the end of his dick.

Jayna tried to get leverage, bucking and twisting, but he just let her squirm. His lip turned up in a satisfied smile.

“Say it, little hunter,” he purred. “You know what I want to hear.”

“Fuck you,” she rasped.

“Not quite.” He allowed his tip to brush against her clit, sending a shiver of warmth up her back. “Try again.”

She bit her lip, trying her best to hold onto her pride, but her grip was slipping.

“Fuck me,” she demanded.

“Almost there.” This time his tip landed dangerously close to her opening.

It was becoming unbearable. Fuck him. Fuck him straight to hell. But stars, she needed him.

“Fuck me until the only name I know is yours,” she groaned. “Please Maul.”

And with those magic words he thrusted into her.

Maul’s name ripped from her throat in a desperate plea. Pain mixed with pleasure as he tore into her like a wild animal. There was no edicate. No form. Nothing but raw instinct and cardinal lust.

The ridges of his cock only heightened her pleasure, touching and moving inside her as nobody else had done before. How could she ever go back to humans after him? Who else could fill her so completely? Who could possibly make her feel like this?

Maul pounded into her, his fingers crawling into her thighs so tightly it hurt. His grunts and curses mixed loudly with her own. Anyone who came within ten feet of the door would know what they were doing. Somehow it only made it hotter.

She threw her head back, giving into every sensation. A hand went to her breast, pawing and pulling blindly as she rode the high. Her other hand reached down to rub her begging clit.

“No,” Maul snarled, ripping her hand away.

Jayna wasn’t given a chance to protest.

He yanked her upward, forcing her to straddle his waist. Her chest pressed hard against his. His hands gripped her waist just as dangerously as they just had her thighs.

Without skipping a beat, he thrusted up, impaling her again and again on his cock. The new angle pressed her clit perfectly against his pelvis sending sparks of pleasure through her body. It also gave him easy access to her tits which his mouth took with fever.

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes! Fuck! Maul! Yes! Maul! Fuck!”

It was as if those were the only words she knew. She latched to his body as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Still, she wanted more and she knew just how to get it.

Taking his face in her hands, she yanked his mouth from her breasts.

Something down right feral came from his throat only to be quickly sated by her lips on his.

“Let me in,” she rasped. “Let me feel you. Open yourself to me.”

Maul’s breath hitched. Their eyes met; green and gold and black. He cupped her cheek, keeping his forehead pressed. It was the first gentle touch he had given her all night.

“As you wish,” he whispered.

It was then she felt it; waves of pleasure, his pleasure pushing out and consuming every inch of her.

Maul moaned out her name, feeling the exact same thing she did.

Her throat tightened, blood rushed in her ears as she was hit again and again by the sensation. It sent her careening over the edge into oblivion; but it didn’t stop there.

Somewhere far away she heard a primal scream, whether it was her or Maul, she could tell.

Their minds were becoming one. Her own orgasm triggered Maul’s which crashed into hers which became part of his in an endless feedback loop. She couldn’t tell if it was a series of orgasms hitting one after another or it was one long continuous stream. All she knew was she couldn’t stop.

She didn’t know how long it lasted, but somehow, someway, she was able to breath. The white of her vision began to clear. Her thighs were still trembling around Maul. She was faintly aware of the nails digging into her shoulder and waist, and the small beads of blood forming there, but she was still too blissed out to care.

They stayed there a long while, each catching their breath.

Finally, Maul made the first move. Carefully, oddly gently, he pushed Jayna back down against the mattress, before slowly pulling out.

This time Jayna did feel a slight embarrassment at the discontented hum that came from her lips at the loss.

Maul collapsed beside her, his chest still panting from the exercise.

She could still feel him through the force. Not as strongly as before, but there none the less, as if part of him was still beneath her skin. It was an after affect of the bond and would fade in a few hours. She never got used to the sensation. She didn’t know if she should be afraid of it, or enjoy it.

“So,” she said, her voice hoarse from overuse. “Does this mean I get to keep my invitation.”

She turned her head to find him already looking at her. A small smile touched the corner of his mouth.

“For now,” he answered, dryly.

Jayna huffed a laugh as she reached out a hand. Gripping his neck, she coaxed him closer until their lips met in a gentle kiss. Maul responded in kind, his fingers curling into her dark hair.

The kiss was peaceful, lazy, and for its own sake. The lingering traces of the force bond only heightened the ease of it all.

Jayna liked this. She liked it a lot.

But as they lay there, she was starting to become aware of the sweat on her brow, the small cuts on her sides and the sticky ache between her legs.

Sensing her thoughts, Maul pulled away and lifted himself from the bed. Maybe he simply had better stamina or maybe it was the fact his legs were actually mechanical, but he always recovered faster than she did after this kind of sex.

He came back from the refresher with a washcloth in hand.

He took a comfortable position on his side, allowing him to lean over her as he pressed the cool cloth against her skin.

She hissed on contact, but he paid it no mind. Deligently, he wiped away the slick from her inner thigh and dabbed the small indented cuts on her sides and shoulders.

He was good at this. It always surprised her, how gentle he could be.

He set the cloth aside, but he did not move from his spot.

His fingers traced themselves lazily against her skin, caressing her in warmth. The feeling of being touched and touching was too good to pass up.

Maul practically purred as she reached out to him and once again pulled him into a kiss.

She needed this. They both did. A moment away from their connection to the force as a whole to be complete consumed by one another. She wondered from time to time if that was the real reason both Jedi and Sith preached the virtues of detachment. If two force sensitive beings could do this for the rest of their lives, they wouldn’t do anything else.

But, it couldn’t last. Of course it couldn’t. It had to end. Good things in her life always ended.

Jayna pulled away. The bond faded and she once again could sense the way the force was holding its breath. The proverbial boot about to drop. If she wasn’t careful, it would land right on top of her.

“What are you thinking,” Maul asked.

She let out a breath. “I’m thinking I should go.”

A small crease came to his brow. “Go where?”

Jayna suppressed a laugh at the sight. The boot momentarily forgotten. “Back to my room,” she said, before adding a teasing smile. “Straight back to my room.”

He was silent a moment; the crease on his brow never fully disappearing.

She wondered if tonight was the night he’d ask her to stay. She wondered if she would say no.

But he didn’t say a word. He simply rolled onto his back, giving her the freedom to leave. It made it harder, somehow. But, like so many things, pride and self preservation got in the way.

Jayna stepped off the bed. She could feel Maul’s eyes follow her as she made her way across the room; his gaze lingering on the scratches marking her back and thighs. She didn’t have to look at him to see the satisfied smirk on his lips.

Kneeling down, she picked up her discarded robe off the floor. She started to slip it back on when Maul called to her.

“Jayna?”

She turned to see Maul staring at her with an intense, but unreadable expression on his face.

“You weren’t actually going to knock on doors, were you?”

He had meant it as a statement. It came across as a statement, but the look in his eyes suggested something much different.

A part of her wanted to tell the truth. To assure him and herself that they weren’t alone. But too much disappoint told her no.

Keep your distance. Keep it simple. Make it easy to run when it all goes to hell.

She plastered on her signature crooked smile, hoping the playfulness met her eyes.

“I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

And with that she pressed the door opened and walked away.