#just need to keep afloat for the rest of the week

[ehnrat]

i can't wait to see my friends all at once for the first time and hang out for a week after a whole year of planning

[trans-librarian]

Why can't the world just stop for a little while?

[milawritess]

what cannot be said will be wept – gojo satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader synopsis: following the events from wherever you go, that's where i'll follow, the reader becomes incredibly sick. Satoru drowns in his guilt and reader struggles to grapple with the loss of her cursed technique. tags/warnings: angst, fem!reader, swearing, depression, guilt, dark thoughts, loss of identity, loss of powers, descriptions of gore/horror, tragedy, mentions of blood, breakdowns, reader is sick, Satoru doing everything he can to keep you afloat word count: 3.3k next entry: ii series mlist

The first few nights were unbearable. You made it—you survived, but you weren’t the same. Not even close. You were a fragmented, splintered hallow. You were nothing but a ghost haunting your own body. The weight of your fragility sat heavily in the corners of your home, creeping into the space where laughter once lived.

At night, you’d become so still, so quiet of breath, that Satoru would have to put his finger under your nose to see if you were still with him. There were nights when your heart betrayed you, skipping several beats or stilling altogether, long enough to drive him to the edges of panic. 

Baby, baby, wake up, Satoru would whisper in dread. It was only when you groaned that he sucked in a breath, drawing in the air his lungs were burning for. 

What? You would murmur, confused and disoriented. He’d suddenly pull you close, resting his head between your breasts as he listened to the only rhythm that brought him solace. 

Satoru found himself waking you up often. Soft kisses graced your face—your eyes, cheeks, and brushes against your lips. Other nights, he’d shake you awake in fear and trepidation. Your heart was too weak. The second sleep found you, it began to give. 

He could hear it, see it. 

Sleep was lost on him. He couldn’t risk it—could grapple with the chances of waking to find you—his entire world gone. You had come back to him, yet, for weeks, you straddled the line between being alive and moving to a place he couldn’t reach or follow. 

He couldn’t grasp, couldn’t fathom that even now, he was on the verge of losing you. 

“There are just some things I can’t heal,” Shoko told him one night. She arrived at his estate after he called her in a panic. You were cold as ice, and you struggled to draw breath. “There’s scarring in her frontal lobe… and there’s other damage that looks like it’s been there for a while. Maybe if I had caught this sooner-“

The damage was too great. He knew that’s what Shoko really wanted to say. 

There was so much more he needed to say to you, so much more he needed to make up for. 

Some nights, he grew bitter. You couldn't leave him—you wouldn’t dare. Not after everything you’ve been through together, not after loving him and making him feel love's perfect ache; not after you stripped him bare as you deprived him of pride and all resolve, rendering him down to nothing but a man on his knees, worshiping at the gates of your light. 

You undo him so wholly and completely. 

This wasn’t fair. Even with the powers most gods craved, he couldn’t protect you from this. What good was all this power if he couldn’t keep you? The best parts of you, the dark and wretched—all of it, everything—belonged to him. He loved the darkest shades of you, the brightest, and every color in between. 

When you were consumed in an unholy flame, one only he could ever reach beyond, he was housed by your warmth—reborn into something more glorious than the last. 

When had you fallen so cold? 

You had ascended onto him like nightfall, only to ignite and burn his world to ash. Yet, you sparked something within him in the echo of oblivion—a fire born of devotion was marred to his heart. 

He wasn’t going to let you off that easy. Death wouldn’t be enough for you to escape him. 

”You don’t get to leave me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “You’re not going anywhere. Not from me.” 

It was a rare moment of wakefulness. Your eyes flutter open, a dopey smile gracing your lips. You say his name. “Satoru,” you murmur. ”what are you talking about?”

He brushes the hair from your neck, kissing your cold skin. “I’m talking about you, sweets,” he moves up, kissing your cheek. “I need you to get better. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take in a long, shuddering breath. You couldn’t deny what you said now when you felt it in your bones. “I won’t leave,” you promise him gently, breathing slowly as sleep tugs at the corners of your consciousness. “Where else would I go?”

He takes time off from work shortly after. Well, he more or less just stopped going to work. He kept your condition close like a secret. Outside of the kids, Principal Yaga, and Nanami, no one knew what happened to you, and he would keep it that way. He didn’t need the higher-ups catching wind of this. 

It was just a precaution, his way of protecting you when you couldn’t protect yourself. You had enemies just as much as he did. He thinks he’d break the world in two if they ever touched you. 

However, Gojo couldn’t just wait and do nothing. He had to keep you comfortable, keep you warm. After cranking up the central heat and lighting a fire, he noticed you responded positively. It was far from comfortable for him, but it wasn’t about him, even if, most nights, sweat beaded on his chest and forehead. It was about your recovery and giving your body what it desperately needed. Heat. A heat, he fears, even as he eases you into a tub of the hottest water he could get from the faucet in his master bathroom, wasn’t enough. 

However, this was a start in the right direction. Your eyes fluttered open as your body sank into the steaming water. “This is nice,” you utter. “Really nice…”

“Hm, good,” Satoru says, grabbing the shampoo bottle. “Glad to be of service.”

You hum pleasantly as he starts massaging shampoo into your hair. “How many days has it been, Satoru?”

“Not sure what you mean, sweets.”

“Satoru,” you sigh softly. “How many days since the incident?” 

He pauses for a moment before his fingers continue rubbing the suds into your hair. “Fifteen days.”

“And yet, I don’t have a lick of cursed energy…”

“Hey, easy there,” he wipes the subs that threaten to fall into your eyes with his hands before grabbing your face and pinching your cheeks together. Just as you were about to swat him away, he kissed the pout off your face with one long smooch. “Take it easy, grumpypants. You’re still recovering.”

“Yeah, but for how long,” you mumble. “It’s never taken me this long to recover my cursed energy before. I just– I don’t feel the same.” Satoru takes a deep breath, watching as you stare down at the water, your fingers mindlessly fiddling with the necklace around your neck. “You shouldn’t have to be taking care of me like this or taking time off from work. They need you, the kids need you–”

“You need me,” he gently corrects. “The kids are fine, and Nanami has been covering for me.”

“Yeah, but–”

“You act like this isn’t something you’d do for me if I needed you.”

You look at him, eyes misting over. You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his neck. He didn’t care if he got wet as he held you, his hands rubbing softly at your damp back. “I really love you,” you tell him, burying your head into his neck. “I really do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, silly girl. I’m here. I’m with you.”

-

Weeks pass, and things only seem to get worse. 

You could hear their whispers, see their pitiful glances, and see how they all tiptoed around you. It made you furious. It wasn’t a loud, fiery rage that once fueled you. It was quiet and insidious—burning cold and cutting deeper than any wound you’ve experienced. You hated their pity, their careful steps, and how they looked at you as if you were a ghost. 

You had once been a force that could not be ignored or buried away—a wild inferno in a world that always tried to snuff out the smallest of embers. Your power was born of defiance, a testimony of your will, even vengeance. 

You weren’t always good. At times, you think Satoru forgets that. 

Yet, against all odds, every attempt to diminish and erase you from the annals of time, you remained unbridled, unbroken. You bore no titles and came from no golden lineage; it was your strength alone that helped you carve your place in the world and carve your name into the sun. You were powerful. Unforgiving. You weren’t something to be protected and admired; you were destruction, born of dark weather and chaos.

And yet, you fell. 

A part of you wonders if this was the price to be paid for your transgressions—a quiet, unrelenting suffering that hollowed you out from the inside. It was almost poetic in it's cruelty, as if the weight of your sins could only be balanced by the weight in your chest.

Your flames, once roaring and defiant, sputtered and dwindled. For a while, you believed it was exhaustion, but you knew, deep in your bones, you weren’t the same. At first, you told yourself that you had endured far worse. You strappled the line of death more times than you could count. Sometimes, it was fury that had you crawling from your grave. Others, it was vengeance fueled by the fire meant to burn the pyre of your enemies and all those who wronged you.  

But, your fire hadn’t just dimmed and weakened. It was gone. The power, once flowing through your veins like lava and liquid gold, was replaced by a cold and suffocating emptiness. Even if the taste of ash lingered and the scent of black smoke permeated your nostrils, you weren’t the same. 

You were only six when your cursed technique appeared. You’re incapable of remembering what led to such depravity, such evil, or maybe you couldn’t bring yourself to remember why the people of your village tried killing you. You didn’t remember much of your childhood, but you remember those laughs that still haunted you in your dreams—the same laughs you heard as you were thrown into a ditch your small hands and feet couldn’t have hoped to crawl out of. 

They doused you in rum and lit a match. When the fire ignited, you were left to burn into nothingness. You remembered the feeling of each nerve ending igniting, the excruciating pain that consumed you. You remembered how your scream became a soundless cry as your vocal cords were scorched. You remembered the smell of your burning hair and flesh, the way flames licked at your eyeballs until you were blind. You remembered the end coming suddenly, but not quick enough. You remembered crying for a mother you couldn’t remember, a father that never protected you. 

Then, you remembered how suddenly the word came back. The flames became nothing but a gentle sting. Your flesh mended, and when you drew breath, a black smoke filtered into your lungs, giving you strength. You could taste the ash, and the blood in your veins began to boil. You were born again amongst the flames that once brought you so much agony. You ruled them—fire incarnate: destructive, yet devastatingly alive. 

You hadn’t just lost your technique. You were stripped away of everything you had ever been. Perhaps what stung the most was how the world kept spilling. You were a woman of no renown, no legacy to speak of. And now, you had no fire to prove you had ever been worth anything at all. 

You wonder—had you ever been as strong as you truly thought? Or were you a flame burning on borrowed time, destined to extinguish into nothing? 

You wanted to be forgotten. You wanted to disappear, to return to your flames. You had once despised them; you thought they cursed you with the wickedness they were born from. But, even so, it had been yours. Even if the world always thought you were more of a monster than a sorcerer, perhaps one more terrifying than the curses conjured from the worst parts of mankind, they were yours. And yet, you were lost without them.

You had survived because you had felt the touch of love, came to learn to accept it, and nurtured it with a darkened heart and two hands. Love yanked you back to the surface, yet a bitter and selfish part of you wondered at what cost? 

You wondered if he thought of you differently, if his love was slowly fading along with you, but you were too afraid to look. He had already told you once that you weren’t nearly as strong as you thought. He was right. You were a failure.

You still loved him. You don’t think you could ever stop loving him, but that love became so twisted—tangling with your hurt, your pride, and your inability to forgive everything but yourself.  His kindness became suffocating; his attempts at assurance only ever reminded you of what you lost. Every look of concern or sympathy—real or imagined—was a dagger to the chest. He would leave eventually. He’d grow tired of your ups and downs and how your sweetness could so quickly transform into bitterness.

Even as your strength slowly returned—enough to move without sleep constantly tugging at your consciousness or being teethed to IV drips—the hallowed absence of your cursed energy remained. It had become stagnant, hitting an invisible barrier you couldn’t push or break, no matter how hard you tried.

-

“Baby?” Satoru whispers out for you one night. You don’t respond, but he knows you can hear him. “Can I come in?” 

You make no effort to move or stand. You were frozen, lost in a grief you don’t think you could ever escape. You were on your bathroom floor, heaving over a toilet with a hand pressed to your chest as if it were the only thing keeping it from caving in. He wonders if you still have the ability to sense his presence—if you could sense that he was there waiting for you. 

“Go away,” you told him. You didn’t want him to see you like this, not with blood poring from your nose and dripping from your lips. You were sick. You were scared, angry, and so fucking confused. You didn’t know what was happening to you or how to make it stop it. 

“You know I can’t do that…” 

He wouldn’t leave you—not when you needed him; not when the love remained, even if it was buried under mounds of hurt and pain. It would be the greatest betrayal, even if you begged for it.

However, he wouldn’t push you. So, he lies on the cold wooden floor, his back pressed against the door. Even with five feet between you two, he felt as if you were going somewhere far, somewhere he couldn’t reach. Again.

He goes silent for a moment, searching for the right words that seem so out of reach. He doesn’t think there is anything he could say to make this better, but he could try.

“I used to think for a while that my life had no happy ending,” he says, voice low and steady. “But, then, I met you. Your power drew me in, yeah. But do you know what else did? Those rare smiles. I wanted to be responsible for them—all of them.” Even as you remained silent, there’s no shying away from the emotions his words sturs. There's no escaping him. 

“It was how you demanded a whole room with just your presence. I admired how you loved and hated in equal measure. I loved your wickedness and cunning wit. You dared to challenge the world, and I–” His voice dips lower. It's only to you that he reveals these fragile, intimate parts of himself. “... You made me believe in something more than myself.”

“I’m not the same,” you swallow hard, throat tightening as tears threaten to spill once again. “I’m not… I’m nothing like the woman you met.” 

“Good,” he says simply, voice firm. “Because I don’t need her. I need you. Even when you’re angry and hurting or think you’ve lost everything, I’ll still need you.” 

You turn your head to the door, his words settling over you like a blanket, heavy and warm. Your gaze falls to the floor, finding the faint shadow of him waiting for you. 

“I’ve hated myself for so long for not being able to stop what happened to you. I feel like I failed you—failed you in every way that mattered.” His head falls back, thumping against the door. He loved you. He knew he did because he could feel it in the way his heart ached for you—in the way your pain became his pain. You’re still the woman he admired; you were still the woman he longed for. You’ve never needed power to rule over him, yet he doesn’t know how to make you believe that. All he has is his heart, which he bears to you with two trembling hands. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” 

And finally, as tears gather in your eyes, you realize he wasn’t here because he pitied you. Satoru wasn’t conditional—he didn’t know how to love in halves. You had always felt it, the lingering truths caught between two hearts. But now, he was here, baring it all—leaving no room for doubt or space for denial.

He loves you.

“Your fire isn’t just in your technique—it's in everything you do, angel. It's in the way you look at the world, how you fight for what you believe in, and even the way you love… it used to scare me,” he chuckles gravely. There wasn’t ever a moment, he thinks, that he wasn’t enraptured with you. He can’t recall a time when he hadn't been caught in your obit and seized in the invisible weight of your gravity. 

Your eyes fluttered close, your breath catching as his words settled over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel something other than the crushing burden of loss. You feel him, steady and unwavering. You don’t know if you should cry or let yourself fall into him entirely. 

“Satoru,” you trembled. “What’s happening to me?”

One thing Satoru could never do was lie to you. Not even about this, as his heart nearly fails him. “You're displacing more cursed energy than you’re retaining. It’s making you sick.” 

A shuddering cry slips past your lips. “... Am I dying?”

You hear him move behind the door. His voice, steady but tense, cuts through your panic. “I’m coming in.” 

“No, don’t–”

But it was too late. A locked door wasn’t enough to stop him. The knob crumbles under the force of his grip, a deafening crunch filling the room. Yet, despite the raw display of his strength, he pushes the door open with a gentleness that makes your chest ache. 

You were terrified, your hand pinching harder against your nose that refused to stop dripping blood. It was everywhere—soaking your shirt, trickling down your arm, dripping to the floor, and piling between the cracks of the tiles. You tried to clean it up, but it just wouldn't stop.

His eyes are a bit wide as he takes you in, but he doesn’t reveal much. His expression is unreadable as he drops to his knees. You crawl backward until your back meets the tub. “No, no, no, stop–” but it was futile. 

Blood stains his shirt, his hands, and smears across his cheek as he drags you into his arms. He doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he doesn’t care. 

“Satoru–”

“I don’t care,” he says sharply. His hands cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he presses you to his body. “I don’t care about that. Just… stay still. Breath,” he murmurs. “In and out. That’s all you have to do right now.”

You cry with such an unalloyed and raw pain that robs you of breath. It starts low, guttural, crawling from the deepest parts of you. It carries jagged edges, and swells into a sound so consuming, it drowns out everything else. Shaking, shuddering, choking—you fall apart, gasping for air between waves of anguish.

Satoru loses track of time suspended in the purgatory of your suffering.

“I’m not leaving,” he promises, trembling against you slightly. “And neither are you. I already told you before that you’re stuck with me.”

-

a/n: since my first fic did so well, i decided to make a mini-series depicting readers recovery :) feel free to send requests if you have any. i can either make a small blurb, a headcannon, or even make an entire chapter out of it. also, sorry if there are any typos its getting late lol

on a different note, i sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. my goal was to capture the readers suffering and Gojo's guilt, and i truly hope i did it justice. i also added a little bit backstory for the reader! i wanted to add layers and reveal that she's an imperfect character. regardless, i sincerely hope you enjoyed. please let me know your thoughts!! I would love to hear them :)

also, i know the kids weren't in this chapter but don't worry! they'll be around very soon!

lastly, thank you all so much for the overwhelming love and support on my first fic. i'm beyond grateful that so many of you enjoyed my writing. it genuinely means the world to me! your encouragement and kind words warmed my little heart.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: fratboy!seungcheol, smut, f reader, public grinding, penentrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys <3), oral (f receiving), etc

wc: 1584

a/n: not proofread </3

masterlist

fratboy!seungcheol who tends to not participate much in the parties his frat throws every week under the vice of 'keeping things in order' (whatever that means) and making sure none of his frat members get into trouble. despite no one ever asking him to, he gives himself the responsibility of watching over the parties without ever allowing himself to have any fun, claiming he's not interested in any drinking games nor has anyone ever caught attention anyways.

after multiple fruitless attempts from the boys to introduce him to girls or get him to stop stressing himself out over keeping his frat's reputation intact, cheol seems adamant in being a strict leader and giving himself the burden of keeping things afloat. that is, of course, until someone finally walks through the door and catches him completely off guard, causing him to forget any of his previous self-assigned duties.

he thinks he might've seen you before, but he cant be too sure. these parties tend to blend together for him, having always stuck to watching over his members and never having time to mingle on his own. he didn't care where he'd seen you before, though. he only cared to make sure he'd see you again soon. it had been a while since he'd approached a girl, not knowing very well what to do and just sticking to watching you have fun with your friends while he nursed a drink, back leaning against the wall. until his thoughts of you are rudely interrupted.

"could it be? choi seungcheol has his eyes on somebody?" it was yoon jeonghan, the second in command after seungcheol.

"what are you talking about," he asked, eyes still glued to your dancing figure from afar.

"like her? thats cute. wanna know her name?", now that peeked his interest.

"you're bluffing."

"promise i'm not. scout's honor," the younger made a cross across his chest as he said this.

"you were never a scout."

"same difference. wanna know or not?"

cheol hesitated, not wanting his friend's involvement in his first romantic endeavor in a while. he turned back to look at you, your pretty figure molded by your dress and your smile blinding him and made up his mind.

"fine"

~

y/n. that was your name. pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought. he hadn't ended up talking to you that night, chickening out at the thought of embarrassing himself due to lack of practice. instead he chose an easy and safe alternative; to keep a watch for you whenever his frat threw a party, which to be fair was quite often.

he'd watch you from afar, enjoying the varying dresses you'd wear to his parties, loving the way they stuck to the shape of your body. he didn't do much further than that. he felt like a bit of a creep, just watching you without letting his gaze be known, but the fantasy he was building of you in his head had him grow more and more in need of you every time he saw you. the thrill within him kept building up. he knew that one of these days he'd snap and finally talk to you, maybe even bring you to bed.

in retrospect, seungcheol should've realized that you'd eventually notice the brooding man atop the stairs watching you through the night. but he hadn't thought that far, simply enjoying the pretty sight, finally resting from his duties as leader.

you'd noticed him since day one, having one of your friends point him out while he was distracted speaking to your old lab partner jeonghan, letting you know of the guy whose eyes wouldn't leave your form. you weren't sure at first which of the two she'd been pointing at, but you hoped it was the man you knew as seungcheol, the head of the frat. you found both men very handsome, but something about seungcheol's demeanor immediately called your attention. you were happy to confirm, only a few minutes later, that the man who couldn't keep his eyes off you was the same brooding man you'd hoped. but it didn't stop there. you continued to notice his undivided attention on you every time you stepped into the frat, always making sure to wear something that would give him a reason to keep staring, occasionally throwing him suggestive looks of your own.

eventually you grew tired of this one-sided game of cat and mouse, wanting the real thing and not just the thoughts you had of him as he unknowingly gave you 'fuck me' eyes. it was only a few parties later that you decided to take action, wearing the dress you looked most fuckable in and walking through the fraternity's doors, determined to not come back home the next morning.

you danced for a bit, stopping for a few drinks every once in a while. you also threw him some looks of your own this time, making sure to catch his eyes every once in a while. you made sure to drink enough to be tipsy, but not too much that you wouldn't have full control of you scheme.

scheme was putting it lightly, really, seeing as you didn't really have much of a plan. how were you supposed to get him to fuck you without straight up propositioning yourself to him? no, you wanted to have at least a little bit of class. except things didn't go exactly as you'd planned, not that you were complaining.

he threw you a bit of a curveball, really. you hadn't expected him to approach you first, seemingly finally growing the balls to make direct contact. you'd been dancing, as you had been all night. you'd get the occasional guy or girl who would try and match your energy, dancing up on you. you were buzzed, so you didn't mind, usually just lightheartedly following along. what you hadn't expected was for one of those people to be seungcheol himself. you hadn't realized it was him at first, almost cussing him out when he'd started to get a little too close, usually setting up a clear limit when dancing with strangers, specially at a frat party. before you could say anything, though, he spoke up against your ear.

"been watching you. wanted to get you alone."

"what took you so long?", you whispered back, pressing your back closer to his front, if it was even possible.

he ground against you, making you gasp at what you felt against your ass. you felt a little flustered, having him shamelessly feel you up as you ground against each other in the middle of the frat's living room, surrounded by drunk people.

"aw, did i keep you waiting?" he coo'd sarcastically, keeping his arms wrapped around you.

damn him.

"yes. and you still are .. don't you have a room here somewhere?", you finally turned around to face him, almost gasping at the proximity. he was even prettier up close; so big and buff.

he looked down at you, eyes alternating between your eyes and lips, "follow me."

those were the last coherent words spoken between you, now unable to form any coherent sentence as he, for lack of a better term, fucked you into the mattress.

you'd never done this before; have such animalistic sex without a second thought, but the buildup between you and seungcheol had been long and grueling, having left you wanting him for weeks.

so now you were here, back arched deliciously as his cock hit you repeatedly in THAT spot that made you cry into the sheets beneath you.

"s-shit. fuck, baby. so fucking tight. so pretty for me."

"ch-cheollie, FUCK"

"been wanting you f-for weeks. thought about bruising these pretty hips. had me going fucking crazy wearing those dresses, shit."

"for y-you! did it for you," you cried out as he sped up, making you drop to your elbows, burying your face against the sheets, "wanted you to come fuck me .."

"i know, baby. shit. n im gonna fuck you all night. gonna fuck you to sleep, n then im gonna fuck you again tomorrow. gonna drag you to my room e- fuck. every time i see you at one of these parties."

he sped up even more, slapping his hips against your ass as you cried out for him.

"need you to be good n cum for me, yeah? gonna fill you up, promise. just need you to coat my cock with your cream, okay pretty?"

his words contrasted his harsh demeanor as he pounded into you mercilessly, only increasing the strength of his thrusts after claiming your orgasm, now desperately chasing after his.

"g-gonna cum, baby. fuck! in-inside? can i, baby? let me fill you up, let m-"

"yes! inside, please!"

he quickly reached his high after that, feeling you tighten up at the mention of cumming inside and filling you up with a groan. you finally let yourself fall on your face against the mattress, exhausted at your previous ministrations with seungcheol.

he didn't bother cleaning you up, simply flipping you around and dragging you to the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you before speaking up again, "we're not done, baby. i said all night, remember?"

those were the last words spoken before he dove in, nose first into your pussy as he sucked and licked like a madman, making you delirious at the pleasure. overstimulated, but loving the feeling, you prepared yourself for a very long night, and possibly morning too.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flirts IV

Mapi León x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You have to go

It's not that you don't want to be there because you do.

It's that you have to go away for a surgery.

There's some rich woman in California who needs you to operate on her cat. She's paying an extortionate amount for your services and sending a private jet to pick you up.

You love those kinds of pet owners, the ones with enough money to fly in the very best if only because of the clear love they have for all of their pets.

But they're also clients you can't deny.

If someone wants to fly you out for enough money to keep a family afloat for a year, someone with enough influence to make or break anybody's career, you can't say no.

Even if your girlfriend is fighting for Euro's qualification.

"Do you have to go?" Mapi asks, sitting inside of your unpacked suitcase like she was Bagheera in a box.

Honey sits on the bed, head in her paws as she waits, tail wagging, for Mapi to throw her tennis ball.

"Yes," You say, trying to choose between your purple or your blue scrubs," It's a lot of money. Enough for that fancy holiday to the Maldives you guys want to take."

"But it takes you away from us," Mapi whines and Ingrid makes an agreeing noise from over by the door.

"I've travelled for work before."

"You're going to miss my match," Ingrid says and a pit forms in your stomach.

Before this job came up, you and Mapi were meant to be travelling to Norway to see Ingrid's last Euro Qualifiers game before going off in a camper van with her parents.

You'd still make it to the last part, depending on what the labs for this cat came back as but you'd have to miss the match.

You reach out for her, drawing her closer by the waist and resting your head on her chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I am, really. I can call up and cancel if you really want me to. I know a guy to recommend instead."

Ingrid sighs, her chin sitting on the top of your head. "No," She says," That cat needs the best care possible. We all know you're the best. Go and be a hero."

"I'd hardly be a hero. It's just surgery."

"Surgery for some woman that clearly adores her pet cat. What you do saves lives. I think that makes you a hero."

"You're so sweet, Ingrid."

"And hot!"

You laugh. "Thanks for that, Mapi. I'm sure she knows that seeing as you tell her everyday."

Mapi shrugs with a smirk on her face. "I'm sure it's nice to be reminded."

Honey whines on the bed and you roll your eyes.

"Throw the ball already. She's getting impatient."

Mapi frowns, waving the ball around.

Honey's eyes dart around erratically to follow it.

"She isn't barking, though?"

You laugh, crossing the space to take the ball and lay a soft kiss on Mapi's lips. "Because she's well-behaved, Mapi. She knows not to bark unless it's an emergency."

You throw the ball up and down to make sure Honey's still watching before you launch it out of the room.

She's off like a shot as Ingrid hauls Mapi out of your suitcase.

You still feel guilty though, through the flight, through the labs, through everything.

The cat is cute one, a little tortoiseshell with an amicable nature and a complete lack of awareness of her surroundings.

You've always been an animal person. You've always loved all of them but living with Mapi and Ingrid has just given you an even newer appreciation for cats.

The checkup happens quickly and the labs are already done and completed by the time you arrive.

Money really does move things along because all the charts are perfect and after what should have been a week long wait to begin, you manage to take a day to get over your jetlag and get to work immediately the day after.

Surgery is simple to you. It's easy and soon enough the cat is halfway to recovery.

You don't quite understand how private planes are hired and sent out, if someone has to book a runway days in advance or if they're open indefinitely.

The original plan had been for you to take a week to do this but now it's all done, you don't quite know what to do with yourself apart from stew in guilt.

You had planned to take your mind off Ingrid's game by throwing yourself into work.

You have no work though and can't help but imagine yourself in Norway with your girlfriends, curled up in Mapi's arms while Ingrid whispers to you.

You swipe away a tear as you head down for dinner, your host gracious enough to treat you to a meal for all your good work.

You've gone radio silent to your girlfriends but neither are surprised.

You're always like that when you go out of the country for work, focused only on your patient. You want no distractions.

Mapi sits slumped in her seat next to Ingrid watching Norway play their last qualifier, sighing to herself as she looks at pictures of the three of you together.

"What's with the pout?" Ingrid teases, running her thumb over Mapi's jutted out bottom lip.

"I miss her," Mapi mutters, feeling a bit like a little kid sulking.

"I know but she'll be here soon and then we go out exploring with my parents before heading back home for preseason. It's not that long of a wait."

"I don't want to wait at all."

"I know but-"

A body slumps down on Mapi's other side and both of them turn.

"I'm not really a fan of this hotdog," You say," It's not bad but I guess I'm not that hungry. Do you want some Mapi?"

You don't get an answer from her because she crushes you into a hug. The hotdog that you regrettably bought squishes between your bodies.

You don't complain though, especially when Ingrid moves into the hug as well, tightening her grip around the both of you.

"I thought you couldn't make it?"

"Money talks," You tease," And the owner felt a bit of pity when I told her that I'd have to watch this match on tv. Chartered a jet for me to come straight here."

"And the cat?" Mapi asks.

"The cat's good. Recovering."

"I'm so happy you're here."

"We're both happy," Ingrid says," So, so happy."

You grin at your girls, the smiling splitting your face.

"I'm happy to be here too."

[littlexdeaths]

i think they deserve some good ole’ love making, don’t you?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), eddie is a pussy drunk lover boy, riding, unprotected piv sex, cream pie and just some over all cuteness… they deserve it <3

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: big thank you again to the loml @strangerstilinski , also i totally picture time of the season by the zombies playing on the radio during this chapter… enjoy freaks xx.

the sweltering august nights had finally faded into a more tolerable autumn, the leaves beginning to bloom in a array of yellows and reds.

after your disaster of a date at the hawk a few weeks prior, you both agreed to meet exclusively at eddie’s trailer from now on. as it was the one place that was safe from the prying eyes of your brother.

so far anyway.

the cool september breeze that filters through his cracked window offers you some reprieve from the rising temperatures in his bedroom.

his hands are everywhere, gentle and warm as they kept your hips pressed into his mattress. the radio is playing softly in the background, an oldies station that neither of you cared to change.

as the both of you far too preoccupied with the weight of his ribs between your hips.

his tongue continues to lap against your overly sensitive core, already having coaxed two orgasms from you in the last half hour alone. your fingers are buried in his hair, curls mussed from your constant tugging and damp from sweat.

your soft whine of his name has his head lifting, flushed cheek pressing into the meat of your thigh. his pupils are blown out and glassy, your juices that are smeared across his chin shine in the muted light of his bedside lamp. the colorful handkerchief draped over it casts him in a soft pink glow.

and he’s never looked so beautiful to you before.

“c’mere,” you plead.

he’s crawling up your body without another word, lips locking with yours. he kisses you deeply, hips rutting against yours with fervent need. the feeling has you gasping into his mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

another pointed roll of his hips has your fingers sliding down his bare chest and lightly pushing against it. eddie pulls back slightly, the worry that fills his features quickly dissolves when he takes in your lustful expression.

“lay back for me, handsome.” your words come out soft, but more desperate than you intended.

and eddie, eager to please as always, just flops down on the mattress beside you. he just gazes up at you, doe-eyes filled with devotion as you place your palm on his chest and move to straddle his waist.

you can feel the flutter of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, chest rising and falling as you seat yourself on top of him.

you’re both treading in uncharted waters, but the encouraging look in his eyes helps to keep you afloat.

an experimental drag of your hips has him groaning, rough fingers splaying over the tops of your thighs. you can feel him— hard, heavy and straining beneath the fabric of his boxers. the thin layer is the only thing separating your bodies now.

the mixture of your slick and his saliva soaks into the checkered fabric, allowing you to glide your hips more easily against his shaft. the damp material catches against your clit in just the right way, pulling a whiny moan from your throat.

“that’s it,” he mumbles, helping to guide your hips. “take what you need, baby.”

your hands that are resting on his chest suddenly dip lower, the male helping to lift your hips so you can tug his boxers down his thighs. when eddie moves to kick them off the rest of the way, the sudden motion has you tumbling forward and accidentally knocking your heads together.

“whoops,” you breathe as you lean back, cradling your forehead in the palm of your hand. “sorry… you okay?”

your lips jut out in a small pout, suddenly worried that you ruined the moment due to your inherent clumsiness.

he glances up at you before licking his lips, “it’s hard to say…” his brows then quirk up beneath his bangs, a breath blowing past his spit-slick lips.

“but y’know, now that you mention it…”

he draws it out, an over dramatic lilt beginning to bleed into his voice.

“i am starting to feel a bit woozy.” he pauses, before the corner of his mouth turns up in a cheeky grin. “not from a concussion, of course, but having a pretty thing like you on my lap is—”

and quickly shut him up with a kiss, feeling the laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“you’re such a shit head,” you giggle, nipping at his lower lip.

“oh yeah, keep talking to me like that, sweet thing.” he teases, “you know how that gets me going.”

feeling suddenly emboldened you reach between your bodies, grasping his hardened length in your palm. his answering groan only encourages you to grip it fully as you sit back up.

you nudge the reddened tip through your drenched folds, mewling softly when you slowly start to sink down onto his thick length.

“that’s it, slide it in— oh fuuuuck,” he all but whines.

you’re panting by the time you’re fully seated, palms resting on the flat of his stomach. his cock is nestled at your deepest point and you swear you’ve never felt so full in your entire life.

eddie regards you with the utmost tenderness as you raise your hips, nearly letting him slip out of you before you’re guiding them back down with a small gasp. your pace is slow but steady, gradually taking him even deeper with each subtle rock of your hips.

your head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot. his hands that were resting on your hips begin to trail up your sides, underneath your shirt to kneed your breasts in his warm palms.

“look at you,” he groans, encapturing you in the warmth of his gaze. “… like a goddamn dream, baby.”

you’re far too engulfed in your own pleasure to register anything he’s saying. besides the lewd whimpers that continue to spill past his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. the sensation soon becomes overwhelming in the most intimate way possible.

“god, i love you…”

those three little words slips past his lips before he can stop them. so drunk off the feeling of you wrapped around him that he doesn’t realize he’d actually uttered them aloud.

despite the lustful haze that continues to dull your senses, you suddenly hear him loud and clear.

when your hips gradually increase their pace, your fingers wrap around the chain that has fallen into the hollow of his throat. you grip the guitar pick in your fist, coaxing him up until your clothed chest is pressed against his own and his forehead touches yours.

“say it again,” you plead.

his eyes widen as the realization of what he’d just said finally sinks in. but there’s no trace of fear in them when he cups your cheek in his palm.

“i love you, sweetheart.”

your mouths meet in a sudden clash of tongue and teeth, and he swallows each breathy cry that leaves your swollen lips as you meet your end. he allows you to bury your face in the crook of his neck, panting as he chases his own release.

his thighs tremble and he fists the back of your shirt— keeping you pressed against him as he fills you to the brim. only then does he let the exhaustion take over, both of you falling back into the mattress in a heap of entangled limbs.

you both lay like that for a while, letting your breathing slow as the radio continues to fill the comfortable silence.

when you dare a quick glance up at him, your heart thumps even louder in your chest. his eyes are shut, his wild curls fanning out over the pillowcase. he looks so content you would’ve thought he was sleeping, but the subtle quirk of his lips tells you he’s wide awake.

eddie carefully peeks one eye open and you quickly hide your face back into his shoulder. a deep chuckle rumbles in his throat when he catches you staring, but it still makes his heart flutter beneath his ribs.

when you finally muster the courage to speak, your words are muffled, lips pressed into the sweaty skin of his clavicle.

“i love you too.”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove

let me know if you want to join the taglist for this series!

[cera-writes]

Hi! So I recently got into X Men again after watching Deadpool & Wolverine and by god do I love Gambit! I found your blog and your stuff for him is so good! I do have a request for you if you don’t mind. Could I please get a spicy first time with Gambit and fem!reader? It’s not her first time with a guy but maybe there’s been some tension building up and he wants to show her what a real man can do if you know what I mean lmao. I’ll leave it pretty open ended, I trust you’ll make something awesome! ❤️

A/N: Saaaaame! My obsession with this man is unwavering 🫦 Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: sex in the water, pining, fluff, shy!reader, pnv sex Summary: Reader decides to take a swim in the lake by the mansion. Having never had much luck with guys in the sexual department, Remy decides to show the reader how good it can really be and joins her in the water.

A Moonlit Dip

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tranquil waters of the lake that nestled quietly at the edge of the X-Mansion grounds. You had slipped away from the main building, seeking a moment of solitude and perhaps a bit of refreshment in the cool water. The air was thick with the scent of pine and wildflowers, a welcome respite from the ever-present tension of mutant politics and training sessions.

As you waded into the lake, the water felt like silk against your skin, soothing the day's stresses. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was the only sound, save for the distant chirping of crickets preparing for nightfall. You dove under, letting the cool embrace wash over you, feeling more alive than you had all day.

Emerging from the water, you wiped the droplets from your eyes, only to find Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, leaning casually against a nearby tree, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His usual smirk played at the corners of his lips, and he pushed off the tree, sauntering towards you. You let out an inhuman shriek, startled at seeing his face looking directly at yours. "Jesus, Gambit..." you huffed.

"Bonsoir, chérie," he drawled as he fought back the urge to laugh, his Cajun accent thickening the syllables. "Looks like I ain't the only one who knows how to find a little peace 'round here."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, not expecting company, especially not him. "Just needed a break," you admitted, treading water to keep yourself afloat, suddenly aware of how exposed you must look in the fading light.

Remy chuckled, removing his trench coat and tossing it aside. "Well, since you're already in d'ere, mind if Gambit join you?"

Before you could respond, he was peeling off his shirt, revealing a muscular chest that hinted at countless hours spent training and staying fit. After that came the rest of everything below the belt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped into the water, his eyes never leaving yours. The water seemed to part around him, as if welcoming its master back home.

"Ain't no gators in dis lake, mon cher," he teased, swimming closer. "But Remy reckon ya might have somethin' to worry 'bout anyway."

His proximity made the water feel suddenly warmer, the space between you charged with an electric tension that had been building for weeks. You remembered the lackluster dates, the guys who failed to ignite even a spark, and here was Remy, making your heart race with just a look. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't rubbed one out to just the sound of his accent alone as it filled your thoughts when you were by yourself.

"What would that be?" you managed to ask, your voice sounding faraway even to your own ears.

He closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist beneath the water. "Me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Remy seen you wit' them, chérie. Seen how d'ey couldn't hold a candle to what we could be."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and real. You turned to face him, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the smooth skin. "And what is that?" you challenged, though your voice trembled slightly.

Remy's smile was soft, almost vulnerable. "Something real, somethin' hot enough to burn away all those other cold nights." He leaned in, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let Gambit show you, belle. Lemme show you what a real man can do."

The world around you faded into insignificance as his lips met yours, soft at first, then deepening with a passion that took your breath away. His hands roamed your body, exploring, claiming, igniting fires wherever they touched. You responded in kind, your shyness melting away under his confident touch, giving in to the desire that had simmered between you both for so long.

In the water, limbs intertwined, breaths mingled, and the night seemed to hold its breath, watching the two of you explore each other with a hunger that was both new and ancient. Remy broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, his hands guiding you deeper into the water, where the privacy was absolute.

"Tell Gambit whatchu want, chérie," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

You gasped as his fingers found a sensitive spot, your body arching toward his touch. "Show me," you begged, your voice breaking with emotion. "Show me everything, Remy."

With the moon as your only witness, you finally surrendered yourself to him.

With a low growl, Remy obeyed, his actions deliberate, every movement calculated to send you spiraling into pleasure. The water became an extension of his body, caressing you in ways you never imagined possible. You clung hard to him, nails digging into his skin as your world narrowed down to the sensations he elicited, the heat building within you like a dam about to break. You hissed in pleasure when he thrust even harder inside of you, feeling every inch of his hard dick throbbing inside your walls.

"Dass'it, belle," he encouraged, his voice rough with exertion. "Let go for Remy. Lemme see you fly."

And then, with a final, exquisite thrust, you did, soaring through the clouds of ecstasy, your cries mingling with his groans of satisfaction. The world came crashing back, the stars above seeming brighter, the water warmer, and Remy, more breathtaking than ever before.

He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. "Was dat good, chérie?" he asked, his tone raw with emotion.

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of sensations he had unleashed.

Remy kissed your forehead, his arms tightening around you. "We should get outta de water, cher. Night's chill settin' in."

You reluctantly had to agree.

His hand found yours as he led you out of the water, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped you moments before. The moon cast a silvery glow over the lake, making the droplets on your skin shimmer like diamonds. You shivered slightly, not from cold, but from the lingering thrill of what had just transpired between you. You'd managed to find your clothes in the dark, quickly dressing as Gambit did the same.

"Here, chere," Remy murmured, draping his coat around your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body, and it smelled faintly of his cologne—a mix of spice and something uniquely him. "You catch a chill, Gambit'll never forgive hisself."

You smiled up at him, feeling the weight of his concern, and more, the depth of his affection. "Thank you," you whispered, pulling the coat tighter.

He nodded, his eyes soft as they met yours. "Let's walk, yeah? Getchu warmed up proper."

Hand in hand, you strolled along the lakeside, the silence between you comfortable, filled with unspoken words. The crickets had resumed their song, and somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill, its call echoing through the trees.

"Been wantin' to do dat for so long," Remy confessed suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Ever since dat night at the bonfire when you laughed at my terrible joke and didn't even care dat everyone else thought it was lame."

You chuckled, remembering the event he spoke of. "It wasn't that bad," you defended, though you knew he was teasing.

"Maybe not," he agreed, "but it was enough to make Remy think maybe, jus' maybe, you were different. That'chu saw me, not jus' Gambit the playboy, but Remy."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice touching a place deep inside you. "I do see you," you admitted, pausing to face him under the moonlight. "All of you. The good, the bad, the Cajun charm... which I love, by the way." You'd confessed.

Remy laughed softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And here Gambit thought he was bein' subtle," he joked, though his eyes remained serious. "You deserve someone who's upfront, someone who can give you all de fire ya need, chérie."

You leaned into his touch, the vulnerability between you both palpable. "And you think that's you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Gambit know it is," he replied without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "I wanna be de one to stand by your side, through thick and thin. To show you every day whatchu mean to me."

Tears pricked at your eyes, moved by his declaration. "Remy..." you breathed, searching for the right words.

He shook his head, placing a finger gently against your lips. "No need to say anything now. Jus' think about it, yeah? Let it sink in."

You nodded, understanding his request. This was a moment to savor, to reflect upon, not to rush through with hasty words.

They continued walking, the conversation lightening as Remy regaled you with tales of his youth in New Orleans, the mischief he and his friends had gotten into, and the lessons he had learned along the way. You listened intently, enchanted by his stories, by the man himself. You didn't think it was possible to fall for him even more but he had that charm all the same.

As the path wound closer to the mansion, Remy slowed his pace, his expression turning thoughtful. "Y'know, dere's somethin' I've always wanted to show you," he said, his tone mysterious.

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him. "What's that?"

He grinned, the familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. "A secret spot, up in de hills. It's where I go when I need to clear my head, or jus' feel...free."

Your interest was piqued. "Sounds magical," you mused, imagining the possibilities.

"It is," he confirmed, his hand squeezing yours. "Maybe one day soon, Gambit'll take you de're. Show you de view, letchu feel de wind in your hair."

Excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of sharing such a personal place with him. "I'd like that a lot," you admitted, smiling.

As they reached the edge of the woods, the lights of the mansion peeking through the trees, Remy stopped once more, turning to face you fully. "Tonight was...incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for lettin' me in, chérie."

You shook your head, unwilling to accept gratitude for something so mutual, so transformative. "There's nothing to thank me for," you insisted. "It was...perfect."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Perfect, huh? Well, maybe next time we can aim for legendary d'en," he teased, his eyes twinkling.

Laughing, you nudged him playfully. "Oh, is that so? And what would make it legendary, pray tell?"

Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "How 'bout we find out together?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

Your pulse quickened at his suggestion, the promise of what could be hanging in the air between you. "I think I'd like that," you admitted, your voice catching ever so slightly.

With one last, lingering look, Remy turned towards the mansion, tugging you gently along. "C'mon, chere. Let's getchu inside before you turn into an ice sculpture. Gambit'll cook ya up somethin' to warm your soul."

You laughed, the sound carrying on the breeze as you followed him, your steps lighter than they had been in ages. As you walked, wrapped in his coat and his affections, you couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something truly extraordinary, like the man himself.

[emocheol]

princess treatment

your boyfriend is a burnt out workaholic, so now it’s your turn to give him the princess treatment

jihoon x reader, fluff

for the past few weeks your boyfriend has been locked in his studio, creating new songs and putting finishing touches on old ones.

every night he would come home in the early hours of the morning, collapsing into your bed and pulling you into his arms. you were his solace, the only thing that could make him feel relaxed before he had to leave again and do it all over.

jihoon not only had no time for you but he had no time for himself and it was quite evident.

you constantly had to send him texts, reminding him to eat and take a break. he would send you a ‘thanks babe love you’ text back, but you doubted he actually took any time off.

whenever you called him you could just hear the exhaustion in his voice, but he would tell you it’s fine and he’d see you at home.

but you never saw him at home since he went to sleep after you and left before you woke up.

you were absolutely sick of him not taking care of himself so, you were taking things into his own hands.

once again, he came home at around 2am— when you were already asleep.

but by sheer willpower you made yourself wake up at 5am, an hour before he usually left again for his studio.

you slowly lifted jihoon’s arms off of you and untangled your legs, sliding yourself off the bed so you didn’t make any movements to disturb him.

you then tiptoed around the house, grabbing your boyfriends car keys, phone, and laptop. you took them all and hid them in places that you were 100% certain he would never look.

after doing so you got back into bed and cuddled up with jihoon once again, but you stayed up, playing with his hair and on your phone. you were worried that if you fell asleep he’d slink out of bed and you wanted him to stay in bed and relax.

when 5:45am hit jihoon started stirring, his internal clock waking him up even without an alarm. he started moving around, trying to get out of bed like he was on autopilot.

“morning, baby,” you whispered, trying to tighten your grip on him so he would stop moving around.

the sun had just begun to rise so you could see the perplexed look on his face. “hm? why are you up already?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“because,” you said in a singsong voice, “i made the executive decision that you’re taking a day off,” you said proudly, shifting your bodies so you were now laying on top of him. your chin rested on his chest while you gave him a toothy grin, already knowing what his answer was going to be.

he fought a little battle in his head. his heart wanted to stay with you in bed but his head (the workaholic part) thought he needed to get back in the studio asap.

“as much as i appreciate it…—” he began, his tone apologetic. but you weren’t having any of it.

“nope.” you cut him off, “you are staying here with me and i’m taking care of you all day.” you explained, not wanting to hear any back talk.

“sweetheart, i really need to go to the studio…” he tried to reason, even though, he could afford a day off. he just hated being behind that stupid schedule that he had for himself in his head.

“no, you need to stay here, with me, your partner,” you said with emphasis, “when was the last time we talked like this, face to face? you’re always in that damn studio!” you whined a little, trying to make him feel a guilty so he’d give up the battle.

when he thought about it he did feel quite guilty. sure he spent all his nights alone, but so did you. at least when he got home there would be someone waiting for him in bed, when you went to sleep there was no one. now you were tugging at his heart strings.

but he promised that once this album was over he’d be back more. that was what was keeping him afloat in the studio, and barely afloat at that. just a few more songs, that wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

“i know, i know…” he said softly, rubbing your back with his hand, “but i only have a few more songs left…” he tried to reason, bracing himself for your next retort, even though he hoped you were loosening the reigns.

“absolutely not,” you exclaimed, “and i hid your keys,” you made sure to mention, so he’d have no way of leaving.

he opened his mouth to retort.

“and your phone,” so he couldn’t call an uber or have one of the guys pick him up.

he furrowed his brows but then came up with a solution. he opened his mouth to speak again before you cut him off.

“and i hid your laptop,” so he couldn’t work from home.

with your last words he frowned, an adorable pout on his face. “i guess you got me there…” he said thoughtfully, not thinking of any other way to get around this. “what’s the plan then?” he asked, “you lay on top of me all day and we cuddle in bed?” he suggested, “because i can get behind that.” he said truthfully.

you nuzzled your head in his chest and let out a sigh of victory, knowing that he gave up on trying to go to work. “i have a few ideas,” you hummed, pulling the blankets up over the two of you, “but they involve a little more sleep,” you yawned, not being able to fathom how jihoon got so little sleep every night.

he looked down at you with adoration, “alright, sweetheart, get your beauty sleep,” he teased, tightening his arms around you. it’s been so long since you’ve been able to fall asleep in his arms.

in that moment everything felt so right for the both of you.

—

when you awoke for the second time your boyfriend was still in bed with you, and you considered that a victory.

you still laid on top of him, being able to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept peacefully. all you could do was admire him.

after a while you decided to reach over to the nightstand to check the time on your phone.

10am. good. jihoon got 4 more hours of sleep than he was used to.

your moving around must’ve woken him up and you heard a low grumble from beneath you.

“morning, baby,” he murmured, “again,” he added with a deep chuckle.

“morning,” you smiled back, setting your phone back down and looking up at him. he looked more refreshed than he usually did, the dark circles still under his eyes but those were nearly permanent on him at this point.

you got into a slow and light conversation, talking about some things that he had missed out, catching him up on drama, telling him how much you love him.

when he moved to get out of bed you pressed your palms on his chest. “wait! stay in bed, i’m going to go make you breakfast,” you grinned, wanting to be the doting partner for once.

jihoon just raised an eyebrow at your persistence and shrugged, “if that’s what you want to do, darling,” he said sweetly, knowing that he couldn’t argue with you today.

“perfect,” you pecked his lips and pushed yourself out of bed, “if you need anything yell for me,” you told him, tossing the tv remote next to him so he had something to entertain himself with.

you decided to make his favorite breakfast foods, cooking them to perfection and bringing it to him on a big platter that would sit on the bed comfortably.

“breakfast is served,” you said in a cheery voice, softly kicking the bedroom door open with your foot since your hands were full.

you could’ve sworn you saw hearts in jihoon’s eyes when he looked at you, and more importantly at the food in your hands. he couldn’t remember the last time he had a meal that wasn’t from a convenience store or fast food restaurant.

“you’re an angel,” he said with a sigh, sitting up further in bed and letting you set down the platter.

you jumped into bed next to him and began to eat together, watching some sitcom rerun while you were tucked into his side.

you ate in silence for a little bit, mindlessly watching tv while you slowly ate the heaping breakfast that you had made.

“what’s all this for?” jihoon finally asked, grabbing one of your hands and playing with your fingers. all he felt when he looked at you was love and adoration.

“there has to be a reason to pamper my princess?” you joked, taking your free hand and ruffling his grown out hair.

he swatted at your hair and gave you a fake pout, “princess?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at your choice of words.

“yup! i’m giving you the princess treatment today, we have a lot left in store.” you grinned, sitting up further and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

he reeled back from your kiss with a groan, dramatically wiping his cheek. “i love you more than anything but don’t you dare get your saliva all over my face,” he groaned, jokingly pushing you away but not putting any force behind his actions.

you just rolled your eyes at his actions, but secretly you were loving it. he hadn’t joked around or smiled this much in weeks. he was so carefree, not thinking about work for once.

“okay fun police,” you said with a shake of your head.

once you had finished your breakfast you got up and put the dishes back in the kitchen, still making jihoon stay in bed.

“next order of business, i need you to lay down,” you said with a smile, going to the bathroom that was connected to your bedroom.

“i’m scared,” your boyfriend joked, but followed your orders, laying flat on his back.

“don’t be!” you shouted back, knocking over different bottles in the bathroom and searching through different cabinets for supplies.

“all the noise you’re making in there makes me even more scared!” he shot back, taking note of the sound of falling bottles and slamming cabinets.

you ignored him and continued to grab different items before coming back into the bedroom with your arms full of spa supplies. you dropped them all on the bed next to jihoon and clapped your hands together.

“spa time!” you said excitedly, “oh wait let me get something else,” you ran to the kitchen and quickly cut up a cucumber so you could place them over his eyes.

your boyfriend, although reluctantly, always did face masks with you and let you pamper his skin when he wasn’t busy. you hadn’t done it in ages and you knew it would relax him, plus he deserved it.

when you got back to the room he was looking through the different bottles that you had thrown on the bed so you gently nudged him back to laying flat.

you got a hair tie and pulled his hair back and out of his face before tying it securely. you then jumped up onto the bed and sat down on his midsection, ready to begin your pampering of him. his hands instantly went up to your legs that were straddling him, resting his hands on your thighs.

“nothing for you?” he questioned, noticing that you weren’t prepping your own skin or pulling your hair back.

“nope, all for you,” you replied, wanting to spend all your time on him.

he took your answer with a nod and closed his eyes, letting you work your magic.

you cleaned his face before applying a clay mask on his skin, gently rubbing it in, then you placed the sliced cucumbers on his eyes and set a timer on your phone.

while you waited for the timer to sound you began to massage his arms and shoulders, getting into a nice rhythm as he laid still beneath you. you were almost certain that he had fallen asleep.

you felt bad for not taking care of him earlier, but he was a stubborn guy. plus, you were making up for it now and after today you were quite certain that he’d take off days a little more frequently.

when the timer finally snapped you out of your autopiloted daze you stopped it and removed the cucumbers from his eyes. he blinked up at you, the sweetest and sleepiest look in his eyes, a little dazed as well.

“i love you,” he blurted out spontaneously, saying everything that he was feeling at that exact moment.

his words made you break out into a huge smile and you leaned down to peck his lips, making sure not to get his face mask on you. “i love you too,” you said fondly, beginning to gently wipe the mask off his face.

“i mean it, really,” jihoon said earnestly, “i know you might not feel it, or see it, often. but i appreciate you so much,” he said, grabbing your free hand and holding it tightly. “you really are everything to me, im sorry i don’t tell you as much as i should,” he said softly, his eyes showing a level of vulnerability that you didn’t see very often.

you finished wiping off his mask and placed your palms on both of his cheeks, taken aback by his words. “i know you mean it, baby, you’re busy and i get it,” you said truthfully, “but i wish you’d take time off sometimes…” you said slowly, knowing you wouldn’t offend him.

“i will, i promise,” he said quickly, wanting to make up for all the time he missed with you.

you smiled at his words, he was quick to please when it came to you. and this was one of the first times that you had expressed that he worked less.

“i’m glad,” you whispered, peppering his face with kisses. he pretended to hate it but you both know he loved it.

—

you ended the day on the couch in your living room. cuddled up with jihoon while you watched a new movie and ate junk food together. (after you convinced him to have a cheat day)

the end credits of the movie started rolling and you looked over at your boyfriend who was already looking at you.

“how was today? did i do good?” you asked. you knew he wouldn’t be mad at you for keeping him home but there was still always that little voice in your head that made you overthink sometimes.

“you made me feel like a princess.” he laughed, but it really was the truth.

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sister

Chapter 3 | Lunch Break

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

It was a week before Jinx stepped foot in the lab again. Immediately she was back to her normal, hyper energetic self.

Excitedly telling you when she got to the apartment, all about what she and the two scientists have been up to. It was only after she left that you realized her notebook and lunch sitting on the counter.

You sighed as you picked it up on your way out the door. You didn’t have time to run it to her before work so during your lunch break it was. Good thing you didn’t have any major plans for it.

You had your sandwich in your hand as you walked down the streets. You ate it as you walked. You were finished before you were even halfway to the building Jinx ran to everyday.

You stood in front of it for a moment. It was big and it was shining from how clean it was.

You looked down at your own clothes. A black vest that had been so ripped and tattered when you found it, you simply cropped it for convenience as a shirt. Torn jeans that were frayed at the ends because they were too long and are too big. Straps around your waist holding multiple items including your water bottle and multiple tools you used in the shop. Big, chunky boots that were only held together with straps that wrapped around the bottoms and then wound through the holes meant for shoe laces. You were covered in grease.

You sighed and shrugged to yourself. Nothing you could do about it.

You pushed open the doors.

“Hello,” you said as you made the conscious choice not to lean on the counter.

The secretary at the counter looked up. Her eyes dragged over you. Her lips clamped together as a not subtle at all look of judgement came over her face.

“I’m here to drop something off for Jinx, Jayce Talise and Viktor’s assistant,” you said with a sharp smile.

She exhaled, a small noise of displeasure coming out with it. “It’s up the stairs on the third floor, take a left, last door at the end of the hall.”

Just as she finished talking there was a ding of an elevator. You looked over and then brought your gaze back to her, unamused.

“The elevator is for employee use only.”

“Uh-huh.”

You walked up the stairs regardless, no matter how belittled it made you feel. This was going to be a long lunch break, that wasn’t even a break.

Halfway up the first set of stairs your leg began to pulse. You winced as your leg jerks up on its own accord. One hand goes to the wall and the other massages around scar tissue.

You whisper a curse to yourself.

You let your body fall and turn so you fall on your ass, not your ribs. You bring your leg in close. Your head rests on your knee.

You don’t have time for this.

You need to get back to work in forty and it took fifteen to get here without your leg acting up.

You bang your head against your knee creating a new pain to focus on. “Fucking—“ bang “damn—“ bang “it!” bang

You knee hurts now. Your head? It’s hard. More fine that what you were going for.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice, on the higher almost nasally side, said from behind you, “do you require assistance?”

You look back to see a yordle. He was wearing a deep blue outfit that contrasted light blue eyes sat atop a peach colored nose. He had a white mustache that curled upward and obscured his lips. The white spread all across his face and turned orange near the top of his head. He looked vaguely familiar.

Something rang in your head that this man was important.

“I just need to sit for a moment,” you decided on saying, not wanting to admit any defeat or show any weakness but also not wanting to offend this man.

“Ah,” he said as he jumped a couple steps to where you were and plopped himself next to you.

There were a couple moments of silence. The man looked ahead though he was no doubt aware of your suspicious gaze on him.

Where had you seen this face before?

“You don’t look like anyone I’ve seen in here before,” he said. He turned those stark blue eyes to you. “May I inquire as to why you’re here?”

You raised the leather bag you’d been carrying covered in buckles and zippers. “My sister forgot some things.”

“So your sister works here? Who is she?” he asked. “I may be able to point you there in a faster direction.”

You looked him up and down. Searching for some give to any ill intent but no, this man was a completely open book, open in his curiosity and earnesty.

“Jinx.”

“Oh, I see the family resemblance now!” the man said. “What a fine young woman that Jinx is. If you’re done sitting for the moment, I will be more than happy to let you use my badge for the elevator ride up. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I—“ you cut yourself off.

This man was being nice to you. He knew Jinx. He saw her in a good light. He could get your tentative trust for this moment in time.

“I suppose, if it’s no hassle for you.”

“Oh, none at all,” he said as he sprung to his feet. He started jumping up the stairs. “I have no where so important to be that I can’t spare a moment.”

You hauled yourself up. You grimaced for a moment, a sting shooting up your leg, but you began to follow him as he rattled on.

One hand was against the wall for balance and the other slowly raised to your face.

Family resemblance.

The dark blue, purple hair you had was different to Jinx’s light blue but like that of your mother’s. People always said all three of you looked like her.

All three, you, Powder, and Violet. It was a joke that your father wasn’t actually related to any of you but you could see it in Jinx’s creativity, her beautiful brain. You saw it in Vi’s brashness.

Vi. Janna, you missed Violet.

“Ah, here we are!” the yordle said. “Now where did that thing go?”

He patted himself down and stuck one hands in his pockets until he pulled out a badge. It had his picture on it and you snuck a glance at his name.

Cecil B. Heimerdinger

Your heart dropped to your stomach. He was a member of the council. Not even a member. He was the head of the council.

He pressed the badge to the reader, standing on the tips of his toes as he did.

“Floor level three,” he said. “You just take a left and it’ll be the last door at the end of the hall; two big doors. It’s hard to miss. Tell Ms. Jinx, Mr. Talise, and Viktor I send my regards. Good day you!”

He finished with a flourish of his hand, almost like a half bow as the door dinged open.

“Thank you, sir,” you said but he was already gone, skittering back to the staircase.

What an odd man.

You leaned back against the wall and shifted your weight to your left leg. It took all of ten seconds for you to get to the third floor this way.

You walked out and immediately took a left. There, at the end of the hall, was a pair of large double doors, impossible to miss.

You knocked on them.

A man, tall, brawny, light brown skin and dark brown hair answered the door. Piltover’s pretty boy.

“May I help you?”

Despite your fatigued state you managed to easily slip beneath the man’s arm as you dug in your bag. Immediately you honed in on your sister. You tossed a brown bag onto the table in front of her.

“Your lunch,” you tossed the book aiming for her lap but she immediately caught it before it could land, “and your notes.”

“So that’s where they went,” Jinx said.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Jinx, seeing your weight heavily on one side, grabbed the back of the empty chair behind her and rolled it towards you. You sat, hands on your knees as you hunched.

“That’s where they stayed.”

“This is my sister,” Jinx said as she dug into her lunch bag.

You raised a hand and waved. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Jayce said weakly.

Your hand immediately went to your temples.

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s accented voice asked.

“They get like this sometimes,” Jinx said. “A couple years ago there was. . . a thing that happened. It certainly happened,” she laughed to calm her nerves as she thought back. “Anyway, it happened and now sometimes their leg hurts.”

You slapped the back of her head with the back of your hand. She knew better than to say that to just anyone. That is dangerous information to give out.

“Ow!”

“Now your head hurts,” you told her.

Viktor’s lip quirked up. He reached into a drawer to hide it though. There was the sound of rummaging before he produced a bottle. Inside rattled pills. He popped the lid and poured one out.

“Try these,” he said as he placed the pill in your hand and handed you the now closed bottle.

He made an assumption, a correct one, that you’d like to look over the ingredient list before taking it from him. Which was fair, knowing you both were from the Undercity.

You after a moment you downed the pill and moved to hand him the bottle.

“Keep it,” he said. “It’s just over the counter. They don’t work for me anymore. While we’re at it, haul yourself a taxi.”

He flipped a coin that Jinx caught instead of you.

“I don’t need charity.”

“Not charity. It’s payment, great minds can’t go hungry, can they?”

“He’s right,” Jinx said through a mouthful. “I was gonna get really pissy if I didn’t eat soon.”

She shoved the coin in your hand.

Jayce watched, befuddled and confused, not able to understand the solidarity between Undercity kids.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Angstober (day 11)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Wake up

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Bucky is losing it; mentions of panic attacks; angsty angst

Angstober Masterlist

Bucky hasn’t had trouble sleeping for about two years now. That’s about how long you’ve been together. That’s about how long you’ve been sleeping in the same bed as him every night.

It’s been 25 months since you’ve gotten together, but in truth, the sharp edges of his nightmares began to dull long before that - all because of you.

You’ve always been a dependable member of this team. Skilled, efficient, and wholeheartedly committed to your work. Yet, what you’ve done for Bucky and what you did every day since then and still do to this day, outshines all of those qualities.

You’ve shown him patience - not the suffocating kind that hovers or pities, but a quiet, resolute belief in his strength. You saw something in him when he couldn’t do it himself. Little by little, day by day, night by night; you made him believe that he still had something to fight for, something to live for, and that there is a place for him in a world he wasn’t meant to see.

Your presence, your smile, your voice; all the little things that identify you - it all gifted him the reprieve of the guilt he was slowly drowning in. And you pulled him out of the water, teaching him how to crave the air that was lost, breath by breath.

He knows he shouldn’t rely on anyone with an amount so heavy, it would terrify anyone else. It might be dangerous. But he needs you. It’s that simple, really. You’re the only thing keeping him afloat, despite how long you’ve been helping him remember independence. He doesn’t want independence. He wants you. Because he won’t ever find as much comfort in himself as he finds in you.

So, this is a feeling he isn’t quite used to anymore.

Laying in bed, eyes unblinkingly staring at the ceiling in the dark, eyelids burning in exhaustion but not able to shut. His body aches for rest, but his mind won’t allow it.

He inhales slowly, forcing the breath deep into his lungs, following the breathing techniques you taught him in those early weeks; when you helped him through his panic attacks. He hasn’t had one in a long time, but he recognizes the signs all too well.

And it traps the racing thoughts in his mind.

Instinctively, his arms around you tighten. Your slumbering form lay peacefully and wam atop his chest and he lets it ground him. He lets it - lets you - tether him to the reality his spiraling mind so desperately needs.

His muscles are tense as he clings to you, seeking stability in the steady rise and fall of your breathing against him.

He exhales slowly, a deep sigh that he feels ripple through his entire body.

He put so much effort into convincing himself it was nothing. Just harmless smoke. It didn’t have to mean anything, anything barbaric. But that’s what Hydra is known for. Wickedness, Inhumanity, Evilness - the list can only go on.

That smoke was invisible. And Hydra loves to play invisible. Hiding in the underground and pretending they don’t exist.

Once again, Bucky’s mind, cruel and ruthless, drags him back to the mission earlier that morning. Anxiety claws at his resolve and he takes in another breath almost aggressively. It’s as if his subconscious is trying to prove to himself that this wasn’t just some non-toxic mist you had been exposed to for mere minutes on end.

Steve’s voice crackles over the coms, talking about something important no doubt, but Bucky’s attention is locked elsewhere. His senses are attuned to just one thing - your breathing. Your comms are on and Bucky knows about which corridors you are walking through to retrieve a file for Fury.

You’re not supposed to engage in combat, unless perhaps on the way out but the path should be cleared. So, then why are your breaths coming out faster and far from the rhythm he loves to listen to.

He waits a few seconds, his instincts flaring, trying to reason with himself. Trying to get him to stop worrying himself out of his mind. But the sound of your breathing doesn’t sit right with him, and the longer he listens, the more uneasy he becomes.

Carefully, he calls out your name, ignoring whatever Steve might still be saying on the other end. There is a pause - he clearly interrupted the captain - and then your voice comes through, soft and reassuring. You know how much he gets concerned for you, sometimes just needing to hear your voice in confirmation everything is fine.

“How far are you?” he asks, voice a little tighter than he’d like. Steve hasn’t picked up on where he got interrupted. He gets it too.

“Almost there. Just down the hall,” you reply, though there is a slight hesitation, a pause, another unsteady breath. It’s subtle, but Bucky picks it up, brows furrowing. You’re contemplating something, weighing your words and his steps begin to falter, own breathing getting even heavier.

“There is something odd, though.”

His heart squeezes and he tries to swallow that lump in his throat, but it remains stuck, halfway blocking the way for air inside his body.

“What is it?” His response is immediate, urgent. “Do you need backup? Want me to come over? I’ll be on my way-”

He tried so hard to sound casual but the laugh coloring the tone of your next words tells him he wasn’t at all subtle in his feelings.

“No need, Buck. I got it. The air just feels a little weird here, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Do you have trouble breathing?” So far underground, it’s almost to be expected that the air is different, but he needs to know more, craves to ask a thousand more questions but he refrains himself. You can handle yourself. You don’t always need him to breathe down your neck, hover over you like the miserable man he is.

“I can breathe just fine, Buck,” you sweetly soothe again, letting him take the time he needs to gather his thoughts around your well-being.

He exhales, the tightness in his chest easing up a little bit which spreads awareness that his whole team just heard his ridiculous worries over the shared coms. Heat creeps up his neck and he cringes inwardly. Though he wouldn’t change a thing and he sure as hell will check in on you again when the nerves rise once more. And they will.

It was only thanks to Tony’s tech that Bucky even found out what had happened - that you had walked straight through the invisible smoke, breathing it in the whole time and letting it enter your body with every gulp of air.

The surveillance had picked up traces of the strange substance, the air you had said felt weird. But you hadn’t seen the smoke. None of you had. And now, Bucky feels like he’s losing his grip.

He hates this helplessness, this stifling feeling that there is nothing he can do but watch and wait. Watch you, observe your every movement, listen to your breathing, analyze your body language, trying to decipher if something is off. Waiting for the shoe to drop.

You had told him countless times that you feel fine, that nothing feels different and you don’t like to see him this worried, but his mind loves to go to cruel places. And his concern for you is too extreme, running so deep, clinging so tight, that the need for you to feel okay almost hurts him physically.

Tony and Bruce are running tests, trying to figure out what the hell that smoke even was and how harmless it really is. But the waiting is torturous. The tick of every second feel like stabs to his heart. Bucky doesn’t trust harmless, not after everything he’s seen. Not after everything he’s lost. And he won’t put you on that list. Because if he had to, he’d add himself right after. He lost himself once and he will again if you’re no longer with him, falling to much greater demons than ever before.

And so, he watches. It’s all he can do. He watches you like a hawk, nerves fraying and senses tumbling, torn between the need to protect you and the agonizing reality that, for now, he’s powerless to act. His mind races with worst-case scenarios, his imagination conjuring all the ways this invisible thread could hurt you. And yet, there is nothing he can do - nothing but hope that Tony and Bruce figure it out before it’s too late.

The waiting feels like it’s driving him mad.

Bucky waits till sunrise, the first light of the day bleeding through the thick curtains. He hasn’t even noticed it had gone brighter outside, only acknowledging it when your skin begins to glow under it, making you look like an angel sent from heaven.

He hadn’t slept, not even for a moment, his eyes not leaving your peaceful body. Every sound you made, every small shift of your body as you slept, every breath you took, he noticed. He spent hours, gently running his hands over you, trailing his fingers over the familiar contours of your form, pressing his lips so softly against the parts of you he could reach without disturbing you.

At some point; Bucky carefully, reluctantly, slips away from beneath you, and quietly into the bathroom. The cold splash of water on his face stings, but it does nothing to shake the weariness clinging to him.

The man in the mirror staring back at him is hardly recognizable to him. Dark circles shadow his eyes, deep and heavy, his gaze dull and hollow, lacking the fire you ignite in him. When he doesn’t normally sink into a pit of worry. His brows sag with the weight of exhaustion, his expression almost foreign in its desperation.

You won’t be happy when you wake up. He can basically hear you chastise him in his head and he really wants to smile at the thought but since no other thought this night had been a decent one, he doesn’t know how at the moment.

Bucky’s hands grip the edges of the sink, tightening, until he might have been worried about breaking the porcelain if that thought wasn’t so irrelevant to him right now. A long and heavy exhale leaves his chest, his head hanging low and eyes squeezed shut. He forced himself to press his lips together, not to let out a sound that would perhaps wake you up.

He tries to be in control of the rising wave of frustration and utter helplessness that surges within him, pushing it down as his chest constricts.

It takes a few more minutes before he feels composed enough to return back to you. He releases his grip on the sink, hands flexing before letting both, flesh and metal fall back to his sides. With a last glance in the mirror, he walks out of the door.

The sight of you, still peacefully asleep in the exact position he left you, quiets his mind just enough for at least a small moment. With silent steps, he approaches you, slipping carefully back into bed without making a sound. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your body again, drawing you close, pressing you against his chest, feeling your warmth.

You don’t stir as Bucky settles in, pushing his nose into your neck, closing his eyes, and inhaling deeply - a breath that is filled with your sweet scent.

Bucky isn’t sure how much time slips by as he keeps lying there with you, watching you, breathing you in. But when midday rolls around and you haven’t stirred yet, he decides to wake you up. He might get lucky, being able to bath with you and having you curled up on his lap during a nice breakfast afterward. He craves your voice. He needs to hear you, needs to be soothed by the sweet sound of it, telling him you’re okay and you love him. Perhaps even telling him some silly story about how Sam embarrassed himself in front of you girls. That happens more often than not.

He wants to float in the calm of your presence, to be lost in the way you reassure him, relaxed in the rhythm of your words, comforted in the warmth of your arms.

So he starts with the gentlest of touches, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck, trailing kisses along your skin. He moves to your shoulders slowly, taking his time as if each kiss carries the unspoken weight of all he’s been holding back. When he reaches your cheek, he whispers, soft and low, just for you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, his lips close to your ear, letting the heat of his breath coax you from sleep. “Sweetheart, time to wake up.”

He continues his kisses, lingering, tender, while his body shifts slightly as he props himself up on one elbow, hovering above you just enough to reach more of your skin. His hand moves to brush your hair gently out of your face, his thumb stroking your temple. “Y/n.”

You don’t react, so he continues trailing his kisses over your shoulder, along your arm and back up again, nibbling on your skin.

Bucky is no patient man, but he always has been with you. However, it never takes this long to wake you up. It comes with being an Avenger, always alert, even in your sleep, and usually, the first few touches of his lips are enough to coax you into consciousness.

But you keep lying beneath him, without moving a single muscle, chest rising and falling with every steady breath and tension builds in his middle.

His tone drops, voice louder, getting more urgent. “Doll,” he says, hand cradling your face, gently turning it toward him so he can see you clearly, hoping for even the slightest response. “Come on, baby, wake up. Come back to me.”

He searches for any sign, any flicker of consciousness in your expression, but there is nothing. You look peaceful, serene even, as if you’re merely lost in a deep, calm sleep. There’s no sign of distress, no discomfort, but that only worsens the hollow dread forming in the pit of his gut. Something is wrong. He can feel it. He knows

His pulse quickens, heart pounding violently as fear takes root. His hands, so tender before, now move with desperate urgency. He shakes your shoulders, lightly at first, hoping to watch you open your eyes and greet him with that sweet smile upon seeing him, the one that is so good at melting away his worries.

You don’t stir. You don’t do anything.

“Y/n! Wake up!” he pleads again, voice cracking, panic taking hold of his voice and settling in his bones. His breathing lost any sign of rhythm since the last day but it grows shallow now, ragged, horror rushing up his throat, alarm ringing in his ears.

He is leaning over you, shaking you with more force, more insistence. Leaning closer and pressing his lips to your forehead in an almost rough kiss, he calls your name again, voice strained and sounding foreign to him.

“Show me those beautiful eyes, baby, come on,”Bucky pleads desperately, trembling hands holding your face, shaking it, just like your shoulders, your arms. But the only movements your body does are the ones caused by his touch, your body still limp beneath him, eyes closed, breaths deep.

“Don’t do this to me, baby, please. You don’t get to do this.” His voice breaks, the words barely making it past the lump in his throat. “Come on!“

But there is nothing. No flutter of your eyelids, no soft sound from your lips. Just silence. The kind that makes his blood run cold, terror crawling under his skin, like he’s never felt before. “Wake up!” He is shouting. Vehement, cracking under the weight of the fear flooding in his chest. It strips him bare, leaving him more powerless than he ever was before.

A sound rips through his body, dry and dreadful as it leaves his lips and he isn’t able to acknowledge the tears tracking down his face.

Without wasting another second, Bucky scrambles away from you, his body moving on sheer instinct, his mind only consisting in utter panic. He shoves the blanket off in one harsh movement, throwing it to the side and scooping your limp form into his arms. His heart is pounding so vigorously, it’s as if it has a life of its own, threatening to tear right out of his chest.

The moment you are secured in his arms, he runs. His legs feel weak, but he pushes forward, every step fueled by the thought that something is wrong. Terribly wrong. He crashes through the door, protecting your body with his. His voice echoes down the hall, frantic and full of a terror he’s never known as he yells.

Bucky should have known better.

Hydra doesn’t deal with harmless. He knows that better than anyone.

But even with all the horrors of his past, all the things he’s lost while under their control, nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing could have ever come close to the agony of the very possibility that he might lose you. Lose you to them. Lose you because of them.

You had been the one to help him to the light. You were his light. You gave him a reason there is something worth holding onto. Your love for him. His love for you. But that very darkness that Hydra plunged him into, now came sneaking back to take the one thing that matters most. The one thing he would die for. The one thing he would die without.

He’s running but it feels like he is falling. Endlessly. Into a void of despair and all he can do is scream into the emptiness, hoping somehow he can pull you back before it’s too late.

He doesn’t even know who he’s calling for. Steve perhaps. Bruce. Tony. It doesn’t matter. It won’t ever matter again. Because if there is no you, then there is nothing worth remembering anymore.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Bruce Wayne. 2

.⋆｡Batman’s Kryptonite｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Bruce works too hard but unluckily for him, you’re more stubborn than he is

Warnings: reader can be sunburnt, fluff, mentions of showering together, workaholic Bruce

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

Bruce was nothing if not a hard worker. He continuously worked himself to the bone to keep everything afloat and for that, you really did admire him. He used his privilege to help so many people both in his day job and his night job but god did you find it hard to spend time with him.

His brain seemed fixated on his goals, even in the quiet moments where there was nothing to do. Nothing ever got his full attention, not even you, his loving girlfriend.

“How long has he been down here?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you observed Bruce who was currently hunched over his new project, blue eyes firmly fixated on the delicate wiring. Alfred sighed heavily through his nose.

“Since the moment he returned from the airport after dropping you off.” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“That-“ You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down. “I knew a week long girl’s trip was too good to be true. I’ll take care of this, take a couple days off.” The older man nodded and left the cave with a fatherly squeeze to your shoulder.

As soon as you heard the elevator doors shut, you shed the thick cardigan and long sleeve shirt you were wearing, leaving you just in leggings (that Bruce absolutely went crazy for) and a thin undershirt that did little to disguise the colour of your bra. Your steps were light but not completely silent, it would do you no good to sneak up on the Dark Knight.

Even centimetres away, you could feel the tension in Bruce’s muscles, like he was wound up for a fight. He jumped only slightly as you laid your hands on his shoulder blades but he quickly eased into your tough, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Back early?”

“Actually, I’m right on time.” His hands faltered and you knew that his dark brows were pulled up like they always did when he was coming out of a work-related trance. The chair turned yet your hands never left his skin, now resting on his strong chest as he looked up at you. His pupils dilated, slowly overtaking the stunning blue of his irises as he took in your attire.

“Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “I have the sunburn to prove it.” He grunted, obviously not quite believing you, or he just didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t obeyed your suggestion of taking some time off when you were gone. 

“You were supposed to come back on the fifth.” Bruce tried to argue as his eyes flicked back to his work. You knew that look, it was his ‘I want to end this conversation so I can get back to work’ but you knew exactly what to do to distract him.

“It is the fifth, my love. Maybe you need to take a break. How about coming upstairs with me and we’ll have a nice hot shower?” Your touch slowly migrated up his chest to his jaw and Bruce’s eyelids fluttered under the attention. But he just as quickly tensed up again, catching onto your game.

“Sorry sweets, I have work to do.” He attempted to turn his chair back around but you stepped between his spread legs, pinning him to the spot with your body. 

Your bottom lip turned out into a truly award winning pout and you sniffed. “But I missed you baby, I just want to spend some time with you.” You could actually see his will beginning to crumble. One more step.

Tears filled your eyes. “Do you not want to spend time with me?” 

He knew that they were crocodile tears but they tugged at the mass of guilt in his chest anyway. “Do not. I said no. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work every time. Fuck- fine.” Immediately, your tears disappeared and you beamed at him.

“Great! Maybe I’ll also show you the new bikinis I got on the trip.” Bruce groaned and let you pull him to his feet, abandoning his half-finished work.

“You are a cruel woman.” He complained as you dragged him to the cave’s exit. You looked back at your boyfriend with a wink.

“I just know Batman's kryptonite.” You teased and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Bruce wholeheartedly agreed. You definitely knew how to get him to fold.

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[garciaasfluffypen]

the solace in the sun

pairing: wanda maximoff x f!reader word count: 1.8k warnings: deals with grief of losing family, wanda is whipped for you but is in denial, i'm not sure how i feel about the ending but i didn't know how to keep it going so

summer was in full swing, and boy was new york feeling it. 

you had found yourself spending more time up in the rooftop garden, unsure of how your brain decided to find solace in the plants. you never had a green thumb. if anything, it was black. never being able to properly take care of plants at all, it was something you had just steered away from. you had hoped someday you’d overcome it, but considering you somehow managed to kill a stick of bamboo, being a plant parent was very low on your list. the heat didn’t seem to be bothering the plants that adorned the garden, thankfully. the sun was hitting just right and gave a perfect shine in the little corner you had found to relax in your downtime. 

your fingers daintly trailed along the leaves of a giant monstera plant that hung down next to you, another plant behind you brushing your shoulder as you adjusted in the lounge chair pepper set up here. the sounds of the city floated around you, lulling you into a sense of peace. moments like this were  far and few between since joining the avengers- they always seemed to want to be doing things with you. as much as you loved your new found family, you did prefer to have moments to yourself. the stark difference between you and your avengers-sona was partly how you kept yourself sane. your anger at the world could come out when you were in your hiena suit. the anger at almost losing your parents along with the rest of your cousins and aunts and uncles loomed over your head like a dark storm cloud as you fought alongside your counterparts, using that to fuel you. you always found yourself pretty drained when you’d get back to the tower, just wanting to curl up somewhere quiet and decompress. thor had gotten into the habit of dragging you out at least once a week, and almost all of those occurrences had been after a big fight. 

except today. 

natasha, bless her soul, had somehow distracted thor long enough for you to slip away, which was how you found yourself up on the rooftop. it was almost like the sun was recharging you. you had heard rumors of a girl who was recharged by the sun in national city, but hadn’t gone to search for her yet. your energy was slowly coming back, and you found the solace of the rooftop garden calming. it gave you time to think about everything, about how you needed to call your babica this week to update her on everything going on. how you needed to remind your sister to look for your mother’s secret family recipe. you had been longing for a taste of her gołąbki but could never get it just right. you missed your mother’s cooking dearly. it was one of the best memories you had of her- cooking for family gatherings with her and your sister, watching your step-brothers mess around on mario kart while the cookies were in the oven. leaving your immediate family after the death of your parents was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. but the money you got from the city of new york was worth only seeing them twice a year if it meant you could help keep them afloat. after moving your sister and brothers into your grandparents house, tony had showed up with an offer only a fool would have turned down. you had accepted, only on the terms that your babica got a quarter of your yearly pay deposited in her bank account every year. you never outright told her that it was you who was giving her the money, but as long as you never said anything to her face she wouldn’t refuse it. 

the door to the garden opened and you looked up to see wanda, stress ball in her hand as she rounded the corner to where you were sitting. 

“oh i’m sorry,” her slovakian accent was heavier than normal- something that only seemed to happen when things reminded her of home. “i didn’t know you were up here.”

you smiled at her. “no worries, i was just sunbasking. come, there’s another seat over here. let me grab it for you.” 

you had purposely put two chairs on the monthly amazon list for this exact scenario. you were secretly hoping that wanda would start trying to seek you out more, mainly because you were hoping she’d become your friend. you had longed for strong female friendships your whole life, and you were finally starting to find them during your time here. natasha and maria were great for you, and you knew that adding wanda to the mix would be the perfect way to grow your comradery. knowing wanda had a very similar situation to you in regards to losing almost everything before coming here, you knew you had at least that in common. it hopefully wouldn’t be hard to find other things you had in common with the red head. 

“feel free to move it wherever, i just like this spot for the sun.” you adjusted the sunglasses that adorned your face. 

“it’s quite nice up here.” 

“i come up here sometimes to get away from everyone. it’s… how do you say pocieszenie in english?” 

wanda chuckled. “i’m glad i’m not the only one who trips up over my english.” 

“it’s hard to remember the english words sometimes, but natasha has been helpful with making sure that i understand what i’m speaking about.” you smiled fondly. “have you been settling in okay?” 

“mostly,” wanda nodded. “today was hard.” 

wanda had started to go through phases, it seemed, where the grief of losing pietro was more than she could handle. today was one of those days. the anger at fate for ripping her apart from the one thing that kept her tethered and sane, the anger at the world for letting everything happen the way it did… it was overwhelming to say the least. it was probably why wanda almost exploded earlier before tony pulled her back, sending her back to the compound about two hours before everyone else came back to “blow off some goddamned steam, maximoff”. wanda had to roll her eyes at that, knowing all too well today was not the day she would be blowing off steam. she had tried to work out when she got back, but it wasn’t the same without natasha or maria being there with her. she had hid in her room at that point, trying to find comfort in her old sitcoms that J.A.R.V.I.S was able to find for her. eventually, she had given up and decided to walk around. 

the walk was nice, until it wasn’t. the team had come back and everything was loud again. it was loud, everyone was running around and it had become a bit too much to handle. so wanda found herself climbing the stairs to the roof, where she knew she could escape to be alone. at least, until she realized you had found this spot too. she was almost mesmerized by you. you were everything she wanted to be. strong, independent, funny… the complete opposite of her. she was nowhere near that, she could barely make it through some days without crying out for her family. the sounds of the bombs going off reverberated through her mind in the early hours of the morning as she lay alone, knowing she was the last of the maximoffs to survive. 

from what she heard, you were similar. having lost a majority of your family a few years prior, you knew a lot of what she was going through. or at least, she hoped you did. she wanted someone she could be with who wouldn’t judge her for the nightmares that plagued her at night. she wanted someone who understood how the days could be so easy but then the next one could be so hard. understand that sometimes she just needed to sit in silence and crochet, something she and her mom did when she was younger- before everything happened. before her life turned upside down and she found herself in a different continent surrounded by different people who didn’t understand her. 

except for you. 

you two understood each other, to an extent. there was stuff neither of you knew about the other, sure, but you knew enough to know that sometimes you just needed each other's company. wanda appreciated it a lot, especially when she realized pepper put her room close to yours. she wasn’t sure what it was, but something drew her to you. maybe it was the fact you reminded her so much of home, of how comfort truly felt. but that’s definitely how friends felt about other friends, right?

“i get it.” you started, “i still feel the anger and sadness every single goddamned day. thinking of what i could change to make it better. for them to be here. i’d do anything to be with my babica and braćmi instead of here, thousands of kilometers away from them watching them grow up through pictures. but i’m here defending their honor. i’m doing this for them. because they’d want me to fight, even if it meant being away for so long.” 

“it’s so hard.” 

“co się stało, to się nie odstanie,” you looked to wanda. “you can only work to change your future. to be a better person and help other families have what we can’t.” a small smile graced your lips. “it’s hard work, but it’s worth it.” 

“yeah, it is.” wanda nodded. “how do you do it?”

you shrugged. “i don’t.”

“i don’t follow.” 

“i take it day by day. i can only control what’s happening now. not the past, not the future. but now. on the days that it’s hard, i just deal with it. going out and fighting helps, because it reminds me why i’m here and not at home. but every day won’t be the same.” you chuckle. “thor doesn’t seem to understand that.” 

wanda cracked a smile. “he can be quite a lot.” 

“you’ve got that right. i like the man, i do, but dear gods can he drink.” 

“it might be a asgardian thing.” the ginger chuckled. “do you think tony would notice if we took some beer?”

“probably not.” you got a glint in your eye. “wanna go steal some top shelf beer?” 

“only if we can watch movies and order in chinese.” 

“of but of course. the only way to spend a thursday night.” 

with a smile, the two of you got up and made your way inside, wanda following closely behind you. your hand joined with hers, sending a volt of electricity up your arm. out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw wanda’s eyes widen.

maybe she did feel the same way you did.

maybe.

translations co się stało, to się nie odstanie- what happened can't unhappen

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ THAT'S THE SPIRIT! — feat. tengen + wives event masterlist.

synopsis. they might be gone from this world, but they'll never leave your heart. or your side. or you alone. they loved you in life, and now they have a whole afterlife to spend haunting you. warnings. death. ghosts. themes of grief & mourning. notes. requested by anon! kinda angsty ngl. gn!reader. 1.8k words. i love hinatsuru, makio, and suma so much. their husband's okay i guess.

When you woke, it was to a dull throbbing in the back of your head, and swollen eyes from a night spent crying yourself to sleep. The time was well past midday if the sun peeking through the crack in their curtain told you anything, but your body still stung with exhaustion. These days, no matter how long you slept, the heavy ache in your arms and legs never seemed to ease.

A groan slipped through your lips, as you pushed your body into a sitting position against the pillows. Under your palms, the bed felt cold. You never quite got used to the sensation, even after a whole month.

Day by day, you were told. Take it one day at a time. And you had tried to take the advice to heart, truly. Even as your late mornings lazing in bed turned into afternoons, and your efforts towards making food whittled away until you resorted to takeout only, you were surviving.

You would keep your head above the water, gulping in sweet lungfuls of air, even as the current pulled you down. You needed to keep afloat, no matter how much your chest burned with every breath.

Day by day, breath by breath.

It had been over a week since you had seen another living soul. Everyone had been quick to offer their comforts and shoulders to cry on, but you had only returned the sentiment with polite refusal. You couldn't bring yourself to face anyone; the funeral and the wake were draining enough.

The memorial service itself was a quiet affair, which you were grateful for. Only a select group were invited, limited only to immediate family and select friends who were close enough to feel the sting of their loss the most. And you, of course. It passed by in a blur of solemn words and well wishes for the next life, punctuated by sobs every few seconds.

There was a part of you that was thankful that you didn’t have to plan the event; a small, selfish part. It might have customary for the closest of the bereaved to organize the funeral proceedings, but the fog in your head meant you could hardly focus on the sound of your own voice, let alone putting together an entire ceremony.

It was Mitsuri who ended up taking your place and organizing everything you couldn't bring yourself to.

“Don’t worry about a thing, [Name].” Mitsuri had squeezed your hands, forcing a smile even as her eyes were glossy with tears. “We can handle everything. I know it’s hard for you right now, so just focus on yourself, okay?”

“Okay...” You mumbled, slightly dazed.

The daze didn't fade, even after days passed and your grief began to settle in like a parting gift. Sometimes it felt distant and unreal, as if you could still stretch your arm out and find a warm body on the opposite side of your bed; others, it felt like it was the only thing left in your mind, filling up the cracks that the loves of your life had left behind.

Still, you had to keep surviving, if not for your own sake, for your beloved spouses who could no longer survive with you.

Day by day. You could make it through one more day.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed. Your vision was filled with stars as you stood, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton. You gritted your teeth and ignored it, sliding the bedroom door shut behind you.

The cold, weightless feeling of arms sliding around your waist should have been a surprise. It wasn't.

“What's got you so gloomy today, huh?” The voice was whispered right into your ear, a low hum that brushed up against your skin.

You leaned your head back, resting it on the chest of the person hugging you from behind. The sensation was strange, both solid and slightly incorporeal at the same time. Even so, there was something familiar about the chuckle that sounded afterwards.

“Tengen...” You sighed, closing your eyes. Perhaps you could ignore the distinct lack of a heartbeat near your ear; his voice sounded alive enough to compensate. “You weren't there when I woke.”

“Aw... missed me, did you?” You heard the smile in his voice, the light note of teasing that used to always get on your nerves. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, lingering there for a moment.

“I always miss you...” You said shakily, gripping the arms still circled around your waist. There was a hollow desperation in the way your nails dug into his skin, a feverish need to touch him, bring him closer, prove that he's really there.

“Don't worry.” Another kiss, this time to your cheek. “You can't get rid of us that easily.”

The faint pressure against your skin was cold enough to make you shiver, but you didn't mind. His touches could feel like ice for all you cared, as long as he was still touching you.

You still couldn't understand why it was that he was able to touch you when as far as you were aware, he was completely intangible and imperceptible to the rest of the living world, but you had shoved the question to the furthest corner of your mind.

Instead you embraced the opportunity, savouring his touch as long as you were allowed it.

Even so, it wasn't easy to adapt to your new way of living.

The first few days after the news was delivered were the hardest, when you spent hours alone in your house, until a friend or acquaintance stopped by to offer their condolences. They never seemed to mind that you didn't speak much, but eventually the visits stopped coming.

When the burial came, that was when you spoke the most. You were given a chance to give a speech, and took it graciously, as much as the words clawed at your throat.

The group was quiet afterwards, save for the odd sniffle. Mitsuri looked like she was seconds away from bawling, but she was holding herself together remarkably well. “A-Ahem. Thank for those… touching words. I-I know they meant a lot to you.”

“They did.” Your eyes drifted to the headstones, arranged right next to each other just like they would have wanted.

Tengen Uzui. Beloved husband.

Makio Uzui. Beloved wife.

Suma Uzui. Beloved wife.

Hinatsuru Uzui. Beloved wife.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or sob at the simple words etched across the stone. There wasn’t enough room on the headstones to truly tell how important they were. Not even your words—as close as they brought the group to tears—were enough.

You didn’t mention the way Tengen would instinctively reach for you in the mornings before he was fully awake, never settled until he made sure all of his spouses were safely at his side; nor did you mention that Hinatsuru’s sharp eyes could spot a gloomy mood from a mile away, always ready for comfort. And you didn't certainly mention Makio's worry for your wellbeing hidden behind her occasionally brash words, or how Suma's constant tears were only the result of the sheer amount of love she held for her spouses.

You didn't mention how much you adored them with every heartbeat and every breath, how waking up in the morning in an ice-cold bed was another stark and cruel reminder that you were alone.

“We're going to leave now.” Mitsuri squeezed your shoulder gently. “Take as long as you need.”

You didn't say another word, only numbly staring at the gravestones and imagining what yours would look like, propped up next to the four. Who would speak at your funeral? You didn't have anyone left to offer touching words, apart from Mitsuri perhaps.

In between your musings, you heard it. A loud, pained cry, like the sound of a wounded deer.

“Waaah! [Name]’s speech was so sweet!”

“Shut up, Suma! Let them be!”

You could have sobbed at the sound. Your head swung back, to see your four spouses crowded some distance away, awkwardly huddled by a cluster of gravestones.

They looked exactly like they did the last time you saw them, faces etched with wide smiles, soft eyes, and falling tears—the latter being courtesy of Suma.

“Are you done here, love?” Tengen asked with a soft smile. You stared at him as if in a daze, afraid to blink in case his image disappeared before your closed eyes.

Cautiously, you stepped forward once, then twice. Step by step, you closed the gap between, reaching out a shaky hand to brush your palm along his face. Under your thumb, his skin was cold, staticky, but real.

And all of a sudden it became all too much, and you were letting out a low cry and falling into his ready arms. The wives all surrounded you, offering soft touches, gentle words, and comforts. For that moment, you could almost believe that they'd never left at all.

It was hard to tell if they were even fully aware of their ghostly state. They had all heard your speech at the burial, but the moment you brought up the subject you were met with... odd reactions.

“Dead? Do you want us to be dead?” Makio scoffed. She had your head in her lap, absently patting your hair like you were a cat.

“I don't wanna be dead.” Suma's eyes turned glossy, and Hinatsuru was quick to pull her into an embrace.

“I don't think that's something we need to worry about.” Tengen said gently, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “We're here, we're happy to be here with you... that's all we need to focus on, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered back, letting your eyes flutter shut. You took his words to heart; since then you didn't dwell on why, only fixing your attention on the four people you loved the most. Not even death could pull them from your side.

“[Name]! We've been waiting for you!”

“Give them a moment, Makio!”

“Are you alright, [Name]...?”

And yet, even with Tengen's arms around your waist, and the sound of your wives calling you from the kitchen, there was a hollowness that you tried desperately to ignore.

Hinatsuru's face peeked out from the corner, a look of concern washing over it at your shaking form still held in Tengen's arms. Your husband and wife exchanged a look, before Tengen let go of you and stepped back, allowing Hinatsuru to step forward.

Her hand moved to your cheek, lightly brushing your jaw with the pad of her thumb. “What’s with that look… Aren’t you happy to spend the day with us?”

You leaned into her hand, your skin burning for the touch. Against your cheek, her fingers were as chilling as Tengen's.

“No...” You murmured. “I'm happy. I love you.”

Her concern softened into a smile, and she kissed your jaw, lips lingering long enough to whisper a promise into your skin. “We love you too. In this life, and in every one afterwards.”

🏷️ taglist: @mollzaj, @mitsvriii, @an-angstyteen

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[twola]

Pls pls a Drabble or one shot of soft sappy sex with Arthur 🙏

Drift

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Morning light drifts. Almost as if it was afloat, soft and drowsy. Warm and comforting.

Or maybe it’s just the cocoon you’ve wrapped yourself into, bare skin and blankets and an old cot within canvas walls. The quiet of dawn, where the birds awaken, chirping from the trees.

The soft, wet sound of lips meeting lips fills the tent, a thigh slung over hips, fingers tracing jawlines-

“I love you.”

His large hand cups the back of your head, fingers woven into your hair, pulling you gently to him once again. Your hand rests over his ribs, through which you can feel the steady thrum of his heart.

“Love you too-” a hushed breath, in between kisses, need rising, tongues pressing against each other until he moves. He could so easily move you, his size and strength intimidating out on the open road - but with ease and gentleness he pushes you to your back and climbs atop you, your legs opened wide to accept his hips.

Your foreheads touch, your fingers tracing up the hard muscles of his back while his forearms rest on either side of your head. You caress the nape of his neck, playing with the dark honeyed ends of his hair, growing longer by the week.

He leans heavily on one arm while he reaches down between the two of you to grasp his cock, guiding himself to press against the rim of your cunt, the head catching and you suck in a breath as the first inch of him slides inside.

“Alrigh’?” He asks, his voice still sleep-hoarse, and you answer with a nod before slotting your lips to his, tilting your hips up and he slips in another inch.

His eyes flutter closed as he bites his lower lip to keep himself quiet, pressing forward completely to bury himself in you, not stopping until his pelvis is flush to yours, until all of him is sheathed in you. You nuzzle against his jaw, his three-day-old beard scratching against your cheek. After a recentering moment, he finds your lips again, smothering a cry that escapes your throat as he rolls his hips in a full and heady stroke. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder as he does it again, and again, and again.

Sometimes, many times, there is not time for this - that your coupling is quick and fleeting. There is not time to bask in the morning light.

But today, as the larks sing as the world awakens outside of the tent, you flutter around him and he presses himself as deep as he can go, drowning in each other, breathing each other’s breaths, unfurling your love slowly, much as the world is becoming awake.

[ijbolz]

( NSFW MDNI ) jiung x fem!reader

3.4k words — it’s one of those nights again, where jiung badly felt like he needed some sort of release to help himself loosen up a bit during finals week at university. and what better way to de-stress than to jerk off, right? but when he’s surprised to see a message notification from his favorite camgirl, telling him about missing the private video call session he’d “apparently” purchased days ago, his horniness seems to fizzle down in confusion.

🗯️ mutual masturbation, cute and gentle jiung (but sometimes he can’t help his filthy mouth), a little bit of edging, reader gets called angel

(apologies for any typos, im currently half awake rn •́‿•̀)

look, he might’ve been one of the top students at his high school like what… years ago? yet he’ll admit he couldn’t dodge the burnt out gifted kid syndrome that almost everyone in the same situation as him catches as some kind of canon event in their life.

university felt like a punch to the gut, especially when JIUNG currently finds himself in a dilemma between keeping his grades afloat while he simultaneously pursues his dream of becoming a music producer. he doesn’t even care anymore if he doesn’t get the same stellar marks as usual, as long as he doesn’t fail. that’s all that counts. i mean, that’s what the other seniors like him were saying, right?

he tries his best to tiptoe through his shared dorm room with INTAK, passed out on the couch, drunk—he assumes, from the common room reeking of booze and the shallow glint of emptied soju bottles by the floor.

jiung locks the door to his room with bated breath. he lets his shoulder bag slide off to a corner, making sure his tissue box is right on his nightstand. it’s always been there anyway… he thinks before settling on his bed, phone in hand.

there’s nothing more that he wants right now than to jerk off or... shoo his stress away, and what better chance to do it while he watches his bookmarked porn videos in his private twitter account.

yeah, no… he’s too paranoid messing with this kind of stuff in his main, always thinking of the worst possible scenarios of accidentally liking a video… until it just gets aired out in the open for the rest of his followers to see. he keeps his circle close. though it’s just a couple of high school and university friends following him… he doesn’t want anyone knowing about his business like that.

he sits on his bed with the subtle glow of his phone screen illuminating him, pathetically huffing to himself as he wonders about his stagnant relationship status while he’s on the verge of graduating. jiung can’t seem to pinpoint what’s holding him back from meeting other people. it’s not like he’s far too buried within the books or… is it because of his embarrassing soundcloud rapper reputation that spread as a rumor through parties. he swears if they just give him a listen then they’ll know he’s not what they think he is!

but that’s the least of his concerns right now as he falls into another reverie of frustration, especially with these soulless nights of having to make do with just his hand.

all of his twitter dms are just full of his university “bros” and trivial conversations with them, except he’s surprised when he sees an unread message at the top of the list from…

…his favorite camgirl?

by favorite he means… probably the only camgirl he watches after accidentally stumbling upon your live one random friday night. a part of him thinks he accidentally pressed on a suspicious link and now his hacked account is receiving dms from some virus.

but when he opens up the conversation, he’s surprised to see a full-length message from you. though he’s not used to getting personally addressed with the petnames he’s being called within the message, he just brushes it off.

“i just wanted to inform you about the private video call you’d purchased from me a week ago, you weren’t responding on the set date~” it were the only words that registered in his feeble tired brain at that second… until he’s scrambling to sit up on his bed, wide-eyed and completely confused.

jiung does spend some time watching you when you go on live, but he can’t even remember purchasing anything from you at all. he’d get so dizzy and horny at times but he knows he’s not that kinda guy to avail extra services or whatever bullshit men are up to these days.

so he’s quick to type up an apology, expecting you to inbox an insignificant guy like him and move on. except… you seem to be nice enough to not let go just because he’d “apparently” paid for it already. it’ll just be a waste if he leaves it be, or you could just refund him the money.

but wait… if it’s already been paid though, who’s card was it from since he’s so sure it wasn’t from his. from having been monitoring if he has enough for his food expenses at the dorms, he can’t let a single dime out of sight.

he can’t help but laugh under his breath when he sees your message pop up, telling him about a certain “hwang intak” showing up on the transaction details for the payment. jiung thought that it must’ve been when the other guys got ahold of his phone when he blacked out from too much alcohol one night.

explains the weird glances from his other friends he’d catch at the halls as well, yet never receiving any further explanations. coming at him and asking, “so how was it?”, snickering to themselves while he just stands there clueless, raising the question of “...how was what?”

since it wasn’t paid from his card anyway… might as well take the chance, right?

it felt like a blur—blinking through his eyes as it finally sinks into him that he’s currently in a call with such a hottie like you. jiung can only swallow the lump in his throat that he hasn’t noticed from before. his face has fallen relaxed from seeing you through the screen, similarly basking under your dimly lit room. just enough that he could still make out the cute night gown you dressed yourself in. your figure’s flushed against the fabric, perfectly framing your silhouette.

"enjoy yourself, alright?" you began, his breathing picking up, feeling like it's all going too fast for his liking. and though you attempt a small conversation with him, your voice fades into the background, his gaze flickering to your touchy hands.

it's not long until you start caressing yourself through your night gown, figuring that maybe jiung still needs a little push because of his silence. “you can tell me anything you want me to do jiung, darling.”

he honestly felt like a breath of fresh air compared to your viewers that like to frequent having calls with you, fluttering your lashes as you await his words. “i’d like i-if, you lay down. please,” he’s so unbelievably sweet and gentle with his request, though his fierce stare said otherwise. like a flame lit within him.

and he desperately wishes you couldn’t see how nervous he is from his pathetic stutters. forgive him for not being as composed as he thought he’ll be, treading through unfamiliar waters. it’s not so often he’s got the chance to talk with such a babe like you—even calling each other just to do unspeakable things, he’s bound to go insane if he doesn’t inhale in a second.

he badly wishes he could just ravish you.

“have you still got anything underneath?” jiung manages to mutter, watching as you playfully pretend to think, a finger close to your chin.

“mhm-hm, i’ve got a surprise for you~”

he almost moans at your words, his eyes locked on his screen as he watches you fondle your breasts through your night gown. his sweatpants started feeling a little too tight for his liking, deeply aroused at the sight of your nipples perking up against the fabric, soft whines escaping your lips. and you only giggle at him, noticing the way jiung begins to fidget, palming his bulge out of frame. yet you don’t utter a word as well.

but the fabric’s feeling far too prickly on your skin as you kept on teasing your sensitive nipples through your clothes, hips bucking up against nothing...and so you beg, “can’t take it anymore, jiung… wanna take it all off,” he blushes at the way you’d call out his name.

the softness within his tone doesn’t falter as he tells you to go ahead and take your night gown off. you do, jiung watching the way your breasts get caught in the silk fabric bunching as you pull it up. biting his lip when he sees your sensitive parts covered in cute lace lingerie. swiftly dreaming of ripping them off or… gently tugging on it until you’re fully bare, whatever you want. anything just so he could press gentle kisses and suck everywhere he possibly could, except he can’t.

jiung’s frustration led to him pulling down the hem of his sweatpants, mind in a frenzy as he almost salivates at the tantalizing sight.

of course you had to give him a little show, cutely turning around so he could get a view with that sultry gaze of his. he snaps out of his trance when he hears the creak of your bed, your figure slipping out of the frame once you utter that you’ll be right back.

it's not for long until you return, meeting his eyes, lip caught between your teeth as you hid what you brought in with you. “i wonder how you’re so patient with me,”

you raise the question after not hearing a single peep from him, after having done everything else you had to by the minute. even setting up the camera a little closer so he’d get a better view of your clothed cunt.

“how could i rush an angel like you?”

and just when you thought he’d be so timid all night, he manages to make your heart flutter out of your chest, a grin sneaking on your lips followed by a short chuckle.

“mhmm, look at what you do to me, jiung.” you whisper, pulling your panties to the side, enough to reveal your dripping slit. he groans through his lips that were once pursed, hips bucking up at his hand. it’s so obvious how he felt a little embarrassed about being so worked up this early on during the call. and you haven’t even fully stripped yet.

“i want to see you feel good… play with that pretty pussy of yours for me?” it’s like his cock is talking for himself at this point, wishing you missed the way his eyes widened a little at his words.

“it’s almost as if you always know the right thing to say,” you coo at him before shuffling on the sheets, pulling in within the frame a bunch of the toys you like to use to get yourself off during your livestreams. “help me pick?” your hand found purchase in a cute little pink toy that could fit snugly right into your palm. “this one helps me squirt a bit easier—”

“—i know.” he cuts you off, trying to blink away the daze he’s caught ever since he’s been on call with you. it’s like his horniness urges him to talk without a second thought.

“of course you’d know,” you reply with a slight laugh, settling the little toy back onto your pile.

before you could pick up your vibrator by the side, jiung’s quick to catch your attention, eyes flickering up at him. “i was wondering if you could try that one, by your thigh.”

“this pastel pink one?” he nods, fixated on how your fingers couldn’t even fully wrap around the girth of the toy. he’s not one to show off, and yet he can’t help but feel like it slightly resembles his cock a bit, even a little on the veinier edge. he pushes his obscene fantasies toward the back of his mind but he can’t seem to stop wondering… if you really were there with him, could you really handle his cock?

and he thinks it’s a bit cute that your toy matches your lingerie set, tilting your head to the side as if you were asking him permission to take all of the pink fabric off. once the rest of your clothes were discarded, you wasted no time on settling the toy on the bed, kneeling to grind your wet cunt on the tip until jiung softly insists that he wants you to lay back onto your sheets.

“just wanna see how it, s-stretches you out…” you think he’s so adorable trying to keep a gentle tone while his words were a total contrast, straight up filth. don’t get him wrong, he couldn’t resist watching you bounce on your little toy until you cream all over. it’s just that, he wonders what it’ll look like when you're beneath him. but he keeps his thoughts a hushed secret.

you think jiung’s really cute trying to ask, but you wanted to play with him a little bit more before you could have your fun.

“it’s no fair you get to see me with nothing on at all… wanna see you too,”

he only blinks, brows furrowed like there was an inch of hesitation tugging him back. despite everything, he really couldn’t resist your adorable plea, angling his phone down. enough for you to still get a view of his pretty lips, the expanse of his neck—adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps. wishing badly that you could suck on the exposed skin as the collar of his sweater almost slides down his shoulder.

but what really catches your attention is his leaky cock, salivating over the sight of his tip, an angry red.

“so you're hiding all that underneath?”

jiung bites his lip in silence. he doesn't get this much attention from before, so he's a bit clueless on how to act. it’s not like he hasn’t flirted with anyone else his whole life, it’s just that... he hasn’t gone to this phase yet. and with such a huge leap he’s facing tonight, he’s a bit embarrassed that it makes his cock twitch in return.

“what’d you say you go on live with me sometime soon?” he catches the way you begin to drag the shaft of the toy in between your legs, enough to make it all sticky with your arousal, teasing your sensitive clit. jiung’s quick to match your pace, dragging his palm repeatedly from the base up to his tip. he’s trying to find the right words… yet he's miserably reduced to a mere stutter.

“just kidding baby,” he breathes out a sigh from your reply. out of relief or pleasure, he doesn't know.

“want you all to myself anyway, can’t have others looking at you like i do. right baby?” and it's like his hand has a mind of his own as his pace speeds up, sinking onto the sheets as he starts to feel the pleasure surge through his nerves. his eyes are fierce as he watches the way you slowly inch the tip of the toy into your hole, splitting you open. you badly wish you could see the look on his face when he lets out the hottest groans you’d ever heard in your life.

“nghm, jiung…” you sink the whole length of the toy inside of your sopping cunt, cheeks flushed as he tightens his grip everytime his hand reaches the base of his cock. fuck, he truly wants to find out how it feels like to thrust into that pretty pussy of yours. must feel so good, feeling your wetness clench around him.

“be a little bit more vocal with me, especially with a voice like that.” you wantonly urged. and when he’d thought he'd only dream of hearing a compliment like that towards his songs. jiung felt like he’s gonna melt at your words.

you desperately wanted to hear the rasp in his voice as you eventually got used to the stretch of your toy, clenching around the veins of its shaft. “fuck yourself how you’d think i’d do you if i was there,”

you can’t help but moan at his sudden words, fingers tight around your toy, attempting to meet your sloppy thrusts halfway.

“oh you’re so filthy huh,” a smirk tugs at the side of ur lips, following his firm command. “from the way you’re breathing so heavily right now i think you couldn't really resist me at all.”

your words fade into a whimper when you’d grant what he asked for, sinking your toy over and over inside your cunt in a mindblowing pace. and it’s until he begins to see your arousal seep around where your hole meets the shaft, so wet and messy.

jiung matches your speed, so sure that if it were your cunt gripping his cock right now instead of his hand, he would’ve been pathetically cumming already. he wouldn’t admit it but you’re right, he’d absolutely lose his mind, like what he’s starting to feel by the second. fighting to keep his heavy lids open as the squelch of your wet cunt echoes through his ears, each thrust wishing it was the tip of his throbbing cock hitting your spot.

fuck, it’s driving jiung insane when you start to whine about wanting to cum badly, and yet he’s so shameless when he tells you to keep it in until he says so, biting your lip at the abrupt shift in tone.

"ahh... you're such a tease,"

it’s so cute as the both of you slow down before almost crashing into your climax, trembling hand turning into an unhurried pace of thrusting as you hold onto your toy messy with slick. jiung kept silent, looking so adorably pathetic as he couldn't help but buck into his palm wrapped around the length of his cock.

“let me see your face angel?” and you peer the camera up so he could see your glossy eyes, tears threatening to escape from the desperation of wanting to chase your high. unfortunately, he doesn’t wanna snap you out of getting edged yet.

he’s such a menace as he begins his pace again, and only him, leaving you uttering pleas for his signal. moaning in unison while he’s trying to reach the same peak as you.. only resorting to fiddling with your perked nipples, toy still inside of your pulsing hole.

“i’m cumming, fuck… cum with me angel.” and at his words you follow, beginning to fuck yourself to amplify the heat pooling at your stomach, eyes shut tight wishing it was him plowing through your cunt, mad.

it’s not for long until you’re so lost within a drunken haze, only a chorus of erotic moans exchanged between a screen. though you’d fuck yourself countless of times before with this filthy toy, it had never felt this good. as if it were jiung who was pushing you toward the edge of pleasure, or maybe it’s just his charms taking effect on you.

you throw the thought aside as you watch him chase his climax. furiously stroking himself over and over with just the mere desperation and horniness of a touch-deprived graduating college student, along with the echo of your breathy whines to get him off.

jiung reaches his orgasm with a deep groan vibrating in his chest, and you think about how cute he is when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips up at his grip, hot cum all messy as it shoots out of his slit. and just like he does, your vision gets cloudy, back arching, as your legs begin to tremble, fucking yourself with fervor through your climax using your girthy toy. you’d never had a shuddering orgasm like this before, numbing your thighs until the rest of the pleasure spread through your veins. and you kept fucking and fucking the toy into you until your trembling hands had mercy on your pulsing cunt.

of course your eyes had never left him, moaning at the sight of his flushed cheeks, mouth slightly agape in bliss until he can’t cum anymore. you coo when his camera suddenly looks hazy. and from jiung’s point of view, he’d pathetically made a mess of his release all over his screen, looking like he'd actually cum all over your face, clarity following closely.

it was silent for a long moment, until your giggles interrupted the silence. “you had fun?”

“y-yeah i…” his voice is hoarse through the little stutters, trying to catch his ragged breath.

“you were so cute,” you can't help but giggle again, slipping the toy out of your cunt with ease.

fuck, you looked so hot, can’t even take his eyes off you when he watches your sticky cum drip out of your hole… down to your sheets.

“i-i’ll help you clean up if i could, sorry i really,-”

“i think it's more like you need to clean up, something’s gotten on your camera.”

and that’s when he snaps back into reality… scrambling to his box of tissues and wipes his filthy mess off of his screen. and in a daze, jiung accidentally ends the call when he wipes over the end call button.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s like he’d cum once and just started to fumble every single thing he’s trying to do. he swiftly types up a cute little apology of how he didn’t mean to end the call so abruptly, missing the way you’d only giggle at his flood of messages. this time, he made sure he wiped his hand clean before fiddling with the damn screen of his phone.

y/n: sweet dreams, cutie~

he watches as the last of your message pops up before sinking into his plush sheets, blankly staring at the darkness of his ceiling. choi jiung you're crazy...

...his friends won’t fucking believe his story.

[wholoveseggs]

Indulgences

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

Part Three

As your relationship with Elijah deepens, conflict arises and you are put in an impossible situation.

5.5k words - Warnings: smutttt, red door elijah {my interpretation of him}, drug use, adult themes, domestic abuse, violence, blood drinking.

Please be aware that this part is very violent. {Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

Elijah kept coming back, week after week, booking the platinum suite and requesting you. Every time you entered the suite and locked eyes with him your memories came flooding back in an instant. He would lay his head in your lap and tell you his heartaches while you stroked his dark hair. You learned how he was robbed of his life a thousand years ago, and how much guilt he carries in his heart. He would speak of his family with equal love and frustration, his world tipping further into turmoil with every passing day.

You admired his heart, his humanity, his fearlessness in facing his darkness. Sometimes, on rare occasions, his vulnerability would peek through and he would confide in you about his need for control and his fear of losing it. And sometimes, even more rarely, his heart would bleed for those he had killed and will kill. They were moments of weakness that he only let you see.

You began to care for him, truly care for him, past being his private dancer, past him being your cash cow. They were times when his perfect mask slipped just a little, showing a more fragile side of him, one you knew he had carefully crafted and honed to perfection. These moments revealed to you just how human he still was, despite having spent the past one thousand years as a vampire.

One night, as you gently traced your fingers through his dark hair while he rested his head on your lap, you softly asked, "Why did you choose me?”

Elijah, his gaze fixed on the opposite wall, murmured, "The way you looked at me... there was something about your eyes, they were so..."

"What?" you whispered, the intimate moment creating a tightness in your chest.

"Alive," he whispered back. "You looked at me as if you could see straight through my mask to the inner demon beyond and didn't care."

"I do see straight through you," you teased.

Elijah smirked, then averted his eyes. It was painfully evident to anyone who met him that beneath the facade of a perfect gentleman in tailored suits, a dark turmoil simmered within him, a side he struggled to keep subdued.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, as though trying to compose himself, and returned his gaze to yours.

"Do you like this job? Does it make you happy?" he asked curiously.

"Not happy, but it helps me survive." You replied honestly.

"If there was a way for you to never have to do this job again, would you take it?" Elijah asked seriously, studying you intently.

"It's complicated, this is my only way to earn money and stay afloat, I can't imagine life without it," you explained, a bit confused by his line of questions.

"If you had a choice," Elijah started, leaning in closer.

You sighed, borderline amused by how cliche he was being. It must have shown on your face because the side of Elijah's mouth twitched, and he continued.

"Would you want to leave with me, leave all of this, escape to a better place?" His question made your stomach lurch, and you sat up straighter, heart pounding. You weren't a fool; you had heard this offer from a few clients before. They all craved the fantasy of having a stripper for a girlfriend while playing the white knight, rescuing her from what they deemed a shameful profession. As you stared at Elijah for a long moment, sizing him up and searching his eyes, you realized he was different. Unlike the other men who made similar offers, Elijah possessed the power to fulfill his proposition—a considerable amount of power, so much that it left you feeling unsettled.

"I'd say take me to your kingdom," you jested, wearing a playful expression, not revealing any clear intention to go with him. 

He gave you a searching look and leaned towards you, hands on either side of your hips, pinning you to the couch. "Say the word, and we leave this instant," he murmured, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

"I'm not a fantasy, handsome. I'm a person with a life outside of this place, one you know nothing about," you remarked quietly.

"Then tell me," Elijah asked, the atmosphere around you intensifying, his gaze transforming into a look that pinned you down in more ways than one.

Running your fingers through your hair, you chewed the inside of your cheek, torn about whether revealing the truth would shift the power balance. The mysterious allure you carefully maintained gave you control over clients, resulting in higher tips. However, a part of you hesitated, not wanting Elijah to view you solely as a mystery. You longed for him to see the real you—a human with flaws and struggles like everyone else—rather than getting entangled in the fantasy of you.

"I'd rather not," you said firmly.

"Do you have terrible dark secrets?" He teased light heartedly, not daring to take his eyes away from yours.

"This," you said, gesturing around the room, "is not about me,"

You resisted this glimmer of hope, this tempting fantasy. Reality held you captive, you had troubles and responsibilities that hadn't magically disappeared just because Elijah walked in and requested to see you specifically.

"I disagree," he said gently, cupping your chin, turning your face to meet his. "It's very much about you. I would have never returned to this place if you weren't here,"

You blinked back the stinging feeling behind your eyes, and reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him close so you were face to face.

"Exactly darling, it's all about you," you murmured, brushing your lips against his.

"That's not what I meant," Elijah whispered, but let you deepen the kiss regardless.

"Isn't it though?" you teased, sliding out from under him, standing up.

"This is where our night comes to an end, handsome," you announced, extending your hand out to him.

He grasped your outstretched hand, his dark brown eyes focused on you, and pulled you down until you were straddling him. You let out a soft gasp of surprise, your hands automatically resting on his chest.

"One more kiss," Elijah murmured, his voice muffled as he nuzzled your neck.

You gave a low laugh, tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and even, sending a thrill through your whole body. You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation of his touch.

His hands traveled up your thighs, until they reached your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your g-string. The heat from his fingers caused a blush to rise on your cheeks and your heart to beat faster.

"May I touch you?" Elijah asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your body tensing at the thought of him being intimate with you. This wasn't allowed, Mitch would fire you on the spot. No sleeping with clients. It was his number one rule. Mostly because the club would lose its license.

But you didn't care about any of that, all that mattered was Elijah. You wanted him to touch you, to bring you pleasure. You wanted him to take you away from the pain and sadness, if only for a little while. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head in consent.

Elijah's eyes darkened with lust, his hand sliding between your legs, fingers grazing your damp panties. You bit back a moan, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He continued his gentle teasing, his fingers rubbing circles against your clit, watching your responses.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, kissing your neck.

You whimpered softly, arching your back, pushing your breasts against his chest. You wanted more, needed more. You wanted him to make you forget everything except his touch.

He dipped two fingers into your aching core, a breathy moan escaping your lips. You clenched around him, your head swimming with desire. He moved his fingers in and out of you, curling them ever so slightly. He brought his thumb up and traced small circles against your clit. You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, your climax swiftly approaching.

"That's it, beautiful," Elijah whispered, nipping at your ear.

You came undone, the tension in your body melting away, your hips bucking against his hand. You felt a sharp pain in your neck as he sunk his fangs into your skin. Your legs trembled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your breathing ragged, your skin slick with sweat. He continued to stroke you, his movements drawing out your orgasm until you were a trembling mess.

He let out a low groan, pulling his mouth away from your neck, blood smeared on his lips. His eyes were completely black, dark veins snaking down his cheeks.

You gently ran your fingertips over his cheeks, marveling at the creature that lurked beneath the mask of a gentleman. He was breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly deadly. Your touch was enough to calm him and his features returned to their human appearance.

He pulled his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, licking away your arousal with a predatory growl.

You giggled and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. His hands rested on your hips, his grip tightening. He returned the kiss, a sweet yet heated one that took your breath away.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whispered, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Why not? Did you not enjoy yourself?" Elijah questioned, his eyes full of concern.

"No, no it's not that, I...I mean, we're not allowed to have sex with the clients," you confessed, embarrassed by your admission.

"Do you still see me as just a client?" He asked with a raised brow.

"No, but Mitch will. I'll lose my job." You mumbled, biting your bottom lip.

He ran his fingers through your hair and cupped your chin, his eyes boring into yours. "Then come with me," he murmured, his lips ghosting against yours.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, taking a deep breath. You wanted to say yes, you really did, but the reality was still there. He kisses you again, gently biting on his lip, the taste of his blood making your skin tingle. You felt the sting of the bite mark on your neck fade, and you pulled back. His fingers traced the area where the wound was, his eyes slightly far away.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Why?" You asked, your heart skipping a beat.

"I didn't ask for your permission," he explained, his jaw clenched.

You placed your palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath your fingers, soothing the storm inside of him. "It's fine," you reassured him.

His expression softened and he smiled at you, the love and affection in his gaze filling you with warmth. You never had anyone look at you like that before and you found yourself wishing that the moment would never end, but reality set in.

"Time to go, darling." He said quietly, his breath fanning over your face. "You won't remember this until you see me again,"

You kissed him one last time and rose off his lap, swaying on your heels. You could feel his eyes on you as you stretched lazily, earning his appreciation.

"Have a good night, handsome." you murmured, teasingly blowing him a kiss as you strutted out the door.

You sat in the dressing room, looking down at the stack of hundreds on your lap. Once again confused on how you made that much. You couldn't remember a single detail of your time with the wealthy client in the platinum suite, it unnerved you. You wondered if the molly was strong enough to block out your memory and leave you totally empty.

"I hope your not fucking suit guy," Stacy remarked, walking by your chair, admiring herself in the mirror, a dark purple silk robe draped loosely around her body.

"I'm not." You assured her, shoving the hundred dollar bills back into your bag.

"You better not be, Mitch would fire you so fast, not to mention Jordan would be devastated," she remarked, a smirk on her face.

"I don't do that," you repeated, watching her change her attitude.

"There's an exception to every rule," Stacy remarked, pursing her red stained lips and applying another coat of lipstick.

"I'm not a cheater. Elijah is just a wealthy client who likes to talk, you know the type," you said with a shrug.

"Elijah," Stacy echoed, laughing. "You're on a first name basis with him? God, you might as well be fucking him," she taunted, raising her brows at you.

"Fuck off, Stacy," you snapped, glowering at her, refusing to let her get a rise out of you.

Jordan walked in, his usual friendly expression on his face, an extra spark in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He pressed his lips to your cheek in greeting.

"How's my baby?" he asked cheerfully.

"Good," you mumbled, quickly moving your bag out of sight.

"Hiii Jordy," Stacy sang, batting her eyelashes at him.

He flashed her a quick grin before turning his attention back to you. You could feel the knot in your stomach slowly untying itself, he was in a good mood today.

"Let's go get dinner, I know this great bar near here," Jordan said eagerly, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

You gave a half hearted smile, nodding your head. You would rather go home to a quiet apartment but you knew better than to spoil his mood with your defiance.

"Sounds fun," you murmured, forcing a smile.

Jordan and you walked out of the club, his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He glanced down at you, his face still carrying a smile, but his eyes holding a warning.

"You okay baby?" He asked.

"Tired," you replied simply, hoping it would be enough to explain your earlier behavior. "Is it okay if we just go home?"

"No! It's Friday, and I need time with my girl," he practically whined, as he guided you to his car.

Your heart sank at the tone in his voice, knowing very well he wouldn't take no for an answer. It was a game he played to get you to do what he wanted and give him an excuse to fight later, usually for being stubborn or a stuck up bitch.

"My shift was so long," you mumbled.

He shoved you into the passengers seat, closing the door before you could reach the handle. He got into the drivers side and turned the key, a sly smirk on his face. He grabbed your wrist, squeezing it tightly, his nails biting into your skin, he leaned in, his lips next to your ear.

"Why is it so hard to please you baby?" he whispered, his tone seething.

You stared at him, keeping your face neutral, dread churning in your stomach. You could feel the bruises beginning to form on your wrist, his anger slowly rising. He squeezed even tighter and you winced, a strangled cry leaving your lips. He let go of your wrist and slipped his hand between your legs, inching his fingers to your mound, squeezing roughly.

"This belongs to me, baby. How many times do I have to remind you that you're mine?" Jordan sneered, tightening his hold on you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears burning behind your eyes, and looked away, trying to detach yourself from the situation.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you murmured, shrinking away from him.

"Damn straight," he said, releasing his grip on you and turning his attention to the road, "Dinner and drinks at Rousseaus, you’ll love it."

You gave a stiff nod, trying to ignore the fear and anger in your heart.

Rousseau's was more crowded than you expected, but you both managed to find a table. You sat and waited while Jordan got drinks.

Other men always looked at you, wherever you went, it always made you uncomfortable. Especially so when you were with Jordan, his jealousy could cause an explosion at any moment. You wished he hadn't insisted on coming to the bar tonight, there was a feeling in your gut that told you something was going to go wrong.

When he returned with the drinks his mood had dramatically shifted, his eyes darting around the room as he slid into his seat next to you.

You picked at your finger nails, chipping away at the paint, and scooted your chair a few inches away from his. You could feel his eyes on you, seething with jealousy, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.

"Maybe we should go," you suggested, shooting him a wary look.

"We just got here and I ain't done drinking," he replied, placing his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his fingertips.

"Okay," you said in a small voice, lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face, lightly brushing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. You could tell by the look in his eyes that something wasn't right.

"Stacy was telling me something very interesting about you," he whispered, his voice dripping with suspicion.

"Oh?" You asked, feigning innocence, heart beginning to race.

"Yeah," Jordan mused, gently tracing a pattern on your skin. "She told me how you kept having one on ones in the platinum suite. Absolutely raking in the tips. Does that sound like something you're familiar with?" His words were soft, but his voice was harsh.

Your stomach dropped at his question, realizing what he was getting at. You stared back at him blankly, trying to formulate a response. You thought about lying to him, you were a good liar, you did it everyday of your life. Jordan was visibly seething, but he wouldn't do anything to you in public, so you kept your guard up just in case.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, babe," you said in the sweetest, yet most patronizing tone, grabbing his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

He narrowed his eyes at you and took another sip of his drink. Your stomach turned, you knew he wasn't finished, this was far from over.

"If I find out you're lying to me," he started, his voice menacing. "I'll kill you."

The color drained from your face, fear coursing through your veins. You wanted to bolt out the door, run for your life, anything to get away from him, but you didn't. You looked away from his terrifying eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.

That's when you saw him, sitting near the window, watching you intently. Elijah.

The reality of his existence hit you like a swift blow. He was a vampire. He had bared his heart and soul to you. Just hours ago, you had been in his embrace, experiencing pleasure as he fed off you. Then he would erase the memory from your mind, leaving you oblivious to what he truly was. He offered you a knowing smile, his dark eyes piercing into yours. Your cheeks flushed red as you looked away. Despite everything, a part of you yearned to run to him, to forget about the monster lurking beside you.

"Excuse me for a second," you whispered, letting go of Jordan’s hand and sliding your seat back.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Jordan snapped, his grip on your knee tightening, his fingers digging painfully into your skin.

"Just the bathroom," you muttered, struggling to keep your composure.

He gave you a steely look, before releasing your knee. You gathered your purse and rose to your feet and without glancing back at him, headed for the bathroom.

You felt Elijah's presence behind you when you got to the hallway. Fear churned inside you like a whirlpool, as you turned to face him, not completely sure what you would say to him.

"It's not a good time for a talk," you said in a low voice, opening the door to the ladies room, hoping Elijah would get the hint.

"You seem distressed," he said quietly, concern clear in his voice.

"Come in, you can't be out here with me," you whispered, tugging on his hand, pulling him into the bathroom.

You checked to make sure the coast was clear and locked the door, feeling Elijah's eyes following you.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He teased in a gentle tone, clasping his hands in front of him, subtly checking you out.

"Yes," you said softly, leaning against the counter, staring down at the floor.

"Is he why you won't run away with me?," Elijah asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, as he placed his hands on the counter, boxing you in between him and the sink.

"Among other things," you replied evasively, tilting your head up, your gaze resting on his.

"Name one of them," he purred, bringing his hand up to your hair, twirling a stray strand around his finger.

"You've messed with my memories, Elijah. When I'm not around you, I don't remember our time together; I’m frightened of you," you admitted, your body stiffening. "I blame it on the drugs I take, I get anxious about my mental health," you trailed off, feeling shame rising in your throat.  "But then I'm with you and..I feel calm, I feel safe, like you'd protect me. And, it scares me, this emotional whiplash is taking its toll,”

"I'm sorry for frightening you, that wasn't my intention," he said gently, his hands lifting to rest on your hips, gently lifting you onto the counter.

"Everything is... complicated, Elijah," you murmured, running your fingers through your hair, trying to muster an answer.

"I know," he murmured, leaning in and kissing your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. “I won't compel you anymore, my dear, I trust you,”

You closed your eyes, inhaling his wonderful scent, it made your stomach flutter with butterflies. This didn't feel real, you hadn't felt this happy in so long, it was surreal.

Your hands went to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath your palms, and his lips met yours. The kiss was soft, affectionate, and full of meaning. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, never wanting to let go.

"You don't love him do you?," Elijah whispered in your ear, trailing his finger down your jaw.

"No," You breathed, shaking your head, grasping the lapels of his suit. "I couldn't, I try, I have for years, but I just can't,"

He hummed his agreement and kissed you with more passion than you'd experienced with any man before. You could feel his desire, his urgency, and you craved him. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, letting out a soft gasp when his hands slipped under your dress, gently kneading your thighs.

"No, we can't, not with Jordan here," you rasped, reluctantly pushing his hands away. "Please don't. If he suspects something..." You whispered, trailing off, swallowing hard.

Elijah glanced down at your hands on his chest, his brow furrowing as he noticed your bruised and swollen wrist.

"You're hurt," he observed, examining the marks on your skin, his expression a strange mixture of anger and concern.

"It's fine," You reassured him, trying to pull away from his grip, "just forget about it. Really, I'm ok,"

"He hurt you," Elijah insisted, frowning.

"I had an attitude with him," You mumbled, yanking your arm back, and cradling your wrist in your lap, and nervously twisting the hem of your dress in your fingers.

"Y/n," he said softly. "This isn't the first time he's hurt you is it?"

You looked up at him through tear filled eyes, your mask of composure finally slipping.

"No," you said in a small voice.

"How long has he done this to you?" He asked in a low voice, cupping your face in his palms.

"Years," you choked, no longer able to hold in your emotions, tears trickling down your face. You felt such pure humiliation, embarrassment that Elijah had seen such weakness in you.

"I have to go," you stammered, rubbing your eyes and sniffling.

"You don't have to leave," Elijah insisted, bringing your face up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

You froze at his question, wondering what kind of answer he wanted.

"It ruins the fantasy," you said with a dry laugh, trying to brush it off as some stupid joke.

Elijah furrowed his brow at you, looking shocked at your response.

"Do you think I judge you? See you as just a stripper?" He asked earnestly, all of his usual confidence dissipating.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak, but not daring to lie to him, watching him through watery eyes.

"I told you about my life, my father, the torment he put my family through, how could I judge you?," Elijah asked, lowering his face to yours, our lips inches apart, his scent flooding your senses.

"I don't know," you whispered, keeping your gaze fixed on his, savoring his kindness.

"We'll get through this," Elijah whispered in your ear. "Together."

"I have to go," you whispered, before the weight of what he said could sink in.

"Walk out with me, you never have to be near him again," Elijah begged.

"No, please, it'll make everything worse," You pleaded, sliding off the counter. "Don't give me hope, I can't handle hope."

"Y/n," Elijah began, sounding exasperated.

"I'll see you at the club, okay? Goodbye." you said quietly, before he could protest anymore, leaving the bathroom.

Tears filled your eyes as you walked through the bar, taking slow deep breaths to calm yourself. Jordan was still sitting at the table, looking extremely impatient. You tried to ignore the unsettling feeling in your gut as you sat down. He swirled the liquid in his glass, his expression blank. 

"Took you long enough, what were you doing in there?" Jordan sneered, pinning you with his icy glare.

You could now remember everything about Elijah, how he made you feel, all those hours together in the platinum suite. Everything. And now here, looking at Jordan, your abuser, the man who took so much from you, was such a contrast that it was almost unbearable. You were revolted by his very presence.

"I just needed a moment to myself, you know? After what you said about killing me," You forced a tight smile, taking a sip of your cocktail, your throat had never been drier.

Jordan scoffed, his features darkening with annoyance. "Let's go, this bar fucking sucks," he snarled, slamming his empty glass down on the table, rose to his feet and swiped his keys off the table.

You took the last sip of your drink and reached into your purse, pulling out your wallet. You felt his hand rest on your arm, you were almost paralyzed with fear.

"What the fuck is that?" Jordan snarled, looking at the tips you earned from Elijah earlier.

You swallowed thickly, completely taken aback, you had no idea what to do.

"I... I got a bonus today," you said in a feeble tone.

Jordan stared down at the money, completely enraged. "Stacy was right wasn't she? You've been fucking that rich asshole," he whispered, his fist closing around your arm, dragging you to your feet.

He quickly guided you through the crowd and outside the bar, pulling you towards the nearby alley. Your mind reeled with panic, realizing what was happening. Your legs no longer functioned as he dragged you behind the building.

"Baby, let's go back inside, I don't understand what's going on," you pleaded, trying to regain composure.

"I asked you a question. Tell me," Jordan growled, his fingertips dug into your arm painfully.

"It was a bonus," you snapped.

His fist connected with your face in a sudden and violent burst of rage. The impact was so intense it dazed you, the air being knocked out of your lungs as you tried to keep your footing.

"I know you're fucking some gangster and keeping all the tips for yourself," he shouted, his hands wrapping around your throat, forcing you against the wall.

Your hands scrambled for his, trying to pry his fingers off, his grip squeezing tighter as the lack of air made your vision blur.

"I asked you nicely and you have the nerve to fucking lie to me? That just shows me that you don't love me at all," he yelled, rage boiling in his veins, his grip nearly crushing your windpipe.

"Please..." you whispered, through ragged gasps for breath.

"I've done nothing but take care of you since we met and this is how you repay me?" He shouted, his grip tightening even more, your entire body struggling to get oxygen, tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

You brought your knee up as hard as you could to his groin. Jordan groaned and doubled over, loosening his grip enough to allow you to wrench yourself free.

You began to run in the direction of the street, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. But he caught up, grabbing your hair and forcing you to the ground. You cried out in pain as he landed on top of you, his hands roaming all over your body as he held you down, squeezing every inch of skin he could grab.

"Shh, shh, don't scream baby, don't scream," he hushed you, slapping his hand over your mouth. "It's okay I forgive you."

"Get off of me!" You cried, as he frantically tugged on your dress. He didn't waste another second, gripping your jaw tightly, his fingers digging in painfully.

"You think I'd let you cheat on me and get away with it?" Jordan gritted out, his hands wrapping around your throat again, increasing the pressure. Your screams were only barely audible now, your vision starting to fade, everything slowly turning black. 

Suddenly there was no weight on your chest. You gasped for air, taking desperate shallow breaths, looking up at Elijah who was pinning Jordan to the wall by the throat. Elijah's eyes were completely black, gray veins stretched out under his eyes.

"Do you know what it feels like to be unable to breathe?" He growled, his grip tightening, Jordan's face turning a ghastly shade of blue. "The fear, the terror that overwhelms your body. To know that no matter how hard you fight, you're going to die?"

Jordan's eyes bulged in fear, his hands clutching at his throat, trying to get away.

"You were going to kill her, weren't you?" Elijah seethed, his voice trembling with rage.

"Please... I'm sorry," Jordan wheezed, his voice barely audible.

"She begged for mercy and you ignored her, why should I show you the same courtesy?" Elijah asked, in an eerily calm tone.

Jordan's eyes widened as he struggled against Elijah, desperately trying to loosen the vampire's grip.

"Cockroach," he snarled, his fingers curling tighter around his neck, lifting him up, Jordan's feet no longer touching the ground. "Be still."

"No... no," Jordan squealed pathetically, "what are you?"

Elijah pulled Jordan's face close to his, Jordan's limbs thrashing at his sides, trying to pry away the iron grip on his neck. Elijah gave him a sinister smile, his fangs gleaming in the dim light.

"Death," Elijah whispered, before swiftly snapping his neck.

The blood drained from your face, your head spinning, everything feeling as if it was happening in slow motion. His body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, an unnatural twist to his neck, Jordan's life no longer there.

You felt your heart stop, like someone had thrust a knife through your chest, you almost couldn't breathe. He was dead. Gone. A part of you was happy, euphoric even, he would never touch you again, hit you again, torture you any more. You never felt any pleasure when you were with him, the man was your prison, he had no redeeming qualities and yet, the scars still remained.

Elijah knelt in front of you, pulling off his suit jacket and draping it across your shoulders. Your hands were numb as they slipped through the holes, holding it shut in the front.

"We can't leave him like that," you whispered, staring at Jordan's body, slumped against the brick.

"I'll handle it," Elijah murmured. "Can you stand?"

You nodded, rising on unsteady feet, grateful when he wrapped his arms around you, supporting you as you stumbled. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car, quickly setting you down in the passenger seat.

"Do you wish for me to take you home?" Elijah asked gently, seeing that you'd retreated inside of yourself, staring into the distance.

"No." you said hoarsely, resting your head against the glass.

He didn't seem surprised, opening the door, slipping inside and starting the car. His hand rested on your knee, drawing lazy circles on the bare skin, the effect was soothing and you closed your eyes, taking slow steady breaths.

"My home it is, then.”

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}{Moodboard->}

PS: There will be a part four -xo

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