#last i saw you you were tied to a chair

[what-a-fella]

Prince Humperdinck? what are you doing in my horror movie?

[targaryenluvs]

OH BABY!

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader, young!naive!tribute reader

summary: finnick found you to be as cute as ever. but you aren’t exactly the smartest in the room according to him. luckily, finnicks more than happy to help his sweet baby succeed, and he will not let you forget him.

warnings: AGE GAP (18 - 23) smut, FILTH THIS MAN IS DOWNBAD, possessive, corruption, pervy finnick, violent thoughts/intrusive, exhibitionist? degradation, oral (m & f), p in v, overstimulation, praise, mirror kink? spanking 👀 rough sex? tummy bulge, my first time writing smut be kind 😭

word count: 5k - this is literally the longest fic ive written.

a/n: this is what happens at 6am and i can’t sleep, thoughts are thunk -UPDATE HOLY CRAP THERE IS GONNA BE A NEW MOVIW AND BOOKKKSJSNABS

taglist: @coolchick333 @doublesideeye

“and the female tribute for district four, y/n l/n.” your eye involuntarily twitched at your name being called. the people around you, distanced themselves from you as a path was carved to your own hell.

as you walked to the platform you kept your head down. you were actually hopeful that you’d get through this reaping, your last and then never see the inside of the arena. but of course fate was against you. as you stood in front of the people you couldn’t help the silent tears that fled down your face.

your mothers face was tired and drained, she had a feeling you’d get picked. mothers intuition? your father was pissed, his little girl, his sweetheart, being thrown into an arena to die? and worst of all, there wasn’t anything he could do.

you felt alone, as if no one could help you. and as you said goodbye to the life you knew, you could only pray for safety, and a quick death.

as you were escorted to the train you fiddled with your sweater sleeves. pulling them down, rolling them up, just to focus your mind on something. it was chilly, most likely the air conditioning on the train and sometimes you had to hold down your skirt.

finnick couldn’t take his eyes of you once he saw you on the train. you looked so tiny in the chair and he couldn’t help but smile.

he practically had you all to himself.

“y/n?” your head shot up at your name being called and you were met with finnick odair in all his glory. “finnick? finnick odair?” even calling his name you sounded so unsure, so he smiled and nodded.

“i’m your mentor, and i promise to try my best to get you to win.” he sat down in front of you, spreading his legs and you felt your face warm up. he found you adorable, with a cute white sweater and a short black skirt. you had your hair down with the front parts tied up with a bow. his own personal present.

your shy demeanour reminded him of your young age, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. you were looking everywhere but at him and he loved it.

“do… do you think i can win?” god no. the tributes would eat you up alive, but he’d try his best. “i do.” with just two words of encouragement, you smiled at him for the first time.

finnick wanted you to smile at him forever.

“are you hungry?” the rumbling of your stomach answered his question, as you ducked your head in your hands in embarrassment.

he moved your hands aside, tilting your chin up, "it's okay to be hungry sweetheart, come on." he held his hand out for you and he laughed at your hesitance. "i don't bite, not unless you want me to.” the last part of his sentence came out hushed and you averted your eyesight from him.

there were so many foods laid out before you, and it wasn’t as if you were poor, but god, it all looked nice. the eclairs took your attention away as you reached for one, your finger sweeping cream off the top before placing it in your mouth. it was sickeningly sugary but you had a sweet tooth, you retracted your finger with a pop! and you somehow didn’t hear finnicks groan.

how on earth were you not realising how dirty it seemed? and it was there finnick realised how pure you were, “its so good,” you flashed him a toothy grin, “you'll have some won't you finnick?" you offered it up to him with two hands and how could he resist? the two of you spent the rest of your time on the train eating and talking, finnick utilising his time to get to know you.

you’d spent a day getting settled and were now to get ready for your interview.

after being prepped and readied, you were shuffled into your dressing room where analise, damian and sarah awaited. a range of compliments were thrown your way.

“oh isn’t she adorable?”

“i could pinch her cheeks forever!”

“you are precious!”

they were so nice to you and you loved it, but you barely ever learned how to take compliments so you ended up just nodding your head. “she is gorgeous,” you snapped your head up to the doorway and there stood your mentor, in all his glory. his compliment felt heavier than the rest, like he truly meant it, and you looked down at your hands as you fought off the blush threatening to rise on your cheeks.

in an hour you’d been through a whirlwind of makeup, dresses and jewels. orange, blue, black and all, you loved each one but for some reason after the four of them discussed you’d always be taken out of it.

it wasn’t until you were placed in an off the shoulder, floor length, white dress that you remained in it. and as you looked in the mirror you couldn’t help but stare. your hair was pinned up again, and small flowers were placed throughout. you felt like a princess and finnick agreed. you hadn’t even noticed that your stylists were gone until you heard the door shut.

it was just you and finnick.

“you look incredible.” finnick whispered, he was behind you now. his hand had a mind of its own as it placed a stray hair behind your ear. you turned your head his way, “really?” your voice was so soft and doused in disbelief. if he wasn’t next to you he wouldn’t have heard you. his hand trailed along your neck as he placed your hair behind, he nodded. “i have something for you.”

he pulled out a small seashell, and your eyes lit up, “oh finnick.” you sighed as he placed it in your hands. “it reminded me of you, small, gorgeous.” you looked up at him with doe eyes and he felt like grabbing you and taking you away.

you were breathtaking and you looked at him as if he was god.

“thank you finn, do you mind maybe putting it in my hair?” he took the trinket and placed it above your ear, entangling in with your hair. your heels were on but untied so finnick got onto his knees before patting his knee. he grabbed the straps before tieing them. his fingertips worked quickly and his face was concentrated. he was done and he looked up at you before turning you to the mirror.

finnicks hands were on your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper, “all done, you look perfect sweetheart.” you turned before reaching up on your tiptoes, “thank you finnick!” you kissed him on his nose before turning back and finnick grinned, “aren’t you cute?” he stood behind you, attached like a shadow. your skin felt soft underneath his fingertips and he couldn’t help but wander. down your arms, to your waist, he could feel you tensing up underneath him and he could feel his face trying to fight off his smirk.

“finnick?” you breathed out, “what’re you doing?” your voice was small, and unsure. “tell me to stop.” you should. you should tell him to stop. but all you could think about was finnicks hands and how good they felt.

“it’s time!” damian shouted out as you peeled away from finnick to open the door. damian was all too happy to see you as he clapped his hands together. “ah, my special girl you are truly an angel.” finnick knew that. finnick has already said that. finnick had you in his arms and oh so close and this idiot took you away. his sweet girl.

finnick was wondering where his trident was so that he could impale him through the stomach.

“come on y/n.” he ushered you out the door but you managed to slip another look at finnick and all you saw was pure rage.

the interview went well, in your eyes at least.

caesar was as upbeat as usual and it did mostly centre around your dress and looks but you felt you could try your best to use it to your advantage.

the audience was enamoured and you felt you did your best. “and y/n, tell us, what’s your secret strategy for the games? any tricks up your sleeve?” you patted his knee before pointing at him jokingly, “well caesar, it wouldn’t be a secret if i divulged now would it?” everyone loved your answer and caesar doubled over, “aren’t you cheeky! isn’t our diamond here so playful? but a sweetheart nonetheless!” the crowd agreed loudly.

“now, since you came out i think we’ve all been wondering where that seashell came from. it doesn’t exactly match the theme of your outfit.” you could hear the murmurs from the crowd agreeing with his words.

“am i right in suspecting a certain blonde mentor of yours?” you pursed your lips and a giggle began to form as caesar pumped his fist in the air, “i think we got it! can we expect the two of you together once you win?” you’d never even had a boyfriend and here you were being put together with the finnick odair, you were sure everyone could tell how giddy you were.

you felt as if you had a million eyes on you, your whole body was heating up as you buried your head in your hands. “ah we caught her out! someone’s got a crush! but then again it’s finnick odair so don’t we all?” a bunch of cheers erupted as you beamed.

“well it was a wonderful to meet you, truly! our diamond here, y/n l/n!” screams and shouts directed your way came in full force as you waved at caesar and blew kisses to all. as you walked back you bumped into someone.

“y/n right?” the boy from three, theo.

you nodded and stuck your hand out, “nice to meet you!” he looked down at your hand and back up at you before laughing, “very formal, i like it. i’m theo, your dress is nice but i think the girl wearing it is breathtaking.” you giggled before tucking your hair behind your ear.

finnick stood with the other mentors and held himself back from shoving haymitch out the way to get him to stop rambling on. his grip on his glass was solid, so it wasn’t a surprise when it shattered. “oh my!” effie yelled out as finnick apologised before someone came to clean it up. he stepped around the person before excusing himself to get to you.

you were laughing, hard. what in panem was so funny?

you were wiping tears away from your eyes as finnick joined the two of you, his hand on your back as theo nodded at him, “finnick.” he hated him. why the hell did theo speak as if he knew him personally? his smug face was unbelievably irritating. “finnick! how’d i do?” and the second you spoke he felt the anger dissipate, he adored the way you waited for his response as if it held all the answers.

“you did well.” finnicks answer felt snippy and made you feel as if you’d done something wrong. “we should get going.” he directed you away from the boy as you shouted out, “i’ll see you around!”

the entire elevator ride was, to put it lightly, awkward. it left you feeling confined in what little space you and finnick had. “finn? are you okay?” you placed your hand on his arm and stood in-front of him. you were hoping he’d explain what was wrong but what you didn’t expect was to be pushed against the side of the elevator and finnick kissing you. his hand was on your waist again and he shuffled your dress up, slithering underneath.

you moaned in his mouth, his hands playing and gripping at your ass. in reaction, your fingers thread through his hair and your grip tightened, “finn- not here.” the elevator was glass and you were scared of people seeing. finnick found it hard to care, drunk off your perfume. in a panic, you pulled away from him, your hands cradling his face to make him listen. “i’ve… never,” the whisper hung over the both of you, the tension in the air thick and hot.

instead of being met with judgment, he murmured, “i’ll make it good for you, i promise.” finnick had finally gotten a taste, and he could only crave more. his lips met your neck, his warm tongue painting wet desire into your skin. it was almost too much for little old you, letting out quiet whimpers as he explored you. his sleeves were rolled and you needed to ground yourself, your nails dug into his veiny arms. “finn-” you protested but he could tell you didn’t want to. just a little longer and he could get you to give in. “just let me feel you.”

the elevator stopping brought the two of you back as you fixed your dress and finnick fixed his own hair, running his hands through it. he directed you out of the elevator and nodded in acknowledgment to the people entering. as you walked onto your floor you were met with servants, stylists and others. it seems damian and analise had taken it upon themselves to invite some friends and you were eager to meet them.

whereas finnick wanted to rip your dress off and take you till the morning.

the same dainty hands which were running all over him were shaking others and waving as you all sat down to eat. as everyone feasted away you couldn’t help but play with your own meal. you were flushed and all you wanted was to kiss finnick again. he was sitting next to you and wasn’t hungry for food, he wanted to eat something else.

your dress didn’t hide much of your chest and when you reclined in your seat, crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts?

finnick needed to see more.

the clattering of his fork on the floor drew the attention of some, but they went back to their conversations and bets. “i’ll get it for you.” you pushed back your seat and got down to your knees, flicking up the tables sheet and searched around for it before hitting cold metal. you reached your hand out with the fork to finnick. his cock was throbbing at the image of you on the floor, chest on display and a sweet smile on your face. he bent down and grinned, “you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

his words went straight down between your legs and your mouth fell open at his words.

such vulgar words from such a beautiful man.

his hand came down to close your jaw. you felt, weird. as you sat back on your chair you felt warm? but a good warm? it was tantalising. you wondered if it was normal.

finnick would tell you right?

“finnick.” his head turned your way, “what is it y/n?” you leaned closer and so did he, your hands cupped around his ear, “i feel weird.” his eyebrows shot up as a sign of interest, “oh? what’s wrong honey? where do you feel weird?” you gulped, your throat felt dry and for some reason it felt dirty to talk about.

your eyes drifted downwards and as you looked up finnicks eyes seemed darker. “here?” his touch was soft on your thigh underneath the table as you gasped.

“everything all right dear?” sarah questioned as you nodded. it felt so good, his touch. but it wasn’t exactly where needed, his hand trailed closer and higher, until it was gone. your head snapped up at him as he smirked at you, mocking you.

for the rest of the night he didn’t even pay attention to you. and you had no clue why.

you couldn’t sleep after the day you had and all your mind was thinking of was finnick. finnicks hands, his arms, his mouth, his words.

“i don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

“yes, here.”

“i’ll make it so good for you.”

“just let me feel you.”

“you look good on your knees sweetheart.”

your room was too quiet, making it unchallenging for your thoughts to run wild at the anticipation of finnick odair. you couldn’t bear it, so you left to the busiest room you could think of.

your leg was shaking up and down and your mind was pacing whilst your body couldn’t. the butterflies were practically knocking around in your stomach and you hoped perhaps finnick could help. he’d help you right? but he didn’t before. maybe he was just tired? you were so desperate for help and answers that you’d forgone knocking and walked right in.

only to be met with an extremely wet finnick odair.

by your luck your eyes were probably poking out of your head at the sight of him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was your first time being in the same room as a man so, naked? for the lack of a better word, he still had a very short towel wrapped around his bottom half. was it small? or did he make it look small?

“see something you like sweetie?” god his voice was so saccharine, how the hell did his voice work you up? “i- i wanted to t-talk.” and you were stuttering, great! he walked closer to you and you stepped back, all the way into his wall. “yeah? does my pretty girl wanna talk?” you nodded along dumbly as your breath quickened. “words sweetie, use your words.” you swallowed, “yes.”

his thumb caressed your cheek before brushing along your lips, “you sure you just want to talk?” and there they were, the butterflies. you shook your head, “no? what do you want?” you played with your night dress, “you?” it was a soft murmur and finnick wanted you to beg. he’d been pining after you since the second he saw you, it’s only fair right?

“where do you want me?” his words were hot in your ear, his body was wet and your white night dress was suddenly see through. his hand rested on your ass, “here?” you shook your head, “no?” his thumb brushed over your nipple as your nails pressed into his neck, pulling him into yours. your breath was heavy and he was unrelenting.

his hand moved from your ass to cup your front as you gasped, “here?” you nodding along dumbly, “please finnick, i’ve been wanting you for the whole day, i’ll be good for you i promise.” your words were music to his ears, “yeah? you’re gonna be good f’me?”

“yes, yes, yes.” you whined as you wrapped your arms around his neck. standing on your tiptoes as you bit your lip. “you gonna let me use you yeah? do whatever i want?” you were practically jumping up and down at this point, your tits with you. your straps were pushed down as your dress fell down to the floor. his cock was throbbing at the sight of you, he’d been waiting for this.

“then on your knees honey.” you were quick to obey as he pushed you down to the cold floor, his towel quickly ripped off, courtesy of you.

it was your first time doing anything sexual so any cock was bound to be big in your eyes. finnick loved the sight of you on your knees, innocent as ever. fully nude, hands slotted nicely between your thighs. he wanted to ruin you. he ran his hand along his dick, pumping it before resting the tip on your lips.

as if you were on auto-control, your lips parted to let him through. a salty taste flooded through your mouth as he cooed down at you.

“you’re doing so well for me.”

“pretty baby on her knees, who knew you’d be such a slut?”

your eyes flickered up at him as you moved your head forwards on your own accord. “fuck.” he groaned as you replaced his hands with yours.

he wanted to go easy on you.

but kitten licks at the tip and soft kisses weren’t doing it for him. you opened your mouth again, gaining confidence and feeding off of finnicks praises. his large hand placed on the back of your head, fingers spread out as he thrusted down your throat.

the sounds that filled his room were lewd. squelches and groans as you tried your best to keep going. your cheeks hollowed out as finnick guided you, “relax your throat, try breathe through your nose. if it’s too much just tap my thigh sweetie.”

you retracted, catching your breath as you gazed up at him whilst simultaneously blinking away the tears in your eyes but a few fell free. he couldn’t help but moan. your messy mouth mixed with your saliva and his pre-cum. “you think theo’s this big? you think he could make you choke on his dick?” you shook your head immediately.

his member felt cold without the warmth of your mouth, but he was feeling nice so he let you take a break. “too big for you sweetie?” you shook your head furiously, “naw is my baby tough?” you giggled as you wrapped your lips around him again, your tongue flat against the underside of his dick as he eased himself in. “ah- fuck.”

but he can only hold out for so long as he began to fasten his pace, chasing his high. your fingers dug into his thighs right under his ass, for some reason you seemed to have something to prove as you took him all the way. your moans egged him on as his hips thrust forwards, “so good f’me, my s-sweet girl.” his praises fueled you on as your nose met his naval. salty tears fell down your cheeks and finnick was in his right mind to lick them all up.

god you were better than he’d imagined. and trust him, he’d imagined a lot.

“swallow for me yeah? be a good girl and open wide.” thick cum coated your tongue as you gladly accepted. finnick proudly gazed upon your painted face. watery eyes, sticky face. all for him. you gulped it down before wiping off the remaining waste on your face, eyeing finnick up before licking it off your fingers.

“what happened to the diamond? only a whore for me right?” your fingers were wet as you pulled them out. “uh-huh.” your agreed as he pulled you up. “do you even know what that means?” he teased as you puckered your lips before shaking your head. “thought so, you wanna be good for me?” you nodded, “on the bed baby.”

you sat down on the bed as you waited for finnick to join you. he situated himself between your legs, running his hands along them. “lean back for me. you took me so well, you want me to make you feel good too?” your eyes widened at the idea, “yes please finn.” his hands reached up and rested under your breasts, “i don’t know if you’ve earned it honey.” your lips twisted into a slight frown, your waterline glazing over.

“i was! i did what you asked finn, please.”

he palmed your breast, massaging it softly as you threw your head back, “please. please keep going.” your begging was more than enough for him, his baby asked so nicely no?

“yeah? you like me playing with you?” incoherent babbles fell from your lips as finnicks mouth kissed your breast. his hand trailed down to feel you, and he was met with warm wetness. the moan you let out was ungodly, “finnick please! oh god it feels so- so good.” he couldn’t help admire you, eyes screwed shut, hands clutching the pristine white sheets.

“oh baby, can you be quiet for me? quiet for finn?” a string of ‘uh-huhs’ came from your mouth as finnick slid a finger into you, a tight fit. “oh my god!” you yelped before slamming your hand over your mouth. he was knuckle deep as he worked his finger in before curling it, then another, then another. his free hand was pushing your hips down into the mattress as your hips lifted upwards with every move he made.

“finnick, finnick. you feel so good.” you cried out as he retracted his fingers before curling them upwards. he knew exactly what to do, where to be, what to say. his name fell from your lips like a prayer and your nails raked down his back as he grunted.

now, finnicks fingers were one thing, but his mouth?

his tongue pressed against your clit and you swear you saw god, finnick was probably the god. his tongue flicked over your clit as his fingers entered your cunt again, the pressure in your stomach was building so high you were afraid of the fall.

a wave of pleasure fell over you as finnick talked you through it, “that’s it baby, let go.” he hovered over you as his fingers worked your cunt. your nails had bloodied his back, scratched raw. as you moved your fingers finnick hissed into your ear. “m’ sorry, m’ so so sorry.” your head was spinning and you wanted to rest, but apparently finnick had other ideas as he lowered himself to your core. your mind was hazy as your hand clutched the pillow your head laid on, the other twisted in his hair.

“what’re you doing?” finnicks green eyes pierced through you as he raised his head from in between your thighs. featherlight kisses trailed upwards to your pussy as your thighs twitched and closed around his head, still sensitive as ever. “just want a taste, clean you up.” he mumbled as he tongue breached your entrance and you were back where you were before.

this man was driven youd give him that.

“finn s’ too much, please.” your words were slurred as he delved inside. he couldn’t find it in himself to let up, you were so sweet, he just wanted a taste. so he kept going, his tongue, his hands, his words. if there was one thing you knew about finnick it was that he could talk anyone into anything. so you found yourself squirming underneath his strong arms, forearm pinning you down to the bed as he made your back arch and your toes curl.

“sweet baby, so sweet.” all attempts of getting away, only caused him to get annoyed with you, can’t you just lay down and let him ruin you? at this point it was for his pleasure rather than yours. your thighs were practically squeezing his head and neck but he kept going. you didn’t know where to put your hands, pulling his hair was no good. your hand somehow ended up on your clit, moving in a circular motion as the other palmed your breast.

each time he made you come you rested your head, energy depleted. but again he ended up between your legs and pathetic pleas from you did nothing to make him stop.

“wanna make you feel good.”

“just one more, you can take it sweetheart.”

when your fourth rolled around you were so far gone. “pretty baby, not a single thought up there huh?” you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond, and he didn’t expect you to. he brushed away the stray hairs from your face and kissed you passionately. “you did so well f’me honey. made me proud, you got one more in you for me?” it wasn’t a question, his dick was painfully hard and he only knew of one solution.

you tiredly shook your head, “no more finny.” he grinned, “no? you don’t want my cock?” your breath hitched at his words and you knew you were fucked. “mhm. want it.” you were reduced to one to two words in a sentence.

“yeah you do. on your knees baby.” you tiredly rolled over, situating yourself on your knees and the palms of your hands as finnick kneaded your ass. his hands grazed over the skin before-

smack!

“think you should be able to see yourself baby.” his hand yanked at your hair as you found your reflection glaring back at you. “so pretty, aren’t you?” finnick knew you were horrible at accepting compliments and he was more than happy to use it against you.

smack!

you’d taken too long to answer, but based on finnicks smug expression you could tell he was hoping for it. “you have to answer baby.” finnicks arm came across your waist, pulling you up, flush with his chest as his hands pawed at your chest.

“you wanna be my baby yeah?” you could only manage moans and finnick was not happy. he threw you forwards as you caught yourself with your hands infront of you.

smack!

“fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” he taunted you as he dragged his cock in between your drenched folds. finnicks groans were deep, and so hot. “you know how long i wanted to fuck you baby? in that short skirt on the train? when you licked up that cream? my girls dirty huh?” you didn’t respond and it only fuelled his fire, he’d wanted you for so long and now you had the audacity to ignore him?

he thrusted into you without warning and you screamed out. “want to act like a slut? i’ll treat you like one. fuck!” your walls were squeezing down on him, sucking him in and he was more than happy to oblige. his hips snapped against your ass as you gripped onto the sheets for dear life. his grip on your hips bruised, leaving a fiery impression in their wake. finnick had stamina for days, he was strong and built. you were small and fragile, finnick was glad to be the one to break you in.

he pulled you up to him again as he kissed you frantically, capturing your bottom lip in between his teeth. he was relentless in his pursuit for his high, he marked up any place he could as he continued to drive into you with determination.

“bet you dreamed of this, of me.” his hand gripped your throat, his eyes bore into your own, finnick was inescapable. every touch, every thrust, all him. you were enveloped in his being and he worshipped yours. finnick continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls. he was deep inside but he wanted to be deeper. “yes! yes! harder!” you cried out.

his hand pressed down onto your stomach, “feel that?” his breath was prominent by your ear, “oh god!” you exclaimed, it felt as if you were filled to the brim as he bottomed out in you. thick, hot cum released into you as his and your moans were raising in pitch and his hips began to stutter.

the room was filled with the sound of slapping skin, the promise of silence forgotten. “let go baby, you’re close. let go.” the two of you had eachother and it was more than enough. his groans were deep and animalistic as he spilled himself inside you. your hand reached behind you to caress his neck. thank yous spilled out from you, your whole being was ignited, you never knew you could feel so good.

the two of you lied together, entangled in sheets and a mess of limbs. you couldn’t tell where finnick odair began and y/n l/n started. all you knew was that he was yours, and you were his.

you’d fallen asleep a bit ago, your chest rising and falling steadily. finnicks arm curled around you as you rested on his chest. from the moonlight spilling into his room he could view the bruises tattering your smooth skin. as he traced over them he couldn’t help but grin, he could imagine you limping in the arena.

you sure as hell weren’t forgetting him anytime soon.

[yuyusbabygirl]

Darling Mine

pairing: yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2.35k

content warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Yunho, sub!reader, reader is tied up, oral (fem receiving), choking, safe sex, slight possessiveness, aftercare

summary: You spend the night at your boyfriend's place for the first time and he really likes it when you wear his clothes

You wake up alone in Yunho’s bed. He must’ve already gotten up. As you lay there, you think back to last night. It was the first night you spent at your boyfriend’s apartment after dating for a month. You both decided to take things slow.

“I want to do this right. I plan to spend the rest of my life with you so we have all the time in the world,” he said to you when you asked why he had never tried to initiate anything sexual.

Truth be told, it had scared you. You had never been with a guy so honest about his intentions, so all in. You thought he simply might not want you in that way. He sure proved you wrong last night. He had taken you out on a date because you had both not seen each other for a week due to work. Yunho had taken you on a picnic in the park where he had first met you. You had both talked for hours, catching up on each other’s lives, feeding each other bits of food. A sudden rain shower had forced you two to run to his apartment, giggling the whole way. You were both drenched when you arrived. You had stood in his hallway, breathing heavily as you looked at each other. Yunho had walked to you, taking you into his arms and slowly started kissing you. You undressed each other carefully and he carried you to his bed.

As you lay there now, still naked, you couldn’t help but touch your lips. You remember how softly he kissed you, like you were the most precious thing he had ever touched. A soft giggle escapes you. He was soft and gentle the whole night, constantly praising you, bringing you over the edge multiple times before he even thought of his own pleasure. It was unusual for you. Not that guys before him had been horrible in bed, you just never had sex with a guy that cared so much about your pleasure than his own. You had fallen asleep in his arms for the first time and as you lay there now you decide you never want to sleep anywhere else again.

Deciding you can’t lay in bed forever, you sit up. You look around Yunho’s room but remember how you stripped off in the hallway. You see his favorite flannel hanging over his gaming chair and put it on. It is already oversized on Yunho so you completely drown in it. But it is soft and it smells like him.

You make your way to the kitchen where you see Yunho struggling with the frying pan. Oh no, he’s trying to cook. Bad idea. He had tried to cook for you for your second date and burned the rice. You have no idea how someone can burn rice but you decided that Yunho should never cook again.

“Hey, you really think you should be cooking? We both know what happened last ti-“ you did not get to finish your sentence because as soon as you spoke Yunho looked up and saw you. Tousled hair from last night, his hickeys still on your neck. And you in his clothes. Before you could reprimand him more for attempting to cook he was on you. He grabbed your face and kissed you, pushing you back against the wall.

The kiss was messy and desperate. A stark contrast to last night. Last night he wanted to be soft and gentle because it was your first night together. He had no mind for soft and gentle now after seeing you in his clothes. You looked so fucking tiny. So fucking soft. And so fucking his.

One of his hands moves from your face to your hair, roughly tugging it back so he could deepen the kiss, while the other moves to your bare thigh. He slides his hand upwards and let out a possessive growl when he realizes you were naked underneath. He had always known that he was possessive over you. The first time he gave you his jacket when you were cold he nearly threw his promise of taking things slow out the window. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in his favorite flannel, walking out of his bedroom after he made love to you the whole night.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carries you back to his bed. His lips never leave yours, messily licking into your mouth, swallowing your mewls that went straight to his cock.

As he throws you down his bed you gasp and look up at him. You had suspected that there was more to your lovely boyfriend than this sweet and gentle façade. As you lay there breathlessly he looks down at you, his expression dark with a possessive glint that you had seen in his eyes once or twice before. But he had always covered it up very quickly. It seems he was finally done holding back.

You go to undo the buttons of the flannel before he stops you.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he grunts out. His low tone and the dominance in his eyes make your stomach flip.

Fuck, how was he supposed to hold back when you looked at him like that? Wide eyes, lips parted. So submissive and all for him. He slowly crawled on top of you, keeping eye contact.

“You will keep my shirt on while I fuck you. You will not hold back any noises and you will do as I say. Understood?” he demands.

You nod.

“Use your words,” he snarls as he grips your jaw.

“Yes, Yunho,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he drawls as he pats your face.

This new side of him made you incredibly wet. You had always enjoyed being told what to do in bed but Yunho was so effortlessly dominant that it took all your strength not to fall too hard into subspace. Another time. When you both talked about your limits more.

“Give me your wrists,” he holds out his hand as he waited for you to comply. You offer him your wrists and he pushed them above your head before you felt rope around them. He ties them quickly to his headboard and looks down at you, satisfied.

He leans in and kisses you again, rougher than before. His mouth moves to your ear where he whisperes “If you want me to stop, say goldfish.”

You hum in agreement and he begins licking and biting at your neck, determined to give you new marks. His hand grips your hair again and pulls your head back so abruptly that you cry out.

“Yes, let me hear you. Fuck, let the whole neighborhood hear how good I am making you feel, that you’re mine,” he chuckles in your ear.

He sits back on his heels and roughly grips your thighs before spreading them. The sight of your wet cunt elicits a growl from him. He couldn’t wait to fuck you again. He leans down to your cunt and licks a long stripe through your folds. The moan you let out nearly sends him over the edge. You throw your head back, tugging at the restraints.

“Look at me,” he barks at you.

You look down into his eyes. His expression is full of lust as he licks you again, not letting you look away. You try to close your legs around his head but his grip on your thighs is too strong.

You whine as he continues to lick at your pussy before he suddenly sucks on your clit. Your back flies off the bed as you let out a high pitched moan of his name. You can feel him grunt into your pussy, pleased by your reaction. Yunho grips your thighs tighter as he hikes them up further and pushes them towards your chest. The position leaves your cunt pressed up to his face as he continues to devour you. You can feel your climax approaching fast and hard but before you can reach it he pulls away.

“Noo, please,” you whine and feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as he steals your orgasm.

He chuckles darkly at your pathetic whines. He waits until you stop twitching before continuing his assault on your pussy. He licks between your folds with vigor and looks straight at you when his teeth close slightly around your clit. The tears you let out make his cock twitch. He had never seen a prettier sight. He runs his tongue over your clit but pulls away as he feels the telltale twitches of your approaching orgasm.

“Please, please let me cum,” you cry as he steals yet another orgasm from you.

“I decide when you cum. Now take what I give you,” he grins at you sadistically before attaching his mouth back to your cunt.

You can’t hold back the mewls and tears as Yunho robs you of yet another orgasm. By the fourth denied orgasm you’re a complete mess. Tears are streaming down your face, drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth and you’re pretty sure the sheets underneath you are soaked.

“Beg,” he commands.

“Please, Yunho. Please, I need to cum. I can’t take it anymore, please. Please, I need you. Please, please,” you beg him, words slurring together.

“Fuck, you’re so good for me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you cum,” he strokes your face and you could weep in relief, “but you’ll do it on my cock”.

Yunho moves back up your body, running his hand over your stomach and boobs, still hidden by his flannel and another surge of possessiveness flows through him. He shrugs off his shirt and boxers and you pull at your restraints, wanting to touch him.

He leans over you to get a condom from his nightstand and rolls it onto his length. He had to stretch you out last night to ensure you can take him but with four orgasms denied from you, you are more than ready to take him now.

He puts your legs over his shoulders as he lines himself up with your cunt. You whine as he rubs his tip over your clit and he chuckles, “What is it, princess?”.

“Please, Yunho. Fuck me,” you moan out.

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets,” he mutters before thrusting into you. He growls and grunts as he feels your tight cunt gripping him and before you can warn him you cum on his cock.

His mouth opens in awe and he watches you twitch around him.

“Shit, baby. One thrust and you cum already? Are you that desperate?” he coos at you in fake sympathy, knowing fully well how needy you were. He doesn’t give you time to come down from your high and immediately sets a rough pace. His hand goes to your throat, not squeezing just yet. His thrusts are deep and hard and you try hard not to scream. His hand on your throat makes everything feel more intense and you want him to choke you but can’t form any coherent sentence. You tighten your legs around his waist, already feeling another orgasm coming. The only word you can form is his name which only fuels his need to make you cum again.

“Give me another, pretty girl. I know you can cum again for me. You were so desperate to cum just now so fucking do it,” his low growls make it impossible not to comply and you hold on to the ropes tied around your wrists as you cum again.

“That’s it. Just like that. Fuck, you’re so good for me, my princess. All for me. Say it,” he squeezes your throat as he continues his hard and unforgiving pace.

“F-fuck, y-yours, Yunho. All y-yours,” you stutter out, not able to speak correctly with his hard strokes and his hand around your throat.

Your moans and tears nearly make him cum but he’s determined to make you cum one more time. He brings a hand to your cunt and begins rubbing your clit hard and fast. You squeal so loudly that he’s sure the neighbors can hear you but that only fuels his need to make you scream.

“Cum again. Cum for me, my pretty girl,” he bites out, holding back from cumming just yet.

His ministrations on your clit, his hard thrusts, his voice and the sight of him all sweaty above you lead to you cumming harder than you did before. You whimper out his name, not even able to scream anymore. As he feels you cum again, he quickly pulls out and pulls the condom off. He strokes himself and shoots onto your pussy and lower stomach, some of it getting onto his flannel. The sight of you in his flannel and now covered in his cum nearly make him hard again. He collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard. Yunho nuzzles his nose into your neck, softly kissing you before reaching up and untying your wrists. He takes you into his arms and holds you close.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, softly rubbing your wrists. You nod, tired but happy. “You need to tell me if I was too rough with you,” he looks at your face, searching for any sign of subdrop. You smile at him and put your hand on his cheek.

“You were perfect, Yunho,” you reassure him. He relaxes and peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle. He presses one last kiss to your nose before getting up and bringing a cloth so he can clean you up. You sigh softly as he wipes up both of your cum from between your legs.

“I did not know wearing your clothes would have this effect on you,” you say as you watch him dutifully clean you. He chuckles a bit as he finishes up and tosses the cloth to the side.

“What can I say, I’m crazy about you,” he says before he kisses you lovingly.

hope you like it, thoughts are always welcome

[reidmania]

KILL FOR YOU | spencer reid

summary ; one time Spencer wanted to propose and the one time he did.

warnings; fem reader, mentions of injuries, protective Spencer, reader gets hurt by an unsub, spencer beats said unsub, normal criminal minds stuff, angst if you drink vodka, hit ur head then squint a little. they are so in love

an; this was gonna be 2 times spencer wanted to propose and the one time he did but i couldnt be fucked writing it. NOT PROOF READ.

this gif is my fav ever bc he is so bloody cute oh my gosh

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

“Hey spence.”

It rolled off your tongue simply, easily like nothing. Like it was made to leave your lips. The little nickname, the sweet tone so gentle without intention. Spencer had grown to love it more and more everyday.

Your hand fell gently on the top of his shoulders, Spencer could feel the indent of your rings over his sweater — the one he wore often after you mentioned it was one of your favourites on him.

“Hi honey” He turned in his chair to face you. You had been busy doing case work all day with Emily and unfortunately she deemed Spencer too much of a distraction to be around, so he was sent away sulking for the last three and a half hours.

His eyes met your face and his lips tugged up into a smile. How could he help it when you looked so beautiful. Your hair tied back into a ponytail, a simple fleece sweater of his folded upwards enough to look like it didn’t completely bag on you, over a simple black skirt. It stunned him how you made his home clothes look so professional and good. 

“I missed you” He said, taking ahold of your hand in his. Letting the warmth of your skin raise the heat in his own — although skin to skin contact from wasn’t necessary to raise his body temperature. Just you being around was enough. He would see you from across the room, laughing or smiling and his stomach would flush with warmth. It was inevitable.

You giggled — god he loved the sound. “Your hands are freezing.” You muttered as you interlaced your fingers from his, despite the comment you relished in the small contact you two shared. You tried to keep it professional at work as much as possible.

“Warm them up?” He suggested innocently tilting his head to the side as his gazed remained fixated on your face. He couldn’t pull his eyes away even if he wanted to — which he didn’t.

You smiled and squeeze your fingers around his hand. “I missed you too.” You said back — replying to his earlier comment. He adored that, how to often got sidetracked, over excited and distracted jumping from topic to topic without even realising you were doing it before finishing your sentence. He loved that about you, he watched and adored you every time, no matter what you were saying, or how much he sat there and listened to every word.

“How did you go?” He asked, he subconsciously swung your arms softly as he spoke, eyes locked onto yours. He didn’t needed to explain what he meant — he was talking about how you went getting on with the work. He knew you understood that.

You hummed, other hand straying to fidget and pick up things at his desk. Normally people touching his stuff and messing it about would annoy him — but it didn’t bother him the slightest when it came to you.

“It went good — once we were distraction free” You muttered before turning your head back to face him, he noticed the teasing smile on your face instantly.

He snorted, “Once you were distraction free. Emily was fine” He said.

You shook your head, “She was distracted by my distraction. You are very distracting Spencer Reid” You pointed out, hand leaving his desk to poke the top of his nose gently. Spencer scrunched up his face at the touch but the smile remained on his lips.

“Oh! I was thinking about dinner, maybe we could get take out tonight? I saw a new Chinese takeout spot on the way to work tod- I also saw the cutest puppy earlier, we should get a puppy spence, just a little one” You cut yourself off in the way he already expected you to.

“We can try it tonight” He said fondly, “And we can speak more about the dog thing later” He said. He loved animals but he didn’t know how he felt about having a dog in his house, the amount of germs they would track inside the house set an unsettling bundle of nerves in his stomach, but he knew if you wanted it there was nothing more he would do then get you it.

Your face lit up, he felt his chest swarm.

Yeah definitely worth the germs.

You audibly yay’d. Spencer felt his chest rise and fall as the all familiar thought ran through his head. His hand reached into his pocket to fiddle with the small box in his pocket. He knew deep down it was stupid to carry it around all the time but he couldn’t help it.

He didn’t want to plan the perfect moment — he wanted it to be the perfect moment. He wanted it to feel perfect when he proposed, not be made to feel perfect. Grand gestures weren’t him, and it wasn’t you. But he wanted it to feel right.

Right now, the look on your face, the feeling in his chest was one of those moments where he couldn’t get the idea out of his head, he couldn’t stop himself for thinking about how gorgeous you would look walking down the aisle towards him. He couldn’t stop picturing spending the rest of his life with you.

He said your name, causing you to look back at him from where your gazed was fixated on your intertwined hands. His tone was hesitant and nervous but you made every nerve worth it.

His fingertips wrapped the velvet box, “I-“ His hand paused when your head swung around at the sound of your name. Seeing Emily calling you.

“Emily!!” You said excitedly, “Me and Spence are getting a dog!” You cheered as you looked over at her, your smile bright and wide as you once again got distracted subconsciously.

The slight disappointment slipped away in moments as Spencer watched you smile excitedly. He knew you were probably playing the idea out in your head.

“Maybe.” He reminded — but he knew he would give in.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you looked back on him. “—Probably?” you negotiated, raising your eyebrow hopefully. He chuckled shaking his head before sighing. “Probably.” He agreed.

“I love you” You leant down to place a quick, simple and sweet kiss on his lips before you bounced away to continue your conversation with Emily as she reminded you that there was still more work to do.

Spencer tapped his fingers against the velvet material in his pocket, licking his lips chastely as he tried to push the thought from his mind. Turning back to face his computer screen he let out a soft sigh.

It would be perfect.

“Where is she?” Spencer pushed through a group of people, eyes wide and mind a completely and utter mess. The only thing he could focus on was you. He had zero regard for the people he shoved out of the way trying to get to Hotch.

His looked around — trying to find any glimpse of you possible as he stood in front of Hotch. He was scared — he was absolutely terrified and he couldn’t see you anywhere. “Where is she?” He repeated

He felt Hotch’s hand on his shoulder which normally he would find comforting but he flinched away from it. “Reid.” Hotch said, his tone gently but still holding the stern component that never seemed to leave.

He was trying to be respectful he really was but his mind was apanic. “Hotch, Where the fuck is she?” He hardly swore but it slipped out as he avoided holding eye contact with the older man, scared maybe he might burst into tears as his chest felt unbearably tight.

“Shes with the paramedics, she’s in a lot of pain— Reid.” Spencer didn’t stay to listen to the rest of what his boss had to say, instead walking off towards the ambulance through the crowd of people.

He was panicked beyond belief. His hands hadn’t stopped shaking his he heard that you were down. He was pissed that Emily and you decided to split up while searching around the house, only ending with you being grabbed from behind, pushing you so hard against the wall that when you hit it — you were knocked out.

The minute Emily found you around the other side she was telling everyone over her speaker, Spencer was rushing outside of the house he had been checking with Derek and his feet were moving faster than his brain could compute. His hands were shaking when he came in contact with the unsub, who immediately went for him.

Spencer was unable to help himself, his hands didn’t reach for his gun instead he pushed the man up against the wall, like the unsub previously had done to you — only his fist found their way to the unsubs face, over, and over, and over again until it was nothing more than a bloody mess.

He had little injury from the unsub, he endured a few hits to the face which did nothing more than leave his nose and lip bloody but he couldn’t of cared less about that when all his mind could think about was you.

He was pushed away by Derek, and the unsub taken into custody by Rossi and Emily after Emily had called the paramedics for you. He fought Derek briefly trying to get his hands back on the unsub.

“You could have had a murder charge” derek had said, finally somewhat calming Reid down once the Unsub was taken away. Spencer remembers thinking nothing more than how much he wanted that man dead — he had never really wished that on anyone.

“He should be dead.” Was all Spencer had replied before walking off.

His eyes landed on you, sitting with a blanket over your shoulders in the back of an ambulance, leaning on the side of it with your knees pulled up to your chest, hand held to the back of your head holding what he could only assume was an ice pack.

He called your name as his feet rushed towards you before they stopped right in front of you. You met his eyes and he could’ve swore his heart had shattered into a million different pieces at the sight of tears in your eyes.

“Oh baby” He cooed as his hands hovered slightly over your side. He was scared to touch you, scared to hurt you more than you had already been hurt. His chest was tightening more and more and he found it hard to breathe.

“Im okay” You pushed out, but your voice was contradicting your words as it cracked slightly. You almost lunged towards him letting your head bury itself in his chest, arms wrapping themselves around his waist. He took it as an okay to touch you, his arms immediately wrapping around you as he stood in-between your legs.

“Im sorry” He whispered, hand running up to your hair to smooth it out gently, hands careful over the bloody spot in your hair. You shook your head but stopped as it only sent a throbbing sensation throughout it. You pulled your head away and Spencer moved to sit beside you.

“You don’t have to apologise” You said softly, hand coming up to wipe a tear from your cheek. Spencer’s hand stayed on your back. “Im okay. Really.” You reassured.

“I should’ve been there, someone should’ve been there.” He said, shaking his head. He was holding back the urge to scold the stupidity it took to separate yourself and Emily in a situation but he knew deep down you were just doing what he thought was right — and he could hardly think about that when you were sitting here with that look in your eye.

“Wh- What the hell” you muttered as you looked over his face. For some reason the state of him didn’t register when you first saw him, maybe it was because of the tears blurring your vision or maybe the fact you were just in relief that he was there, but now you did as your entire chest fell.

“Im sorry” He apologised again. “I was so— I was so angry, I was scared” He said, He watches the way your face falls into something he can only explain as panic and guilt. He hated the way you looked guilty.

“Spence..” You sighed, grabbing ahold of his hand gently, thumb rubbing back and forth of his soft skin. He relished in your touch. His eyes closed as he tried to neglect the burning sensation in the back of his throat and bridge of his nose that came as a warning sign for the tears brewing in the back of his eyes.

“I wanted to kill him” Spencer said, his voice cracking as the lump grew in his throat. He despised the way it gave him away. He didn’t want to be in this position — he was supposed to be the one comforting you, not the other way around.

“That would only get you in trouble baby” You said gently. The headache subsided slightly as your head filled with nothing more than Spencer. An unfamiliar feeling filled your stomach as it dawned on you that Spencer would quite literally kill for you.

“He hurt you” Was the best Spencer could muster up. And to him it was enough of a reason.

An unfamiliar feeling filled your stomach as it dawned on you that Spencer would quite literally kill for you. Your hand tightened around his as you turned your body to face him more. Your hand leaving his to cup his face in your hands.

A frown tugged on your lips and Spencer groaned at the way tears ran down his cheeks. He tried to pull his face away from your hands in-order to hide it in his own, but yours stayed around his face.

“Oh baby.” Spencer’s chest tightened as your thumb dragged the softest against his cheeks wiping away stray tears. “It’s apart of the job baby. We both know that, theres always a risk of us getting hurt. But I’m right here yeah? Im okay.” You cooed gently.

It dawned on him in that moment at your words. Of course before he knew there was a risk — he was well aware of that but now he completely understood it. He understood how much he needed you, how much he would do for you.

He realised there was no life for him without you in it.

He said your name, his tone clear, you raised your eyebrow with a quick nod. You repeated his name but his mind was elsewhere unable to process it as he stared at your face.

Perfect or not. There wasn’t ever gonna be a moment where he felt like he needed to do this more. He needed to be your husband. He needed the future with you. He needed this and he needed this now.

“Marry me.” He said, it wasn’t how he wanted it to come out but his lips worked faster than his mind. He watched your eyes widen, your brows furrow in confusion as your lips parted before shutting again.

“W-What?” You muttered.

“Marry me.” He repeated, “Please. I don’t want to spend another day wondering if we will get a future together. I don’t ever want to endure this again without you being my wife. I want everyday with you, I want the arguments and the bad days, I want the long nights and the kids. I want you, today, tomorrow and every day after that. I want to marry you, I want to be your husband” He ranted.

Your eyes widened as he rambled on as tears rushed all the way back in your eyes from where they had subsided.

“I can’t lose you. I am so in love with you, it hurts. It hurts so please—“ He sighed, “Marry me.”

You were at a loss for words and Spencer almost expected that. This wasn’t how he wanted to do it, but he didn’t think he could go another day without asking you.

“Im sorry, I know this is probably the worse time possible” His fingers tugged at the box in his pocket, pulling it out. He used his other hand to open it. Your eyes fell from his onto the ring sitting inside the black velvet box. It was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning and so you.

“I wanted it to be perfect, I have been waiting but I cant w-”

“Yes.” You said, cutting him off as you pulled your eyes away from the ring back to his face. “God- Yes- Spencer” Your voice was quiet and breathy.

His eyes widened. “Wh- really?” He almost expected you to shut him down.

“Are you stupid?” He knew it wasn’t serious because everyone knew Spencer Reid was a lot of things — but he was not stupid.

“Of course I will marry you!” You lunged towards him, pressing your lips against his. Unable to even care about the headache beating against the back of your skull as all you could feel was him.

He smiled into the kiss, deepening it as his hands tugged against your waist, pulling you in closer to him. He pulled away for a moment to take the ring out of the box, grabbing ahold of your hand he slid the ring on — it fit perfectly.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gaze returning to your face as he remembered you were infact still injured.

You beamed at him, “Im happy. Spence Im really happy” You said, unable to focus on anything else.

Spencer smiled back. “I love you”

[lalunanymph]

୨⎯ 🖤⎯୧ 𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐃É𝐌𝐎𝐍

driven by a desperate need to uncover the truth behind your visions after the chaos at the auction, you strike a deal with sylus to unlock more of your memories… only to discover far more than what you bargained for

𓇢𓆸 MONSTERFUCKING, explicit smut with sylus in his demon form, cumflation, predicament bondage (he ties you up with his evol), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, nightmare landscapes, references to GOETHE'S "FAUST" AND HADES imagery for my rendition of sylus' origin, religious imagery, sacrilege, mentions of food, mentions of blood, mentions of death, reader goes insane, mentions of gore, mentions of violence, reader and sylus had a child together, sexy but it's also pretty angsty wbk, this is barely edited ... sorry ...

They say that no one understands human curiosity quite like a demon does.

Once angels with the entire heavens at their feet, their eyes now scorch the earth searching for souls to entrap and torture, striking deals in turn for pounds of flesh they devour once a mortal leaves the realm. 

Demons were cunning and ruthless creatures who struck fear into every heart they encountered; whose natural oozing charm and demeanor could convince even the most stalwart of men to sell their soul in exchange for a paltry consolation prize. 

In a way, Sylus reminds you of a demon. 

If it weren't for the deal you struck with him to bring you to the auction at the hotel, you wouldn't be stuck in this liminal situation where you know too much, but not enough.

After the incident at the Salon Hotel where your memories were coming back in pieces and fragments, frustration stole the last of your rationality and you all but begged the towering, intimidating lord of the N109 underworld to help you gain more of your recollections back.

At first, he had refused to do so with no reason given. 

But, just as you overestimate how stubborn he can be, he underestimates just how persistent you are in turn. 

Sitting across from him in nothing but a scarlet robe he had gifted you, the runny morning sunlight spilling across the mahogany table does nothing to warm you up from the inside out. You're still jittery from the explosion and the fight with that strange looking Wanderer, all while your lover (partner?) appears both nonchalant and nonplussed despite almost losing his life a few nights ago. 

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, sweetie."

Sylus finally puts down the book he's been reading for the past half an hour, peering at you over his glasses. 

You clear your throat and reach for the glass of pomegranate juice the personal chef had prepared, whetting your throat and your lips for what you have to say next.

"Sylus, it's been days since the last time we were at the hotel," you pause, biting your lower lip. "Don't you think I deserve an explanation of what happened? What I saw in those... flashbacks?" 

If you could even call them that.

The dagger in your hand. The blood stains on your fingers. A towering, dark figure whose touch was more familiar than you could ever believe. It all felt too real and tangible. 

Much, much too tangible. 

As much as you try to ignore it, bury your curiosity six feet under where you could never see it again, your innate Hunter instincts tell you there's something big he's not telling you. 

Something he can't tell you.

Sylus' exaggerated exhale grates your ears and he gives you a scrutinizing look all over.

"I told you—"

"You have no idea what set off those flashbacks, yeah, I heard," you bite back, seething.

A shadow of a grin teases the corners of his lips. "Seems like the little kitten has her claws ready. Whatever is bothering you, sweetie?" 

Bristling at his patronizing tone, your glare sharpens, your grip around the glass tightening. 

"I want to know the truth, Sy." You lean back in the chair and cross your arms. "The whole truth. And nothing but. Why did I have those visions? Why were you in them? Why can't my memories come back no matter how hard I try to remember?" 

You expect him to scoff or play elusive with you like he usually does. But, for the first time since you've met him, Sylus is wearing a pensive look, one which draws the angles of his face to look older than his 28 years of age. 

"Are you sure you want to know?" 

His voice is hoarser than you expect, and you perk up in disbelief.

"You-you're willing to tell me?" 

His crimson eyes flicker to the pomegranate juice in your hands.

"I would like to. But, it depends on if you can handle the truth, little bird." 

You squint at him through narrowed eyes, trying to uncover the ploy he has up his sleeve. Trusting Sylus didn't come naturally to you, though you did try for the sake of the Aether Core bond connecting you both. 

"I can handle it," you mutter decisively. "You've seen what happened after the hotel explosion—I can handle it."

The sunlight cascading behind you drenches half of his face in the shadows, a look of deep contemplation etched in his countenance. 

"Alright." He stands up, and without another moment to spare, rummages in his fridge, fishing out a whole pomegranate and peeling it with nimble, sure fingers. Your curiosity simmers to a boiling point when he taps out a handful of seeds, placing it in a bowl and pushing it right towards you.

"Eat up." 

Cautiously, you assess the blood red seeds, wondering if this was a test or some sort for him to evaluate you. 

“What is this?” 

Those crimson eyes glint with an unnamed emotion, and his expression remains unfathomable. Straightening to his full height, Sylus sauntered over to you, hands in his robe pockets; a teasing grin on his lips. He stops just shy of brushing his shins against your knees, and leans forward, broad shoulders blocking out the morning sunlight as he drenches you in the full shadows of his intentions and secrecy.

“You asked me to tell you the truth and I will. Consider these seeds a downpayment for what I’m about to reveal to you tonight.” 

Adrenaline spikes your veins, and your breathing hitches with excitement.

Is he really…?

Your thoughts trail off, and you hum, reluctantly picking up one perfectly round, juicy red globe. 

Faintly, your voice reaches him, soft and frayed with hesitancy. 

“And if I do this, will you tell me everything I want to know?” 

Striking a deal with Sylus is like striking a deal with the devil himself. You knew this—if it was too good to be true, there was something you had to give back in return. But… the idea of fully comprehending the horrible visions you saw is much too tempting. 

In answer, he cocks his head to one side, regarding you curiously like how a raven might, his mannerisms bringing to mind a scheming Mephisto. 

“Of course. When have I ever gone back on my deal?” 

The allure of knowing is too hard to resist. As you bite down on the pomegranate seeds, its sweet juices coating your tongue, you never thought succumbing to temptation could taste this good. 

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

It’s night somewhere in the recesses of your consciousness. 

You should be in your own bed in Sylus’ mansion, high thread count sheets pulled up to your chin, but instead, you’re barefoot in this abandoned colosseum, staring up at the towering effigies of old gods long departed from this world. The state of these statues are in ruin; fragments of faces and bodies missing as if they were alone were the lone survivors of a universe-changing explosion.

Only the sound of your breath and the rustle of your footsteps whispering across the stone floor touched your ears. Your guard is up, and you think you’re fully here alone when a presence makes itself known behind you. 

You feel his arms wrap around your torso, pulling you right to his chest. There is no need to turn around; you already know who it was.

Silver hair the color of snow shines in this drab, gray pantheon where old gods and a new world witness him getting to his knees, pressing his face right into your belly that, you realize with a jolt, is protruding slightly.

“I have missed you,” his familiar baritone sends sparks of longing down your spine, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, sighing deeply in contentment.

“My brother tried to keep me locked in the basement,” your words, though foreign to your own ears, felt right at this moment.

Sylus, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, kisses your stomach again, his yearning felt through his sigh when he caresses your hips with broad strokes of his large palms. “I only wish to be with you for the rest of my life.”

“That is my dearest wish, too,” you reply back in a shaky voice.

His smirk, though flashed centuries apart from the Sylus you know now, is still familiar and cheeky. 

“Run away with me,” he decided, straightening up to tangle his fingers with yours, squeezing your hands tightly. “Run away with me and let us forget this horrendous fate, my love.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, and you touch your belly, as if holding onto it for strength. “My love, my brother will be back and he will wonder where I am. It is not safe for you here. He knows what you have done to me—” your grip tightens further on your belly, “—and he wants his revenge for the grave error you have caused my family and I. You need to run—”

The touching scene is interrupted by a man clearing his throat. The both of you look up to find the wounded eyes of your brother searing through the two of you. 

“Sylus,” Valentine snarled, and your lover is quick to hide you behind his broad build, unsheathing his sword. 

“Do not harm her,” Sylus’ tone is low and menacing. “Your sister had no part in this debauchery. It is me you want.” 

Your brother's eyes, so similar to your own, flash with a hunger for Sylus’ end and he swings the sword first. A bloody fight ensues, one man battling for your honor and the other for your love. Your cries go unheard, as if they are alike to the stone statues observing these conflicts with a detached eye.

“Sylus—noooo!” 

His blade sinks into Valentine’s chest, cherry red blood spewing out onto the stone floors. You drop to your knees, cradling your belly in anguish as you cry out your brother’s name over and over again. Your brother’s blood seeps through your hands, staining your snowy white nightgown as you fail to staunch his life from leaving his shuddering body. 

He’s dead… oh gods… he’s dead… My last family member is dead!

Devastated, you run off barefoot into the night, rocks and dirt cutting through the delicate soles of your feet as you scream and cry like a madwoman. 

Sylus has killed my brother… he’s killed my mother…

This cursed child in your womb! 

You want nothing more than to pull it from the flesh of your being, leaving it straggling and dying for breath. You want nothing of Sylus in you—there is an absence of everything warm and good in your shivering chest. All you desire for is his demise from this world. 

Hurling yourself into an empty church, you stagger to the sanctuary, climbing the steps and crumble into a desperate, sobbing heap. 

Tears drip down to the stone floor, and your sobs echo around the vacant space. Saint Verona gazes down upon you, heavenly in her glow of flowing blonde hair and esoteric glare, stoic and silent, as if she too has abandoned you from God’s good graces. A bubbling laughter filled with nothing but terror and hysteria bounces across the church’s walls and you cackle, tearing at your hair, your clothes, fists raining down onto your belly as you try to rid yourself of the monster’s child. 

The scene changes. 

Scorching earth fills your nose, and in your hand, a dagger prevails. 

There’s a thundering of hooves, like a battalion of horses fighting in the distance, ringing through your hollow ears. The ground shakes and trembles from the force of the hundred horses, but when you look up, you see a familiar pair of red eyes burning through the dark mists surrounding him. 

His name comes to you in a flash.

Sylus.

Those crimson orbs seem to float through the smoky composition of his face, though if you look closer, you can see the translucent demonic skin stretching over his towering form appearing in fleeting instances—proof that he was once human. 

You glare at him, getting to your feet and wield the dagger, aiming it straight for his heart.

The second the pointed tip sinks into his chest, the world explodes in a shock of white light, and you’re back in the same, decrepit pantheon. 

There is no longer a child inside of you, just hatred tearing through your heart as you bare your teeth at his demonic form, not afraid so much as devastated by his betrayal.

“You hurt me.” 

Your voice rings through the empty halls with the conviction of an entire jury waiting to declare him guilty. 

Sylus doesn’t respond, merely taking one step towards you. His demonic form towers above you by a few feet, but you tilt your head upright in defiance, unwilling to back down and grovel for a man who had left you in the lurch; abandoning you when you needed him the most.

A clawed hand drifts from his side, and you flinch when he touches your cheek, tracing his finger down to your jaw. The mists swirling around him recoil, as if waiting in anticipation.

“I’ve missed you.” His voice is a low croak, vibrating through your chest with the strength of his despair. 

You shrink back from his touch, the baleful glare on your lips never fading. 

“Why? After what you’ve done… after what you did to me…”

“I never intended for you to get caught in the crossfire,” he rumbled, taking one step closer to you. The tendrils of black mist move with him, and you feel them reaching out to you, caressing your arms, your hair. 

One of them touches your cheek, and you’re surprised to find it warm and pulsing, as if human blood ran through its dark haze. 

The tendril reaches to touch your lips, and those crimson eyes burn through the dark night, remaining steady on you. 

“I only wanted to make sure you were safe. That is why I made the deal with Mephisto.” 

You shake at the name of that cursed demon who had stolen your lover’s humanity. 

“And why should I believe you now?” 

Though in his demonic form, there are still bits of his humanity flickering through the amorphous slate of his once face. You can almost see his lips twisting into a frown, the desperation besmirching his brow with a furrow. 

“Do you think I would’ve done this—any of this—if it weren’t for you?” Sylus takes one thundering step towards you, close enough for you to reach out and brush his translucent skin. “I love you! I love you so much, my beloved and here you are, boldly claiming I want to destroy you. It is absurd.”

“It is not absurd!” you cry out, raising your fists and slamming them onto his chest. “You took everything away from me! You stole my livelihood, my sanity, my… my family!” 

Sylus caught you in time as your strength gives out and you crumple in front of him, tears seeping down your cheeks and staining your frock. 

“Our child… you didn’t even search for me when you found out the truth…”

Your hands clench above your hollow belly. 

For a palm with such immense size and width, it cups your face gently, bringing his face closer to yours, the love he feels for you desperately trying to bridge the distance. 

“I made sure to speak to the underworld lords. Our baby is currently in paradise now, my love. Nothing can hurt her. Her soul is free,” his voice breaks at the reminder of the price he had to pay to protect you and the child you both made out of love. The price of his soul, bartered and bargained for with the devil himself so his human lover would never feel an ounce of pain in her life again. 

You shake your head, tears staining the stone floor with dark droplets. “The price is too high, Sylus. It is too much. I should be taking on some of the burden—”

“You will remain in the above world, my love,” he reprimands you without an afterthought. “I will not ask you for much except to continue living as you would if I didn’t exist.” 

What’s left of his human conscience aches at the reminder of what he has to say next. “You are free to love, free to get married, have more children if you like… Your freedom has been bought and paid for. You don’t have to suffer anymore, Y/N. It is done.”

He stands after a second of hesitation, but you desperately reach out for him, grasping onto his broad shoulders. 

“I can’t live without you.” More tears gloss over your eyes, and you hiccup the truth through quivering lips. “Please. Sylus. There has to be a way we can be together.” 

He remains silent, impassive in the face of your desperate plea. 

The tendrils hovering around you are softer this time when they reach out to stroke your hair, grazing your cheeks and neck, leaving shivers of heat running up your spine. Effortlessly, like you weigh next to nothing, the wrap around your body, lifting you off the ground. 

Your back meets stone, and your hands are tethered above your head by the dark mist, the aching silence too much for you to handle.

“Sylus…” 

The sound of his name from your lips will never not be the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. 

Despite being dark and imposing in his demonic form, it doesn’t scare you a single bit when he moves closer, face hovering inches from yours. The tendrils now stroke your bare thighs, feeling the tensing of your muscles under his touch, wrapping around your shapely calves to spread them wider.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers, low and inquisitive, filling your parted mouth with his hot breath.

You nod, unable to speak, but the devotion in your eyes never wavers. 

“Yes. With all my heart and soul.” 

Your soul. Sylus feels the last remaining stronghold of his patience snapping; he has to claim your body as his own. 

There is nothing lewd in his touch when he caresses your hips, moving his sweeping palms to your chest as he squeezes your heaving mounds. Sylus’ mouth finds refuge in your neck, kissing a fiery trail up to your jaw as he tastes you with his tongue.

Your whimper fuels his sick need to claim you over and over again until you bear his marks upon your skin. Sylus lets the tendrils do their part in undressing you; those wispy curls slithering underneath the straps of your dress, drawing them down to let him feast his eyes upon your naked chest.

And you take these transgressions he inflicts upon with barely a grimace, encouraging him with soft moans and groans as the snakelike mist curls around your breasts, teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. 

Sylus commands the mist to lift you higher, right at his mouth level and he takes his time to savor the taste of your skin—licking your tender nubs, biting down on them and leaving them stinging from the cold and his saliva. 

Your abdomen constricts, and he sweeps a hand down the taut line of your body, humming in appreciation. It’s like he can finally see and touch you without any distance between your bodies; despite his sheer size and non-human composition. 

For the first time since his perceived betrayal, you’re openly receiving him with your reactions and enthusiasm. 

Sylus, you groan his name like it's a mantra. 

The tendrils trickle to the split between your thighs, lifting the hem of your dress aside so he can appreciate the bareness of you beyond your inner shift. He doesn’t hesitate to tear off your clothes, hungering to feel your body quivering under his palms. When your bare body is revealed in the gossamer light, he takes a step back, eyes burning from how pure and sacred you look.

Inches of warm flesh, so different from the hardness of his own translucent skin, greets his claws and he takes his time to touch you; memorizing your shape and smoothness in case he may never encounter them in his existence again.

You throw your head back, baring your graceful neck, and his mouth sinks right into the tender skin, working a mark right on your pulse point.

“My love,” he groaned in between kisses. “My love. All mine.” 

Your hips begin to twitch, and he takes it as a sign that you’re begging for more attention right where you need him the most. 

He may be a demon, but as Sylus sinks to his knees, he feels like a sinner falling at your altar; taking you into his mouth like you’re the only covenant in the world he wants to keep. 

Trembles tear through you like an earthquake, and Sylus has to sink his claws in the plush flesh of your thighs to keep you steady.

He runs his tongue over your clit, through your folds, the weeping wetness of your need running down his mouth, his jaw. 

The taste of you pumps his veins full of ecstasy.

Your sounds, moans, cries all filling his stone dead heart with a staggering love one will never find in this universe. 

Feels so good… you feel amazing… 

Your desperate panting and moaning go straight to his fuzzy brain, and your hips are circling and undulating, desperately trying to get yourself off with his mouth.

Sylus doesn’t care. He wants you to use him; wants to be used by you thoroughly. 

Those blood red eyes flicker up the length of your body, taking in the tendrils still cruelly teasing your nipples, your quivering thighs and endless streams of moans signaling you’re right at the brink of your pleasure.

Giving your sensitive nub a tender kiss, he rises to his full height, and prepares for the final claiming.

The way your eyes widen when he reveals his cock nearly makes him laugh, and you gasp, flinching back at the sheer size and girth of him.

Close to a foot long, you’ve never seen such… length on an appendage quite like the one Sylus was carrying.

He noticed your gaping stare, the petrified silence, and laughed. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I will make sure to prep you very—” he takes one step closer, sinking his claws into your thigh. “—very,” you feel his lips brush underneath your ear, drawing a shiver of heat wracking through your body. “—very well.” 

He remained true to his word.

Sylus spent what felt like hours between your thighs, giving your orgasm after orgasm, using his tongue, teeth, claws, and the mist to get you spilling for him until your every pulse wracking through your body was starting to hurt.

Your cries were eventually muffled by the tendrils stuffing your mouth, the cross-eyed expression you wore making it harder for him to deny the need to absolutely claim you with no mercy. 

“No more,” your garbled plea reaches his ears, and Sylus leans back on his haunches, staring up at you with a raised brow. 

Your exhaustion manifests in the tired droop of your eyes, tugging right on his heartstrings.

“Oh, my. Looks like I’ve tired you out, my love.” 

Sylus gathered you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Your head lolls against his broad shoulder, the exertion wearing you out and making you susceptible to his next ploy. 

Lifting your hips, he tests the waters by sinking the tip of his tapered cock right into your heat. 

Your eyes flutter wide open, a gasp ripping past your lips. 

“Sy,” you stammered, and he shushes you. 

Pain. A neverending stretch. 

Your gasp is fused with panic, and you shake in your bonds, your body seizing.

“N-no… it can’t fit… it can’t…”

“Ssh.” He kisses your tears away, soothing your worries with his palms on your cheeks, thumbs stroking your jaw. “I’ll go slow, my love. I won’t hurt you.”

You hiccup and give a little, teary nod. 

Sylus smiled at your adorable surrender, staying true to his promise and taking his time to slowly ease inside of you. 

Without much effort, he’s halfway in and you gape, unable to believe you can take all of him in one go. 

A mist tendril helps to keep your body keyed up for him, playing with your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub until you begin to shiver and shake. 

You clench your hands into fists, unable to break the bonds that hold you fast to the sensations; that tie you down to Sylus.

He nips and licks at your throat, growling under his breath as his cock endeavors to plunge inside of you.

The need to fully bottom out, to have all of him buried inside of you is much too lustful of a temptation to surrender.

Sylus needs to see you struggling to make him fit. He needs to hear you say the words that will give yourself fully to him. 

Oh… Sylus… oh gods… gods…

“No gods, my love,” he bites down on your earlobe, drawing a full-body shiver from you. “Just me.”

His crimson eyes glance down to where you’re connected, and he huffs a sound of satisfaction.

“Look at that perfect cunt, my love,” he guides you to look down, enjoying how your eyes widen and your breath falls out in a desperate puff. “She’s taking me so well… you’re taking me so well…”

One more inch, and the ritual will be complete. 

Sylus can see the tip of his cock pushing against your stomach, and the idea of him being so deep, so intimately connected with you, makes his heart lurch and the blood rush to his ears.

“Gods!” 

Your scream echoed around the pantheon, both a revelry and blasphemy at once. 

His grip around your hips tightened, long fingers overlapping around your smaller figure as he waits for you to stop squirming, his jaw set tightly so he doesn't lose control of his urges and unintentionally hurt you. 

“Darling,��� his warning comes out as a low rumble. “Please, cease your movements. I am barely holding on by a thread.”

Your lachrymose eyes trail upwards to him, and something in his chest tightens at the look of pure trust and devotion you give him. 

Tentatively, he shifts his hips forward, giving a gentle thrust to test the waters.

You respond instantly, back arching and hands turning into white-knuckled fists above your head that he thinks you might accidentally snap off your fingers. Your clenched jaw and quivering thighs fuel him to pick up the pace, and soon, the decrepit hall is filled with the sounds of your bodies messily meeting.

Each thrust he gives you makes your belly bulge, the sheer size of him driving you to the brink of madness as your eyes roll back into your skull, your mouth falling open and tongue slightly dangling past your lower lip.

He lives for the blissful look on your face, increasing his movements until he feels that familiar knot tightening deep in his body. 

“You feel like a dream, my love,” his whisper lights up the lust-tinged room with a flicker of innocent love—a great divide bridging closer and closer from the power of his devotion to you. 

The mists move by his command, pleasuring your erogenous zones—tugging and flicking your nipples, grazing firm circles on your clit.

Sylus needs you to be at the edge with him; needs to have you trust him enough to go off the deep end with someone as corrupted and wicked as himself. 

Your choked gasps and stuttering hips bring about a whole new wave of love and fierce protection he feels for you. 

Tangling his claws in your hair, he pushes your face up to meet his, devouring your entire being with his soul-sucking kiss.

The earth shakes, the walls tremble, and debris clatters to the ground.

Your orgasm comes as a jagged cry, and you shatter around him for the final time tonight, digging your heels into his broader waist; nearly losing yourself from the sensation of being completely tiny in comparison to him. 

Warmth gushes inside of you. At first, you find it familiar—comforting, even.

But, it doesn’t stop. 

Sylus keeps spilling inside of you until you hallucinate his taste in the back of your throat—salty, and musky desire. 

His hips tremble with the force of his unholy release, snarls and gasps bouncing across the dilapidated walls demonically sinister. 

You should be afraid—you knew that. 

But, all you can feel in this moment is raging passion for the man who was once your entire world.

The mists release you and you tumble right into his arms, feeling much too small and weak in his massive arms. 

Sylus’ demon cock remains hard and unyielding inside of you, and you think you feel him sloshing about in your inner guts.

Your belly is completely swollen, protruding from the copious amount of cum you hold inside of you. 

It makes you shiver and keen at the strange yet welcomed sensation. Sylus, mortified, tries to pull himself out of you, but you shake your head, needing to hold him close.

He drags you to the ground, holding you steady in his hulking build, pushing what’s left of his human nose into your hair to take in your musky, sweet scent.

When you straighten to lift yourself from his cock, you wince and gasp at the amount of white that floods from your gaping hole, making you twitch and whine loudly. 

Sylus too, groans at the sight, his head thumping back onto the stone floor.

“You will be the death of me, darling.”

His claws gently drag through your hair, and you sigh, leaning into his touch no matter how diabolical it may be.

Silence resounds around two lovers who are simply enjoying each other’s company. You press your head to his chest and he plays with the ends of your hair, content to nuzzle and cuddle you like he used to do when he was still human.

The thought puts a damper on your high, and you exhale, twining your arms around him.

As if he can read your mind, Sylus’ grip on your frailer body tightens—unwilling to let you go.

“Extend your palm,” his hoarse mumble draws you up short, and your look of bewilderment is second only to the confusion when he materializes a ripe pomegranate right into your outstretched hand. 

Sylus’ claws wrap around your smaller hand as he curls your fingers around the rotund fruit, reluctant to let you go.

“This is part of our deal,” he rumbled. “Until I can manifest in a pure flesh form, I will come to you in your dreams. Eat this and think of me, my beloved, and I will be with you the very second I hear your call for me.”

You gaze at the fruit in confusion, about to open your mouth and speak when you realize he’s disappearing right in front of your eyes.

“Sylus!” 

Your desperate cries mingle with your pained exclamation when you tumble to the hard ground, the warmth and strength of his body no longer under yours. The pomegranate in your hand rolls into a dusty corner, but you turn a blind eye to it—unable to believe he is well and truly gone. 

“Sylus,” you begin to sob, clawing at the ground, as if you could dig up the stone flooring and bring him back into your arms. 

“Sylus, you promised me! You promised you would never leave… you… you promised…”

You promised…

You promised…

You promised…

“...promised…” 

Your eyes flutter open in the half-darkness. Tears are drying on your cheeks, soaking the pillow underneath you. 

Numbly, you touch your stomach, thinking you can still feel the imprint of him deep inside of you. The sheets are tangled around your legs, and the emptiness yawns like a pertinacious monster inside of you, clawing through your soul till you think you might go mad with need. 

“Sylus…”

You feel the shadows stirring, and without warning, his embrace returns to hold you tightly to his chest.

The familiar scent of him, coming back to you after lifetimes apart, destroys what’s left of your self-control.

You sob in his arms like a child, soaking his robe with your tears and sorrow.

Let it out, darling, he whispers in the darkness, those crimson eyes filling with grief and pain, his tears dripping into your hair. 

Let it out… let it all out… I’m here… I’m here…

“Sylus,” you gasp, digging your fingers into the soft material of his sleeping robe, as if your touch alone could ensure he never leaves you again. “Sylus… I’m so sorry… I’m so…”

“Ssh,” he cradles you in his arms, rocking you from side to side like how a father might soothe a terrified child. “Oh, darling. There is no need to apologize. There is no need.”

Your shuddering, muffled wails pierce through the quiet night, and his eyes squeeze close, unable to bear the thought of you suffering from the same memories that never ceased to keep him up till dawn.

All Sylus has ever wanted was to protect you, but sometimes, protection comes with knowledge and knowledge is, in his experience, nothing but pain. 

“Do you want to talk about this now or shall we wait till morning arrives?” 

He wants to give you the choice he never had—a chance to confront your past and shape your future together, releasing himself from centuries of limbo spent navigating uncertainty alone.

But, you shake your head tiredly, a telltale sign of where your headspace was tonight.

“No. Let’s do it in the morning.”

Your arms tighten around him and he implicitly reads your unease and trepidation, letting you curl your body deeper into his embrace.

Sylus pauses for a moment, finding his center in your embrace, knowing that despite the centuries of turmoil you've endured together, come morning, you'll still be by his side.

“Of course,” he whispers, his voice threading through the comforting silence that envelops you both. He gently kisses the top of your head.

“Till morning, then.”

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

dawn says: ngl i teared up writing this </3 goethe's 'faust' will always make me emo because all mans really wanted was to be loved by someone (and amass immense power but ... oh well ...)

i had to review a lot of notes on faust as well as this reddit post for reference in this piece so your reblogs and feedback will be extremely appreciated in return mwah

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, sentence structures and plot lines and claim it as yours. do not recommend and repost my stories on other platforms.

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[misserabella]

could i request mean!ellie fucking you with her strap while wearing a suit? including a daddy kink if possible 🎀

mine

dark! mafia ellie x fem! reader

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, mean and dark ellie, jealousy, death of a second character, ellie commits murder, begging, guns, strap on! sex (r receiving), teasing, ellie being a menace, rough fucking, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, ass smacking, cum eating, use of good girl…

okay but what about mafia! ellie pissed the fuck off ‘cause one of her allies couldn’t just stay the fuck away from you during the mafia dinner; complimenting you, touching your hair, your dress. so she just had to show the motherfucker his place, and you, yours.

“you enjoyed it, huh? enjoyed the attention?” she groaned, her hips harshly smacking your ass as she pistoned into you, fucking your absolute brains out. “enjoyed that fucker gushing for you?!”

“n-no, daddy! i swear!” you cried out, your perfectly manicured nails digging on her desks wood, in which she had bent you over before dicking you down.

you whimpered at the sting of her hand landing on your ass in a harsh smack.

“it didn’t look that way to me. do you like it? like it when someone else rather than daddy touches you? you want him to fuck you?”

“no!” you shook your head, stuttering due to her relentless pace.

“louder. say it louder. who do you belong to?”

“to you daddy!”

“whose pussy is this?” another smack. her thrusts were kissing your cervix.

“yours daddy! my pussy is yours!” you babbled in between moans and whimpers.

“fucking right. you’re fucking mine.” she smirked. looking at the man tied to a chair in front of the two of you, muffled, watching. “now say it to him, baby.”

your watery eyes found the man’s, your lips puckering in a moan.

“i’m daddy’s. only daddy’s.” your high pitch voice promised.

“atta girl. that’s daddy’s girl.” you cried at the harsh thrust she gave you, one of her hands —the one that wasn’t forcefully pushing your head down against the wood— found your clit, overstimulating you. “now show him how much does this pussy love my cock baby. cum for me. give him a show before i blow his brains out.” you moaned, crying out ‘daddy, daddy, daddy’s! in between sobs as she ripped out of you an orgasm so big your ears rang and vision went white. “fuuck. good girl baby. soaking my fucking cock.” she chuckled, fucking you through it, watching your cum gather on the silicone. once you were completely fucked out of your mind, she pulled out, drops of cum splattering on her carpet.

she hummed, her hand circling her cock to pump it, your cum slicking her fingers as she made her way towards the man who had dared to touch you, to even breath beside you.

“you see this?” she inquired, bending over the man with her soaking hand showing. she slowly pushed her cum-covered fingers inside her mouth, smirking at the teary eyes of the man who muffled pardons for his life. “mine.” she whispered on his ear, the gun she had extracted out of her leather belt on the other side of the man’s head, against his temple.

that was the last thing he heard, ellie’s piercing eyes the last thing he saw, and the rope against the skin of his wrists and the napkin in his mouth suffocating him the last thing he felt. ‘cause thank god he didn’t felt the piercing of the bullet across his head, blowing up his brains.

ellie didn’t even flinch, wouldn’t even have nightmares about the dying light in his eyes as she saved her gun and made her way towards you once again, taking you in between her arms to pull you away from the body and to guide the two of you towards your room.

“i swear i didn’t mean it daddy. i only love you…” you whispered against her neck, and she hummed, kissing your head.

“i know baby. it was his fault. for touching what’s mine.”

[unknownplane]

The Court Jester Part 2

Yandere Batfam x GN Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4

As Batman questioned his life choices, his other children listened in on the conversation.

"So that's what happened to (Y/N). I thought they had just moved out." Tim stated.

"How did that weak-" Damian started but was cut off by Tim. "You didn't even know them! They were nice and understood how important our work was, so they tried to stay out of the way!"

Dick and Jason just blocked out the arguing as they started to remember all the things (Y/N) did for them. How they tried to help even in the smallest ways. Like how they would always make sure there was a fresh pot of coffee or how they would rotate the types of cookies in the manor so everyone got one they liked.

When (Y/N) first moved out, the first thing the family realized was how much they did. It felt weird the first couple of weeks, but they eventually got used to it. Seeing (Y/N) like this made them worry, even if some of them wouldn't admit it (Damian). This awoken something in each of them.

Dick saw someone who was with him since the beginning. Someone he could always trust to be there for him when he needed it, and now he could see it was gone. The twisted smile on their face showed all the pressure he and his family put on them, and he felt nothing but guilt.

Jason saw someone who went through something similar to him. He saw the torture in their eyes. He heard the manipulation in the words that came out their mouth. He knew that if he could just get to them and talk like they used to, it would all be fine. He was determined to get them back, and this time, they weren't leaving his sight.

Tim saw the calculation that went into this trap. He saw the brain of (Y/N), who even in this state was brilliant. He saw the planning, the research, the trail and error of each detail in this plan, all to catch Batman and have a conversation with him before your "Dad" got there. He wanted to bounce ideas off you. He wanted to talk about plans with you. He even wanted to just hang out and chill with you, but in order to do that, he would need to get you back. And when you came back, he would do all those things with you.

Stephanie saw the abandoned side of you. She realized that she didn't know anything about you. Your age, your favorite color, your birthday, she didn't even know your last name. She knows what it's like to have a distant relationship with a parent figure, and she wants to help. She wants to know all of those things. She wants to know you. And if you let her (you will), she wants to be the closest person to you.

Damian saw a weak follower who needed not only to learn but also needed to be protected. Even though you are older than him, he can see a flame in you that with the right training and teacher could become a full-on blaze. He would be that teacher. He would be the one you look up to. Nobody else. He just needed to get you back to start training.

They all looked at each other as if thinking the same thing,"Let's go get (Y/N)."

Back with (Y/N)...

"Dads gonna be so proud when he sees this! I mean, look at you! You look totally defeated!" (Y/N) said between giggles. They were giddy. They had talked to dad about if they could try something with the Bat, and surprisingly, he agreed. After the Bat was caught, they sent the signal to their father so they could show off their work.

Batman was tied to a chair. His utility belt on the floor as they made him make a choice. Drop your utility belt, or I will kill these two parents and make a boy and a girl orphans. They knew what they were doing. They knew it was wrong. But God did it feel good. To have his eyes looking at them and having him see what they truly are. Not their mother but (Y/N). Even if they look a little different now.

As the Bat was beginning to start a sentence the door busted open.

"Hello Peanut!" The Joker exclaimed as he came in. "Look at all the fine work you've done. My little Jester".

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

Thank you so much for all the support on the first part of this! Everytime I see your guys support I am baffled at how wonderful you all are. Quick question do you want this to be completely platonic or do you want some people from the family to be romantic? Also should I add more people from the DC Universe? Thank you so much for reading!

@asillysimp

[grapejuicestyless]

Leader Of The Landslide

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: John B was always your dad’s favorite. You always assumed it was because he blamed your mother leaving on you. Though he never outwardly neglected you, you always seemed to live in your older brother’s shadow. To everyone except one.

I remembered it from a young age, as early as seven, the way they all shunned me. My mother had been long gone, and my tired brain hadn’t held a single warm memory of her other than one.

We were at the chateau, as my dad called it, sitting on the old porch. Only, it wasn’t old then, it was new, and without the cigarette buds littering the once vibrant oak. There was an old wicker chair in the corner, pushed where the dusty couch now lay. It rocked slightly, not because it was meant to, but because it was broken. The distant memory of mumbled yelling and crashing from outside. Arguments that kept me and John B hidden under his covers until daylight broke. I loved that chair.

When I was young, my mom used to hold me in that chair. She never thought I was too old to be held, to be doted on by my mother. I still called her “mama” in my toddler years, pawing at the ends of her hair and the old fabric of her shirt. She sang soft melodies to me, songs I had never committed to memory, but songs I found in the simple things I enjoy now.

Popes dad says I had her eyes, and John B once told me that our dad thought I had her laugh. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me, he tells me he loves me, but he doesn’t like me.

Right before she left, I had been padding along the grain of the wood floors, my blanket dragging between my legs and my dad’s shirt were my makeshift pajamas hanging down to my ankles. A storm, ones we got often in the summertime as the air became warmer and pushed out the cold, had broken down a few large branches in the yard, and in an effort to find comfort, I ran to my mama.

“You favor that girl over our son!” My dad shouted, his voice thick with a simmering anger I had never heard before. I swore even then I could feel it through the walls.

“How dare you! They are my babies! I love those kids more than anything I have ever loved, and I love them just the same!” My mama argued, but her voice was softer, more conscious of her young ones who she believed were tucked into bed just a few feet away.

“I should have known you would have been this way. You haven’t seen them the same since they were born.” My mama added softly, her words bitter and heavy with an unspoken truth.

There was a heavy silence, and then, a crack. I wasn’t sure what it was, the sound of rings hitting skin and the soft clanking of another hitting the ground. I ran quietly, light on my feet as soon as the collision happened, crawling over to John B’s bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin. He didn’t even stir, so used to the feeling of my legs curling against his, expecting to wake up nose to nose when the sun would shine through his thin curtains. The arguments happened so often, it became rare that he wouldn’t wake up with me tucked into bed beside him, a nervous wreck and furrowed brows.

That was the last time I saw my mother, or heard her voice. I hadn’t known it then, but the way my father seemed distant that morning told me it was more than one of the usual fights. She wouldn’t be walking through that door again in a few days like she sometimes would, and she would never sing to me again.

I remember laying out across that old chair, pulling my small knees to my chest. Her perfume lingered on the cushion tied around the back, and her voice was carried over the breeze. She wasn’t coming back, and the pain in my father’s eyes and the churning of his stomach told me that much.

A few days later, dad called my brother and I into the living room to tell us how mama had skipped town, set off for a better life. I could tell they both blamed her, bother hated her secretly for it almost instantly, and being so young and impressionable, I nearly agreed, I nearly believed it. But I saw the way my father spoke to her and the way he had the ability to make her snap back. She deserved that life my father said she was chasing, even if deep down I knew it was a lie.

I never told my brother that dad was lying, though sometimes I did whisper it in his sleep like a prayer, like my truth would reach his dreams and taint his false sense into seeing whats real. But even as a little kid I wasn’t innocent enough to blabber on about how horrible our last living parent was. Especially not when our dad was to John B as what our mother was to me.

The chair was gone soon after, and my dad refused to tell me where he’d thrown it. At first I thought he had broken it, but he was a sensible man at times, and the extra cash lying around the kitchen told me he had sold it, and he had killed her memory too.

Years later, with barely any recollection of who she was, and lacking the foundations of which she should have built for me, sometimes I found myself curled up in that corner, my knees pulled to my chest tightly in the same ball I wound myself in all those years ago, and sometimes I found myself still calling out for her, like if she had heard how much I still needed her, she would sing for me one last time.

But I am much older now, and it has dawned on me repeatedly like some sick prayer that I am too old to be held, to be shown the affection of a mother and her infant, and I have been since the day she left.

Early mornings and stained glass windows, not from paints, but mold. Old rotten wood and dusty broken furniture. A safe haven to call home, a quiet room on the heart of the cut. My brother and I often pulled out patches of grass in the backyard, and sometimes we’d sit together on the hammock, see how high we could swing and loop our fingers around the rope to hold on.

Dad would sit inside, sometimes by the kitchen window where he could look out and watch over us, but he mainly spent his time inside of his office, which had at one point, been moms bedroom.

He used to leaning over the dirty counters, feeling the sun on his skin, letting the gentle breeze cool the back of his neck. But dad loved a lot of things, and unlike mom, he lacked a discreet touch about those things.

I guess it could be traced back to when my brother and I had just turned eight. A week after the party had rolled over, and glasses kept piling up around the house, sticky and stained a faint brown from his favorite cheap whiskey. Sometimes I tried to clean them up, and I would place them in the sink, but the colors never faded, not even after my small palms would bleed and callous.

Once, John B asked me what I was doing. He had been playing outside with Pope and JJ, and JJ had been screaming for me to come outside and be his partner in ‘signs’, our favorite childhood card game. Though, JJ and I often lost because we too, lacked the ability to be discreet in any situation.

I told him I’d be out soon, I was just doing the dishes and I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. The usually happy, calm man looked down at his feet with something I’ve later identified embarrassment. I never blamed dad for drinking. I figured if mom leaving was still hard on me after all this time, it must have been hard for him too.

He began using his coffee mug after that. The dark liquid less shameful in a cup that gave him the ability to not only disguise his problem, but to commit it at any time of day, because John B was too oblivious to notice, and I was too naive to believe he would.

“Bird.” Dad called for John B in the backyard, not caring how Pope and I were arguing nonsensical things over each other, waving our arms and pointing fingers. JJ happily mediated, laughing at our schoolyard taunts and remarks, encouraging us to snap back, though we all knew our words were nothing more than that, and we all loved each other a great deal too much to mean any of it.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, maybe I would’ve seen the way dad was swaying. The way his knuckles were white around the frame of the door. His glasses were crooked, and his breath rotten with substances. But I didn’t notice, and so little John B happily walked towards our father with open arms.

Dad hugged him. He hugged his son and held back his tears like it was the most beautiful moment he could ever dream of. He held John B like he was precious, and not to deny that he wasn’t, to me my brother was worth more than anything in the world, but to my dad, it was something more than that, and to me, it felt that way too.

Because dad never held me, his daughter, who cleaned his dishes, and covered his tracks, and lied, and stole, and cried out for him, for some peace. He never hugged me like that. Because he blamed me.

He blamed me for my mother leaving because unlike my mother, he could never love my brother and I the same. He couldn’t love two of something if he barely wanted one. He never hit me, but he was cold, calculated, cruel when he wanted to be.

That day, at just eight years old, I sat in the grass with dirt under my nails and heavy breaths wondering would it would be like to feel the warmth of my father. Would it solve all my problems or only tear me apart further.

Because maybe if I continued to never feel the embrace of the man who gave me life, it would be easier to disassociate and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be easier to not like him anymore, and the unbearable guilt I carried even as an eight year old, would go away finally.

I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t fighting Pope anymore, or how my gaze had drifted over to watch how tenderly my dad held onto my brother, because I couldn’t even feel the way tears burned into my skin in slow droplets that fell into my lap.

JJ hugged me then, and it felt special, I felt special, because I knew even at that age that affection was a rarity in my life, and JJ, as much as I knew he loved me, was not a physical person. Still, he held me from behind while Pope spewed out apologies, swearing on everything he believed that he hadn’t meant a word. I could tell that he too, felt confused because we had gone after each other multiple times and never had I broken down.

In that moment it felt like I had gained something more than a hug from my father, but a silent acceptance with my best friends. Because soon, even Pope shut up and looked to where JJ’s eyes were glued, and even as flustered as he had been, everyone who sat in the dirt that day understood that no words that were thrown around had ever hurt me, nor did they even reach me, because what had made me so inconsolable was the fact that my happy brother received all the praise while I laid out in the lawn, crying until I dry heaved, ignored by someone who I only ever wanted love from.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/n/n.” JJ mumbled quietly into my ear, and for the first time, I didn’t believe a word he said.

“Dad, dad stop.” I defended myself for the first time when I was thirteen. I was only half his height and he was triple my age. I thought that somehow, if I stopped enabling his behavior, he would get better. He would see how much I cared and he would finally love me.

That was the first time dad yelled at me, really yelled at me.

My dad refused to lay a hand on me, so when my friends ask if I was ever abused, I tell them no because it feels laughable to compare my psychological trauma to the welts on their ribs when they barely escape home.

When JJ asks me whats wrong, why my eyes look so puffy in the afternoon, after I stumble out of the house in the same clothes as the night before, I tell him I didn’t get enough sleep, because how do you tell your best friend who has been climbing through my bedroom window since we were nine that my dad hurts me too, you just can’t see it.

Dad called me a liar and a psychopath when I told him he was hurting me. He told me that it wasn’t true because he loved my brother and I and he would never lay a hand on either of us, not then and not ever. Dad says that he deserves respect, that I’m only a kid and he’s the adult so I better start acting like it. He tells me that it’s like a switch went off in my head ever since I became a teenager and all of a sudden I can’t stand him. But that’s not true.

The truth was even at such a young age, I always knew I would lay my life on the line for my dad. He meant more to me than I could ever express, because to me, he was the man who hadn’t left, even when he was given all the right reasons to bail out. So, for years I tried to cover for him, clean up and take care of everyone to show him what I could never articulate into a phrase of my affection. Still, he preferred John B’s half hearted sentiment over anything I could give him.

I wished so deeply that I was born different, that I wasn’t me. Because maybe if I wasn’t the clone of my mother, maybe then my father would like me more.

I guess the worst part of it all is that I can never be sure if my father’s anger could have been my mother’s, only given to him in her absence. Would his hands have been hers as I grew older? Would her hugs turn into the white knuckles wrapped around my throat? And would her songs become the vile words my father threw at me in drunken rage?

Maybe if I kept hiding behind the cruelties of his excuses for the way I cowered around him, then John B wouldn’t have to live in the same sense of shock I have been stuck in for a decade.

Dad never laid a hand on me, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to touch me to kick me in the stomach, all he had to do was show me how he was capable of being a loving father, but never put me on the receiving end.

He found time for John B, even as he buried himself in his work, searching for some gold that seemed far away and unimportant. He locked himself away while I slid food under the door, and I watched as he kissed my brother’s forehead and bid him goodnight, leaving me to sleep on the couch.

Even as a thirteen year old girl, an age so tender and impressionable, I felt so much more mature than I should have. I felt the effects of neglect I couldn’t wish on anyone. In my self pity, even after he gave me every reason to turn on him, I couldn’t hate him, so I began to hate myself.

“Dad, when was the first time you felt love?” John B asked one night. For the first time in a long time, we were all lying in the living room. My brother hung over my dad’s lap and my head resting on the floor as I sank off of the old dusty beanbag.

Dad thought carefully, his large hands splayed out against my brother’s small back.

“The day you were born.” He answered thoughtfully, and I watched as my brother’s eyes lit up.

I had every right to scream, to beg for an answer because the little girl trapped inside of me didn’t deserve this kind of pain from her own blood. But I didn’t. I sniffled and sat up, storming out of the house that I wasn’t even sure I could call home. How foolish I felt for ever believing my dad would ever love us the same. How stupid I felt for thinking that my brother, who inherited our fathers name, would never be preferred over my mother’s child.

“Y/n Routledge, get back inside now!” Dad yelled, storming down the porch to catch me. But I had become good at slipping away, and neglectful parents raise angry children.

“Go to hell!” It was the first time I swore at my dad. Even I shocked myself, because it had never occurred to me that I could do that.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” He asked me, and it made me want to laugh because when had I ever done anything to him that wasn’t in good faith? “Just like your mama! Storming off!” My dad cursed under his breath, not really bothering to chase after me. How easy would it have been for me to have ran away.

I could live under a tree, a big willow with drooping leaves and heavy branches. I could make friends with the squirrels and be a good mother to them, the mother I never had, but always dreamed of.

“My mama was a good woman!” I cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with my freshly made emotions, ones that felt too strong for a new teenage girl.

“You know nothing about her! She left, I’m the one who stayed!” Dad yelled, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

I did something I had never done before. In all of my life, not once had I ever blamed my dad for my mom leaving. Not even after I heard their fights from when I was no taller than the notches in the doorframes, and not after he began to spend his paychecks on alcohol instead of new shoes for John B and I. I never blamed him because he always blamed me, and if it made me feel so worthless, then how could I ever do that to him?

“I don’t blame her!” I fought back, tears burning my eyes almost as hard as the back of my throat stung. “And I don’t blame you.”

I couldn’t stay mad at dad for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t lie and say I did when I didn’t. Dad didn’t say anything then, so I turned on my heels in the dirt and I stormed off.

That night, I knocked on JJ’s window. I was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that he once called nerdy and my rainbow pajama pants. I looked thirteen going on seven, my cupcake slippers caked in mud.

But JJ didn’t pull on my braids like my brother did when we fought, and he didn’t poke fun at my pants. He opened his window and leaned out, his messy blond hair and tired eyes adjusting to admire my face.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Why are you here?” He asked, and I could tell he sounded a little on edge. His dad used to be discreet about how he dealt with JJ, but after middle school had began, he stopped caring as JJ stuck around the same kids he grew up with. So, I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting any trouble.

“I just missed you.” A lie. The first of many lies I would spew out to my best friend because I felt too awkward to confess my own feelings and burden him when he had it so much worse.

“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, and I could tell my words made him feel nice. “C’mon, I’ll help you in. Wouldn’t wanna lose a slipper.” He teased with a toothy grin, a smart ass from birth.

I playfully smacked his shoulder, holding my breath until my feet hit his dirty floors. He held onto my arms longer than he had to, and I wondered if he could feel my body shaking.

“Don’t make fun, okay? I like my slippers.” I smiled, blinking away the old tears that I cried on the way over, and pawing at the scrapes from the bushes I cut through to get to his house quicker.

“I would never!” He defended softly, his arms raised in a scouts honor. “Cross my heart, cupcake.”

Sometimes I wished that JJ and I were older, I thought about it often. It kept me awake after long fights with dad, that I would one day save up all the money I could scrape together and take JJ with me. We’d go around the globe, just me, him, and open ocean surrounding us, and only the scars on our skin and in our heads to remind us of the past. But we wouldn’t care, because we would be there for each other, and the ocean would wash away the evil men on the shore.

“I wish I had a more appreciative daughter!” Dad yelled at me as he packed up his things in a hurry, chasing yet another lead on his quest for the gold, a passion driven by his valiant greed.

It hurt, but it would have hurt me a lot more three years ago. At sixteen, his words meant nothing to me, because at sixteen, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my dad simply did not like me, and that was okay.

So instead of sitting in self pity, or swallowing myself whole in a another bottomless spiral of self hatred and depression, I finally found the spark that was burning so fiercely somewhere deep inside of me.

“Fuck you!” The second time I swore at dad. “Fuck you and all your promises to get better!” I stepped forward, crossing into his office, which I swore to never go in, not only because it reeked of him, but because it was only a reminder of how quickly he let mom go, and how quickly he shifted the blame onto me, an innocent infant with no real chance to do anything to anyone.

“Fuck me? Oh, fuck me? Your father? I have done everything for you! I have given you the chances my own parents couldn’t give me and you are so ungrateful! I pray for a day you wake up and see the damage you cause around here!” Dad spat, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck all your pride and fuck all your prayers!” I stepped closed again, and my knuckles pawed at his shirt desperately, my eyes looking up at my father, who stood ten times taller than me, or so it felt that way. “All this time I waited like a fool, because you’re my dad. Above anything else, before the treasure and before the alcoholic, you’re supposed to be my dad!”

“Are you drunk?” He asked. I wasn’t, but I might as well have been with how quickly my mind passed through emotions.

Here he was standing in front of me, and here I was already done processing all my grief. He wasn’t dead, I could feel each breath under the palms of my hands, yet for years it felt like walking next to a ghost with how absent and withdrawn he always was from my life.

“All I ever wanted was a father.” I told him softly. “Was that too much to ask?” I deserved to know, but I should have known better.

My dad was an asshole, and he always would be. It was in his fashion that he would brush right past me, unfeeling and lacking empathy for his own daughter.

I felt angry. Before, I felt betrayed, sad, even embarrassed by him, and by how easily I let him get away with all his faults simply because he was my father and if my brother loved him, then there had to be some good in him. But there wasn’t.

Here he was, walking out of my life, the keys to the car that I paid for in his hands, dangling just as carelessly as he was with my life. I don’t know why that set me off, but it had. I heard my feet slap against the floors before I felt myself moving.

“Give back my damn keys!” I caught up behind him, snatching the carabiner from his dirty knuckles and pushing him into the wall. He wouldn’t hit, but god, had he made me wish I could. “I paid off that loan it’s under my name!” I stuffed the clasp into my back pocket tightly.

“You wanna leave, thats fine. But you’re walking out of my life if you’re going!” I breathed out heavily, the frames on the wall rocking back and forth from the force he hit the wood with.

“What is wrong with you? Where’s my sweet little girl I used to love?” My knuckles loosened on his shirt again, but my elbows remained pressed into his stomach.

“Loved? Like you ever loved me. You couldn’t have, because you wouldn’t have taken it out on me. You wouldn’t have gotten rid of her existence in spite of me. You wouldn’t have tossed that damn chair, and you wouldn’t have burned the things she kept for me!” I wanted to cry, but more than that, I wanted him so see how exhausted I felt.

“All I wanted was a fucking father, John.”

“And you got one, and look at you, you’re a strong young woman now!” He laughed bitterly, fighting against my shaky hold. He could barely look at me. I wondered if he was asked, could he even tell a friend the color of my eyes? If I were to wash up on the shore, could he even report the body? Would my grave lay empty simply because he hadn’t known me for years, and he never would.

“I was a little girl! I was a little girl, and I still am! I’m sixteen, dad! Stop treating me like some type of problem when I’ve been nothing but great to you!” I cried this time, pushing him harder until the wood splintered and my arms gave out. We both stumbled away from each other.

“All I ever wanted was a father, but for the first time, finally I can see you are the leader of the landslide.” I scoffed pathetically, staring him down with a broken heart.

I deserved to smash all the plates in the house, to rip off all the wallpaper and spray paint the rotting white paint bright blue just in spite of my father. But even though he wasn’t kind to me, I couldn’t ignore how good of a dad he had been to John B, and more than anything I ever held close to me, I loved my brother dearly. I wiped my tears and let dad walk out on me. Neither of us said a word.

He clapped John B over the back when he got outside, promising to return soon, this time with the promise of an unpromising fortune. He swore that he loved my brother more than anything, called him by the nickname he earned long ago, and left without saying another word.

I watched wordlessly from the front steps.

We lost the gold. Once or twice. The gold we had found first was a slap to the face, but having the cross stolen right out from under us felt so much worse, especially with Pope being tied into it on such a deeper level.

We all sat around the first now, our bodies tucked close together like a perfectly woven blanket, arms tangled around each other and weak laughter echoing around the smokey fire. We didn’t have much left to fight for, but to me, I felt deeply that in a more important way, we had gotten the gold, and we had been filthy rich all along.

The gold we’d found couldn’t be measured on a scale and dealt between the seven of us evenly, but unmeasurable and sought after by anyone who understood. Because in the end, we still had each other, and to me, this was family.

JJ’s blonde hair tickled the top of my forehead. We sat close together on the low swinging hammock in the backyard. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and my legs thrown over his lap carelessly. We talked quietly with Kiara about the little things. We found alternatives to seek out her dreams of preserving the ecosystem and to swim with the turtles.

It all felt so real, so domestic for a group of friends who were always running from something. It felt like the first time in a while I had time to stop and catch my breath.

“What are you thinking about, cupcake?” The nickname rolled nicely off the tongue, his crooked smile endearing to me, and his eyes sweeter than any doe I’d ever encountered.

I sighed contently, cuddling closer to the boy and soaking up his warmth greedily. Though we both never said it would loud, it always felt nice to share close proximity with someone we trusted so deeply. To feel affection for someone when we had grown up scarcely to it.

Dad had been dead for nearly two years now, and the truth was, I wasn’t sixteen anymore. I wasn’t the sad little thirteen year old who hated herself more than anyone else, who climbed through the blondes window at midnight in her muddy slippers, and I wasn’t the timid toddler who could barely walk without tripping on her blanket she dragged around everywhere for a pathetic kind of comfort.

John B took it hard at first. I wanted so desperately to tell him everything. He was my older brother after all, but most days now I felt like it was my job to look out for him. It always had been. He was my brother and I would never have let him suffer, but sometimes it was hard not to wish for once I could selfishly struggle openly and degrade the man he saw as his hero.

It would be wrong for me to taint that image of a dead man, a man I still believed John B was openly grieving, even if he said he was okay now. You are never okay after losing someone like that, no matter how evil, and I think he forgets that he was still my father, even if he never saw us in the same context as he saw him.

“Thinking about how comfortable you are.” I mumbled, stretching my limbs out tiredly along his tanned skin. I laid like a lap dog on his chest, my head tucked under his chin and my hands playing with the rough fabric of his dirty t-shirt.

“Not about John B?” He prodded quietly. JJ always knew when the wheels in my head were turning, just like I could always tell when something was wrong. It was like our super powers, to know each other so well we couldn’t hide anything.

“He’ll come back, he wouldn’t leave you.” He assured softly, his fingers dancing gently along my curved spine. It felt like oddly in times like these, the calm after the storms, that it truly would always be just JJ and I against the world. Like we were the only two people who truly understood each other, through the laughter and under the deepest scars littering our skin.

“I know. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t do that.” I agreed, and just as I was about to let the serenity of the lazy swinging of the hammock lull me into a sleepy haze, the crunching of boots on leaves alerted me elsewhere.

There he stood, his clothes still grimy from the tropical heat and wet mud from Barbados. His hair was stuck to his forehead in the same curl pattern from a few days ago, but the deep rooted brunette seemed to become a shade of dirty blonde from all the harsh sun. His skin was tanned and covered in sweat, but he was still my brother, and he had finally come home.

I sat up quickly from JJ’s arms, pushing off of his chest with so much force, I felt him bend at the waist and let out a puff of air. I shouted an apology before wrapping my brother in a bone crushing hug, relief filling my stomach and the unease dispersing finally.

“Where have you been!” I pushed him away with a smile, I didn’t even notice the seriousness in his gaze as he called out for me softly.

“Are you crazy? Staying behind like that in a foreign country?” I laughed breathlessly, my eyes searching his face and settling on his lack of a smile.

“Y/n/n.” He called out again softly.

“What? Whats wrong?” I breathed out, my smile fading slightly into a dimmer smirk, confidence slipping from my face into a deep furrow between my brows.

“John B, what happened? Did someone hurt you…d-did-“ My happy touch became a panicked grip on his clothes, my knuckles white and face pale as I searched for answers.

“Y/n.” He cooed calmly, the ease between his eyes and brows calming the pace of my breath. “I found him.” He said with a soft smile.

“What?” I breathed out. “Who?”

I racked my brain for answers, mulling over every possible explanation for what could have made me stay behind, leave behind all the good that had surrounded him for the past few years, and the good that would continue to grow with him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own dad?” An old voice called out from behind the brush, long greasy hair and an un-groomed bears covering a good portion of his old face. From his glasses alone I could see who it was, never mind the voice that often haunted me even in my sleep, the ghostly presence that lingered even as I slept on my own.

He was a poltergeist haunting my life, torturing my soul until I bled out completely blue. Had the punishment of forcing a child to clean up his mess for over a decade not been enough karma for all the bad I hadn’t done yet? Would I forever be stuck in the broken glass of his aftermath? How much longer would I have to hide behind the shell of who I once was just to please those who don’t yet know about who I am, of who I could have become?

I decided then I couldn’t do it, and I let go of my brother, and I let go of my pride.

“No.” I spoke softly, looking between the boys. John B looked more and more like dad every day.

I watched my brother’s face crumble in confusion, my heels dragging against the dirt, I backed away like a scared dog, mo longer the eager retriever with a bird at the door. My tail was between my legs.

“Y/n/n, it’s dad!” John B gestured like it would click for me, but that was not my father. Maybe by blood, but he would never be more than that to me, just evidence that linked me back to John B.

“No, I-I can’t.” I tried to explain through staggering breaths, choking out my words like tranquilized venom.

“I know it’s a lot, but everything’s going to be the way it was.”

My back hit JJ’s chest, and for the first time in the last few seconds, the ringing that blocked out my brothers bargaining seemed to fall deaf on my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beat dying in my chest.

“No, you don’t get it.” I cried out, though my eyes felt dry. “You don’t get it and you never will!” I begged silently for him to see the way the spark seemed to die as soon as dad came back, the way that my shoulders slumped and the confident young woman I had become faded back into the teenage daughter who wished for nothing more than to run far away from here.

“Y/n, come on, don’t be like this.” Dad tried to reason, like it was his say to decide how I would handle his return, like he could decide when I stopped feeling the effects of his abuse, because that was a word I had learned to call it, because that is what it was. Abuse.

“How dare you!” I shouted, anger making my skin hot. I felt queasy, like the world was crashing down on me, betrayal hot on my face. He didn’t know, my brother didn’t know because I protected him from it.

Couldn’t he ever notice how much happier I seemed after dad left? How I finally started living for the moments between us instead of for the times when I could go to sleep, where I could quietly call out for our mother who I didn’t know.

JJ knew, of course he knew. He knew by the time dad left. I’d confessed it all in a drunken ramble in the backyard after he commented on how happy I seemed, and though I laughed when I told him, neither of us found it funny. He apologized for making me feel like my problems were minuscule compared to his, but I assured him it was my own self doubt, and never his own actions. Neglectful parents raise insecure kids.

So if my best friend had known, if he could see just how happy I was without the burden of my father’s blame, how could my other half not see it? My own DNA? It led me to believe he was neglectful of me in his own ways, pushing aside the obvious signs of my own struggle just for his own benefit, for the gain of a relationship with the father that severed ours long ago.

“How dare you come back here after all the shit you put me through!” I cried, and I hit him. I hit him in the chest and I watched as he kept his ground, his shoes not even sliding against the mud. I had grown weaker without his constant fighting, and it showed in just how quickly the flame flickered out.

“How dare you come back and expect me to just be okay with it when all you’ve given me is years of therapy that I can’t afford!” I hit him in the jaw, and this time, I felt a pair of arms pull me away, my hot tears burning their tan skin. I kicked and I screamed, and my brother dragged me off until I couldn’t reach him anymore.

“You’re a piece of shit! I owe you nothing!” I pointed at him, staring him down as he rubbed the quickly blossoming bruise on his skin, his beard covering the welt almost entirely. The mark didn’t make me feel better at all, and instead, I only felt more pathetic.

“I gave you everything!” My limbs fell limp, all fight leaving my body as my tired joints ached, my head falling onto JJ’s shoulder. The boys passed me off like some kind of child, and looking at the man who tormented me my entire youth, I felt just like the timid child once again, like all my growth meant nothing.

The bright moon was replaced with the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, clouds traded in for floral curtains that hung crooked over the windows, and the cool grass fading into hard wood beneath my feet.

“Y/n, hey…” JJ cooed, his hands brushing against my shoulders.

“I just…fuck…I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hit him, I don’t know, I just-“

“Y/n, cupcake, hey, baby,” he called for me again, a plethora of nicknames tumbling from his lips that I had never heard him call me before, but all that held a genuine affection in them. I stopped my senseless rambling at the tenderness of his touch and softness in his voice.

“It’s okay to not be okay.” He affirmed quietly. “You earned your anger, it’s okay.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting from just beyond his shoulder were my brother stood dumbfounded with my father, looking at him with a mix of question and anger towards the man that he once saw with stars in his eyes.

“Jay, I don’t know what to do.” I confessed quietly, feeling like we were ten again, sharing secrets through a game of telephone, just the two of us stuffed in the corner of my bedroom at midnight, my father unaware that the blonde was still in the house, let alone snuck in my room.

“That’s okay.” He nodded again, and this time his palms molded against the apples of my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my stale tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, we can run, or we can stay and kick him out, or we can do nothing.” I focused on the way he said each option with the use of we, because in our minds, we always escaped hell together.

“Can we just stay here for a little longer?” My eyes found his, and I saw the way his flickered down in a way that felt too intimate for just best friends.

“We can do whatever we want, it’s you and me against the universe, cupcake, and we’re winning it.” He promised.

And just as I always had, I believed every word he said.

[dimesdimesdimess]

CONFESSION - Part Two

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: innocent reader, lustful priest, oral (female receiving), fingering, swearing

Readers Notes: You guys enjoyed the first part so much I wasted no time writing the second part! I hope you enjoy and there could be one more part coming. Not proof read, possible spelling errors.

part one

As the week passed all you could think about is what happened with you and Father Charlie during your confession. Part of you felt guilty for doing what you did, but another part of you enjoyed it and you hated to admit that you were looking forward to Thursday and to seeing him again. You had no idea what he could possibly have planned this time. He had spoken to you on Sunday and instructed you to come on Thursday after hours, so there would be no interruptions. You never had done so before, but you carefully picked out your outfit: a cute tan mini dress with florals on it and a cute bow that tied in the bust area of the dress and tan ballet flats. Along with your white rosary around your neck. You took one last look of yourself in the mirror before you finally headed out and made your way to the church. 

Father Charlie was in his office waiting for you, his fingertips tracing along his desk as he thought of you and thought of your pussy as it glistened under the dim light of the confession booth last Thursday. He too knew the thoughts he had were a sin.. But he always knew how to absolve himself of his lustful ways. You had come walking into the church, dipping your fingers into the holy water and signing the cross before you headed toward his office. You thought a silly thing for you to sign the cross considering the sins you were going to commit soon. 

You took a deep breath as you walked toward Father Charlie’s office and once you were face to face with the door you took another deep breath and quickly soothed out your dress before you lightly knocked on the door. “Father? It’s me, Y/N.” you said softly. A warm smile formed on his face when he heard your voice. 

“Come in, Y/N.” he replied. 

You slowly opened the door, peeking your head in at first before stepping aside. He didn’t lift his head up but his eyes looked up through his lashes and he slowly brushed his fingers against his chin as he saw what you were wearing and he smirked to himself as he quickly stood up. “Right on time as usual..” he hummed, eyeing you up and down in your little dress. You could feel his stares as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you felt your face growing hot. He liked that. He liked how innocent and shy you were around him. He leaned against his desk and his hands rested against it. “Sit down, Y/N.” he murmured. 

You slowly walked over and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you glanced up to see him standing before you, he looked handsome as always. You tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear nervously. “So.. uh.. What are we going to do today, father?” you asked in a mousy little voice. He had a half smirk on his lips. 

“Well.. I thought we’d talk more about your thoughts. The dirty ones. Are you still having them after our last talk?” he looked down at you, his stare so intense. 

You nodded hesitantly. How could you not have them after what happened last week. 

“Mm..” he says softly. “And they’re still the same as you described to me?” he questions. 

“Yes..” you answer softly, peering back up at him and seeing the smile on his face. He loved this. 

“Mm.. Well, I think we should maybe take the next step into helping you.” he suggests. 

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What’s the next step?” you ask. He suddenly got closer to you and he leaned over toward you, his hands resting on either side of the arm rests of your chair and his hands gripping it tight. If you wanted to move.. You couldn’t because he had you trapped between him and the chair. You stared up at him. Your eyes meeting with such intensity, he licked over his lips as he studied your face for a moment. 

“The next step is making those desires of yours come true..” he uttered in a low raspy tone. His right hand letting go of the armrest of the chair and reaching up to touch your face and you jump slightly at his touch as his fingers caress your cheek slowly. “Instead of you playing with yourself and imagining this man touching you.. I can help you.. I can give you what you want.” he whispered, the pad of his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. The very feeling of it makes you shudder in pleasure and you could feel your breathing growing heavy.

“Is.. Is.. that allowed? I thought priests couldn’t do things like that..” you mumble as you look up at him innocently. 

He smirked and his face moved closer to yours and now your lips were practically inches apart from one another. “God wants this.. God wants you to give yourself to me. He chose me to give this to you..We must obey him, right?” he mumbles before his lips crash against yours, not even giving you a chance to answer. A soft moan escapes you as you kiss him back without a thought, nodding in response to him. You kissed him with such a hunger that you began to drag your tongue along his lips and slipped into his mouth, he moved his hand from your face and reached up to grab a handful of your hair and tugged your head back forcefully. You look at him with wide eyes as you gasp. “Do you want this?” he mumbles to you as his lips press against your jaw. 

You let out a soft whimper. “Yes.. Yes..” you pleaded. 

“Yes what?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Yes father..” you whimpered. 

He smirks and lets you go as he stands up straight again and he takes a hold of your hands and stands you up. “Take off your clothes.” he demands as he reaches up and tugs at the bow on the front of your dress until it unravels and opens up at the top just enough to get a peek at your breasts. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip as you nodded at his words, not even thinking about questioning him this time. You slowly begin to slip your dress off and let it fall into a puddle at your feet and you step out of it, staring up at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties. He licked over his lips as he looked over your body and he ran his fingers up along your left arm which caused you to shiver. “Remove everything..” he whispers. You look up at him and you lock eyes as you slowly unclasped your bra and let it drop to the floor as it slides off your shoulders, Father Charlie takes a deep breath as he stares down at your breasts, biting his bottom lip as his eyes linger down and he watches you slip your panties off next. He runs his hand along your abdomen as he just stares at your body, his staring making you feel a bit shy and when you try to cover yourself with your hands he quickly grabs them to stop you and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You’re beautiful..” he says softly. 

You feel the heat rushing to your face again and you smile at him. “Sit down, Y/N.” he mumbles. You look at him confused but sit back down as he asks and the cold leather of the chair pressed against your ass makes you shiver and you watch as he gets down on his knees before you. His hands run over your thighs, slowly moving up and down in between your thighs. He stares at you with such intensity in his eyes as he smirks. “This is a blessing from God.” he mutters. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, his hands feel so good against your soft skin and you breathe heavily as you watch him as he spreads your legs open and leans his head down so that he’s right in between your thighs and soft noise escapes from your lips. 

“F..Father..” you say breathlessly. 

“Shh..” he mumbles, softly pressing kisses along your left inner slowly making his way up to your pussy. Your eyes rolled back just feeling his lips against you. You couldn’t believe it but you were already wet and in desperate need to feel his mouth against your pussy and without hesitation as his lips grew closer and closer to your throbbing cunt your hands grab onto his head and you grip his hair between his fingers and he smirks to him when he feels you tugging at his hair and he sticks his tongue out and drags it up your inner thigh and he lets out a soft moan and now his hands grab your thighs and spread when further that his props your legs up over the arm rests of the chair and now you were spread wide open, your pussy completely on display for him and he can see the arousal dripping between your lips and you could hear a soft groan escaping from his lips from the very sight before he buries his face in your pussy and his tongue dives right in between your wet folds, he presses his tongue against your swollen clit and flicks his tongue against it slowly as his hands grip your thighs tugging you closer and you throw your head back in pleasure feeling his warm tongue in your pussy and you moan softly, gripping his hair tighter in between your fingers.

He begins to circle his tongue slowly around your clit, your wetness smearing on his face as he begins to lap his tongue around your clit and flicking it playfully before sucking on it a bit. You let out a soft moan and your head tilted back and a small “Mm..” escaping your lips. He pressed his tongue firmly against your clit again dragging it up and down and he glanced up at you for a moment to see you completely overcome with pleasure. He starts dragging his tongue down now and sliding it inside of you, pumping it slowly. You begin moving your hips slightly against him, tugging hard at his hair as your moans grew a bit louder, your eyes rolling back. Father Charlie was enjoying every minute of this that his pants were so uncomfortably tight from how hard he was now, he removed his tongue and slide it backup to your clit, and moved his right hand between your legs using three of his fingers he ran them in between your wet folds getting his fingers nice and coated in your arousal before shoving the three of them inside of you roughly as his tongue played with your clit and he now pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace. You gasped loudly as you whimpered between your loud moans. “Fuck.. Father…” you could hardly speak. His fingers dug into your flesh as he squeezed your thigh for dear life with his other hand and he pulled his head back momentarily and he spits on your clit and his saliva runs down to his fingers as his they continues to pump deep inside of you and curling just slightly to hit the right spots inside of you. You were so wet that his face was a mess with your arousal.

His cock pressed tight against his pants from how hard he was but he was too focused on pleasuring you to even think about himself. He’d masturbate after thinking of you to get himself off. You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take, your legs began to tremble and your moans were becoming extremely vocal and you could feel that funny feeling you felt before when you were close and now it was building faster than before and you pushed his face against your pussy and your thighs wrapped around him forcing his head there. It felt like the devil had suddenly taken over and now both his hands were on your thighs and he was moaning against your pussy, sucking, licking every last bit of you like you were his last meal. “F-.. Charlie..” you cried out. “I’m gonna.. Gonna cum.. Fuck..” you whimpered and you held him tight against you as you finally reached your orgasm and your body convulsed and twitched against him as you came hard all over his face. You could hear him groaning and mumbling and he let go of your thighs and pushed them away as he pulled his head up for air and he was moaning as his face dripped in your cum. 

“Goddamn..” he groaned, licking his lips and then taking two fingers and wiping them against his face so they were coated in your cum and he stared at you. You felt like you were seeing stars when you finally opened your eyes again, your body felt stiff and tired now and you stared back at him and he reached over and grabbed a hold of your face and shoved the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself and your eyes rolled back and you sucked his fingers clean like a desperate little slut. He watched you with delight in his eyes and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and then put them into his mouth, sucking your saliva off as he stared intensely at you before he stood back up on his feet and soothing out his clothes and fixing his collar. “I think we really got somewhere this time.. In no time I’ll have you rid of those dirty thoughts in that head of yours.” he grinned. 

You didn’t even know what to say because you were still in a daze. You slowly sat up trying to compose yourself as you reached down to grab your dress and he suddenly stopped you and made you look at him. Father Charlie leaned down and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back and when he pulled away you didn’t want him too and a part of you felt disappointed. He now begins to pray over you and absolve you of your sins. You stared silently as he did and all you could think about was how you wanted him more than ever and now you weren’t sure if this was helping you or making your feelings for him worse. But all you knew was that you desperately wanted to fuck the priest.

Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo

If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!

[azmageddon]

I Can't Lose Him (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian's twin!healer!reader

Summary: After spending a horrible day patching your mate together, you just wanted to sit by his side, but Rhys has other plans for you.

Warning: Medical treatment, needles, Devlon being a jerk (let me know if I missed anything!) Painfully inaccurate to the original plot.

a/n: This is part two to I Can't Lose Him! I plan to make a Part Three with much more Azriel in it. Let me know if that's something you would like to see! Anyone interested in a universe about Cassian's twin/Azriel's mate??

His gentle breathing and dreamless sleep, thanks to Rhys, ebbed and flowed across the bond. Like the waves of the Sidra along the shore, the peacefulness was comforting. You felt your eyelids growing heavy while you listened to his breathing; sleep claimed you for the first time in nearly two days. 

The quiet didn’t last long as you jolted awake when almost immediately after closing your eyes, you heard a whisper of your name inside your mind. Your eyes shot open and you sat upright in your chair at the intrusion in your head. Your eyes quickly assessed your tent. 

Azriel lay asleep soundly in the makeshift bed before you. His right arm was settled again, tied in a sling to support the once dislocated joint. Patches of gauze covered the many stitches that you had sewn to put his membranous wings back together. His leg, once shattered and ruined, was put back together like a puzzle, resting in a splint and arrow straight.  You could see the gauze wrapped tightly around his torso that Majda and you had done to dress the wound that had both your arms in Azriel’s chest just hours ago. You shuttered at the memory and moved on.

Across the bed, in another chair on the other side of your mate, sat your twin brother, Cassian. Head fallen back and mouth open, Cassian was deep in sleep, his light snores filling the otherwise silent tent. 

Continuing your observation, you looked to the entrance of the tent and saw Rhys and Nesta at its entrance. The voice that had called your name in your mind belonged to your High Lord. Your mental shields must have slipped in your exhausted state, and checking them now, it was confirmed that you were struggling to keep them up, just as you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

You sighed at the sight of the two, nestling yourself back into the chair. You pulled the blanket around you tighter and closed your eyes again. Without opening them, you spoke to the two hovering by the entrance. 

“I haven’t slept in days, Rhys. You woke me up.” You focused again on the gentle sway along the bond and felt sleep nipping at the edges of your mind. When Rhys spoke again, he pulled you back to the surface of consciousness. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us, Y/N,” Rhys responded, hesitating briefly before he went on. His hesitation made you crack one eye open and focus it on him. Noting the slight furrow between his brow, you knew his decision to interrupt your vigil over your sleeping mate didn’t come lightly. Nesta had migrated over to Cassian, waking him up and urging him to listen to what Rhys had to say next. 

“It’s been a long day for all of us,” he said again, swallowing thickly as if the next words were getting caught in his throat. “I need you for one more thing.”

You sighed and opened both eyes this time, turning away from your High Lord and focusing them on Azriel’s face. “Haven’t I done enough today?” 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed, but instead of turning to leave through the tent flaps and allow you to continue your silent watch, you heard his boots crunch over the ground, bringing him closer to you. When you turned to look back at him, he was eye level, one leg kneeling to bring him down to the level of your chair. His hands rested on the arm rest and there was a pleading in his violet eyes. 

“Please, Y/N, I need your help.”

You flicked your gaze over to your brother. He was awake now, leaning forward in his chair to hear Rhys’ request. Red rimmed his bloodshot eyes, a sign his exhaustion was also catching up to him. He simply nodded his head at you, silently urging you to hear him out. 

Turning back to Rhys, you signed again. “What is it?”

“It’s Devlon. He’s been injured.”

You flinched at the sound of the Lord of Windhaven’s name. The arrogant and rude male flashed before your eyes. Remembering his sexist taunts and roaming hands made a chill travel down your spine. He had laughed and spit at you on your first return back to Illyria after being Under the Mountain, claiming you were better suited as a female without your wings. The memories made your head automatically shake, pulling away from Rhys and turning your attention back to your mate, still blissfully unaware. 

“Ask Madja to do it,” Cassian interjected, aware of your feelings toward the bastard.

Rhys shook his head. “She’s back in the medical tent. She’s swamped. Besides, Devlon wouldn’t let her touch him when he first took the hit.” 

Your gaze never left the warm bronze skin of Azriel’s face. His long lashes tickled his high cheekbones, fluttering in his sleep. Despite the monumental wounds he was sprouting, you had never seen Azriel sleep so well. Usually plagued by nightmares or insomnia, it was a gift to watch his calm face.

“Make Jessina do it. Or Alice. I trained them both myself,” you offered, still unable to tear your gaze away from Azriel’s peaceful features. 

You felt Rhys’ fingers curl around your upper arm, trying to get your attention, but you refused to relent. You knew this was a lost cause and you’d be forced to leave your mate to attend to another Illyrian’s wound. But until then, you’d take every opportunity to soak in the calm. 

“You know I can’t do that, Y/N,” Rhys pleaded, tightening his grip on your arm ever more slightly. This forced you to look away from your mate and back to the anxious, violet eyes inches from your own. “He’s one of the most important military leaders I have. I can’t leave him in the hands of just anyone. If you don’t treat him, he may never fly again.”

You snorted at the irony. “Is that an order?”

“Never. Please, Y/N, do this for me. It’s a favor.”

There was a long pause where the two of you stared at each other. The centuries of friendship held you both together. You thought back to your time Under the Mountain, when Rhys had vowed to return you home, and you vowed to stay by his side and trust him with your life. But this request, to treat the one person that made your life a living hell when you lived in Windhaven, and even now when you visited the clinic there, you weren’t sure if you could trust Rhys with this.

“I’ll stay with him,” Nesta’s voice cut through the thoughts in your head and broke your gaze away from the High Lord’s. “I’ll stay with him,” she repeated. “Rhys and Cassian will go with you so you’re not alone.”

As you contemplated the offer, Azriel let out a huff of air, attempting to shift in his sleep. Four pairs of eyes darted in this direction and watched as he furrowed his brow in pain from the movement. He quickly recovered and went back to his peaceful sleep. 

“Devlon has a mate too, you know,” Rhys said, hoping he could guilt you into helping the Lord.

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t know the bastard was capable of loving anyone besides himself.” 

Rhys smirked and the two of you stood. “I never said he loved her.” 

You slid your boots back onto your feet and carefully draped your blanket onto Azriel before turning to Nesta. “He could wake up at any time; there’s no way to know.” You pointed to a small bottle on the table beside the bed. “There’s a pain tonic in there. If he wakes up, make him take it. He’s going to need it, no matter what he says.” Nesta nodded at your instructions and sat in the chair Cassian had just vacated. “Oh, and Nesta?” you continued, “Don’t tell him where I am.” 

***

Rhys entered Lord Delvin’s tent first, holding the thick folds of the makeshift door open for you and Cassian to follow through. You were immediately engulfed by the smell of fae bane.

“Absolutely fucking not,” you heard Devlon exclaim when he looked up from his spot across the tent. He was seated on a backless wooden chair, his right wing flared out. Another Illyrian warrior stood behind him, examining the large slit that spanned almost the entire length of his wing. You instantly understood what Rhys meant when he said Devlon may never fly again. 

“You asked me to get you the best healer I could find. Luckily for you, Y/N’s the best healer in all seven courts.” Rhys put a hand on your back and gently, but firmly, nudged you forward.

“She’s not getting anywhere near me,” Devlon sneered, flinching slightly at the pain when his wing twitched in anger. “Knowing her, she’ll rip my wings off too.”

It took everything in you not to recoil at the reminder that your own wings had been severed at the base and pulled clean off. “Well, that’s enough for me. Enjoy walking the rest of your life,” you scoffed, turning on your heel and making to storm out of the tent and back to your mate, but Cassian stood in your way. 

Arms crossed and a fake look of male dominance held his gaze to yours. You knew both Cassian and Rhys had to put on a show in front of the Lord of Windhaven, but your exhaustion made you curse under your breath when you saw your twin in the way of your escape. 

Cassian leaned down to whisper in your ear so only you and Rhys could hear him. “Heal him so that I can properly beat the shit out of him.” Without so much as a smirk, Cassian gripped your shoulders and spun you back around to face Devlon. 

“Knock it off, Devlon,” Rhys growled, his voice laced with the command of a High Lord. “Either you let Y/N fix your wing or you face the possibility of Seth butchering it.” 

Devlon quickly looked over his shoulder at the Illyrian still examining his wing and pushed him off, seemingly affected by Rhys’ threat. He turned back to you and you stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest and casting him a look that said try me.

He looked you up and down a few times before accepting you as his only choice if he ever wanted to fly with his armies again. “Well, then, hurry up girl! Get over here and fix me, I haven’t got all day!” 

You snapped your head in Rhys’ direction, silently begging him not to make you heal the bastard. But Rhys simply jerked his head in Devlon’s direction and said, “Go on.”

You felt the gaze of all the males on you as you silently stalked toward the injured Illyrian. Rounding his chair, you stood behind him, ready to reach a hand out to assess his injury. 

Before you had the chance to touch him, Devlon hissed quietly “I better be able to fly after this, or I’ll hunt you down and gut you myself, the High Lord’s protection or not.”

Annoyed by the pure male arrogance, you roughly gripped his shoulder without responding and flashed your power through him. The sudden invasion of it practically made Devlon jump out of the chair in a shutter of pain as it raced through his body and settled in his wing. “Watch it!” he threatened, but didn’t pull away from your grip. 

You let your power wrap around the slit in the membrane of the wing and relay the information back to you. As you suspected, it was laced with fae bane, keeping the wound from healing and stitching itself back together. With another jolt of your power, you watched as the fae bane was lifted from the wound. As something only you could see, the poison seeped out of the wing and swirled in the air around it until you forced it to dissipate into a mist and disappear. 

“I need to sew it closed,” you said. Turning to Seth, you asked, “Where are your stitching supplies?”

The warrior stared at you blankly for a few moments, then shook his head. You rolled your eyes at the ineptitude of the male and thought to yourself, whoever made them the dominant sex was truly dumb.

You reached for the medical bag you brought with you and pulled out all the supplies you needed, placing them neatly on the table Seth dragged over to you. Settling yourself into another backless chair, you started to clean the wound in Devlon’s wing. 

You worked in silence for what seemed like forever as Rhys and Cassian stood watch. Devlon twitched every so often as the sting of the antiseptic burned his wound, but said nothing. The only thing that could be heart was the swish swish of your gauze pads against the membrane. 

Devlon sat there and eyed the general and the High Lord in front of him, and seemed to understand they were here, not to ensure his healing, but for your protection. He snorted as the thought came to him. “Where’s your other body guard?” 

You knew Devlon could feel you falter in your work at the question, but you quickly recovered and continued without answering him. 

“I hardly ever see you without the Shadowsinger practically crawling behind you,” he continued. “I’m surprised he’s not here on his hands and knees offering his back as your workstation.”

Cassian shifted where he stood. “Watch it, Devlon.”

You stayed quiet, gathering the dirty supplies and putting them to the side. You threaded your needle instead and prepared to start stitching the wound closed. “This is going to sting,” you warned, before plunging the needle into the membrane. 

“I saw the Shadowsinger being carried off into the medical tent during the fight.” You could hear the smile in his voice even though his back was facing you. “Is he dead?” he asked with no concern in his voice at all. He almost sounded hopeful. 

You forced yourself not to respond. No one outside of the Inner Circle knew you and Azriel were mated, and even they had only just learned of the secret during Amarantha’s reign. Allowing your anger to bubble to the surface and spill over on Devlon would only further his suspicions. So you quickly and efficiently finished the stitches, slathered the healing salve, and packed up your supplies, all while ignoring the chatter between the three males.

When you were finished, you stalked around to face Devlon. He stretched his wing in and out, testing the stitches and wincing at the leftover sting of pain from the healing wound. “This better work,” he warned.

You turned away from him, picking up your medical bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “No flying, and I’ll be back to see you in Windhaven to check the healing. Don't take the bandages off,” you flung over your shoulder at him. Pushing past Rhys and Cassian, you stalked out of the tent, your temper brimming at the surface. The two Illyrians followed behind you without another word to Devlon.

When you were finally out of earshot of anyone, you whirled on Rhys. “Don’t ever ask me to leave my mate to do something like that again,” you hissed under your breath. With that, you stalked away back to Azriel.

[natalievoncatte]

Lena tipped back the last of her scotch and savored it, letting the smooth, piquant insistence of it roll across her tongue and sting between her teeth. She’d poured herself three fingers of a thirty year old single malt from the Macallan and had tasted it every drop, letting it stay a while. Indeed she’d indulged so slowly that she was barely buzzed.

A distant memory struck her. The sting of heavy smoke in her mouth, acrid and unpleasant but as rich and complex in flavor as her single malts. The effect was ruined by her idiotic decision to breath it in rather than allow a brief visitation in her mouth before being set free into the night air. She had been thirteen and Lex had given her a puff on a cigar he’d stolen from their father’s humidor while he and Lillian were away.

“This is a Dominican,” he’d told her. “I’ll give you a Cuban when you have enough experience to appreciate it.”

She turned the glass in her hand before setting it in the sink. She thought of Lex almost every day- not the raving, incoherent loon who’d tied her to the chair or the bitter shell of a man he was when she fired five bullets into his chest, but the boy he was, about to go off to college, full of adolescent bravado that matched his genius. She thought of the man he might have been if he hadn’t let his base jealousy consume him, if he’d had enough empathy to follow a better path. Her path.

It was a hard one to walk, but-

There was a tap at her balcony door and she nearly jumped out of her skin, wheeling.

It was Kara.

Lena motioned for her to open the door and she did, stepping inside.

“Can you ever use the inside door like a normal person?”

Kara shrugged. “I went for a fly to clear my head and I ended up here.”

Lena sighed. “I was just heading to bed, darling. It’s late. Too late to watch cartoons on my couch.”

“Will you fly with me?”

Lena quirked a brow. “You know it’s not any fun for me. I really do hate flying.”

“I know but, I was just… would you?”

Lena looked at her. Kara looked back, her eyes soft, expression hopeful and fearful, inviting. It made Lena fight the urges that dogged her. She felt a need to stride across the distance between them and tuck away a few wind-tossed locks of Kara’s hair, cup a warm hand to her cool cheek, soothe the pain that always seemed to hide in her eyes, like the reflection of something dark in the gloss of a family photo.

“Okay.”

She got her jacket first to protect herself against the night chill, then wondered how to do this. She was used to Kara flying her, but it was usually after being caught from a fall or scooped from danger and whisked to safety. Casually flying hadn’t really been their thing.

She settled on looping her arms about Kara’s neck.

She hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? Your heart is beating pretty fast.”

“You won’t drop me?”

“Never.”

Lena nodded and Kara swept her arms under Lena, one arm under her knees, the other curled around her waist. Of course it was effortless- for Kara, raising a cement mixer over her head was effortless. She stepped up to the railing of the balcony and paused when Lena tensed.

Lena closed her eyes as Kara stepped into empty air. She realized that she didn’t know how Kryptonians fly; she suspected Kara didn’t know either. It just happened.

Lena kept her eyes shut. Kara flew, holding her gently but firmly. If not for the wind buffeting her, Lena wouldn’t have known she was hundreds of feet in the air.

Finally she felt the soft impact of Kara’s boots on the ground and opened her eyes as Kara lowered her to her feet.

“Where are we?”

Lena looked around. They were in a baseball diamond, probably for little league games, in a small park.

“The suburbs. No one bothers me at night if I stop here. It’s a good place to think.”

Kara walked over to the bleachers and sat down. She looked so forlorn, so terribly sad, and Lena quickly sat beside her.

Kara didn’t speak. She saw the slight tremor of Lena’s restrained shiver, and without a word unclasped her cape and swept it around Lena.

“Thanks,” said Lena. “This makes a good blanket.”

Kara smiled. “That is a blanket. Kal… Clark’s birth parents, my aunt and uncle, sent it with him to Earth. Martha made it part of his first suit. The one she made.”

Lena stared at her for a moment. She rarely spoke of her cousin, and when she did, it had an odd, detached tone to it. A kind of resentment. She sounded fond now, and familiar. Lena knew who he was, of course; once she knew who Kara was, deducing who her cousin was turned out to be a simple thing. Yet Kara had never dropped his name so casually in conversation. It was intimate. Familiar.

“Speaking of Clark,” said Kara. “He sent me a message today. He’s staying on Argo with Lois and their child. He’s not coming home.”

Kara caught herself, eyes wide. Lena waited, holding a tense breath.

“Kara, what is it?”

“I can’t remember when I started thinking of Earth as home,” said Kara. “Just like I can’t remember when I started thinking in English instead of translating my thoughts.”

Lena poked an arm out of the cape to rest a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“You’re thinking about joining them.”

Kara looked down. “I almost did before, but I was needed here. I don’t feel needed so much anymore. There’s so many more heroes now- Bruce has a whole team he’s built, and there’s Diana now and of course Barry and Oliver and… they can handle a lot of it. I don’t even put the suit on every day anymore.”

Lena felt a terrible, frigid chill. Colder than the night, colder than death. She looked at Kara, really looked at her, lit by lamplight, a golden beauty in the dark. She was so hauntingly, achingly beautiful. Lena could still remember the feeling when she saw Kara for the first time in her office, how her face must have betrayed her. My God, who is this?

“Are you thinking about going?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I don’t know what to do. My people need every Kryptonian to come home and rebuild our culture and way of life. I have a sacred duty.”

Lena met her gaze levelly, feeling undone by it. Kara’s eyes were soft, full of an aching, unasked question.

“You keep talking about being needed, about duty,” Lena said. “The whole time I’ve known you it’s been about oaths and obligations and responsibilities. What do you want, Kara? What is your heart’s desire? Whatever it is, if you ask me, you deserve it. Whatever debt you think you owe the universe, you’ve paid it back in full with interest and gratuities.”

Kara looked away. “I know what I want, but I’m scared to ask for it.”

“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything.”

“I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of hurting someone else. What if I’m wrong? I’ve always been wrong about this one thing. I don’t want to lose you by asking the wrong question.”

Me? Lena thought. Why would…

Lena’s heart raced anew. The shock felt like she’d spilled cold water from her heart, racing down her limbs. She felt as heavy as stone and as light as a feather, and the flutter in her belly made her regret the scotch.

“I don’t want to go,” Kara sighed. “This is my home now. Krypton… Krypton is gone and it probably should be. I hope Clark can show the survivors a better way. There were a lot of things my people did wrong.”

“Kara, you can’t go. Okay? You can’t. You are needed here. I need you.”

Kara turned abruptly, eyes wide.

“Why did you wait so long?” Lena whispered.

“After everything I did, I… I was as afraid. I hurt you so much, caused you so much pain. Why would you…”

“Because you get so excited when you land on Park Place,” said Lena. “Because you sing to yourself when no one is looking. Because you’re bored to tears watching documentaries with me but you do it anyway. Because you always flex your muscles when you pop a cork from a bottle. Because you save me and cherish me and treat me like a queen, and you always have. Yes, Kara, you hurt me, but no one is perfect. I’m just as guilty.”

“What do you want, Lena? What’s your hearts desire?”

“I think you already know that and you’re just too scared to admit it.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Stay with me. Choose me,” said Lena.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I seriously thought you’d never ask,” said Lena.

Kara tilted in close. Sitting on the old faded wood of the bleachers with a blanket around her, she felt so young. She hadn’t been this giddy about a kiss since middle school. No; she’s never been this giddy ever, not a day in her life. Kara’s lips touched hers and despite the chasteness of it, she let out a soft moan.

Kara took it as an invitation and the kiss deepened, and she slipped under the blanket so they were both wrapped in it and her arms found Lena’s waist. When she tucked her head under Kara’s chin and pressed into her arms, she felt so safe, so sheltered. It was perfect, like finally finding home, and they were still there when the sun found them and Kara carried her into the morning sky.

[streetlamp-amber]

don’t leave

tommy shelby x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: domestic violence, typical peaky blinders violence, mentions of blood NOTES: takes place after season one. i might have gone a little ooc with tommy by the end #sorrynotsorry. i’m also thinking of making a part 2 to this. maybe. i don’t know.

“Oh, come on! I’m harmless!” You cried in defence as you watched two men tie your wrists then your ankles to the chair you were shoved in.

The last man of the trio observed you, taking a drag from his cigarette before throwing it on the floor. “You shot me. Twice.” He said, monotonously.

His piercing blue eyes were staring right at you and you felt your breath hitch in your throat at their intensity. You quickly recollected yourself, hoping he hadn’t noticed the little slip up in your facade.

He had.

“It was an honest mistake,” you shrugged your shoulders. “I thought you were someone else. Everyone knows not to shoot at Tommy Shelby.”

The two men who were occupied with tying you down stepped out of the room once they were done, leaving you alone with the most notorious gangster in Birmingham. You didn't really know where you were, probably one of the Peaky Blinders’ warehouses if you had to bet on it, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared. But, nothing could be worse than being with the man you were hiding from, so you found some solace in that thought.

“And who did you think I was?” Tommy asked you.

“No one important,” you brushed off, turning your head to the left to avoid his stare. Your eyes took in your surroundings, there wasn’t a lot of furniture here you noticed. Par for the chair you were tied to, there was what looked like a desk with another chair in the left corner. No machinery, no crates. The rest of the warehouse was completely empty.

“Eh!” Tommy called for your attention, snapping his fingers in your face. “You shot me twice, I think I deserve to know who you thought I was.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “I didn’t shoot you twice, I shot at you twice. There’s a difference, I didn’t even hit you.”

“Small detail,” Tommy said. “Answer the fucking question.” His patience was beginning to wear thin, very thin.

You gulped. What was the point of avoiding the question? “My fiancé,” you finally answered.

“Your fiancé?” He repeated, trying to keep the confusion out of his tone. “Why would you shoot at your fiancé?”

“Because he’s a vile man that I don’t even want to marry,” you told him. If your wrists weren’t tied to the chair, you would’ve crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Can you untie me now? You know I’m not a threat to you.”

“Does he hit you? Is that why you’re running from him?” Tommy asked, ignoring your request.

“Amongst other things,” you mumbled, head hanging low so you could avoid his stare by keeping your eyes on your lap.

“’Amongst other things’,” he repeated your words to himself. “What does that mean? Is he a threat for the people of Small Heath?” He didn't want some low life fuck to come mess up the order of things on his territory.

“Probably, I don’t know,” you admitted, scrunching your eyes closed before looking back up at Tommy. His face was much closer now, maybe five inches separated the tips of your noses as he crouched down with his hands on his knees to be at a closer level to you. “All I know is my brother was in debt to the Billy Boys and promised my hand in marriage to one of those fucks to pay off part of his due.”

“The Billy Boys? Aren’t you a little down south of their territory?”

“Thought I’d be able to hide from them here,” you said. “Until last week, when I saw one of them trying to follow me at the market.”

“And that’s why, two days ago, you shot at me,” Tommy put the pieces of your story together.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Shelby, I was just so scared,” your voice started to wobble with emotion, your tough, indifferent persona out of the window. “Them Billy Boys, they’re the spawn of the Devil himself. They’re gonna kill me after they catch me.”

Through your blurry vision, you saw Tommy rise up and sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

“Alright, we can help you,” he finally said after a few minutes.

You felt the tears roll down your cheek, whether they were tears of exhaustion or fear or relief, you didn’t know. “Thank you Mr. Shelby.”

“But it won’t be for free,” he pointed his index finger at you. “You know how to use a gun?”

You hurriedly nodded your head. “Yes, yes I do. I usually don’t miss my shots, I was just afraid when I shot at you.”

“Well thank God you were, eh?” It could’ve been a joke attempt if his tone wasn’t so serious. “It’ll be useful to have a woman to work undercover when needed. And you will tell us everything there is to know about the Billy Boys and your fiancé so we can know who to look out for.”

“Yes Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy crouched down to cut loose the bonds around your wrists and ankles. “My brother John will accompany you to your lodgings so you can fetch your stuff, it’s not safe for you to stay there if they’ve been following you around. You’ll stay with me on Watery Lane, Ada’s room has been vacant ever since she got married.”

“Thank you Mr. Shelby,” you grabbed his hand as you thanked him and Tommy stopped moving, blue eyes staring at the grasp you had on him. You noticed his unease and just as you were about to release his hand, you felt him briefly squeeze your fingers before letting go.

“Come now, I’ve got business to attend to,” he beckoned for you to follow him and it took you a second to come out of your stupor due to everything that has happened in the last fifteen minutes before you rose up from the chair and walked a little behind him, out of the warehouse.

It had been a month since that day in the warehouse. You hadn’t seen your fiancé or any of the Billy Boys since then, but you also rarely went out of the Shelby house (other than to go to the Garrison). And on the rare occasions you did, two Blinders were following close behind you to make sure nothing happened to you. You still felt greatly in debt to Tommy for taking you under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, so instead of doing nothing while you waited for any “undercover mission”, you helped down at the betting den. You liked how lively it was there, you had never worked in a place like that before and the constant rush helped you take your mind off your worrying situation. You hadn’t seen any of the Billy Boys but that didn’t mean they had left town, you knew they wouldn’t back down until they have what they came for: you.

Working in the den for the last month has helped you make your place in the gang. You spent a lot of your days alongside John Shelby and Scudboat, and they would drag you with them to the Garrison where you played drinking games and got drunk like you used to do when you were younger. You now considered the Shelby family your friends. Arthur and John were like the brothers you wished you had, Polly was a nice woman to have around in this environment full of men, and Finn, sweet Finn, his childish innocence might be fading away as time went by, but playing with him was like a breath of fresh air in your stressful life.

Tommy… Well, Tommy was Tommy. He was hard to read, hard to open up, but he was slowly starting to warm up to you. It was a bit awkward at first, living with him, but one night a little after you moved in, the two of you shared a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen, barely speaking any words but both comfortable with the silence. It soon became a part of your daily routine. Some evenings were short, Tommy would only stay for one glass before retreating to bed, while other evenings, when he was in a better mood, you would go through an entire bottle and talk for what seemed like hours. You did most of the talking, but Tommy would share some of his thoughts, maybe even some anecdotes. You loved the stories of his childhood, about all the mischief he, Arthur and John would put the people of Small Heath through. And Tommy, he loved listening to you.

You liked the life you were building for yourself in Birmingham, amongst the Peaky Blinders. You never thought you would one day leave your small village up north, where life was dull and horrible with your brother. Your mother died while giving birth to you and both your father and your brother resented you for that. Your childhood was pretty rough, it wasn’t rare that you’d show up to school with bruises, it didn’t matter who they were from. Then your brother went up north to Glasgow, and for a while it was a blessing, to no longer have to worry about what he would do to you. But three months ago, he came back and with him was Brennan. They dragged you up to Glasgow for your wedding to this man you had never met before, you who had no say in this decision, and were forced to live with him. You couldn’t continue living like this, Brennan had you fearing for your life more than when you lived with your dad and brother. You didn’t stay for more than two weeks in Glasgow before you escaped in the middle of the night and ended up here, in Birmingham.

So to now find yourself, miles away from the nightmare that used to be your life, with the safety of the Peaky Blinders, it allowed you to imagine a future that wasn’t so miserable.

You were walking down to the Garrison once the betting den was closed, talking with Scudboat about the profits you had made that day while Billy Lovelock followed behind the two of you. You were deep in Peaky Blinders territory, less than five metres away from the entrance door to the pub, when a gun shot rang out.

You ducked in fear, hands covering your ears, and when you reopened your eyes that you didn’t know you had closed, you saw Billy laying on the ground out of the corner of your eye.

Oh no, you thought, this is it. They’ve found me.

“Come on! Come on!” Scudboat grabbed your elbow and dragged you towards the Garrison, but you hadn’t made more than three steps before your friend was shot in the leg, crumbling down. “Go inside!” He told you. “You’ll be safer!”

A part of you felt bad for leaving him and Billy out here, wounded and bleeding, but you knew the rest of the Peaky Blinders would be quick to come help them. You started running, which was a bit hard to do with the heels of your shoes sinking in the muddy, uneven ground with every step you took. Your fingers were inches from the door handle when you felt a strong grip on your shoulder pull you back and slam you hard against the wall, knocking your head against it in the process.

“Ya thought ya could run away from me? Eh, lass?” Your fiancé’s stinky breath wafted against your face. You scrunched up your nose in disgust.

“I don’t know, you didn’t find me for a while,” you sassily replied, pressing his buttons, and immediately regretted it. A sharp sting appeared on your left cheek before it registered that he had slapped you.

“Heard ye fucked Thomas Shelby for his protection,” he continued, resting his right forearm over your throat with a slight pressure. “I oughta cut his dick for that,” his left hand held your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, “and you, well, you’re in for a lot more than a beating once we’re out of ‘ere.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you Brennan,” you angrily spat through gritted teeth. “You’re in Peaky Blinders territory, they won’t let you get out of here with me. And I didn’t fuck Tommy Shelby, I didn’t need to fuck no one for protection.”

“What did I tell you about lying?” He screamed in your face, making you flinch.

With your eyes closed, you didn’t see Brennan reeling back his fist to punch you in the face but fortunately, the contact never came.

“HEY!” Scudboat yelled from where he was on the ground, gripping his wound to contain the bleeding. “Get your hands off of her you fuck!”

Brennan turned around to look at who was shouting orders at him. “And who the fuck are ya?!” He let go of you and stalked towards Scudboat, pulling his gun out of his coat.

You had an out. Your fiancé’s attention wasn’t on you. You could escape, find safety in the Garrison, but you knew how Brennan was. You couldn’t leave Scudboat alone, the man had become your friend over the last month and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing he had died because of you.

So you grabbed a shovel laying on the ground a few metres away and right as Brennan pointed his gun at Scudboat, you whacked him behind the head with your weapon, knocking him out right away. “Motherfucker,” you grumbled to the unconscious body and threw the shovel on the ground before kneeling next to Scudboat. “Are you alright?” You asked your friend, your hands hovering over his thigh where his blood kept oozing from the bullet hole.

“I’m fine Y/N, get inside,” Scudboat waved you off.

“What about Billy?” You glanced up to where the strong built man still laid on the ground, also unconscious.

“Don't worry about him, just get inside!” Scudboat shoved you away.

You did as you were told and sprinted to the Garrison. You pushed the door open only to be met with an empty pub. Your wide eyes roamed around the room. This isn't normal, you thought to yourself. There wasn't even a bartender behind the bar! Usually, around this time of the day, almost every seat should've been occupied, beers should’ve been poured, laughter should’ve been heard. But nothing.

You walked towards the snug, where Tommy and his brothers could usually be found, but instead Jimmy McCavern, Callum Maxwell, Kenneth Morrow and Angus Burns were occupying the room, all four of them staring at you with that look in their eyes that made you want to run away as far from them as possible.

“Y/N, so nice of ye to join us,” Jimmy said, his voice sending chills down your back. He looked comfortable in his chair, with his arms crossed over his chest, almost relaxed, but you didn’t let your guard down.

“Where–”

“Where are the Peaky Blinders, ye ask?” He interrupted you. “They’re a wee bit busy right now, I’m afraid it’s only us.”

“Take a seat, darling, go on,” Angus told you, motioning to the empty chair in front of you.

You did as he said, your hands wringing together in your lap. You knew not to become all witty and sarcastic with these men, obeying them was always the best thing to do.

“So, hope ye had yer fun down here with Thomas Shelby,” Jimmy continued, uncrossing his arms to instead rest them in front of him on the table as he leaned closer to you, “because yer days of fun are over. You're coming back to Glasgow with us, married to Brennan like yer brother arranged.”

It was at this moment that you realised you couldn't escape the Billy Boys. You had been so foolish to think you could leave them in the past, that you started imagining a future without Brennan. The Peaky Blinders could not protect you, you had been foolish to think otherwise.

But still, you weren’t going to lose without putting up a fight.

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m not marrying Brennan.”

“Ye don’t have a choice lass, yer brother promised yer hand,” Callum said.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” You asked angrily, tears pooling in your eyes. “This is not my debt, it’s his! You can kill him for all I care, he never cared about me so why should I care about him!?”

“A deal was made, ye can’t back out of a deal with the Billy Boys,” Kenneth said, his eyes telling you to stop arguing.

“No!” You slammed your hands on the table and stood up. “I’m not going. I’m not marrying Brennan. I refuse. This isn’t my deal!”

“Don't make this worse for ye, lass,” Angus warned you, also standing up.

“Fuck you!” You spat and took off in a run, escaping through the back door of the Garrison.

You knew the four men were on your tail, you could hear their heavy footsteps behind you. You tried to remember the directions Tommy had given you to Jeremiah Jesus’ church as you sprinted down the dirty streets and alleys. He had told you to hide there if you ever needed to, and since Jeremiah didn’t partake in the Peaky Blinders’ activities, the chances he would be there were quite high and, honestly, your last hope to survive.

Gunshots started ringing against the brick walls, luckily for you all the bullets flew past you since none of the four men were able to perfectly aim while running. You turned left at a corner and Jeremiah’s church was finally in your vision field, less than a few blocks down. Jimmy and the others still had yet to turn the corner of the street, so you took this advantage to go down a small alley, knowing it would lead to the back door of the church.

You stumbled in the place of worship, out of breath, and Jeremiah came out from the back office to see what the commotion you had created was about.

“Y/N, are you alright dear?” He asked you, helping you walk inside while your left hand clutched at your chest.

You shook your head ‘no’. “The Billy… The Billy Boys… They found me,” you wheezed out.

Jeremiah’s eyes widened at the urgency of the situation. “Come with me, there’s a trap where you can hide in my office.”

The priest led you to the back, closing his office door behind him before moving the rug behind his desk, revealing a trapdoor. He unlocked the latch and lifted the door. “Hurry, get in,” he waved with his free hand.

You lowered yourself in the hole, sitting down in the small space, and looked back up at Jeremiah.

“Do you have a gun on you?” He asked you.

You shook your head ‘no’. “I was with Scudboat and Billy Lovelock, we were on our way to the Garrison. There was no need for one,” you answered.

Jeremiah motioned for you to hold the door open over your head while he rummaged around his office. “Tommy always keeps a gun in here just in case,” he explained to you as he continued his search. “You can never know when it’ll come in handy around here– Ah! There it is!”

He crouched down and handed you a pistol. “I’ll try to keep them out if they come around. Stay safe.”

You nervously gulped before nodding your head. “You too, Jeremiah.”

The priest smiled, an attempt to make you feel slightly better in the situation you were in, and closed the door above you. You heard him lock the latch and replace the rug above the trap.

You remained there for what felt like an eternity, the only sounds you could hear were your nervous, laboured breaths and the gun slightly shaking in your hands. You were about to start praying – you never really believed in God after everything you had been through, but what better place to turn to Him than in a church – when you heard the door to the office open, followed by the sound of feet walking on the floor. Scared, you held your breath and willed your hands to stop shaking as you got in position, gun pointed up and ready to shoot.

The rug was moved and the latch was unlocked. You could feel the beating of your heart grow faster and faster as the seconds went by. The door was pulled open and, upon seeing the gun pointed at him, Tommy raised one hand up while the other lowered the door on the floor.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, raising his other hand up, showing you that he was no threat. “Relax, Y/N. It’s just me.”

When your brain registered that the face in front of you was the one of Thomas Shelby, you let down your arms and sighed in relief.

“Oh Tommy!” You cried out. You dropped the gun on the ground while you stood up and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s neck, bringing him in an unexpected hug.

Tommy was surprised at first, but Scudboat had told him what happened outside of the Garrison and he had received a phone call from Johnny Dogs informing him that Jimmy McCavern and his goons were in town, so he held you against him, trying to comfort you as best he could.

“You're safe now,” he reassured you, his right hand scrunching your hair as it held your head. “They’re gone now, Jimmy’s gone, Brennan’s gone.”

You pulled away, your eyes red with tears. “What did you do to them?”

“I was able to strike a deal that they simply couldn’t refuse,” Tommy answered, his right hand now cupping your cheek. “They won’t bother you again Y/N, not ever.”

Overcome with a wave of strong emotions, you shocked both Tommy and yourself when you leaned forward and kissed him. It didn’t last more than a second for you pulled back right after, bringing your hands in front of your mouth as you gasped. “I’m so sorry Tommy, I don’t know what–”

“It’s alright,” Tommy interrupted you, shaking his head. “Let’s get you out of there, yeah?”

You nodded your head, still embarrassed of your actions, and picked up the gun before grabbing the hand Tommy held out for you. He helped you out of the trap and closed the door behind you while you stood up and put the gun on Jeremiah’s desk. When you turned around to face Tommy again, you found him mere inches away from you. Your breath hitched in your throat, you had never been this close to him before, except when you first met, when he interrogated you while you were tied up to a chair. You looked up at him, his unreadable icy blue eyes staring right back at you, and he was the one to surprise you by closing the distance between the two of you, his lips finding yours again.

Your eyes fluttered close by themselves as you lost yourself in the kiss, your hands finding their place at the base of his neck while his right hand cupped your cheek and his left one held you flush against him by the waist. It was no secret that Thomas Shelby was pretty to look at, but you never really thought about him in a romantic way before. That being said, there was no bone in your body opposed to kissing him. Actually, it even started up a fire inside you, one that you were too preoccupied to acknowledge right now.

Tommy broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours as you both took some deep breaths. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said with his deep, low voice. “I’m glad they didn’t take you away from me.”

He never told anyone because he wouldn’t even let himself admit it, but Tommy had grown comfortable with your presence in the house. After what Grace did to him, he promised himself he would only focus on the business and his family, but his attachment for you came rather unexpectedly, just like your entrance in his life did. Still, he didn’t want to act on it, whether it was because of fear or because of disinterest in wanting some romantic relationship, he didn’t want to ponder on it too long. But after what happened today, when he heard your fiancé and Jimmy McCavern would try taking you back to Glasgow, he realised he would regret it for the rest of his life if you were gone without him having the chance to pursue anything.

You looked up at him, brushing his nose with yours as you moved your head. “Me too,” you whispered. “Thank you Tommy, for everything.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said, brushing your hair with his hand that previously held your waist. “Just, just stay with me. Don’t leave.”

The vulnerability in his voice made you smile, he had never been so open with you before. “I didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you answered and kissed him again, safe in his arms.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P1]

(Yandere × F!Reader)

[Series link]

[Warning: obssessive, workplace/academic discrimination, xenophobia, mention of SA, slowburn, dense plot, not even sure if its dark romance, not sure if its romance at all]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

You knew his type. Rich, spoiled, and never told no. In college, you would see them flocking down walkways in goofy polos, or if there were events, in color-coded suits and ties as if going to their first communion. They were never alone, stuck in bubbles of laughters and champagnes and vape vapors. You were not there besides them. You sat rooted in the library chair, dropping in and out of kickbacks of other students who also never fit into their puzzle of oxfords and high heels. You didn't resent them. You had your own little life. You found comfort in turning it up in the weekend with your fierce eyeliner and fishnet when your bank balance was full, or sitting in your friends' living room greening out on Mexican weed when you were broke.

So when you graduated side by side with them, ordered by names, you didn't feel as if you missed the school spirit. Your ex was chatting up with his crowd a couple rows down, arms in arms with a known rapist. In a sea of them you treaded in your scuffed heels and walked the stadium to your fine, leather-bordered diploma and took a half-hearted photo with the dean before sneaking out early, never to see any of them again. Sure, you missed your friends, but you could always call and catch flights (when your bank balance so permits). The rest of them slipped off your mind easily like vapor.

You moved country. That was the right move. Sure, you could stay in the States and try out a desk job, but you didn't find it in you to belong. Plus, with the recent development of AI  technology coupled with the impending economic recession, you weren't too optimistic about finding a position that lasts. So you packed up and left, missing barely anything. 4 years of your life remained in the tissues your cried into in the dingy airport toilet. You called your family to let them know your ambition. They scoffed, trying to talk you out of it for the last time yet, before their persuasion became discouragement. Before they told you that the corporation needed an heir, and that you were stubborn just like your father was. You turned off your phone and boarded. Your 20s seemed wide open, soaring with you, louder than the plane engine that roared even in your sleep.

3 years later, in your little cubicle in a Japanese high school, you didn't feel like you were soaring anymore. Perhaps your wings got caught somewhere, shredded in the engine just before you landed. You buried your head into piles of notebooks, your red pen gliding. The power to decide who passed and who failed was in your hands, and the soft-hearted nature you carried with you squirmed as you had to mark down zeros and ones. You found yourself smiling at your students and encouraging them, as well as enduring the resistance from the rebellious ones. Little by little, the spark of hope in you matured into a quiet resolution. You learnt to be calmer, to hang your head more, and to speak less of your opinions. In the mirror, you saw a new face.

You pushed on, narrowing your shoulders in the subway, cooking your dinner in your modest kitchen, and packing your own lunch at five in the morning. Sometimes you went out with your coworkers, sometimes you remained indoor. Settling in a monotony as Tokyo raged on with its flourescent storm, you feel, in your quiet moments, as if you were half asleep.

Then one summer morning just before another school year ended, the head of the foreign teacher department walked in. Walking by her was a face you didn't recognize.

"This is Mr. Lukas."

As customary, you stood up and greeted with a polite smile.

"Yes, good morning Mrs. Tahara. Good morning Mr. Lukas."

"I know this is late into the school year", Tahara said, "but Mr. Lukas is the perfect fit for our school. He has plans to stick with us for the next 2 years, so I was hoping he would get the training he needs by trying out at our summer program."

"That seems like a lovely idea", you acknowledged.

"Since you have the most experience in our department so far, and also the only one left since the rest of the team has taken an early vacation as customary for them", Tahara continues, finally building up to her point, "I was wondering if it is not much trouble for you to mentor him this summer. I know that you have said that you would take the summer off this year, but there is nobody else we would trust quite as much!"

You felt a knot of frustration in your chest. After 3 years of dedicating yourself to the summer program, you did finally decide to take the summer off to have some time for yourself. Truth was, you had found yourself growing weary of the monotony in your life which had lulled you into a state of daydream. This summer was supposed to be for you to travel and visit your family. Plus, with the money your had accumulated by pinching your purse, you were hoping to finally fly to LA to meet with a long-term friend you had been dying to see.

But you knew this was not a request. It was an order. Though Tahara was smiling, she was not going to take "no" as an answer. The woman did not climb to her position in this expensive international high school in the heart of Tokyo by being softhearted like you.

"I see", you nodded, the blank smile yet to leave your face, "Very well, then. I will do my best."

Tahara also did not let hers falter when she tried to soothe you, "I heard the staff vacation is to Thailand this year. How exciting, right? It is the 10th year anniversary of our school after all. Tell you what, I will lobby for you the best room there is!"

The pang in your heart did not go away as you chuckled, "Oh, there is no need at all. Please, I am happy to do this job."

"Nonsense", Tahara insists, "Best room there is! Please leave that to me. All you need to worry about is Mr. Lukas."

You bowed your head.

"Thank you very much. I will do my best."

With that, Tahara turns to the newcomer: "Your cubicle is right here next to her. Please get settled in, and she will show you around. You have her full attention for today- I checked, there are no classes today, right, Miss?"

You nodded at the last part. Tahara briskly walked away, leaving Lukas standing in front of you.

You finally turned your attention to him, getting a good look for the first time yet. Lukas was tall, black haired, with a strong nose and freckles. His defined body was complemented by his white button-up and slack pants. The way his body opens up by his wide shoulders and his face held up high told you that he was a stranger not only to this work environment, but to the country as a whole. He still seemed alert, yet to be lulled into sleep like you.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lukas", you held your hand out for him to shake. His hand was soft, and his grip was gentle. You could tell clearly now... he hadn't been a working man.

"Hi", he smiled, "I'm so excited to be here. I'm all yours now, so... lay it all on me!"

American, you mused in your head, noticing his accent and the loud, overly friendly manner. He reminded you of the people you knew from college.

"Of course. Let me give you a quick tour of the school before we get started!"

"Great! It's a beautiful school. Can't wait!"

The moment you and him exited the teacher lounge, Lukas couldn't help but immediately make small talks.

"So... how long have you been working here?"

"Oh, for 3 years now", you replied absentmindedly.

"Woah, that's a long time. To be honest, I just graduated college last December, so this is all totally new to me."

You hummed and pointed out to him the nurse's office, letting him know that he could find assistance there in case of student injuries. Finding it difficult to simply ignore his attempt at a conversation and partially feeling sympathetic at the assumption that he may feel alone in a new country, you picked up the small talk.

"I understand it may feel intimidating at first. I was just like you... moving from an American college to work here is a big change."

"Oh, you were in the States, too? Where at?"

His head turned toward you. He seemed intrigued.

"Yes. I was studying in Texas. X Univerisity."

"So you are smart, then. I was in T University. Your rival school."

"That's a good school, too. What did you major in?"

He sheepishly grinned.

"I was in their business program. What about you?"

You didn't want to divulge more information about yourself, so you directed the focus back on him: "Business? Then what makes you decide to teach here in Japan?"

"Well, I wanted a change of pace... My family, they have a job lined up for me already, and I can come back for it whenever I want. So right now I guess I'm just, like, trying to live my life, you know? Figuring myself out. I thought Japan would be a nice start."

A part of you felt that you could relate to him. Indeed ... if you wanted, you could simply go back to your own family company and work toward inheriting it. But from the way he was talking, it seemed he had a better relationship with his folks.

"That's a great way to challenge yourself", you nodded, now leading him to visit the indoor gym. Your indifference toward him left you with a lukewarm response.

"What about you? You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

It was your turn to look at him now, a bit bewildered. You didn't expect him to show interest in what you do. Most people usually got caught up in talking about themselves, especially with you who knew to ask more questions to evade the attention.

"Oh... well, I guess I've been interested in linguistics ever since high school. This place put me into curriculum development and researching, so I figured it would be a great addition to my CV."

He narrowed his eyes barely.

"So you have a plan?"

"I do."

"You wanna get a Master's?"

"Well, higher, if I can."

"Ahhh... so you are smart smart."

Uncomfortable now that the topic was you, you quickly looked away: "Not really. Tell me, what is the position your folks have lined up for you?"

He chuckled.

"Business consultant. It's nothing special, but it's steady."

"Where are they based?"

"New York."

Right. So they have money money.

"Are you perhaps a nepo baby?"

He laughed.

"Well, I guess you could say that. But I don't want to be defined by them. I want to create my own ... my values, you know?"

You almost felt yourself sympathizing with him, but the feeling of seperation came back. You remembered the looks you received and the empty seat next to you in classes filled with his type. You remembered being talked over and put aside when you wanted to speak on team projects. You remembered the blatantly perverted things you were told, the arms that linked with rapists, the lack of protection that you and your friends got from anyone when one of them had laid his hands onto a girl you knew.

"Anyway... would you be free for dinner sometimes this week? I'm totally new and alone here, and I could use someone to show me around, you know?"

You held back a sigh as you looked at him who had stopped in his track. He still was younger and, as he said, new and alone in Tokyo. When you were just like him, your coworkers indeed did you the same favor he was asking of you.

"Yes, I can arrange that."

"Does tonight work? If you don't mind, of course."

Against the strange aftertaste that lingered on your tongue, you agreed: "I can do that."

You knew that it wasn't in your nature to ignore someone who felt lost. But you decided that you would not be too close a friend with him. After all, you knew his type.

[f1fnatic]

DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND! ⤿ m. verstappen 1

→ ( in which. . . ) you're at a dreaded sponsor event for redbull and find someone that resents them just as much as you do, if not more.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) max verstappen x fem!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) mutual pining, fluff, cursing, mentions of alcohol consumption, chr*stian ho*ner

→ ( authors note. . . ) woohoo! another fic done :p this is just one of the 17 (😀) drafts i have... anyways... hope you enjoy! see end for more

→ ( masterlist )

you wanted to leave. but you couldn't. you had always hated these types of stuck-up sponsor events. luckily, you noticed some body who hated them just as much as you.

you caught a glimpse of him before he was whisked away by one of the redbull higher-ups. his dirty blonde hair was easy to spot among the brunettes surrounding him.

you, unfortunately, were in the same boat. someone who you forgot the name of was talking your ear off, slurring something along the lines of it being beneficial for their brand if you were to join with them.

being a redbull athlete meant high expectations and a multitude of events. sometimes you were given a heads-up, but tonight you weren't. no, instead, this sponsorship party was sprung upon you by your manager 3 hours before it started. they blamed it on the fact that you were 'unbelievably busy' and 'it slipped their mind.' that put you in a sour mood. you were home, meaning that you had made plans with your family and friends that you had to regrettably cancel.

this man was getting on your last nerve. you could not handle another second of his borderline incoherent mumbling. so, you kindly excused yourself for a drink. you turned on your skinny heel and began to walk away. the corset of your dress digging into your ribs with every step. breathing was becoming a task with the tightening ties. instead of stopping at the bar, you continue walking towards the balcony.

rays of moonlight flood through the dauntingly tall glass doors. you step through the threshold and onto the unusually small balcony. the crisp air feels like a shot of espresso as you breathe in. it rejuvenates you. a light breeze sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps appearing in its wake. there isn't much decor on the platform. string lights are threaded through the railing, potted plants are set in each corner of the rectangular area, and a gas fireplace is placed to the left surrounded by cushioned chairs.

a figure is standing in front of you, body slumped over the rail. you walk over. once you get closer, you are met with the familiar face of max verstappen.

max knew who it was before you reached him. the clicking of your expensive heels on the concrete of the balcony gave you away. as did the cherry-vanilla perfume you adored so much as it wafted in the wind. he was infatuated by you. he very rarely got to see you in person, but when he did, he drank you in like a man starved. the pure beauty you held made him shrink within himself.

"i thought i saw you earlier." you comment. that was a partial lie. you didn't see him directly, but you felt him. you knew that he was there when his burning gaze was digging into the back of your head.

he only smiles. he knew you would be here, much to your dismay. he was almost considering telling christian that he fell ill and wouldn't be able to make it, but he couldn't risk not seeing you. max looked to you and you looked back, a sickeningly sweet smile on your pink tinted lips.

a comfortable silence blanketed the both of you. you had one arm laying atop the balcony rail while the right was propped on your cheek. the golden bracelets fell down your wrist and twinkled in the soft light. your gaze fastened on the breathtaking sight in front of you.

max stood beside you in a trance. everything about you had him head over heels in love (but he wouldn't admit that.) the way your hair softly blew in the breeze, the way your rich blue dress complimented every curve of your built body, and the way your eyes twinkled in the moonlight made butterflies flutter everywhere in his body. they started in his stomach then migrated to his toes and fingertips. he knew he was blushing and was bright red. but the small buzz he had going could be to blame.

you weren't sure when, but at some point your bodies grew closer. maybe it was just max, or maybe the both of you. but the added body heat began to slowly warm you up.

just like before, you could feel his intense, icy gaze burning into the side of your skull. "you're staring."

"i know. just enjoying the view." he replies simply. you turn to look at him, a shocked expression on your face. a light blush began to dust your cheeks.

"is that so?" you ask. he nods simply, closing his eyes and smiling. you playfully scoff before somberly adding, "you know you may grow tired."

"with you in front of me? never." he expresses. "truthfully y/n, if i could paint, you would be my muse. no doubt about it. i would never grow tired of looking at you. your beauty is simply awe inducing."

you were speechless. words escaped you and you were positive your blush got even darker. you shyly went to turn back to face the view but max's hand quickly found yours and tugged your body back to face him. he kept hold of your hand and interlaced your fingers with his.

"don't look away." he states. a heat began to bundle in your core. he had never talked to you this way, nor acted this way. you wish he would. there was something unreadable in his eyes, the bright blue darkening.

you silently stared at each other. neither of you daring to break eye contact. that is, until, the sound of someone clearing their throat made the two of you, unfortunately, separate. the lack of heat made the bitter cold even colder.

you turn your attention to the sound and are met with none other than christian horner. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything." he says smugly.

"nope, nothing at all." max responds, sheepishly sliding his hands into his pants pockets. christian stood in the door way, arms crossed like a doting father.

he acknowledges you with a simple "y/n." you respond with a nod. he then turns his attention back to max. "there's a sponsor wanting to talk to you. something about sunglasses. i told him i'd come and get you."

you look up to max and see him deflate a little. you gave him a sympathetic pout and patted him on the shoulder. "so then, let's go." christian pushes, annoyance laced into his tone. he turns to leave, returning inside just out of view of the glass doors.

max goes to follow, but now it was your turn to grab his hand and make him turn around. he does so enthusiastically. "don't leave me behind, yeah maxie?" you say moving your hands to his shoulders, locking your fingers behind his neck.

"i won't, i promise schatje." his hands went to rest on your hips. warmth radiated from his palms enveloping you in heat. the both of you started at one another, eyes locked and cheeks flushed, red like a sunburn.

max slowly moves in and you follow. the two of you always seemed to gravitate towards one another; like two galaxies yearning to twirl with each other.

you knew what he wanted, and he knew you wanted the same. blue eyes locked on your pink lips. instead of you connecting with his, you swerve and plant a kiss on his cheek; just at the intersection of skin and lip. your lipstick left a visible imprint almost like a stamp. his blue eyes twinkle and you smile. "you should go before horner grounds you."

max laughs before dropping his hands from your waist and you do the same. that same bitter cold returns but you knew it wouldn't last long, he would be back in no time.

"you'll still be out here, yeah?" he questions.

"i should, unless stephen hunts me down to talk to a sponsor."

"i'll find you before that." he winks. he bowed in front of you playfully. a laugh fell from your lips. god, he loved your laugh. he smiled at himself. turning on his heel he began retreating back inside. he turned to look over your shoulder, bidding you adieu.

there you stood, on the balcony, cheeks red, butterflies flying around restlessly throughout your body, yearning for the man that owned your heart.

first max fic! really happy with how this one turned out. AND OFF TOPIC BUT CHARLES FIRST GRAND PRIX WIN OF THE SEASON?? AND IT WAS MONACO?? OMG?? also, if you would like to be on the taglist, comment!!! requests and feedback are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well (only if you want :P)

[titforatat]

don’t flinch (i’ve got a soft mouth)

posted here on ao3.

check out pt. 2! — check out pt. 3!

warnings: nsfw

kidnapping, dubious consent, kissing, hickies/marking, cunnilingus, rope bondage, light bondage, porn with feelings

word count: 5,343

summary:

It’s been a year since you left Coriolanus Snow in that forest. Now, tied to the desk chair in his bedroom, you know it’s time for you to reap what you sow.

excerpt under the cut:

When you first saw Coriolanus Snow, you thought he’d be useless.

White-blond hair tangled and curled, smiling in a well-practiced façade of kindness. It had been his eyes that gave him away—an icy blue, unable to lose their tinge of haughtiness. You looked at them and immediately felt stripped bare, like an insect under a microscope. You knew even then that there was a calculating brain behind those eyes.

The soft-petaled white rose in his hand felt like a slap in the face. You were being sent to your death—and he wanted to bring you a flower.

He’s not taking me seriously. Superficial bastard. He’ll be no help at all. 

But you started noticing little things. The wide-eyed, raw-boned expression constantly plastered on his face. His mended clothes, well-done, but different enough from the rest not to escape your keen eye. The way he eyed the very food he brought you while stuck in that cage, envious and determined all at once—a farmer sacrificing his last bit of sustenance to his prized hog before showing.

When you offered him half of your biscuit, he crouched down and took it like an awkward, reluctant animal. Shameful and resentful and grateful all at once. An image of him passing you that damned rose at the train station flashed in your mind, and you realized something important.

This man is just as desperate as I am.

And that was when you knew that Coriolanus Snow would be your salvation.

If only you’d known he’d be your ruin, too

please check out this fic on ao3 using the link above! 💕