#now my heart's been shattered into a million tiny pieces

[sonia-the-hedgehog-2369]

WildBrain: Fans are complaining that the change in animation will prevent the show from being as heartfelt and emotionally impactful as previous seasons.

Sean Schemmel: Aight bet

[mooningningg]

"You're insufferable." part i, jjk.

-in which you got in a heated argument with jjk men.

part ii.

toji, satoru, and nanami, (f).

warnings, genre. swearing! not proofread! | angst to fluff! |

notes i. this was requested from like a year ago so... yeah.

Toji. the scarred man was flaring up your temper for sure, you sat at the your side of the passanger seat. drowning in your own sea of thoughts whilst you looked outside the window of the moving car. tiny drops of water was plastered right on the car window. the sound of pitter-patter by the rain can be heard but slightly muffled.

the car however was silent, toji, your boyfriend was driving with a deadly grip on the steering wheel. you both were driving home after a disasterous date. it was going on fine at the beginning but all of a sudden, your meticulous boyfriend and you were suddenly fighting with him over something you didn't seem to think about now. you were just fuming in your seat because he had raised his voice at you in front of many people, "are you going to keep up this being a bitch act of yours?" he bites, you can feel the venom seeping through his voice.

you stayed silent, trying to send him the hint that you weren't going to talk to him any sooner. he hisses beside you before slamming his hand on the steering wheel, making you look at him with a flinch, "damn it!" "what the hell is wrong with you, toji!" "now you decide to talk to me."

"if you were just being so fucking easy back there, then maybe i wouldn't have yelled." the man beside you fills you in, trying to point out your mistakes from the fight.

"oh so now it's my fault that you have anger issues that you can not somehow get a hold of? you're a fucking assassin, toji. yet you act like you can't color inside the lines with a gun to your fucking head."

"what the fuck did you just say?" his voice grumbles, and just in time for a thunder to roar in the sky, light flashes in a second before the rain came down heavier. toji took a glance at you, his eyes were filled with anger and you can tell, you calmed yourself down. looking out from the window again you wrapped your own arms around your body to provide warmness, you couldn't handle it anymore. there was never a day where you don't find yourself arguing with the scarred man over and over again, you were tired, to an extent.

"you're a fucking jerk." you mumble, resting your head on the window as you feel your tears starting to build up. it hurts you, him being too comfortable yelling at you in front of a crowd, it shatters your heart into millions of pieces. you knew you were hard to love but... toji made you feel like there wasn't hope at all.

"I hate you." it came out like a whisper, your voice vulnerable and weak. toji's grip loosened, his eyes softening in an instant with his face muscle finally relaxing, but not in a good way. damn did those three words, eight letters, stab his heart a million times repeatingly, over and over again. he was hurting you, and now he realizes it, he has gone too far now, "y/n."his voice was gentle now, no sign of anger or irritation.

you didn't answer, you felt so weak now. you felt like you were going to burst into tears within a second, " 'm sorry." your boyfriend says, your heart warms up in an instant, it was unfair, he had this effect on you and you just can't ignore it, "whatever." you replied with a sob at the end of your sentence, you had been crying again... because of him.

toji didn't like seeing you like this so he swore in him, he would kill anyone that made you cry, and if he did make you holler again, he'll end his self instead.

Satoru. "This is crazy." you say in frustration, looking at your lover as if he has grown tw heads to make your eyes shine with horrid, "oh this is crazy? you're

crazy." the silver haired exclaims with his tone sharp and absolute, you were taken a back by his response, "oh wow, don't try to point this on me when you're the one who flirted with a girl." "it's like I can't even do anything in this relationship anymore, you have this fucking vision in your head that im so fucking wrong all the time."

"you're just making up excuses, satoru. it won't cover up the fact that you flirted with the girl." you pointed at him, your eyes glared at him with your voice slightly raising. smoke was basically coming out of satoru's ear, he was fuming, "you're insecure, that's what you are." "what did you just say?" "you make a big fuss whenever i talk to another girl, you're afraid ill le...

there was the sound of your palm hitting his right cheek, it echos through out the room with your eyes tearing up. who am i kidding, it already rolled down your cheeks, your eyes held betrayal. satoru, never in your life did he point out your insecurities in an argument.

"what happened to you. if that's what you think then I'm afraid we're better off by ourselves." you say calmly, your tears still can't help themselves from falling, "y/n." "no, you don't say those hurtful things and expect me to be okay."

"im sorry, i know i crossed the line." the silver haired exclaims with a saddened voice, the slap was like a slap from reality. truly the reason why he realized his mistake. "i would never do that to you." your voice cracked, you couldn't anymore, the burden rose up to your throat and it made hard for you to say something without finding it hard. you were crying now.

backing away from your boyfriend your back hits the wall and you slide down to the floor whilst trying to calm yourself down. and just like that you feel your boyfriends familiar scent crouch down to your level, grabbing your hands gently to replace his slender hands to wipe away your tears. "im sorry baby, im so... fuck, i hate seeing you like this."

Nanami. "im just trying to calmly apologize to you, i dont want to fight anymore." the blonde says, he brings his hand up to his mouth in a frustrated manner, you stood there, your arms crossed in front of your chest with your eyebrows furrowed. your face was bear but the outfit you were supposed to wear to your date with him was still on your body, "how is that going to help me, is it going to bring back the two hours i waited for you!" you exclaim, you were frustrated, the man forgot your date because he went to a party at work. and he didn't even tell you he was going, so it caused a misunderstanding, and you waited fir him like a fool.

"did you get hurt? i said i was sorry didn't i? can i go to bed now." he says in almost a monotone voice, you were offended by the way he reacted. it was almost like he didn't even care about your feelings. your eyes by now had widened, "so you're invalidating my feelings now? so what you said sorry?" "god your voice it's so..." "its so what." "...." "answer me!"

"fucking annoying! that's what it is, you yell, you yap do you ever get tired?" nanami finally loses his composure and his words were like daggers stabbing your heart. and if you listened closely, you can hear your heart breaking into pieces, and shattering beneath you. "you... you're the least man i have ever thought to say those words to me."

"wait." but it was too late, you had slammed the door in your shared room, nanami was left inside the cold atmosphere of the living room. he drops his self to the couch, placing his elbow on both his knees as he runs his finger through his blonde locks in frustration, he fucked up.

he needed to calm his self down before comforting you, in case he hurts you again.

[roosterforme]

Oouuu could you do a Drabble for Darlin and Hangman where he gets called to the hospital because Darlin had a bad migraine 🥹 totally fine if you don’t want to tho thank uuu bestie 🥹🫶🏻💗

Okay, but imagine if Darlin' was supposed to meet Jake somewhere and didn't show up on time. That would be so unlike her. He'd wait around for a few minutes and then start to call her. When it goes to voicemail five times in a row, he would really start to worry.

Jake hopped back in his truck, and headed for the apartment you shared with Kylie. Your last class ended hours ago, and you always answered or texted him back when he called. You even took your phone into the bathroom to listen to music when you showered. You should have been able to hear your ringtone.

As he knocked on the door, he could just tell something was wrong. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention, and when Kylie opened the door, he was immediately looking past her into the apartment.

"Jake," Kylie greeted, delight lacing her voice and a smile adorning her face.

"Is she home?" he asked immediately, barely meeting her eyes before he was looking over her head again.

"Oh," she replied casually. "No, she's not."

Now he looked at her. "Do you know where she is?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, taking a step closer to him. "She got taken to the hospital."

"The hospital?!" he asked, panic rising up inside him as his heart pounded distressinly fast. "What happened?" he damanded.

Kylie shrugged. "She's probably fine. She collapsed during of her classes."

"What the fuck?" He was nearly in hysterics, and Kylie was barely showing any emotion. "Why aren't you there with her? Why didn't anyone let me know about it?"

"Like I said, she's probably fine," she replied. "And you're probably not listed as an emergency contact."

"Well, I will be after this," he snarled, turning away and sprinting for his truck.

It wasn't a long drive to get to the hospital, but now he was concerned that they wouldn't give him any information. He really should be listed as one of your emergency contacts along with your parents. Technically, he lived closer to your campus than they did, and he could get to you faster in an event like this. But luckily, after someone scanned his driver's license and military ID, they gave him permission to see you.

When he tore into the room, sick to his stomach over the sight of you wearing a hospital gown with an IV in your arm, you looked up at him and smiled. "Jake. You found me."

"Darlin', what happend?" he asked softly, running his hand along your forehead and down your cheek. You were a little clammy, and you looked tired, but you seemed to be okay as you melted into his touch.

"I had a migraine, and I thought I could make it to the end of my class, but it got so bad, I fainted."

"Fuck," he gasped, sinking to his knees next to the bed and kissing your fingers. "You're okay now?"

You nodded. "Mostly. I have some bruised ribs from falling out of my seat awkwardly. They're giving me some pain medicine and fluids."

He sighed deeply, finally letting himself calm down. "I was worried when you never showed up to meet me. Do you want me to call your parents from your phone?"

You grimaced and pointed toward the small tray table. Your phone screen was shattered into a million tiny pieces. "The hospital called them for me. They're on their way. I would have called you, too, but I couldn't."

"I'll buy you a new phone tomorrow," he promised as your parents both walked into the room.

"Oh, good. Jake's already here," your mom said, heading right to your side. "Maybe you should make him an emergency contact, too. It took us forever to get here."

"We'll take care of that tomorrow, too," Jake whispered, kissing your fingers again.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 4 part 1

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

It's episode 4 If I Can't Reach You / Let My Song Teach You, time for two of my favorite things: glam rock and homosexuals. which are basically the same thing if you think about it.

she's like damn, billy, that was ruthless. honestly this is going to make her care about billy even more, not only he's powerful, not only he reminds her of nicky. now he's a murderer too?? perfect son is perfect. I love how she's studying sharon's body with her detective Agnes face, her mind is going a million miles a minute

her third-wall-break winks destroy me. and that poor hairdo. all gone expect for the giant turd on top.

alice being truly and genuinely sorry about sharon. lilia and jen being gossiping hags

agatha honey you're so dainty and feminine, look at you. and that's an interesting and not at all painful tree shape you picked. (I would have never noticed any of this without brightening the scene, it's outrageous. everyone involved in this show is amazing except the lighting department. shame on you lighting department)

whatever alice does openly and sincerely, agatha does secretly or as a joke. parallels, parallels

jen is like, can you believe this bitch

without being asked, alice goes to help digging the grave

that is the idiot I fell in love with and I'm way past regretting my choices at this point!! I know how rio feels now

"coven two" is one of those lines that make you laugh on first view and shreds your heart in a million tiny pieces at every following rewatch. this show HAS to be watched at least twice, don't ever trust reviews or complaints by ppl who didn't, because they missed at least half of what makes it great.

a clown running from the tragic truth that her son wrote the Ballad, making sad clown noises all over the Road

when alice is called to referee as the Resident Ballad Expert and agatha looks at her expectantly hands in pockets, somehow extremely obnoxious, extremely gay and extremely sad at the same time

alice is SO above bickering. jen is being a baby because she's mad at agatha, lilia is being a baby cause she's grumpy and a contrarian, billy is sixteen, agatha is, well, agatha. alice is the only adult in the building

just one, huh? that's fine. that's fine. who needs a heart anyway.

the common gypsophila or baby's breath symbolizes sincerity, purity, innocence. does it symbolizes sharon? or is billy leaving it on her grave a metaphor for his naivety and good intentions gone wrong?

billy's romantic ideals of what it means to be in a coven have just been shattered. he set out, consciously or not, to teach something to these witches and of course it didn't work. he is the one who needs guidance, he is the one who's making a mess of things. he's just a kid.

agatha going !! when billy says he wishes he could go home. agatha covertly pointing out that he has a replacement body and she would really like to know how. she's observing him so closely, trying to puzzle out the mystery. exactly like she did with wanda inside the Hex. not revealing her cards just yet, testing and manipulating him. when that strategy blew up in her face so spectacularly the first time! she's so smart and so reckless it makes her practically an idiot

case in point: she's making up stupid rules trying to manipulate billy into shaping the Road the way she wants. that's right, agatha. let's summon another poor victim you can siphon, wonder who's gonna show up! (and she KNEW sharon was laying dead ten feet away and SOMEONE was bound to be in the neighborhood. dumbass.)

aww he's so proud of himself for having brought the spellbook. he's being helpful! he's made his four moms happy!

check, debatable, check

debatable and debatable

I'm gonna give that one a BIG check

yes I know advil spells "vidal", thank you tumblr for letting me know that one. also same, alice.

'esse viridis non es facile' IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! oh I knew my high school latin was bound to come in handy at least once in my life

(by the way the set + costumes combo is giving me such hocus pocus vibes, but you could never tell because the SCENE IS SO FUCKING DARK) (NO I WON'T SHUT UP ABOUT IT)

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAH

I mean girls, you chose to follow the head clown, you have to travel in the clown car. that's on you.

WHY IS THE PRINT SO SMALL???? I LOVE YOU PATTI LUPONE

admit it we all wished it was sharon for a moment

oh?? is that mayhaps someone you know, agatha???

and that's a wrap, see you guys tomorrow!

no, I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm doing another one tonight. I need to shove all the rio scenes in my eyeballs NOW

go to episode 4 part 2

[rhaenella]

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.7

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: the finale... once again, all songs mentioned are either by taylor swift or léon. happy reading x

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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

masterlist

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Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo and 1,292,849 others

y/n: End & New Beginnings. ONE WEEK.

✨Is It Over Now?~Say Don’t Go~Bigger Than The Whole Sky~You’re Losing Me~Now That We Don’t Talk~Pretty Boy✨

View all 12,138 comments

user55: y/n’s latest masterpiece is incoming!!

user56: YES GIRL LETS GO

user57: omg finally 😱

user58: can’t fucking wait 💛

user59: babe are you realizing you’re releasing on friday the 13th 💀

user56: y/n is like “i’ve conquered all this year’s bad luck already, no one can stop me”

6 October

Liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,450,288 others

y/n: It feels like it’s been a long time coming and now it’s here, my new EP ‘End & New Beginnings’ 🤍 Been a few sleepless nights making this to be honest. Ups and downs like always. But now I’m just so happy to let go of it and let you have it, and hopefully you’ll embrace it and make it yours. 

To the incredible people who’ve been a part of this record, THANK YOU! Couldn’t have done it without you… 

Here’s to the end & new beginnings 🕊️

View all 14,159 comments

taylorswift: Perfection 🥰✨🎼😍💋

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo: ART.

Liked by y/n

lilymhe: Beautiful work sweetie, I can’t with how talented you are 🥹 You made me cry the entire 23 mins (and then again cuz it was on repeat)

y/n: Awww, thank you love 🥰 and I’m sorryyyy 🙊

alex_albon: It’s so so good! I didn’t cry tho…

lilymhe: Liar

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Wow 💕

Liked by y/n

yourbestfriend: You’ve outdone yourself once again, darling, love you

y/n: I love you more baby

user60: as someone who’s just gone through a terrible breakup too, i cannot express how comforting it is to hear these songs and realize i’m not alone

Liked by y/n

13 October

—

You let your phone drop to the bathroom counter, blinking slowly, unable to fathom the conversation that had just taken place. Had he really just said those things? Scrolling through the texts confirmed that yes, he had indeed. The bastard.

Charles had always been the jealous type. But attacking you like that when he had been the one to… It was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grasp the depths of how much he had actually hurt you.

You’d loved him with all of your heart. Until he had ripped it out and hurled it to the floor, letting it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Yet, even then, you would’ve forgiven him. If only he’d apologised. If only he’d shown true remorse. But he hadn’t. And so you’d been forced to walk the path of mending your own heart, and move on with your life.

Perhaps a small part of you had hoped that he could be happy for you. That somehow, even after everything, you would be able to greet each other normally—that you could coexist peacefully. But as his texts just now had demonstrated, that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now. And definitely not next week in Texas. You sighed. It would’ve been too good to be true, anyway. Especially considering who you were currently seeing…

A light knock sounded at the door, startling you out of those thoughts. 

“Are you almost ready to go, darling?” a male voice asked, soft.

Right. Dinner. Celebrations. 

You had been in the midst of applying the finishing touches to your makeup and outfit before Charles had interrupted, quite literally shocking you to the core when his name had appeared on your lock screen. He’d been the last person you’d expected to hear from today.

You swallowed the bitter taste that Charles’ texts had managed to leave behind. He wasn’t worth it, you repeated to yourself. You weren’t going to let his shenanigans ruin a perfect night—a perfect date. You ran a hand through your hair and readjusted the necklace around your neck when the bathroom door creaked open behind you. 

Looking up, your eyes met your handsome, new boyfriend’s through the mirror. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in silent question, ever patient as he waited for you to finish up. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of him, dressed to perfection in a dark suit, hair neatly tousled.

As always, his presence was able to reassure you within the blink of an eye, the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxing as you gladly let all of your complex emotions fall away.

“Yes,” you nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your lips. “I’m ready.”

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THE END

but who is she with? well, there’s a little (and not so subtle) easter egg that refers back to the beginning of part 6 that will confirm certain things… have you spotted it?

thank you everyone for coming along on this ride! it’s been a hell of a lot of fun writing and creating this story 🥰 my apologies to all the y/n x charles shippers out there, but as our songbird said: here’s to the end and new beginnings…

Now, if you'd like, please cast your votes below :)

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Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx @kagatinkita @allywthsr @evieepepi08 @viennakarma @riverjane-d @httpjeonlicious @madnesstaking0ver @futurecorps3 @celesteblack08 @sadg3 @simxican @glow-ish @spideybv28 @laneyspaulding19 @tswizzleismother @slytherinfolk25 @merchelsea @1655clean @urgirlnextdoorr @cixrosie @lightdragonrayne @lxclerc @hopexcroc @nichmeddar @imthebadguyyy

[v3nusxsky]

Twofold ask about one topic, bear with me

1) If you can (no pressure), maybe a hurt/comfort with Larissa where we're able to save her life and look after her at the hospital/take her home and look after her there too? Poor girl is always looking after us and I wanna return the favor when she needs it the most

Or 2) If you can't work with that prompt or are too busy or w/e do you have recs for similar? Again no pressure, either is fine and I love your work. Arrivederci!

Anything for you

*Authors note ~ slowly but surely clearing the inbox hope y’all are enjoying daily gifts and the first instalment of love is the best medicine most definitely wasn’t wrote while in a lecture🫣*

Trigger warnings~ weems injury, Marilyn shade

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You don’t think you will ever get the image of her out of your brain, laying there looking deathly ethereal but her limbs were bent at unnatural angles as the needle lay empty beside her. The shimming sapphire liquid was still oozing from her slender neck. Yet it occurred little over two hours ago before your wife was rushed into Jericho’s hospital as a matter of emergency. Paramedics flinging long drawn out medical terminology between them not caring you understood nothing. Apart from the word poison. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, that Normie bounty teacher tried to poison your wife. But why? Why would anyone want to harm someone so wonderfully unique?

The steady beeps that flowed steadily from her heart monitor were all that was giving you hope, sat at her bedside praying to a god you don’t believe in to bring her back to you. It can’t be her time to leave the earth, you have too many plans to start a family and grow old together. It would be cruelly to take it away before it’s even really began. You hadn’t even made it a year of being her wife yet. This can’t be fair. All you could do was clutch her Snow White hand in yours and pray she would pull through this. Marilyn would pay for this as soon as you knew she was okay. All the pent up anger and hurt from this moment would be channeled into ridding the world of her crap. But for now your wife needs you to be strong, to fight for her just as she would you.

Thankfully the antidote that was administered via an IV seemed to slowly be repairing the damage done to the shifters system, due to her capabilities she was healing. You don’t want to imagine what would be life if she didn’t have them. If you found her moments later you could’ve been too late and that thought is enough to shatter your heart into millions of tiny shards.

The moment she opened those beautiful icy blue eyes you cried tears of joy. She looked like hell but she was alive. Your wife. A fighter. Instantly you smothered her in love, praise and physical touch. Tiny kisses pressed to the palm of her hand as you cried and thanked her for fighting. You’d never let anyone hurt her like this ever again. The amount of love you held for Larissa Weems was overwhelming to say the least. A long road to recovery lay ahead but it was one you could walk together. Hand in hand like always.

The day she was released back to Nevermore under instructions for bed rest you knew your stubborn lover would be anything but easy to handle. Duty practically ran in every vein of her body, Nevermore being her pride and joy and its complete disarray due to Marilyn only fuelled her fire to jump back into work. “My love, if you do not lay back down I swear to god I’ll tie you to the bed” you threatened as she tried to escape to her office for the fifth time in an hour, “Nevermore is in good hands baby. Rest please it’s all anyone wants.”

Every four hours on the dot you returned with some more antidote and pain relief just to ensure there was no trace of nightshade or pain to be felt. “Larissa? My love? It’s time to take your medicine” you cooed seeing the shifter frown like a petulant child. “I don’t need it. I’m fine now. Please darling, Nevermore needs me” she pleaded her case for the umpteenth time this day. All you wanted to do was wrap her in bubble wrap and ensure she was safe. Nevermore would cope for a few more days while she recovers, yet Larissa was never the type to sit back idly while others did work.

Nighttime was the worst, Larissa would be plagued with that fateful evening replaying every night, she would feel the poison entering her veins as she woke up shivering from the cold sweat, dried tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air. “You’re safe my love” you’d whisper as you passed her a bottle of water that you’d stocked up by the bedside for this reason, helping her hold her drink to her mouth due to the shaking. It was truly heartbreaking to see her in this way yet you remain strong for her. Marilyn now finally receiving the punishment she deserves and with Weems getting stronger with each day you knew the time would come to return to normal.

Settling back into bed with Larissa curled up on your chest, your hands playing with her silver locks in a comforting manner, you soak in the fact she’s living and breathing. Whispering words of comfort as you hope to lull the older woman to sleep. “Thank you for looking after me darling” she murmured sleepily to you as her eyes fluttered closed. You would spend all night holding her, fighting off the trauma she experienced only to spend all day ensuring she had everything she needed and more and of course that Nevermore was running smoothly once more.

The day Larissa finally returned back to work you saw a light in her beautiful eyes that you missed dearly. To think you almost lost her and then she was as stubborn as they come about recovery, to see her now getting ready for the day you felt incredibly lucky. “I love you Mrs Weems more than you’ll ever know and I’m just so glad you fight to be here with me every day. Nevermore has missed you dearly my love” you mumbled before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips causing her to chuckle. “Darling? You have a little something right there” she signalled to her lower lip where her ruby red lipstick had transferred to yours. Normalcy once again causing you to smile, she definitely left a mark on you, one in which you would wear proudly.

Word count ~ 1013

[yanderecrazysie]

Hello can give Is it crime part two please 🙏

This was also requested a ton on Quotev and Wattpad. Don’t know why lol.

Title: Is It a Crime Part 2

Pairings: Todoroki Shoto x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, light swearing

Summary: Shoto isn’t fond of the quirk marriage his dad has arranged. At least, he didn’t think so at first.

Part 1: here

“Is it a crime

That I still want you?

And I want you to want me too

My love is wider, wider than Victoria Lake

My love is taller, taller than the Empire State

It dives, it jumps, and it ripples like the deepest ocean

I can't give you more than that, surely, you want me back”

-from “Is It a Crime” by Sade

You’d never seen Shoto so desperate.

The red-and-white haired man was near tears when he arrived at your door and, in wordless shock, you let him in. The typically emotionless male had never shown this much emotion to you and it made you feel a little unnerved.

“I made a mistake,” Shoto said, “Please, sign the wedding contract again. We can get married and… be happy together.”

You only miss people when they’re gone. That saying rang true here more than ever. You had left his sorry self behind and he must have regretted driving you away. 

But that didn’t take back what you’d heard from him and how you’d been treated. It didn’t take back the feelings of disappointment and humiliation, the constant wishing that things would be different and the depression that followed when you realized things would never change.

Every day in that mansion had been awful, pointless, and heart-breaking. As soon as you had gotten home, you were sure you were in the right place.

You never thought you’d see Todoroki Shoto ever again.

Who’s to say that, once you went back, everything would be fine? What if everything went back to the way it was? What if he was only asking because you were a live-in maid and chef to him, and he just missed that? 

Either way, the answer was clear.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” you said softly, “I don’t want to marry you.”

Shoto flinched like he’d been shot. His eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing in anger.

“You’re going to sign the contract,” He reiterated. 

“No, I’m not. I’m not going back to that life, Shoto. I was miserable in that mansion and I’m not going to willingly walk back into it.”

Shoto stopped for a second, then spat, “Who said anything about ‘willingly’?”

Your expression turned stormy and you spun around, ready to walk away from him. He was a lost cause- a child throwing a tantrum. No way were you going to stick around and humor him.

Suddenly, a wall of ice appeared in your path. Shocked, you turned around to find Shoto with his right arm out as though he was pushing something invisible. 

Fury shot through you like a white-hot knife. Reaching your own hand out, you pressed it against the smooth ice and focused your energy into it.

The giant ice wall shattered into millions of tiny pieces in an instant. You felt a rush of grim victoriousness when you saw Shoto’s wide-eyed expression. He had never bothered to ask what your quirk was, and you had never bothered to tell him.

“If you don’t mind,” you said hotly, “I’ll be leaving now.” 

Shoto responded with a low growl and an air push from his left hand. Now, a wall of fire blocked your path.

“What the hell, Shoto?” you screamed, “You’re going to burn my house down!”

“I don’t care,” came the cold response. Shoto’s heterochromatic glare bored into you and you felt tears well up in your eyes. This was your childhood home! Your parents lived here! You lived here!

You ran to the kitchen and searched for a bowl big enough to fill with water. You had to put out the fire and fast, before it got out of control and burned this place to the ground. But as soon as you had surfaced, holding a mixing bowl victoriously, Shoto made a wall of fire that cut you off from the sink. 

You fled the house, tears running down your face as you abandoned the place you grew up. There was nothing you could do now except run away from Shoto.

But there was no escape. Every way you turned, you were met with fire, until the only way to run was to the red-and-white haired man. Tearfully, you trudged back to him, disappointment weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“You still can’t force me to sign that document,” you said sharply.

“We’ll see about that, (Y/n). We’ll see.”

[sweet-art-o-mine]

HI POOKS EBTUI5JEVTJWGUESN

Is it okay to request some Yuuji x chubby reader ff? I dont really mind if it's smut or fluff, but it would br nice if it's both! TANKEW KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK MWAH

[[I’m so sorry this is like a billion years (9 months oops—) late. I got sad again, gang. Also started college again, and got super busy. I’m writing this like a fever dream at 3am, so I hope you can forgive any mistakes, or ooc moments. This idea was surprisingly difficult because I didn’t want to make it seem like size was an issue for the characters, and I don’t usually include body size indicators when I write haha but I really did try. I hope you can enjoy this little drabble of Yuuji being a total sap for his pretty gf while I get my writing mojo back! - Ami]]

Loverboy (Yuuji Itadori/Reader)

Summary: Yuuji loves his pretty girlfriend…maybe a little too much? Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: NSFW (slightly), slight implied affectionate obsession

There was something about the plush thick of your thighs that practically had Yuuji salivating. His hands run the expanse of your soft tummy, cuddled up to your side like he was glued to you, but his eyes focus in on the little glimpses he catches of your legs under your shorts.

His teeth sink into the skin of his bottom lip, wishing he was brave enough to try and pull you impossibly closer - to grip you by the dip in your thighs and slot himself between your legs for the comfiest cuddle in the world.

The thought of your weight pressing down on him sounded so comforting, and the idea of your soft skin against his own could send him into orbit. If he thought about it for too long, he worried he wouldn’t be able to keep himself under control.

He swallows thickly after another failed attempt to rip his attention away from your bottom half, completely unsuccessful at paying attention to the movie you picked out. I mean, honestly, how could you expect him to watch some silly drama when your cute ass was literally right there? Looking at you was way more interesting than any movie.

He still couldn’t believe you had agreed to that first date with him almost six months ago. He had almost fallen down a flight of stairs chasing after you just to beg for your number. He would’ve groveled at your feet for a chance, honestly. He balked when you turned him down at first - if you looked closely enough, you could probably see his heart shattering into a million pieces - but his invitation to the tiny, family-owned movie theater in the next town over wasn’t the most comfortable date idea.

As much as you liked the idea of getting to know the guy who nearly cried when the words, “sorry, but…” left your pretty lips, the theater chairs were too small and dug into the flesh of your thighs, or the arm rests pressed against your sides in a way that had you constantly shifting to at least feel a little less squished.

Thankfully he seemed to catch on pretty quickly, because he almost instantly suggested coffee instead (after pulling himself together). To which, you agreed.

And nearly half a year later, Yuuji was still obsessed with you; the curve of your hips, the softness of your tummy, and the squish of your thighs. God, you were perfect.

He slides his arms a little further around your waist, pulling you closer with practiced ease, like you weighed nothing. He presses a kiss to the space between your shoulder blades, unable to properly put his feelings into words, even now. But that was okay, he had always been particularly good at showing it.

“Hm?” You hum to get his attention, eyes never leaving the TV screen as you question his sudden display of affection. The only answer you get is another kiss to the round of your shoulder, and you turn your head to glance back at him, letting your curiosity get the better of you. “Yuuji?”

“Sorry,” He mumbles against your skin, pressing a few other quick kisses to your back and shoulder - daring enough to briefly kiss the back of your neck. His bouts of sudden affection were something you were no stranger to, but your eyes meet his without hesitation, and you pause briefly and the way his pupils are blown wide with adoration as he looks at you.

“Are you okay?” You can’t help but ask, like you can’t believe he’s looking at you with that much love in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that before Yuuji. Somehow, he made you feel so unbelievably loved, and you weren’t sure you did anything in particular to deserve that.

Of course, to him, you didn’t have to. “Fine,” he answers, shifting behind you just enough to lift his upper half, leaning over your side to kiss at your cheeks, slowly gravitating lower until he reaches the corner of your lips. “You look so pretty…”

“I’m just wearing shorts and a tee-shirt,” you giggle softly, turning your head until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “Nothing special,” you muse. He doesn’t seem to care that it’s ’not special’. Just the fact that you’re his girlfriend is special enough to make him feel like he was going crazy.

The way your eyes soften as you look at him, and your pretty lips pull into a smile, paired with your slightly-exposed-but-far-too-tempting skin does something to his brain. He felt like he was melting, every breath leaving him pliant in your hands. A willing victim to your killing beauty.

His heart is beating loudly in his chest, and his blood seems to be rushing lower before he even notices. For some reason, his brain briefly conjures the image of the first time he really kissed you and tortures him with the reminder of how he finished in his pants just from the feeling of making out with you.

He tries to subtly shift his hips away from you, not wanting you to notice the quickly growing arousal in his shorts, but you knew him too well, and a playful smile creeps up on your pretty features.

“You know...you don’t seem fine,” you hum, quickly glancing him over as heat saturates his reddened cheeks. His hormones always seemed to get the best of him when he was so close to you - constantly at war with wanting to be so close to you it would be nearly impossible to separate, and the fact that if he dared to get to close, he’d be playing peek-a-boo with his erections.

“Totally fine,” he replies, attempting to sound cool and collected as he rips his gaze away from you to stare aimlessly at the TV. The TV he was very obviously not paying any attention to despite gazing straight at it like he was paid to do so.

“Feeling hot?” You try to suppress a little laugh, obviously finding his surprisingly innocent reactions adorable. You shift on the couch to face him before sitting up, straddling his legs in a way that instantly has his eyes wide and mouth open.

He almost protests - you shouldn’t be on top of him like that, you obviously look too good! What if his brain turns to jelly because of you? What will he do if Gojo-sensei and the others make fun of him for getting even dumber?

He can feel his heart racing, brain imagining a mile a minute; your flushed, ecstasy-filled face, his cock pressed deep into you. He can almost imagine what your voice would sound like as you climaxed when the touch of your hand dancing around the waistband of his pants snaps him out of his daydreams.

“Wha—? Wait!” He almost whimpers, face hot as he watches you slip your hand under his shirt, lightly tracing the definition of his abdomen before drawing closer to the start of his happy trail poking out of his shorts. “Oh, God,” his breath hitches in his throat as he looks at you, and he’s practically twitching in his pants with anticipation for what you might do next. He could feel the growing dampness in his underwear. “Are you sure…?”

His whole body twitches under your touch as you slip your hand into his shorts. “Let me make your dreams come true?”

[mjwhisperer]

𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎

*Requested*

1988

New York City

Word Count: 13.5k

It had been four agonizing days since you'd last spoken to him, since you'd even allowed yourself to think of him. His presence, once so comforting, now felt like a jagged wound. Each memory of him was another shard of glass piercing through you. The betrayal, the heartbreak—it felt like your chest had been crushed, shattered into a million tiny fragments, impossible to piece back together. He had called you "My Girl," made you believe you were his everything, but after that night, everything was tainted. What once felt like a dream was now an unrelenting nightmare, one that played on repeat in your mind, tormenting you with every passing moment.

That night was plastered everywhere—on television screens, across newspaper headlines, whispered about in conversations you couldn't escape. That kiss, her kiss, replayed over and over in your mind, like a cruel loop. The sight of her lips on his still burned into your vision, making you nauseous with every flash of recollection.

Why did she kiss him? And why did he just stand there, unmoving, as if her lips on his meant nothing? A thousand questions raced through your mind, all of them worse than the last. Had he been cheating on you this whole time? Was every sweet word, every whispered promise, a lie? Had the love you thought was so real never even existed at all?

Now, you sat stiffly at the dinner in his honor, your presence at the event feeling like a punishment. It was being hosted by the United Negro College Fund, an evening meant to celebrate his success, but for you, it felt like your heart was being laid bare before a crowd. His mother, Katherine, had insisted you attend, had even personally invited you. She held your hand now, her fingers warm and gentle, silently acknowledging the depth of your pain. She knew. She understood what it felt like to see the man you loved kiss someone else in front of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden, to have that image seared into your memory. It was unbearable.

Every second in that room felt suffocating. It was as if his eyes were always on you, watching, piercing through you with a burning intensity that made you sick. You could feel your pulse racing, the bile rising in your throat as you fought back the urge to scream, to cry, to demand answers from the man who had shattered your heart. The weight of your grief was suffocating, and it sat heavy on your chest, trapping you in place.

You hadn't spoken to him since that night. You couldn't. The moment the scene had unfolded in front of you—her lips pressed against his, his frozen reaction—you'd fled. Your heart pounding, your vision blurred with tears, you'd rushed back to the hotel, barely registering your surroundings as you packed your bags with shaking hands. The ache in your chest was unbearable, suffocating, and the thought of being near him, breathing the same air as him, felt like it would destroy you. So you ran, found another hotel, anywhere that offered an escape from the tormenting replay of that kiss.

But no matter how far you went, no matter how many doors you closed between you and him, the truth clung to you like a shadow. You had once believed—truly believed—that he loved you, that you were his everything. Now, that belief felt shattered, crumbled into dust by the cold reality of what you had witnessed. The love you had trusted in so completely now seemed like nothing more than a cruel illusion.

"Relax, hun," Katherine's soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. Her hand, warm and steady, gave yours a reassuring squeeze.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. The knot in your throat tightened as you forced out, "I'm trying... it's just... looking at him, being here... I don't know if I can do this."

Katherine turned slightly in her seat, her eyes soft but searching as they met yours. "Have the both of you talked?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on you as you glanced up, only to see Michael standing at the front of the room, now wearing a cap and gown—a doctorate cap and gown. He had earned this moment, a recognition of his achievements, but the sight of him—his eyes locking with yours, that familiar smile beginning to spread across his face—made your heart lurch painfully in your chest. You quickly looked away, focusing on the folds of your dress, anything but him.

Katherine's voice was patient but firm as she spoke again. "Sweetheart, you both need to talk. Holding it in won't help. It'll only eat you up inside."

Your throat tightened, and you turned to her, your voice trembling as you admitted, "If I talk to him, I might cry the whole time... I don't know if I can do it."

Katherine's eyes softened with understanding. "And it's okay to cry. Let it out if you need to. Michael didn't mean any of what happened that night. The girl only did it to get under your skin, to make you angry. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got what she wanted. Michael fired her that same night—he wanted to tell you, but when he came back to the hotel, you were already gone."

You could feel your heart clenching, torn between hope and doubt. "What if he's lying to you?" you whispered, barely able to get the words out. "What if... what if he's seeing her? What if there's something going on between them, and I'm just too blind to see it?"

Katherine shook her head with conviction, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly. "I know my son," she said softly but with a quiet strength. "When I looked into his eyes that night, I knew. He wasn't lying to me. He was devastated, sweetheart. He made a mistake by not stopping it fast enough, but he's not seeing her. I can promise you that."

Her words offered a glimmer of reassurance, but the doubt still gnawed at you. The memory of that kiss, of the crowd, of the betrayal—it was all so fresh, the wound still too raw. Could you trust him again? Could you even bear to hear his side of the story, knowing that it might break you even more? The thought of facing him, of letting him see your tears, felt too overwhelming to contemplate.

But somewhere deep inside, you knew Katherine was right. Holding everything inside would only deepen the hurt. If you didn't talk to him, the questions would never stop, the pain would never heal.

"I can't believe I'm nervous," Michael's voice reverberated through the speakers, deep and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound you had been avoiding, a voice that used to be your comfort, now stirring a mixture of longing and pain within you as if you hadn't heard it in years.

The crowd laughed softly, charmed by his humility, and even Katherine smiled, her hand still wrapped securely around yours, her thumb grazing the delicate skin of your knuckles. Her touch was gentle, but it tethered you, grounding you amidst the swirling emotions threatening to pull you under.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice softer this time, almost vulnerable. "But I really am embarrassed. I appreciate everyone coming tonight... all these great friends, the people who've supported me through thick and thin. My dear mother and father, who are here in the audience."

Applause erupted as Michael gestured toward Katherine and Joe. The room seemed to collectively turn their attention to them, but his eyes—they were locked on you, unyielding, even as he smiled for the crowd. "Stand up," he encouraged, his voice echoing with a certain pride that you couldn't bear to acknowledge.

Katherine gently rose, her hand never leaving yours, as if she knew that if she let go, you might crumble. Joe stood as well, a grin spreading across his face as they soaked in the crowd's cheers. But you remained seated, stiff, still staring at the ground. It felt as though if you met his gaze, even for a second, you'd break apart, and you couldn't afford that—not here, not in front of all these people.

Katherine squeezed your hand tightly as she sat back down, her fingers still clutching yours, protective, like a mother shielding her child from the storm. You clung to that gesture, feeling like something small and fragile, lost and unsure.

You tried to focus on anything but him, but even as you lowered your gaze, you couldn't escape the memories flooding your mind. You stared down at your dress, the one he had picked out for you, his exact words echoing in your head: "I know you'll love this." It had been perfect—he had known your taste so well, had known you so well. But now, that once-beautiful gown felt like a weight, something forbidden, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared, the deep connection that had once defined your relationship.

Michael continued to speak, his voice rising and falling as he delivered what must have been a carefully crafted speech. But you didn't hear the words. You couldn't. They blurred together in the background, distant and meaningless, drowned out by the roar of your thoughts.

You tried to remember, tried to grasp at the fragments of what you had once shared. The way he'd make you laugh with just a look, the secret touches under the dinner table, the nights where your heart felt like it would burst with the intensity of your love for him. The connection, the trust, the bond that had seemed unbreakable. But now... it all felt so far away, like a faded memory, an echo of something that once was. The love that had once filled your heart felt hollow now, emptied by doubt, by betrayal, by the haunting image of her lips on his.

What had once been so vibrant between you—so pure and unbreakable—now felt tarnished, a cracked reflection of everything you thought you knew. As Michael's voice echoed through the room, each word from his speech felt like a weight, pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unstable, leaving you with nothing solid to cling to. Every memory, every smile, every promise hung in the air like fragile glass, threatening to shatter at any moment.

Once the speeches ended, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience, but for you, the tension only mounted. Michael made his way to his parents, his smile warm and effortless as he embraced them. Katherine's hand slipped from yours as she stood to greet him, and that single moment of separation hit you with a force you hadn't expected. It was as if the last tether holding you together had snapped, and reality crashed down like a tidal wave, merciless and cold.

The tears you had fought so hard to contain finally escaped, hot streaks running down your cheeks, betraying the calm façade you'd tried to maintain all evening. You hastily grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the moisture before anyone else could notice, but it felt futile. The ache inside you wasn't something you could wipe away.

And then, there he was. Kneeling before you, Michael's presence consumed the space, suffocating in its intensity. His hand reached out, gripping yours firmly, as if trying to anchor you back to him, to that version of you that had once believed in him so completely. The warmth of his touch was like fire against your skin, burning through the layers of hurt you had tried to bury. It ignited something deep inside, a rush of emotions you weren't ready for.

You pulled away quickly, instinctively, like his touch was too much, too overwhelming. But it was already too late. Just that brief contact had opened the floodgates. The dam holding back your tears collapsed, and the pain you had suppressed came rushing to the surface. The weight of it all was unbearable, the heartbreak, the betrayal—it all came spilling out in an uncontrollable torrent.

Without a word, you stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You could feel eyes on you as you moved, but you didn't care. The only thing you could focus on was escape. Each step you took felt heavy, your heels clicking against the cold marble floor like a drumbeat in your chest. Faster and faster, you walked, your breaths growing shallow, desperate, until you found sanctuary in the women's restroom.

The door swung shut behind you with a dull thud, and for a moment, the silence felt deafening. You stumbled over to the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge for support as you turned on the faucet. The sound of rushing water filled the space, drowning out the quiet sobs that had begun to escape your throat. You stared at your reflection, but the tears blurred your vision until all you could see was a distorted image of yourself—lost, broken, and heart-wrenchingly alone.

The pain was suffocating, wrapping around your chest like a vise. Every breath felt labored, your heart pounding erratically in your ribcage, a wild, desperate beat that matched the chaos inside your mind. Why had you come? The question looped over and over, each repetition deepening your regret. It felt like a cruel trap—an elaborate game you had been pulled into without ever realizing the rules.

The bathroom door creaked open, and the soft sound of it locking echoed through the room. You froze, your tears momentarily pausing as dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up at the mirror, but your eyes were still too blurred with emotion to see clearly. All you could make out was a figure, the deep red of their clothing catching your attention.

The figure approached, each step deliberate, but you couldn't move. You stood there, helpless, until they reached forward and turned off the water with a quiet click. It wasn't until you felt the familiar warmth of his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears, that you realized—it was Michael.

His touch was gentle, tender, as he carefully dried your eyes with a paper towel, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to still, the storm of emotions paused as you stood there, facing the man who had caused so much of your heartache. His presence was overwhelming, filling every inch of the room, and despite everything, a part of you still ached for him, for the connection you had lost.

Michael's large, warm hands cupped your face, his fingers spreading over your cheeks with that familiar tenderness that once made you feel safe. His touch was a comfort you had longed for in your sleepless nights, yet it now felt like a betrayal. You wanted to melt into it, to give in to the sensation of being cared for, but something inside you resisted—an ache too deep to ignore. You pushed him away, your hands trembling as they met his chest.

"Leave," you whispered, but even your voice betrayed you, cracking with the pain you had tried so hard to conceal.

Michael's brow furrowed, his expression softening as he took a step back. "Can we talk, please?" His voice, so pleading, felt like a dagger. He moved toward you again, cautiously, as if afraid you might shatter. "All I need is five minutes."

Your tears blurred the edges of his figure, but the hurt inside you was sharp and clear. You wiped at your eyes furiously, your hands shaking. "Just five? Just five minutes?" You laughed bitterly, though it was choked with emotion. "All you need is five minutes to fix what you messed up? Five minutes to fix a six-year relationship?"

"Baby, listen, I—" he started, his tone desperate, but it only fueled your rage.

"Don't 'baby' me, Michael!" Your voice echoed in the small space, each word laced with the bitterness of betrayal. "I'm not your baby after you kissed that... that girl on stage, in front of everyone—your fans, the world." Your voice wavered as the images you had tried to block out resurfaced, haunting you. "I have to see it every day, Michael. Her lips on yours, pulling you in close, like she was claiming you, owning you. Why? Was I not enough for you? Was I not the one you wanted, the one you needed?"

Your voice cracked with the weight of those questions, and the tears that you had tried so hard to hold back began to fall in earnest, hot and relentless. You could barely breathe through the sobs that wracked your body, each one pulling you deeper into the pain. Before you could step away, Michael was already moving toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that was both protective and suffocating. He held you close, his hand gently caressing your back in soothing circles as you broke down completely.

"Let it out," he whispered, his voice low and soft, like a lullaby meant to calm a storm. He didn't try to explain himself just yet, knowing that words would only make things worse in that fragile moment. He simply held you, absorbing the tremors of your sobs, allowing you to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his red blazer damp with your tears. The scent of him filled your senses—familiar, intoxicating—pulling you back into memories of better days. Days when his presence alone was enough to silence all your fears, to make the world feel right. But now, even with him so close, that feeling of security was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Michael lifted your chin gently, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes. There was a softness there, an apology unspoken but clear in the way he looked at you. "Give me an hour," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't talk here. Come with me back to the hotel. Please."

"An hour?" you asked, your voice hoarse from crying. You weren't sure you had the strength to relive everything, to open the floodgates again, but something in his voice, in the way he held you, made you pause.

Michael nodded, his expression resolute. "Maybe all night if that's what it takes," he added, his voice soft but firm, as if he had already resigned himself to whatever consequences might come from this conversation.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body screaming for you to run, but instead, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you whispered.

Michael's hands moved with care as he grabbed another paper towel, gently drying the tears that still clung to your skin. His touch was almost reverent, as if he were handling something fragile and precious. He wiped away the last traces of your tears, even brushing softly over your lips, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't cry," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. "I promise I'll explain everything to you."

You didn't respond, your throat too tight, your heart too numb. The words he spoke felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else, someone who hadn't been hurt like you had. You weren't sure if you could believe him anymore.

You followed Michael out of the bathroom, your hand limp in his as he unlocked the door and guided you into the dimly lit hallway. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the gentle breeze doing little to ease the storm inside your chest. His limo sat waiting at the back exit, a sleek, black vessel that felt like a temporary escape from the emotions swirling in your mind. The driver, ever the professional, opened the door wordlessly, giving you a brief, respectful nod.

Michael let go of your hand, his touch lingering in the empty space between you, before he gestured for you to step inside. You hesitated, just for a moment, your mind racing with second thoughts, but the exhaustion from your emotions made the decision for you. You slipped into the cool leather seat, the familiar scent of luxury filling your senses. Michael slid in beside you, and the door was quietly closed behind him, sealing you both inside the small, intimate space.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the privacy screen shut, his long fingers steady and deliberate. It was something he had always been particular about—privacy, especially when it came to you. He didn't want the world prying into moments like these, moments that felt too raw, too personal for anyone else to witness.

For a few beats, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy between you. The hum of the car's engine barely registered in the back of your mind, drowned out by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the hurt, the confusion—sat like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur as the car began to move, but even the distraction of the outside world couldn't quiet the ache inside you.

Michael shifted beside you, his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes. You weren't ready, not yet. The thought of confronting everything he had done—everything he had ruined—was too much. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body tensed as if he wanted to reach out to you, to fix what had been broken, but he held back. He knew better than to push you right now.

Finally, the silence broke, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I know you're hurting," he said, his tone careful, measured, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. "And I know I'm the one who caused it. But if you give me a chance... just one chance... I'll explain everything. I owe you that much."

You didn't say anything, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of them offering any clarity. A part of you wanted to scream, to tell him that no explanation could fix what he had done. But another part, a smaller, quieter part, still yearned for the Michael you had once known—the Michael who made you feel loved, cherished, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He reached for your hand again, his fingers brushing against yours with a tentative touch, but this time, you pulled away, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to protect yourself from the vulnerability that came with being near him.

The limo continued to glide through the streets, its quiet hum the only sound between you. Minutes stretched on, and the weight of everything unsaid felt suffocating. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you do it, Michael?" You didn't look at him, your eyes still fixed on the window. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Michael's hand reached out, gentle yet insistent, turning your face toward him. His touch was familiar, tender, and his gaze was pleading. "You are enough," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that cut through the silence. "Every bit of you is enough. Enough for me."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and in that brief exchange, you saw the sincerity—the regret—etched into his features. But it wasn't enough. You pushed his hand away, your gaze falling back to the cityscape outside the window, the lights blurring into streaks of color. "I don't feel like it," you murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. "If I was enough, you wouldn't have kissed her."

His breath hitched, and you could hear the quiet shake in his voice as he responded, "She kissed me. It wasn't meant to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I only went along with it because... because I didn't want to embarrass her. But deep down, I wanted to push her away. I should have pushed her away."

You turned further from him, the weight of his words doing little to ease the ache inside your chest. "You should have," you whispered, the bitterness of it lingering on your tongue. The image of him with her, of their lips meeting, replayed in your mind, a loop that wouldn't stop. How could he not see the damage it had done?

"Baby, I wasn't going to embarrass her," he said, his voice growing more desperate as he reached out again, this time resting his hand gently on your thigh. The touch sent a shockwave through you—his warmth seeping through the thin, delicate fabric of the red satin dress he had chosen for you. "But I knew I messed up the moment you walked out that night."

You didn't respond. Your silence spoke louder than words. The flood of emotions that had been brewing within you—rage, hurt, betrayal—clashed violently with the part of you that still ached for him, that still longed for the man sitting beside you.

Michael withdrew his hand from your thigh, his fingers curling into a fist as he turned his gaze away, his expression one of defeat. You could sense his guilt, the deep regret that radiated from him. He was lost in the silence, unsure of how to make things right.

But then, without fully understanding why, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before gently covering his. The warmth of his skin beneath yours was a reminder of everything you had shared—the love, the intimacy, the trust. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was something.

Michael's head turned slowly toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find hope. When he saw your hand resting over his, his gaze softened. He didn't say anything, didn't dare break the fragile peace that seemed to settle between you. Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers intertwining with yours, holding you tightly, as though afraid to let go.

In that moment, it wasn't forgiveness—not yet. But it was a step. One small step toward something that felt like it could be mended, if only you could both find the strength to rebuild what had been broken.

The limo coasted to a stop in front of the Helmsley Hotel, a place that once held memories of fleeting happiness and painful betrayal. The hotel's grand entrance loomed before you, a reminder of the night you had fled, desperate to escape the life you thought you'd be leaving behind. Yet, here you were again, back in the same place, back with the same man who refused to let you go. Michael wasn't going to let you slip away—not this time.

The door opened, and Michael stepped out first, his hand extending toward you. His grip was firm yet gentle, pulling you close to him as you both walked toward the hotel's towering doors. Inside, the rich red and gold decor filled the lobby, the marble floors gleaming beneath the soft lighting. Each step echoed in the space around you, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders.

Michael's hand remained on the small of your back as you approached the elevator. He pressed the button with a deliberate touch, the soft light glowing beneath his finger, a subtle reminder of the path ahead. You glanced down at your feet, the polished tips of your heels reflecting the tension you felt building inside. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small gesture meant to comfort you, but it only reminded you of the ache still lodged deep in your chest.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, the polished interior welcoming you inside. Michael stepped back, letting you enter first before following closely behind. He pressed the button for the top floor—the floor where his suite awaited—and the doors closed, sealing the two of you in together. The only sound that filled the space was the low hum of sensual jazz, its smooth notes creating an intimate backdrop for the tension that lingered between you.

Without a word, Michael moved closer, his arms encircling your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. His hands rested gently on your front, holding you as though afraid to let you drift too far. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his steady breathing grounding you in the moment.

You glanced down at his hands, resting atop yours. His thumb grazed over your engagement ring, the one you had nearly taken off that night—the night you'd left him. It felt heavy now, a symbol of something you weren't sure you could still hold onto. Yet, in his touch, there was familiarity, a longing that whispered of the connection you both shared despite the pain.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the hallway to his suite. Michael loosened his hold on you but kept your hand firmly in his as you both stepped out, walking in silence down the plush carpeted hall. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your palm as you reached the door. He pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock, the soft click echoing in the quiet corridor. The door opened, and he let you step inside first, flipping the switch to bathe the suite in a soft, dim glow.

He followed behind, closing the door with a soft thud, the sound of the lock turning a subtle reminder of the privacy now surrounding you both. You walked across the room, your heels sinking into the plush carpet as you approached the tall glass windows. Outside, the city of New York stretched before you, the night alive with lights and movement, a stark contrast to the stillness you felt inside.

Michael stood back, watching you. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you stared out at the city. You heard his soft footsteps retreat, but the tension between you remained thick, unspoken.

"Michael..." your voice was barely a whisper, the sound cutting through the stillness.

He stopped, turning back toward you, his eyes searching yours. "Yes?"

"I—" You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You glanced back out at the city lights, the answer to your question lost somewhere in the blur of emotions. "Never mind," you murmured, turning away from him again.

Michael's sigh was heavy, weighted with regret and weariness as he took a step toward you. Each movement felt deliberate, as if he feared that closing the physical space between you might shatter the fragile calm. The soft rustle of his clothes brushed against the silence of the room, but it couldn't bridge the emotional chasm that now lay between you both—vast, like an ocean neither of you knew how to cross.

"You can talk to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest, as if he was trying to coax out the words you were holding back. "You can say anything you need. I know you're mad. Frustrated. Angry. Upset. You have every right to be." His hand hovered for a moment before it gently brushed against yours, tentative, like he was afraid you'd pull away.

When your eyes finally met his, the tears that had welled up moments before threatened to spill over. His eyes softened, dark and pained, pleading in a way that unsettled you. It wasn't just the guilt—it was the rawness, the fragility you weren't used to seeing in him. And for a second, it almost cracked the walls you'd built.

"I mean it, deep down with everything I have, I swear to you—" His voice wavered as if the truth was burning him from the inside out. "I didn't want to kiss her. It wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I had to fire her. She's off the tour, I made sure of it." His voice held the weight of a promise, but you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Could promises still matter when trust had been shattered?

You looked at him, your gaze trying to pierce through the layers of his words, searching his face, his eyes, for something—anything—to tell you if he was telling the truth. His eyes, wide and glistening, held that familiar warmth, the warmth that once made you feel safe, but now felt distant, like a memory you couldn't quite grasp.

You let out a sigh, heavy and exhausted, your gaze drifting back to the window. The city lights blurred behind your tears, a mess of color and light reflecting the turmoil inside you. Michael stood there for a moment longer, watching you, before he reached out again—this time, his hand found your chin, the touch tender yet firm as he turned your face back to his.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now, more fragile, as though he was treading on dangerous ground.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in your throat as you tried to suppress the anger that threatened to spill over. "What?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you couldn't help it. The weight of your hurt clung to every word.

He held your gaze, not backing down. "Do you trust me?"

Silence. The question hung in the air between you, thick and suffocating. You didn't answer, couldn't answer. Trust? How could he ask that now, after everything?

He stepped back slightly, his voice even softer now. "If you don't, I'll leave you be. But I need to know... do you trust me?"

The words stung. Part of you wanted to scream that you didn't, that he'd lost that right when he let her lips touch his. But something inside, something small and wounded, still wanted to believe him. "I trust you," you whispered, the words feeling both true and false all at once.

Michael took a small breath, relief flickering in his eyes, but you weren't done. "Look at me," he said, his tone a little firmer now, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hand, still on your chin, tilted your face just enough so your eyes met his fully.

"Do you still love me?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the tears begin to well up in his eyes, though he fought to keep them from falling. His vulnerability was heartbreaking, but the question cut too deep.

Your hand fell from his, your body going cold as the gravity of his question hit you. It wasn't just about trust—it was about everything. Love, broken promises, the future you once saw together, now clouded with doubt.

Michael blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice shaky and desperate. "Tell me you still love me. Tell me you still want to be my wife." His words came out in a rush, like he was afraid if he stopped speaking, the silence would swallow him whole.

Your throat tightened, the lump there almost unbearable. Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm erratic and painful. You did love him—you couldn't deny that, even if you wanted to. Every piece of you, every broken part, still loved him. Even the pieces that hurt the most.

But the question wasn't whether you loved him—it was whether you could move past this, whether you could still be the woman who stood by his side, the woman who once trusted him so completely.

The air between you felt thick, almost suffocating, as you took a step back. Michael's desperation was palpable, his movements quick as he closed the distance you tried to create. "Do you still love me?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I will get down on my knees and beg!" The intensity in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a split second, you saw him lower himself, his knees threatening to meet the floor.

"Don't do that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough to stop him. You took another step back, instinctively, as if space could shield you from the weight of his plea. But Michael wasn't giving up. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming, and before you could retreat further, his hand caught yours.

His fingers wrapped around your hand, holding on as if he feared you might disappear if he let go. "Tell me you still love me, please..." The way his voice wavered, like a man on the edge of losing everything, sent a shiver through you. "Baby, please!" His grip tightened, his words almost echoing off the walls of the suite, as though he needed the room itself to hear his cry for mercy.

Your eyes drifted to where your hands were intertwined, his large, calloused fingers enveloping yours. You felt the tremor in his hand, the desperation coursing through him. Slowly, your thumb brushed over his knuckles, tracing the familiar ridges and veins, grounding yourself in that simple touch. When your gaze met his, the raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly unraveled you.

"I-I still love you," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried the weight of your heart.

Michael's face softened, but the wariness lingered in his gaze. He wasn't sure yet, wasn't certain if you meant it fully, and you could see the question hovering in his eyes. "Do you mean it?" His voice was soft, almost afraid to hear the answer.

You nodded, feeling the burn of unshed tears in your throat. "I do. I-I could never stop loving you. Not even the bones in my body could stop loving you." The words flowed softly from you, but they felt heavy, laced with the depth of the love that still lingered, even after everything.

Relief washed over Michael, and he stepped even closer, his body just inches from yours now, the warmth radiating off him in waves. "Do you forgive me?" The question lingered in the air, heavy and full of hope.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I forgive you," you said softly, feeling the weight of the words lift from your chest as you released them.

Michael exhaled a long, shaky breath, like a man who had been holding it for far too long. "You still my girl?" His voice was tender now, searching for the reassurance that you were still his, that he hadn't lost you completely.

You met his gaze, your heart swelling with emotion. "I'm still yours," you whispered, the truth of it ringing in the space between you.

Michael's hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I love you," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity, each word wrapped in the emotion he could barely contain.

You couldn't help but smile, the corners of your lips lifting softly. "I love you," you replied, the words a balm to the cracks in both your hearts.

He moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Can I kiss you?" His voice was playful now, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered.

A soft laugh escaped you, shaking your head lightly. "You don't have to ask me that. You can kiss me," you teased, the lightness between you returning for the first time in what felt like forever.

Michael chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I wanted to ask first," he teased, leaning in just a little more. "I don't need you biting my head off." His words were playful, but the look in his eyes was one of deep, unwavering affection. He wasn't just asking for a kiss—he was asking for the chance to heal.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you closed the remaining distance between you, your breath brushing against his. "I wouldn't bite your head off," you whispered, your voice soft yet teasing, "unless this took a completely different turn. You should be lucky your mother saved your ass." You moved even closer, feeling the heat of his body wrap around yours like a warm blanket, grounding you both in that moment of vulnerability.

Michael wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as his forehead rested gently against yours. "She told you, didn't she?" His voice was low, laced with guilt, yet there was a tenderness to it that tugged at your heart.

You nodded slightly, feeling his breath mingle with yours. "She did," you whispered. "But I didn't want to hear it from her. I needed to hear it from the man who put this ring on my finger and promised to love me."

His lips hovered just over yours, brushing against them softly, barely a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your veins. "I do love you. All of you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he finally closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, yet filled with the desperation of a man trying to make amends.

His lips were warm, soft, and comforting, moving with a gentle urgency that conveyed everything words couldn't. He kissed you deeply, pouring everything he had into that moment, as if trying to kiss away the pain, the hurt, the doubt. You felt your body melt against his, the tension in your muscles unraveling as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

As the kiss deepened, you felt your legs grow weak beneath you, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his affection. With a practiced ease, Michael scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. Your lips never parted as he carried you, the soft click of his shoes echoing in the suite as he led you both down the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, the soft thuds as they scattered across the floor barely registering in your mind. All you could focus on was him—his warmth, his touch, the way his lips continued to claim yours with a passion that left you breathless.

Michael nudged open the bedroom door with a soft kick, closing it with another, the quiet click of the door signaling the intimacy of the moment. He walked over to the bed, laying you down with a gentleness that belied the intensity of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body hovering over yours as you sank into the plush mattress.

His hand roamed your arms, fingers trailing over your soft skin, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. Slowly, he reached for the straps of your dress, pulling them down with deliberate care, his lips never leaving yours. You lifted your arms, letting the dress slide off, pooling in a rich, crimson stain on the floor, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties.

Michael's lips moved from yours, trailing down your cheek and along your neck, each kiss sending a shiver of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your skin as he found the pulse point at your throat, sucking gently, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. The intoxicating mix of your pheromones and the familiar scent of your skin only spurred him on, heightening the moment as his kisses grew more fervent.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you let out a quiet gasp. He pressed his body against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more. The way his lips worshipped your skin, the way his hands explored every inch of you—it was as if he was trying to memorize you, to make up for every wrong with each kiss, each touch.

With each breath, each kiss that grazed your skin, Michael was more than just a reminder of the love you shared—he was a force pulling you deeper into that connection, a tether to something unbreakable, even in the face of all your doubts. His lips moved like a soft whisper, trailing reverently down the curve of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. As his mouth traveled lower, the ache in your chest, the heaviness of the past few days, began to unravel, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him—of the man you could never stop loving, no matter how hard you tried.

Michael paused at your chest, kissing delicately down the valley between your breasts before continuing his descent. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. When he reached your stomach, his breath warm against your skin, he shed his red blazer in a single fluid motion, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor echoing faintly in the room. The air felt charged between you, a silent promise hanging in the space as his lips continued downward, inch by inch, until they found the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

His teeth grazed the waistband of your panties, latching onto the delicate fabric as he slowly, teasingly, tugged them down your legs. The sensation was tantalizing, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin as the lace fell away, pooling on the floor beneath you. Now, you were laid completely bare before him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that left your heart racing, but trusting him entirely.

Michael's hands found your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided your legs back toward your chest, your knees brushing softly against your skin. He kissed along your inner thighs with a tenderness that nearly undid you, each press of his lips a silent declaration of his love, his devotion. The heat of his mouth sent shivers up your spine, a delicious contrast to the cool air of the room, and your body instinctively arched toward him, seeking more of his touch.

"Michael..." you breathed, the sound barely a whisper, your voice heavy with longing. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his attention fully focused on you, on pleasing you, on reminding you that his love had never wavered.

With slow, measured care, he spread your legs wider, revealing the most intimate part of yourself to him. His eyes darkened with desire as he kissed the soft skin around your center, brushing his lips against your folds in a way that made your breath hitch. The anticipation coiled tightly in your core, your entire body attuned to every movement he made.

When his tongue flicked out, tasting the arousal that had already begun to glisten on your skin, a shuddering moan escaped your lips. "Oh God," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows, fingers tangling in the sheets as pleasure rippled through you.

Michael's fingers slid between your folds, his touch firm yet tender as he parted them, exposing you fully to him. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, flicking it in quick, teasing motions that made you gasp for breath, your body instinctively arching into him. He sucked gently on the sensitive nub, his lips moving with practiced ease, as if worshipping the very core of your pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with the intensity of it.

His tongue moved lower, dipping into your entrance, thrusting slowly in and out as he tasted you, the warmth of your walls clenching around him with every movement. The sensation of his tongue exploring you, combined with the rhythmic strokes on your clit, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building with each passing second.

"Don't stop," you begged, your voice breathless, desperate, as your fingers found their way into his hair. You tugged gently, not wanting to hurt him but needing something to hold onto as your body teetered on the edge of release.

Michael groaned softly against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure through your core. He doubled down, flicking his tongue with more intensity over your clit while thrusting it deeper inside you, his lips moving in perfect rhythm. The pressure was building, an inferno in your belly, and you could feel yourself spiraling toward release, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, chasing that edge, that moment of bliss that was so close you could taste it.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the pleasure built with a tantalizing intensity. Your body trembled, hips instinctively grinding against his face, chasing that elusive release he was masterfully guiding you toward. The tension in your core twisted tighter, every nerve electrified, every sensation amplified as you teetered on the edge of bliss.

Michael's fingers slid inside you with ease, his middle and ring fingers curling just right, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. His tongue, slick and warm, moved back to your clit, the soft flicks sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. His pace was steady, controlled, each movement deliberate as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your arousal coating them in a glistening sheen.

He rested his head against your left thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue moved lazily over your sensitive nub, each slow flick driving you mad with need. He was edging you, teasing you with the slow, deliberate pace, keeping you right on the precipice without allowing you to fall over.

"Michael, I'm so close," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation, your body arching toward him, begging for release.

But instead of giving you what you craved, he slowed down. His fingers moved inside you with an agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles over your clit, drawing out the moment. The tension in your core tightened even further, the pleasure building but never quite reaching that peak. He was toying with you, pushing you to the brink and pulling you back, and it was driving you wild.

"Michael, please!" you whimpered, your voice raw with need, your fingers digging into the sheets as you writhed beneath him, desperate for more.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and molten with desire. Those big, brown eyes—eyes that had always held you captive—drew you in even deeper, pulling you into the depths of his love and passion. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own, but beneath it all was the tenderness that had always made your heart ache for him.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit again, drawing another desperate moan from your lips.

"Michael... please, I want to cum," you begged, the words tumbling out in a breathless plea. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding back, your core burning with the need for release.

A small, wicked smile tugged at his lips as he curled his fingers inside you again, pressing deeper, finding that sweet spot with precision. You gasped, your entire body shuddering as pleasure flooded through you, your walls clenching around his fingers. His tongue resumed its slow, torturous rhythm on your clit, flicking over it with deliberate care, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go for me," he whispered against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with command, "I want to feel you fall apart."

With that, he curved his fingers even more, pressing into that perfect spot inside you while his tongue picked up speed, flicking and swirling over your sensitive nub. Your body jolted, every muscle tensing as the pleasure built to a breaking point. You were so close—too close.

And then, with one final flick of his tongue, everything snapped.

A wave of euphoria crashed over you, your body convulsing as you came undone beneath him. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as your release washed over you in powerful waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling as the pleasure consumed you, white-hot and overwhelming.

Michael didn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering, trembling mess beneath him. He coaxed every last bit of pleasure from your body, his touch firm but gentle, his mouth worshipping you as you rode the high.

Finally, when you could take no more, your body spent and trembling, he slowed down, his fingers slipping out of you with a wet sound as he kissed his way back up your body. His lips brushed softly against your skin, each kiss tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of the pleasure he had just given you.

He hovered above you, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you with that same, unwavering affection. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled up at him, still breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body continued to hum with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with meaning, your heart swelling with the fullness of the moment.

Michael's dark eyes never left yours as he stood straight, the intensity in his gaze making the room feel smaller, the air thicker with anticipation. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his black shirt, each flick of his fingers deliberate, almost torturously slow, revealing the smooth expanse of his bare chest beneath. Your eyes followed every motion, captivated by the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the light catching on the sheen of sweat that still lingered from earlier.

He shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor without care. The fabric barely made a sound as it crumpled at his feet, but the sight of him standing there, shirtless, was enough to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved to his belt, the soft click of metal as he unbuckled it echoing in the quiet room. The leather slid from the loops with a quiet hiss before joining the shirt on the floor with a muted thud, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your pulse quickening as you watched him with wide eyes. Michael didn't say a word as he reached out, his large hands wrapping gently around your waist as he pulled you to your feet, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. The moment his lips met yours, the world around you melted away. The kiss was deep, fervent, full of passion, his lips moving against yours as if they were searching for something, something only you could give him.

A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss, as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The heat of his body, the firmness of his chest against you—it was intoxicating. You could feel the pulse of his need radiating from him, mirrored in the way your own body responded.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned them. The sound of the zipper lowering was lost in the fervor of the moment. With practiced ease, you slid the pants down, but before you could go any further, Michael caught your hand, guiding it beneath the waistband of his briefs. The heat of him was startling, the hardness unmistakable as your fingers wrapped around him, feeling him pulse and grow under your touch.

A shiver ran through you, your pulse quickening as the kiss deepened, your lips moving in a frantic dance of passion. You backed Michael up, the two of you moving in sync, until his back met the wall with a soft thud. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, the words rough and raw, filled with all the emotions that had been building between you.

Your eyes flicked from his lips, now swollen from the kiss, to his eyes, dark and full of longing. "I love you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath as you gave his hardened shaft a teasing squeeze.

Michael's breath hitched, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a slow, sensual kiss. The intensity of it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back toward the bed. Your body gave way to the soft mattress, the sheets cool against your skin as you collapsed onto it, your breath coming in short gasps as you watched him shed the rest of his clothes.

The sight of him standing there, fully bare, took your breath away. His body was a masterpiece of lean muscle, every curve and line a testament to his years of dancing. His abs were defined, his skin smooth and glistening under the soft light. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the slight sheen of sweat catching the light. But it was the way his hardened length stood thick and proud, the veins running along its length prominent and pulsing, that had your pulse racing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with awe as he moved toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shifted, dragging yourself up toward the headboard, watching as Michael climbed onto the bed, his movements slow, predatory. He hovered over you, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each kiss, each flick of his tongue, sent shivers racing through you, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

When his lips reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark with desire. He placed a soft, lingering kiss against your folds, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Michael held his hardened length in his hand, stroking himself slowly, his eyes never leaving your face as he teased you with the sight of him. His tip was slick with precum, the thick skin pulling back with each stroke, revealing the sensitive head that glistened in the low light.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing over your stomach, your chest, until finally, they found your neck. His body pressed against yours, his warmth surrounding you, the weight of him a comforting presence as his lips found yours again.

You could feel the heat of his shaft against you, the swollen tip brushing teasingly over your slick folds, sending a pulse of raw desire coursing through your body. The anticipation was electric, the air between you humming with unspoken longing as his breath mingled with yours, every brush of his skin against yours a promise of what was to come.

The teasing glide of his tip against your entrance had your heart racing, your core tightening with every soft, deliberate movement. His gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, making you feel like the only person in the world.

"You ready?" His voice was deep, laced with both tenderness and need, as he continued to nudge himself against your entrance, his precum mixing with the wetness that had already begun to gather there. The slick friction of him against you made your breath catch in your throat, and you could only nod, the words barely able to form on your lips.

"Yes, Michael," you breathed, your voice soft, trembling with the weight of desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Michael's hand moved with practiced ease, gently lifting your left leg and draping it over his shoulder, the position opening you up to him completely. The warmth of his body was overwhelming, the sheer size of him pressing into you making you shudder with anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip of his length inside, his every movement deliberate as he stretched you, inch by agonizing inch.

You gasped, your head falling back against the pillow as he filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisite. The stretch, the fullness of him inside you, made every nerve ending in your body come alive, your slick walls pulsing around him, adjusting to the invasion.

"Shh, relax, baby," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. His eyes, dark and full of heat, flickered up to meet yours before dipping down, captivated by the sight of himself sinking deeper into your warmth. He took his time, easing in slowly, savoring every inch as your body stretched to accommodate him.

The feeling of being completely filled sent a shudder through you, your body tightening around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The fullness, the delicious stretch of him inside you, was overwhelming, and yet, all you wanted was more. His slow movements in and out were almost torturous, dragging out the pleasure, making you hyperaware of every inch of him.

Your eyes followed his, both of you transfixed by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately. His thick shaft glistened with your arousal, every movement making it shine under the soft, dim light. The way he slid in and out of you, slow and steady, left a trail of slick wetness that only added to the growing intensity of the moment.

Michael's breath came in shallow gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched your bodies come together again and again. The look on his face, the pure, unfiltered desire, sent a thrill through you, your own breaths turning into soft, shaky moans. Each thrust, each pull, was deliberate, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had you climbing higher and higher.

He reached out, his hand cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection made your heart stutter, your body arching into his as he sank even deeper, the pressure building inside you unbearable in the most delicious way. Your moans were muffled against his lips, the sound of them only making him chuckle low in his throat.

He broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours as he whispered, "You feel so good, baby."

And then, he went deeper, pushing past the point of teasing, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, your body jerking in response. A cry escaped you, your hand flying to his abdomen, fingers splaying against the hard planes of his stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. But the truth was, you didn't want him to stop; if anything, you wanted more. Needed more.

Michael's chuckle was dark, knowing, his hand slipping from your face to your waist, holding you firmly as he thrust deeper, his pace still slow but each movement precise, deliberate. The tension was coiling tighter inside you, the heat building with every second. You could feel the pressure mounting, every nerve in your body on fire as you teetered on the edge, waiting for that final push.

"More, Michael," you pleaded, the need in your voice thick and trembling, your nails pressing into his skin with desperation. Every inch of your body was taut, straining toward the release you craved, but Michael was in control, holding you just at the edge.

"You want more?" His breath was hot and teasing against your lips, his deep voice vibrating through your chest. You nodded eagerly, your body arching into him, but Michael's dark chuckle made your heart flutter with both frustration and desire.

"I'm taking my time tonight, baby," he murmured, the words a slow, deliberate promise as his hips rocked forward again, his thrusts measured, almost torturous. "I'm not rushing anything."

A gasp tore from your lips as he pushed deeper, his tip brushing against your cervix with each precise movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your muscles tensed, clinging to him even tighter, your breaths coming out in ragged, desperate pants.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice a broken whisper as you held onto him like a lifeline, his warmth and weight grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

His lips found the crook of your neck, soft and slow as he pressed tender kisses against your skin, the heat of his body melding with yours as he shifted, pressing deeper, stretching you further. Your leg still rested over his shoulder, his grip on your waist firm but gentle, pulling you even closer.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate, designed to make you feel every inch of him. It was maddening—the way he held back, savoring the moment, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into the rhythm of his hips. This wasn't just about pleasure—it was about making up for everything, about showing you just how much you meant to him. The love and regret hung between every breath, every deep plunge inside of you.

"Oh god, Michael..." you moaned, your voice cracking as your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint marks in your wake. His name was a soft plea, a prayer, whispered against his ear. The sound seemed to ignite something in him, urging him on, though his pace remained maddeningly slow, each thrust a steady, rhythmic beat like the pulse of a heart.

Your bodies were slick where they met, a sheen of sweat and arousal coating both of you, making the friction both unbearable and intoxicating. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his shaft stretching you to your limit, his tip pressing against all the right spots. Each slow retreat left you aching for more, but when he filled you again, it was like he was made to fit perfectly inside of you, his length pulsing in time with your own heartbeat.

He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, gripping him tighter with every slow thrust. The pressure inside of you was building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each deliberate movement of his hips.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as his hand cupped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were filled with heat, with the need to hear you say it.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as his lips trailed over your neck, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. His hips continued their slow, devastating rhythm, driving you mad with need. "Tell me," he coaxed again, his voice low and rough, a command hidden within the soft plea.

"I want you," you finally gasped, your voice broken and breathless, your body trembling beneath him. "All of you," you moaned, your words spilling out between labored breaths.

Michael's lips brushed against your ear, a soft kiss filled with reverence and need. "You have all of me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything." His words were a vow, one that made your heart swell as his hands gripped you tighter.

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, your moans vibrating against his skin. He responded with a deep groan of his own, his body pressing harder into yours as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His tongue flicked out, teasing your skin, before his lips latched onto your throat, sucking gently but firmly, his intention clear. He wanted to mark you, to claim you all over again, as if the love you shared could somehow be stamped into your skin.

His slow, deep thrusts had you teetering on the edge, your core burning with the need for release. The tension inside you was unbearable, your body trembling as the pressure mounted, threatening to break. You were so close, so desperately close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your walls clenched around him, could hear it in the breathless moans that escaped your lips.

Michael's lips hovered just above your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing as he whispered, "I can feel it, baby. You're so close. Just let go for me."

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, the rumble of it vibrating through your core. You were on the edge, teetering on that precipice of pleasure that only he could push you over. "Michael, please..." Your voice cracked, laced with desperation, the heat in your body growing unbearable. You clawed at his skin, nails raking along his back in a silent, aching plea for more.

His mouth lingered at your neck, his breath teasing your sensitive skin, and his voice dripped with both power and tenderness. "What is it, beautiful? Tell me what you want."

You could barely breathe as you looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide with need. "Harder," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to find the strength to speak. The tension between you was almost unbearable, a heavy, charged silence that echoed in the room.

For a moment, he just watched you, his dark, molten gaze searching your face, savoring every flicker of emotion. His slow, deliberate thrusts continued, each one calculated, driving you wild with the need for more. He was holding back, teasing you, savoring your frustration. Then, without warning, his pace changed. His hips snapped forward with a force that took your breath away, his body slamming into yours with raw, unbridled intensity.

The shock of it ripped a cry from your throat, the sound broken and jagged, your moans turning into desperate, breathless screams that echoed off the walls. His name left your lips in a shattered gasp, "Michael!" The sharp, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin filled the space, each powerful thrust driving him deeper, harder, shaking you to your very core.

His hand found your chin, gripping it possessively as he tilted your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was fire there—an intensity that left you breathless. He leaned down, his lips rough as they claimed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a possessive mark. Each kiss felt like a brand, a reminder of the connection, the tether that held you both together in this feverish moment.

"You feel that?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a deep, dark growl that sent a shudder through your body. "I can feel how close you are... just let go, baby. Let it out."

You tried to resist, tried to hold on to the last thread of control, but it was slipping, unraveling with every brutal thrust of his hips. Each time he moved inside you, he hit that perfect spot, the one that had your body trembling, your mind slipping into a haze of pleasure. The tension inside you snapped all at once, a white-hot wave crashing over you as your body shattered. You convulsed beneath him, your muscles tightening around him, your release coming in violent, uncontrollable spasms.

Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin as you cried out, your voice lost in the storm of sensation. You could feel your own slickness coating him, your release mixing with his as he kept moving, unrelenting, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you.

"Oh, just like that," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl as he felt your body responding to him. The tight, pulsing grip of your walls drove him closer to the edge, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as his body tensed, the muscles in his back tightening under your hands.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into you, his release coming in deep, shuddering waves. His moan was raw, broken, his breath ragged against your neck as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of him inside you sent another ripple of pleasure through your body, your walls milking him for every last drop, the heat of him flooding your core.

Michael collapsed against you, his body heavy as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath still ragged and uneven. He was still moving inside you, slow, languid thrusts as he rode out the last waves of his release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him, utterly spent.

You could feel his seed seeping out of you, mingling with your own, slicking the insides of your thighs and the rumpled sheets beneath you. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the aftermath of what you had just shared.

For a few long moments, the two of you just lay there, tangled together, the only sound the soft, heavy rhythm of your breathing. His heartbeat pounded against your chest, still racing, in sync with your own.

Slowly, Michael pulled out of you, his length slipping from your body with a wet, slick sound that left you trembling. He carefully lowered your leg from his shoulder, his hands trailing down your thigh, his touch soft, gentle in the aftermath. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, your body feeling strangely empty without him inside you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your hip, then your stomach, working his way up to your chest, leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. Finally, his lips found yours again, capturing you in a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."

Your body was too exhausted to respond, but you smiled softly, your heart swelling with the warmth of his words. He eased off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp washcloth. Gently, he wiped away the sweat and the sticky mess of your shared release, his movements slow and careful, full of love and tenderness.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his body soothing your trembling limbs.

His lips found your ear once more, brushing against your skin as his breath came in soft, warm waves. The simple, quiet intimacy of the moment felt profound as he whispered, "Hey."

You stirred in his arms, your body moving instinctively closer, seeking the comfort of his embrace. The bed felt like a sanctuary, the covers a cocoon around you both, holding you in this fragile moment. Your hand slipped out from beneath the blankets, your fingers trailing across his chest before coming up to his face. Your touch was gentle, delicate, as if you were tracing the very essence of him.

The room was bathed in a pale, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming through the window, casting soft shadows across his face. His strong features were softened by the light, the sharp lines of his jaw now gentle curves under your thumb as you traced the rough stubble there. His skin was warm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his muscles begin to relax as you caressed him.

"You mean it, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, the vulnerability in his tone raw and exposed in a way you didn't often hear. It trembled slightly, a hint of insecurity laced beneath the question. "You still love me?"

The weight of his words lingered in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time, like he was afraid of the answer despite knowing it deep in his heart. You nodded slowly, your fingers moving across his jaw, brushing lightly against the stubble that you loved so much. The texture beneath your fingertips grounded you in the moment, in the depth of your shared history.

"Always," you whispered, your voice quiet yet resolute, filled with all the love and assurance you could offer. The word hung between you, a promise as enduring as the years you'd spent together, filled with passion, struggle, and unwavering devotion.

A look of pure relief washed over his face, and his lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that melted something deep inside of you. His dark eyes softened, the intensity in them easing as the tension that had been gripping his body finally released. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his nose brushing against yours in a gentle, playful gesture that was so quintessentially him.

Then, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was achingly tender. It wasn't a kiss of passion or heat but one of love—deep, abiding love that spoke of shared memories, of moments when words weren't enough, of the bond that had grown stronger through every trial. His lips moved against yours slowly, reverently, sealing the love you both carried for one another, a love that had withstood time and trials, unshaken.

When he pulled back, the soft smile remained on his face, but his eyes held a spark of playful curiosity. "Good," he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he nuzzled against you, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. "Because I didn't want to lose you. I don't think I could handle that."

You smiled at him, the affection you felt bubbling up inside you, and pressed your forehead against his. The closeness between you felt magnetic, an unbreakable bond drawing you together. The warmth of his skin, the scent of him, the sound of his breath—it was all so familiar, so comforting. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, beating in time with yours.

"You never will," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle promise that you both knew was true. Your fingers traced the shape of his lips before resting on his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your palm. "But, like I said, thank your mother. She was a big help in all this."

Michael let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rich and warm, and his smile grew. The tension that had been hanging between you seemed to melt away completely, replaced by a sense of peace and lightness. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing yours again in a playful, teasing gesture.

"Yeah, I guess I owe her one," he replied, his voice still low, but filled with affection and gratitude.

Before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you again, this time with a kiss that was deeper, more intentional. His lips moved against yours with a gentle firmness, conveying everything that words couldn't—the gratitude, the devotion, the love that had claimed you both so completely over the years. There was something timeless about the way he kissed you, like each kiss was a reaffirmation of what you had, of what you would continue to build together.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. The love that tethered you both was palpable, an invisible thread woven through years of memories, trials, and triumphs. And in that moment, in the quiet darkness, you both knew that it was a love that would last—still strong, still meant to be.

[emsdevs]

No Matter the Distance

Noah and Mateo AU

a/n: This idea randomly came to me, and I had to get it out. I'm sorry in advance for any pain this may cause to any lovers of the twins. The next part will be happier! Also, I will be putting out the timeline soon (masterlist form), but for reference, this takes place when the boys are about three and a half.

masterlist | noah and mateo au masterlist

The boys had been extra quiet since Nico left with the team for a roadie this morning. Usually, they would have worked past the initial sadness by now, but their voices hadn’t gotten any louder like they usually would be. You decide to cut up some fruit with their sandwiches for lunch, knowing that seeing the mix of strawberries, blueberries, and bananas on their plates always gets them a little extra excited. When you finish, you call them into the kitchen and then watch as they pull themselves up onto the chairs that are still just a little too tall for them. 

“Tank you, Mama,” Mateo tells you in a tone that usually only Noah would use when he’s feeling extra shy. Your worry increases after hearing his words and seeing the disheartened look on Noah’s face.

“Baby, is there something on your mind?” you question Mateo, the worry evident on your face.

“‘M fine, Mama,” he uses that same tone again, and even though you know he’s holding back, you decide not to push either of the boys on the subject. They eat their lunches quietly after that, not making much noise. When they finish, they whisper to you that they enjoyed their food before returning to their playroom, still rather silent.

You spend the rest of the cleaning and periodically checking on Noah and Mateo, trying to find an outlet to get the worry out. Soon, Nico called to check in, and though you didn’t want to worry him while he was away, you told him about the boys’ weird behavior.

“Ängeli, I’m sure they’re fine. Maybe they just aren’t feeling well right now. You know Curtis’s kids got sick just a couple of days after they had that playdate with the boys,” Nico was quick to reassure you.

“You’re right, Neeks. I’m probably just overthinking. I just worry about them sometimes.”

“It’s fine, baby. Now, tell me about you. I wanna hear how my wife is doing.” You giggle before telling Nico about your day, the worry already gone from your mind. You talked to your husband for a while longer until you had to hang up to put the boys to bed. You helped them with their baths, helped them into their favorite jammies, and finally got them into their respective beds. You were sitting on the edge of Noah’s bed, getting ready to kiss his forehead and go tell Mateo goodnight in the same manner, when he asked a question that made your heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Mama? Does Papa still wuv us?” his voice is tiny, and it breaks you a little more. Mateo crawls into bed with his brother, clearly having the same thought.

“Of course he does, baby. Why would your Papa not love the two of you?” you’re fighting to hold back tears.

“He weaves us a wot,” Mateo shrugs his little shoulders, and he’s using that small, shy voice again.

“Oh, my sweet boys. Your Papa loves you both so so so much! It hurts him so much when he has to leave you both. You’re the lights of his life, both of us would be lost without you two, I promise. Please, don’t ever doubt that your Papa loves you. Or me, for that matter. We love you two more than either of you could ever imagine,” you’re crying at this point, but you don’t really care.

“You wuv us bigger than Juper?” Mateo was in a space phase, and just a few days ago learned that Jupiter was the biggest planet. Apparently, that was the biggest thing his little brain could think of.

“Yes, baby. Wayyyy bigger than Jupiter!” you drag out the word, reaching forward to tickle Mateo’s side. “And wayyyy bigger than a brachiosaurus!” you dragged out the word for Noah now, who was in a dinosaur phase, and began to tickle him as well.

“Otay, Mama!! No mo’ tickles!” it warmed your heart to hear Noah raise his voice a little.

“Yeah, Mama! No mo’ tickles!” Mateo was giggling too, finally using his normal tone of voice. Soon, they settled down for the night, so you went to get yourself ready for bed. As you did your night time routine, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you’d tell Nico. It would crush him to hear that the boys were worried he didn’t love them anymore. You both knew they wouldn’t handle his absence well, but neither of you thought it would ever get this bad. You decide against calling him tonight, deciding it would be best to tell him when he gets home tomorrow night, even though it will be pretty late. You go to sleep that night with tears streaming down your face.

You spend the next day trying to distract the boys from Nico’s absence. You take them to the park, take them to watch a movie, and even take them out for ice cream afterward. Is it great parenting? No probably not, but you can’t let them be sad anymore. You’re doing what you can to keep them in good spirits until Nico gets home. Eventually, you get the twins in bed, which goes much smoother than last night. You make yourself comfortable on the couch with a book, knowing you won’t be able to sleep until Nico arrives. It’s a little after 1:00 AM when he walks through the door, and you immediately stand up to hug him, trying to savor his happiness from coming home after a win while you can. After sharing a few kisses and talking about how you hate being apart, you know you have to tell Nico then, not wanting to hide it longer than you already have.

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t freak out right now okay?” you gently pull him toward the couch. You could see the nerves on his face, and the thought of telling him made you queasy.

“Ängeli, it can’t be that bad,” he lets out a nervous chuckle, knowing the last time he saw you this nervous was when you told him you were pregnant. 

“So the boys… they um they missed you a lot while you were gone, but it was a little um a little more than usual,” you were stalling and you knew it. 

“Okay… that’s not too bad? Did they say something I should be worried about? Did they act out? They’re usually on their best behavior for you?”

“They did say something,” you took a breath, knowing how much this would hurt your husband, “Nico, they asked me if you still loved them because you’re gone a lot.” The tears were flowing now, but you had no plans of trying to stop them, especially after seeing the tears about to fall from Nico’s eyes.

“They think I don’t love them?”

“No! At least, not anymore,” you cringe at your words. “I talked to them last night and told them we both love them very very much, and they seemed better today.”

“Oh my god. My sons think I hate them.”

“Nico, baby, they don’t think that. They’re just little. They couldn’t wrap their heads around why you have to leave so often. I explained that you don’t have a choice and hate it as much as them, if not more, and they understood a little bit better. It’ll just take some time for them to get used to it again now that they’re older and can think for themselves.”

“How do I even begin to make it up to them? I’m leaving again in a week and a half,” he lets out a sadistic chuckle.

“Nico, they still love you. You know that, right? You’re their favorite person. They could never be mad at you for long.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t just mad, Ängeli. They think I don’t love them.”

“How about you go and get ready for bed, and then we can grab the boys and let them sleep with us tonight? Would that help?” Your grasping at straws trying to keep Nico from feeling so guilty.

“Okay,” his voice is almost as small as Mateo’s was the day before. You finally move from the couch, moving to your bedroom so Nico can do his night time routine. The second he finishes, he’s giving you a look and heading straight for the boys’ room. The two of you don’t even attempt to wake them up, just lifting them from their beds and carrying them to yours. That’s the first night the boys slept in your bed since they turned three. 

Nico took the next day off, skipping practice even though you told him it wouldn’t hurt the boys. He spent the entire day bonding with the boys, making sure they knew he’d never stop loving them. They played games for hours in their playroom until you had to call them down for lunch. After some chicken nuggets, which the boys were very grateful for, they were off to to the backyard, running Nico to the bone. Honestly, this was probably more of a workout for him than practice would be. That night you could hear him reassuring the boys as he put them to bed, “Your Papa will always love you two. No matter how far apart we are or how many time I have to leave, my main goal is to always come home to you two. You’re my priority and my favorite part of my day. Papa loves you both so so much.” When he leaves their bedroom, you act like you didn’t hear anything and pretend not to notice the tear stains on his face. 

The love fests and spoiling didn’t stop that day, though. While he was going to practice and games, he made sure every second he had free was spent with his boys. He even let them go watch practice one day and run around Prudential Center. They were ecstatic to watch him play again, and you knew that every doubt had left their mind by now. Unfortunately, you could tell it would take Nico a while to completely get over it, but just like everything else, you two would tackle that together.

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @puckmedude

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[lostalioth]

❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜

Marc spector x female reader💛

Marc feeling that the reader has left his bed so he leaves his room to find her on the sofa having an anxiety atack.

A bit angsty but mostly fluffy💗💗

now this is my first writing for marc but i loved this so much and I accidentally made it more fluffy than angsty

𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 – 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘳

→ warnings: nicknames [babe, baby, sweet girl], description of shooting and dead body, panic/anxiety attack, angst, mostly fluff.

Before you can think of a plan to get away or even register the sound and what has happened Harrow pulls the trigger and shoots Marc right in the heart. You feel your world and your heart shatter into a million pieces all at the same time as you watch his body hit the water. blood gushes through his shirt around the wound and you need to cover your mouth fast to stop yourself from screaming. Tears quick to brim your eyes threatening to fall as you watch in horror as Harrow's men pull your boyfriend's body from the water, you wanted to scream, run at them, even if it meant simply dying alongside your boy.

Once his body was on flat ground his men stepped back letting Arthur set something small and shiny on his chest. He’s quick to leave Ammits tomb with the goddess in hand who was encased in a tiny stone statue, you turn the corner from your hiding spot the minute they leave and run right to Marc.

“Marc! Steven! Please my love, either of you please..” your voice gets caught in your throat and you choke on it. Tears began to softly stream down your face as you kissed his forehead and placed your hand over the scarab on his chest. Your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, fighting to hold back the gut reaching scream that’s bubbling in your throat.

You’re jolted awake in a sweating, out of breath haze. Your heart feels like it's gonna jump out of your chest with how fast and hard it's beating. Your chest heaving hard, you felt like you couldn’t breathe properly no matter how hard you tried. head spinning, your eyes filling with hot tears, clouding your vision. It felt so real, you couldn’t even tell if you were still dreaming or not. You didn't know what was real, you couldn’t stop relaying the moment the shot rang through your ears and you watched the love of your life’s body hit the water. That sight is burned into your memory, every single detail of it.

Being so wrapped up in your spiraling thoughts you are startled at Marc placing a hand on your shoulder. He had been woken up by the jarring shift of your body besides him. His hair was all disheveled and fluffed up, his eyes half lidded, you’d make a comment of how cute he looked if only you could speak and weren’t in the middle of a panic attack.

“Babe…what’s wrong?” Once he woke up a bit more he took in your appearance, you were hunched over the edge of your shared bed, a hand on your chest, eyes brimming with even more tears and labored and inconsistent breathing. He pushes his way up out of bed to come sit beside you on the edge of the bed, it sinks down as he slowly sits down, he’s never seen you this way, it's slightly scaring him as well as steven.

“Hey..hey baby what happened..?” He is slow and careful as he reaches his hand to place on your knee in an attempt to calm you. The last he wanted was to startle you again. “Night-nightmare…of that night in the-the tomb…” your voice was so hushed and shaky Marc almost couldn’t understand you but the moment your wobbly words sank in, his heart sank to his stomach with them. More tears stream down your cheeks as you watch fear flash on his face, as if his sequence of events of that night just replayed in his own head.

“Thought i lost you all over again…” your words came out a little less shaky this time and yet your words break Marc’s heart all the same. “Oh..sweet girl…” he sighs and he softly wipes away your tears as they fall. You lean into his touch, your heart aching like you haven’t seen him in years, you needed to touch him, needed to know he was real. As he’s wiping your tears away you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. “Need to know you're really there….” You mumbled into the kiss and through your tears, your eyes squeezed so tightly shut like you wanna never open them up again as if he’d simply disappear the moment you do.

He grunts and shuts his eyes, kissing you back deeply and softly. A kiss so full of love, devotion and tenderness, a kiss that restores the breath in your lungs. Marc softly pulls you in close by the waist and lays the both of you down, the both of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You both pull away slowly, limbs intertwined and panic subsided. “Dont worry im staying right here baby…” he whispers softly as he presses a small reassuring kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m right here my sweet girl, nobody’s taking me away from you, not even over my dead body” he smiled sweetly and rubs his thumb over your stomach and hip.

You hit him lightly for his poorly timed joke and rub circles on the back of his neck. You’ll always forever be thankful for whatever in the hell happened that allowed marc to come back to you, and steven. You needed them both more than they knew.

“I love you” you whisper softly as you and marc drift off to sleep, body’s wrapped around one another, like your souls, forever intertwined.

→ a/n: so i fully intended on posting this a while ago but never did anyway, i kinda forgot a bit of the request like she was supposed to leave the bed but im still a bit rusty after a long ass hiatus again and i barely proof read this cause i wanted to post today!! I love Layla but for this to work reader pretty much sorta is Layla/replaces her but you and marc aren’t married lol

[webslingingslasher]

tw: depression

hey! i was wondering, how would peter react or take care of reader with depression? can be either nerdy or frat peter or any peter rly :)

sorry i am very much kinda really going thru it rn 😞

felt that. depression is fucking brutal, anon. i'm here for you and i hope you're taking care of yourself for now.

--

you don't move when your window opens. you haven't moved for hours, you couldn't draw up enough energy to turn or eat, or breathe. the wall in front of you hasn't changed, it's been a blank slate of emptiness. just like the pit inside you.

'i know you're not sleeping.' it's teasing, your heart doesn't have it in you to perk up. you don't feel excited peter showed up, nothing could top the numbness that's burrowed its way into your chest and mind.

'you haven't texted me back all day, i was about to send a smoke signal.' your bones feel sharp, the idea of rolling over to face him stings, you think you'll shatter into a million pieces. you have nothing left to give, even talking seems exhausting.

'baby?' peter knows somethings wrong, he thinks he knows what's wrong. you had a good stretch, it had been months before the depression caught up and sent you bedrotting.

peter can't imagine how it feels for you, but for him, watching you go through this, kills him inside.

your mattress sinks, you close your eyes when peter reaches out for you, his hand on your skin is the most warmth you felt all day. it's peter; your rock, your safety net, your protector.

you think it's the first time you've talked all day. you had a permanent lump in your throat and you knew just by opening your mouth the tears would start.

but it's okay, because peter is here.

'i'm really sad today.' it's all it takes, your shoulders shake with your sobs, how could you feel everything and nothing all at once? peter's soft whispers have you curling into yourself. you don't deserve him, he doesn't deserve this.

'oh, honey.' it's full of love, his nose brushes your shoulder like a puppy asking to be pet. 'wanna give me a hug?' your voice wavers on your answer, it's raw and scratchy, begging to be hydrated, you don't think you've even had water today.

'yes, please.' your cheeks feel sticky but peter's holding you tightly, yet softly, it's like he's trying to hold you together. it's working. 'i'm sorry.' you feel bad. you should be more for him.

'don't be. i want to be here for you, and when you can only give twenty percent, i've got the other eighty. i love you. always and forever. no matter what.'

he needs to add the end, he needs to because he knows how it weighs down in your mind. how you've told him over and over it's unfair he has to put up with this and how he doesn't deserve what you bring to the table.

peter told you he's got a big fucking table and it's got more than enough room for your "mess." you don't say the silent part out loud anymore but he knows you still think it. peter would never admit it to you, but sometimes he really hates your brain and the way it thinks about yourself when your depression sets in.

it's selfish, you hate it about yourself but you need a reason to keep going.

'can you tell me how sad you would be if i died?' to anyone else it would sound morbid, to peter it means you're feeling better. peter slightly rocks you in his lap, he hums like he needs to think.

'you think you're depressed? just you wait, i'll make this look estatic.' a smile teases, he's determined to get you laughing. 'i mean it. i'd be on my knees, tears and snot all over my face, holding your hand at your funeral. i'd probably throw myself down the hole with you.'

it works, it's minuscule but you gave him a real smile and a tiny laugh. it's because you're picturing the teary-snotted face he'd be sporting and he's totally okay with that.

peter presses kisses over your hairline, he's speaking from the heart and you can feel it.

'because if you're not living, i wouldn't have a reason to either.' 

[sapphire-writes]

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: The night of the hockey formal. Chaos ensures of course, because nothing's that easy with this group!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ series general language & mature themes (p in v, fingering, kissing, praise, unprotected, slight hair pulling).

note: hope you enjoy my loves 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 5: Formal ~ next chapter

“How’s the studying going?” Helaena asks, looking up from her book.

You’ve been sitting with her in the student lounge for about an hour now, staring at your phone. Aegon’s text messages have been on your mind for a while now. Not that he’s been responding. He’s been MIA since the neon party.

“Y/N,” Helaena says as you continue to stare, brows furrowed together. 

Helaena closes her book loudly, but still, you fail to look up. Where is he?

“Y/N!” Helaena says, louder this time. 

You blink rapidly, locking your phone and smiling apologetically. 

“Sorry, what Hel?” you ask.

“How’s studying? With Egg?” Helaena asks. 

The feeling of his lips on your returns, the feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth. The cool metal of his tongue ring. His lips. Fuck, his lips. An ache grows between your legs, and your mind flashes to the memory of riding his thigh. 

“Studying’s going great,” you manage to say, forcing a smile on your face.

You send Aegon another text. 

“Are you excited for formal?” Helaena asks, eyes flickering from your face to your phone, “Who’s got you so grumpy?” 

“What?” you say looking up, “No one, shit, just Sara. Um-” you rub a hand over your face, “Yeah, yeah formal should be fun!”

“Egg looks forward to it every year,” Helaena muses, “I hear he’s taking Lydia Tyrell.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try to ignore the hot flash of jealousy that rolls through you. Helaena’s brother. Off-limits. 

“That’s nice,” you tell her, “They make a cute pair.”

“Yeah,” Helaena says snorting, “For however long Egg holds onto her.”

You frown.

“What do you mean?”

Helaena closes her book, folding her hands on top of one another.

“Aegon is a manwhore,” she tells you, “He chooses a pretty, desperate girl, lavishes her with attention, and then throws her to the curb when he’s done.”

Your throat tightens at her words. 

“He chews them up and spits them out,” Helaena continues, “My brother’s not the nicest guy to fool around with. Not that any of my friends have to worry about that. I’d kill him.”

Shit. 

You force a smile.

“You would?” you ask nervously, and Helaena nods.

“Did I ever tell you about Cassandra? My best friend in high school?”

You shake your head and Helaena sighs.

“Aegon broke her heart. Shattered it into a million tiny pieces. She never spoke to me again,” Helaena tells you. 

Your heart nearly stops beating at her words. 

“My best friend,” Helaena says, enunciating the words, “Aegon doesn’t think about anyone but himself. Love him, but he’s got issues.”

Nervousness swirls in your stomach. Helaena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing and shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry that happened, Hel,” you tell her. 

“Me too,” Helaena says, placing her cheek in her hand and reading her textbook.

It’s settled. You need to pursue this thing with Cregan. Aegon is off-limits. 

Later in the day, you and Sara get ready together doing your makeup in front of your floor-length mirror. Sara chose a skin-tight red dress that looks amazing on her. 

Your dress is in deep forest green, hugging your curves perfectly. Sara’s eyes bug out of her head when you exit your room.

“Cregan’s going to cream his pants,” she says, wolf-whistling at you.

“I sure hope so,” you say, snickering slightly. 

You look your arm through hers, grab your purse, and exit the apartment. You’re supposed to meet at the hockey house, Sara offers to drive blasting your favorite songs all the while. When you park, you feel your skin prickle with nervousness, all the hairs on your arms standing at attention. 

Some guys stand outside, dressed in suits, sharing drinks. You spot Jace and Cregan standing on the front steps as you exit Sara’s car. She calls out to Jace, waving at the pair. You notice Aegon talking with some teammates, not acknowledging your arrival. 

“We got a limo together, to take us all,” Jace tells you, kissing Sara’s cheek. 

Cregan eyes light up as you appear, scanning you up and down. A wolfish grin appears on his face and he wets his lips. 

“You look great,” he tells you.

“So do you,” you say smiling. 

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Aegon says, arm slung over Lydia’s delicate shoulders.

He’s wearing an all-black suit, his silver hair slicked back. He gives you a sideways grin before looking away quickly. 

You all pile into the limo together, knees bumping against each other in the crowded space as music blasts from the speakers. Neon lights flash and a disco ball reflect the light in all directions.

Though Cregan and you make conversation you can’t help but watch Aegon and Lydia, who sits perched on his lap, with a ring-clad hand tightly gripping her upper thigh. His fingers play with the edge of her dress, slightly disappearing underneath it. 

Your eyes flicker to his face and you meet his violet eyes. He’s looking back at you. Flustered at being caught staring, you quickly lower your gaze, cheeks burning. 

The ride is pretty quick, and you don’t look at Aegon again. 

You all start to exit the limo, walking in pairs into the hotel. It’s fancy as hell, with a huge spiral staircase and grand chandelier sparkling in the foyer. Aegon has already disappeared inside, you catch a glimpse of Lydia’s auburn hair, Aegon’s hand pressed against her lower back. 

Cregan takes your arm, beginning to lead you up the stairs when your stomach drops.

“Shit,” you mumble, slapping your side.

“What’s up?” Sara says stopping, arm linked through Jace’s.

“I left my purse in the limo,” you tell them, smiling at Cregan apologetically.

“I can get it for you,” he says smiling.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll be just a second, you guys head upstairs without me.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, squeezing your hand.

You nod, and they continue up the stairs without you.  

You walk back down the steps, goosebumps appearing the longer you’re in the cold air. You find the limo pretty quickly in the parking lot, the driver standing across the lot smoking a cigarette.

“Excuse me,” you tell her, “I left my purse inside.”

“No problem,” she says clicking the unlock, “go right ahead sweetheart.”

You give her a kind smile and continue walking to the limo. The door opens are you poke your head inside. The lights are still going, but no music plays now. It’s sort of spooky just multicolored lights flashing over the leather seats. 

You duck, but it's still incredibly spacious as you slide down the seat to where you had been seated with Cregan in the back. With no one else in the limo, it’s very roomy. Your purse lays squished between the cushions and you sling it on your arm when the door shuts behind you. 

Your head whips around, panic slicing through you until you see who it is. Aegon slouches against the seat, manspreading his legs as he leans his head back on the headrest of the seat. He watches you as he taps his fingers on the door. 

He’s wearing rings again.

Stop that. Bad girl. Go back to Cregan.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, not moving.

“What are you doing?” he playfully mimics, raising a brow and smiling widely.

You hold up your purse.

“Sure you’re not avoiding Stark?” he asks, wetting his lips.

You let out a sharp breath, laughing slightly.

“And why would I be doing that?”

“You tell me.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t have time for this Aegon, Cregan’s waiting for me.”

You start to scoot down the seat toward him. There’s no way out without passing over him. 

“Mhmm,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. He leaves his palm on top of his eyes. 

You stop scooting as you reach the corner next to him. 

“Are you avoiding someone?” you ask referring to his date. 

Aegon splays his fingers on his face, peering at you between the cracks of his fingers. 

“Maybe,” he says, lower lip jutting out into a pout.

You chuckle.

“Lydia Tyrell not doing it for you?” you ask, hoping the bitterness you feel isn’t evident in your tone.

“She’s nice enough,” he murmurs.

A moment of silence happens between you, the tension is palpable in the small space.

“She’s probably missing you about now,” you tell him.

“Told her I needed a smoke.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.”

You laugh despite feeling bad for the abandoned Lydia. Aegon watches you laugh, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“You could have come alone,” you tell him, but he snorts.

Silence again. You feel the need to keep talking.

“How’s your studying?”

“You’re seriously asking me about studying right now?” he asks, hand falling from his face to his thigh.

“Should I be asking about something else?”

“You tell me, bunny.”

You stare him down for a moment, those violet eyes looking into your soul. Don’t be a pussy, you hear Sara’s voice in your head.

“Why did you kiss me?”

He smirks then, as though he was hoping you’d be brave enough to ask.

“To help you with Stark.”

“No,” you clarify, “At the neon party. You didn’t need to, but you did it anyway.”

Aegon continues to stare. 

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”

Your face flushes. He’s wearing that damn earring again. Two of them. Both hoops, the one lower on his lobe holding some animal’s tooth. The multicolored lights dance across his features and it suddenly feels warm, too warm, like you’ll suffocate.

“Cregan is waiting for me,” you tell him, moving to leave.

Aegon takes this as defeat, nodding as you begin your exit. There’s no way to get past him, not without going over him. He leans up as you move one leg over him, basically straddling him. His hand glides over your leg and you freeze, hand gripping the headrest to help your balance. Your hair is brushing against his face, and you meet his eyes. He’s right in front of you, close enough to kiss. 

Your other hand is on the handle of the door.

His eyes flicker to your lips, just once, and your thighs give, crashing you into his lap. You gasp, feeling the hardness present between his legs, before he swallows the sound with his lips against yours. 

Your hand drops from the door tangling in hair as his hands slide under your ass. One hand snakes up your back, gripping the back of your neck keeping your mouth securely against his.

He tastes the same way he did the other night, he feels like he did that night. His lips are forbidden fruit, and you’re starving. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, squeezing at your breasts, your ass, your thighs, just constant pressure. His teeth sink into your lower lip and you moan into his mouth. 

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing you closer to him. 

His hands drop only so he can reach for his belt. You watch him unbuckle it. 

“We don’t have time,” you tell him, as he recaptures your lips.

“Sure we do,” he insists.

You whimper against him, dropping your hands to assist his efforts. Once his cock is freed, you wrap your hand around him and pump his length. Aegon groans as you do so before pushing your dress up around your waist. You’re all uncoordinated, limbs flailing all over the place, and you’re not sure how but Aegon manages to wrestle you out of your panties while you’re still on his lap. 

He swipes a finger through your slick folds, grinning as you spasm against him.

“Just fuck me,” you tell him, desperate to be quick.

Aegon playfully frowns.

“We’re not being that quick,” he says, sinking two fingers into your tight heat, “what, do you think I’m not a gentleman? Huh?”

The strangled noise that leaves you only fuels the fire of Aegon’s pride. You can feel the metal of his rings pressing into you, eliciting more erotic noises as he crooks his fingers in you just right. 

“You think after all this, I’m not gonna make you come?” Aegon teases.

“Fuuck,” you whine, grinding your hips against his fingers.

“Yeah, fuuck,” Aegon agrees, mimicking you; biting his lip, and nodding his head. 

He’s such an arrogant asshole. 

Your palm slams against the window as his thumb presses against your clit rubbing even little circles around the slick bundle of nerves. Thank the fucking gods the windows are tinted. Aegon chuckles at the state of you as he works his fingers in your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck, this pussy is gonna feel so good on my cock,” he murmurs.

“Aegon, oh fuck,” you squeak, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Soak my fingers, that’s it,” he encourages, unrelenting with his movements, “keep saying my name baby.” 

Your orgasm washes over you, sending you slumping against him as he moves to replace his fingers with his cock. 

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, feeling the fat head of his cock spreading your lips.

He kisses your neck, nipping lightly.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“All yours,” he tells you, and you lift your lips before sinking onto him. 

It takes no time at all to figure out Aegon likes to be vocal, not that you expected anything else. It’s all dirty praises wrapped between grunting, gasps, and moans as you ride him. The sounds of wet slapping echo throughout the limo, the smell of sex evident in the confined space. 

“Perfect fucking pussy,” Aegon murmurs, hands resting on your ass. 

Your dress is scrunched at your middle, tits out. His head is buried between them, voice muffled as he worships them with his mouth. He alternates licking the full mounds before taking your nipple in his mouth grazing it with his teeth and sucking, sending sparks of pleasure tricking down towards your navel. His mouth never leaves you, not even to come up for air, he simply traces his lips over your tits, through the valley between them to make sure he’s giving equal attention to each one.

The sensations are almost too much for you to handle, your thighs tremble, and sharp whimpers and whines leave your bruised lips. Your pussy clenches around him, feeling every vein, every curve of his thick length.

All you can do is moan, head thrown back as you bounce on his fat cock. He fills you so fucking perfectly, better than Jason, better than anyone. 

“Oh gods,” you moan, “Oh fuck.”

The tip of his cock is curved so perfectly, nudging against that sweet spongy spot that makes your breath leave you with each roll of your hips. 

“That’s it, come all over my cock,” Aegon says, “That’s my girl.”

You’re sent over the edge once more and feel his warm release soon after, as he spills inside of you with a breathy, whimpered, moan. Aegon captures your lips once more in a searing kiss, hands tangling in your hair. 

You breathe into each other for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. 

Oh fuck.

Aegon blinks rapidly and you shy away from his gaze. 

You reach for your panties but he stops your hand.

“I think I’ll keep those,” he says smiling, stuffing the lace into his pockets.

Your eyes are wide as he kisses you once more. When he pulls away he keeps his hands tightly on your jaw, just enough so you can’t look away from him.

“Now you go in there, dance with Cregan, and have a fucking ball with my cum dripping down your legs,” he purrs. 

Your lips are parted in shock, eyes wide and dumb.

“You hear me?”  

“Uh huh,” you answer. 

Aegon drags his thumb over the shape of your lips. 

“We got to go,” he tells you, as you rise from his softening cock.

You fix the straps of your dress and pull it down to cover your ass as he opens the door. Aegon exits first and holds a hand out to help you out. You take it, rising on shaky legs. 

“Let’s go,” he says grinning. 

He holds your hand until you enter the hotel, following him up the stairs and into the ballroom. He turns, winking at you, before strutting across the room to Lydia. 

Sara comes barreling over to you.

“Got your purse?” she says, her smile faltering as she sees your expression. 

“Bathroom, NOW,” you tell her, grabbing her hand. 

She follows your lead and you hurry to the restroom. 

“What is it?” Sara asks.

You can feel him running down your thighs. Sara raises an eyebrow.

“Sara,” you tell her, “Don’t freak out.”

She freaks out.

“You fucked him? Just now?” she hisses, eyes falling to your chest, “Oh shit, Y/N your chest-”

You rush to the mirror. Dark red blotches are forming from Aegon’s attention. You pull the collar of your dress up.

“Here,” Sara says, digging into your purse, “I put our concealers in here.”

“What the fuck do I do?” you ask as she uses her fingers to apply the makeup, “Shit, Helaena’s going to kill me, Cregan is going to kill me.”

“Do you like him?” Sara asks, “Aegon?”

“Um,” your head is spinning, “I mean. Yeah. But it's Aegon! Helaena literally was just telling me how horrible he is to girls.”

“Girl yikes,” Sara says shaking her head, “I mean, you’ve seen his track record.”

“Fuck,” you tell her, “So I should just forget this right? I mean it's probably a one-time thing, he probably doesn’t even like me-”

“You cannot tutor him anymore, he’s just going to keep fucking you,” Sara tells you, “Tell him to find someone else.”

Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal, if you’re being honest. 

“But-”

“No,” she tells you firmly, “We are not having another Jason Lannister moment. Date Cregan. Fuck Cregan. A nice guy.”

You look at her wide-eyed. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells you.

“It was really good.”

“Did you come?”

“Yeah,” you tell her nodding and biting your lip. 

“Fucking Aegon Targaryen,” she says shaking her head, “Okay, you’re good, let's get back out there.”

You go to the bathroom, wiping the remnants of Aegon’s release from your thighs with shaking hands. Sara’s right. 

You make your way to Cregan, he takes your hand spinning you around. You smile. He’s so nice, such a good guy. Jace and Sara dance next to you as a slow song begins to play. You loop your hands around Cregan’s neck, glancing behind him. 

Aegon’s leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets. He removes his left hand, slightly revealing the dark green lace of your panties before shoving them back in. Your eyes widen and he winks.

You have a feeling Aegon Targaryen is nowhere near done with you.

note: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 😘

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[simplyholl]

Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: Your ex boyfriend, Loki hits you up one late night to hook up. It’s a bad idea, right?

Based on the song “Bad Idea Right?” By Olivia Rodrigo

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18 + ONLY. Mentions of marijuana use.

W/C: 1.1K

See my Masterlist Here

“Tell me you’re not texting Loki right now.” Your best friend, Hannah rolls her eyes at you. “I just see him as a friend.” You inform her. It’s the biggest lie you could’ve told.

Loki was your most recent ex boyfriend. He was a cocky, narcissistic asshole. But that didn’t stop your heart from being shattered into a million tiny pieces when he broke up with you.

You spent countless hours crying to Hannah about him. You had only dated for a few months. But there was something about him that you were drawn to, that felt right.

The worst part was that he had someone to replace you the very next day. You found out when you ran into them at your favorite restaurant. You were angry with yourself because you introduced Loki to it in the first place.

Hannah took you out to cheer you up. To your surprise, Loki was there with a woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Playboy. As soon as you saw them, you had to swallow the lump in your throat and fight back the tears threatening to fall. Hannah sent you to the car while she called the server over to bring your check.

Months had passed. You’ve spent more time apart than you did with him. You were mostly over him. You had hooked up with other guys since then. They all paled in comparison to Loki though. You knew if given the chance, you would go back to him.

Here it was late on a Saturday night. Loki was texting you out of the blue. Maybe it was the joint you smoked, but you thought he was flirting with you. You ignored his text, leaving him on read. Your phone starts vibrating in your lap, the stupid picture you had set for his contact of the two of you illuminating the screen.

You knew you should have blocked him. You excuse yourself, locking yourself in the bathroom to answer his call. “Loki, why are you calling me?” “It’s nice to hear from you too, darling.” You can practically hear the smirk he was wearing over the phone.

You shouldn’t have answered. He could talk you into anything. It wasn’t your fault. He was so charming. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you lie to Hannah, telling her you’re going home to sleep. You get in the car waiting for him to send you his new address.

When you arrive at the apartment building, you text him letting him know you’re there. He tells you to meet him on the second floor. Smug asshole, couldn’t even meet you outside. You walk down the long hallway when you finally see him.

He’s standing in his doorway smiling at you with a cocky grin that lets you know that he knew you would come. When his blue eyes meet yours, you know it was inevitable. He would pull you right back in. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a more attractive man in your whole existence.

He moves aside to let you in. He says something as you enter, but you don’t hear it. It’s like you can’t hear your thoughts when you’re with him. As soon as his door clicks shut, he corners you like he’s a predator who has just captured his prey.

He places his arms beside your head. Long, dark curls hang loosely down his back leaving little water droplets behind. He must have just showered. “I’ve missed this.” He says before crashing his lips into yours. His tongue runs along your bottom lip begging for entrance, but you break the kiss. “Seeing you tonight was a bad idea in the first place, so spare me. You don’t need to lie about how you missed me. We both know why I’m here.”

Your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing in your pocket since you left Hannah’s. She knew you were lying to her. She probably knew where you were too. She was more than likely calling to talk you out of it. You curse Loki and his devil dick for making you lie to your best friend.

Your clothes had been discarded in a trail leading to Loki’s bed. He sheds his shirt, laying back against the mattress. You climb on top of him. His lips press against yours once more. You run your hands through his hair, pressing your bare chest to his. You missed this, him. You moan into his mouth. You pull him closer, needing friction. You rub yourself against his leg. Your arousal leaks down your thighs and gathers in a wet spot on his pants. Loki’s lips detach from yours.

“Sit on my face.” He commands you. He doesn’t have to repeat himself. You place your thighs against his smooth cheeks, hovering. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down firmly against him. His tongue sweeps across your folds. You hear a stifled moan as he laps up your arousal.

His hands grasp you tighter. He taps your thigh to get your attention. You lift yourself off him momentarily as he warns you, “Hold onto the headboard.” You do as you’re told. Loki plunges his tongue inside you while his nose works your clit. You grip the headboard until your hands start to cramp. His firm, velvet tongue envelops you, licking messily down your center. Your legs start to shake as the heat in your stomach rises.

He draws the most sensitive part of you between his lips. His moans vibrate against you. You chase your high, wantonly riding his face. You buck your hips faster as he tastes you. With each swipe of his tongue, the headboard hits the wall a little harder. He curls the talented muscle against your clit as he suckles it. The pressure is so delicious, it sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name when his neighbor beats on the wall. “Knock it off, Laufeyson! We already talked about you keeping your company quiet!” You lay down beside him, raising your eyebrow in question. His lips curl up into a smile, “He’s incredibly jealous.”

Loki gets off the bed, beckoning you with his finger to follow. He lifts you, placing your back against the wall. He doesn’t take his pants off. He pushes them down a little freeing himself. His hard cock plunged inside you suddenly, causing you to gasp. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist.

Loki’s hands rest on the firm skin of your cheeks. With each thrust, he makes sure to knock your body against the wall. “Tell me, pet. Have I ruined all other men for you? Do you think of me when you’re in their bed?” His large hand comes between you, rubbing circles on your clit. You claw at his back, placing your head on his shoulder. “No one compares to you, Loki.” You answer honestly.

When he strokes your sweet spot, you bite down on the porcelain skin on his neck. He brings you down on his cock faster, hitting the wall harder each time. His neighbor starts shouting and banging on the other side. “Let’s give him something to complain about.” Loki whispers in your ear. His agile finger works swiftly between your joined bodies. He hits impossibly deeper, driving his hips against yours.

Loki’s thrusts slow down as you reach your peak together. You cry out, shouting Loki’s name. You don’t do it to piss off the neighbor. You can’t help it. When you finish, you hear “Finally!” from the other side. Loki places your feet back on the ground. You follow the trail you left your clothes in, putting them back on as you come across them.

You take your phone out of your pants checking the time. You have eight missed calls and thirteen texts from Hannah. You quickly text her back letting her know you were safe. Loki walks toward his bathroom, pushing his hair behind his ears. “See you next weekend?” He asks. You just nod as you walk out the door.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lokischambermaid @muddyorbsblr

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hey so I just found your account and omg?? it's literally so amazing 😭✋

Anyways-I was just looking through a bunch of the twist monster au headcannons/stories, and I thought of a scenario that could be done!

Basically the cast reacting to gender neutral or female reader/yuu acting stuff out in their book they are reading like poses, dialogue, just genuine reactions to the text itself

ex. Throwing the book across the room and them being genuinely concerned that something happened bc reader is just staring off into space or cursing but what actually happened was either a character died/did something embarrassing/the mc and love interest finally kiss

Anyways that's all I had in mind hope you have a good day/night! <3

Omg thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the content! QvQ

Ah, books. Such a wonderful creation humans made to fill us with raw, pure emotion or shattering our hearts and souls into a million tiny pieces—only for us to read it again and again! Don’t you just love those moments as a reader? UvU

Except for cliffhangers. Readers have a love/hate relationship with it, writers adore cliffhangers! ÒvÓ

So, what happens if we take a bookreader!Yuu (they/them) and throw them into Twisted Monsterland where even the history books read like a world guide/omnibus to a game or TV series? Oh, and I took a bit of inspiration from a Disney princess comic and a Bill Watterson “Calvin and Hobbes” comic for two of these scenarios. 😂

/-----------/

“Jeez, you sure you’ve got enough books, Yuu?”

“The librarian wouldn’t let me check out more than ten at a time,” Yuu replied, their backpack and arms filled with thick books. “Wish I could’ve gotten ten more at least, but this’ll do for now.”

“Are you sure you can even read all those before next semester?” Deuce asked in concern. “Those look pretty…dense.”

“Oh, I’ll be done in a week. Maybe a week and a half if we get a lot of homework.”

“Funya?! You gotta be kidding me!” Grim said. “Can humans read that fast?”

“Not everyone. Some people are slow readers, but that’s okay since they enjoy it at their own pace while I enjoy it at mine. Only problem for me is choosing which one of these I want to read first!”

/Later that night/

“Yuu? It’s time to eat!” Grim called out. Silence greeted him as he stared at Yuu, who was sitting on the couch with their face practically buried in a book. Frowning, the chimera padded over to the couch and repeated, “Yuu! I’m hungry!”

Still the human didn’t seem to respond, their shoulders hunching as they turned the page.

“Yuu? Yuu!” Huffing, Grim crossed his arms as he glared up at them. “You’ve been reading for the past three hours! How much longer are you gonna read that book?”

“What’s going on, pal?” one of the ghosts asked as the trio appeared.

Gesturing his paws at Yuu, he said, “They’ve been reading ever since we got back from the library today, and now they’re not reactin’ to me. It’s dinner time and they haven’t made any food yet!”

Before anyone could even think of what to say, a loud, shrill squeal filled the dorm.

“Eeeeeee!!!” Yuu squealed, a huge grin on their face as they flopped to the side and kicked their legs like a nervous rabbit while holding the book against their chest. “Omg it happened, it happened!!”

“Mrah!? What?! What happened?!” Grim yelled, wings flared out defensively while his fur bristled. “Why are you yelling!”

“My new OTP!! They finally kissed!!” Yuu said, their eyes wide as they rocked from side to side. “They kissed!! Yes!! Yesyesyesyesyessssss!!!”

“OTP? What’s an OTP??” one of the other ghosts asked.

“It’s what we like to call the ‘one true pairing’ in a story,” Yuu explained, a positively giddy expression on their face with eyes shining brighter than the stars as they struck a dramatic pose. “It’s two characters who vibe with each other on a level that you just can’t help but want them to be together—and the author brought these two together!! Yeeeeeeeee, I’m so happy!!”

“And loud,” Grim grumbled, paws clamped over his ears. “Why are you standing like that?”

“It’s how the main character professed their love for the other!”

“…are all humans as weird as you?”

“Trust me, there are people out there that are way crazier in their excitement than I am right now.”

“Really?!”

“Oh yeah. Don’t even get me started on the fanfics people write.”

“Fan…fics?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child…”

/Two days later/

“Heeeey, lil’ Shrimpy~!”

“Mm…”

“Eh…? Hey, Shrimp…why are you ignorin’ us? It’s not very nice.”

“Now, now, Floyd. One mustn’t interrupt a reader when they’re indulging in such a riveting story.”

“Shh,” Yuu muttered, their brow furrowed as they hunched closer to the book. “I’m at the best part!”

Floyd frowned as he laid his head on his arms, the basilisk slumping against the table. “Man, this is lame,” he said. “You promised to come play basketball with me today!”

“Once I finish this part, we can go do whatever you want, okay, Floyd?”

Jade hummed in amusement as he said, “A rather daring proposition you just offered, Yuu.”

“We have to do a buncha reading for class anyway,” Floyd said with a bored expression. “And Crabby and Mackerel said you finished two other books already, so what’s the point of thi-”

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!?!?” Yuu shrieked, leaping out of their chair as Jade and Floyd recoiled in shock. Before the twins could react, Yuu had ducked back into their chair and pressed the book even closer to their face than before.

“…lemmie see that,” Floyd said, leaning over the table to grab it.

“No, no! It’s fine, go do something else!” Yuu said all too quickly, sinking even lower and turning away from Floyd’s reaching claws. “I think I heard Riddle in the hallway.”

“Lemmie see it!”

“No! You can’t read it!” Yuu cried out, bolting away from the table holding the book tight to their chest.

“Get back here, Shrimpy!”

“Noooo!!”

“Oh my,” Jade uttered, eyes wide for a moment before he chuckled. “Perhaps I should look into this book when they’ve finished it.”

/The next day/

“Oh no…oooh noooooo, I hate this so much!”

“Then why are you reading it?” Jamil asked, the naga curled around them. “If you don’t like it, just take it back to the library.”

“I can’t! It’s soooooo good!” Yuu said, practically throwing themselves backwards onto Jamil’s snake half with the book pressed against their face.

“Eh? But wait, you just said you hated it,” Kalim said in confusion.

“I hate it, but I love it so much,” Yuu told them with a whine, their head now touching the floor on the other side of Jamil’s snake body yet still draped over him like a cat. “This book will ruin your heart and shatter your soul into a million pieces!...you should read it too!”

“Given how dramatic you’re being, it might not be wise,” Jamil said with a sigh.

“Read it!”

“It’s okay, Yuu. We can read together! It’ll be more fun that way!”

“Kalim, no. You still need to study for the next potions exam.”

“Augh, I need someone to talk about this story with so we can lament in solidarity!”

“…have you been taking lessons from Rook lately?”

/Three days later/

“Um…is Yuu okay? They’re looking a little…tense.”

It had been several days since Yuu borrowed a stack of books, and already they had gone through nearly half of their hoard. Between classes and on breaks or after finishing tests, it wasn’t hard for students to notice the lone human with their nose between the pages of one book after the other. Even the researchers had taken note of Yuu’s behavior in between tests, making note of their expressions and how their body changes with each scene depicting their emotions. It was noteworthy how they reacted when a character in the story did something “cringeworthy and stupid” (as Yuu would explain when asked), it looked as though the human had swallowed a lemon.

At the moment they were sitting in Heartslabyul, yet another book in their arms as they sat on one side of the lounge. Cater had taken progression snapshots of Yuu’s body slowly curling into itself, eyes steadily growing wider and wider to the point it looked as though they’d bolt away in panic.

“They’re fine,” Grim told Trey as he munched on a snack. “They’ve been like this since they got all those books. That’s the pose they had last time when their Ohteevee smooched or somethin’.”

“Oh, you mean ‘OTP’, Grimmy,” Cater corrected with a smile. “That’s so cute! Our human has an OTP already~!”

“I’ve heard of hitting the books, but this is ridiculous,” Ace commented with a sigh. “They’ve been reading so long that I forgot what half their face looks li-”

“GRAAAAH!!!!”

SLAM! Fwump!!

“Gyah!?” the boys yelped, everyone staring at Yuu as they sat on the couch with a dark scowl.

“Yo, what the heck? Why’d you throw the book like that?” Ace asked, pointing at the large tome on the other side of the couch now.

“Um…Yuu?” Deuce began when they didn’t respond. “Are…you okay?”

“……I’m mad,” came the response, Yuu’s expression growing more annoyed as they stared off into space.

“About what?” Riddle asked in surprise.

Yuu’s gaze turned to the discarded book, their expression as though they had been betrayed by a trusted friend as they said, “Because my favorite character died, and I refuse to read how the book ends when there’s literally two freaking pages left! That’s not enough space to bring them back in a satisfying way!!”

“Y…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ace grumbled with a sigh. “That big of a reaction just because a fictional character was killed off?”

“You weren’t there to see the struggles they went through! I saw them change from an annoying bully into a fully developed and vulnerable character who wanted to take charge of their life—and the author killed them off!” Jumping to their feet, Yuu marched towards Ace and Deuce’s room where they’d left their stuff and said, “Where’s my notebook? I need to fix this!”

“What are you gonna do?” Grim called out.

“Write a fanfic, because my scrunkly deserves to be happy!”

“Huh? Scrunkly??”

/Final day/

“Oh, Great Seven…what happened in your book this time?” Vil asked with a sigh.

Yuu sniffled as they tried to dry their tears, though it was difficult as more continued to flow down their cheeks. “I…I just finished my last book,” they said, their voice cracking a little with emotion as Grim pat their arm reassuringly.

“All ten books in a week?” Vil said in surprise. “That’s…impressive. Even so, why are you so upset? Was the story that horrible?”

“No…it…it…it was too good!” Yuu cried out, clutching the book so tight that their knuckles turned white as the tears flowed freely now.

“Ah…such pure, raw human emotion,” Rook crooned. “To express it so freely without fear…beaute!”

“Was the book really that good?” Epel asked.

“Yes!” Yuu wailed. “Now that it’s over, I…I don’t know what to do with myself now…”

Peering at the title, Vil gave a thoughtful hum and said, “Oh, that story. I hear there is supposed to be a spin-off book series. The first one should have released just the other day.”

“Really?!”

“Mrrr…now you’ve done it,” Grim grumbled with a sigh. “Here we go again.”

[mutilatemyheart]

Summary: You haven't heard from Fixer since the almost kiss. Now's he's at your door asking to come in. Warnings: There's like one curse word. Pairing: Fixer x fem!reader Word Count: 1169

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The overhead light buzzes like an irritated insect in your tiny room. Your caf has long gone cold, and the grey walls aren’t doing much to improve your mood. You’re not sure which is worse: the constant annoying sound that seems to seep into your skin or the waiting. You know they’re back on Coruscant. Scorch had sent you a transmission that their campaign had been a success, and they would ‘be back on Triple Zero in two rotations.’ Of course, it had been Scorch to let you know. You haven’t heard from Fixer in weeks. Not since the almost kiss in the medbay. You two have been teetering on the edge of something more than friends, but now, you’re not sure where you stand with him. Had he decided that he didn’t want to be with you after all? Had Vau discouraged him from being with you? You wish he’d just tell you what happened.

You’re half-tempted to go search for him yourself. Even if it is just a quick glance at a distance, you’ll feel better putting your eyes on him. Just to make sure he’s okay, of course. It’s not like you have to speak to him or approach or –

Two sharp knocks on your door echo around you. Crossing the room on shaky legs, you stand by the control panel and wait to see if they knock again. The last time someone knocked on your door, it was Sev telling you that Fixer was injured. Is that why he hasn’t contacted you? 

They knock again, and you hit the buttons to open it. Peeling green paint on white Katarn armor greets you. Fixer’s helmet is tucked under his right arm, and he stares back at you with tired brown eyes. Damn your stupid heart for beating so loudly.

“May I come in?” he asks.

His voice is calm and steady, and if he’s nervous, he’s hiding it well. So, why is your stomach in knots? Why do you feel like his words have the ability to shatter you into a million pieces at his feet? Your heart is just another target waiting for him to eliminate.

You nod and step back to let him enter. He takes in the cramped quarters that the GAR has given you. He keeps his back to you as if looking at you again might be dangerous. You focus your eyes on the glowing blue “40” on his backpack and cross your arms.

“Is there something you need, Fixer?” You try to match his tone.

He releases a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. It almost seems like he’s readying himself to take on an opponent. He turns to face you and takes a step forward but changes his mind and retreats backward again.

“I know every GAR regulation. I know protocol for every situation on the battlefield. I could calibrate my Deece blinded if I had to.” He moves to place his helmet on the little table that had been given to you for a desk. He stares down into the t-visor as if it will tell him what to say to you. “I’m a good soldier, but I don’t know how to be anything else.”

You open your mouth to tell him that he’s so much more than a soldier, but he continues before you can speak.

 “There aren’t guidelines or textbooks for what to do when you’re in love with someone, and Sergeant Vau sure as hell didn’t teach us. I can’t prepare for this, and I don’t know what I’m doing and that scares me.”

In love with someone.

You try to bite back your smile as you close the gap between you. He balls his hands into fists against the table top.

“I think that may be the most you’ve ever said to me at one time,” you joke, trying to lighten his mood.

Fixer sighs and rolls his eyes.

“But if it makes you feel any better,” you continue. “No one ever really knows what they’re doing when it comes to love. We just do our best and hope that’s enough.”

“No, that doesn’t make me feel better,” he mutters.

“What do you want to do, Fixer?” You run your fingers gently along his jawline and give him what you hope is an encouraging smile. “Just say what you want. That’s all you have to do.”

He swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Having a choice in life wasn’t something a clone was used to, and this is something he has to decide for himself. There are no COs or Jedi telling him what to do. Had he discussed this with his brothers? Do the other Deltas know that he’s awkwardly standing in your room telling you that he’s in love with you? Had they encouraged him to tell you? They all know how you feel about their brother. It’s not a secret you kept well hidden.

“Any relationship we could have would end in tears,” Fixer says. He relaxes his hands and places them palm down on the table. “Probably yours. I wasn’t created for a long life even if I do survive the war. But… if the opportunity is still available to see where this catastrophe leads us, I’d like to see it through to the end.”

 You laugh, unsure of whether this is the best way you’ve ever been asked to be with someone or the worst. Does he truly think there is no chance for you two to have a happy ending? You hope not, but if he does, you’ll just have to make him believe otherwise. He deserves to be happy.

“The opportunity is still available. I can take the pain if this doesn’t end how we want it to. You’re worth it. Any time I’m given with you is worth it.”

He gives you a rare smile. “Uh, so, what is protocol in this situation?”

 You tilt your head and pretend to debate your answer. “Hmm. Well, you could kiss me,” you suggest.

“Yes, sir,” he breathes.

He leans toward you but stops just short of placing his lips to yours. His eyes search your face as if silently asking if this is really what you want. If he is really what you want. You grab the back of his neck and pull him in the rest of the way, your lips melding together in a clumsy kiss. His hands find your hips to ground himself. Or maybe he wants to be sure this is real. Please, you think to yourself, let this be real.

He breaks the kiss and places his forehead to yours.

“Scorch was right,” he whispers, his breath a ghost on your skin. “I should have done that a long time ago.”

“We have all night to make up for lost time,” you whisper back, afraid to break the bubble of peace that you two have found.

“And I don’t plan on wasting any of it.”

He pulls you in again.