#stained glass tumble

[aperfecthalosblog]

Colorful stained glass Bats 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler (Glow in dark option)

This listing is for one 20oz or 30oz skinny tumbler..

Glow in dark option.

Vacuum insulated tumbler with lid and straw.. Drinks stay ice cold or steaming hot ALL DAY LONG. Perfect for hot coffee in the morning, cold drinks all day long, or wine at the end of the day.

These are custom made and can be custom made for you.

Add a name or saying for no extra cost

Since these are handmade the image maybe slightly different then pictured

** All tumblers should be hand washed and not placed in the dishwasher.

There is no actual glitter the image make it appear like glitter..

[rafey-baby]

older!rafe can’t always be mean to his delicate flower, can he?

c/w: fluff with a little bit of angst in the beginning, rafe feeding sensitive!reader pasta, slight subspace, smut: oral (f receiving), overstimulation, use of daddy & dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

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Sock-covered feet pad along the hardwood floors when she finally hears the lock of the front door turning. Rafe’s home later than usual— a fact she’s entirely too aware of since she’s been impatiently waiting for him to return ever since he left her this morning without so much as a goodbye.  

Usually, she’d stir awake to him smearing kisses all over her face and mumbling sweetened words about how much he’s going to miss her during his meetings— sometimes even wake her up with his cock prodding at her entrance before fucking her all sleepy and sloppy until she’s a sobbing mess.   

However, she assumes he was still mad at her because she forgot to let him know she was going out for drinks after her lecture before her battery had died. Therefore, she hadn’t received his several calls or the texts filled with concern and only a few hours later, did she remember that she’d never actually sent the message regarding her whereabouts.  

When he came to pick her up after she’d borrowed her friend’s phone in order to reach him, he was clearly displeased; merely muttering out a “ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. You know how fuckin’ worried I was?” and crudely telling her to go sleep in the guest room because “daddy doesn’t feel like dealing with your shit tonight”, which had resulted in wet droplets surfacing to her waterline while she kept apologizing over and over again, but to no avail.   

In the morning, she’d woken up to a tear-stained pillowcase and a headache. And when she tiptoed over to the bathroom, she realized that the entire house was desolate; he hadn’t even left a note.   

Therefore, she’s not exactly sure how to approach him, hesitant in her movements before she sees him in front of her in all his glory.   

“Hi,” her voice is quiet, but her forlorn face lights up nonetheless. 

Rafe is in the process of mindlessly kicking off his shoes when he looks up; a tired smile tugging at his lips when she practically tumbles into his arms in a greeting.  

“Missed you,” she mumbles against his crisp button up when he rests his big hands on her hips in an attempt to steady her.   

“Missed you too,” he murmurs into her hair. “Got you somethin’,” he reluctantly pulls away in order to present her with a bouquet of pink lilies; her favorites.  

“What’s this for?” her moony eyes stare up at him in bewilderment.  

“Drove past a flower shop…guess they made me think of you,” he admits, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek; confusing her to no end.  

“But I thought—” she utters out, hesitant to take the flowers she feels unworthy of.   

“That I was mad at you?”   

She nods, looking up at him with guilt swimming in her eyes.  

He lets out a sigh.  

“Listen, I was, uh, maybe a little too harsh on you last night, okay? I know how forgetful you can be. Was just worried when you weren’t home and didn’t answer your phone until hours later. Thought somethin’ happened, you know?” he explains with a calmness that placates her racing mind as she accepts his gift.   

“I know, m’sorry. Won’t happen again, promise. Texted you today the second I was home, right?”   

“You did,” he confirms as he peels off his suit jacket before sniffing the air. “Smells good, what’re you making?”   

“Oh, I made you dinner,” she says bashfully, almost as if waiting for his approval.  

“You did? All by yourself?” his brows climb his forehead in surprise.   

She nods, a soft smile on her lips before he’s ushering her towards the kitchen and plucking a glass vase from the top shelf for her. 

Usually, he’s the one cooking for them since she’s not greatest in the kitchen, always so tired after studying the whole day, she’d probably forget the stove on and cause some sort of a fire due to her absentminded nature. Therefore, he prefers to prepare his girl a nurturing meal whenever he doesn’t have to work late.   

“How was uni today?” he asks as she sets the now flower-filled vase on their dining table.  

“A lot. Was kinda stressed the whole day cause I have so much homework and reading to do, don’t know how I’m supposed to have time for all of it. And then have this group project and the deadline for this essay approaching and…I don’t think my brain works anymore,” she sighs out when she peers down at the steaming bowl of spaghetti Bolognese he places on the counter.   

“Good thing you don’t need to worry that head of yours over anythin’ with me. Let dad do the thinking for you, yeah?” Rafe’s voice is as smooth as honey, causing her to blink up at him— something cottony dusting over her mind in response to his sugary cadence.   

Strong arms lift her up and place her on the marble countertop before he settles right between her thighs, like a puzzle piece she’s been missing the entire day; tall frame hovering over her even as she’s practically perched on a pedestal.   

Then, he’s picking up the plate in the most casual manner and contently shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth before groaning in satisfaction.   

“Shit, this is amazin’,” he praises around the mouthful.   

She mumbles out a flustered thank you, her thoughts all over the place since she thought he’d still be mad, but then suddenly he’s not. In fact, he’s seemingly in a great mood.   

“Did you eat yet?”  

“No, was, um…waiting for you. Didn’t wanna eat alone,” her volume is nearly inaudible. 

He stops chewing.   

“Waitin’ for me, huh?” he rasps out before he’s lifting the fork closer to her mouth.   

She looks up at him, puzzled.   

“Open,” he orders and she has no choice but to obey— let him feed her because truthfully, whenever she’s around him she gets a little dumb; can’t really focus on anything except his low drawl and gemstone eyes.   

“Good, right?”  

She hums her agreement around the bite, barely registering that some of the tomato sauce stains her chin in the process.   

“Always so messy, huh?” he tuts disapprovingly, even if he’s the one holding the fork.   

However, before her mushy brain has the time to even comprehend what he’s doing, he’s laving the flat of his tongue under her mouth; cleaning it up for her.   

“There we go,” he murmurs as he rubs a thumb over the spot for good measure.   

She swallows.   

“Want some water?” he asks and she nods, all of a sudden unable to utter out words.  

Then, he’s tipping a glass of ice-cold water to her lips, carefully watching her gulp down the liquid before he decides she’s had enough— withdrawing the cup in order to drink some of it himself.    

He continues feeding her every other bite and making casual conversation, all the while she feels herself softly slipping into a very specific headspace. And before she realizes, he’s placing the empty dish in the sink with a slight clatter; their bellies full and happy.    

She doesn’t think she wants to eat by herself ever again.  

Then, her foggy mind registers him in front of her again as he pulls her closer— warm palms slipping under her top and his thumbs idly smoothing over her tummy while she quietly stares at him with hearts for eyes.  

“You put this tiny thing on just for me, hm?” he questions as his eyes drop down to her cleavage; the pale pink lace doing a very poor job of concealing what’s underneath since she’s forgone a bra (and pants), as she usually does whenever she’s merely loitering around their home.  

“Look so pretty in this,” his dreamy voice rumbles as he swipes a thumb over a covered nipple, causing her to let out a faint gasp at the sudden contact.  

“Ray…” she hums out while he keeps rubbing over the squishy part of her body he knows gets her buzzing.  

“Hm? You feelin’ floaty already?” he asks with a gentle cadence. And she’s not sure how he always seems to know just the right words to say in order to turn her into clay.   

“Yeah, missed you so much,” her hazy eyes flicker over his face while he simply gazes at her, before he’s smearing his mouth on hers.   

There’s something hungry, primal in the way he groans against her lips— causing a whimper to escape her throat in response.  

Then, all of a sudden, he’s lifting her over his shoulder as if she weighs nothing more than a single paperclip; making her squeak out a sound of surprise when he jokingly smacks her ass while walking out of the room before throwing her on the bed.   

“Let daddy say hi to his favorite girl, yeah?” he coaxes her before he’s prying her thighs apart and nuzzling his face into her cunt through the material of her panties; nose bumping against her clit, making her shift closer to him.  

“Missed my pussy so much, you know? Wanted to fuck you nice ’n slow last night but you never came home.”   

“M’sorry, daddy,” she can’t help but whimper out when his warm tongue licks over the already dampening fabric of her underwear.   

“Yeah? You gon’ make it up to me? Let me eat you ’till I forgive you?”  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want,” she blabbers, a whine leaving her vocal cords when he plucks the soaked through material to the side and blowson her sensitive cunt.   

“Shit, you’re so wet already,” he says in awe, letting spit drip down his tongue and onto her folds anyway. Then, he’s wrapping his lips around her clit, making her cry out because she can already feel her orgasm lingering underneath the surface.  

“Need to come, can I? Please m’gonna— ” she says, almost in a trance; already so wound up. And the way he’s practically torturing her achy button with his mouth isn’t really helping.  

After he’s hummed his agreement, she’s not able to hold it in any longer— his tongue poking at her opening when the knot in her belly unfolds. She’s shaking, thighs yearning to close, if not for his strong arms holding them open as he groans around her, seemingly lost in a daze with her taste and smell practically suffocating him.  

Since he knows how insatiable she tends to be, he refuses to pull away from between her thighs. And two more orgasms later, she’s a whimpering muddle; desperately trying to drag her hips away from his unrelenting hold. However, he’s entirely too strong and she doesn’t stand a chance. 

“Ray, s’too much, need a break—” she complains, eyes beginning to turn watery in response to the overwhelming pressure.  

However, despite her protests, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he begins to mess with her entirely too sensitive clit with his fingers now— pressing and pulling and making her whine as tears trickle down her cheeks and she tries to fruitlessly wiggle away from him once more.    

“Nah, you’re good, dad wants you to give him a few more, think you can do that?” he mumbles against her sticky folds, stuffing the tip of his tongue into her weepy hole as an effort to persuade her.  

“I don’t know if I can—”  

“Shh, jus’ wanna make you feel nice, you don’t want me to?” he feigns hurt when he lifts up his head, beginning to mouth over the soft skin of her inner thighs to pacify her; his slight stubble tickling her in the process and making her twitch.  

“No, I do, I do…”   

“Then quit whinin’ and let me take care of you, hm? Show you how much I love you,” he coaxes her to give in. And when he puts it like that, she thinks it does sound rather romantic. 

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 5]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: 'Rule 27: It’s a poor choice to help a hare at high noon, but it will certainly appreciate you if you do.'

WARNING for some descriptions of violence

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

You’d first set foot on The Rose Queen when you were the tender age of eleven. Or, well, something close to that. It wasn’t like most peasant orphans were taught numbers, let alone how to interpret calendars well enough to mark the passing of years.

It was the first ship you’d ever seen up close—sleek, and salt-stained, and creaking beneath your toes. The Boy King at its helm had turned his nose up at you in his too big coat, with his too big boots and tricorn hat that kept slipping down over his eyes. It was a ragtag crew that you’d wandered into, made of nothing but runaways and street rats. The ship itself was just as unusual and fresh-faced. It was built in a very impractical sort of way, with hallways that led to nowhere and portholes that opened up into endless seas of shadow where you could tumble down, down, down for hours and never see an end (or so you’d been warned). There were paintings on the walls, all off-centered and hanging on crooked nails that wobbled with every dip in the waves. The masts and rails were stained a deep, bloody red, in honor of its title. And no matter how the raging winds and waves battered at those petals, your Captain would have you out there the next morning to paint them anew. The Rose Queen was the finest pirate ship in all the ocean, and you only half-said that out of personal bias.

The vessel of the Silver Songbirds was… not like that.

It was grand, certainly. But there was a barren cleanliness to it that didn’t feel lived in. Sure, Riddle’d had you literally scrubbing stains out of the deck with a toothbrush and pot of turpentine, but this was different. Sterile, rather than squeaky. The wood planks didn’t whine with a weary, seaworthy groan beneath your feet that you could feel through the heel of your boots—as if to reassure you it was there. The air smelled of salt, sure, and you could see a group of gulls circling overhead, but the whole of it felt… empty. Lonely.

The black haired man led you to a small, private room in the ship’s hull. That alone was strange. You’d been sharing quarters for the whole of your seafaring career. This new little suite of yours had a bed, and white paint on the walls, and a porthole for a window. He gently coaxed you into sitting at the foot of the mattress and readjusted the coat resting along your shoulders. His smile was soft, kind. The sort of warm, pretty expression that you could read about in a love poem.

You remembered your Siren’s vicious, pointed smirk—red, and haughty, and sharp enough to cut glass—and fought a pang of something you absolutely refused to put a name to.

When you blinked back into focus, his lips were moving in a slow, steady flow and you focused your best on the shape of them. It was hard, with how placid his expression was—with how little there was to make out of anything he was attempting to get across. And whether it be your furrowed brow or a sudden memory that oh right, you’d told him your ears worked as well as a three-legged horse pulling a one-wheeled cart, he startled into silence. His face twisted up with chagrin, and he offered you an apologetic smile with round, pink cheeks.

He fumbled around in his pockets for a piece of paper and scribbled out a hasty note to press into your palms.

‘My name is Neige Leblanche, and I’ll be taking care of you for this journey.’

You paused, fingers worrying at the sides of the neat, square bit of parchment. It felt right to offer your own name in return. That would be the polite thing, surely. But you paused, throat tight with uncertainty and a prickling, unpleasant sort of heat. Because you’d never even told your Siren your name, had you? Not even once.

And beneath that sudden, sour gut punch was something else.

‘Rule 116, your name is not a number, but it is your value. Do not offer it to any whose own interests are undue.’

The first time Ace had found himself with a wanted poster (‘Ugly,’ he’d complained, bitter. ‘How am I supposed to hook any tail with this? I look like a mutant potato. This stupid portrait is worse than prison.’), Riddle had taken your handwritten Book of Rules and underlined that one thrice over. You hadn’t thought much of it until you’d had to cut a hangman’s noose from around your idiot, foxy friend’s throat—the handiwork of the tavern folk he’d been boasting to only an afternoon before. And then it had made sense. Ace had survived (with a new, grand tale of woe that he liked to repeat ad nauseum until you wished you’d left him strung up), but the lesson had remained.

Carefully you swallowed the words resting on your tongue and offered a polite-ish nod in their place.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Thank you. For saving me.”

Neige shook his head in a panicked sort of rush, hands waving back and forth with a clear ‘none of that! None of that!’ before reaching back into his pockets to search for another note.

‘It was my honor,’ he wrote, words jumbled and sloppy in his haste. ‘It’s the duty of all officers to help those in need.’

Your brow pinched. Officer? Officer of what?

Your Siren had called these Songbirds dangerous. ‘Not safe’ written into the sand over and over again with his curled claws. You didn’t know much of mainland politics and other such nonsense, but maybe there was some sort of… Siren Hunting Order? Soldiers of the King sent out to scour the seas and keep them safe for a host of weary, would-be-merman-meals? That would make sense. It would make a lot of sense, actually.

Another note was pressed into your hands.

‘How did you end up stranded on that island?’

Islet, you wanted to correct petulantly. Riddle would have. Your Siren would have.

You opened your mouth and hesitated. Telling Nigel, or Nergal, or whatever his name was that your ship had been besieged by a pod of ravenous mers (and one fair-faced asshole who you already missed far, far too—) was as good as serving them up on a silver platter, wasn’t it? Siren hunters probably traded information like how pirates traded maps or merchants traded gold. And you’d be damned if your loose tongue was what led to your friend companion co-strandee’s family being hunted for sport just after he’d finally managed to make his way home again.

So you stiffened your upper lip and turned to look your savior in the eye.

“I fell overboard,” you said, firm. “Because I’m an idiot.”

He blinked, startled, and you could recognize the spluttered ‘…oh’ shaping his lips.

He handed you another scribbled bit of parchment, gaze averted and awkward.

‘I’m sorry.’

“Never apologize to the half-wit for whatever fallacy of their own led to them falling into the pit,” you recited naturally, and Nigel startled. His doe eyes went round with confusion and he tilted his head at you like a curious hound. Nothing intimidating, more like some kind of fluffy cocker spaniel or primped up lapdog staring up at you with too-long-lashes and too-few-thoughts.

You shrugged.

“Just a rule I was supposed to follow,” you shrugged off. You offered a slanted grin. “Though when you’re the idiot in question, it can be pretty hard to avoid.”

Neville smiled at you with a soft sort of laugh that you swore you could feel dancing along your skin.

Another note.

‘I’ll be back in a bit. Please enjoy the amenities here and get some rest. If you need anything, let us know and I’ll get it sorted personally.’

You dipped your chin in thanks and collapsed back against the small, flat mattress in the corner. It was soft, sturdy, probably good for your back and all that nonsense. The sheets were crisp and white, and they rubbed blandly at your weary hide. You could smell the lingering, sharp fragrance of some kind of tacky soap in the cotton. Totally not unpleasant at all. Theoretically, it should have actually been the best bed you’d ever slept in. But a part of you missed swaying back and forth in a net hammock, and an even bigger part missed plopping down in the sand with the heat of a crackling fire at your front and the even steadier warmth of the long, curling, press of gemstone scales at your back.

You flopped over onto your side and stared at the empty, carefully manicured surface of the desk opposite you and wished more than anything that you’d brought your shell.

.

.

The room was cold when you next woke, and you shivered into the jacket Neige had draped along your shoulders (because it was ‘Neige.’ It had been signed on the bottom of the note he’d left you that morning alongside your breakfast. Which was stupid. The dumbest name you’d ever heard). The starched fabric of it all wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than shivering through the chilly ocean mists that were seeping in through the porthole.

You burrowed into the swathe of white and blue wool like a rabbit in a hole, and then winced in irritation when another of those stupid, gaudy pins dug into your cheek.

You plucked the first from its place—the duo of silver songbirds. It really was quite pretty, despite the ominous undertones and all. Two, graceful, delicate sets of feathered wings arching up into the sky—forever frozen in a dance to the clouds. You dropped it into the little, dark crevice between your bed and the wall. Good riddance.

Next came a crest that was familiar in a distant sort of way—a memory that tickled that back of your brain from days long past. You hadn’t noticed it before, what with the echoes of ‘not safe, not safe, not safe’ blaring in your head like an alarm, but it was just as neatly polished as the birds pinned above. It was diamond shaped, the edges embossed in twining lines like the cut of a rope. At its head sat a strange sort of crown, with the arches and more familiar pointed designs replaced by the billowing arcs of sails.  All of that gallantry surrounded a pair of rearing stallions—hooves crossed along a golden edged sword and circled with blue ivy.

You twisted it between your fingers, watching the metal glint in the low light. You hadn’t set foot in proper society since Riddle had let your young, dumb self abscond into the ocean all those years ago. You could hardly remember the flag of our home country, let alone the specifics.

You frowned and the edges of the badge pricked at your fingers.

You dropped this one behind the bed too, with a petulant flick of your wrist to make sure it really stuck.

.

.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around more often, there’s some business I’ve been having to take care of.’

You handed the note back with a shrug.

“It’s no bother.”

Neige offered an apologetic grimace nonetheless and another of those smiles that looked a bit too sweet to be real.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

You bristled before you could help it, thoughts spiraling away to harpoons, and nets, and hunting parties. And then you settled your shoulders into a polite, easy line and offered one of your own too-put-together smiles in return.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, you saved me after all.”

Neige smiled again, easy and comfortable, and pressed another slip of parchment into your palms.

‘Where were you headed? When you fell overboard?’

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck you with a barbed cactus branch dipped in—

Ahem.

You cleared your throat in a way that was surely a Very Normal Person Thing To Do, and tried to ignore the fact that he was so brazenly attempting to map out his plan of attack—to pinpoint the route that the sirens had been chasing and run after it like hounds tracking a fresh scent. Which, to be fair, sirens were a scourge on the seas. Hundreds upon hundreds of good men and women had been lost to their crooning songs and wickedly sharp teeth. They were vicious, often cruel, and so much stronger than any mortal sailor that of course the world above would fear them. You’d been very much of the same opinion until only quite recently, and now—now you just couldn’t.

“I don’t know where we were going,” you lied, and Neige’s brow pinched in a dour, rejected kind of way. “But,” you tried, sprinkling in a touch of truth to make the lie go down easier, “I know we were coming from Port o'Bliss.”

He nodded, that uncongenial expression slipping off his face as easily as it’d settled there.

He rattled off something quick and bubbly, and you pointedly arched a brow. The brunette blushed bright pink and hastily scrabbled for another bit of paper.

‘Thank you for being so helpful. I know it can’t be easy.’

Your neutral expression froze on your face and when you smiled it felt more like a polite bearing of teeth. Did he know? Could he see right through you? Or worse, was he getting all the answers he wanted from you either way, no matter how you tried to coat it in a veneer of misdirection.

“Sure thing.”

He handed you another note, this time for his pocket. Crumpled and soft, the ink a bit smeared along the curling letters.

‘It’s a poor choice to help a heron at high noon,’ it said, ‘but it will certainly appreciate you if you do. So my thanks to you.’

Something settled in your gut at the familiarity, something deceptively warm and homey.

“It’s a hare,” you said, without much thought. “Not a heron.”

Neige nodded with a polite, smiling mumble that looked like another apology, and then left you to your own devices.

That night, a veritable feast was delivered to your tiny, white-walled cabin. A grand spread of food fit for a king. There was roasted fowl, pools of thick, spiced gravies, mountains of vegetables that you’d never even seen before. And tarts. So many colorful, fruity tarts that were so sweet they almost made your tongue curl.

“What’s the occasion?” you asked as Neige took a seat at your desk to nibble at the meal alongside you—a cloth napkin folded neatly across his nap and a clear glass flute for wine placed a bit precariously by his elbow.

He smiled, honey warm, and offered you another note.

‘For helping the hare.’

.

.

Neige didn’t come to visit you the next morning, and his absence had the hair at the nape of your neck standing on end.

You paced and paced around your cube of a barrack. It was maybe four steps from one end to the next, but the constant bumping your toes against the wall was better than just sitting there doing nothing. The worst part was the silence. Not the one in your head. Yes, yes, you were more than used to that. On and on, yada yada. But the silence of the ship. The Rose Queen had always felt like a living thing, a great, wooden beast with a pulse you could feel thrumming beneath your toes, your palms. All you had to do was lay a hand against its side and you could feel the rumble of the tide beyond, the rushing footsteps of sailors sprinting about to meet one of Riddle’s orders or other, the thump of heavy, wet mop heads smacking the deck overhead. It was quiet, but it wasn’t quiet. This ship? No matter how you laid against the boards or pressed flat to the walls, there was nothing. And it made you feel like you were trapped aboard a vessel full of ghosts.

The sun had long begun to set by the time Neige returned, and by then you were nothing but a livewire of nerves.

Had they found him? Your Siren? Was he there somewhere, just a few floors above—strung up like a fish in a net? Caught and displayed like a fine trophy? Or had they killed him outright? Had they found his pod? Had he put up a fight? Had he—

A piece of rolled parchment was held out for you to take, a satin blue ribbon tied along its belly. Neige’s soft, brown gaze was glued to the floor and you snatched the paper from his hands like a rabid cat and tore it open. You could barely keep your eyes steady to read it all—fine, pointed print done up in a neat hand.

‘—danger to those who venture—'

‘—for the safety of the people—’

‘—therefore, the decision has been made—'

‘—with the greatest consideration—’

‘—with immediate effect—'

‘—we have declared the extermination of—'

“You can’t!” you wailed, and Neige’s doe eyes darted up to yours and immediately away once more in guilt. “He’s—he’s not bad. I swear! I know how things look—and—and I know he’s not—that’s he’s a—but you can’t—”

Neige’s wavering stared jumped back to you in open surprise, and you saw his lips twitch on one word—delicate brows pinching in question.

‘He?’

You frowned and fought the urge to stomp your feet. Because, okay, fine. Sure, you were arguing tooth and nail for someone whose name you maybe didn’t even know. Someone who had swum away from your stupidly sentimental ass with all the power and grace of a beast fit to rule the depths of the oceans while you could barely flounder at its surface. And sure, sirens killed people and ate them. But this one was—he was special, and you’d be damned if you let some primped up fishermen try to reel him in on a hook just because he’d maybe eaten a few people. And—

There was a hand on your shoulder, and Neige was staring down at you with an expression not dissimilar to that of a parent about to tell their child that the cat had got out and met a terrible, squishy end beneath the wheels of your neighbor’s carriage. He sighed, dark lashes brushing along his cheeks, and then reached out with his other hand to tap a finger between your collar bones.

“What?” you snapped, and he tapped again. “Me? What about me?”

He paused, gaze meeting yours with a pointed sort of melancholy.

Oh.

Oh.

You remembered the pins you’d dropped behind your bed, one by one. You remembered the strange coat of arms crowned with golden sails and bearing a great, shining sword. Something regal, something imperial that a commoner like you would have only caught fleeting glimpses of in parades, and marches, and war calls.

Something like, say, Pyroxene’s Royal Naval Fleet.

You glanced down at the parchment again, crumpled between your fists, and smoothed it out into something legible beneath your fingers. You reread the text with careful focus.

‘For the Crime of Piracy’ it said. Right at the tippity top. In red ink.

“…ah,” you blinked. “That makes a lot more sense.”

.

.

You were to walk the plank on the ‘morrow.

Which honestly, you hadn’t even thought was really a Thing—walking the plank, argh. Fiddly dee and a yo-ho-ho. That sort of storybook nonsense. The parables that parents passed onto their children to try and scare them away from a life of villainy. Real pirates were put to the rack, or hanged in the town squares to scare the adults away from doing the same.

But you supposed it was practical, at least. Blood was hard to scrub out of wooden decks, so beheading would have been a bit of a mess. Bullets were best to be conserved out on the high seas where stocks were already low, and honestly, your body would just have to be thrown overboard anyways before it stunk up the barracks. So, like, doing it all in one would be quite efficient. You could appreciate that. 

Your hands would be bound at your back and you’d be given three breaths, three steps, and then you’d be tumbling down into the waves below. Claimed by the waters that you’d patrolled for so many years now. Fitting, honestly. Riddle would be proud (beneath the raging, spitting indignation of you being caught at all, but that was another matter). At least you wouldn’t be going out from food poisoning or something mundane like that, so that was a win. And who knew. Maybe your Siren would find you again when you were nestled to rest in some seabed not too far from here, and he could finally make a meal of your dumb ass yet. Happy endings abound.

You wondered idly at the dual branches of fate you’d wandered along in these past weeks, and if it would have been better to hide away when you’d first seen those sails on the horizon. To keep to the little, crescent island you’d found yourself on and slowly starved to death. Alone, abandoned, and sitting in a forever stillness worse than any silence you’d known before.  Forever staring out over the horizon for a glance of amethyst fins that you knew you’d never see again.

If given the choice between the two, you’d take the plank.

.

Neige brought you another feast that night, and you gorged on it merrily. 

When he nervously kept piling your plate with choice cuts after choice cuts, gaze diverted to the floor and looking like a kicked puppy dog with its tail between its legs, you rolled your eyes and swatted at his fingers.

“Unclench yourself,” you huffed, and he puffed up stuttery and pink in horror. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re just doing your job, right? If we’d met under different circumstances I bet I would have shot you first. So, really. All’s fair.”

He worried his lower lip between his teeth, guilt still swimming heavy and warm in those doe eyes of his.

He said something under his breath, something that you’d bet even if your ears were working at full capacity you wouldn’t have been able to parse out. He leaned forward to scrawl a note on the napkin beside your plate.

‘You’re happier now? After all this? I don’t get it.’

You reached out to pat him merrily on the shoulder, more a smack smack smack then anything really pleasant. He could see him fighting a wince with all the trembling sort of bravery of a field mouse. Poor dear. What was the Royal Navy thinking? Hiring on someone who looked like they belonged on an advert for rouge and sweets. This was the last face a pirate was expected to jeer into? This one? Really? It was a wonder this little, squirrely man hadn’t keeled over the first time someone spat on his boots.

“It’s a poor choice to help the fish at high noon,” you said around a mouthful of crumbs. “But it’s my choice. And I’m happy to do it.”

“Fish?” you saw him mouth, brow pinched, and you batted at his shoulder again before reaching for another of those too-sweet tarts.

.

.

There was a whole procession for your execution. With speeches. Which even with the slowly encroaching panic worming into your guts, you couldn’t help but think was at least a little funny.  

The whole crew was lined up in solemn formation, listening stalwartly to some judge, or high ranking officer, or whatever rattle off who even knew what. Your crimes? A homily? The lunch menu? Fuck if you had any clue. And you were the one being fed to the sharks. There had to be some joke hidden in here, right? The scoundrel pirate who could never be tried, simply because they couldn’t hear their own sentencing. You wouldn’t even know when to stand up and shout ‘I object!’ It would probably be pretty funny, right? If you just did that out of nowhere. And what was the worst that could happen? Oh, no. A fine. Please, sir. Add it to the list of debts I owe from beyond my watery grave. Amen.

A hand at your lower back gave you a gentle nudge forward and you shifted against the ropes binding your wrists. They were nicer than your own stores aboard the Rose Queen. Not nearly as itchy, the fibers neat and clearly expensive. Neige stepped up beside you and offered you a look that was likely meant to be kind, but your growing nerves had started to eat through your willingness to play friendly. You could feel the weight of the crew around you, even if you couldn’t hear them. The creak of the deck beneath your toes as they shifted about, the way their bulk must have been shielding you from the worst of the wind. Unlike with your own mismatched family of castaways, their presence wasn’t reassuring. And you kept your eyes locked forward and away from the field of sharp gazes eating into your hide.

The plank was narrow, and immediately you were fighting the urge to sway on your toes. Having your hands bound at your rear only made it worse. It threw off the whole of your center of gravity and had you feeling dizzy and seasick.

You took one breath, stuttery, and one step. The wood whined beneath your heels in a vibration you could feel all the way up to your knees.

Another breath, another step. You could feel the salt soaked board starting to bend now. Clearly it wasn’t meant to support much of anything, let alone a whole person. And for some reason the idea of it breaking beneath you was so much worse than taking that last step all on your own. A sudden plunge that was out of your control. It had your heart hammering in your throat and cold nausea bubbling in your belly.

You looked down. You didn’t want to, but it was like your gaze was a weighted, magnetic thing. Pulled down into the salty depths below. The water looked rougher than it had a moment ago, or maybe you were just really starting to panic. You could see the white froth of the wake breaking against the ship’s hull. It churned like the start of a storm, which was really, terribly inconvenient. Seeing as it’d been so still and calm just a few minutes before. And, y’know, the fact that you had to fall into that mess of sharp peaks and rocking waves. You swore you could see dark shapes flitting about just beneath the surface, a flash of grey, or maybe green. It was hard to tell, with the brightness of the early morning sun in your eyes.

No one was poking at your back, urging you forward, which you thought was quite odd. You’d been taking your sweet ol’ time sauntering to your demise. You’d assumed they’d have less patience for a pirate with cold feet. Instead, the world around you was just silent and still. Shifting with the raging waves below, but empty and quiet as a tomb for all you knew otherwise.

You took your last breath, your last step.

And then the ship lurched and you were plummeting towards the water. The dissonance between having something beneath your feet—no matter how frail—and then nothing was jarring, and it had you gasping on impulse. Hair whipping at your cheeks and lungs squeezing tight as the air screamed past your throat. It felt like you were drowning before you even hit the water.

When you did finally crash into the waves, it hurt. You’d always been a fairly proficient swimmer, but whether it be the mind numbing panic or the ropes binding you tight, tight, tight, you just started to sink. The salt stung like an open wound, and the water was cold. Frigid. Like being tossed into the jagged side of a glacier. You at least had the sense not to gulp down a mouthful of water out of reflex, but that didn’t make things much better.

You screwed your eyes shut, bubbles frothing at your nose, and tried to find that peace that you’d clung to all night long. A life for a life, one catch for another. No one was going to miss you anyways. And if you had to meet the reaper some way, then of all the ends the universe could have spun for you, at least this one had some meaning to it.

You sighed into the darkness, soft, but when your lips parted next around what should have been a mouthful of icy saltwater, all you could taste was air.

Your eyes shot open in the gloom to a mess of familiar golds and purples that you’d thought you’d never see again.

Your Siren pulled back, bubbles curling from the edge of his lips into a soft stream of warmth between the two of you. Nestling as deep as a full breath all the way in the tightest corners of your lungs. You could feel the dip of his claws as he settled his hands at your shoulders—keeping you in place. And immediately you shrieked and flailed in your bindings.

“You—!”

You promptly choked on another mouthful of sea water and your Siren wailed—all that molten fondness in those lovely amethyst eyes of his sharpening into familiar, pissy exasperation from one second to the next. He dragged your face back to his, slotting his mouth against yours and pushing more air into your lungs. You leaned into it before you could help yourself. Half for the whole oxygen thing, and half, because, well—

When he pulled away this time he smacked a hand over your mouth with a sneer, his thumb and index finger hooked upward to pinch at your nose. He jabbed a claw in your face with a clear ‘stay put’ and immediately went to work cutting through the bindings twined along your arms. The ropes fell away beneath his talons like butter to a hot blade, and he fretfully ran his palms up and down your limbs—looking for any stray bits of netting like a compulsion. Once he seemed certain that you’d been properly freed from your ties, he hauled you up against his chest in a grip that had you losing all the air in your lungs all over again. You could feel the cool jut of the sea glass around his neck pressing into your collar, and he buried his head down into your throat until you didn’t know where he ended and you began. The frills of his tail fluttered in the water, and the bulk of those twining strands curled up and around your legs like a barnacle.

He was warm. Warmer than you’d been expecting, for a creature who spent his life patrolling the darkest depths of the ocean. It wasn’t the same sort of heat that would beat off a human’s hide, but it was more comforting than any you’d ever known. You burrowed down against his shoulder, nose scrunching against the side of his neck and the fins at his ears brushing your temple. You could feel his claws flexing at your sides, feel the shift of his scales against your skin. And just as your lungs were starting to burn, he ducked forward to pull you into another kiss—filling your chest with wonderful, wonderful oxygen all over again.

You blinked blearily past the sting of salt in your eyes and he scrubbed a thumb against your cheek.

Now that those high, wonderful, heart bursting emotions were settling back into something manageable beneath your ribs, you took a moment to look at him. Really look at him. Because you’d sent him on his way, hadn’t you? Waved him off with well wishes and a hope for his happiness. And all that aside, how had he even managed to find you—

Bubbles streamed from your nose as that newest shared breath began to run dry, and your Siren hooked an arm around your waist to propel you upwards.

You crested the surface with a gasp, paddling instinctively against the churning wake. When all that did was leave you smack, smack, smacking at your Siren’s chest like a flailing toddler, he hissed—a spitting, pissy thing you could feel on the breeze—and hauled you back up against him. Just like he had all those times you’d swum together in your cove. You forced yourself to settle, bobbing gently against the tide as he kept you both aloft.

Once your body had managed to catch up with your brain to realize that it was, in fact, not drowning, all of the adrenaline rushed out of you like a broken spicket. You slumped against the Siren’s chest, fuzzy headed and dizzy. Because he’d saved you. Which made no sense in the least. But you’d almost died, and he’d saved you—

Your gaze drifted back up to the ship from which you’d only so recently taken your Cannonball of Doom and startled.

There was blood everywhere.

Staining the railings, splashed along the low flying flags, dripping along the deck. A macabre mess of gore and claw marks gutting the once grand vessel like a beached whale. Some of the crew still seemed to be hanging onto the life rafts, others were taking running leaps into the water like they were under compulsion—eyes glazed over and distant. There was a prickling all along your skin, something twisting familiar and strange in your gut, and oh. Oh.

One of the grander looking officers (the one who had been giving your pre-execution speech, perhaps? He looked similar enough) was shouting something from his place at the bow of one of the life rafts—arm extended in a grand show of valor and sword glinting into the light of the morning. And then a great, emerald siren was rearing over the side of that tiny vessel with a sharp grin on his face and sharper talons on display. The officer was dragged overboard, and the siren’s tail came down on the guardrails with a force that had the wood splintering and the already haphazard little boat rock, rock, rocking until it caught on a high wave and capsized.

You could see the flash of colorful scales and the tips of even brighter fins all around. Cresting above the water just long enough to grab hold of another wailing victim and drag them down to the depths. There was enough blood in the water that you could smell it. Acrid and copper against the ocean’s already sharp, salty musk. And sure, you were a pirate. You’d been in raids, you’d seen death. Plenty of it. But this. Well. It was unfamiliar. In a strange, detached sort of way. These assholes had chucked you overboard, after all. So you only really had a teensy, tiny pinch of sympathy for the fact that being eaten alive probably hurt like a sonofabitch.

It was more strange, you supposed, to be at the center of a sirens’ hunt and not be the one facing down the angry, bitey end.

You kicked in the water, nose scrunching when the red tide lapped against your chin.

“This isn’t going to attract sharks, is it?”

Because if you were saved from drowning at the hands of a royal militia only to wind up as a fish’s dinner, you would be terribly annoyed.

Your Siren rolled his eyes at you, like you were just the most ridiculous and stupid creature in all of creation. And then he made a languid swipe of his large, fully-healed tail and began to swim away from the literal bloodbath he and his pod had wrought. With you and all your silly, fragile humanness in tow.

It was far too relaxing, being pulled along against his side. The gentle rocking of his tail beneath you as he swam at the surface—always ensuring to keep your head above the water as he did so. You could feel your eyes starting to dip, feel a yawn cracking along your lips. Maybe it was just the adrenaline crash hitting, or maybe it was the relief that you hadn’t even wanted to address. He’d come back. For you.

The earless pirate who never seemed to do much but stumble into one conundrum after another. Who had only annoyed him at best and shorn his fins to shredded, useless bits at worst. Who had thrown shells at his head and only nicked him a little when you cut the ropes from his hide.

Who had made him human foods with fire and taught him your language in a messy scrawl of sand and snark. Who swam with him in the bay and twined a necklace of shining, purple sea glass around his neck. Who braided his hair, and laughed at his pouting, and—

There was a rough roll of surf that splashed in your face and you spluttered against the white froth.

The Siren paused and beat his tail against the deeper waters, propping you upright as you hacked and fretfully patting at your back. You could see his mouth moving as he mumbled something, brow pinched, and stared back at him with your own wobbly frown—confused.

“Why did you come back?” you asked, and the Siren’s brows jumped up into his hairline. He looked startled, genuinely. And that only had you even more befuddled. “And how did you even find me?”

This time when he huffed, there was a subtle sort of irritation there that you’d learn to recognize well.

He was pouting.

Something brushed against your fingers in the water, soft and fleeting. You glanced down just in time to catch a blur of lavender flitting nervously below the choppy waves, never dipping close enough again to touch, but looking hesitant to keep much further either.

The Siren followed your gaze only to narrow his eyes, pointed teeth bared as he swatted at the poor, round, little octopus with his tail. A clear shoo, shoo if you’d ever seen one. The octopus squeaked, sending bubbles spiraling in all directions, and frantically looped out of the way of the mer’s petulant tantrum. You whacked him right back, indignant on your teeny friend’s behalf. Because—!

“You followed me,” you burbled, and the little octopus spun in a fretful circle. If you didn’t know better, you’d say the poor, little dear was wringing its hands. Your Siren bared his teeth and smacked out again. “Hey! Don’t be an ass! He saved me,” you argued, and your bitch of a merman just snapped his fangs in your face like a feral cat.

You gawked.

“No way. You can’t be annoyed that you were beat out by a baby, purple octopus the size of an orange.”

He huffed and turned up his nose, and you burst out into laughter for the first time since you’d watched him swim out of your cove all those days ago.

You laughed and laughed until tears were beading at the corners of your eyes, and your Siren was grumbling in complaint and pinching your sides with his curved claws. There wasn’t real malevolence in that stern glare of his, though—just more of the prickly, teasing sort of snide side eye he’d given you in your latter weeks together. Fondness, you realized. That’s what was softening it all. The same sort of warmth you held for him.

Your favorite, pissy, preening, self-righteous goldfish.

You snorted into his shoulder, still shaking on giggles, and you could feel his sigh against your temple. You burrowed down against his side, feeling his fins brush along your hips as he kept the both of you afloat.

“Thanks,” you said, soft. “For coming back.”

You were expecting another melodramatic sigh, another plaintive roll of the eyes. Instead, his fingers came up to twine with yours and tugged your hand to rest against the pendant at his throat. You blinked, confused, and he just curled your palm around that little, sand-smoothed piece of glass.

You arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

This time he did roll his eyes at you, and when he spoke he mouthed the word dramatic and wide so he was sure that you could see it.

‘Moron.’

You whined in complaint and smacked his fingers away. “But I’m your moron.”

Another huff, soft against the nape of your neck. And you could see the barest twitch of a smile on his red lips as he turned back into the tide and continued his trek home.

.

.

.

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[greengoblinswifey]

Sins of the Flesh— Father Charlie Mayhew x Nun!Reader

summary— returning to your life of sin, you’re determined to tempt the one man bound by his faith, your hot priest.

warnings— sacrilege, smoking, dubious morality, daddy kink, degradation, praise kink, father/priest kink, face slapping, spitting kink, spanking, ass slapping, choking, face fucking, oral, blasphemy, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Growing up, your parents knew there was something off about you, always defying authority, always choosing to do the wrong things, and it was always your way or the high way. You grew up religious, or at least they tried to raise in that way but you were always defiant.

As soon as you were old enough they gave you to the only church that would take you, they thought religion would change you, they thought being a nun make you new as promised.

As soon as you laid eyes on Father Charlie Mayhew, your old ways slowly crept back upon you, reminding you, you were still that depraved little girl. They thought making you become a nun would cause you to forget the worldly life you lived before, smoking, fucking your teachers, your father’s friends, sneaking out, partying, for a moment you even thought so too. But the thoughts ran rampant in your head the moment you laid your eyes on your new priest.

Just like before, you would do anything to get what you wanted, and that included Father Charlie.

You lighted the cigarette between your fingers, watching as the sun set at the back of the church. It was empty, you didn’t know where the other nuns were and frankly you didn’t care. All day you waited in the church for Father Charlie to show up, draped in white thigh high stockings, a short sexy backless black dress showing your ass and the veil covering your head. Tonight was the night you would get your heart’s desire and you knew that desire, desired you too.

The church was silent, save for the soft creak of the door as Father Charlie stepped in. He squinted against the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, his gaze narrowing on the figure sitting at the front pew. At first, he thought his eyes were betraying him. The curve of a bare back gleamed in the candlelight. Surely, no one would dare—

But then you stood.

His breath hitched as his heart slammed against his ribcage. You turned to face him, and he stumbled back a step, nearly dropping the Bible he carried.

There you were.

White thigh-high stockings clung to your legs, the black dress you wore clinging to every curve and showing your ass. It wasn’t just revealing—it was sacrilege. A skimpy, backless thing that barely grazed your thighs, with a mockery of a nun's veil perched on your head. The candlelight danced along your exposed skin as if taunting him, daring him to look.

“Good evening, Father,” you said, voice low, smooth, dangerous.

He swallowed hard, clutching the cross that hung from his neck like a lifeline. “I rebuke you,” he stammered, raising the cross in trembling hands. “I rebuke this- this evil—”

You took a step closer, your heels clicking softly against the stone floor. He froze, the words caught in his throat as you raised a single finger to his lips. The touch silenced him instantly.

“Shh,” you whispered, plucking the cross from his hand and placing it gently on the bench. His breath came in shallow gasps, and he swore the metal burned against your skin, but you didn’t flinch.

“Sister Y/N,” he managed, his voice cracking, “what… what is this? What are you wearing? This—this is not of God!”

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. “Of God?” you echoed, your tone dripping with mockery. “Charlie, I was never of God. This is who I am. This is who I’ve always been. And deep down, you’ve always known that.”

He shook his head fiercely, the words tumbling from his lips in desperation. “Flee from sin, sister! ‘Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own.’” His voice trembled, reciting the verse as though it could shield him.

You laughed—a soft, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “No verse, no prayer, no scripture is going to change what I feelwhen I see you, Charlie.”

He flinched at the use of his name, his throat working as he tried to swallow the lump forming there.

“What I feel,” you continued, stepping closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “when I see your hands clutching that cross, when I see the way you look at me right now, Tell me, Father, does your heart race for God? Or is it something else entirely?”

“I—” he began, but the words died on his tongue.

You leaned in, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from you, and his knees threatened to buckle. “You can fight it all you want,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “But we both know the truth. Temptation has already won.”

“Shut up, you Jezebel!” Charlie’s voice thundered through the empty church, though his trembling hands betrayed his conviction. “Temptation will never win!”

You only laughed, the sound sultry and mocking. “Really?” you said, running your hands slowly over your breasts, fingers teasing the curve of your waist before sliding down along your hips. His eyes flickered, darting between your hands and your face, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You’re staring at me, Father. You’re watching. That alone proves you wrong. Temptation already won.”

“No,” he hissed, gripping the Bible tighter as though it could anchor him. But his voice lacked the weight of conviction now, cracking under the pressure of your nearness, your audacity.

You stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, the heels of your shoes clicking against the stone floor. “You’re holding that Bible like it’ll save you,” you said, your tone soft but dripping with wicked amusement. “Deep down, you think resisting me will make God go easier on you, don’t you?”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move when you reached out and plucked the Bible from his hands. He didn’t even flinch when you grabbed the white stole draped over his shoulders and threw it to the floor.

“Enough,” he growled, but his voice was weak, his breath shallow.

“Enough?” you echoed with a smirk before smashing your lips against his.

The kiss was all teeth and desperation, as though both of you had been starving for touch. He resisted for only a moment, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides, before he gave in. His fingers curled around your bare back, trailing lower until they squeezed your ass hard enough to make you gasp against his lips.

“God forgive me,” he whispered against your mouth, though his actions spoke louder.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “You’ve already lost, Father.”

His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving as you grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the raised chair where he would sit during sermons. He stumbled after you, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you doing—”

You shoved him down into the chair, the power dynamic shifting completely. His eyes widened as you dropped to your knees in front of him, your hands working quickly at his belt. “Stop this—” he began, but the words fell flat as your smirk deepened.

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore, Charlie.”

When you pulled his pants and boxers down, he froze, his jaw tightening. “You’re—filthy,” he growled, though the raw need in his eyes betrayed him.

You grinned, your hands trailing teasingly along his thighs. “And yet, here you are. Letting me suck your cock. Watching me.”

“You’re a disgrace,” he muttered, his voice shaking as he gripped the edge of the chair, trying not to let himself fall completely. But when you took him down your throat, his head fell back against the chair, a groan escaping his lips despite himself.

“Say it again, Father,” you teased, pausing just long enough to look up at him. “Tell me how terrible I am.”

“You’re disgusting,” he spat, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. “You’re nothing but a shameless little whore in a costume.”

“And you’re no better,” you countered, your voice dripping with triumph. “You’re the one holding me here. You’re the one losing control.”

He cursed under his breath, his fingers tightening in your hair after ripping the veil off. “This means nothing.”

You smiled, your voice a soft whisper as you worked. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Father.”

For a moment, the church was silent except for the ragged sound of his breathing and the gagging sounds you made on his cock. You were all doe eyed, staring up at him as you bobbed your head fast, taking him feel in your throat like you were starved.

Charlie’s grip on your curls tightened, his control unraveling with every passing second. His composure shattered as he let out a guttural moan, his body trembling as he gave in completely, letting his cum shoot down your throat. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his face torn between anger and shame.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your smirk as wicked as ever. “Well, well,” you teased, your voice dripping with mockery. “Are you ashamed, Father? Ashamed you’re nothing but a filthy little man-whore?”

The words barely left your mouth before his hand cracked against your cheek, the sharp sound echoing through the empty church. Your head snapped to the side, your cheek stinging, but instead of backing down, you slowly turned back to him, sticking out your tongue with a defiant grin.

“Again, Daddy,” you said, the name deliberately provocative.

His jaw clenched, his fury rising as he struck you again, harder this time. The sting only made your grin widen as your hands shamelessly cupped your breasts, pushing them together. “That all you’ve got?” you purred, daring him further.

“You’re insufferable,” he growled, his voice thick with frustration. But instead of another slap, he grabbed your wrist and yanked you up, pulling you over his lap in one swift motion.

“Hey—” you began, but the words turned into a startled squeal as he shoved you forward, leaving your ass high in the air.

“What are you—”

The first smack landed hard on your exposed skin, cutting off your question and replacing it with a gasp.

“You think you’re in control here?” he muttered, his hand coming down again, leaving a sharp sting that radiated across your skin.

Each spank made you squeal, your hands gripping his thigh as you tried to steady yourself. Your cheeks burned—not just from the spanking but from the sheer humiliation of it. Yet deep down, you knew the truth. Your plan had backfired and in the best way possible.

By the time he finished, your brown skin was bruised and throbbing, your breath coming in shallow gasps.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and almost taunting as he ran a hand over your sore skin. “A filthy little Jezebel who thought she could win.”

You lifted your head, still defiant even through the haze of embarrassment. “And yet, here we are, Father,” you said, your voice breathless.

He snorted, pulling you up and setting you in the chair where he usually sat, the shift in power unmistakable.

“Let’s see how a slut like you tastes,” he muttered, dropping to his knees before you.

For the first time, the smugness faltered from your expression, replaced with genuine surprise as he pushed your knees apart and leaned forward. His tongue was hot and deliberate, and your gasp quickly turned into a moan as your back arched against the chair.

“Oh, look at you,” he murmured between strokes, his tone switching from harsh to saccharine. “Squirming like the desperate whore you are. Is this what you wanted? To be worshipped like the sinner you are?”

Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the slicked-back strands as your head tilted back, your breath coming in broken gasps. “You’re pathetic,” you managed, the words breaking through your moans. “A priest on his knees, doing this.”

He groaned against you, the vibrations shooting through your body. “Say whatever you want, Jezebel,” he muttered, his lips brushing against sensitive skin. “You’re mine now.”

Your legs began to tremble, your grip tightening in his hair as he worked you relentlessly, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. “Charlie,” you gasped, your voice rising into a desperate cry. “You’re so—”

But the words dissolved into a scream as release hit you, your body shaking uncontrollably. Your hands fisted in his hair, holding him in place until you finally collapsed against the chair, your body limp.

Charlie pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked up at you, a mix of pride and defiance in his eyes.

“Well?” he asked, his voice low and smug. “Still think you’re in control?”

You leaned forward, your grin as wicked as ever. “Always,” you purred.

His hand shot out, gripping your throat firmly, cutting off your attempt to take control. His gaze was dark, his breath heavy, but his dominance was clear.

“Enough,” Charlie growled, his voice low and commanding. “This is my show now. You want to play games, little bitch? Let’s see how far you’ll go.”

With a sudden pull, he dropped into the seat, hauling you onto his lap. Before you could react, he positioned you above him, and with one forceful motion, he made you sink down onto him.

Your head fell back with a sharp cry, the sound echoing in the vast emptiness of the church. “Oh, my—”

“Don’t you dare,” he interrupted, his grip tightening on your hips. “You don’t get to call His name like this.”

The stretch was unbearable, a delicious burn that left you gasping, trembling as you tried to adjust. His hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt.

“Move,” he commanded, his voice rough. “Do what you so desperately wanted, sinner.”

You obeyed, slowly lifting yourself before dropping down again, each movement drawing a gasp from your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, and the pace you set was erratic, your body struggling to keep up.

Charlie’s laugh was deep and cruel. “Look at you,” he mocked, his fingers digging into your waist. “Can’t even handle what you started. Struggling already?”

“I can—” you started, but your words turned into a whimper as he thrust up into you, his movements brutal and precise.

“You can’t even lie convincingly,” he said with a smirk, slapping your ass again as he began to move beneath you. “But don’t worry—I’ll make sure you learn what happens to disobedient little brats.”

As his pace increased, the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to hold on, your cries growing louder with each motion. But then, with a sudden crack, the sound of a cross falling from the wall startled you both.

You froze, your chest heaving as you glanced toward it. The heavy wooden symbol lay on the ground, its impact still in the air.

“There’s no going back now,” he said, his tone dark as he pulled your gaze back to him. “Might as well see this through.”

With renewed determination, you began moving again, his hands guiding you as you bounced on him. Your breath hitched, your body trembling as you neared the edge.

“Be a good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come on, Jezebel. Let go for me.”

His words sent you spiraling, and you cried out as the coil in your belly snapped, your release shuddering through you. Your body shook, but he didn’t stop.

Instead, Charlie gripped you tightly and stood, lifting you as though you weighed nothing. You barely had time to catch your breath before he pressed you against the pulpit, the sacred space now a backdrop to his unrelenting desire.

His thrusts were harsh and deliberate, driving you further into the wood. “Open your mouth,” he ordered, his voice like a growl.

You obeyed, your lips parting as he leaned closer. His spit landed on your tongue, and he watched with dark satisfaction as you swallowed without hesitation.

“Good girl,” he said, a cruel smirk on his lips as he kept moving, his pace relentless.

You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging in as you gasped, “You’re pathetic. A priest defiling his own church.”

“And you’re nothing but a filthy little sinner,” he shot back, his voice laced with both anger and satisfaction. “But look at you—begging for it.”

Your body tensed again, the heat building as his movements pushed you closer and closer. With a final, shattering cry, you came undone once more, your legs trembling as you clung to him.

“Daddy,” you panted.

Charlie’s breath was heavy, his face inches from yours as he stilled, a mixture of triumph and shame in his eyes.

“You’ll never win,” he said, his voice low and hoarse.

You smirked, your voice soft but dripping with defiance. “I already have.”

You slid off him slowly, your legs shaking as you steadied yourself. Turning to the altar, you leaned forward, arching your back and wiggling your hips with a teasing grin.

“It’s your turn, daddy,” you purred, your voice dripping with mockery. “Don’t Catholics believe in not wasting their seed? Isn’t it—sinful?”

Charlie froze, his jaw tightening as his eyes raked over your form, spread open and shameless against the sacred altar. His fists clenched, but his resolve cracked.

“You’re despicable,” he growled, stepping closer. “Arching yourself like that—mocking this holy place.”

“And yet,” you teased, glancing back at him, “here you are.”

The last thread of his control snapped. Dropping to his knees, Charlie grabbed your hips and slapped your ass hard, the sound echoing through the quiet church. “You’re such a filthy little temptress,” he spat, positioning himself behind you.

With one swift motion, he sank into you, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. His grip on your waist was bruising as he set a punishing rhythm, each movement driving you forward against the altar.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“All for you, Father,” you taunted, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk. “If you keep being this filthy priest, maybe I’ll keep being your little sinner and you’ll keep fucking this tight pussy.”

He groaned, his fingers digging into your flesh as you pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust. His words came harsh and degrading, but his voice carried a grudging admiration. “You’re disgusting. Throwing yourself at me like this—like a cheap little whore.”

“And you love it,” you countered, your voice breathy as you moved against him. “Admit it, Charlie, you’ve wanted this. You’ve wanted me.”

“You’re mine,” he snarled, his hands sliding up to grip your waist, pulling you harder against him. “Do you hear me? Mine. My little bitch. And you’re going to cum on my cock again, aren’t you?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body trembled as the pressure built. With a sharp cry, you lost control, shuddering as your release consumed you. You squirted on your priest and the altar, gasping for breath.

“You’re so sexy,” Charlie groaned, his pace becoming frantic. “So hard to resist, but you’re mine now. Beg for my cum.”

“Please,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “Please, daddy, I need it.”

“That’s right,” he growled. “You’re going to take it—all of it. I’ll fill you up until you’re mine completely.”

You let out a breathless laugh, glancing back at him with defiance. “Surely this baby will be the Antichrist,” you quipped, your smirk daring him to lose himself further.

Charlie slammed into you one final time, his grip tightening as he groaned loudly, his release marking the culmination of your forbidden encounter.

The two of you collapsed against the altar, tangled together and panting heavily. For a moment, the only sound in the church was your labored breathing.

“Look at us,” you murmured with a smirk, tracing a finger along his chest. “A priest and his sinner, tangled up on the altar. What would your God say?”

Charlie closed his eyes, his expression torn between satisfaction and shame. “Don’t speak,” he said hoarsely, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

But you only smiled, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted him.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: dbf!joel video calls you during a meal with your parents.

warnings: 18+ mdni. toxic dbf!joel miller x afab!reader. unspecified age gap. daddy kink. tit play. dirty talk. male masturbation. no beta. w.c: 641

author's note: spawned from the "who's your daddy?" clip and @mrsmando mentioning toxic dbf!joel. 😘

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Doin' the right thing pickin' up," Joel praises with a velvety tone as he moves his phone to rest in front of his chest.

The video screen displays his tan, aging face, slicked-back gray hair, and trimmed silver whiskers. He's reclined in a chair wearing a white t-shirt under a gray flannel button-up like he just got home from a job. "Be a good girl 'n show me those pretty tits."

Your eyes bug at his command. Thank god you stepped out onto the deck and shut the slider.

"Joel, not now. Please." You'd been eating dinner with your parents, and now you're on a video call with your dad's best friend, who's asking to see your tits.  

Not that he hasn't already seen them and every other inch of you.

"C'mon now, show me wha's mine," he pesters with a clipped, unwavering command.

You nervously peer through the glass slider and into the kitchen, praying your parents don't come outside before lifting your top and showing the older man your bare breasts.

"Thatta girl." A deep, tinny groan spills from the tiny speakers and nestles in your lower belly. Your cunt throbs at the sound. Sticky arousal leaks into the gusset of your panties as you squeeze your breasts together between your arms, propping them up for him.

"Jus' what I needed," he praises with ravenous eyes locked on the lower part of the screen, shamelessly drinking in the image of your naked chest. "Wanna get my hands on those fuckin' pretty tits. Suck 'n bite 'em until you're cryin'."

A chilly gust blows through the trees and races up your spine, making your skin prickle under Joel's heated stare. He darkly hums as your nips pucker and stands at attention for him. "Looks like someone likes bein' a slut."

Your chest heaves, breasts lightly bouncing as an intense wave of lust sends shocks rippling through your system. His body shifts, and you hear the click of his belt before his left, flannel-clad arm begins moving up and down out of frame. A gravelly moan pours from his pouty lips and drips through the speakers straight into your quivering cunt.

"Go on, give 'em a pinch."

You acquiesce, giving into his demand and your own greedy perversion, and palm one of your breasts. Your flesh prickles as you playfully circle a pert bud and lightly pinch it, letting a soft mewl tumble into the night.

"Who's your Daddy?" He asks with a throaty groan; the muscles in his neck pulse under his freckled, tan skin as he jerks his cock.

Your cheeks flame at his words, and you can't help but pathetically whimper.

"C'mon, say it, or else I'm comin' over," he states, cocking his head with a deadly smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. "'N we both know it'd kill him to see what a lil' whore his daughter turned into."

A gasp tears from your parted lips. He wouldn't-

"Best do as you're told, pretty girl. Don' wanna disappoint me now, do ya?"

Your eyes flutter, and you nervously lick your bottom lip, making it shine under the deck light.

"Daddy."

Syrupy slick flows freely from your cunt, drenching your panties as you softly chant the word "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy" over and over to the older man. Your cunt pulses in time with his movements, wishing he was fucking his cock into you instead of his fist.

He jerks his length greedily, faster and faster, until his neck flushes like a golden sunset, his eyes pinch tight, and he comes with a hoarse growl between gritted teeth.

Ropes of white land on his heaving chest, staining his button-up. The sight makes you lightheaded, and you fall back against the side of the house, breathless.

"Next time, I'm leavin' my mark on 'em," he gruffly declares before abruptly ending the call, leaving you to stare at your pathetic, wanton reflection in the murky black screen.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[alnilaem]

so true @altissiia. neighbour/butcher simon is but a matted cat that would charitably leave mice at your door if that wasn’t so off-putting

-

It’s eight in the morning, and there’s coffee all over your work blouse. Burning through the canopy of your shirt, sticking your skin. 

You had loudly cursed as your foot got caught behind an innominate object, propelling you face first—and coffee first—into the corridor. Surely, the whole flat heard it. The tight yelp you released, the thunder of your nose colliding with the floor. 

You don’t care about the coffee blotches congealing in the hallway. The carpet has enough cryptic stains, ones that management isn’t bothered to fix, so you look away and throw a cursory glance over your shoulder—to see the cause of your fall—and grimace without conscious control.

It’s a bag of meat on your doormat. 

Wrapped in a plastic, sitting in a puddle of fresh blood. 

A few drops of dew glaze the bag by means of moisture. It hides its contents, hindering you from recognising anything inside. You poke it with your shoe, cringing at the cartilage and meat and marrow beneath the sole of your foot. It tumbles over in the clear film, revealing its gory underbelly and a sticky-note. 

The note is dog-eared, crumpled, and damp. Covered in writing written by a slap-happy hand. Sorry for being too loud last night with my mates. Guess I’m a hypocrite. Here’s some meat please accept, is what it reads. The tail-end features a poorly-drawn smiley face and a signature. Simon.  

He was being noisy last night. You were just too skittish to slap the drywall dividing you, or to knock on his door and ask him to keep it down. There was an overlap of voices, an undercurrent of accents, and the charm of beer cans persistently snapped open.

As you peel the note off the bag, the door beside you swings open. Simon stumbles out, sweatpants low on his hips, medical mask obscuring the lower shell of his face. By the looks of it, he just floundered out of the shower. His curls are still dripping with opalescent water drops. He’s shirtless, his chest hairs so blonde they’re almost glass-like. Tousled and wispy.

A few scars distort the skin of his ribcage and makes you wince. He’s breathing heavily, distending them, puffing out his chest.

“You alright?” He asks. “Heard you fall.” 

You realise you’re still on the floor. Simon looks cosmic from this angle—colossal—hauling with him disciplined muscles eclipsed by a soft belly. 

You meekly nod, rising to your feet. “‘m fine.”

Simon’s eyes flutter down to your chest. A hot-flash pools under your skin, sticky, messy, leaving you preening under his gaze, until, of course, you belatedly remember your spilled coffee. How your shirt sticks to your skin, revealing the barest hint of your breasts. You don’t cross your arms.

“You’ve something there,” Simon sniffs. He gestures to your chest.

“Um, yeah. I know.”

A whisper of discomfort marinates between you. Discomfort that Simon doesn’t seem to notice—or doesn’t seem to care about—as he keeps staring at you. 

He grunts. “I got you meat.”

“Thank you!” You chuckle. “It was a… sweet gift.” 

It takes you by surprise when Simon tucks his chin into his chest, grumbling. His crows feet crimp together like knife-edges as if he’s barely smiling. 

“Wait here,” he mumbles, then spins on his heel. You assume he’s going to put on some clothes, or bring you some more meat, but when Simon returns, he outstretches towards you a threadbare jersey, waiting expectantly.

“Stained your blouse,” he snorts. “Wear this.”

Owlishly, you blink. It’s your work blouse that’s stained. You can’t go in a Manchester United shirt.

“Um. I wouldn’t–”

Simon shoves it in your chest. At this point, he reminds you of a wet dog. Dripping wet, gratified of his gift-giving. Leaving raw meat that stinks of ammonia at your doorstep, handing you a shirt too-many-sizes too big for you. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging.

His hand is still extended. Above his mask, Simon’s eyebrows pucker as if he’s pouting. Like a kicked mutt, confused, and a little ratty. You feel awkward indebtedness eddying through you, so you snatch the jersey from him and slip it on jointly. It smells heavily of nicotine and pomade, slightly impairing you.

Satisfied, he nods. You think he’s going to say something else—there’s a little stifle between the flicker of his eyes and his jaw—but he doesn’t. Simon turns around and slams his door shut in your face. 

[lolapiastri]

happy new year | l. norris

warnings: smut, whole lotta smut, everyone gets head, dirty talk, lando won't shut the fuck up, spitting lol, praise, don’t really know what’s going on half the time

authors note: found this in my drafts from december please enjoy x

31st december 2022, monaco - 11:54pm

“come on mate, get another drink down you,” max fewtrell handed his best friend a jagerbomb, his spare hand resting on landos shoulder, his drunken self unable to stand properly.

lando smiled slightly, before taking the drink and shotting it in one. it had been a few days since him and his girlfriend broke up, and he wasn’t anywhere near over her yet. he didn’t know if he ever would be, judging by how he felt right now. he wanted to be at home, bottle of some 40% spirit in hand and trying to forget.

max wouldn’t let that happen though, forcing him out tonight so he finally left the confinement of his apartment, hoping that the party scene would alleviate some of the stress on landos shoulder.

“come on, there’s so many fit girls here, take your pick,” he slurred, before being pulled away by his girlfriend for the traditional new years kiss.

lando hadn’t realised it was almost midnight, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the reminder that last year he was doing this with his ex. he grabbed another drink from the bar and got it down him quickly, planning on sitting at the bar while everyone around him spend the next few minutes with their loved ones.

until he saw you.

his eyes were glued to you the moment he saw you, stuck on how the short red dress you were wearing clung to your curves, stuck on how your hair tumbled over your bare shoulders, stuck on how the sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the neon lights or the club and lit up your whole face.

you made eye contact was you turned towards the bar, and obviously he caught your fancy, with a black button up that pronounced his muscles more than usual, a chain around his neck, and his hair in defined dark curls that contrasted his tanned skin. he looked almost like an angel descended from the heavens, except an angel would never have such a sorrowed look upon their face.

he beckoned you over with a flick of his fingers, eyes never leaving your body, and you may have been upset if you weren’t as gone as you were. you settled yourself in between his legs, taking the half drank glass from his hand and finishing it off for him, leaving a faint red mark on the rim.

he was infatuated at first glance. his hands settled in the dip of your waist, almost engulfing your body with their size. his mouth slowly curved into a smirk as he watched you lean over him to place the now empty glass on the bar, allowing him a small look at your lace bra you were wearing under your dress.

he checked the time on the clock. 11:57.

“what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, thumbs drawing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress.

you told him your name, before then asking for his, and his eyes widened with the realisation that you didn’t know who he was, or you were too drunk to realise.

“lando,” he smiled softly, voice deep and husky.

11:58.

“you here with anyone?” he asked, eyes dropping down to your red-stained lips before meeting your eyes again, the actions so quick you could barely recognise it happening.

you shook your head. “well, my friend, but she’s here with her boyfriend so…”

“i’m in the same boat,” he chuckled softly, subconsciously pulling you closer and closer towards him, so your thighs were brushing against his, “my mate max is here but he’s ran off with his girlfriend now.”

“god i hate people in couples,” you laughed, receiving one in return from lando, “they act all in love with no regard for those of us who are single.”

11:59.

“tell me about it,” lando rolled his eyes, his hand slowly climbing up your body so they were now resting against your rib cage.

you looped your arms around him, hands settling in the nape of his neck, a finger wrapping around a loose curl in his hair. he stood up now, looking down on you, and leant down so your faces were mere centimetres apart.

“you know it’s almost midnight,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin.

you hummed in response, feeling your heart beat doubly as fast against your ribs, the air suddenly feeling so much warmer.

“and i don’t have anyone to kiss.” as the final word left his mouth his lips attached to your neck, soft under ear, leaving a sloppy kiss that made you want more, want so much more.

“i don’t have anyone either,” you almost whispered, scared you had the wrong impression, but of course you didn’t.

chants of people in the background took you out of your little bubble, as the familiar ‘ten, nine, eight,’ sounded through the club.

lando leant right in, so your lips were practically touching already. “can i kiss you?”

you nodded just as the clock struck midnight, and his lips crashed into yours, with a sense of lust that you hadn’t felt in far too long.

the kiss was wet, it was sloppy, but it was desperate and needy and it sent a shiver through your body down to your core. your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling against his roots and causing him to groan into the kiss, allowing him to stick his tongue in and control the kiss.

your tongues moved in harmony as his hands ran down the lengths of your body, as if he was scared this would be the last time he could touch you, the last time he could feel you under his fingertips. they eventually settled against your ass, cupping it lightly as he pushed your hips against his, so you could feel his semi through his jeans.

you wanted to kiss him forever, wanted all of him all at once. you decided that if the world ended now, you would be happy to die here and now, in landos embrace, his lips pressed against yours.

he pulled away, but only for his lips to find your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses until he found that sweet spot, the spot that made your neck roll back, giving him more access to suck against your skin, undoubtably leaving deep purple marks wherever he went.

your hands detached themselves from his hair and instead you dragged them down his body, fingers spaced out as you passed his pecs, passed his abs (though you were very tempted to linger there), and finished at the waistband of his jeans, dipping an index finger inside to trace the elastic of his boxers.

you felt him groan against your skin, pulling away to give you a look as if to say ‘really? in public?’. deciding to play it innocent, you just beat your eyelashes at him, a confused look on your face, and slowly ventured lower and lower.

lando wasn’t having any of that, however, grabbing your wrists easily in one hand and dragging you over to the door, pulling his phone out to call a taxi. you tried to kiss him again, but he just tutted, with a dangerous glint in his eye that told you you were in for it when you got back to his.

the taxi arrived sooner rather than later, and lando made an effort to sit in the front, leaving you in the back alone. you were confused, wondering where the sudden coldness had come from, wondering if you had pushed it too far. but when he turned around midway through the journey, and mouthed ‘behave now, and i’ll be nice later’, you knew it was going to be a fun night.

you quickly sent your friend a text to let her know you were okay, not that she would read it for another few hours, before deliberating whether or not to behave. on the one hand, behaving means that you wouldn’t piss lando off and that he’ll ‘be nice’ later, whatever that meant. but one the other hand, you kind of wanted to push his buttons, see what you could get him to do. which is why you decided to call your friend and stir up some trouble.

“hey bitch!” you practically sang into the phone, the drunkenness being more apparent than ever. you could see lando in the rear view mirror, and watched as his face seemed confused, but not upset.

“hey!” she slurred back, as drunk as you were, “where the fuck are you?”

“i’m with this guy,” you smirked to yourself as you started your plan, “but i can’t lie, he just doesn’t seem all that you know. like he seems like he’s all talk and he won’t deliver.”

lando raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn’t say or do anything, thought you could tell he was definitely listening in now.

“then why are you going with him?” your friend asked, and you could faintly here the music of the club in the background.

you hummed into the phone, but loud enough for lando to hear as well. “don’t know, maybe i just feel bad for him. he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to fuck, you get what i’m saying?”

lando’s fist clenched at that comment, but he still kept his cool, at least from the outside.

“like, i don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to make me cum.”

that particular comment must have hit a nerve because lando leant back and grabbed the phone from your hand. you pouted and lazily attempted to grab it back, but really you were glad you were able to rile him up.

he quickly spoke to your friend, telling her you were okay and where you were going, before hanging up and ignoring your pleas for your phone.

it was only a few more minutes before you were back at lando’s flat, and he still ignored you while he paid the driver and guided you up the stairs, other than a link through your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. you liked the fact that he was still a gentleman, even though it seemed like he was about to not be.

“lando-” you whined as you waited outside his apartment, watching him unlock the door, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“what did i tell you?” he asked, voice still and stern, not facing you at all.

you tried to grab his wrist to get him to face you but he resisted. “to behave.”

“and you didn’t behave, did you?” his voice was almost patronising, but it was deep and rough and so fucking sexy that you didn’t care. “so now, i have to show you that what you were saying to your friend isn’t true. unless you’re going to apologise and tell me you didn’t mean it?”

he was giving you a chance to back down, to take the easy route. but it was new year’s day and you were never going to see him again, so you decided to have some fun.

“i don’t know what to tell you, you just don’t seem like you could make a girl cum,” you played it like you didn’t care, when your heart was racing knowing that something good was coming next.

he finally opened the door to his apartment and picked you up, your legs naturally looping around his waist as he pulled you into a rough kiss. it wasn’t like the one earlier, where even though it was rough there was a sweetness behind it, but instead this was pure lust and need in a kiss. his tongue explored every part of your mouth, at a ferocity that you felt like you were on fire, and that no bucket of water could ever pull you out.

his hands settled under your ass, kneading the skin under the silk of your dress. your hands found his shoulders, broad and wide, and you needed them stabilise as your world was spinning around you.

he carried you through his apartment, with you getting a brief look before he threw you onto his bed, leaving you looking up at him with rosy cheeks and lust-hazed eyes.

in the light he looked majestic, with two dimmed lamps either side of you projecting warm orange hues onto his face. fuck, he was gorgeous, chiseled by the gods themselves, and as he undid the buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, your mouth almost started to water at how beautiful he looked.

you pulled yourself up, going to try and finish undoing the buttons to take his top off, but he stopped you, once again capturing your wrists but this time pinning them behind your back.

“you don’t get to touch if you misbehave, baby,” he said, fake-pity written all across his face.

his other hand pulled your dress off your shoulders, and he let go of your hands for just a moment to remove it from the rest of your body. your heels were next, as he undid them slowly and carefully, taking his time to admire you, watching as your patience was running out.

left in just your lacy red lingerie, you watched as he climbed back over you, obvious hard on that he ignored as his lips met yours in another kiss. it wasn’t quite like the other one, slightly softer, as if he was checking that you were okay with all this. and of course you were.

he pulled away. “i can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” you teased back, tilting your head while trying to catch your breath.

“well, i guess you won’t be coming tonight then,” he almost sighed, before diving into the crook of your neck and leaving harsh, aggressive kisses wherever he could, adding to the deep purple marks he caused earlier on.

he slowly made his way down your neck, before finally making it to the valley of your breasts, where he sucked harder than before, obviously trying to deepen the colour and add to your pleasure. his hands found your breasts, taking one in each and kneading them, a soft massage that felt better than it ever should have done. was it the alcohol? or was it him?

he pulled your right boob out of your bra, eyes widening as his index finger and thumb took your nipple in between them and started to roll it gently. you arched your back in reponse, a weak moan falling from your lips, which pushed your breast into his fingers more. his other hand pulled out your other breast, but instead of his fingers his lips attached to it, and your mouth parted subconsciously as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

god, he was good. and he knew he was good judging by the smirk on his face. you almost regretted not letting him pleasure you how he was planning to.

almost.

“fuck, lando,” you let out a breathy whine as he swapped over, both of your nipples having an overwhelming sense of pleasure, “look so pretty sucking my tits.”

you could tell he liked that, as a vibration shook through your body when he moaned against your skin. he pulled away, much to your dismay, but you stopped minding as he slowly made his way down your body, still leaving the open mouthed kisses as he reached your belly button.

“you know,” he almost panted, hands still fixed on your tits, “i was gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

one hand leaves your nipple, a cool trail down your stomach before it settles at your waistband, mimicking your actions from in the club. your hips buck against his hand, causing him to chuckle slightly, as you crave more and more and more of his touch’s

“i was gonna make you come on my tongue, it would have felt so fucking good,” his sultry voice was working wonders as his fingertips traced the patterns in the lace, “would have had you screaming my name as i sucked your clit, would have felt fucking euphoric.”

even his words made you feel something, made you feel like any moment now you were about to combust. one finger trailed down your panties, feather light over where you needed him the most, but with the lace barrier in the way.

“god, you’ve ruined these, huh?” he chuckled, feeling how your wetness had soaked through your underwear. “so fucking wet and all i’ve touched are your tits. so responsive for me.”

you wanted to talk back, wanted to have some bite to you, spur him on even more, but you couldn’t conjure up anything while he left soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“still want my mouth, baby?” his voice was sickly sweet, but the tone behind it was cruel and teasing, because obviously you still wanted his mouth.

you nodded as best as you could, but he shook his head a response, a ‘tut tut tut’ leaving his mouth.

“need words, darling,” he almost sang, “or else you’re not getting anything from me.”

you mustered up every last drop of energy you had and spoke up. “please, lando. i want you.”

“want what?”

it took every fibre in your body to not tell him to fuck off there and then. you wanted to, you really wanted to, but you also wanted him. and that want won.

“want your mouth on me, please, lando.”

and that was enough for him, as he pulled down your lace panties and finally revealed your pussy to him.

“fuck me, darling,” his finger trailed over your folds, feather light, as he took in the sight of it, “you’re glistening, look, you’re dripping out.”

you would have felt embarrassed, but the dutch courage must have taken over. “not used to seeing a girl so wet, huh?”

his tongue poked his cheek. “easy, pretty girl. let me make you feel good.”

he gently blew over you, making you squirm slightly, before he dived straight in and began sucking your clit. the pleasure was instant, your hips bucking into his face as he chuckled against you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. everything he had made you feel up to this point was microscopic compared to the pleasure you felt now.

it only grew when he slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up at hitting that spot inside of you, looking over as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth hung open, he thought you looked like the prettiest girl in the world.

you were already close, no idea how as you hadn’t been going for that long. but the mix of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit was bringing you to the edge.

“i- i’m close, lando,” you stuttered, speaking hard when so much pleasure was coarsing through your veins.

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re close did you say?”

you nodded, feeling your orgasm approaching faster and faster, you could already feel it happening now. to add to everything, his fingers somehow reached deeper inside of you, contorting in a way where everything was just so fucking good.

“i wait,” he let out a soft, fake laugh, “i forgot. i can’t make you cum.”

and with that he pulled away, leaving you recovering from a high you never even got. you had to take a minute, your body feeling worse than ever as the euphoria slowly went away, and the lack of human touch was getting to you.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he faked pity, reaching down to swipe his thumb across your cheekbone. “you weren’t expecting to finish, not according to what you said in the car.”

you slowly opened your eyes, seeing his gorgeous face looking down on you, and fighting the urge to throw a punch. you subconsciously leaned into his touch, craving it despite the atrocity he just performed, and watched as he undid his belt with his other hand.

“here’s the deal,” he pulled away, leaving you with a whine, before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it all off, allowing you to see his abs for the first time that night. “you’re gonna suck me off, and if you do a good job, then, and only then, do you get to cum. understand, darling?”

you nodded. secretly, you wanted to suck him off anyway, and with this deal you would get to come as well. he took a step back from the bed, tapping his foot against the floor as a gesture for you to come down. you couldn’t understand though, brain slightly fucked from the shortly lived pleasure, and instead looked at him confusedly.

“get on your knees for me, baby,” he cooed, and you did as he said, sinking onto his wooden floor and looking up at him, waiting for his next order. with the promise of an orgasm at the other end, at this point you would do anything to get to the prize.

he started to unzip his jeans, and as you went to help, he instantly took a step back. “hands behind your back, no touching remember?”

you poured, but did as he said, linking for fingers behind your back as you waited for him to get ready. he pulled his boxers down, and jesus christ were you not ready.

he looked big through his hard on in his jeans, but you were not ready for all that. you could tell you were shocking your shock through your face, and he let out a soft chuckle and grabbed your chin with his right hand.

“think you can take it?” he asked, holding it with his other hand as he kept your eyes on it, watching as your mouth suddenly seemed to water.

you nodded. “mhm. just wanna make you feel good, baby. that’s all i want.”

he smiled down at you. “give me a kiss.”

you tried to climb up to kiss his lips, but his hand kept you pressed down, and you understood instantly. you leant forward to press your mouth against his dick, kissing the tip gently and watching as his head fell back. you left open mouthed kisses all down his length, finished at the base before climbing all the way back to the top. you started leaving kitten licks on the tip, watching the veins in his neck pulsate at your actions.

“god, you’re so fucking good,” he grunted, hand moving from your chin round to the back of your head, nestling in your hair as he started to take control. “you gonna take me all in?”

you hummed against his cock, opening your mouth as he guided you down, controlling your movements as he gently fucked your mouth. you tried your hardest not to move or choke, instead trying to focus on his pleasure.

you couldn’t help your eyes watering though, and when he looked down he obviously felt bad, relaxing a little bit as he let you take more charge.

“look so pretty naked on your knees for me,” he cooed, taking in sharp breaths as your tongue swirled around his tip. “who knew that such a sweet looking girl could give head like this? yeah, keep going, fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

you just kept going, knowing that the more you pleasured him the more likely you were to get pleasure yourself. lando didn’t want to seem selfish, however, as his hand wrapped forward to stroke your cheek again.

“fuck, play with your nipples for me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath, but moaning as you started to play with yourself. he let out a groan as you moaned around his cock, head bobbing like this was your last day on earth. “such pretty tits, should be framed in a museum how good you look right now.”

you could tell he was close by how his breaths got shallower and shallower, and his thrusts into your throat got weaker. he pulled away though, leaving a string of saliva from your mouth to his cock, which you licked up instantly. you went back to kissing his cock, waiting as you squeezed your nipples even harder.

“you were so good, huh, baby?” he picked your naked body up, grabbing your hands and wrapping them round his neck, telling you that you could finally touch him again. “listened to everything i told you to do, such a good girl.”

his praise was music to your ears, and his actions matched the tone of his words. he lay you gently down on the bed, climbing over you as his lips met yours in the softest kiss of the night. it was an ‘are you okay?’ kiss, an ‘i hope i didn’t go too far’ kiss, a ‘you look beautiful’ kiss, and it was possibly your favourite of the night.

“gonna fuck that dripping pussy,” he mumbled into your lips before continuing the kiss, lining his cock up against your entrance, tapping it against your clit purely to watch you squirm with elation.

and as he thrusted into you it was like your world had stopped. fuck, he felt so good inside you, filling you up more than you could have imagined and left you choking on air as inch by inch he entered more and more.

lando felt much the same, obsessed with how you felt clenched around him, how tight you were as he continued in. he waited once his whole dick was in, holding back from setting a rhythm until he was positive you could take it.

“feel so good clenched around me,” he muttered out, leaning back so he could check you were alright, check that you were ready for this, “such a tight little pussy needs to be stretched out.”

you nodded at him, a signal to start moving, and he did as he was told, beginning to thrust in and out of you at such a pace that your mouth flew open in shock. his hands dug into your hips, undoubtably causing marks as he fucked you deep and hard.

the moans emitted from your mouth were ungodly, borderline pornographic, and led to you covering your mouth in embarrassment. lando was having none of that, however, stopping his movements to gaze into your eyes.

“don’t you dare not let me hear those pretty sounds,” he thrust at the end of the sentence, as if to solidify his point, and you allowed yourself to moan, “want all the neighbours to hear how good i’m fucking you.”

you were so close to the edge, once again seeing it in the distance, and you clenched around lando trying to let him know. he chuckled and leant into your shoulder, kissing over the deep marks he’d left earlier, just adding to the euphoria you were feeling.

“gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your clit, needing that final push to make it over the edge.

he understood instantly, rubbing rough circles while sucking against your neck. the pleasure was washing over you in waves, and it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you feeling lighter and in a state of happiness you couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

lando kept going, however, chasing his own orgasm, and you decided to help him get thrre, however harsh it was for you. your lips found his neck for the first time, leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbones that were followed by a row of dark purple and red.

“fuck me,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer and closer to the edge. “gonna pull out, yeah?”

you nodded against his chest, nails tracing over his abs as you rocked your hips in tandem with him, so sensitive that you might even come again.

as he kept thrusting into you, you remembered how much he loved being praised earlier, and thought that might help get him over the edge.

“being so good, fucking me so well lando,” you sighed, whispering into his ear as you kissed up his neck.

you felt his thrusts stutter with your words, obviously having a positive impact as a blush rose to his cheeks. his hands gripped even harder around your hips, and you began to feel another orgasm coming.

“such a pretty boy, so so pretty, look so good and fuck me so good,” you kept going, your hands leaving him and instead finding your clit. “got the prettiest dick as well, feels so good all wrapped inside me.”

“fuck-” he choked out, before pulling out and finishing all over his chest.

he panted while you got yourself to finish, cumming over your fingers. you threw your head back against the pillow, watching your chest as it rose and fell, trying to catch your breath.

lando joined you, lying across the bed while pulling himself together. you decided you weren’t finished, however, crawling over on top of him and licking his cum off of his abs, making sure to get every last drop off. his hands tangled themselves as you finished, pulling you up to him so he could kiss you again, making out like teenagers as you just enjoyed each others company.

“so,” lando finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the kiss, “i did make you cum.”

you shrugged as you rolled back to the side of him. “was it more fun that i challenged you?”

“definitely. never known someone so responsive to some dirty talk,” he jested, earning a slap on his bicep.

“never known someone love to be praised so much,” you retaliated, shutting him up as he went to grab you a glass of water.

he returned quickly, along with some boxers for him and a baggy t-shirt for you. you noticed the t-shirt it had ‘mclaren’ across it, and you hummed for his attention as you threw it on.

“you like cars then?” you asked, not expecting him to laugh in reponse.

“yeah, you could say that.”

you tilted your head in confusion, but decided you were too tired to understand whatever was going on. “you don’t mind me staying the night?”

“not at all.”

“you gonna tell me why that was so funny in the morning?” you asked, knowing it would be your last question before you drifted off to sleep.

he hummed. “of course. happy new year.”

“happy new year.”

[felibrary]

wish you were sober

synopsis: in which you drunkenly confess to aventurine and he doesn’t believe you, rather believing that he’s not worthy, less even deserving of your love. despite that, his insecurity, you're under the belief that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. love - something that you want to introduce to him and show him “what it means to love you.”

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 2.3k (i’ve gone insane) | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, alcohol; they're both drunk, insecure aventurine, unestablished relationship, they label themself as friends but reader barely knows anything abt him LMFAO, dual pov, DO YALL GET THE REFERENCE IN THE SYNOPSIS LMFAO??, rushed ending icl, half assed-ly proofread; oneshot

a/n: yesterday i listened to wish you were sober by conan gray and was like “damn.. this’d fit sunday” but then i asked azul what he thinks cause i couldn’t decide between su**day and <aventurine3. and they replied with that it’d be so much more angsty with aventurine (okay not quote on quote but you get the msg) and i dislike su**ay anyway!! so boom! (y’all are still getting another sunday fic..yay..ig.....)

tags: beloved @azullumi <3 and @cherieiu (stop punching me)

“i love you.” 

your confession doesn't come over as surprising for aventurine, he anticipated it. just like how the ebb awaits the flood, yearning for it but disappearing as soon as it arrives. missing out on each other for just a split second, as the other party sweeps and slips away from the grasp of the other. nevertheless aventurine is glued to his seat on the rich sofa. 

colorful poker chips are splattered around the rich mahogany floor tiles, bottles of vodka and wine, some already with their cork removed and empty, others who haven't even been opened yet. a chandelier adorning the ceiling of the big room, its lightbulbs glowing dimly in the caliginous room, illuminating it.

one of the lamps flickers while the others continue to shine brightly - too brightly aventurine thinks, if he were to watch them any longer he’d feel like melting. the closer he got to you the sun, the deeper he'd fall into the bottomless pit he managed to crawl out of.

the room reeks of alcohol. is the temperature rising? he feels like every time the last number on the digital clock changes the warmer it gets. his blond bangs stick to his forehead and beads of sweat are running down his flushed cheeks - that answers his question.

it’s hot - humid even. he's not sure if he's able to bear the heat in this narrow atmosphere any longer. he tries to blow the sweat away by waving at his face with his hand, trying to cool off his face - a futile attempt. god, what's this a/c even good for, if it can't do it's damn job.

he opens his mouth with the intent of wanting to say that you're lying, that you shouldn't say stuff like that when you're drunk and that you'll regret later. but he doesn't, he refrains from doing so. instead he gulps down the words immediately, letter for letter. they're a bitter pillow to swallow. flowing down his throat like the wavering water running down a stream - intoxicating, similar to the alcoholic liquid you've downed.

the blond looks at you through half lidded eyes. you lift yourself off the ground, he takes notice that you have a hard time doing so, legs slightly trembling as you remove them from the floor tiles. (you've always been a lightweight he thinks)

as you make your way over to him, standing up and wanting to sit yourself next to him on the large black leather sofa. you clumsily bump against one of the almost empty shot glasses that still lies on the floor. tripping over the small glass as your foot comes in contact with it. the glass that still contained some of the red wine you've poured in, not too long ago, tumbles as easily as a domino tile, falling upon the smallest touch. making the flimsy piece immediately meet the ground.

it breaks into a few sharp shards and the remaining alcohol starts seeping out of it, staining your once white socks with crimson colored alcohol. “ah m’sorry!” you mumble as you quickly bend down to gingerly pick up the fragments, placing them in the palm of your hand carefully, so that they won't cut you and leave slits.

aventurine takes another peek at you as you tidy up. your face is flushed, your cheeks tinted in a bright red and you let out incoherent sorrys, blabbering incomplete phrases. he wants to tell you that it's alright. that he feels the same and reciprocates yours feelings, that you don't have to apologize and he'll help you.

but he freezes.

the words that he wants to tell you, the ones he's been longing to say don't leave his mouth. neither does he move. instead he coughs, continuing to watch you while you clean up. a tissue has found its way into your right hand, helping you soak up the alcohol. (its his hand that should be intertwined with yours, not the tissue)

his throat hurts. 

(he's not in the right mindspace to acknowledge if it's because of you - the unsaid words that he didn't reveal to you yet or because of the alcohol.) 

it's dry and lacks any kind of refreshing liquid that'd quench the drought that occurs in his throat. he contemplates, thinking about the choices he has. swallowing down his own spit isn't worth it, it makes his throat burn even more.

he comes to the decision to pour himself another glass of alcohol. (debatably his worst decision until now.)

twirling the almost translucent liquid in his glass, before fully gulping it down in one go. a bit of the alcohol escapes the depths of his mouth, running down his chin and messily staining his porcelain-like skin. 

he doesn't like the bitter taste, he can't seem to befriend himself with it. (neither can he befriend him with himself) although it's not the worst, he's just not able to find a reason to like it. after all, after a single sip it starts to sting as it enters his mouth.

the scent isn't great either, it smells strong, too strong for his liking, a scent that reeks of cleaning detergent and not to mention, it prickles on his tongue and burns as it slides down his throat when it makes its way into his blood. but there's one thing aventurine can't deny: it's efficiency.

it fulfills its purpose well making him lightheaded and dizzy, to the point of forgetting everything.

all sounds are drowned out. even the lame pop songs playlist you turned on because you insisted that “it'll set the right mood” is barely audible for him now. his ears hurt hellish, he wants to put his hands over his ears to escape the white noise. the sound that plays in his ears is similar to the one of when an airplane starts boarding - an unpleasant noise.

the only sound that remains for aventurine’s slightly drunk state is your voice. it echoes through his ears. your drunk confession playing over and over in his mind like a broken record, anticipating the day it'll be fixed, so the misery it is in ceases. 

his sloppy and sluggish movements - the way his hands tremble as he pours himself another glass, the nervousness that forms inside his body and the blush that spreads as quickly as a wildfire on his cheeks - they're tormenting him, and he blames none other than the alcohol for it. 

“a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, drunk words are sober thoughts, when you're drunk you reveal your true desires” his ass. the both of you are just friends. friends that are acquainted through work, nothing more, nothing less. aventurine couldn't bear to lose his only friend, after all he's already lost everything.

(anything he'd never want to lose will eventually be lost. it is as if fate had decided that everything that is worth wanting, everything that he wants to have and keep, will be lost the moment he gets his fingers on it. to aventurine there’s nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life that is full of anguish.)

his father whom he never got to meet, his mother and sister whom he was forced to leave behind and kakavasha, his younger self. all will be lost - everything was lost. if he wasn't careful now, one slip up on the thin ice or feet accidentally trampling over the floor full of eggshells, he'd not only lose himself in the process, but you too. his one and only friend.

crossing this line he set for himself, as he drew it along the earthy ground with his calloused fingers, trembling as they traced over the mud.

walking past the border that was created to keep everything and everyone distant from him, as he stood on the other side turning his back from the world, walking away and waving, to bid his goodbye from them.

the wall he built around him to shield him from the world, protecting everyone from the ugly thing that was kept inside , protecting himself from the people that only want to torment him.

forgetting all of these things, leaving them behind for you would mean showing you who he really was. a frail human being that hides himself behind a mask. the theater curtains revealing the person who played the role of the man who had called himself aventurine for the past years. placing him in the spotlight and giving the audience a show they'll never forget, like the fool he is. 

aventurine doesn't think that he is loveable, that he's undeserving of love - your love.

you think that aventurine deserves all the love in the world. providing him with said love, embracing him and showing him how pure love can be. 

the blond caught your eye right away. he was charming, funny and handsome. aventurine turned into your little work crush, your motivation to convince yourself just to see him.

the road was rocky and full of obstacles, set up by none other than aventurine. it gave you a better perception of who he really was and it intrigued you even more. why does he hide himself away from the world? why does he convince himself to not get anyone close to him even though he longs for the touch of another person? who is aventurine, really?

you can't answer any of these questions and neither are you certain if aventurine really can but that doesn't stop you. you continue to climb up all the way to know who he is, who the person you fell in love with really is. 

love, is weird isn't it? it comes in all different shapes and forms.

if someone were to ask you why you like him, you wouldn't know how to answer, because neither do you know.

but nevertheless you still like him. why? how come you like someone that you don't even know, someone that is foreign to you, almost like a stranger. even though the both of you label yourself as “friends.”

you're not sure what the color is that infuses his irises, he keeps them hidden beneath his glasses. despite that, you long to stare into his eyes and let all the plain and dull parts of your life get painted in the same colors of his hues. a color that brings you comfort and cures your sorrow. it's the hues that you want to stare at as you tuck a golden strand of hair behind his ear, in return he grants you a small but genuine smile.

a smile that you want to see more often, one that you want to keep for yourself. 

as for his scent, every person has their own unique and special scent. you plead to the gods above that he’ll let you bury your head into the crook of his neck and absorb his smell so it becomes the only scent that lingers around your nose. 

there are so many more things that you want to know about him but you're unaware of. one might say that you're odd for liking - no, loving someone that you barely know.

a stranger, a foreign person whom you know little about to almost nothing about, is the person that you love. absurd isn't it? but love is weird, love can be pure and ridiculous, but it can also be painful and heart wrenching. love is a feeling that not only brings joy to oneself but also causes pain. but it's a feeling that you never want to get rid of - not until you introduced aventurine to it. showing him what love has to offer and has in store.

in the iridescent light aventurine remains to look as ethereal as ever. a scent of vodka lingers around aventurines figure, the smell is strong, but you couldn't care less. his hair is disheveled but nevertheless continues to shine in the dazzling light. he lets out a tiring yawn and you couldn't imagine aventurine any more beautiful than in this moment.

vulnerable and for your eyes only. making it unable for you to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. 

he's like a shooting star, if you don't continue to watch and follow it and blink, even if it's just for a single moment - it's all over and you'll never see it again. 

“stop looking at me like that.” aventurine mumbles quietly, almost whispering. upon hearing that, you make your way over to him, glass shards long forgotten as you place them on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

your arms reach out to aventurine, clutching your hands on his shoulders. your grip is sluggish but you don't falter and continue to hold him. “like what?” your lips are slightly parted and your gaze is drowsy as you counter aventurine's question with a question of your own.

“like that.” he placed the hand that just rested on his thigh, on your cheek, slightly caressing it. “you're just gonna hurt the both of us if you keep this up any longer.” he's not sure where the boldness came from, he blames it on the alcohol once again; it finally seemed to kick in.  

“‘m not lying” you hiccup. tomorrow i’ll tell you how much i love you, no matter if it's once” a cough exits your throat “or a hundred times.” the words that leave your mouth are slurred, they're incoherent and muddled up. your grip on his shoulder weakens, hands slipping off and head falling against his chest.

..did you seriously just black out?

aventurine can only sigh at that. a small smile finds its way onto his face. he snakes his arms around you waist, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck and hugging you with the remaining power he had left before falling asleep. guess there'll be a lot to unpack tomorrow but for now he allows himself to indulge in this shared moment between the two of you. 

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: hope yall enjoyed this as much as i hated writing this!! (i wanted to throw up) i acc hate how i wrote this. it's not as choppy as when i started writing it but it still feels so rushed and so idk.. anyway reblogs with comments are very much appreciated! >< ALSO that one paragraph written in brackets..guess whose speech it was inspired byyyyy (hint: bsd!!)

[dreamlandcreations]

OPLA men - I licked it so it's mine

Shanks / Mihawk / Zoro / Sanji x Reader

this is @justnerdystuffs' fault idea with a little twist here and there and it has been sitting in my drafts for ages 🫣

Warnings: implied mutual pining, idiots (all of them), fluff, kissing, implied relationship afterwards and other stuff , height difference, not proofread (I just wanted to finish something finally 😭🤧)

• Shanks masterlist • Main Masterlist • Moodboards masterlist •

It's been weeks since you have had a decent meal.

After such a long time, you finally landed on an island with a nice-looking bar where the rest of the crew could celebrate whatever excuse they could come up with for drinking and partying. You couldn't care less at the moment.

You had half the menu ordered, knowing full well some of the guys would join in on the feast whether you invited them or not. And that was fine, really, until they tried to take a bite of your steak. Roux was indeed lucky not to lose a hand.

However, your dearest captain had no such self-preservation instincts. You were on very good terms with the man, Shanks was easy to get along with, but he could be such a child sometimes.

He was sitting right next to you and he moved in the moment you turned your head in the other direction to look at some stunt Yasopp was trying to pull. You turned back just in time at the sound of the fork being stabbed into meat.

You moved fast, but not fast enough. The red-haired manchild took the last piece of your steak and quickly licked it from bottom to top, grinning at you with sauce staining his cheek right from under his scars all the way to his chin.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I licked it so it's mine."

From the other side of the table Ben was watching the scene in morbid fascination, ready to save his captain from certain death once again and he didn't like the sinister grin slowly pulling at your lips.

"Hmm," you leaned closer as Shanks put down the food on his plate, reaching for a napkin to wipe his face before you grabbed his hand, yanked him closer, gripping his chin in your other hand, you slowly licked the sauce off the side of his face before you pulled away and smirked at him as you claimed, "I guess that means you are mine now."

The room turned silent, all eyes on you two, as Shanks regarded you with a strange expression, and Ben stood still right where he jumped up when you launched for the captain, while you just stared at the man before you with slowly widening eyes as you just realised what you have done.

Before you could pull further away, Shanks quickly lifted you from your chair, making it tumble back as he pulled you into his lap with his smile quickly returning but with a new warmth to it, and you already knew you were in trouble before you heard what he had to say.

"Yours, huh?" he asked, cupping your cheek gently as he leaned in impossibly close, playfully nudging your nose with his and whispered, "I think I like the sound of that."

Steak forgotten, the crew's cheering ignored, you kissed the grinning idiot and you could't help but smile into the kiss too.

Ben in the background collapsed back into his chair, grabbed a large bottle of rum, and took a big gulp, already dreading what these two will put him through together.

You didn't know how Shanks convinced the swordsman to stay for the celebration but you were having fun watching your captain get on his nerves and when you saw the opportunity to join in that fun, you just had to do it.

There was no shortage of alcohol but Dracule Mihawk has a certain taste and you knew he would go for the good stuff, so you acted as soon as he got up from his seat from next to Shanks.

You took your time to pour out the remaining wine from the last, almost empty bottle and waited until the warlord got close enough that you could tease him without too many witnesses.

He towered over you somewhat menacingly, slightly raising his eyebrows expectantly as his gaze travelled down to the glass in your hand and back to your face in a meaningful motion. You were not intimidated in the slightest though.

On the contrary, you faked innocence as you mimicked his gesture before locking your gaze with his and letting your lips pull up into a little smirk then you lifted the glass and slowly dragged your tongue around the edge of it.

"I licked it so it's mine." you stated cheerfully and shrugged at his almost unperceivable widened eyes that betrayed his surprise or anger. Definitely disbelief, you decided.

Following a tense silence, a rare smile graced his lips, and you stopped breathing for a moment as he leaned in closer. 

"Is that right?" he murmured. His usually bored tone a mix between amusement, mocking and challenge.

Mihawk didn’t wait for your response but took a hold of your chin and smashed his lips against yours just as you gasped, and he took the opportunity to immediately deepen the kiss and lick into your mouth, letting you taste the wine he has been drinking throughout the night and you had no opportunity to sample because you dropped the glass as soon as his lips touched yours.

He didn't seem bothered by the pricey drink going to waste or you knocking down his hat as you desperately reached out and hang onto him by his nape while you tried to keep up with his maddening, passionate, slow, seductive kiss that made you feel like the room was spinning around you.

He pulled away just as abruptly as he started the kiss but he didn't let you go while he regarded you with a smug expression.

"I believe that makes you mine." When you failed to reply, he faked thinking about it for a second, then his smirk returned and he added, “Hmm. Perhaps I’ll have to be more thorough with my claiming.” before capturing your lips again and lifting you up into his arms to take you away somewhere private to make good on his promise.

Luffy claimed most of the food as you sat down, and he did it in the most disgusting but interesting way possible. He stretched his tongue out and licked over all the plates at his half of the table, grinning as he yelled excitedly, "I licked it! So it's mine!"

A moment of horror passed then everyone dug into (the safe part of) the feast. Everyone, except the green haired menace next to you.

Zoro collected both bottles of wine to himself opening them and storing them on his other side, even though he knew that was the only drink you'd find acceptable and it was pretty much all the same to him as long as it had alcohol in it.

He didn't react to you theatrically clearing your throat as you turned to him so you kicked his leg with a force that made him jump up a little.

He looked at you with surprise that quickly turned into annoyance then a wordless challenge. When the silent staredown didn't end with his win he sighed and reached for both bottles, and he extended one of them towards you but pulled back before you could grab it and went to lick over that bottle opening and then the other. Smiling at you in triumph as he said,

"Heard the captain. Rules are rules!"

Huffing at the audacity, you waited until he raised a bottle to his lips and hit the bottom, tipping it so he would spill the wine on himself.

He stood abruptly, making the chair almost fall over as you laughed.

The others' only reaction was a look in your way, they were used to your antics by now, they expected a fight as soon as you sat down beside the ex pirate hunter.

What no one, including you saw coming was your next move. Your eyes followed the droplets of wine dripping down Zoro's neck as he tried to dry his shirt with a napkin. It was all in vain, the fabric was soaked through.

You blinked a few times, trying to gather some sense into you, and obviously failing as you batted away his hands, produced a knife and slit his shirt open in a flash. Then, as you stood up you licked over his toned abdomen and chest, all the way up to his jaw before biting him teasingly there.

He blinked rapidly, taking in a staggering breath as he looked down at you, fixing his gaze on your now wine red lips. You licked them to savour the taste then you took the other bottle, sauntered over to the door and paused, looking back at Zoro with a challenging eyebrow raise before you left.

"Huh," was all he said before he followed you to your room.

You narrowed your eyes at Sanji, eyeing him with growing annoyance as he ate the rare bite-sized food that was gifted to you as the last creation of the chef who the cook obsessed over for the entire week. He moaned and swooned over the taste as you clenched your teeth together, trying to come up with an appropriate revenge.

Sanji looked at you with innocent eyes, smiling sweetly as he ased, "What?"

You looked down at the empty plate pointedly and then back at the thief just in time to see him shrug. "You know the rule, I licked it so it's mine."

Your body moved before you could think it through, grasping his chin with one hand, brushing away his hair from his face and grabbing him by the back of his head with your other hand as you quickly licked the side of his face and pushed him back a little as you stepped back. There, the gesture says.

Waiting for his disgusted reaction, you started to grin, satisfied with your little revenge for now, at least for a moment or so because he didn't react how you thought at all.

He seemed to be frozen in place except for his slowly widening eyes, then he gasped, giggled, and turned to you with a grin, exclaiming loudly that, "I'm yours now, no takebacks!"

You huffed at the ridiculous train of thought and turned to leave but he hugged you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, arms circling around your waist and you couldn't help but smile as you sighed dramatically but placed your hands on his, letting him pull you into an even tighter embrace that you would be trapped in for a while.

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[haechanniessgirl]

pretty when you cry *ੈ✩‧₊˚ y.jw

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

summary: you were always sensitive growing up, crying and weeping in your mother's arms over things in a way that few understood, until you met a boy, whose only true goal was to protect you, but failed in doing so as he got overwhelmed by his high school teenage years and left you behind

pairing ✧˚ · . yang jungwon x reader ( some enha members are mentioned )

genre ! established friendship, fluff and angst, arguments friends to lovers! word count: 3044

AUTHORS NOTE:: lowk hate this rip

italic text: flashbacks ( in case of confusion )

you cried a lot, as a child, often seen roaming around with tear stained cheeks, a soft red hue that circled your eyes, and a hefty pack of tissues stuffed away in your pocket. you never really understood why, but you just cried a lot. you were sensitive to the world in a way that few understood. you cried during happy moments, overwhelmed by joy, and during sad ones, consumed by empathy. kittens and flowers brought tears to your eyes, their beauty and fragility touching something deep within you for example.

your parents were often worried, constantly watching your every move, unsure why you seemed so fragile. they took you to doctors and counselors, searching for answers that never came. "she's just very sensitive," they would say, their concern evident. "there's nothing wrong with that."

but your sensitivity made it hard to make friends. other children found your tears annoying, not understanding why you cried so easily. birthday parties, school events, and even simple playdates often ended with you feeling isolated and misunderstood.

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you met jungwon on a bright summer day when you were both six years old. the playground was bustling with children, but you were content playing on your own, until a misstep on the jungle gym sent you tumbling to the ground, scraping your knee. ultimately tears welled up in your eyes, and you sat there frozen, feeling the sting of the cut and the embarrassment of falling. looking around you as you saw children eyeing you, your mother busy talking to another parent.

but a gentle hand tapped your shoulder, your mind reeling with emotions, until a soft voice called out for you "hi? can you hear me?", glancing up, a boy stood over you, expression concerned, but a warm smile appeared when you finally looked at him " are you okay? " he asked as he crouched down beside you, he looked about your age, he gently smiled at him despite the tears rolling freely down your face as you shook your head no. on cue, he pulled out the crumpled tissue that was peaking from your pocket and patted your scraped knee, shying away from your wandering eyes.

"you're pretty when you cry," he said timidly, as an attempt to cheer you up. you sniffled, managing a small laugh through your tears.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

from that moment, you and jungwon became inseparable. he had always appreciated your sensitive side, often finding it endearing. whenever you cried over a beautiful sunset, a touching movie scene, or even a kind gesture from a stranger, jungwon was there, standinf by your side, smiling softly and comforting you.

he promised himself that he'd never be the one to cause those tears, at least not the sad ones. he prided himself on being your protector, your steadfast rock in a world that often felt overwhelming.

" you know im not going anywhere right?" jungwon glanced over at you, giggling as he handed you a glass of water as you were preparing cup noodles together at your family home " you can hold me at gun point and i wont budge " , you rolled you eyes " yeah yeah i know, thank you" you replied as you gently grabbed the glass of water, taking a quick sip. " i promise i wont leave you either "

however, as you both grew older, you began to feel the weight of your sensitivity more acutely. you didn’t want to be seen as fragile or overly emotional. you yearned for a future where you felt confident in what you do, grow independent and become capable of handling your own emotions without relying on someone, that someone being jungwon. this, to you, meant distancing yourself from the past where you relied so heavily on jungwon’s comfort.

it wasn't that you didn’t need him; in fact, you needed him more than ever, constantly calling out for him in moments of distress whether he was present or not. but your need had transformed into something deeper, something more complex. you had simply fallen in love with jungwon, your best friend, and that love made you feel vulnerable. you were terrified of becoming a burden to him, of your emotions being too much to handle.

but you couldn't do it, you could never walk away from him, not when he had your heart in this grip of his hands. so you decided to deal with it. get over it and move on.

but he walked away from you.

as high school rolled around, the dynamic between you and jungwon began to shift. jungwon found new friends, often seen partying and going on every so often on social media, a large group of friends by his side most of the time. his natural charm and athletic abilities , he even made it on the football team, thus making him a favorite among students. despite this, you tried to maintain your bond, even as you focused on your studies.

you found out he made the football team about a month into the new school year, and despite the urge to walk up to him to congratulate him yourself like you usually do, you bit your tongue, watching him from afar, as his friends cheered, his smile so big, dimples so prominent, you havent seen him smile like this in a while, was it because of you? because of your constant saddened mood? because you're so sensitive it brings people down with you?

you opted to calling him that night, messages from you often left on delivered by him, so you refrained from that being your first option, and unlocked your phone and looked for his contact, you dialed his number, anxiously tapping your fingers on the back of your phone, waiting for him to pick up, again. beep..beep...beep... the number you dialed is currently not available, please leave a message after this beep. with a deep sigh, you tossed your phone beside you, he's busy again, you wondered, your heart ached slightly, was this it? has he finally left you? , you looked at your ceiling for a moment, fiddling the skin around your nails and cuticles, and opted to send him a message.

to wonie : hey won, i just wanted to congratulate you for making the football team! we havent talked since the try outs, please call me back whenever you can to catch up <3

as you tapped send, your gut feeling knew he was gonna take a while to answer, like he's been doing for the past month or so ever since school started. you knew you were being replaced, and part of you felt relieved that jungwon is finally taking a step back and letting you do things on your own, but this isnt what you wanted afterall, you didnt want him to completely disappear from you like the way he is now. you yearned so much for his presence, but these days its almost impossible to get a text back within the day or sometimes, within the week.

your eyes welled up with tears, fighting the urge to let them spill, the comforter that wrapped warmly around your body seemed to not comfort you anymore, the cold seeped in front within and you cried, wailed and sobbed for your friend, the promise jungwon, you promised to never make me cry.

but it wasnt officially over though right? you thought so, you needed to know, so desperately for an answer, was your friendship finally over? you werent so sure, it felt like it, but you wanted to ask him.

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to jungwon, his life took a new turn. after a particularly thrilling football game, he caught the attention of jake, one of the star players on the team. jake and some of his friends saw potential in jungwon and invited him to try out for the team. excited by the prospect of joining their ranks and eager to prove himself, jungwon accepted the invitation without hesitation.

from the moment he joined the team, jungwon's schedule became busier. he spent countless hours practicing, hanging out with the team, and participating in social events. the camaraderie and thrill of being part of the football team were exhilarating. he felt like he was finally becoming someone important, someone recognized and admired by his peers.

unfortunately, this newfound popularity came at a cost. jungwon found himself prioritizing the football team and his new found friends over you. he didnt mean to really, he often missed plans, stood you up, or simply forgot about the time you were supposed to spend together. each time he let you down, he felt a pang of guilt, but he reassured himself that he could make it up to you later. but he never did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

shit, you were gonna be late for class, quickly walking over to your first class of the day, stupid alarm you thought, however, as you were so focused on looking at your phone, watching as time moved faster in the moment, you bumped into someone, dropping your phone in the process. cursing out quietly, and apologizing, you knelt down to collect your belonging, a quiet voice pulled you out of your wandering thoughts, the warmth that you held onto so dearly, but havent heard from in so long, stood before you " y/n?" jungwon titled his head, trying to get your attention " sorry i was in a hurry.. what are you doing? arent you supposed to be in class too?" you glanced at him, and then your phone, time was ticking, and you needed to get to class right now, but here he was, standing before you, for the first time in a week, " uh yeah i actually have football try outs in about 10 mins ...so i wont be in class today "

"oh thats true, i know you'll do well, uhm by the way.. i know you've been busy with training and all, but we missed our plans the other day, we can reschedule, i really i dont mind" you hummed, class soon became a second priority, you didnt mind being late anymore, now that you got to talk to jungwon face to face after a while. but unbeknownst to you, this might been the last time.

" im sorry y/n... i swear ill make it up to you, ive just been really busy, ill call you after school yeah? we can plan something then" he smiled, as he readjusted his bag that was lazily swung over his shoulder, " yeah, definietly, ive got to go, good luck wonie!" you smiled back, walking away, happy and joyful.

but that promised call never came, and that night you stared at your phone for hours, waiting for his name to pop up, and it never did. but you were okay with it, you can wait.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jungwon's thoughts often drifted to you. he had always loved you, which was why he made all those promises and stood by your side through thick and thin. but with the overwhelming joy and busyness of his new life, he started to neglect your friendship. It wasn't intentional, but it happened all the same. He never meant to put you second; he just mindlessly went on with his days, you always in the back of his mind.

jungwon knew he was screwing up. He saw the disappointment in your eyes each time he missed plans or stood you up. but each time, you forgave him, and he foolishly took that forgiveness for granted. he was stressed with schoolwork and football training, and so he put you aside for now, waiting for the right moment to swoop you back into his arms and make it all up to you.

but that moment never came. he kept forgetting to text or call you back. He barely saw you at school, except in class, but even then, the distance was palpable. jungwon knew it was partly his fault, but he kept telling himself he would fix things soon. He knew he loved you, he was just stupid, overwhelmed, and lost in the whirlwind of high school life.

the more time jungwon spent with his new friends, the more he felt the pangs of guilt gnawing at him. every time he saw you in the hallways, your eyes catching his for a fleeting moment before you looked away, he felt a knot tighten in his chest. he missed the late-night conversations, the shared laughter, and the comfortable silence that only you can provide.

but as weeks turned into a month, the pressures of high school only intensified. football games, practice sessions, team outings, and the ever-present demands of academics left him little time to breathe, let alone rekindle a friendship that was slowly slipping through his fingers. jungwon told himself that he would find the right moment to make things right, but that moment always seemed just out of reach.

he was at a breaking point, and you swooped in, at the worst time.

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god were you scared, you woke up with a knot of anxiety in your stomach. the skin around your nails was raw and bitten off from a night of nervous fretting. you had replayed the conversation in your head countless times, dreading his reaction but knowing it had to be done. you couldn’t let this drift continue; it was eating away at you, and you missed your best friend too much to stay silent any longer. you decided today was the day you'd confront him.

you got ready for school, your hands trembling as you pulled on your clothes and brushed your hair. every glance in the mirror showed a face etched with worry. You barely touched your breakfast, unable to stomach anything, your parents glanced over at each other for the nth time that morning, worry evident " honey you need to eat" you mother hummed sweetly " im okay, thank you for breakfast, im heading out", and with that you walked over to your parents, planting a kiss on their foreheads and made your way out. the walk to school made you almost vomit, the familiar route felt strange and daunting, each step closer to the confrontation making your heart pound harder, and dread started to settle in.

at school, you found jungwon surrounded by some of his friends in the hallway, jungwon resting his back on the lockers mounted behind him, a soft smile on his face as the morning sun shined brightly through the hallway windows. the atmosphere was light for him, he was softly giggling at a banter between his jake and jay. you felt a pang of longing and hurt seeing him so immersed in their world, a world that had pushed you out. summoning all your courage, you walked up to them, your heart in your throat.

"jungwon," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?"

his friends fell silent, turning to look at you with confusion. none of them knew about the history you shared with jungwon, and their curiosity was evident in their faces. jungwon hesitated, glancing between you and his friends. for a moment, you thought he might brush you off, but then he nodded reluctantly and stepped away from the group.

you quickly led him to an empty classroom, the silence between you two thick with unspoken words. once inside, shutting the door behind you, you finally turned to face him, your nerves on edge. "jungwon, are we okay?" you began, your voice trembling. "i mean, are you okay? youve been so busy i barely get to see you anymore."

jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "i've been really busy with football and school. it's not that I don't care, it's just... everything's been so overwhelming."

"but we promised," you said, tears welling up in your eyes, you tried so hard to not let them pour out, let vulnerbility show in this moment, you needed to stand your ground. "we promised each other, i get that things are getting harder for you, but you cant be the only one complaining, please jungwon, why are you pushing me away? i never see you anymore, i never hear from you, and when i do, its days or even weeks after contact! why are you leaving me? why did you lie to me! ."

with his head in his hands, rubbing his face to wake up from the early morning drowsiness, jungwon's frustration boiled over. "I can't be everywhere at once!" he snapped, glaring over at you. "do you think it's easy balancing everything? i'm doing the best I can, and you're constantly blowing up my phone, calls after calls, texts after texts. i can't handle you and everything else at the same time, and maybe if you weren't so sensitive about everything, we wouldn't be having this conversation!, find someone else to bother"

the words cut deep, and you felt the sting of tears, using your own insecurities against you, was a new low for jungwon and he knew, but in that moment he didnt want to back down, he was hurt, that you accused him of being the villain, but he knew he was, he was most definietly the bad guy. "i just miss you," you whispered, your voice breaking. "i need you, jungwon and you know that too"

" i cant handle you anymore " he shot back, not realizing the full impact of his words until they hung in the air between you.

the tears you had been holding back flowed freely now, and you couldn’t bear to stay any longer. you turned and fled from the classroom.

jungwon ran after you, but you disappeared by the time he reached the end of the hallway, students peering out of classrooms to see what was going on, only to find jungwon stood, shoulders slumped, chest heaving and slowly he crumbled.

he had hurt you, deeply, he realized just how badly he had been treating you. the guilt and regret hit him like a tidal wave, and he knew in that moment that he was the worst person ever.

in that moment, he wished so bad, to turn back time, to tell you it was all a mistake, his mistakes, leading up to this moment, and tell you how much he loves you, the whole you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

part 2 coming soon!

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[wonderlanddreamer]

[Tommy Shelby x Reader]

Summary: Thank you for this request. Since your marriage, Tommy has always been so gentle with you. But lately you've been craving something with a little more ferocity.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+ MDNI. You know the drill by now.

You still remembered the day you and Tommy Shelby got married as if it were yesterday. The memory was a vivid, brilliant tapestry of emotions and sensations. The way the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows of the small Birmingham chapel, casting colorful patterns on the floor as you walked down the aisle, was something you’d never forget. Your heart had pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness, a symphony of emotions playing within you. You could still hear the soft rustle of your gown, the gentle hum of the organ, and the quiet murmurs of family and other guests witnessing the union.

As you reached the altar, there was Tommy, waiting for you with a look that melted every ounce of anxiety away. His piercing blue eyes, usually so guarded and calculating, were filled with pure love and adoration. The way he looked at you made you feel like the most cherished person in the world, as if nothing and no one else existed in that moment but the two of you. It was a look that promised a lifetime of love, care, and unwavering support, a stark contrast to the hardened gangster persona he showed to the rest of the world.

Life with Tommy had been nothing short of a dream, albeit an unconventional one. Every day, he found new ways to show you how much he loved you, from sweet morning kisses that gently coaxed you awake to spontaneous acts of kindness that made your heart flutter with joy. He would leave little notes for you to find, or surprise you with your favourite flowers just to see you smile. Your honeymoon phase had been filled with laughter, tenderness, and a deepening bond that you treasured immensely. Nights were spent in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings and sharing dreams for the future, a stark contrast to the gritty reality of his day-to-day dealings with the Peaky Blinders.

In the bedroom, Tommy had always been incredibly gentle and caring. His touch was soft, his words were sweet, and he constantly made sure you were comfortable and happy. His hands would trace delicate patterns on your skin, his kisses were tender, and his voice was a soothing balm that eased all your worries. At first, you had loved the way he treated you with such reverence and tenderness. It made you feel safe and loved, and you cherished those intimate moments with him. They were a sanctuary, a place where you felt utterly adored and protected, a stark contrast to the dangerous world outside your bedroom door.

However, as time went on, you started to feel a growing desire for something different. You loved Tommy’s gentleness, but a part of you longed for a different kind of passion, a fire that burned with more intensity. It was a desire that you found hard to articulate, even to yourself. You were shy and unsure how to bring it up to Tommy, fearing that he might misunderstand or think he had done something wrong. The thought of hurting his feelings or making him doubt his expressions of love was something you couldn’t bear, especially knowing how deeply he valued your happiness.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, wrapped in each other's arms, you decided to take a leap of faith. Tommy was tracing lazy circles on your back, his touch as soothing as ever, but your mind was racing with thoughts of how to broach the topic.

“Tommy,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it, love?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound. The words tumbled out before you could second-guess yourself. “I... I want you to be rougher with me. In bed.”

Tommy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn’t interrupt. He simply watched you, waiting for you to continue.

“I mean, I love how gentle you are,” you quickly added, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “It’s just... I want to feel your strength. I want you to take control, to be more intense. I’ve been craving it, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Tommy’s expression shifted, his eyes darkening to a smouldering intensity that made your breath hitch. His smile was slow, predatory. “You should have told me sooner,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I want to give you everything you need.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “Really?”

“Really,” he affirmed, his gaze never leaving yours, his eyes burning with a fierce, possessive hunger. “If you want to see a rougher side of me, you just have to ask.”

The promise in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a thrill of anticipation.

Tommy leaned in closer, his hand sliding down to grip you with a firmer hold than usual, his fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made your breath hitch. “Are you ready for that now?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous growl that sent waves of heat through you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your heart racing, your body already responding to the intensity in his gaze. “Please, Tommy.”

With a predatory smile that made your pulse quicken, Tommy flipped you onto your back with a swift, decisive motion, pinning your wrists above your head with one strong hand. His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce, possessive hunger that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. “Then let’s see just how rough you can handle it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise and challenge.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His teeth grazed your lower lip, eliciting a gasp that seemed to fuel his fire. The spark of electricity that shot through you was almost too intense to bear. His free hand moved from your wrists, trailing down your arms, fingertips leaving a burning path as they travelled down your sides. When his hands finally gripped your hips, the hold was firm, possessive, making it clear just how much strength he was holding back.

Tommy released your hands and moved both of his to your hips, gripping them tightly as he positioned himself above you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The dominance in his presence was palpable, every movement filled with a calculated roughness that sent a thrill through your entire body. He moved with a sense of purpose, his actions rougher but still controlled, a perfect balance of power and restraint. You could feel his strength, the raw power he held back for your sake, and it made your entire body hum with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.

The change in his demeanour was intoxicating, every touch, every kiss, every rough grip of your flesh igniting something primal within you. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he wanted to own every part of you, and it sent your mind reeling. Tommy’s rougher side was everything you had craved and more, a dark, intoxicating blend of passion and power that left you breathless and wanting.

You gazed up at him, your breath coming in short gasps. "I don't want you to treat me like I will break."

He nodded, his eyes blazing with desire. “So be it."

Tommy's voice was a low growl, reverberating through you and intensifying the anticipation. He tightened his grip on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to leave a gentle mark, a reminder of his presence and strength. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, before he leaned down to claim your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, demanding and rough, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, his hands never leaving your body. The sudden change in position made your heart race even faster. You felt the cool air against your back as he pulled your hips up, positioning you on all fours. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, his touch both firm and possessive, claiming every inch of you with a deliberate intensity.

"You look so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me."

He smiled against your skin, his lips trailing down your back, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake. His teeth grazed your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You gasped, arching your back and pressing into him, craving more of his touch, his dominance, his control.

Tommy's hand slid down your spine, his touch both soothing and electrifying. When he reached your lower back, he paused, his fingers digging in slightly, sending shivers down your body. "You want it rough, love?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation, every nerve ending alight with the promise of what was to come.

With that, he gripped your hips firmly and pulled you back against him. You felt his hardness pressing against you, a tantalising promise of what was to come. He moved with a measured intensity, positioning himself at your entrance. He paused for a moment, the anticipation building to a fever pitch, every second stretching out like an eternity.

Then, with a powerful thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. The force of his movement made you cry out, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you reeling, your mind spinning with the intensity of it. He didn't give you time to adjust, pulling back and thrusting into you again, harder this time. Each movement was deliberate, rough, and filled with a raw intensity that you had never experienced before.

Each push was a potent mix of power and precision, his hips driving forward with a force that left you gasping. You could feel the full length of him as he plunged deep inside you, stretching you, filling you completely. The rhythm he set was unyielding, each powerful stroke sending shockwaves of sensation through your body.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the raw intensity of it all—the sound of skin against skin, the raw, primal grunts escaping his lips, and your own moans of pleasure filled the room, creating a symphony of raw, carnal desire. With every withdrawal, you felt a momentary emptiness, a desperate longing that made the next powerful thrust even more electrifying. Each time he drove into you, it was like a lightning bolt of ecstasy shooting through your veins, your body trembling with the force of it. The relentless rhythm he set didn’t just push you to the edge; it hurled you toward it with a ferocity that left you breathless and utterly consumed by the raw, primal power of Tommy's love.

Tommy's hands gripped you tightly, pulling you back to meet each of his relentless drives. The sheer force of his movements reverberated through your entire being, each powerful plunge sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. His strength and power were palpable, a raw, unyielding force that overwhelmed your senses. As his pace quickened, you found yourself teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. You clung desperately to the sheets, your knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations that threatened to consume you.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice rough with exertion and dripping with intensity. "Tell me, love. Tell me you want more."

"Yes, Tommy," you gasped, barely able to form coherent words as the pleasure mounted. "I want more. Don't stop."

His response was a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. He increased his pace, each drive becoming more forceful, more demanding, as if he were trying to imprint himself on your very soul. The intensity built within you, a coiling, tightening sensation that threatened to snap at any moment. Every powerful stroke filled you completely, each one a testament to his dominance and your surrender.

Tommy's hand moved to your hair, tangling in the strands and pulling your head back with a rough, possessive tug. The slight pain only heightened your pleasure, making you cry out louder, your voice mingling with the sounds of your bodies colliding. He leaned down, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. "You're mine," he growled, his voice filled with a fierce possessiveness. "All mine."

"Yes," you moaned, the word barely a whisper as you surrendered yourself completely. "All yours."

Without warning, Tommy slowed his pace, eliciting a needy whimper from your lips. Before you could protest, he pulled out and flipped you onto your back with a swift, practiced motion. His eyes roamed over your flushed, panting form, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you.

"Did you think I was finished, love?" he asked, his voice a dark, seductive promise that sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you.

You shook your head, unable to form words, your body already aching for more of him. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

He positioned himself between your legs, spreading them wide and kneeling down with a predatory grace. His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear, a fierce, unrelenting desire that mirrored your own.

"You're going to take everything I give you," he said, his voice rough and commanding, leaving no room for doubt.

You felt a thrill of excitement at his words, your body trembling with anticipation as you nodded eagerly, ready to be consumed by the raw, ferocious passion that only Tommy could bring.

Tommy entered you again, his thrusts slow and deliberate this time, drawing out the pleasure with an almost torturous precision. He watched your face intently, his eyes never leaving yours, gauging every reaction and pushing you to the brink with each calculated movement. The slow, steady rhythm allowed you to feel every inch of him, every vein and ridge, heightening the sensations coursing through your body to an almost unbearable intensity.

Tommy leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he moved inside you. His tongue explored your mouth with the same deliberate intent as his hips, each stroke sending shivers down your spine. The heat between you built like a slow burn, promising an impending climax that would be nothing short of explosive.

His hands roamed over your trembling body, one hand trailing up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nipple, making you gasp. The other hand gripped your hip with a possessive roughness, holding you firmly in place as he continued his deliberate, torturous rhythm. Each touch, each thrust, sent powerful waves of pleasure through you, your body arching eagerly into his touch.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire and a hint of possessiveness. "So perfect."

You moaned in response, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin with a desperate intensity. The slow, controlled pace was driving you wild, and you found yourself craving more, needing him to push you over the edge into oblivion.

"Tommy, please," you gasped, your voice trembling with need and desperation. "I need more."

He pulled back slightly, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "More, you say?" he teased, his eyes darkening with lust and determination. "I can give you more."

With that, he shifted his position, pulling your legs up to rest over his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to penetrate you deeper, each powerful thrust hitting a spot inside you that made you cry out in sheer pleasure. He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, each movement sending waves of raw ecstasy crashing through you.

The intensity of his thrusts had you writhing beneath him, your body responding to his every touch with a fervor that was almost primal. You could feel the pleasure building, coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Tommy's hands gripped your thighs with a bruising force, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with relentless, ferocious energy.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice rough and dripping with possessive hunger. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you moaned, barely able to form the words as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. "All yours."

The affirmation seemed to drive him wild, his movements becoming even more forceful and unrestrained. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your gasps and moans, creating a symphony of raw, unbridled passion. Tommy's eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze adding to the overwhelming sensations and making you feel utterly consumed by him.

He slowed his pace again, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into you, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The change in rhythm kept you on edge, your body teetering on the brink of release, each slow withdrawal followed by a punishing drive that left you breathless.

Tommy's hand moved from your thigh to your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub with expert precision and a rough touch that sent you spiralling toward the edge. The added stimulation was too much, your body trembling violently as the force of your impending climax built to a fever pitch.

"Come for me, love," Tommy commanded, his voice a low, primal growl that seemed to reverberate deep within your core. "I want to feel you come around me."

His words were the final push you needed. With a powerful, relentless thrust, he drove you over the precipice. Your body erupted in a convulsive wave of ecstasy, muscles tightening and pulsing around him, each contraction drawing out the pleasure to its absolute limit. Every nerve ending felt electrified, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the climax that washed over you.

Tommy didn't let up, his thrusts became more deliberate, each one designed to prolong your pleasure and push you deeper into the abyss of your orgasm. His hips moved with a brutal precision, each powerful stroke sending fresh waves of sensation coursing through your trembling body. Your nails dug into his back, your cries of pleasure becoming louder, more desperate as he continued to draw every last ounce of ecstasy from you.

Your vision blurred, your mind a haze of pure, unfiltered sensation. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw power in his movements, the way he seemed to fill every part of you, making you feel completely, utterly possessed.

Tommy's breathing grew more ragged, his own release building as he felt the intensity of your climax. He shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you with ruthless precision. The added stimulation was too much, sending you spiralling into a second, even more intense orgasm. Your body convulsed violently, each spasm wringing out every drop of pleasure, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As your climax began to subside, Tommy's thrusts became erratic, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own peak. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, his grip on your hips tightening, fingers digging into your flesh with a bruising force. With a deep, guttural groan, he finally found his release, his body shuddering as he emptied himself inside you. The feeling of his warmth filling you sent a final shiver of pleasure through your already sensitised body.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting anchor that grounded you as you both came down from the high. Your bodies remained entwined, the aftershocks of pleasure still rippling through you. Tommy's fingers gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and soothing in contrast to the raw, primal passion that had just consumed you.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability.

You nodded, a satisfied, almost blissful smile playing on your lips. "More than okay," you whispered, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your release. "That was incredible."

Tommy's eyes softened, a small, almost relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch feather-light and filled with affection. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, a comforting reminder of the connection you shared.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to simply lie there, wrapped in each other's embrace. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled breathing, the quiet aftermath of the storm of passion that had just passed. Tommy's hand continued to stroke your hair, his touch a soothing balm to your exhausted body.

As you lay there, your mind slowly began to clear, the haze of pleasure giving way to a deep, fulfilling sense of contentment. You felt utterly spent, every muscle in your body relaxed, yet there was a lingering warmth, a glow that seemed to radiate from within. It was a feeling of completeness, of being entirely and utterly sated.

Tommy shifted slightly, lifting himself up just enough to look into your eyes. "You really are amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of awe and affection. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man who had just taken you to the edge and back. "And I don't think I'll ever get enough of you," you replied, your voice soft but filled with conviction.

With a final, lingering kiss, Tommy settled back down beside you, pulling you close. The two of you lay there, bodies entwined, hearts beating in sync, content to simply be in each other's presence. The stillness of the room was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of passion you had just experienced, but it was a welcome calm, a moment of peace that you both relished.

After a while, Tommy's voice broke the silence. "Maybe next time," he began, his tone thoughtful, "we should take it a bit easier. Slow things down a little, I don't want to hurt you."

You felt a spark of defiance ignite within you. The intensity, the rawness of your time together was what made it so exhilarating, so consuming. You couldn't bear the thought of dialling it back, of tempering the fire that burned so brightly between you.

"No," you said firmly, surprising even yourself with the strength of your conviction. You propped yourself up on one elbow, meeting Tommy's gaze with an unwavering determination. "I don't want to take it easier."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement and curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Oh? And what do you want then, love?"

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "I want it rougher, harder. I want you to fuck me like you can't get enough, like you're trying to break me. I want to feel every bruise, every bite. I want to be completely wrecked by you, to the point where I can't even think straight."

Tommy's eyes darkened with desire at your words. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Careful what you wish for, love," he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "I might just take you up on that.”

[lotsoflola]

happy new year - l. haechan

summary: when a stranger asks to share your first kiss of the new year, you allow yourself to have some fun, just for the night... genre: icl it's just smut warnings: smut, whole lotta smut, this is complete and utter filth i am so sorry. everyone gets head, dirty talk, spitting lol, praise, kinda dom!haechan, don’t really know what’s going on half the time word count: 5.1k authors note: happy new year!! little treat bc im on my period and in love with lee haechan. (sidenote: this went so far i don't know what came over me but jesus christ)

31st december 2023, seoul- 11:54pm

“come on mate, get another drink down you,” mark lee handed his best friend a jagerbomb, his spare hand resting on haechan's shoulder, his drunken self unable to stand properly.

haechan smiled slightly, before taking the drink and shotting it in one. it had been a few days since him and his girlfriend broke up, and he wasn’t anywhere near over her yet. he didn’t know if he ever would be, judging by how he felt right now. he wanted to be at home, bottle of some 40% spirit in hand and trying to forget.

mark wouldn’t let that happen though, forcing him out tonight so he finally left the confinement of his apartment, hoping that the party scene would alleviate some of the stress on his best friend's shoulder.

“come on, there’s so many fit girls here, take your pick,” he slurred, before being pulled away by his girlfriend for the traditional new years kiss.

haechan hadn’t realised it was almost midnight, and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the reminder that last year he was doing this with his ex. he grabbed another drink from the bar and got it down him quickly, planning on sitting at the bar while everyone around him spend the next few minutes with their loved ones.

until he saw you.

his eyes were glued to you the moment he saw you, stuck on how the short red dress you were wearing clung to your curves, stuck on how your hair tumbled over your bare shoulders, stuck on how the sparkly eyeshadow glistened under the neon lights or the club and lit up your whole face.

you made eye contact was you turned towards the bar, and obviously he caught your fancy, with a black button up that pronounced his muscles more than usual, a chain around his neck, and his hair in defined curls that contrasted his tanned skin. he looked almost like an angel descended from the heavens, except an angel would never have such a sorrowed look upon their face.

he beckoned you over with a flick of his fingers, eyes never leaving your body, and you may have been upset if you weren’t as gone as you were. you settled yourself in between his legs, taking the half drank glass from his hand and finishing it off for him, leaving a faint red mark on the rim.

he was infatuated at first glance. his hands settled in the dip of your waist, almost engulfing your body with their size. his mouth slowly curved into a smirk as he watched you lean over him to place the now empty glass on the bar, allowing him a small look at your lace bra you were wearing under your dress.

he checked the time on the clock. 11:57.

“what’s your name, gorgeous?” he asked, thumbs drawing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress.

you told him your name, before then asking for his, and his eyes widened with the realisation that you didn’t know who he was, or you were too drunk to realise.

“haechan,” he smiled softly, voice deep and husky.

11:58.

“you here with anyone?” he asked, eyes dropping down to your red-stained lips before meeting your eyes again, the actions so quick you could barely recognise it happening.

you shook your head. “well, my friend, but she’s here with her boyfriend so…”

“i’m in the same boat,” he chuckled softly, subconsciously pulling you closer and closer towards him, so your thighs were brushing against his, “my mate mark is here but he’s ran off with his girlfriend now.”

“god i hate people in couples,” you laughed, receiving one in return from haechan, “they act all in love with no regard for those of us who are single.”

11:59.

“tell me about it,” haechan rolled his eyes, his hand slowly climbing up your body so they were now resting against your rib cage.

you looped your arms around him, hands settling in the nape of his neck, a finger wrapping around a loose curl in his hair. he stood up now, looking down on you, and leant down so your faces were mere centimetres apart.

“you know it’s almost midnight,” he whispered in your ear, breath warm against your skin.

you hummed in response, feeling your heart beat doubly as fast against your ribs, the air suddenly feeling so much warmer.

“and i don’t have anyone to kiss.” as the final word left his mouth his lips attached to your neck, soft under ear, leaving a sloppy kiss that made you want more, want so much more.

“i don’t have anyone either,” you almost whispered, scared you had the wrong impression, but of course you didn’t.

chants of people in the background took you out of your little bubble, as the familiar ‘ten, nine, eight,’ sounded through the club.

haechan leant right in, so your lips were practically touching already. “can i kiss you?”

you nodded just as the clock struck midnight, and his lips crashed into yours, with a sense of lust that you hadn’t felt in far too long.

the kiss was wet, it was sloppy, but it was desperate and needy and it sent a shiver through your body down to your core. your hands buried themselves in his hair, pulling against his roots and causing him to groan into the kiss, allowing him to stick his tongue in and control the kiss.

your tongues moved in harmony as his hands ran down the lengths of your body, as if he was scared this would be the last time he could touch you, the last time he could feel you under his fingertips. they eventually settled against your ass, cupping it lightly as he pushed your hips against his, so you could feel his semi through his jeans.

you wanted to kiss him forever, wanted all of him all at once. you decided that if the world ended now, you would be happy to die here and now, in haechan's embrace, his lips pressed against yours.

he pulled away, but only for his lips to find your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses until he found that sweet spot, the spot that made your neck roll back, giving him more access to suck against your skin, undoubtably leaving deep purple marks wherever he went.

your hands detached themselves from his hair and instead you dragged them down his body, fingers spaced out as you passed his pecs, passed his abs (though you were very tempted to linger there), and finished at the waistband of his jeans, dipping an index finger inside to trace the elastic of his boxers.

you felt him groan against your skin, pulling away to give you a look as if to say ‘really? in public?’. deciding to play it innocent, you just beat your eyelashes at him, a confused look on your face, and slowly ventured lower and lower.

haechan wasn’t having any of that, however, grabbing your wrists easily in one hand and dragging you over to the door, pulling his phone out to call a taxi. you tried to kiss him again, but he just tutted, with a dangerous glint in his eye that told you you were in for it when you got back to his.

the taxi arrived sooner rather than later, and haechan made an effort to sit in the front, leaving you in the back alone. you were confused, wondering where the sudden coldness had come from, wondering if you had pushed it too far. but when he turned around midway through the journey, and mouthed ‘behave now, and i’ll be nice later’, you knew it was going to be a fun night.

you quickly sent your friend a text to let her know you were okay, not that she would read it for another few hours, before deliberating whether or not to behave. on the one hand, behaving means that you wouldn’t piss haechan off and that he’ll ‘be nice’ later, whatever that meant. but one the other hand, you kind of wanted to push his buttons, see what you could get him to do. which is why you decided to call your friend and stir up some trouble.

“hey bitch!” you practically sang into the phone, the drunkenness being more apparent than ever. you could see haechan in the rear view mirror, and watched as his face seemed confused, but not upset.

“hey!” she slurred back, as drunk as you were, “where the fuck are you?”

“i’m with this guy,” you smirked to yourself as you started your plan, “but i can’t lie, he just doesn’t seem all that you know. like he seems like he’s all talk and he won’t deliver.”

haechan raised an eyebrow at that, but still didn’t say or do anything, though you could tell he was definitely listening in now.

“then why are you going with him?” your friend asked, and you could faintly here the music of the club in the background.

you hummed into the phone, but loud enough for haechan to hear as well. “don’t know, maybe i just feel bad for him. he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to fuck, you get what i’m saying?”

haechan's fist clenched at that comment, but he still kept his cool, at least from the outside.

“like, i don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like he knows how to make me cum.”

that particular comment must have hit a nerve because haechan leant back and grabbed the phone from your hand. you pouted and lazily attempted to grab it back, but really you were glad you were able to rile him up.

he quickly spoke to your friend, telling her you were okay and where you were going, before hanging up and ignoring your pleas for your phone.

it was only a few more minutes before you were back at haechan's flat, and he still ignored you while he paid the driver and guided you up the stairs, other than a link through your arm to make sure you didn’t fall. you liked the fact that he was still a gentleman, even though it seemed like he was about to not be.

“haechan-” you whined as you waited outside his apartment, watching him unlock the door, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“what did i tell you?” he asked, voice still and stern, not facing you at all.

you tried to grab his wrist to get him to face you but he resisted. “to behave.”

“and you didn’t behave, did you?” his voice was almost patronising, but it was deep and rough and so fucking sexy that you didn’t care. “so now, i have to show you that what you were saying to your friend isn’t true. unless you’re going to apologise and tell me you didn’t mean it?”

he was giving you a chance to back down, to take the easy route. but it was new year’s day and you were never going to see him again, so you decided to have some fun.

“i don’t know what to tell you, you just don’t seem like you could make a girl cum,” you played it like you didn’t care, when your heart was racing knowing that something good was coming next.

he finally opened the door to his apartment and picked you up, your legs naturally looping around his waist as he pulled you into a rough kiss. it wasn’t like the one earlier, where even though it was rough there was a sweetness behind it, but instead this was pure lust and need in a kiss. his tongue explored every part of your mouth, at a ferocity that you felt like you were on fire, and that no bucket of water could ever pull you out.

his hands settled under your ass, kneading the skin under the silk of your dress. your hands found his shoulders, broad and wide, and you needed them stabilise as your world was spinning around you.

he carried you through his apartment, with you getting a brief look before he threw you onto his bed, leaving you looking up at him with rosy cheeks and lust-hazed eyes.

in the light he looked majestic, with two dimmed lamps either side of you projecting warm orange hues onto his face. fuck, he was gorgeous, chiseled by the gods themselves, and as he undid the buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, your mouth almost started to water at how beautiful he looked.

you pulled yourself up, going to try and finish undoing the buttons to take his top off, but he stopped you, once again capturing your wrists but this time pinning them behind your back.

“you don’t get to touch if you misbehave, baby,” he said, fake-pity written all across his face.

his other hand pulled your dress off your shoulders, and he let go of your hands for just a moment to remove it from the rest of your body. your heels were next, as he undid them slowly and carefully, taking his time to admire you, watching as your patience was running out.

left in just your lacy red lingerie, you watched as he climbed back over you, obvious hard on that he ignored as his lips met yours in another kiss. it wasn’t quite like the other one, slightly softer, as if he was checking that you were okay with all this. and of course you were.

he pulled away. “i can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“that’s what i said, isn’t it?” you teased back, tilting your head while trying to catch your breath.

“well, i guess you won’t be coming tonight then,” he almost sighed, before diving into the crook of your neck and leaving harsh, aggressive kisses wherever he could, adding to the deep purple marks he caused earlier on.

he slowly made his way down your neck, before finally making it to the valley of your breasts, where he sucked harder than before, obviously trying to deepen the colour and add to your pleasure. his hands found your breasts, taking one in each and kneading them, a soft massage that felt better than it ever should have done. was it the alcohol? or was it him?

he pulled your right boob out of your bra, eyes widening as his index finger and thumb took your nipple in between them and started to roll it gently. you arched your back in reponse, a weak moan falling from your lips, which pushed your breast into his fingers more. his other hand pulled out your other breast, but instead of his fingers his lips attached to it, and your mouth parted subconsciously as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

god, he was good. and he knew he was good judging by the smirk on his face. you almost regretted not letting him pleasure you how he was planning to.

almost.

“fuck, haechan,” you let out a breathy whine as he swapped over, both of your nipples having an overwhelming sense of pleasure, “look so pretty sucking my tits.”

you could tell he liked that, as a vibration shook through your body when he moaned against your skin. he pulled away, much to your dismay, but you stopped minding as he slowly made his way down your body, still leaving the open mouthed kisses as he reached your belly button.

“you know,” he almost panted, hands still fixed on your tits, “i was gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

one hand leaves your nipple, a cool trail down your stomach before it settles at your waistband, mimicking your actions from in the club. your hips buck against his hand, causing him to chuckle slightly, as you crave more and more and more of his touch’s

“i was gonna make you come on my tongue, it would have felt so fucking good,” his sultry voice was working wonders as his fingertips traced the patterns in the lace, “would have had you screaming my name as i sucked your clit, would have felt fucking euphoric.”

even his words made you feel something, made you feel like any moment now you were about to combust. one finger trailed down your panties, feather light over where you needed him the most, but with the lace barrier in the way.

“god, you’ve ruined these, huh?” he chuckled, feeling how your wetness had soaked through your underwear. “so fucking wet and all i’ve touched are your tits. so responsive for me.”

you wanted to talk back, wanted to have some bite to you, spur him on even more, but you couldn’t conjure up anything while he left soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“still want my mouth, baby?” his voice was sickly sweet, but the tone behind it was cruel and teasing, because obviously you still wanted his mouth.

you nodded as best as you could, but he shook his head a response, a ‘tut tut tut’ leaving his mouth.

“need words, sweetheart,” he almost sang, the petname laced in a sense of mocking, “or else you’re not getting anything from me.”

you mustered up every last drop of energy you had and spoke up. “please, haechan. i want you.”

“want what?”

it took every fibre in your body to not tell him to fuck off there and then. you wanted to, you really wanted to, but you also wanted him. and that want won.

“want your mouth on me, please, baby.”

and that was enough for him, as he pulled down your lace panties and finally revealed your pussy to him.

“fuck me, sweetheart,” his finger trailed over your folds, feather light, as he took in the sight of it, “you’re glistening, look, you’re dripping out.”

you would have felt embarrassed, but the dutch courage must have taken over. “not used to seeing a girl so wet, huh?”

his tongue poked his cheek. “easy, pretty girl. let me make you feel good.”

he gently blew over you, making you squirm slightly, before he dived straight in and began sucking your clit. the pleasure was instant, your hips bucking into his face as he chuckled against you, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. everything he had made you feel up to this point was microscopic compared to the pleasure you felt now.

it only grew when he slid two fingers into your pussy, curling them up at hitting that spot inside of you, looking over as your face contorted in pleasure, eyes closed, mouth hung open, he thought you looked like the prettiest girl in the world.

you were already close, no idea how as you hadn’t been going for that long. but the mix of his fingers in your cunt and his mouth on your clit was bringing you to the edge.

“i- i’m close, haechan,” you stuttered, speaking hard when so much pleasure was coarsing through your veins.

he tilted his head slightly. “you’re close did you say?”

you nodded, feeling your orgasm approaching faster and faster, you could already feel it happening now. to add to everything, his fingers somehow reached deeper inside of you, contorting in a way where everything was just so fucking good.

“but wait,” he let out a soft, fake laugh, “i forgot. i can’t make you cum.”

and with that he pulled away, leaving you recovering from a high you never even got. you had to take a minute, your body feeling worse than ever as the euphoria slowly went away, and the lack of human touch was getting to you.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he faked pity, reaching down to swipe his thumb across your cheekbone. “you weren’t expecting to finish, not according to what you said in the car.”

you slowly opened your eyes, seeing his gorgeous face looking down on you, and fighting the urge to throw a punch. you subconsciously leaned into his touch, craving it despite the atrocity he just performed, and watched as he undid his belt with his other hand.

“here’s the deal,” he pulled away, leaving you with a whine, before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it all off, allowing you to see his abs for the first time that night, tone still ever-so-mocking. “you’re gonna suck me off, and if you do a good job, then, and only then, do you get to cum. understand, sweetheart?”

you nodded. secretly, you wanted to suck him off anyway, and with this deal you would get to come as well. he took a step back from the bed, tapping his foot against the floor as a gesture for you to come down. you couldn’t understand though, brain slightly fucked from the shortly lived pleasure, and instead looked at him confusedly.

“get on your knees for me, baby,” he cooed, and you did as he said, sinking onto his wooden floor and looking up at him, waiting for his next order. with the promise of an orgasm at the other end, at this point you would do anything to get to the prize.

he started to unzip his jeans, and as you went to help, he instantly took a step back. “hands behind your back, no touching remember?”

you pouted, but did as he said, linking for fingers behind your back as you waited for him to get ready. he pulled his boxers down, and jesus christ were you not ready.

he looked big through his hard on in his jeans, but you were not ready for all that. you could tell you were shocking your shock through your face, and he let out a soft chuckle and grabbed your chin with his right hand.

“think you can take it?” he asked, holding it with his other hand as he kept your eyes on it, watching as your mouth suddenly seemed to water.

you nodded. “mhm. just wanna make you feel good, baby. that’s all i want.”

he smiled down at you. “give me a kiss.”

you tried to climb up to kiss his lips, but his hand kept you pressed down, and you understood instantly. you leant forward to press your mouth against his dick, kissing the tip gently and watching as his head fell back. you left open mouthed kisses all down his length, finished at the base before climbing all the way back to the top. you started leaving kitten licks on the tip, watching the veins in his neck pulsate at your actions.

“god, you’re so fucking good,” he grunted, hand moving from your chin round to the back of your head, nestling in your hair as he started to take control. “you gonna take me all in?”

you hummed against his cock, opening your mouth as he guided you down, controlling your movements as he gently fucked your mouth. you tried your hardest not to move or choke, instead trying to focus on his pleasure.

you couldn’t help your eyes watering though, and when he looked down he obviously felt bad, relaxing a little bit as he let you take more charge.

“look so pretty naked on your knees for me,” he cooed, taking in sharp breaths as your tongue swirled around his tip. “who knew that such a sweet looking girl could give head like this? yeah, keep going, fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

you just kept going, knowing that the more you pleasured him the more likely you were to get pleasure yourself. haechan didn’t want to seem selfish, however, as his hand wrapped forward to stroke your cheek again.

“fuck, play with your nipples for me,” he ordered, slightly out of breath, but moaning as you started to play with yourself. he let out a groan as you moaned around his cock, head bobbing like this was your last day on earth. “such pretty tits, should be framed in a museum how good you look right now.”

you could tell he was close by how his breaths got shallower and shallower, and his thrusts into your throat got weaker. he pulled away though, leaving a string of saliva from your mouth to his cock, which you licked up instantly. you went back to kissing his cock, waiting as you could feel yourself growing wetter.

“you were so good, huh, baby?” he picked your naked body up, grabbing your hands and wrapping them round his neck, telling you that you could finally touch him again. “listened to everything i told you to do, such a good girl.”

his praise was music to your ears, and his actions matched the tone of his words. he lay you gently down on the bed, climbing over you as his lips met yours in the softest kiss of the night. it was an ‘are you okay?’ kiss, an ‘i hope i didn’t go too far’ kiss, a ‘you look beautiful’ kiss, and it was possibly your favourite of the night.

“gonna fuck that dripping pussy,” he mumbled into your lips before continuing the kiss, lining his cock up against your entrance, tapping it against your clit purely to watch you squirm with elation.

and as he thrusted into you it was like your world had stopped. fuck, he felt so good inside you, filling you up more than you could have imagined and left you choking on air as inch by inch he entered more and more.

haechan felt much the same, obsessed with how you felt clenched around him, how tight you were as he continued in. he waited once his whole dick was in, holding back from setting a rhythm until he was positive you could take it.

“feel so good clenched around me,” he muttered out, leaning back so he could check you were alright, check that you were ready for this, “such a tight little pussy needs to be stretched out.”

you nodded at him, a signal to start moving, and he did as he was told, beginning to thrust in and out of you at such a pace that your mouth flew open in shock. his hands dug into your hips, undoubtably causing marks as he fucked you deep and hard.

the moans emitted from your mouth were ungodly, borderline pornographic, and led to you covering your mouth in embarrassment. haechan was having none of that, however, stopping his movements to gaze into your eyes.

“don’t you dare not let me hear those pretty sounds,” he thrust at the end of the sentence, as if to solidify his point, and you allowed yourself to moan, “want all the neighbours to hear how good i’m fucking you.”

you were so close to the edge, once again seeing it in the distance, and you clenched around haechan trying to let him know. he chuckled and leant into your shoulder, kissing over the deep marks he’d left earlier, just adding to the euphoria you were feeling.

“gonna cum,” you whined, grabbing one of his hands and guiding it to your clit, needing that final push to make it over the edge.

he understood instantly, rubbing rough circles while sucking against your neck. the pleasure was washing over you in waves, and it wasn’t long until you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you feeling lighter and in a state of happiness you couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

haechan kept going, however, chasing his own orgasm, and you decided to help him get thrre, however harsh it was for you. your lips found his neck for the first time, leaving sloppy kisses along his collarbones that were followed by a row of dark purple and red.

“fuck me,” he grunted, thrusts getting sloppier as he got closer and closer to the edge. “gonna pull out, yeah?”

you nodded against his chest, nails tracing over his abs as you rocked your hips in tandem with him, so sensitive that you might even come again.

as he kept thrusting into you, you remembered how much he loved being praised earlier, and thought that might help get him over the edge.

“being so good, fucking me so well, baby” you sighed, whispering into his ear as you kissed up his neck.

you felt his thrusts stutter with your words, obviously having a positive impact as a blush rose to his cheeks. his hands gripped even harder around your hips, and you began to feel another orgasm coming.

“such a pretty boy, so so pretty, look so good and fuck me so good,” you kept going, your hands leaving him and instead finding your clit. “got the prettiest dick as well, feels so good all wrapped inside me.”

“fuck-” he choked out, before pulling out and finishing all over his chest.

he panted while you got yourself to finish, cumming over your fingers. you threw your head back against the pillow, watching your chest as it rose and fell, trying to catch your breath.

haechan joined you, lying across the bed while pulling himself together. you decided you weren’t finished, however, crawling over on top of him and licking his cum off of his abs, making sure to get every last drop off. his hands tangled themselves as you finished, pulling you up to him so he could kiss you again, making out like teenagers as you just enjoyed each others company.

“so,” haechan finally broke the silence as he pulled away from the kiss, “i did make you cum.”

you shrugged as you rolled back to the side of him. “was it more fun that i challenged you?”

“definitely. never known someone so responsive to some dirty talk,” he jested, earning a slap on his bicep.

“never known someone love to be praised so much,” you retaliated, shutting him up as he went to grab you a glass of water.

he returned quickly, along with some boxers for him and a baggy t-shirt for you. you noticed the t-shirt it had ‘nct dream’ across it, and you hummed for his attention as you threw it on.

“you like kpop then?” you asked, not expecting him to laugh in reponse.

“yeah, you could say that.”

you tilted your head in confusion, but decided you were too tired to understand whatever was going on. “you don’t mind me staying the night?”

“not at all.”

“you gonna tell me why that was so funny in the morning?” you asked, knowing it would be your last question before you drifted off to sleep.

he hummed. “of course. happy new year.”

“happy new year.”

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ YOURS, MINES, OURS

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. / m! reader

warnings — mentions of blood due to a minor injury, soft -> mean -> soft dom! nanamin, cucking ergo exhibition bc kuna def wants to fuck you, possessive! nanami, crybaby! vessel! reader, use and variations of the word slut, established dom/sub dynamic, hole inspection, light masochism, dacryphilia, shower sex, minor daddy / sir k., implied age gap n zero prep . ✦ . wc — 1.5k . ✦ . notes — less of a fic more of a lengthy thirst bc i'm still sick but i really wanted to deliver somethin for you guys so forgive me this once 💔 happy holidays 🎄

it’s 6:15 p.m. when nanami wanders into your garden, still clad in his work attire. the first two buttons of his shirt are undone, his tie hanging loosely around his collar, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. he’s somewhere in between tired and exhausted; dark circles rimming his almost sunken eyes but he’s not quite ready to pass out yet. he won’t give in to the heaviness of his eyes until he sees you.

and he does see you — you’re crouched in a corner, knees buried in a miniature mountain of soil, completely and utterly enthralled by the flowers in front of you.

orchids. a dark pink in the centre, although their petals are a light pink that fades into a pink-stained white colour. they vary in intensity but altogether, they’re beautiful and pink.

“they’re resilient little things, aren’t they?” he muses, his voice thick with drowsiness. which catches you entirely off-guard and has you flinching away, scraping the palm of your hand on a nearby rose bush in the process.

you wince, brows pulled together and lips jutting forward in a pout. nanami feels his heart drop, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach instantaneously.

“fuck,” he curses, a rough edge to his voice, “i’m sorry my love,” as he crouches beside you, cradling your injured hand in his much bigger, warmer palms. it’s not nearly as bad as it seemed at first; a singular scrape stretching across the expanse of your palm. but nanami does his due diligence, wiping away what little blood had appeared with his handkerchief.

“i should’ve made my—” he stops himself mid-sentence and lowers his gaze, arching a brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. “…presence known” he continues, staring pointedly at the tent in your shorts.

warmth creeps up your throat, spreading across the bridge of your nose to either cheek and the tips of your ears as you promptly cross your legs. to which nanami presses his lips together, blowing air through his nostrils.

“that — ” he starts, grimacing, “that must be uncomfortable,” as he takes a seat on the dirt floor of the greenhouse and pulls you into his lap. and you open your mouth to protest against it; he’s going to ruin his favourite slacks. but he presses a long, thick finger to your lips before you can get a word out.

he clicks his tongue, his tone morphing from the saccharine sweetness that you’re used to. nanami isn’t, by any means, harsh with you but his near-silent disapproval is enough to have you curling into yourself.

“i’m sorry,” the words tumble past your glossy lips before you even process them. and nanami responds immediately: “i’m sorry who?” his voice becomes more and more like a rumble as tiredness continues to pull at his sore muscles. but you humour him anyway, “i’m sorry sir,” which earns you a much more content-sounding rumble from the elder man.

“that’s my boy — now let’s get you taken care of inside where it’s warmer.”

skin–to–skin; nanami’s pressed firmly against you and you can’t keep your hands to yourself. cold fingers instinctively go to the curves and contours of his muscled torso; tracing the outline of it all while you chew on your lower lip. it’s hard to tell who’s more enamoured by the other but if you had to think about it (like really hard) you’d say nanami is.

“what are you thinking so hard about silly boy?”

your nose crinkles and a muscle in nanami’s jaw twitches at the sound of the third voice. it’s nothing like the silky-smooth voice that makes your heart flip-flop in your chest. but it has its appeal and is welcomed nevertheless.

“‘kuna i’m not —” you try but he interjects: “liar.” and you have half the mind to argue with him but nanami clears his throat, thick finger curling beneath your chin so that you’re made to meet his gaze.

he’s staring down at you, warm water from the shower overhead dripping from the edges of his hair. his gaze intent as he pushes you against the cold tiles on the wall. there’s a stark contrast between the two temperatures; one that makes goosebumps appear on your skin and provides a twisted sense of pleasure. but that too is welcomed.

“none of that,” and he clicks his tongue again, his distaste for the mouth that had appeared on the back of your palm as clear as day. sukuna, though, grits his teeth and you can’t help but think to yourself that the only thing they have in common is their distaste for each other.

“your blind devotion to a man who could never satiate you is beyond my comprehension,” sukuna smirks, “a slut like you needs a real man to fuck them right.”

a slut.

an onslaught of tears blurs your vision and nanami leans in, warm breath fanning your face. then he sucks in another breath, taking in the floral scent of your shampoo, before exhaling slowly. “did you hear that baby? ‘kuna thinks you’re a slut.” he whispers, emphasizing the nickname in the most condescending way he could. and you nod quietly, obediently in response. staring up at him with those big, innocent eyes of yours that looks the prettiest when it’s wet with unshed tears.

“i know my boy’s got a greedy hole on him,” he continues matter–of–factly, “i mean look at his cock, started leaking back in the greenhouse ‘cause of my voice and now it’s fully hard because you called him a slut.”  completely unbothered by the quiet whimper you let out. 

and silence — sukuna doesn’t say anything, lips pulled into a tight line. but this does little to discourage nanami who spins you around so that you’re pressed against the tiles, sensitive pecs to glazed clay and your back to him. then he’s pulling your legs apart, spreading your cheeks so that your winking hole is exposed to him.

“in fact, let’s both look at this slutty hole that i fill with my cum as often as i like because, if i recall correctly, you’re resigned to watching.��

quiet whimpers that bounce off of the tiles turn into sultry mewls. he’s being so mean, his voice dropping by an octave or two, and it makes your cock throb. he’s crouching behind you so that he’s at eye–level with your hole and you can’t help but gasp when a thick finger is pressed against it. then he pushes it in, it’s dry and it burns but it’s (like everything else) welcomed without complaint.

“do you see that?” nanami asks, it’s a rhetorical question and even then, not directed at you whatsoever but you find yourself nodding along to whatever he says anyway. “the way it winks at me? that’s because it missed me and the way that it stretches and clenches around me? that’s because i’m the only one who can touch him like this.”

 sultry mewls turn into pornographic sobs. the way that he describes everything has your stomach in knots. it’s no longer a want but rather a need. you need him inside of you but he’s taught you better than this — you need to use your words to get what you want.

so, you do, voice breathy as you try to form words in between needy cries. salty tears trickling down your warm cheeks as you string a sentence together. “i need you,” you croak, glancing over your shoulder at him, lips quivering.

and he coos at the sight of you, removing his finger before standing upright and cupping your cheeks. “that’s right, look at daddy, only i can make you feel better, hm?” to which you nod in response and his smile widens, “where do you need me, my love? show daddy.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you nod again — immediately spreading yourself wide open with your fingers. presenting yourself like this to him, tears and all, is second nature to you. it comes naturally which he thoroughly enjoys.

and nanami groans at the sight of your hole as if it’s his first time seeing you like this and within seconds, he’s aligning the angry tip with your entrance. he brings his lips to your ears, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending warmth to your crotch. “it’s going to hurt a little,” he warns, leaning forward to press gentle kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he pushes himself inside.

he was right, it does hurt. it hurts like a bitch and it takes some time for you to adjust. nanami’s just so big; he makes you feel so full. but after he bottoms out and slowly finds his rhythm you know you’re a goner. pain and pleasure — you don’t know where one ends and the other begins but it feels good nevertheless.

you’re content babbling as he pistons his hips, balls colliding with the curve of your ass every time he thrusts into you. it’s all you need and all it takes for your cock to begin spurting ropes of cum as he assaults your prostate.

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ i want you to cry, cry for me

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — jealous!anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — anakin's jealousy gets the best of him once again and you have no choice but to punish him

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 2k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, toxic!ani, smut ( sub!ani, degradation, reader calling ani a slut, hair pulling, ani crying for 90% of the fic, cock stepping, nipple play, biting, bondage, begging, dry humping, hand jobs, edging, dacryphilia, oral f receiving, face sitting, cuming untouched, panties as a gag, overstilmulation, face slapping, cock slapping, cum as lube ) holy fuck that's a lot

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — i never usually write subby male characters so i had some fun with this, hope you enjoy !

part one part two masterlist

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“you are in so much trouble,” you spat the moment you enter your and anakin’s shared apartment, anakin trailed behind you, head cast downwards, “seriously, anakin, i talk to my coworker for two seconds and you come over throwing a hissy fit? try grabbing my ass in front of my boss and his husband?” you growled and anakin whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself, “what do you have to say for yourself?” you demanded. 

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice thick but he refused to look up, eyes remaining fixed on his shoes, a frustrated groan fell from your lips as you walked over to him, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up to face you, his pretty blue eyes were glassy, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto his white shirt, glasses hazy from condensation. he hissed at the sensation of his hair being pulled, lips trembling. 

“i’m so sorry,” you imitated with a scowl and anakin let out a sob, “that’s all you have to say?” you questioned, “god, anakin, you are fucking pathetic,” you tell him, letting go of his hair and storming through the apartment. still, anakin is quick to follow you, stumbling over his own feet as you walk into the living room, tossing your coat and bag down, massaging your temples. 

“no, no,” anakin cried, “please, i mean it, i didn’t want to upset you,” he told you, “i was just, he was so close to you and…” 

“oh my god,” you screamed, whirling around to face him and anakin looked stricken, not expecting your outburst and more sobs came tumbling from his lips, he brought his hands up, wiping away the sticky tear tracks but they were quickly replaced with new ones. “we shook hands, that was it, and you come over acting like a bitch in heat,” you grind out, “do you want to embarrass me in front of everyone? is that your goal, want to make me look stupid with my boyfriend who can’t control his needy cock?” 

“that’s not it!” anakin cried, dropping onto his knees before you and wrapping his arms around your legs, clinging to you desperately, “please, i’ll be good, don’t leave me,” he begged, burying his face into your thigh. 

“you haven’t been a very good boy though have you, ani?” you asked him coldly, “i warned you, and you promised you would stop, why did you lie to me, huh? speak up, angel,” anakin’s head snapped back, eyes wide and lips parted, his tongue darted out wetting his lips as he took a shuddering breath. 

“i… um… i, i didn’t…” words seemed to escape him, his pupils blown wide beneath his glasses, his mouth opened and closed multiple times, only gasps escaping. 

“what got nothing to say now? that’s a shame, baby boy, guess i’m just gonna have to punish you,” you shrugged, leaning down and grasping his shoulders pushing him off of you, anakin hadn’t been expecting this, his body falling backward and colliding with the floor with a thud while you watched in disinterest. “pathetic,” you said with a roll of your eyes before your gaze fell, seeing the bulge in his slacks, a small laugh escaped your lips, “are you hard right now?” you asked him with wide eyes, “are you serious?” you giggled and anakin whined, crimson staining his sticky cheeks. 

“god you are such a slut, getting off on me telling you off,” you said, stepping closer and placing your foot on his chest, holding him in place. 

“didn’t… didn’t mean to,” anakin hiccuped, but he looked up at you with that look in his eyes, so full of desperation and longing.

“what did i say about lying, angel?” you asked him sternly, cocking a sharp brown. 

“no, no, i really didn’t mean it you just look so pretty when you’re angry, and you called me… called me a slut and i, i couldn’t help it,” he babbled head shaking frantically. 

“i forgot you were such a whore for degradation, gets your cock all excited even when you’re in trouble,” you scoffed, “do you think you deserve to cum after how you acted, ani?” you asked him with a raised brow. 

“yes, yes, wanna make you feel good, let me come, let me fuck you,” he begged from where he lay on the floor, you pursed your lips, slowly dragging your foot down anakin’s chest, tracing along the plains of his ab’s before finally reaching his crotch, pressing down lightly on the bulge there, anakin gasped, rocking his hips upwards. 

“stop,” you told him harshly, pressing down harder and anakin cried out. “you fucking like this? you like me stepping on your cock, god, ani,” you said, watching as he writhed beneath you. 

“i’m sorry,” anakin cried out, hands coming up and clutching the carpet, his face was still flushed and tears continued to flow, you decided to have mercy on him, pressing your foot down one more time making him screech before pulling back. 

“get up,” you commanded him, anakin scrambled upwards, stumbling slightly as he rose on shaky legs, almost falling into you but you grabbed his shoulders, “good boy,” you cooed and anakin’s face lit up. “now go into the bedroom and get on the bed,” you told him and he indeed quickly, rushing from the room. you followed him, watching as he kicked his shoes off and tumbled onto the bed. you climbed onto the bed after him, straddling his hips. 

“baby?” anakin whispered. 

“hush, now,” you told him, hands coming up and trailing over his shirt-clad chest, hovering over his nipples and tweaking them slightly, grinning when anakin whimpered. you carried on, pinching harder, rolling the nubs between your fingertips, anakin’s mouth fell agape, his hands coming up to grasp your hips. “did i say you could touch?” you asked him with a raised brow. 

“i… no but i,” you didn’t listen to his excuses, simply shaking your head, moving to untie his tie, unlooping it from around his neck. 

“keep thinking you are gonna be a good boy and then you just don’t listen,” you sighed sadly, “guess you can’t be trusted right now,” you tell him, grabbing his arms and pulling them up so they are above his head, you then loop his tie around them before securing them to the headboard. “that’s better,” you said with a satisfied smile, leaning back on your heels. 

“oh…” anakin said, titling his head to look at his now secured hands, he pulled his arms slightly but they remained in their holding, when he turned back to face you, his pupils were completely blown, you could hardly see his irises beneath the darkness. you then began to unbutton his shirt, leaving it open so that you could see his nipples, they were hard and rosy making you smile, leaning down and captured one between your teeth and bit down, anakin hissed. “fuck, baby, what…” 

“shh,” you crooned as you switched to his other nipple giving it the same treatment before pulling away satisfied. you took your own clothes off, tugging your top over your head and unclasping your bra, then shimmying your skirt down your hips leaving you in only your panties, anakin leaned up, trying to hold you but his arms jolted against the restraints, he looked up at you with large pleading eyes. “you really think that's gonna work on me, angel?” you asked him. 

“just wanna feel you,” he pleaded but you shook your head. 

“you don’t deserve to touch me, been so naughty today, anakin,” you scolded, dragging your hips along his groin, “wanna tell me why?”

“i’m… i,” he tried to say but his voice fell short. 

“tell me,” you pressed, rocking harder against him, hand coming up to his throat, holding it tightly, forcing him to look at you. 

“i… i embarrassed you in front of your boss,” he gasped out. 

“and,” you continued with a nod of your head. 

“and, i lied, didn’t listen to you, i… i got turned on when you were telling me off, please, i’m sorry, fuck,” he begged, rocking his hips. 

“good boy,” you smiled, releasing his neck and patting his cheek. you climbed off of him and unbuckled his belt before tugging his slacks down, his cock sprang free, bright red and weeping as it lay against his stomach. “oh, angel, looks sore,” you cooed, reaching out and stroking it gently, circling your thumb around the tip. 

“yes, yes,” anakin gasped. 

“feel good?” you asked him sweetly. 

“so good,” anakin nodded, and you smiled, jerking your hand up and down, using his precum as lube, he sighed in relief, head falling back against the pillow, and you giggled, continuing to play with his cock until he was squirming and crying, crystalline tears dripping down his cheeks. you felt him pulsing in your hand, so you pulled away and stared at him, waiting for him to react. 

“what?” he gaped, “no, please, i was so close,” he sobbed. 

“poor baby,” you snickered, “but you don’t get to come yet,” you shrugged, “haven’t proved how sorry you are have you, darling,” 

“what can i do? please, i’ll do anything,” he pleaded with you, sitting up against his restraints, his shoulders tensing, muscles rippling, you bit down on your lip appreciatively, you could feel the wetness staining your panties and an idea sprung in your mind so you tugged your panties down and dropped them on the bed.

“lay back,” you instructed, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him back down, crawling up his body and balancing over his chest, “you are gonna eat me out, okay?” you prompted and anakin nodded eagerly and you were balancing over his face, core pressing against anakin’s plush lips. instantly anakin dove in, burying his face against your sopping head, tongue burying into your gummy walls. he was relentless, slick dripping down his chin as he consumed you. “yes, angel,” you gasped, hands gripping the headboard as you sank deeper onto him, thighs pressing around his face, holding him in place. you could feel his arms pressing against you, but he couldn’t use them to hold your hips as he loved to, instead, you were fully in control. 

“so good,” you murmured, rocking your hips against his mouth, sinking into the feeling of his tongue inside of you, trailing up your slit, and suckling on your clit. anakin whimpered against your core sending vibrations through you. “fuck,” you gasped, “i’m gonna cum soon,” you say, grinding harder against anakin’s mouth, your words seemed to prompt him to burry deeper inside of you, tongue probing at your walls, curling upwards against you, your head fell backwards as you drew closer. “yes, yes, oh my god,” you screamed as you came all over anakin’s face, chest heaving as you came around and pulled back only to meet anakin’s guilty look. 

“what?” you say curiously, turning around and seeing anakin’s spent cock laying against his stomach, streams of sticky white cum staining his stomach. “anakin?” you asked him lowly. 

“i’m sorry!” anakin sobbed, “i couldn’t help it,” you shook your head at him, settling on his chest. 

“can’t do anything right,” you spat, raising your hand and slapping his harshly, he whined at the sensation, looking at you with wide eyes. “i tell you, you can’t cum yet and you do it while i’m not looking, fucking pathetic,” you slap him again and this time anakin moaned. “shut up, i don’t wanna hear you,” you hissed, “you know what, i’m not giving you a choice,” you tell him, grabbing your panties from the bed and shoving them in his mouth, he choked slightly around the fabric but other than that he stayed silent, simply watching you. you moved down the bed so that you were between his legs, grasping his cock and holding it tightly, his whimper came out muffled as you let it drop down into his stomach, already chubbing up once again. 

“getting hard already, angel?” you asked, landing a slap on his cock, the scream he let out ripped through his gag and you smirked, “hurt?” you asked him curiously and he nodded furiously, tears leaking down his face and onto his neck, nose running as he kicked his legs helplessly. “that’s a shame isn’t it,” you said, slowly beginning to pump his cock, once he was fully hard you stopped and slapped him once again. anakin babbled against the panties in his mouth, begging, pleading maybe, you weren’t sure as you slapped him once again, watching as a small burst of cum spurted from his tip. you rose your brow at him and he shook his head quickly, drool dripping down the side of his mouth. 

“good boy,” you murmured, looking at his cock still straining harshly, “stay like this for me okay, angel,” you said before standing up from the bed and heading to the door, “i’ll be back later,” you hummed, leaving anakin alone in the bedroom voice muffled by your panties, hands tied to the headboard and cock throbbing and weeping as he waited for you to return.

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

this shit was wild lmao

tags: @johnbassplayercutie @st4rfckerz @titaniasfairy

[aerynwrites]

Simple

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

A/N: the absolute feral nature I have been spitting out fics has been wild. I think i've hit 3 fandoms in the past three weeks and i just...idk wtf is going on lol. I will definitely be revisiting this character though bc..I LOVE HIM YOUR HONOR!!! Hope you all enjoy <3

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: graphic depictions of injuries, blood and gore, canon typical violence, nightmares, mentions of death and dying, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to be simple. It was simple. A simple exfil mission, in and out - one and done. It’s the only reason they’d asked you to come along. 

You’re a base medic. Well, technically you’re a field medic too, but you mainly stay on the base. Tend to soldiers there - it’s what you’re good at. 

You aren’t supposed to be here, in the middle of the desert in a humvee now flipping through the air as if time has slowed down. 

It was supposed to be simple. 

The explosion hit without warning, sudden and all at once just as Soap was telling some stupid joke. Just as Ghost was smacking the back of his helmet. Just as you were all laughing after a successful mission with no injuries for you to even worry about. 

It felt like you flew hundreds of feet up in the air. The explosion knocking the wind from your lungs as the humvee is sent careening skywards. Loose items - rifles, packs, abandoned helmets…they all become projectiles inside the crammed space. 

It feels like you’re watching it all in slow motion, your friends bodies being thrown against their seatbelts like rag dolls. The world outside tumbling around you all. The way an arm slings across to cover you, as if that will stop the inevitable. 

Then it’s all over in an instant.

Metal screeches against metal, screams of agony cut short, glass shattering, fire roaring, the smell of burnt oil, and then-

Silence.

Silence, except the ringing ion your ears. Silence, except for the vacant thud of rubber against metal as you slam your boot into the vehicles door.

Silence when you call out their names. 

Complete and utter silence as you step out into the inky black night of the desert, the only light being that of the moon and the fire around you. 

“Lieutenant Riley!” You call out, your comms busted, “Report!”

Your voice is muffled to your ears, and for a moment you hope that he is calling back to you and you just can’t hear it. But as you squint through your swimming vision, the eery stillness of the overturned humvee makes panic settle in your chest. 

“Captain Price, status!”

More silence. 

FUCK!

You’re lurching back to the humvee before you can think about it, reaching in and grabbing the first tactical vest you can latch onto. 

It’s Soap. 

It’s your friend that never ceases to make you laugh. It’s John ‘Soap’ McTavish and he has a fucking pice of metal sticking out of his abdomen and he’s not - oh thank fuck, he’s breathing. 

You pull him several yards away from the crash, ever aware of the smell of gasoline filling the air and - 

You have to get the others.

You pull them all out of the smoking wreckage. 

One, two, three, four-

Price, Gaz, one of the drivers (DOA) and-

Ghost.

Ghost is the last one you pull out and you’re all the way to the others when he blissfully regains some semblance of consciousness, but you aren’t even able to dwell on that. Wide eyes flickering to everyone else who’s either unconcious or dead or about to be-

“Sergent!”

The booming voice startles you from where you dazedly stand over the bodies of the team, and you can’t even find it in you to respond. 

Before you were working on autopilot - get them out, get them away from the wreck, assess, form a plan…

But now it’s all gone out the goddamn window. 

You’re not a fucking field medic. You can’t do this. Your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing through your veins, chest heaving with breaths you can’t even take. 

The shrapnel in Soap leaves a red stain getting bigger by the second. Price’s arm is bent at an unnatural angle, blood trickling down the side of his head. Gaz’s leg looks like minced meat, bright white bone protruding from-

The world spins on its axis as two strong hands grip the straps of your vest, turning you around to face a very bloodied and angry Lieutenant.

“Sergent I expect a fucking answer when I talk to you!”

You shake your head, Ghost’s voice a million miles away. And only now do you seem to register the warmth trickling down your face, dripping into your eyes, you reach a hand up, fingers coming away red and sticky with blood. Your blood -

“I-I can’t do this,” you manage to whisper, voice pitching higher as the panic sets in further. “I can’t fucking do this-”

A harsh jerk from the man before you startles you slightly back into focus, head swimming again as a gloved hand comes to grip your chin in a firm grip. 

Dark eyes capture your own through the all too familiar mask, and you can feel the heat of his breath on your face from where he stands so close. 

“Pull it together,” he bites, gaze cold yet somehow not completely unkind. “You’re here. Which means you were picked for a reason. So quit your bloody whimpering and help them!”

He shoves you away from them with those final words, pushing your medical pack into your arms as he does so.

“Save them,” he says, pointing behind you to his team, your friends. “That’s an order, sergeant.”

So you do the only thing you can think to do in this moment. 

You follow orders. 

———

Six hours. 

Six hours is how long it took for a med evac to show up. Six hours of patching up your unit. Six hours of watching, praying they didn’t succumb to their wounds. Six hours of you and Ghost waiting for the enemies to show up and finish you off. 

Six hours of life and death. 

You should be thankful it was the former. 

Yet, you’re finding it hard to give thanks. 

It’s hard to be grateful when sleep evades you, nightmares pouring in like a raging river - blood filling your vision both waking and sleeping. 

Even weeks after, you can’t look any of the 141 in the eye. They’ve all thanked you, seeking you out after they woke up. Price’s smile huge, clapping you on the back but always careful to avoid his arm that’s in the sling. Soap tried to hug you when you were summoned to his hospital room, but the wince of pain from his bandaged up abdomen wouldn’t let him. Gaz even sought you out on his own, hobbling on his crutches ‘thank you’s’ falling from his lips like rain.

Thank you for what? You had to stop yourself from asking. 

You were a coward. A bloody fucking coward that was ready to let them lay there and bleed out. They’d all be dead if it wasn’t for Ghost snapping you out of a panic like a parent yelling at their child.

Ghost…

You have yet to see him since the incident with of you being hauled away to medical as soon as you landed. And at this point you can’t tell if he’s avoiding you or you’re avoiding him.

Maybe both. 

————

The nightmares are constant since you’v returned, but they’ve never been like this one. 

Tonight’s is the worst. 

In all the other’s it was just a replay if what happened except maybe you were hurt too or frozen and unable to move, but…tonight’s is different. 

The scene in front of of you is familiar but worse. So much worse. Price, Gaz, and Soap all lay before you in the sand, blood pooling around them, except this time they’re not breathing. That steady rise and fall of their chests is missing and their glassy too-fa- gone gazes stare blankly up at you. 

Blood rushes in your ears, heart thudding out of control in your chest and when you try to reach out to save them - to help them - your body simple won’t move. And when you blink there’s another body there this time, black and white skull balaclava staring up at you now too, that disappointed look etched permanently on his brow. 

No, no, no…

You try to reach out again, but that same invisible force clings to you, and this term you feel it creeping upwards, starting at your feet and crawling up your legs. 

You blink again and they’re all standing in front of you, blood covering them eyes still glassy as they circle around you.

“How can you just stand there?” Soap asks, voice broken and angry from behind you.

“We need help, sergeant!” Price’s voice is next from where he stands in front of you.

“Help us-”Gaz…

“Snap out of it!”

Ghosts voice is loudest of all, and finally you’re able to move, only to see the teams face swirling around you, insults and cries for help filling your ears, drowning out everything else. It all blurs into one, voice melding together in a morbid cacophony of cries. Your hands snap up to your ears, desperate to escape from the onslaught only for two stronger hands to drip your wrists keeping you from relief.

“Oh no,” Ghosts voice oozes malice. “You’re not escaping that easy.”

You close your eyes, not daring to look at the bodies around you, at the manifestation of your failure. 

“Wake up!”

The words seem deafening before it’s like a bucket if ice cold water being dumped onto you. Your throat aches as you launch yourself upwards in bed, body drenched in your own sweat as hands collide with a solid mass in front of you. 

Hands grab you again, and you can’t stop the way you flinch reeling backwards in an attempt to get free. 

“Let go!” You cry, salt on your lips as you realize you’re crying. 

“Stop, stop - it’s me, I-it’s Simon, now-” a harsh jerk of your arms shakes you out of your panic, just alike all those nights ago. “Stop!”

Simon?

Your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, and though it takes you a moment to realize where you are, you relax ever so slightly when you recognize the familiarity of your quarters. The bed beneath you, sheets tangled haphazardly around your legs. The bedside table, the book you were reading, the window across the room with faint moonlight streaming in, the clock reading 2am, Simon sitting next you hands still wrapped tightly around your wrists-

Wait…Simon?

Your mind repeats his name over and over, and as of sensing your’ve come back down his grip on you loosens as he speaks. 

“Back with me?”

You shake your head, still reeling from your nightmare, heart still pounding chest heaving as you take in deep shuddering breaths. 

“What…what are you doing here?” You ask, voice small as you speak through the tears. 

Simon shrugs, looking away from you now as he lets your arms go entirely. 

“Heard screaming,” he says simply. “Worse than usual. Went on longer.”

He doesn’t offer much else, and it’s in this moment of thick silence that you are finally able to see past the tears to really look at him. It’s hard in the darkness, but your eyes have adjusted enough to see the white bandages still wrapped around his right arm, a result of the nasty gash he’d sustained in the crash. You can even still see the remnants of the head injury too, the skin above his right eye much darker than the rest of his face. Mottled with bruises and stitches…

In fact, it’s only now you realize he’d come to you with his mask off - which, what’s underneath doesn’t wholly surprise you considering you’ve seen it before, being a medic and all but it switches something inside of you. 

Him laying himself bare to you, coming to you in the middle of the night to check on you after everything you’ve done. Everything you failed to do…

The damn breaks and the tears flow freely once more as your shoulders shake with harsh sobs. 

“I can’t do this,” you cry out, curling in on yourself as Simon reaches for you once more, confusion etched into his features. 

“Can’t do what? What are you-”

“This!” You sob, gesturing around you wildly. “I’m not meant to be here. Not after…not after what happened-”

A sharp intake of breath cuts you off as your lungs struggle for air against your cries but Simon doesn’t stop you. Warm hands just fall to rest lightly on the tops of your thighs, as you cry, anchoring you here. 

“I failed them. I failed you-”

“Hey.” His voice is firm, his patience wearing thin as he watches you fall apart in front of you. “I won’t hear any of that.”

You shake your head, aware now that his hands have moved up to cradle your face is his calloused palms, thumbs wiping futilely at your tears. 

“But it’s true,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I’m a coward.”

Thick fingers press into your jaw, not enough to hurt but enough to bring some alertness back into your emotion fogged brain. 

“Would a coward have pulled four men twice their size from a burning wreckage?” He asks, breath warm against your cheek from how close he sits. 

“Would a coward have kept four men alive in the field with barely enough medical supplies?”

You open you mouth to argue, tell him that it only happened once he ordered you to do it, but he persists, not letting you speak. 

“Would a coward have sat there for six fucking hours keeping her men alive under the threat of enemy fire?”

He pauses then, eyes searching your own and giving you a firm shake when you don’t respond. 

“Would a bloody fucking coward have done that?”

His voice is uncharacteristically soft for the words he speaks, and before you can think, you find yourself saying the first thing that comes to mind. 

“No…” the word is barely audible, whimpered out softly. 

But Simon hears you. Because, of course he does. 

On hand slides form you cheek back to tangle in your hair as he pulls you towards him, cradling your face in the crook of his neck.

“No. They wouldn’t have,” he affirms, moving to wrap his other arm tightly around your middle as your cries finally start to subside. 

“Now,” he says after a while, arms never leaving you, “can that coward nonsense and try to get some sleep.”

You watch in slight confusion as he pulls away only to adjust himself to lay next to in the bed, tugging the covers to readjust them from where you’d tossed them away in your sleep induced panic. You want to ask what he’s doing - tell him that he doesn’t have to stay but he seems to read your mind - or rather your hesitance as you watch him.

He pauses just as he’s lifting the covers, eyes finding yours in the dark. 

“You want me to leave?” 

You shake your head almost immediately, the last thing you want is to be alone. 

“No, I just…” you trail off, moving to slip beneath the sheets.

There’s a small moment where both of you pause, neither of you quite sure what to do or how far to go. You’re the first to break the momentary tension, scooting so you’re pressed against his front, hands against his chest as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You feel as he lets out a deep sigh, one arm slipping beneath the pillow you rest on while the other moves to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you, Simon,” you whisper.

His arm tightens around you, and you swear you feel his lips brush against the top of your head. 

“Anytime, love.”

And for the first time in weeks, you both slip into a dreamless slumber.