#these two are the only thing giving me solace right now
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princessmyriad · 13 days ago
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#personal#it feels like im not allowed to complain about my own life on my own blog#or at least that if im allowed to that it seems very firstworld problem very selfish very not appropriate with all thats going on#that people will and do think less of me for expressing my own sadness and frustrations because theres no way it compares#to a lot of peoples very big and very real problems#but im so fucking sick of being poor and small. all ive had to eat today is 2min noodles roughly 10 hours ago#and all ill get tomorrow is a bowl of 2min noodles but ittl be another 15 or so hours until its the most reasonable to eat that#thats the real girlmath and then thats the last of my noodles. that leaves me with one (1) small tin of tuna#which might end up being tonights intermediary food if i really cant wait 15 nore hours for my next noodles but is supposed to be#the one meal of the day after tomorrow. so if i eat it too soon then i have even more time that i just dont fucking eat#im so sick to death of being in this position. like its literally killing me and theres fuck all i can do to make it better#ive tried. and i try and i try and i try but i can never afford anything#my landagent keeps sending me textx asking when theyll see a patment for my $50 water bill#i have to stop myself from texting back every time. youll see payment when im not spending literally 75% of my pay on rent alone#when i can afford to buy food and bills at the same time. whn i dont feel like kms-ing would be better than paying you my rent every frtnite#i crave a burger so bad i cant make myself do any tasks. i cant start or continue any crafts or chores because all im thinking about#is a burger like a blorbo rotating in my mind alongside the background noise that i wont get a burger and will only get noodles but not for#hours. a whole days worth of hours almost#my shitawful roomate is back and i have to play nice but he gives me the same feelings my abusive mother did. im scared to leave my room#in the safeplace house ive spent the last two years building for myself. this feels awful. things were all going so right and now#all of a sudden theyre all going as wrong as possible and im struggling so much. with no one to help. no one cares enough to help#the few people i do have are wrapped up in their own lives. which i get. but it doesnt take away the hurt of dealing with it all alone again#lot of momma trauma coming up with the end of eclipse season and i thought i was handling it. now i just feel fucking awful all the time#like ik healing isnt linear but the roomate triggers so hard things i thought i had processed and was on top of#would a burger fix that? no but itd atleast give me something to emotionally lean on for strength though it. but all ive got is noodles#24 hour apart one meal per day noodles. and tomorrow is my last pack. my only solace lately is that ive been invited to my first ever rave#or my first real rave anyway ive only been to one other 'edm event' that was not really a rave of any scale it was like 25 people#but its a halloween rave so im hoping for spooky fun dancetimes at least theres that. im out of data and spotifyprem so i havent been able#to take my silly little mental health walks bc theres zero chance im doing that without music and so itll be noce to get outside fr the rave#anyway. im doing very poorly i appreciate you few who reached out while i wasnt active but i expect ill continue to do poorly for some time
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connorsui · 2 months ago
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In Your Arms
Zayne x reader
Genre/warnings: pure fluff, boyfriend zayne wanting peace and you give it, manz wanna make u a wife, no warnings we don't die around here...
Synopsis: Zayne finds solace in the warmth of your presence amidst the chaos of his demanding career, and silently, he cherishes every moment, hoping one day to make your bond official
Note: I wanted doctor zayne to cure my heart ....so I made doctor zayne want to make me a wife ...
w.c: 1,070
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Zayne’s footsteps echoed softly in the sterile, dimly lit hospital corridor, his mind still entangled in the complexities of the latest surgery he’d performed. His shoulders were tense, a slight frown creasing his usually composed expression as he made his way out of the building. It had been another long day, filled with the kind of high-stakes decisions that most people couldn’t fathom. But as soon as he saw you waiting for him by the entrance, your face lighting up at the sight of him, something in him softened.
The sight of you there, with your soft smile and eyes that sparkled just for him, made the world tilt back into place. The weight of the day fell away, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply bask in the warmth of your presence. He didn’t need to say anything; the way his eyes lingered on you, tracing the curve of your lips and the gentle slope of your shoulders, spoke volumes.
“Hi, Love! ” you greeted him, your voice a gentle balm to his frayed nerves.
“Hello, Sweetheart” he replied, his tone low and warm, the single word carrying a weight of unspoken affection. His hands itched to reach out, to pull you into his arms right there in front of everyone, but Zayne had always been careful with his emotions, especially in public. Instead, he settled for a small, almost imperceptible smile that you had come to recognize as his version of a bear hug.
The two of you walked in comfortable silence, the soft rustle of your clothing the only sound in the quiet night air. It wasn’t until you were inside his car, the doors closed, and the world shut out, that he allowed himself the luxury of touch. His hand reached out, fingers lightly grazing yours before he intertwined them, the simple gesture grounding him in a way nothing else could.
“I would like to first apologize to you …” he murmured after a few minutes, his voice laced with the kind of guilt that came from too many late nights and missed dinners.
Surprised; you questioned. “What for exactly?”
“I just know I haven’t been around much.”
You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, offering him a soft, understanding smile. “Zayne, It's alright… I know you’re doing everything you can…But…let's focus on the now.. is there anything I can do to make your night better?”
He turned his head to look at you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of fatigue or frustration. Instead, he found only warmth and concern, your eyes silently urging him to let you take care of him for once. The tension in his chest eased a fraction, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Just being with you makes everything better,” he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of the day. “I don’t need anything else… just you.”
The ride to his apartment was filled with quiet conversation, the kind that flowed easily between two people who were entirely comfortable with each other. When you arrived, Zayne wasted no time pulling you close as soon as the door clicked shut behind you. His arms wrapped around you, his head resting on your chest as he exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to relax.
“You’re so tense,” you murmured, your fingers instinctively threading through his hair, the familiar motion soothing both of you. “Why don’t you let me run you a bath? Or make you some tea?”
He tightened his hold on you, shaking his head slightly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “No, just… this is what I need. You’re what I need.”
The way he clung to you, as if letting go would mean losing the one thing keeping him grounded, made your heart ache with a mix of love and concern. He was always so strong, so capable, but even Zayne had his limits, and you could see that he’d reached them tonight.
“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you suggested softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “You deserve to rest.”
He nodded against you, and you led him to his bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. Zayne moved with a quiet grace, his every action deliberate as he turned to face you, his hands settling on your waist.
“I’m sorry I’m not more… put together tonight,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours.
“You don’t have to be anything other than yourself with me,” you whispered back, your hands coming up to cup his face. “I love you just as you are, Zayne.”
His breath hitched slightly at your words, and he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart swell with emotion. There was no rush, no urgency—just the deep, abiding love that had grown between you over time, steady and unshakable.
When he pulled back, his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his eyes meeting yours in silent question. You nodded, and he carefully lifted your shirt over your head, his hands warm against your skin as he undressed you with the same precision he used in surgery.
Once you were both stripped down; Zayne pulled you into bed, his arms wrapping around you as he settled you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear as you laid together in the quiet.
“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his lips brushing the top of your head.
“It’s perfect,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.
Zayne smiled against your hair, his hold on you tightening slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. In that moment, with you wrapped up in his arms, he felt complete, as if all the pieces of his life had finally fallen into place.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “ — to be here with you… it’s all I need.”
You nestled closer, your heart swelling with love for the man who had given so much of himself to others, yet asked for so little in return. “I’m here, Zayne. I’m always here.”
As you drifted off to sleep, Zayne couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted this—wanted you—every day for the rest of his life. And one day, he would make that dream a reality. But for now, he was content to hold you close, savoring the warmth of your body against his as he followed you into sleep.
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Doctor zayne with a need for you is the only man I will ever need
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twilightakiishi · 6 months ago
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—NIGHT LIGHT ⋆.˚ ☾
hanma is a childish grumpy baby when he’s been woken up. 0.5k wc ノ fluff ノ a little suggestive.
cw: no pronouns used, hanma calls reader doll and baby, brief mentions of a previous blowjob & free use.
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“doll…” his low grumble comes from beside you as he shakes your shoulder a bit.
you barely glance in his direction as you scroll on your phone. “yes, shuji?” 
“turn the damn light off.”
“huh? there aren’t any lights on.”
he lays there with his eyes still shut a few seconds before he cracks one open and points out the window with a childish grunt. 
you stifle a laugh, “…that’s a street lamp.”
“…huh? for what? why is it on?” he’s clearly half asleep, and a little incoherent. you know you’re safe to giggle as much as you want when he’s like this. 
“so people can see.”
he pouts, throwing an arm over his eyes, “ugh, it’s like, 3am, nobody needs to see anything right now.”
“actually shu, it’s only midnight. and, if i hadn’t sucked you comatose, I’m sure you would be one of the hooligans out and about at this hour.” 
“….close the curtain, doll.”
“no. it’s like a night light, and–
he scoffs, “what do ya need a night light for? dontcha trust me to protect you?”
he wants to bite back and tell you that he doesn’t need a night light, not because he isn’t a little afraid of the dark, but because he feels so safe next to you.
“–and it helps me wake up in the morning when the sun comes through,” you deadpan.
another thing he won’t tell you is how he doesn’t need the sun that streams in through the window every morning; the sight of your sleeping figure beside him is enough. 
but it’s midnight, apparently, and he’s not feeling the type of tired where he can be vulnerable tonight, so he keeps that to himself, even though he desperately wants to know if you feel the same way.
“excuses, excuses,” he tsks. he turns his head toward you and lifts his arm from his eyes, barely cracking them open, “if you hate me just say that.”
“shuji, my dearest. i had your cock down my throat 20 minutes ago.”
he full on glares at you, or at least he attempts to; his sleepy, half lidded eyes betray him. you don’t miss the way the corner of his lips twitched up for a moment, though.
in the dim lighting of your bedroom, he paws around in search of your arm, and grabs you tightly when he finds it, causing you to gasp and drop your phone. with a confused yelp, you’re suddenly manhandled on top of him as he buries his head in your neck, muttering a muffled, “relax, baby.”
you sigh, “shuji, you’re insatiable.”
you feel a deep chuckle resonate against your throat, “c’mon, you told me you like being used, yeah? so be my sleep mask for a lil while...” you roll your eyes at him for using your words against you, and at the way his voice trails off as if he’s already falling back asleep. you can’t help but giggle at your needy god of death who whines when you aren’t touching him for even five minutes.
your personal guard dog, the grim reaper of kabukicho— his world would fall apart without you. 
he’s never told you that, but you feel it through his actions; through the longing in his touch. 
in the morning before he leaves for work, he gives you a tighter hug than usual, and the sweetest, softest kiss. in bed when he grabs at your hands, no matter what position he’s tangled the two of you in, he gently brushes his palm against yours before he squeezes. and now, as his breaths even out and you slowly attempt to shift yourself off him, his arms tighten around your waist with an annoyed huff. 
he feels protected by…well, whatever it is about you; he doesn’t know. it’s less like the way he looms over any poor soul that dares to glance at you a second too long, and more like your soul is the solace that his needed all this time. your presence grounds him in a way he hasn’t experienced before; it warms up his heart and makes him soft. it’s the reason he can’t bear to let go of you in the night, and clings to you as long as he can before he goes out into a life that doesn’t treat him with nearly as much warmth.
despite the headache that he is sometimes, he makes you smile. so you settle in on top of him, because he’s given you no other option than to be his anchor in a world where he can only see the light in your presence. 
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cuinaminute229 · 8 days ago
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With death comes life
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pairing: Agatha x Rio x reader
summary: To fall in love with both life and death is almost impossible. They contradict each other, they are different sides to the same coin. Agatha once managed the impossible. But time and grief can break almost anything, and this time it breaks what feels like everything.
a/n: there will be more parts to this. I find this dynamic rather interesting and I am definitely going to explore it. not a lot of warning in this part except for mild swearing. slightly protective Rio.
...
Life and Death go hand in hand.
One can not exist without the other. 
It’s a partnership that transcends time itself.
Agatha Harkness does not understand this. She can not, because for the longest time all she has ever known is death.
All she has ever done is take. She takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left to give. Until there is nothing left you can give.
Death will love her. Life will despise her. 
That is how it will be for centuries.
The witches’ road is a place that does not welcome you. It fights you every step of the way.
It is a graveyard. It takes what it wants without thoughts of sympathy or solace. It digs up fear and trauma like gold. It twists and stretches and tears the desires of witches brave enough to step foot on the road.
You hate it and yet you are summoned.
The dirt between your fingers is a sensation that feels as familiar as holding death's hand. Clawing your way from beneath the earth is not something you're very familiar with.
You're not usually summoned alongside her, this is different.
The echoes of multiple screams ring in your ears as you crawl your way out of a fresh grave, growling through clenched teeth when you finally break the surface.
Your joints and bones pop as you twist and jerk to realign what's been broken. You swear you're going to ring the witch's neck that's summoned you. 
You tilt your head and feel a crack in your neck, you grimace before you jerk your head and relief seeps into your muscles.
With a flex of your fingers you adjust your clothes before the colors of the leaves scattered amongst the ground catches your eye.
Just as the realization settles and you finally understand where you are, a hand that brushes against the length of your back is the only thing that seems to ground you. You lean into her touch with a slow forced exhale.
Rio is here, that is the only comfort you feel. 
You absolutely hate the witches’ road.
When you finally glance up at the witches who were just screaming bloody murder, you notice her right away. 
Her thick brown hair falling against her shoulders, the white button up shirt that complements her dress pants, the locket that’s always with her. 
Agatha Harkness and this coven of four have summoned you and Rio to the road. 
The rage that heats your blood is a sensation that you will never get used to, it burns like the sun and yet it's all you can feel as you glare daggers at her.
The only thing that stops you from lunging at her is Rio’s quick reaction. The hand that was resting on your back has encircled your waist, she tugs you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. 
“Easy there tiger.” Her soft chuckle of amusement is not distraction enough from what you want to say. 
“What the fuck are you doing Agatha?” Your words are harsh and yet you feel no sympathy when she flinches at your tone.
“Excuse me?” The witch in the pink dress places a hand over her heart like you personally offended her. 
“You’re excused.” You pay her no mind, your eyes are only on Agatha. “Now answer the question.”
Agatha says nothing. Her eyes look from you to Rio and back like she can barely believe what she’s seeing. Like she didn’t intend for this to happen.
“Cat got your tongue?” Rio teases, her smile predatory, the hold on your waist a touch possessive. 
“How did you—?” This time she points at the two of you. 
“We were in the neighborhood.” Rio interrupts her with a casual response. There is no need to explain further, she will know the truth.
“But uhh,” The youngest member of the coven, a teenage boy, lifts his hand up like he’s waiting to voice his question. You frown at the notion, not quite understanding.
“Yes Teen?” The oldest of the group turns to look at the kid who answers once the attention turns to him. 
“Why are there two of them?” He gestures between you and Rio, his confusion clear as he then turns to look at Agatha like she has all the answers.
You scoff at the thought, she knows nothing. Not when it comes to you and especially not when it comes to Rio. That was made very clear centuries ago.
Agatha glares at you as if this time you truly have offended her but all you do is glare right back.
The moment of eye contact drags on longer than you thought it would. The witch's pride is a strong thing and you know she hates backing down first but you are not in the mood to give in. 
You refuse to give her what she wants.
When fingers dance along the thin fabric that covers your ribs you jerk involuntarily, turn to glare at Rio. She gives you an innocent smile but her eyes burn with something that silently tells you to calm down.
“Doesn't matter.” Agatha's anger is a harsh bite, hiding the vulnerability that comes with seeing the both of you. “We have a green witch. Now let's go.”
The whoosh of her coat is followed by a slow breath that relaxes your shoulders. You can not let your anger get the best of you while here. The road will only take it and twist it until it gets a chance to throw it in your face.
“Being summoned is so much fun isn't it? Just like old times.” Rio teases you, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder in a silent apology. 
Before you can turn and properly question her about why you are here a voice calls your attention. “Uhh hello?” 
You roll your eyes but turn to glance at the three witches that have lingered after Agatha stormed off.
“Hello.” You merely say in return. You owe these witches nothing more.
“So uh did we summon two green witches?” The witch with red in her hair gestures to the two of you. You feel Rio shake her head from where her face is still pressed into your shoulder, her chuckle is low enough that the others do not hear it. 
You find her amusement endearing and annoying.
“To keep things simple, yes.” 
The continued looks of confusion merely make you smirk at the unsuspecting women. 
With one last brush of fingers over your ribs, one last ghost of a kiss that tickles the skin of your neck, Rio steps away. Her smile is bright, the twinkle in her dark eyes promise nothing but mischief and self entertainment.
“We're supposed to walk this thing right?” She steps around you and points toward the road. When she only gets a few shrugs of consensus she hums in response before leaving you behind with these confused witches.
You shake your head with a soft smile, of course she would find a way to ignore all your questions for even just a little bit longer.
“Let's get this over with.”
...
part 2
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tarotwithlucien · 1 month ago
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Letter from your Future Spouse | PICK A PILE
⊹ ᨦ Hello! Welcome to another PAP about future spouse, as you asked for a lot, here I am back ;) I have to warn you that there's a lil bit of nsfw in this reading so if you're underage LEAVE 😠
₊˚๑ How to choose: Close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the image that caught your attention. ₊˚๑ Disclaimer: All readings are done for entertainment only, don't use my readings as a replacement for legitimate advice. This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ masterist | tip jar
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🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE ONE ᨦ ♡
⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹
"My dearest love,
I want you to know that all I truly desire is a peaceful life with you. In a world that often seems to value wealth, fame, and material luxuries, I find solace in the simplicity of our love. I don’t need grand gestures or extravagant possessions. As long as I’m by your side, that’s more than enough for me. I envision a quiet, private life where it’s just the two of us, free from the noise and distractions of the outside world. It doesn’t even matter to me if no one in the city we live in knows our name, all that matters is you and the beautiful life we build together. From the moment I met you, I’ve fallen for you deeply. Your essence captivates me in ways I can hardly explain. I love your unique style, even when others judge it harshly (Many people in this pile have a more alternative look, maybe even tattoos or piercings, and that just adds to how much they admire you). I find beauty in your individuality, in the way you express yourself unapologetically. I adore listening to you talk, even when your words ramble on about something seemingly silly – it doesn’t matter. When you ask me to, I love wrapping my hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath my fingertips. The way you beg for my touch sends shivers down my spine; it ignites a fire within me that I never knew existed. The pleasure you give me is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced, and I crave every moment we share. Seeing you from behind during our passionate encounters drives me wild with desire, and I’m utterly eager to know your taste in every sense. I am completely captivated by you; you have my heart, and honestly, I’d let you ruin my life if that’s what you wanted. I want you to know that you are free to be exactly who you are with me. Never apologize for being yourself; your authenticity is what makes you shine. Don’t let the opinions of others weigh you down or dictate how you live your life. You don’t need to seek validation from anyone or change who you are to fit someone else’s expectations. Those people who criticize you? They’re simply jealous because they lack the courage to live as freely as you do. Remember, you’re not perfect – none of us are – but you possess so much inherent value. I hope you can see that in yourself, even on days when self-doubt creeps in. I’ve noticed that you’ve been holding back, staying quiet when things or people bother you, and it’s been going on for far too long. It’s time to stop. You deserve to stand up for yourself and speak out when something doesn’t feel right. Don’t just let things slide or accept situations that don’t sit well with your heart. And please, exercise caution with the people you trust – not everyone has your best interests at heart. You are precious to me, and I want to protect you from any negativity or harm that may come your way. You mean everything to me, and I promise to be your safe haven, your supporter, and your biggest fan. Together, we can navigate this life and face whatever challenges come our way. I’ll always stand by your side, encouraging you to be the incredible person you are meant to be.
With all my love, Your future spouse."
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🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE TWO ᨦ ♡
⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹
"My love,
I’ve never felt so happy or so deeply invested in someone until you came into my life. Before we became what we are now, we were just friends, and that in itself was confusing for me. I’d never felt anything like this for anyone before, so it caught me off guard. But now, being with you, I find myself in awe, thinking, "Wow, is this really my life?”. Being with you as your partner feels like the most divine experience I’ve ever had. Right now, I know there are people who don’t treat you the way you deserve. Some of them always think they’re right and criticize you, making it seem like you’re always wrong and never good enough. They point out your flaws and mistakes as if you aren’t capable of doing anything right. But listen to me, love, you don’t need to tolerate that. You deserve better. These people don’t know your worth, and I’m telling you, don’t waste your time trying to please them. Don’t let their words tear you down, and don’t let them walk all over you. It’s time for you to stand tall and show them exactly who you are. You’re so much more than their shallow judgments, and you don’t need their approval to know your value. The thought of losing you is something I can hardly bear. Just imagining you being with someone else, laughing with them, sharing moments, and kissing them – it makes my heart ache in ways I can’t describe. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m protective of you because I love you so much, and the idea of someone else having what we have – it would break me. I know it sounds possessive, but it’s not in a toxic way. I just can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to share you with anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll always fight for us because I know that what we have is rare. This kind of love doesn’t come around often, and it’s something worth fighting for, no matter what. I’ll be by your side through every high and low. I’m not going anywhere. Stay with me, because I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve dreamed of. You deserve the world, and I’ll spend my life trying to give it to you. You’re beautiful – so incredibly beautiful. If we were in a room full of people, you’d still be the only one I’d see. No one else could ever hold my attention the way you do. You make me feel more alive than I ever have before, and I can’t help but be mesmerized by you, by the way you move, by everything you are. I want you. I want to feel you close, I want our bodies to collapse into one another, and I want to hold you through the night. I want to wake up the next morning with you beside me, your face illuminated by the soft light of the sun. I can’t imagine anything more perfect than that. Every moment with you feels like a dream, and I never want to wake up from it. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how much I cherish you. I’m completely and hopelessly in love with you, and I’ll stand by you, no matter what comes our way. You’re my heart, my soul, my everything.
With all my love, Your future spouse."
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🥐 ⊹ ꒱ PILE THREE ᨦ ♡
⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹
"My darling,
I want you to know that I’m here to lift you up and encourage you to fly high, chasing after all your dreams with unwavering determination. I see you grappling with people who are rude or who treat you as if you’re less than you truly are, and I want you to realize that this mistreatment only happens because you allow it. I understand that you might hold back your words, choosing silence to avoid conflict, but it’s essential for you to stand your ground and assert yourself. You have every right to demand respect, and you must not let anyone walk all over you. It might take time for you to learn how to set boundaries and to stand firm without feeling guilty, especially if you’re someone who tends to please others. Change doesn’t happen overnight, but I promise you, you’ll get there if you take that first step. I see you feeling lonely at times, and it pains me to know that you’re going through this. I can help you mend that loneliness, and I want nothing more than to see you shine brightly in your own unique way. I long to be near you, to touch you, to kiss you passionately, and to explore every inch of your being. You deserve to feel desired and loved, and I want to be the one to show you just how incredible you are. I’ll make you scream with pleasure because you are such a good girl/good boy, and I will send you all the love in my heart, wrapped in every caress and whisper. You have the power to manifest the life of your dream. You can create the reality you desire, and I believe in you wholeheartedly. Know that I am practically at your feet, waiting for you to call out to me. As soon as you do, I will come running. Being apart from you right now feels like a dagger to my heart. Even though we haven’t met yet, I am on a quest to find you, enduring this distance as best I can. The thought of trying to stop loving you is impossible; it would only cause my feelings to deepen. I could never truly let you go, and the very idea of it is unbearable. But I hold on to the hope that one day we will be together, sharing everything that life has to offer. My eyes are always on you; you are everything I see. You are my world, my everything, and I will always be here, ready to embrace you when the time comes.
With all my love, Your future spouse."
© tarotwithlucien - don't copy, redistribute or edit my content | moodboard & dividers by plutism
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fangswbenefits · 4 months ago
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The Arrangement (15) - Acquaintances
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Summary: Astarion meets a friend of old and quickly realises it might have just cost him something very dear to him.
Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma and abuse. Mentions of abuse.
Note: This post on reddit shed some light on Cazador, so I definitely giving it a read!
Word count: 3.3k
Series masterlist . Ao3
In times past, Astarion would have found momentary solace in the person standing right before him. After all, silence and whatever could be called normalcy were hard to come by in Cazador's palace.
The servants had been the very embodiment of the life he had long lost. In fact, they had been the only life that roamed the vast halls. All had accepted  being there willingly and under the foolish illusion that Cazador would one day grant them the gift of immortality. 
If you could actually call it a gift…
And even though they were loyal to the vampire lord to a fault, they were, for the most part, quite amicable to his spawn as well. Some would even tend to the vast and deep wounds inflicted by Cazador after he had spent his wrath.
Astarion had been quite fortunate to be on the receiving end of their mercy on numerous occasions, when his field of vision was nothing but a pool of blood – a sore reminder that crossing Cazador Szarr was not to be taken lightly.
Eyla?
He did remember her name and her kindness and gentle touch amidst his wails of pain.
“Surprised to see me?”
The slim figure took a few sure steps in his direction as he cradled your limp form in his arms, still overrun with shock.
Astarion tried to talk, but no words left his mouth.
“I suppose your silence is a novelty,” she said, coming to a halt as she pushed the hood down, revealing her pleasant face. “After all, you were always the loud and troublesome one.”
For better or for worse, navigating through undeath and the unpredictability of his circumstances ever since he was snatched from Baldur's gate, had taught him a thing or two about being prepared and always on guard.
The dagger tightly strapped to his thigh was proof of it. He would only need to move his hand slightly under you to reach the hilt.
“What have you done to her?”
The woman's lips were pressed into a fine line for a long while, as if examining his question.
His patience was running thin, and he tried hard to keep her engaged enough so he could find a way to incapacitate her.
“Do not fret – she will be fine,” she said with a sigh, drawing even closer. “Not that it wouldn't give me great pleasure to put an end to the so-called hero of Baldur's Gate and her role in what you did to the master.”
Ah.
He should have known that this had something to do with Cazador. It seemed that he was destined to have him haunt him even in true death.
The sudden realisation hit him so hard he held you even closer to his body, shifting along the bench as if that would create a safe distance from Eyla.
Surprised was soon drowned out by the ever-growing anger that took root within him. He was known for his temper and outbursts, and clearly not the most sensible man when cornered.
But this was something else entirely.
Astarion had over two hundred years of having the worst atrocities being inflicted upon his body and mind. As far as he was concerned, he had managed to find useful ways to deal with imminent threats to him.
But he wasn't so lenient when it came to you.
You were off limits to anyone.
And he wasn't going to allow any harm to befall you.
“You'd be wise to undo this right now, or this conversation will be rather short.”
She had the nerve to snicker, eyes flickering under the moonlight. “Freedom has made you even more insufferable and entitled. Godey ought to have been harsher to you back then. I reckon one hundred more lashings would have made a difference each time you crossed the master.”
Rage swirled throughout his body like poisonous fumes, and he found it hard to stay put through the taunting.
But she was a fool to think she could best him in his natural element. After all, he had a tongue sharp enough to rival the blade of his dagger.
“Well, darling,” he started, slipping nearly effortlessly into his usual demeanour, “Godey is now nothing but a pile of dust, so unless you intend on joining him for a tea party in the afterlife, I'd make sure to tread lightly.”
And like clockwork, the first cracks began to show.
Her face dropped ever so slightly and he figured he had one - maybe two if the gods above even cared to bestow him any grace - sneer remark left before she lashed out at him.
“You insolent and ungrateful brat,” Eyla spat out through gritted teeth, both fists clenched at her sides, allowing him to infer 
Well, he had clearly exhausted her patience already, hadn't he?
No bother.
His right hand now gripped the handle of the dagger firmly, as he readied himself for an imminent physical confrontation.
But something made him freeze almost instantly, and his gaze dropped briefly to your face.
Maybe, just maybe, it was merely his mind playing tricks on him and feeding off his desperation, but he could swear he felt you shift slightly against him.
And then he saw your face tense.
A sudden wave of relief washed down on him, his free hand giving you a reassuring squeeze.
Good girl.
It was in moments like this that he vaguely wished – much to his utter disgust – that the wriggling worm was still a . He would have made good use of them right now.
More than relief, he felt pride.
He had yet to meet someone quite as resilient as you. Whatever incantation had been cast on you surely wasn't enough to contain the tempest within you.
You had been shaped by the elements and woven into a sorcerer whose magic wasn't so easily put out. He had been foolish to think a mere vampire lord servant could ever be a match against your mind.
“Isn't it enough that you turned on your master and betrayed him?”
Oh, what a bloody nuisance. He had no patience to entertain speeches of heartbroken servants whose wet dream had been crushed.
However…
You shifted again, but no sound came from your parting lips.
Astarion knew then he had to play the waiting game. There was no denying you were slowly but surely coming to your senses, but he couldn't draw attention to it.
More than friends, you two had grown to become teammates, taking in on each other's queues to know when to make the right move.
He knew you needed time, and time he would give you.
Meeting her eyes with defiance, he took on the challenge. “What Cazador sold you was naught but a fantasy.”
Your hand shifted next.
Mentioning his name so blatantly made her visibly shudder. “How dare you? You utter his name with no regard that he saved you from certain death.”
He leaned back with a roll of his eyes, further reeling her into his trap. “Oh, please. And what would he save you from, exactly? Idiocy? I am afraid it would take more than a vampire bite to fix such ailment, dear Eyla. Eternal life can only do so much.”
Warmth began spreading under his palm, letting him know that you were returning to him.
Still, you needed more time.
“Your words might work on the weak, but not on me.”
“And yet… you managed to serve a vampire lord who had no intention to ever deliver his promises.”
Eyla was young and naive, so he couldn't truly fault her for being so passionate and loyal. Cazador's grasp reached far and viciously. Astarion had once fallen for his 
“That does not make me weak.”
A crooked grin curled his lips. “Just an idiot, then.”
He tugged on his dagger slowly, allowing his fingers to glide down across the blade, knowing that, sooner or later, he would have to make use of it.
Eyla scoffed, crossing her arms, apparently unaware that you were no longer unconscious.
Come on… you're almost there, darling, he urged sweetly in his head as if his words could ever reach you.
“The others warned me that you had become rather insufferable.”
Others?
“Oh, how very interesting,” he said, trying his best to ignore your hand clawing at his shirt. “Ava?”
Were they… friends? In on this together?
Her brows furrowed. “The monster hunter whore you befriended? Don't insult me.”
Clearly not.
Well… 
“Does this rendezvous even have a purpose?” Astarion said with a forced yawn. “Are we to swap snarky remarks until one of us perishes? I had more engaging plans for this evening.”
The serenity in her face had given her away. 
She wasn't alone and he was a master of shadows.
Even in the poorly lit area, he could see silhouettes drawing near right behind her. That was certainly yet another nuisance he would have to deal with.
“Astarion…”
Your voice snapped him out of his bloodbath scheming right away.
For a brief moment, he let his guard down by meeting your hazy eyes.
“There you are.”
His voice was almost shaky from relief, but it would come at a cost.
It had been an unfortunate distraction.
He wasn't sure how he managed to tap so quickly into his reflexes, but he soon felt the warm and familiar splatter of blood hit his face, making him wince from bloodlust.
In the midst of chaos and footsteps and hisses surrounding him, he was able to spot the man he had hurled his dagger at, slicing clean through the pulsing artery in his neck. The obscene gush of blood that ensued as he hit the ground was enough to drive any vampire mad.
And he was not immune to it.
He hadn't fed in days and he could use this to his advantage. In fact, he reckoned it would be the only way out.
Droplets streamed down his face, hitting his lips, and he wasn't strong enough to deny himself of an added burst of power. As such, his tongue darted out and a rumbling groan tore through him as the liquid progressively took over his senses. One by one.
Blood was blood.
He would have preferred yours, but he was far too hungry to be picky.
He had pushed you right behind him as he leapt from the bench, determined to take on anyone who dared to come close.
By the time he had managed to retrieve his dagger, Eyla had a smile dancing on her lips. One that had his eyes wide.
Astarion was fast and agile, but he was also severely outnumbered.
Two other men had rushed to his side, and he flinched as something began poking at his lower abdomen, as they looped strong arms around his own, immobilising him in place.
Wooden stakes.
“Astarion…”
Your voice was still void of the life it usually held. It was evident that you were still weak and in no condition to fight.
And, in truth, he wasn't even sure he wanted you to.
“Drop the dagger.”
It wasn't a request.
It was a command and he wasn't sure how to dodge this one. He usually carried knives and other daggers on him just to be on the safe side, but he didn't think he would need those tonight.
Fucking idiot…
No amount of self-deprecation would get him out of this one.
They wanted to kill him for what he had done to Cazador. They wanted revenge and he wasn't sure how his wits and snarky replies would talk him out of this one.
He groaned as one man drove the stake harsher against him, from under his shirt. Still, the pressure wasn't enough to break skin. Not yet, at least.
As a reflex, he immediately let go of the dagger, hearing it land with a muffled thump on the grass.
Eyla's spirit had been renewed and she took measured steps towards him. 
He heard grunts from his side as you struggled to sit down on the bench, flickering snaps of lightning emerging from your hands.
That almost made him smile.
You were a fighter through and through, and he wouldn't mind parting this world in these terms. Knowing you had been enough to ease the pain of centuries of hurt. He had been given a second chance at life when he met you and not when he was made immortal. 
He had never felt more alive than in the moments he had spent with you and he would wish to have more, but he couldn't wish for that at your expense. After all, you had your whole life ahead of you. 
He had had his fill. 
He was ready to meet whatever fate awaited him, as long as you were kept safe.
“You're coming with us.”
His brows furrowed, caught by surprise.
“Do not harm her.”
Eyla was so close he could feel her hot breath on his skin, fanning the blood on his face that had begun to dry into sticky patches.
“We are not harming anyone,” she said viciously. “But we've had enough of you running around unscathed after what you've done.”
He wished he could tear his eyes from you, but it was like a force field. Your arms trembled as you tried your best to rein in the elements inside you. Lighting and fire swirled erratically from your hands. 
Yours was wild magic.
Hard to harness and bend to your will.
Even harder when thrown off balance unexpectedly.
“Look at me, Astarion.”
The two men pressed the stakes harder and he had no choice but to comply, meeting her eyes again.
“Did you really think we were going to allow you to have your happily ever after? That you could off into the sunset with her once you found a way to not burn to ashes?”
She was mocking him… goading him, knowing he was rendered immobile.
“Have you been the ones sabotaging this all along?”
A surge of outrage nearly burst from deep within as her silence answered his question. 
“Surprised?”
That would be an understatement. He couldn't even begin to describe the turmoil that gripped him from the inside out.
“Why…” His voice faltered momentarily, “why not just kill me right when you had the chance?”
At this, Eyla laughed. “Is there a bigger punishment than the illusion of freedom? Killing you would have been the kinder way out for you,” she went on, each word dripping with poison. “No. No, Astarion. You were a fool to hope. You were a fool to hope your misery was over.”
A part of him was still in shock at the revelation, and he had no smart jabs that could possibly help him right now.
But the truth was that, the rest of him, had begun to accept that. He had been a fool indeed to think he could have had any other ending than this.
That he could have had a semblance of happiness with you.
“But I think that we are tired of playing this game. Maybe it's finally time to kill you.”
Just like a punch to his gut, he was quickly overtaken with dread as he heard a faint whimper from you.. “If you're going to kill me, don't do it in front of her.”
“You are in no position to make demands.”
“Please.”
He was running out of time. 
He thought he had bought enough for you to recover, but you couldn't even bring yourself to sit upright, let alone save him from whatever awaited him.
Most importantly, he was running out of ways to ensure you weren't scarred for life for witnessing him being destroyed.
“Oh, you're going to beg? The way you used to beg Cazador to stop carving the scars you carry on you, hmm?” Eyla said, visibly satisfied with the effect her words had on him. “Get on your knees and beg, then.”
“No… fuck…” you said in between groans. 
He'd rather you had lost consciousness once again, for each word from you was as a dagger that was carved into him.
“Astarion. Do not kneel…”
The two men holding him tight chuckled darkly as his knees began to cave in, but before he could go through with it, Eyla raised one hand, halting him.
“What if we kill her instead?” she chirped, making her way to you. “I think we should. Astarion would have an eternity to suffer for having killed the only person he has ever truly loved.”
Blinded by anguish, Astarion lurched forward, feeling both men struggling to keep him in place. He felt the sharp tips of the wooden stakes break skin just enough to draw blood, but he powered through the fear that loomed over him.
“I will fucking kill you if you touch her!”
With a click of her tongue, Eyla sat next to you, one hand caressing your head as you spilled curses at her, still drained from whatever magic had been cast on you.
“You'd be staked before you could even reach me, silly boy,” she said, revealing a knife from under her sleeve. “Now that I think about it, killing her seems the most reasonable choice here.”
You tried to flinch away from her grasp, and Astarion felt himself go mad from the sight in front of him.
He was about to scream when they muffled him with a piece of cloth, robbing him of his voice.
Reflexively, he tried to break free once more, but he was far too weak to put up a fight.
He knew it was futile, but he had abandoned all reason. Even though he had savoured blood, he was still too weak to break through the hold they had on him. Each pull from him and each attempt to break free were quickly met with an immovable force.
When his eyes met yours, he saw you mouth something.
And it broke him.
He didn't need to hear it.
He knew what you were attempting to say.
Thank you.
He doubted any torture Cazador had ever inflected on him could ever match the pain he was currently experiencing.
Eyla suddenly grabbed a vial from her robes, spilling the clear liquid along the sharp blade.
“Isn't it poetic justice that you are a master of poisons, and she gets to die at your hand?”
He recognised the vial as his.
It was his poison.
He couldn't tell which one, but it hardly mattered. Each poison he concocted was terrible through and through. They were designed to hurt and, ultimately, kill.
Soon, you began to sob, swirls of fire engulfing your hands as frustration gripped you. You were unable to get your magic under control and you were going to die.
For him.
Because of him.
Eyla threw him a final glance, positioning the top of the knife right across your neck. You stilled immediately, knowing any sudden movement could have the blade slice right through.
He tried to speak again, but all his words came out unintelligible. 
“If you scream, they'll stake you.”
Eagerly, he nodded, and they swiftly removed the cloth from in between his teeth.
“Please. Don't!” Astarion said in sheer despair. “I will do whatever you want!”
She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. “You have nothing to offer us.”
He had to try.
He had to try to buy himself more time in the hopes that someone had heard him and might 
“You want eternal life, don't you?”
Silence. Dreadful and agonising silence.
“I can find a way to help you. There are other true vampires out there.”
Eyla tapped the side of her blade to your skin as she pondered his words. She then exchanged looks with both men.
“Should we take his offer?”
Had he made it? Had he managed to bluff his way out of this one? To possibly get you somewhere safe?
Hope.
Eyla lifted the poisonous blade and Astarion felt a crushing weight being lifted from him.
She locked eyes with him for what seemed like a lifetime.
Please. Please. Please. 
Eyla clicked her tongue with a pout. “I don't think so.”
And he watched in horror as she moved her hand to swiftly bury the knife into your abdomen.
“NO!”
Astarion felt his body go limp as his field of vision got flooded with a golden and warm beam that tore through the night sky akin to how the sun breaks the dawn. 
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Next chapter: When All Things End
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ryukzakiii · 10 months ago
Text
distraction ⭑ l. lawliet
summary: during a late night working on the kira case with L, his distractions become too overpowering and the two of you decide to blow off some steam.
( part 2 here ! )
pairing: l. lawliet x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT!! MINORS DNI!!! this gets a little filthy actually. virgin!L, praise, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), L is needy as hell, also he swears like 3 times i think so
authors note: hiiii this isn’t proofread and it’s 4am enjoy
smut under the cut‼️
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every night working with you was a long one. in the beginning it was because, try as he might, L could not seem to get you to remember the simplest things you were supposed to do to help him out. you’d forget how many sugars he took in his tea, or forget where you had filed something away the night before, whatever it was it always got on L’s nerves.
not like he could say something to you, he was always fearful that he would hurt your feelings or that you would think he was much more upset than he really was, and that would impact your work.
nowadays however, now that your working together was no longer a new thing and the both of you had gotten into more of a routine, L began to attribute the long nights to simply one thing, you.
he wasn’t sure exactly why, but he found himself distracted from the task at hand most nights of the week, usually thinking instead about how nice it is that you help him out with so much and how enjoyable it is to work with somebody as smart as you. right now in particular though, he was realizing just the reason you were becoming such a distraction.
thanks to his crunched posture, you were blissfully unaware of the growing distraction that laid underneath the zipper of his jeans.
when you’d first joined him that evening, the sight of you descending from your room adorned in pyjamas that left alarmingly little to the imagination, only being aided by a knit cardigan left hanging open, a sudden pulse shot through his body and left L truly praying you couldn’t see the tent forming in his pants. it wasn’t as if L didn’t realize before how attractive you are, but things like that had never affected him the way they were now.
if she would just button up that sweater. maybe then i’d be able to get some work done.
“hellooo?” the sweet sound of your voice interrupted his thoughts, “ryuzaki, did you hear a word i just said?”
“er- no, my apologies. what was it you were saying?”
you playfully rolled your eyes at him and stood as you spoke again, “i said, i’m going to make another tea. do you want anything?”
just to make this throbbing go away so i can get back to work. “no, thank you. hurry back though will you? i’m not getting through this as quickly as i’d like to so i’ll need as much of your help as i can get.”
he watched you hurry out of the room to make your tea and tried hard not to take notice of how little the back of your shorts covered or the sway in your hips as you walked. he placed a hand over his clothed erection and allowed his head to fall back onto the chair, a quick sigh escaping him at the accidental friction.
his few moments of solace came to an end quickly when you came back into the room, giving him little time to sit up and readjust before you took your seat in the chair next to him. almost immediately you scooted over closer and held out a closed fist in front of him, “give me your hand.”
L stretched his hand out underneath yours, a small wrapped candy falling into his palm.
“i grabbed one for you from the bowl in the kitchen.” you said as you unwrapped one of your own.
he watched carefully as the candy brushed your lips before you gently placed it on your tongue, his breathing steadily becoming more heavy and intense and he could feel every pump of blood circulating through his veins, “thank you.”
“are you alright? you look a little flushed. i can turn down the heat if you want, i did turn it up a bit a little while ago.” you started to stand.
“no!” the tips of his ears began to burn with embarrassment as he quickly stood in her place, urging her back into her chair so she wouldn’t be able to see anything, “uh- no, thank you. you just sat back down, i can get it.”
L tried to steady his breathing on the walk over to the thermostat, taking this time with his back turned to attempt to shift his erection in a way it would go unseen. hesitating to turn back around, he scurried back over to his chair with his head down and hoped to whatever god might be listening that you didn’t get a chance to see.
god, how unprofessional. if she noticed, our professional relationship will be tarnished indefinitely and she’d never trust me again. not that i would really blame her, i mean how would that seem, she’s alone at night with her boss and he’s sporting an erection.
unfortunately for L, you had noticed, you actually had noticed back when you got up to get your tea but you weren’t sure if you were just fantasizing imagining things. you were sure of what you saw on his strange walk back to his seat.
while he was lost in his own worry, L failed to notice you moving your chair so your arms were practically touching until he felt you peering in front of him.
he snapped his head back, “what are you doing?”
“just looking at what you’ve got over here. if you weren’t hogging it the whole time i wouldn’t have to invade your space.”
L clutched his knees closer to his chest, at the point of being unable to hide his unsteady and shallow breaths. he wasn’t sure what to do, or what to say to get out of the position he was now in to decide what happened next.
you turned around to look at him, presumably asking him something about what you’d just read. he tried to hear you, he really did, but over his pounding heartbeat and mind full of thoughts all he could do was watch your mouth move in what felt like slow motion.
“i’m sorry, can you please say that again?” he could barely hear his own muffled words. you were so close to him and he could see directly down your top from where he was sat, not that it helped much that you were leaned directly into his eye-line.
you placed your hand on his knee and he thought he was going to throw his stomach up, “i just asked what you thought about these men from the yotsuba group. ryuzaki, seriously is everything okay?”
he wanted to answer but before he could even try you spoke again, “maybe you need to put the case down for a while, y’know, blow off some steam.”
finally, he looked you in the eye, “please forgive me.”
before you got a chance to ask what for, both of his hands held your face as he leaned forward, planting a hesitant but desperate kiss on your lips. he was sure that the moment he pulled away, your involvement in this case and his life was going to crumble in front of him.
to his surprise, he barely had a second to take a breath before you were gripping onto his shirt and pulling him back in. every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, you were practically on top of him and he couldn’t help but try and pull you in closer, reaching for your jaw and your waist and practically anything he could get his hands on. his body was moving by itself and solely on instinct, making him feel a little self conscious about if he was doing the right things. his mind was soon put at ease when he felt his arms fall slack and your weight shift over him, the closer you got the better. you pulled away just slightly to take a breath and his legs fell to a normal position, hurriedly kissing you again and hoping you would just understand and sit down so he didn’t have to try and speak right now.
“ryuzaki—“
“L.” he interjected, “please i— please call me L. just here.”
you smiled, “L, are you sure this is alright?”
“one hundred percent.” his hands still holding onto your waist for dear life, you held his face with yours as you closed the small gap that remained between the two of you. he let out a small, involuntary groan when he felt your thighs press around his hips, “i’m going to need some guidance here, as i’m sure you’ve guessed this isn’t something i have any prior experience with.”
“don’t worry, i’ll teach you.” gently, you began to grind down on him, earning a deep sigh from L and his hands making their way from your waist down to your hips, using his white-knuckled grip to help you slowly along.
“that- that feels incredible. y/n- please i don’t know if i can hold out.” his cheeks were flushed bright red—probably the most colour you’d ever seen on his face—and he looked down to where the only things standing in his way was his jeans and those godforsaken pyjama shorts you wore, “not that i want to go quickly through this, in fact that’s less than ideal it’s just— this is getting rather painful. i need— shit, can i please, you know.”
to put him out of his misery, you hushed him with a kiss and got to work on undoing the button on his pants. you’d barely gotten it undone when his hands pushed yours out of the way, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.
you were glad you were already sitting down. not that you were expecting to be disappointed by the size of course, but just seeing it now made you feel a little nervous. drool nearly threatened to escape your mouth before you snapped back into it, making a mental note that you would have to do that another time.
L looked up to you, one hand pushing your shorts to the side trying not to cum right there when he realized you hadn’t been wearing underwear and the other slowly stroking himself, awaiting your approval.
the look on his usually-blank face would’ve been enough to make anybody weak, “L, please.”
he wasted no time in lifting your hips up and pushing himself in, pausing after just the tip to breathe and calm himself down. you could feel his hands trembling during his failed attempt to keep his composure, opting to ease yourself onto him instead.
he let out a shaky breath that caught in his throat when you’d fully sat back down. you yourself were trying to breathe through the intense feelings already taking over your whole body, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to take him fully, and now that you had you felt more full than you ever had in your life.
“let me know when it’s okay to move,” you whispered by his ear, “we’ll go as slow as you need.”
his hands returned to their spot on your hips, “dear god, move.”
you started off slow, his cock only coming out about an inch or two before pushing right back in. his head was spinning, you were invading his every sense. all he could smell was your shampoo, the taste of the candy you’d eaten still remaining both of your tongues. all he wanted to do was show you what he was feeling. he didn’t have the words to even begin to try and explain it. as if they had a mind of their own, his hips began to meet your movements, quickly picking up in speed and overtaking your control.
“fuck! that’s it— L, please.” you couldn’t say much more than that, every word being punctuated with a hushed moan, but the praise drove him crazy. any hesitation he’d had before was forgotten about, and he let his instincts take over. after all, he’d learned to always trust his instincts, why would now be any different?
he knew he wasn’t going to last very long, yet he couldn’t help pushing your hips down to meet his thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every one and making you practically cry out. if it weren’t for the quiet chants of ‘please’ he’d have thought you really were crying.
you could feel your orgasm approaching soon, and as if like he could read your mind L lifted a hand to push your shirt up above your chest and dipped his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking so gently compared to the harshness of his cock.
your arms wrapped around his head, hands tugging at the roots of his hair which earned you a deep groan into your chest. with every thrust you were getting closer and closer, his mouth having moved on to kiss your neck with the same desperation he’s harboured since the first time.
“i’m so close, god please don’t stop. —feels so good.” you begged, throat dry and still panting and holding his hair for dear life.
“fuck,” he began losing the rhythm he had been trying to keep to, “i’m— i’m going to orgasm. i need you, please.”
his hips started to stutter as he reached his peak, panting and whining into your ear and wrapping his arms tightly around your back. the feeling of you coming undone and squeezing around him just made it that much more intense, his face felt so hot he buried it into the crook of your neck.
by the time both of your movements had come to a halt, he was laying back in the chair clutching onto you, head still held tightly to your chest and cock beginning to go soft inside you. L never wanted to move.
the embarrassment and nervousness was slowly returning and he felt his cheeks get hot again, so he tried to focus on the sweet smell of your shampoo that engulfed him to calm himself.
after a few long, perfect minutes, you broke the silence, “was that okay?”
“that was amazing.” his head remained tucked into your neck, “i’m sorry if i wasn’t very good at it, and that i couldn’t last any longer.”
“don’t be ridiculous, L it was fantastic. we’ll have plenty of time to build up your stamina if you really want to.”
and just like that at the thought that this could happen to him more than once, he felt the blood rush back into his cock and you suddenly remembered something you’d wanted to do earlier.
“why don’t you let me show you how good you made me feel, huh?”
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pucksandpower · 1 year ago
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Another Man’s Treasure
Max Verstappen x Reader + Charles Leclerc x ex!Reader
Summary: Charles made the worst mistake of his life when he threw away his relationship with you. Max … well he’s learned to take advantage of others’ mistakes both on and off the track
Warnings: cheating (not the main pairing) and pregnancy
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“Please, Charles, why can’t we just talk about it?” you implore, the two of you standing on the balcony overlooking the glimmering lights of Monaco. The city shines brilliantly but your eyes are clouded with frustration and disappointment.
Charles exhales deeply, his jaw clenched as he avoids your gaze. The silver lining of the night —the glimmer of stars overhead — contrasts sharply with the tension between you two. “I told you already, it’s not the right time.
You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “Every time I bring up having children, you just push it away. Why can’t you see how much this means to me?”
Charles runs his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling slowly. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want to have a family with you someday,” he begins, his gaze distant. “But right now, with my career at its peak, I can’t risk distractions.”
“Distractions?” Your voice breaks, the hurt evident in your tone. “Our children would be a distraction?”
He flinches, clearly not expecting that response. “That’s not what I meant. I just … I need to focus on the championship. The pressure is immense. Racing is my life. Ferrari is my life.”
“I understand your dedication to your career, but ...” You pause, your gaze searching his. “Don’t you think we can find a balance? Am I not part of your life too?”
He looks at you, those hypnotizing eyes you’ve always loved flinching away from yours after no more than a second. “I wish I knew how,” he murmurs. “But every time I think of the late nights, the early mornings, the endless travels ... I’m afraid I won’t be there for our children.”
You reach out, holding his face in your hands. “We can figure it out together. But not if you keep shutting me out.”
Charles leans into your touch for a brief moment, his warmth radiating under your fingers. But then he pulls away, taking a deep breath. “I just need time,” he whispers.
“You always say that,” you reply, voice almost inaudible. The weight of the situation presses down on you both. The future, once so clear and bright, is now clouded in uncertainty.
But one thing is clear to you. You love Charles Leclerc. Despite the pain, the hurt, and the disagreements, you still believe that one day, you’ll both find common ground. So, you nod, taking his hand. “Alright, I’ll give you time. But please, don’t take too long.”
He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. “Thank you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
But deep inside, a gnawing feeling of dread starts to grow, leaving you wondering if you’ve made the right choice.
***
The soft hum of the espresso machine at your favorite café in Monaco is the only thing that brings comfort these days. You take a deep breath, trying to enjoy the momentary solace as you sip on your coffee. But today, the calm is quickly disrupted by the muted buzz of your phone.
An unknown number flashes across the screen. Hesitating for only a moment, you decide to pick up. “Hello?”
A hesitant voice responds, “Is this ... is this you? I’ve seen you with Charles.”
Confused and on guard, you ask, “Who is this?”
The voice falters, “It’s Elise.”
You wrack your brain, trying to figure out who she might be. But before you can respond, Elise continues, “I think we need to meet. There’s something you should know.”
Agreeing to meet up, you find yourself waiting at the edge of the Fontvieille Park, the minutes feeling like hours as you try to decipher what could be so important.
Elise finally arrives, her demeanor nervous, eyes darting around. She’s visibly pregnant.
“I didn’t know how to tell you this,” she begins, looking down at her swollen belly, then up to your eyes, searching for understanding. “This is Charles’ child.”
The world seems to spin, the weight of her words pressing down on you. “What? How? Why?” The questions blur together, each one as painful as the last.
Elise sighs, taking a moment before she speaks, “We’ve been seeing each other for a while. I thought he loved me ... but then I found out about you.”
You’re at a loss for words, feeling a mix of betrayal, anger, and pain more complex than you can describe. The very foundation of your relationship with Charles feels like it’s crumbling beneath you. “He said he wasn’t ready for children,” you whisper, more to yourself than to Elise.
Elise looks genuinely pained. “I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve never—” she stops herself, tears forming. “I’m so sorry. I thought you deserved to know the truth.”
The rest of the conversation is a blur. Elise shares her story, and you listen, trying to reconcile this new reality. The Charles she describes isn’t the man you thought you knew.
By the time you part ways, the Monaco sunset paints the sky in shades of gold and purple. But its beauty does little to lift the darkness that has settled over your heart. Charles had been unfaithful, and now a child — a constant reminder of his betrayal — was on the way.
***
With every step you take towards the apartment you share with Charles, your emotions churn and crash like tumultuous waves. You have practiced the confrontation in your mind countless times, yet as you reach the door, your hands tremble. Taking a moment to gather your courage, you push it open.
Inside, Charles looks up from the couch, surprised. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” he starts, attempting a smile but his eyes give away a hint of nervousness. Perhaps he senses the storm brewing.
“We need to talk,” you say, your voice firm despite the turmoil inside.
Charles swallows hard, pushing himself up to stand. “About?”
“Elise,” you state simply, watching as his face pales.
He hesitates, and for a moment, you hope for an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret. But when he speaks, his words are cold and detached. “How did you find out?”
“Does it matter?” You shoot back, trying to hold back tears. “Is it true?”
Charles avoids your gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Yes,” he finally admits.
“And the baby? Is it yours?”
Again, he hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”
The weight of the revelation feels like a physical blow, and you stagger back slightly, gripping the back of a chair for support. “All those times … when you said you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t the right time …” Your voice cracks, pain and betrayal evident in every word.
Charles finally meets your gaze but there’s no warmth, no apology in his eyes. “I didn’t plan this,” he says but it’s not a justification, merely a statement.
“That’s supposed to make it better?” you scoff, voice rising in disbelief.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture you recognize as one of discomfort. “I never wanted to hurt you. But things just ... happened.”
“You think that justifies anything? Things just happened?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I gave up so much for us, Charles. I moved away from everything and everyone I knew to be with you. And you threw it all away like it’s nothing.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs but his apology feels hollow. His eyes betray the truth.
The room is thick with tension and heartbreak. The man you loved, the life you envisioned — both seem like illusions now. You didn’t even know if they were ever real.
“You know what?” You say, a new determination rising within. “I deserve better. I deserve someone who truly values and respects me.” With that, you turn, making your way to the bedroom to pack a few essentials.
Charles doesn’t stop you. And that, more than anything, cements the truth. Your future lies elsewhere. The chapter with Charles is closed.
***
Rain begins to drizzle over Monaco, each droplet reflecting the city’s luminescence. With a bag slung over your shoulder and a broken heart, you wander aimlessly. The streets that once felt like home now seem foreign and cold.
As the rain intensifies, you duck under an awning, the gentle hum of a nearby bar providing a temporary reprieve. You’re lost in thought when a familiar voice breaks through, “Is everything okay? You look a bit ... lost.”
You look up, surprised to find Max Verstappen looking genuinely concerned. His bright blue eyes study your face, searching for an answer.
“Max ...” Your voice trails off, unsure of how much to reveal.
He gestures to the bar beside you. “Want to come in? We can talk or not. Up to you.”
Gratefully, you nod, and the two of you find a quiet corner. The dim lighting offers a cocoon of privacy, away from prying eyes.
Over a glass of wine, words start to tumble out. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the uncertainty of the future. Max listens intently, his gaze never leaving yours. His silence offers a comforting presence, allowing you to unburden your heavy heart.
“I can’t believe Charles would do that to you,” Max says after you finish your story, his voice laced with anger. “You deserve so much better.”
A tear slips down your cheek. “I thought we had something special. But I guess I was just naive. And stupid. So stupid.”
Max reaches out, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb. “No. He was the fool for not seeing what a treasure he had.”
The evening wears on and you find solace in Max’s company. The conversation shifts from heartbreak to hopes and dreams. He opens up about his childhood, the pressures of racing, and his aspirations for a family — one where he could offer his children a better upbringing than he had.
The connection between you two grows, the raw vulnerability drawing you closer than you could have ever anticipated over just a few hours.
“It’s getting late,” Max observes, glancing at his watch. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
You hesitate, realizing you hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I ... I hadn’t planned anything.”
Max looks thoughtful for a moment then says, “I have a penthouse not far from here. You’re more than welcome to stay. No expectations, just a place to rest.”
Gratitude swells within you. “Thank you, Max. I really appreciate that.”
The two of you leave the bar together, the rain now a soft drizzle. As you make your way to his place, the weight of the day begins to lift, replaced by an unexpected feeling of hope. You couldn’t have predicted this turn of events but perhaps, just maybe, the universe has a plan for you.
***
The penthouse apartment is a sanctuary, perched high above the city’s twinkling lights. The soft glow of lamps bathes the room in warmth, contrasting with the coolness of the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that offer an unobstructed view of Monaco’s beauty.
Max hands you a plush robe and gestures toward the bathroom. “Feel free to freshen up. I’ll make us some tea.”
You nod, grateful for his understanding and hospitality. The hot shower washes away the day’s troubles, and when you emerge, wrapped in the robe, you find Max in the sleek kitchen area, preparing mugs of tea.
“Here you go,” he says, handing you a steaming cup. “Chamomile. Good for relaxation.”
You take a sip, the warm liquid soothing your frayed nerves. “Thank you, Max. For everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you tonight.”
He smiles gently, his eyes meeting yours. “Sometimes, unexpected moments bring people together for a reason.”
The two of you settle onto a surprisingly comfortable leather couch, gazing out at the night sky. Silence envelops you but it’s a comfortable one.
“You know, I never expected to connect with someone like this,” Max says, his voice soft. “Especially not after what you’ve been through.”
You look at him, seeing a depth of sincerity that surprises you. “It’s been a strange and difficult day,” you admit. “But talking to you, it feels like a weight has been lifted.”
Max’s gaze holds yours, and for a moment, it feels like the universe has conspired to bring you to this very place, to this very person.
He takes a deep breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. A loving home, something I didn’t really have growing up. I want to give my kids the stability and happiness I never had.”
Tears well up in your eyes, touched by his vulnerability and his willingness to share his dreams with you. “That’s a beautiful aspiration.”
He shifts closer, a comforting hand on your shoulder. “And what about you? What do you dream of?”
You lean back, contemplating the question. “I dream of a family too, a partner who’s truly invested, children who grow up knowing they’re loved and supported.”
Max's fingers brush against yours, a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You deserve that. You deserve to find happiness.”
As the night deepens, the emotional intimacy between you grows. There’s an unspoken understanding, a shared connection, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a glimmer of hope for the future. The chapter with Charles might be closed, but perhaps, with Max, you can start to write a new one — one filled with shared dreams and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
***
The morning sun casts a golden glow over Monaco as it begins its ascent into the azure sky. You wake up, wrapped in the softest sheets you’ve ever felt, with memories of last night’s conversation playing on a loop in your mind.
Exiting the bedroom, you find Max in the open-plan kitchen, whipping up a breakfast spread. “Good morning,” he greets with a warm smile. “I hope you’re hungry.”
As you eat, Max discusses his plans for the day, mentioning an upcoming summer break in the F1 calendar. “A few friends and I have organized a yacht trip during the summer shutdown. It’s a tradition,” he explains. “A way to escape and recharge.”
You nod, picturing the glittering sea and warm beaches. “That sounds wonderful.”
He hesitates for a moment, then, as if taking a leap, says, “Why don’t you join us? It could be a good distraction. Get away from all this ... chaos.”
The offer catches you by surprise. The prospect of a holiday is tempting, especially after the emotional whirlwind of the past few days. Plus, the idea of spending more time with Max, getting to know him outside the confines of Monaco, is equally appealing.
After a moment’s contemplation, you reply, “You know what? I think I will. Thank you so much.”
The days leading up to the trip are a blur, filled with shopping for swimsuits and sundresses and a growing sense of anticipation.
When the day finally arrives, you find yourself aboard a lavish yacht, surrounded by Max’s close friends. Laughter and conversations flow easily, the crystal-clear waters providing the perfect backdrop.
As the yacht sets sail, you and Max find a secluded spot on the deck. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. The two of you talk, laugh, and occasionally, just sit in silence, enjoying the tranquillity of the moment.
During a sun-soaked afternoon, Max teaches you how to steer the yacht. Your fingers brush against each other, and there are shared glances, stolen moments, and an electric charge between you that’s impossible to ignore.
Each day deepens the growing bond between you. There are sunrises watched from the deck, dinners under the stars, and long conversations that last into the early hours of the morning.
One night, as the yacht anchors near a secluded cove, Max takes your hand, leading you to a quiet spot. The moonlight dances on the water, creating a magical atmosphere.
“You know,” he begins, his voice soft, “this trip has been special. Not because of the destinations but because of the company.”
You smile, leaning into him. “I couldn’t agree more.”
A tender moment passes between you, one filled with promise and the potential for something more. The yacht trip might be coming to an end but both of you sense that this journey, this new chapter in your lives, has only just begun.
***
The gentle lull of the waves against the yacht rocks you as the moon hangs low in the sky. The night air is warm and fragrant, carrying with it a sense of peace. Tomorrow, the yacht will dock back in Monaco and reality will catch up with you once more. But for now, you’re content to savor these final moments of the trip.
You find Max leaning against the railing, gazing out at the sea. As you approach him, he turns, his expression softening into a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply, standing beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other.
“I can’t believe the break is almost over,” Max muses, his voice carrying a hint of wistfulness.
You nod in agreement, casting your gaze out to the horizon. “It still feels like a dream.”
Max glances at you, his eyes holding a certain intensity. “You know, I’ve had an amazing time with you.”
A flutter of warmth ignites in your chest at his words. “Me too. The best time.”
The moment is charged with unspoken feelings, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing day. Max’s fingers brush against yours and the touch sends a shiver down your spine.
“I don’t want this to end,” he confesses, gaze never leaving yours.
You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, so understood.”
He cups your cheek with his hand, his touch tender and affectionate. “I feel the same way. And I don’t want this to end.”
The tension in the air is palpable, heavy with anticipation and longing. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the emotions that have been building between you, a kiss that bridges the gap between friendship and something more.
As the kiss deepens, Max’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you under the moonlit sky.
When you finally pull apart, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths mingling. Max’s voice is a gentle murmur against your lips. “I don’t want to rush anything. But I also don’t want to pretend that this connection we have isn’t real.”
You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting the same sincerity. “I don’t want to pretend either. Max, I want to give this — give us — a chance.”
A genuine smile graces Max’s lips and he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “Then let’s take it one step at a time.”
***
“Where to now?” Max asks, his hand lightly touching your arm as the yacht crew busies themselves with docking procedures.
You hesitate, the reality of your situation setting in. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I … I moved here from my home country to be with Charles.”
Max looks concerned. “You can’t stay with him, not after everything.”
“No, definitely not.” You exhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation. “I’ll figure something out. Maybe find a hotel for a few days.”
Before you can say more, Max interjects, “Stay with me.”
You look at him, a bit taken aback. “Are you sure? We’re still navigating whatever this is between us.”
He nods, his gaze steady and sincere. “I know. But I also know you shouldn’t be alone right now. You can take the guest room or,” he pauses, a hint of mischief in his eyes, “the master bedroom, if you prefer.”
A blush creeps up your cheeks at his teasing tone but his offer feels genuine. “Alright but only if you promise not to snore.”
Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head off the yacht. “Deal.”
The familiarity of Max’s penthouse greets you as you step inside. It's comforting and safe, an oasis to escape the shattered memories that line the Monaco streets.
While you unpack, Max makes dinner. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, the city lights casting a soft glow through the apartment.
“Thank you for this,” you say, gesturing around the dining room, the food, the moment. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.”
Max meets your gaze, his blue eyes reflecting warmth and understanding. “You’re not alone in this. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”
The night unfolds, a sense of peace settling between you. Whether it's the soft hum of the city below or the comforting presence of Max beside you, you drift into a deep, restful sleep.
Waking up the next morning, the events of the past weeks feel like a distant memory. But the man beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, is a calming reminder of new beginnings.
With Max by your side, you feel ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that no matter what, you’re not alone.
***
“Are you ready for the madness?” Max asks, offering you a hand as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd at Zandvoort Circuit immediately evident.
Taking a deep breath, you nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The two of you walk hand-in-hand towards the paddock, drawing attention from fans, crew, and media alike. Whispers spread like wildfire but neither of you flinch. Together, you are a united front.
Suddenly, Charles appears from around the corner, his gaze immediately locking onto yours. “So this is the big reveal?” he asks, dripping with condensing sarcasm.
Max steps protectively in front of you. “It’s none of your business anymore.”
Charles scoffs, his eyes darting to the Red Bull VIP pass around your neck. “Jumping ship already? You always were fickle.”
Ignoring the jab, you retort, “You lost any right to an opinion about my life the second you threw away our relationship.”
Charles’ eyes flare with anger. “And you,” he snaps, turning his attention to the reigning world champion, “you think you can just swoop in—”
Max cuts him off sharply, “I think you’ve said enough.”
“You two deserve each other,” Charles hisses before storming off.
Max wraps an arm around you, his touch reassuring. “Ignore him. Today is about the race, about us. Nothing else.”
You nod, taking a deep breath. “Thank you.”
The race itself is thrilling. From Red Bull garage, you watch as Max masterfully maneuvers his car, leading the pack with unparalleled skill. Every turn, every overtake steals your breath. And when he crosses the finish line, the roar of the crowd painting the grandstands orange is deafening.
As Max emerges from his car, he’s immediately surrounded by his team, celebrating yet another victory. And then, spotting you in the crowd, he breaks away, making a beeline towards you. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.
The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment. As you pull apart, Max’s eyes shine with triumph and love. “For you,” he murmurs, holding up the trophy.
Laughing, you pull him close once more. The challenges and confrontations of the day pale in comparison to the joy of this moment. Together, you and Max are unstoppable. And as you celebrate his victory, you know that this is just the beginning of many more triumphant moments to come.
***
The familiar sounds of roaring engines, the scent of burning rubber, and the vibrant energy of the paddock have been a part of your life for years. But being around the Red Bull team feels like a different world compared to your previous experiences with Ferrari.
Christian Horner welcomes you with open arms. “It’s great to have you on board,” he says during a quiet moment in the Red Bull motorhome. “Max seems happier than he’s been in a long time.”
You smile, thinking of the nights spent laughing with Max, the whispered conversations, and reflected dreams. “I’m grateful to be here. And to be with Max.”
Helmut Marko, although initially intimidating with his sharp gaze, soon warms up to you. “Just take care of our champ,” he jokes one evening after another successful race.
As the weeks pass, the bond between you and the Red Bull team strengthens. Daniel Ricciardo becomes a close friend, often joining you and Max for dinner or movie nights. Sergio Perez, with his playful humor, keeps everyone laughing, while the mechanics and engineers teach you the deeper intricacies of the sport.
Yet, it’s not all smooth sailing. The media, always hungry for a story, constantly probes into your relationship with Max. Rumors swirl, some true, most fabricated. Yet, through it all, Max remains your anchor, always supporting and defending you.
One evening, as the two of you relax in his suite after a grueling race weekend, Max turns to you, his eyes serious. “I know this world can be intense, the scrutiny constant. But I hope you know that you’re not alone in this.”
You nod, feeling a swell of emotion. “Being with you, being part of this team, it’s incredible. Like finding a family I never knew I needed.”
Max smiles, pulling you close. “That’s because you are family. And I promise, no matter what, we’ll face everyone and everything together.”
The season progresses, and as Max inches closer to clinching the championship title once again, the excitement within the Red Bull team reaches a fever pitch. Through every high and low, every victory and setback, you stand beside Max, cheering him on.
***
“Easy there!” Christian says, catching you just as the world starts to spin and your vision blurs.
The sound of concerned voices surrounds you as you struggle to stay conscious but it’s too much. Everything goes black.
When you come to, you’re lying on a couch in Red Bull hospitality, Max’s anxious face hovering above yours. “Hey,” he murmurs, relief evident in his voice. “You scared me there.”
“What ... what happened?” you ask, your voice weak.
“You fainted,” Daniel chimes in from nearby. “We’re getting a doctor to check on you.”
True to his word, a doctor soon arrives, performing a series of tests and asking various questions. He recommends a more thorough examination and you find yourself being whisked away to a nearby clinic.
As you await the results, Max holds your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “I’m right here,” he assures you. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together.”
The doctor returns, a knowing smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he says, looking at both of you. “You’re going to be parents.”
The room goes silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. You turn to Max, searching his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry. I ... I didn’t expect this. It’s so soon.”
Max pulls you close, his eyes glassy with tears of joy. “Life has a funny way of surprising us,” he murmurs. “But I know one thing for sure. I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else.”
Your emotions swirl, a mix of surprise, joy, and fear. “Are you sure? What about your career? The media?”
Max silences you with a gentle kiss. “None of that matters. The only thing I care about is us. Our family.”
Tears roll down your cheeks, touched by his words. “I love you,” you whisper, heart full to overflowing.
Max grins, his blue eyes shining. “And I love you. This might be unexpected but it’s the best surprise of my life.”
***
“Three-time World Champion! How does that feel?” A journalist thrusts a microphone towards Max moments after his astounding win in Qatar.
“It’s surreal,” Max responds, his gaze seeking you out among the crowd. “Every championship is special but this one ... it’s different.”
The winter months are a haven of privacy for the two of you in your own little bubble. As the world speculates about the upcoming racing season, you and Max nest away from prying eyes, savoring the anticipation of your growing family.
However, when the 2024 season kicks off, it’s impossible to hide your baby bump any longer. Whispers ripple through the crowd as you walk through the paddock with Max for the first day of preseason testing.
“It’s so obvious now!”
“They look so happy together.”
“She’s glowing.”
But one voice rises above the rest from the sea of murmurs, filled with venom. “So this is your grand plan? Trap Max by getting pregnant?”
You turn to find Charles, his face contorted with anger. You take a deep breath, preparing to face the storm. “Charles, this really isn’t the place—”
Max steps forward, partially blocking you from Charles’ view, his voice colder than ice. “What do you want?”
Charles scoffs, looking you up and down with disdain. “Just wanted to see the spectacle for myself. You always did know how to play the game.”
Max’s eyes flash with anger, his posture tense. “Let me make this clear. You don’t get to disrespect Y/N or our relationship. You lost that right a long time ago.”
“You think this will make him stay with you?” Charles sneers towards you. “That he won’t get tired of you just like he did with all the others?”
Before you can respond, Daniel steps in, his presence commanding and the joking smile that usually graces his face nowhere to be found. “Enough. Show some respect.”
Christian, overhearing the commotion, joins the fray. “Is there a problem here?” he asks, voice firm.
Charles hesitates, glancing around at the united front against him. “No,” he finally mutters, turning on his heel and walking away.
Max’s grip on your hand tightens, his expression stormy. “You know you’re never alone in this, right?” he asks.
You nod, your voice soft but resolute. “I do. And I know you’ll always have my back. Just like I’ll always have yours.”
He squeezes your hand. “Always. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Our family is the most important thing in my life.”
***
The soft hum of chatter surrounds the preschool’s main entrance. Parents eagerly await their children, discussing the excitement of the first day. You stand beside Max, his hand resting protectively on your protruding belly.
“Look, Mama!” A little voice exclaims and two giggling children rush towards you — your daughter, Sophie, and a boy with familiar dark hair.
Before you can respond, another voice joins the fray. “Henri! Over here!”
You turn, finding Charles standing there, Elise by his side, her arm entwined with his. Their eyes meet yours, a mixture of surprise and recognition.
Sophie hugs her little friend, Henri. “This is my new best friend!”
Max bends down, ruffling Sophie’s hair. “That’s great, liefje.” He then stands and addresses Charles, his tone neutral, “Seems our children have taken a liking to each other.”
Charles nods, attempting a smile. “It appears so.”
There’s an awkward silence, the past hanging heavily between you all.
Finally, Elise speaks, her voice quivering, “I’m sorry ... for everything. I never expected things to turn out like this.”
You meet her gaze, seeing genuine remorse. “Life is full of surprises. But it led me to Max and he is the best thing that’s ever been mine.”
Max adds, “What’s important is that we’re all here for our kids. Let’s not make our past their burden.”
Charles sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right. I regret many things but right now, Henri is my world and I want the best for him.”
You place a hand on your belly, feeling the tiny kicks. “Our children have a chance at a fresh start, a friendship untainted by the history of their parents. Let’s not stand in their way.”
The two children, oblivious to the emotional weight of the moment, tug at your arms. “Can we go to the park? Pretty please.” Sophie asks, her eyes shining with excitement.
You smile down at her, “Of course.”
As your two families part ways, there’s a sense of closure. The past, with its pain and betrayal, has been acknowledged, but the future, the innocent laughter of your children, holds promise. Life has moved on, leading each of you down different paths, but in this moment, there’s newfound unity in the shared hope for a brighter tomorrow.
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livbedum · 21 days ago
Text
one conversation part two
maybank!reader x rafe cameron
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summary the aftermath of you and rafe ‘talking’ things out
warnings profanity , smut ( fingering , manhandling , squirting , daddy kink , unprotected pinv , choking , creampie ) more of rafe being an honest little baby because he misses his girl , uh oh! kie kie sees!
18+ minors dni
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you’re not too sure when you and rafe managed to move to his room , but there you were back in his bed. your hair was thrown around the pillows messily as rafe kissed down your body , muttering apologies as he did so. “promise , i’m gonna make up for everything,” he whispered , planting a kiss on your thigh and looking up at you like you were the moon and the stars, “i love you.”
“i love you too,” you sighed , letting your head hit the pillows again as rafe worked to pull your swimsuit bottoms off. the overalls you were wearing earlier had already been discarded on the floor. “i want you , baby,” you added quietly , softly as though anything could tear this moment away from you. a moment you had been vying for for almost a year, “its been so long.”
“too long,” rafe agreed , pulling his shirt off and leaning over you, “never letting you go again. nothing’s coming between us , okay?” he dipped and kissed you deeply , holding your body tight against his. he missed the feeling of you melting into him. he missed everything about you. you were the one thing in this world that rafe could say kept him grounded.
“tell me you love me again,” you asked him , pulling back to look him in the eye. oh , those ocean blue eyes you missed so much. they were always softer with you , opening up like a vault that only you could reach. it had been so long since you’d been close enough to see them sparkle.
“i love you , y/n maybank,” rafe obliged with a soft chuckle , like it was the easiest thing you’ve ever asked him to do. in all fairness it was. “you’re my god given solace. going to marry you one day.” he threw in , grinding your hips into yours for some relief.
you moaned into his mouth , wanting nothing more than for him to just take you like he usually did , but you knew this was different. you knew that as much as you wanted it rough , rafe needed it to be soft. “i need you to stop drinking so much , baby,” you spoke gently , knowing he’d promise you anything in the moment if you said it sweet enough, “for me?”
“i’ll do whatever you want , princess. anything,” he nodded, “let me make love to you first?” he asked , hand moving between you to run his fingers through your folds , pulling a long overdue whine to escape your lips.
as much as you wanted him to just take you and have his way with your body , you knew that rafe needed it to be soft. “yeah , honey. i’m all yours,” you sighed , feeling him push two fingers into you, “do whatever you want to me.”
rafe’s fingers continued to move in and out of you , prepping you for his cock. you were already leaking around him , not having spent any time with yourself lately to get off — not that it would work without rafe. “oh , i’m gonna,” rafe chuckled deeply , unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down with one hand while his other kept busy, “just want you to cum on my fingers first.”
he pushed his hand in deeper , adding another finger. “fuck , ray! want you,” you cried out , hips meeting his hand in attempt to finish sooner. you needed him , not his fingers.
“you’ve always been so impatient , baby. just let me take care of you for once.” his voice was still soft , but you could hear the irritation, “feels like your pussy is just fine with what i’m doing right now,” he laughed , grabbing your neck and making you look at how you took his fingers , leaking and sucking him in. you cried out , watching his thumb reach for your clit and rub at it in time with his fingers fucking you. “just cum for me and i’ll give you what you want.”
your hips were moving , not being able to help all the squirming you were doing. you let you hand reach down and grab him , stroking his cock in tandem with the way he was fingering you. “m’so close , daddy!”
hearing you call him that again only made him shove his fingers into you harder , adding one more to stretch you just that much more. “oh , yeah? i’m your daddy again? huh?” he mocked you , curling his fingers and hitting that sweet spot in you just right, “cum for your daddy then. fucking cum,” he groaned , feeling your cunt tighten around his fingers while yours were busy jerking him off. your hand let go of him , gripping the sheets instead as you squirted around his fingers , high pitched whine filling the air. “agh— just like that , fuckin’ take it,” he moaned , continuing to fuck you as you kept convulsing under him , spraying more of your release onto his legs and sheets.
“will you—“ your request was cut off by rafe shifting down the bed and licking at your glistening folds, “fuck! daddy , s’too much!” you reached down to push his face away , but he held you tight against his mouth , slurping up your juices until he was satisfied.
“fuck , i’m sorry,” he breathed out , coming up from between your legs , his chin dripping with you, “i’ll give you what you want. you want my dick , huh?” he asked you , stroking your cheek lovingly as you nod before giving you a kiss , letting you taste yourself on his tongue, “already got you fucked out. forgot how easy it was for me to do that to ya.”
you laughed breathlessly for a moment , pulling rafe in to kiss you again. “only you do that,” you assured him , wrapping a leg over his hip and pushing him closer , forcing his cock against you, “missed this so much.”
“turn over for me , baby,” rafe instructed , not even giving you the chance to listen as he manhandled you into a position of his liking, “just like that.”
your face was in the pillows , hands in the sheets as you felt rafe guide himself to your sopping entrance. “really tired of waiting over here,” you whined , wiggling your hips. the tip of him caught your opening , letting him slip into you with a moan.
“so impatient,” rafe repeated from earlier , pushing his hips forward until you reached back and put your hand on his hip, “no , no. you don’t get to choose how you want it anymore,” he chuckled , leaning forward and covering your entire body with his. his arm came around your neck , lifting just enough to choke you as he started thrusting. “fucking missed this pussy so much , baby,” he moaned into your ear.
rafe wasn’t stopping any time soon , that much you knew. there had been so much time that had passed since the last time you guys were together ; more than there had been before. you used to know what to expect when it came to a fuck it out session. it was never after such a long time before. the only thing you knew in the moment was you felt good.
“feel so good , daddy,” you whined , pressing a kiss to his cheek as he grunted in your ear , telling you all of the nasty shit he missed doing to you.
you were still on the brink of euphoria when rafe had started his own journey. “fuck , m’not gonna last long,” he moaned , hips already jerking in less fluid motions, “gonna let me cum in this pussy , baby? huh?”
there weren’t even thoughts in your head anymore. just pure bliss ; physically , emotionally , spiritually. your head nodded before you had the chance to think it through. you weren’t on birth control anymore , and it was stupid , but your body was on a different wavelength.
with another , much louder and prolonged , moan , rafe finished inside of you , continuing to fuck his cum into you. “want that shit to stick,” he grunted , kissing the side of your face as he stilled in you.
the sun was starting to set , and you were still at rafe’s , lying in his bed after a shared shower. “why did you bring her around then?” you wondered aloud , laying on rafe’s chest. it had been picking at you since the enduro ; how loudly rafe was with sofia , how he didn’t hide her from his world.
rafe looked at you , reading your face to see if this was going to be a fight. “are you actually asking me?” he questioned , not being able to decipher your motives, “because i—“
“yes , i’m truly asking why,” you assured him, “not trying to fight. i just wanna know things.”
“we met for the second time at a party,” rafe started , drawing on your skin with his finger lazily, “i was already around everyone when they saw us go and hookup , so it wasn’t a surprise. i mean — it’s not like they like her , but they tolerate it , i guess.” he shrugged like this wasn’t a huge thing.
“why didn’t you do that with me then?” your voice was barely a whisper , not even sure if he heard you entirely.
rafe took a deep breath , looking at the ceiling for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “i think— well , i liked you being just mine , but we didn’t tell anyone because we both agreed that it was smarter that way. she isn’t as — i don’t know,” he gave up toward the end , not knowing how to word what he wants to say , with a huff.
“they don’t like her?” you checked , not wanting to love the fact that another girl was hated , but it did make you feel better knowing she didn’t get that much special treatment.
“not at all,” rafe chuckled, “ruthie — oh , my god , ruthie is a fucking bitch. all of the time. kelce is kelce. the other girls are just as monstrous. you’re actually lucky i love you enough to not bring you around them.” it was a sweet sentiment , and it was true. you would’ve hated having to hangout with rafe’s kooky friends all the time.
so , you just nodded and closed your eyes , letting your body melt into rafe’s. “i love you too,” you happily sighed, “but i gotta go. i don’t know if kie— i just gotta go. can you give me a ride?” the sky had become significantly darker since the last time you looked out the window , and you became painfully aware you still had no idea where your brother was.
“yeah , let’s get you dressed and gone,” rafe agreed , rolling out of bed and picking a shirt out of the closet for you.
the drive was quiet ; you and rafe listening to your music he oh so missed as you held hands the entire time. when he came to pull up to the house , you noticed your truck back in its spot. you let kie borrow it to go looking for jj , and she was already home. a good thing because that means she found your brother , but a very bad thing because she would easily be able to see rafe’s truck if she just looked out a window.
“don’t turn the truck off,” you instructed , not wanting kie to hear the roar of his engine when rafe started it back up to leave, “kie’s home , so um—“
“i’ll see you soon,” rafe spoke for you , a soft smile on his lips, “i love you,” he added , leaning over and pressing a kiss on your temple.
“i’ll text you?” you offered , not wanting to leave just yet. you missed this bubble you and rafe lived in. he nodded , assuring you that would be just fine but also understanding that was your way of telling him not to text you first. anyone could see his name pop up on your phone. better safe than sorry.
you got out of the truck , heading to the porch to walk inside before you stopped and turned when you realized what you forgot. rafe rolled his window down , seeing you rush back to him. “i love you too,” you smiled , leaning in the window to kiss him goodbye.
with that , you were confident you could go to sleep with peace tonight. your strides were full of childlike giddiness , like this was the first time you had hung out with your crush. you were happy again , and it was already so easy—
“how come i just saw you and rafe kiss?”
kiara’s voice startled you , causing you to jump and grab the closest thing to you in defense. “jesus , kie! y’know there’s a guy after all of us right now. it’d be nice if you’d announce your presence more obviously,” you gasped , putting down the skateboard you picked up.
“it’d be nice if you’d start talking,” she hummed , giving you one of her fake smiles she’d only reserved for kooks up until now, “hate for this to be some misunderstanding”
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taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales
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slytherinslut0 · 6 months ago
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theodore nott. | you’re mine tonight
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summary: theodore nott is always willing to be used by you. if you’re going to use somebody, just let it be him.
word count: 800
tags: headcanons that once again turned into this. i try to keep things short, apparently im physically incapable🥹 nothing crazy here other then implied fwb, slight angst, reader heartbreak kinda cuz cormac sux, theo being good with words as always, make out session at the end
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Theodore Nott, who watches as you and your situationship, Cormac, argue every single day.
Theodore Nott who sees you cry constantly as a result of these arguments, tonight no unorthodox exception as you come storming back into the Slytherin common room with tears streaming down your cheeks, kicking off your heels and throwing yourself down next to him on a secluded corner couch.
Your eyes, brimming with anguish and pleading for solace, lock onto his, a look he knows all too damn well.
Theodore Nott, who doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to pry, who already knows exactly why you’re here, sitting next to him, when you could be literally anywhere else. He reads the story in your tear-streaked cheeks and your trembling hands. It’s a scene he’s witnessed so many times he’s lost count.
Theodore Nott, who merely closes his book, runs a hand through his tousled hair, and rests the other on your knee. PDA is off the table since you don’t want Cormac to find out—even though he’s been sneaking off with more girls than you have fingers on both hands—so Theo simply looks at you with those steady, knowing eyes and whispers, “your dorm or mine?”
You swallow, grateful gaze shifting toward the door. It’s always so fucking easy with Theo.
“Always yours,” you murmur, rising to your feet and picking up your discarded heels. Without waiting for his response, you start toward his dorm, certain he’s right behind you. He always is.
Theodore Nott, who shuts the door and locks it behind you as the two of you enter. The lights are dim, the shadows of the Black Lake ripple against the walls, and moonlight flickers throughout the room. Theodore Nott, who notices the look on your face well before you do, who can already sense the words that are about to slip past your teeth.
Theo knows well enough by now that you only come to him when you’re hurt, and you never feel good about it until he reassures you it’s okay. He sees it in the subtle shift of your gaze, the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your lips—a silent plea for forgiveness he’s already long granted you.
“I’m sorry, Theo…”
Theodore Nott, who understands you just need someone to hold you right now. Someone who will look at you with warmth, with desire, with need, someone who will give you all of himself in this moment. A shoulder to cry on, bedsheets to lie on.
“It’s okay, bella, don’t apologize…”
Theodore Nott who steps closer, his hands stern yet gentle as they cup your cheeks, drawing your gaze to his. Reverent blue eyes glisten like two oceans, drowning you in their warmth. Theodore Nott who brushes the damp from your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down, grazing his lips over yours, feather-light.
“I’ve said it about a million times, you know I’ve already told you—“
Theodore Nott, who interrupts his own sentence by pressing his lips to yours, inhaling a sharp breath as your salty sweetness ignites in his mouth. Tears mingle with your cherry lip gloss, his hands sliding back into your hair, and he’s lost and then found again—as though you’re the only beacon in a world shrouded in darkness, the answer to all his unspoken questions.
Theodore Nott, who needs this, who wants this just as much, if not more, than you do.
“—if you’re gonna’ use somebody…use me…”
Theodore Nott who practically growls those words into your mouth as fervour takes over, as hunger roars harder and stronger with each passing second. One hand grips your hair, holding your lips to his while the other falls to your blouse, slender fingers undoing the buttons with a speed that leaves you breathless.
“…I’m so fucking willing to be somebody you need…”
His fingers deftly slip the last button free, his hand sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of your skin. The touch sends shivers through you, your body responding to his every move. His lips trail down your jaw, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you gasp. Theodore's grip on your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to his eager mouth.
The room seems to shrink around you, the flickering moonlight casting shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the wild rhythm of your hearts. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense.
"You drive me insane…how much I fucking want you drives me insane," he admits, his breath hitching. "Every time I see you with him…every time I see what he does to you…it kills me…”
Theodore Nott whose words are like gasoline to an open flame, igniting a fierce need within you, scorching while simultaneously taming the desire to be desired. Theodore Nott who groans as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close any distance between you as he shifts you around and begins backing you up toward his bed.
"Show me, Theo," you whisper. "Show me how much you want me."
With a growl, Theodore crashes his lips back to yours, the kiss searing and urgent. He moves with you effortlessly, guiding you towards the bed, never breaking the contact. As you fall back onto the soft sheets, his body follows, covering you completely. His hands roam over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, each touch more intoxicating than the last.
"You're mine tonight," it’s a promise. Not a question. "No one else's. Just mine."
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pretty divider made by: @saradika-graphics
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obbystars · 3 months ago
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Hello! I was amaze by your sabastian x reader fic especially "it's you!" in the flash back part where sebastian where still alive and talking with reader abt going on an aquarium date soooo I want to request the part where they actually having a date at the aquarium they were talking about? That would would be so cute if you ask me!thank u! c:
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(You know what they say. All toasters toast toast!)
(AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM DATE AQUARIUM- sorry. ANYWAY TOTALLYYYY I have been thinking about it lately tbh and I guess this request is kinda a push and my brain is like “OKAY LETS GO IT!” I’m glad you’re liking the fics I’ve been making! I hope you all know I giggle like a maniac whenever you guys say you like them, makes me so happy :)))
Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / AQUARIUM DATEEEEE i’ll stop / takes place before the events of Pressure / FLUFFFFFFF / Connected to both It’s You! and Drown in the Deep, can be read as a standalone / Reader and Sebastian are both still in college / Angst because I couldn’t resist / Fairly short, sorry :(
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“You are so lucky my sister let us borrow her car,”
You lightly batted his arm with a laugh, “You say that like it’s a bad thing,”
“Because she’ll kill me if this thing even gets a small scratch!”
“Mmhmm, and who was the one who offered to drive us there?”
Sebastian gives you a quick glance, but you still noticed the look he gave, “She wouldn’t even be mad at you if you were driving. She adores you for some reason,”
Your eyes widened, “…wait, really?”
“Yeah, last time we spoke, she would not stop asking me about you and when you two can meet up to talk more,”
Well, you made one hell of a first impression. You’re glad she does at least like you and is looking forward to meeting with you again. You feel kind of flattered and relieved.
“So,” you turn to him, “Why can’t I drive?”
“Because I don’t trust you behind the wheel,”
You stifled a laugh as you turned your attention towards the window. You decided to change the subject.
“You know, I’d love to meet your family again. Classes are a pain though. Maybe when we head back, I could stay for dinner? I don’t have that much work piled up on me right now,”
Though faint, you can see him smiling, “I know my sister will be overjoyed to see you. I think my mom likes you too, she never gave me a clear answer on it though,”
Your face drops slightly. Now the pressure’s on. You didn’t exactly talk to his mom last time you were there besides the introduction part of it. As for his brother, you didn’t get a chance to talk to him which made you assume he was shy. You do remember spotting him and his sister eavesdropping on you and Sebastian. He also caught them and wasn’t very happy about it.
When you two finally arrived and were allowed to go in, Sebastian practically had to hold you so you wouldn’t run off due to being so excited. Sometimes he’d keep you in place, other times he’d let you drag him. When looking at the brochure, you were especially excited about the fish that often liked the dark. He still doesn’t see why, but you’re having fun and he’s been enjoying the time here.
“Oh! Sebastian, look!” You exclaimed, “A mantis shrimp!”
The mantis shrimp was just hiding in its little cave.
“It’s a freaky looking thing,” he laughed.
“It is. I heard that they’re capable of tuning the sensitivity of their vision to adapt to their environment. Isn’t that so cool?”
“What I would give to have something like that…”
“I know!” You smiled, “I kinda wish they had anglerfish though. I heard they’re just generally hard to manage, so you never see them in aquariums,”
Sebastian stands up straight and looks at you, “Aren’t those the fish with the light on their head?”
“Yeah. Only the females have it, and it’s used to attract both prey and a mate. They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce, if you want to hear,”
You see him think about it for a minute.
“I’ll bite. How do they reproduce?”
It’s safe to say Sebastian will never ask a question like that again if the sentence prior was “They’ve got a freaky way to reproduce.” What he heard was not what he expected at all. It was parasitic and the image in his head definitely wasn’t pretty.
You continued to tell him fun little facts of a few of the fish you saw. He mostly only responded with a hum or an “oh yeah” but you still continued. He never stopped you as it looked like you were having a lot of fun.
When you got to the long tunnel with the fish swimming around, you both decided to rest there for a bit. It’s been a few hours anyway, plus it’ll be nice to just watch the fish swim by. There were turtles, stingrays, and many others some you could name while others were unfamiliar. There was even a few sea urchin sitting in one of the corners.
You were about to say something until you turned to Sebastian and took a good look at his expression. You smiled and said nothing as you leaned your back against the glass, following where his gaze was. You wonder if this is what he saw in his dream on the night you two discussed on coming here. Drifting in the water as the fish swam around you, you wonder if he felt cold. He said he didn’t feel like he was drowning, so maybe he actually felt warm.
But when you asked if it was a nightmare, he alluded to it. You wonder what he saw… Or maybe he didn’t see anything. Maybe that’s why it was a nightmare, or at least close to it. The dark abyss is a terrifying place as not a lot is known due to the water pressure and the lack of light. Fear of the unknown, so to say.
Your smile faded slightly. You turn to him and lightly give him a shoulder bump.
“Hey, you having fun?”
He continued to stare up at the fish for a moment before turning to you, “If I wasn’t, you’d know. Why? Are you not having fun?” He teased.
“No, I was just making sure,” you laughed.
“To be honest, it gets a bit interesting when you start to nerd out about some of the fish here,” he then smiles, “But I didn’t think you were THAT much of a nerd,”
“Aha-! Yeah, I may or may have not been watching a lot of videos about fish…”
“You were that excited about this, huh? Were you also trying to impress me?”
“No! Not at all!” You paused, “M-Maybe a little..”
Sebastian laughed when you admitted it, then stands up, “We should keep moving. Aren’t the sharks just up ahead?”
“Oh yeah,” you take out the brochure, “It looks like we’re almost done too. We haven’t had lunch yet either. You hungry?”
“A little. Didn’t we pass the food court already?”
“We did… How about we go back and grab something then?”
“As long as you’re paying,”
“Ugh! Fine,”
Sebastian grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. He didn’t let go as you two walked down the hall. You perked up and decided to throw another factoid at him.
“Hey, did you know you can really just redirect a shark by just setting your hand on their nose and gently pushing them the other way?”
He looks at you, not exactly believing you, “It can’t be THAT easy,”
“I’m serious! It is that easy! Maybe it’ll be harder when it’s a great white shark though,”
“Obviously, those things are massive,”
You continued to talk about sharks with him until you two made it back to the food court. Sebastian ended up paying for your food as long as you paid for his.
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Sebastian stares out into the dark abyss beyond the glass. It was usually empty, but sometimes the many-eyed shark was there. And sometimes she’d notice him. He wondered if she recognized him as the one who freed her. He wondered why she stayed when freedom was right there for her. Revenge, perhaps? That he can understand. What he was doing was for the same reason.
Just then, he sees a familiar green glow of the shark passing by. She was close enough to notice him, and for a second, she did look at him. She never really stayed around, nor has he ever heard her speak in his head. He remembers how you spoke of sharks all those years ago. He wondered if you’d think she was a beautiful shark despite what they’ve done to her.
Unexpectedly, she lingers around for a while. He doesn’t pay her any mind as she swims back and forth, occasionally looking at him. He continues to just stare out the window, looking at nothing in particular.
How would you react to him? Would you even recognize him? Remember his voice? Ten years is a long time, after all. Though, he doubts there is even the smallest chance you two could meet, let alone in this facility. He hoped not.
It’s quiet.
He never thought he’d hate silence. It was almost never quiet when you were with him. You always had something to tell him, no matter how small it may have been, and he’d always listen. Even when you don’t think he’s listening, he was. No matter how long you went on and on about something, he was always listening.
Even if he were to be freed from this place, what then? What home does he have to return to?
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girlokwhatever · 6 months ago
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₊˚ପ⊹˚୨୧⋆ ⋆༉‧₊˚.: ̗̀➛ she loves me, she loves me not,,
part 3 ; back and forth
previous part
paige bueckers x fem!reader (fake dating trope)
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it’s been a week since you last saw paige, relentlessly rejecting her invitations to hangout and spend time together.
at first you were able to use the excuse of being sick as you feigned cough over the phone. but after five days, realizing no one else was sick and you sounded relatively fine, she stopped believing you. you only answered her phone calls, typically ignoring her texts and using the excuse of sleeping being the reason you hadn’t ever replied.
she was starting to get annoyed. especially when she saw you out in public with a group of your friends. you lied, and now she caught you red-handed.
she approached your friend group, recognizing a few of them. you were laughing, no cough and no watery eyes from the cold you claimed to have. if anything you seemed great, smile glowing like you didn’t have a care in the world.
“hey, babe!”
“paige- hey.. what are you doing here?” you attempt to keep the cheery tone of your voice alive, smile still plastered on your face.
“i could ask you the same thing.”
“i’ll catch up to you guys later.” you wave yourself goodbye, turning away from your friends in what seems like a loving embrace with paige.
she’s pissed. her brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on her lips as she looks at you. you try to come up with some excuse for being here, something to cover up your avoidance of the woman standing in front of you. nothing comes to mind though and you’re stuck in the awkward silence for a few moments.
“are we just gonna pretend like you haven’t been lying to me for a week?”
“i haven’t.”
“right. i can obviously see how deathly sick you are.”
the reality of your behavior started to sink in, guilt trickling into your consciousness. you knew you had your reasons though, even if it wasn’t properly executed.
after the party last weekend everything shifted for you. you knew it could only end one way and figured taking matters into your own hands wouldn’t be too bad. if you pushed her away, maybe whatever was going on between the two of you would fade.
it wasn’t. it consumed paige’s every breath. every thought and emotion. once she figured out you probably weren’t actually sick, her heart sank. she couldn’t understand what was going on with you or your ‘relationship.��� your lack of communication didn’t help much either.
“i don’t really want to talk about this.”
“then what else should we talk about? maybe we should talk about how all my friends are asking where my girlfriend went and i have to make up some lame excuse on why you refuse to talk to me. let’s talk about that. or maybe we can talk about how you’ve completely shut me out. or do you have nothing to say? like you’ve had nothing to say for a while fucking week.”
“shut up.”
“no, i-”
“shut up. bianca is like, ten feet away.”
she’s about to turn her head (amateur move) in the direction you’re looking but you stop her, managing to cup your hands around her face in time. her eyes still wander around trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything, but decides you’re the best view.
even though she’s mad, upset, and honestly hurt that you lied, she can’t feel that way forever when you look like that. you’re looking straight into her eyes like you’re searching for something. paige’s eyes scan over you in your entirety, especially landing on your lips every now and then.
and it’s as if, by some miracle, you understand what her eyes are saying. her eyes are saying something her words can’t and won’t say. without giving yourself time to process your decision, you pull paige in by the sides of her face and kiss her.
it’s surprisingly slow and sweet, only lasting a few seconds. you thought you’d panic into it but it just felt so natural. paige’s hands find solace on your hips, pulling you closer when you part from her lips.
she doesn’t know if bianca is still watching and honestly doesn’t even care. she pulls you into a kiss of her own, this one being much more desperate and heated. you have to grip the back of her neck to steady yourself as she pulls you further into her space. the kiss lasted longer than either of you intended, finally pulling away and fighting for air.
paige is still so close to you, holding your body against hers. she leans in, kissing your forehead, then moves her face down to your ear, “don’t ever avoid me like that again.”
you nod at her words, not taking the time to comprehend how serious her tone is. when you turn your head you catch a glimpse of bianca and she’s already staring back at you, a deep frown settled on her face. you look away from her instantly and focus back on paige, who is still standing in front of you with her hand on your cheek.
“i’m so sorry i did that, i really should’ve asked first.”
“nah, don’t apologize. girlfriends kiss, right?”
you experience a whirlwind of emotions almost instantly. realizing everything that’s happened in the span of five minutes astonishes you undoubtedly. you can’t believe you kissed paige, and even more so than that, you can’t believe she kissed you back. out of her own free will, she pulled you back into another kiss.
paige was probably the best you’ve ever had too, but you don’t really have her.
it’d been a few weeks since the beginning of your scheme with paige. things were starting to go better, get more casual. she was sitting on your couch next to you, your legs draped over hers as you watched a movie together.
you never ended up officially talking about the kiss or the fact that you ignored her. you were thankful that she just let those moments pass because you honestly had no idea what kind of excuse you could make up for either.
paige’s hand brushed through your hair and gently pulled out any tangles as she went. it was sweet, loving even. anyone from an outside perspective would think it to be highly romantic.
“hey, i think im gonna go out with my friends tonight. eva’s trying to plan this friend get-together thing.”
she turns to you, peeling her eyes away from the screen. her gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, something you don’t notice because you’re texting eva back.
paige can’t help but to think about how beautiful you are, especially when it’s her shirt you’re wearing. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, even before your predicament, but it feels much more intimate now.
“that’s cool. where’re yall gonna go?”
“to a club i think. eva’s a party girly.”
“like you?”
you feign a gasp, finally looking at paige. she’s looking back at you with a grin because she loves to tease you and she loves being right.
“like me?! i’m not,” you’re shaking your head in denial. there’s still a smile on both of your faces when you lock eyes. paige’s hand stills in your hair, traveling down to the back of your neck.
she hardly even registers that she pulls your face into her, meshing your lips together. she kisses you, slotting her lips between yours in a delicate moment of intimacy. you kiss her back like it’s second nature to you. you find so much peace and comfort in paige that you practically forget she’s only your friend.
you’re pulling away first with wide eyes and pinker lips. paige also seems to be snapping back to reality, immediately standing up and apologizing.
“shit- princess i’m so sorry. i just forgot-”
you cut her off; the awkwardness of the moment being close to unbearable, “it’s okay paige. i’m just gonna..”
“yeah, you should.. y’know.”
“yeah.. i’ll go get ready. you can um..”
“i’ll just go, yeah. i’ll see you later.”
“see ya.. i’ll, y’know, text you later.”
“sounds good.”
she leaves you to the silence of your apartment, the soft hum of the air conditioning suddenly seeming so deafening. paige’s voice buzzes in your ear as you stare at her spot on the couch. millions of emotions and revelations wash over you like holy water, and finally the stars seem to align for you. you finally have some semblance of understanding as to why.
you feel a tear trickle down your face, rolling over your cheek and eventually down your chin. you sit back down on the couch while more tears continue to fall, a choked sob escaping you before you even register how upset you really are.
you love paige. it was so hard to admit to yourself, guilt creeping in at the thought that maybe, in some way, bianca was right. it had been a long time since you loved bianca, always naturally gravitating towards paige more and you could see how that would hurt her. there was no physical cheating, but mentally you had always been with paige.
paige is the best you’ve ever had relationship-wise, but you can never have her. she’s this untouchable entity, one that could ruin your life if you let her. if you get with her, bianca was right and no one can deny it.
you think that maybe you put yourself and paige in this position on purpose subconsciously because this was the only way you felt like you could have her. maybe it was a form of further.
but now that your situation is actually live, it’s slapped in your face how fake it is. none of those feelings were real for her. it was all a game you two were playing.
maybe you were right. you couldn’t have her.
you wiped your tears away, pulling yourself off the couch and towards your room. you needed to escape into your own form of reality, one that wouldn’t come back to haunt you.
since you’ve finally been able to successfully admit your unrealistic and unrequited feelings for paige, you can begin to move on from them. maybe tonight you could find something to help you move on. or someone.
⍣ ೋ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊🀥·˚ ༘
GUYS I WILL SPELL CHECK THIS SOME OTHER TIME
why do i feel like this series makes zero sense
guys if you have genuine feedback pls lmk PLS
like is this even good anymore seriously.
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jeongin-lvr · 11 months ago
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💭 ׄ ︵͡ obediant little thing, k. taehyun
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꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍,𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 & 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 & 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅,𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗒𝗎𝗇,𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍,𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀/𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀,𝗆𝖾𝗇��𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗌𝗆𝗌,𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗆,edited!
[ 𝟣𝟤𝟧𝟪 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ✩ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ✩ [ 𝗆.𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]
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𝗧𝗔𝗘𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡’𝗦 voice echoed off the walls, soft and deliciously smooth as he bore down at you, one hand beside your messy head of hair, the other holding the base of his cock, guiding it teasingly toward your pussy. Your legs spread wide just as he instructed you to, your eyes wide and mind fluttery as if you could only see stars. Everything felt floaty after almost two hours of pried orgasms from your body, all under the rouse of Taehyun needing it from you— like a drug. His drug. Each time he prompted you to orgasm with his thick, vein ridden hands, you'd obviously obey. Your cute princess parts would have no choice; you were trained too well to not do as you were told.
Now, Taehyun was determined to have that same outcome from you just coaxed by his dick. He was itching to sink into your cunt, but he could practically smell how lustful you were. Each time his pink, thick tip would poke at your swollen slit you'd whine about how badly you need it— how it was unfair.
It was unfair, Taehyun thought in agreement, yet the torturous foreplay never ended. Taehyun knew he'd eventually give you exactly what you want; he could never tease you for too long, he could never deny his princess what she desired.
Taehyun bent to your face, inches away and breathless, ears red and tongue sharp as he opened his mouth with a mean smirk, "Aw, baby, look at you... I could just slip right in, yeah? You're so fucking wet, it'd be so easy, wouldn't it?"
Your hands rested on his shoulders, eyes almost tearful as a choked out (desperate) sob consumed you, coming out in whines and coughs, "Daddy, oh, please! I need you— You're the only one w-who can make me f-feel good, ah..." you bit your lip, eyes fallen to the place where his dick slid between your folds with ease, collecting the clear arousal.
"Shh, I know, I know," Taehyun cupped your cheek, opting to rest his cock in the crook of your cunt, resting on your overstimulated, swollen clit, making your grip on him tighten, "Just a little more... be patient. You can do that can't you? You can be daddy's good girl for me, right?"
You met his eyes, chocolate irises seemingly glowing as if he was holding the galaxy in them. Thick rolls of sweat glided down his face, claiming solace at his chin until they dripped down to your tits; his soft pink, fluffy hair falling in a makeshift curtain to the sides of his face, making him seem darker than he really was. Taehyun’s pretty smile was on show, but right now it seemed so mean and taunting, so cruel on your poor body. You had bruises on your tummy and hips from his hands forcing your rutting hips down in the shape of fingerprints; soft red marks along your tits and collarbone from his lips, etching into your skin like a burning tattoo; even tainted bite marks that seemingly seared your skin in the form of canine shapes.
Your body felt so dirty and sticky, covered in cum and sweat that stuck to you. Face covered in your boyfriends own spit he'd smeared all over your face along with your peach lipgloss. He loved that flavor so much— so much so he had to see it smashed into your skin and your pretty face all ruined with sin.
You finally nodded once the stars shot past your vision, finally allowing you to speak somewhat coherently, "Yes, daddy..."
Taehyun pecked your swollen lips, "That's my good girl."
Taehyun slipped his cock up and down your soaked folds, the feeling almost dizzying. Your mind was threatening to crumble, his cock just as desperate as you were. However, he needed to savor the feeling. Make the image of you underneath him, writhing and covered in mess, a permanent memory.
You whimpered softly, allowing him to rut into the soft plush of your cunt until your mind melted into mush. Fucked dumb before he was even inside your gummy pink walls.
Before you could even say anything, he was gripped your thighs, pulling them apart with ease, eyes full of intention. You watched, eager to see the grand show he was about to give you. Taehyun’s cock looked so pretty covered in your own precum; the tip was a fiery shade of red, thick indecent globs of cum running down the shaft as he finally took it by the base, aligning your sexes.
"Such a good... girl," Taehyun moaned shakily, not realizing how badly he needed you in that moment until his tip sunk in, just sitting there, stretching you out just enough to hear your moans, "So obedient and patient... might just reward you. Might have to breed this pretty pussy, yeah, bubs?"
You were quick to nod, inhaling sharply as you tried your best to keep your eyes open. However, he never sunk in further, steady as he stood there with his cock barely inside of you. You grew frustrated, nails digging into his skin as your teeth ground together to keep your sudden wave of brattiness in check. You watched him smirk, twisting his hair out of his face as he stared down at your clenching walls.
"Tyun, please! No— no more teasing!" You begged, more sobs leaving your chest in quick breaths, a wave of tears rushing down your cheeks and into your ears, "Just— just fuck me, please, can't— I can't—!"
Taehyun pitied you, cooing as he bent forward to your lips again, close enough to feel your breath hitch.
"Okay, okay, I won't tease anymore, princess," Taehyun bent to capture your lips, but stopped halfway, mouth upturning into an attractive smirk. Just before reaching your lips, his cock filled you up in one quick thrust, already painfully wet walls stretching out in an instant. You moaned out long and loud, letting him hear the pure pleasure he was bringing you. Taehyun admired your look, eyes almost crossed and shiny with tears, lips glossed and red, "There ya go, pretty... all full now... just like you wanted, baby."
You continued to moan, clenching and on the verge of unwinding like a spool of yarn. Your back arched, his position deep and hitting your favorite places; every vein of his dick pressed into you and molding to your walls.
"Aw, what's wrong? Can you take it, Angel?" He asked so coyly, knowing you would never admit it. Your eyes shot wide and you moaned out a 'no' that sent shivers down your poor, aching body, "No? So you want me to move... you want me to fuck you dumb with my cum until you're all full and round with my baby? Want me to make you a mommy, princess? Is that it?"
He was putting words in your mouth but all of them were true. You nodded eagerly, a fat tear streaming down your face. Taehyun moaned and kissed it away, easing your pain before his hips rutted into yours. More fluttery moans, desperate and breathy as he slowly began moving.
"Say it. Say it for me, baby."
"Fuck me— fuck me till I'm all full, n-need you!"
And so Taehyun did. Making sure that in the process you felt every inch of him. Every ounce of pleasure he could offer you. Taehyun smiled, pecking over your sensitive features, collecting the tears between his lips as he gave you exactly what you wanted. Finally.
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merakiui · 1 year ago
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crow & goat in courtship.
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yandere!rollo flamme x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, dub-con, coercion, religious symbolism/imagery, mentions of pregnancy, implied breeding kink, obsession, alcohol/intoxication, slight codependency, non-consensual touching/groping, au in which you attend classes at nbc instead of nrc under rollo's supervision note - the crow is always on call.
i. “but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death” (james 1:14-15).
Rollo answers on the third ring.
He always does—claims it’s polite to answer after three chimes just as it’s right to knock thrice before entering a residence. He’s stubborn in his ways, a crow bound by routine, only ever doing things in threes. Habitual to a fault, strictly so. You are similar in that regard; you find solace in the familiarity of predictable patterns. The relief that stems from knowing what will come next—in being prepared for all manner of events even if you haven’t yet reached the first.
But then you also like fun, and the best sort of fun is often had with a disregard for habit. Disorder and spontaneity. Throwing all caution to the wind. Trusting in the arms of the crow who will catch you, the carefree goat, when you fall.
“Good evening,” he mutters into the phone, his voice sounding so close despite the distance between you and him. “It’s rather late. Is there a specific reason you’re calling?”
“Rollo! Hey! Hiii,” you drawl, grinning like a fool. You stagger through the door into the chilly, starless night, your heels slipping on cracked, frozen pavement. “Whoa!” You stumble against the railing with a carefree giggle. “Almost lost my footing!”
There’s a stalling silence on his end. And then, with a deep inhale, he asks evenly, “Have you gone out?”
“Mm. Yeah. Went out to celebrate with some friends.”
“Some friends?”
“Like one or two…or a whole house full of ’em.”
“(Name).”
“What?” When he doesn’t reply, you laugh. Not because it’s humorous or embarrassing, but to merely fill the silent gap. “What? Roro, you’re sho stern. Don’t lecture me!”
“So you’ve been drinking.”
“What?! No!” With an offended scoff, you shake your head even though he’s not here to witness it. “You know NBC’s no-booze rule. I’m not gonna get caught—won’t get caught.”
“You slurred your speech and called me ‘Roro’—both in the same sentence, mind you.”
“So what? Rollo, Roro. Tomato, potato.”
“It’s to-may-to, to-mah-to. And—” he exhales an exhausted breath— “Never mind. That’s besides the point. Why, pray tell, have you called me at midnight?”
“Why’re you up at midnight?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“Not fair! I asked first!”
“Not quite.” There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks next. “If I were to visit your room right now—knock on the door and wait there—would you let me in?”
“Yeaaah,” you start to say, only to catch yourself halfway in the trap. “No!”
“No?”
“No…thank you. No visitors tonight. S’late and I gotta study for tomorrow’s exam.”
“And a party will somehow aid in that endeavor? (Name), you do realize you’ve spun one too many lies and now you’re woefully entangled.”
“Less poetry and more picking me up.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”  
“Rollo, please be nice,” you whine, your lips twisting into a pout. “S’cold and I didn’t bring a jacket and I’m kinda-maybe-sorta a little…”
“A little…?” he encourages, and you can just envision that self-satisfied smirk of his.
“A little-drunk-but-also-not-really-drunk-but-also-totally-drunk,” you hastily admit in a string of syllables. Snowfall swirls around you, and you grasp the bannister to prevent yourself from falling over. “Oh, it’s snowing.”
“I can see perfectly clear from my window. Beautiful, is it not?”
“So stop being an obtuse dick and come get me before I freeze!”
“Should that come to pass, you may just rival the Righteous Judge at the entrance. I’ll be sure to polish you every month.”
“I’m gonna kill you. I’m gonna poison your coffee and watch you drink it, and then we’ll see who’s stiffer than a statue. It’ll be you—in death, y’know!”
“Will you now?”
“If you don’t pick me up, yeah!”
There’s the distinct sound of shuffling. You hear crisp pages turning and then a book closing before the rustling of fabrics invades your keen ears. You picture your responsible friend pacing around his room as he dresses himself for the weather.
“Very well,” he says after a moment, ever the composed gentleman. “Send me the address.”
“You’re the best. Love you lots. Thank you! Thank you!” You press your lips together to mimic obnoxious kissing sounds, which elicits a huff of amusement from him. “It’s not a far walk. Promise.”
“Stay on the phone with me. I’ll be there shortly. And don’t go anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“You do realize sneaking out is against the rules, yes?”
“Aaand here comes the lecture. Gimme a break. Can’t a girl celebrate her birthday in peace?”
You drag your hand over your mouth and wipe sticky wine residue away. In the process, you smear black lipstick. Dark like night, like a crow’s inky feathers, it leaves your once-flawless appearance in disarray.
“There are much better ways to celebrate. Did I not say I’d take you into town this weekend and we could celebrate then?”
“That’s so far from now.”
“It’s three days away, (Name).”
“Still too far.”
“Don’t expect me to provide cover if you get caught.”
“And you can just leave campus whenever you please?”
“This is different.”
“Yeah?” You giggle into the speaker, warm and fuzzy and endlessly entertained. It’s enough of a distraction to keep winter from seeping into your marrow. “How so?”
“This is official Student Council business.”
“Really?” you ask with an impressed whistle. 
“Indeed. On account of my being President, it’s only natural I punish students who conduct themselves poorly. Shall we review your list of infractions and decide on a suitable penalty together?”
“I’d rather we not.”
“Oh, but I insist. Perhaps our discussion and the cold will sober you and teach you a valuable lesson about integrity.”
With an exaggerated sigh, you lower onto the step to await his arrival. The icy stone digs harshly into your rear, which is hardly covered by your too-short dress. It’s definitely not fingertip length or weather-appropriate. You shiver and stuff your hand into the pocket of your cropped sweater. You should take shelter inside, where it’s plenty cozy and inviting, but your inflated pride disagrees. Retreating to the warmth after you’ve already bid farewell would be foolish. At least, that’s what the alcohol in your system is telling you.
So the goat endures the cold, for it knows that that is all that awaits it as the crow closes in.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m an academic criminal. Get on with it, President Flamme.”
“Let’s see. You’ve disobeyed campus curfew, snuck out on a school night, attended a party when your grades could use improvement, neglected your studies, drank carelessly, called the one person who can and will punish you for this and the aforementioned…”
The sound of crunching snow pierces the air then, and you look up in time to see Rollo approaching. He’s dressed in a long woolen overcoat with a scarf twined around his throat and a hat pulled down over his ears. He smirks at you from where he stands on the pavement, cutting the call and sliding his phone into his pocket. Tilting his head at you, he pulls another coat from under his arm and offers it to you.
“And you’re dressed for your death.”
“Okay, that one’s personal.”
Rolling your eyes, you rise on unsteady legs. He meets you at the stairs, climbing two of them to help you into the coat. It’s an embrace more welcoming than that of a lover’s, so soft and comfortable that it immediately rejuvenates your weary skeleton. It smells like Rollo, too—like coffee and weathered pages in an old book. You hum your approval, snuggling into the fluffy fabric. He’s plopping his hat on your head next, tugging it so far down that you almost slip on the slick stoop. Like he always has, ever since he first met you, he catches you. 
“Hello to you, too.”
You blink back at him. “Yeah, thanks. I owe you.”
“Let me see your hands.”
He takes them in his, runs his thumbs over the tops, and then procures mittens from his pockets. You watch him slide both over your hands, rubbing them together briefly to generate heat at a faster rate. Your body sways, gaze unfocused. He’s just about to unwind his scarf from his shoulders when you reach out to stop him.
“I’m good. This is enough.”
“You’ll catch your death—”
“And you won’t in just a coat and scarf? At least let me give you your hat back.”
He shakes his head, holding his hand up in objection. “You’ve been out in this weather longer. It’s only fair. But, really, did you have to wait out here? Couldn’t you have gone inside?”
“My pride’s on the line.”
Rollo’s unamused stare cuts through you. “You won’t have much pride left if you’re encased in ice.”
“Then we’d best get moving. Campus awaits!”
You wrap your arm around him, clinging out of instinct. Rollo peers at the proximity, his lips upturned in a covert half-smile, and his arm snakes slowly around your waist in return. You don’t notice this, for you’re too busy dragging your feet through the snow while he acts as a helpful crutch, stable in a way you just aren’t. Not right now, at least.
But then the goat is never stable enough to survive the inevitable—the swift, sacrificial blade that befalls and beheads, leaving gory spatters to run red and visceral in the wake of the end.
You’ve never known, and you never will. How could you when he’s been nothing but cordial? A clean slate. Admirable guidance. A helpful friend. Your only friend.
The crow descends in three knocks. He lets himself in regardless of whether you wish to have him as a guest. He is unwanted and feared, the very foundation of death and destruction, and he has set his beady eyes on you—the goat.
It’s common knowledge that you cannot pray away the crow. He persists, as always, quiet even when his wings beat against his sleek, feathered body like the loudest war drums. And the caw—the dreadful caw! It’s a most disturbing cry, one that pierces through the dark like jarring slivers of light in shadow. Or a butcher’s blade through flesh, sawing through sinew to get to brilliant bone beneath. The hoarse call of Death’s crows—they circle in a murder, swooping down to meet you as harbingers of malevolence.
Rollo has always strived to lead a virtuous existence defined by a rigidly righteous moral compass. In the gloomy pits of misery and hatred, where he festers in a bundle of tar-colored feathers, he does not hope for sunshine. He no longer knows the uplifting ebullience of life’s greatest miracles. Because there is no miracle in death or tragedy. Because there is no happiness to be found in a doomed hand, every card showcasing Death and its many forms. Not for him. Never for him.
But then, amidst the despair and despondency, each all-consuming, a goat fell into his lap.
A divine offering to the crow, who is so far from divinity himself, can only mean one thing. It is neither conciliatory nor a reward.
It is a sacrifice.
But then the City of Flowers adores its goats—reveres them for all that they are. Goats are cherished, not sacrificed. But to drag a nameless, magicless goat from the grounds of its far-off, inconceivable pasture—is that not the cruelest form of sacrifice? To drop this goat into the equitable embrace of the crow—is that not the sweetest gift? Generous yet unfair. Plucked right from the folds of another heaven.
The mortal coil can be callous, which is precisely why the crow is permitted to exist in impartiality. Death does not care for who you were in life and who you will be in the next, and the crow only ever oversees finales. Never beginnings. Much like a deity does not care for what good you can do if you do not first adore them in copious adequacy.
The crow carries with him a most fearsome knell—the chime of judgment, to be delivered right on time like an execution staged for noon.
All throughout life, you can plan for the crow and all that he shall deliver, and still you will never be fully prepared to greet him. He brings misfortune bundled in baskets woven from the bones of sacrifices past. In holy scripture, it is the goat who is punished most often—who is slaughtered at the altar, who is arranged as peace to quell the torrential fury of the deity, who is made to suffer at the hands of those hoping to avoid damnation or godly wrath, who is meant to shoulder the blame when no one else wants to. Favors have been bought with the blood of the goat, its head nestled amidst verdant grasses, pure forevermore even when it is dyed carmine. It appeases and pleases.
So it’s just—religiously so—that the crow takes the goat for himself, strips it bare, and proves to the prying eyes in heaven that the greatest sin is more than lustful temptation.
For the crow—for Rollo—the heaviest sin, a vile, cursed burden from his very first breath—it is existence itself.
And only the blood of a pure goat can wash away such filth—can cleanse what has been rotting within. The goat can make a garden out of the crow—bring life and love to its barren insides regardless of however fleeting its presence may be. It is within this garden—within the softest, fertile soil—where the crow shall sow the most special seeds.
You cross the bridge with Rollo, your laughter filling the cloudy sky as you recall all manner of amusing stories from the past few hours. Drinking games paired with drunken gossip. Delicious wines and snacks. A party with an energy so lively it could rival the city’s annual festivals. Even though he doesn’t seem outwardly pleased to hear any of it, he listens well and occasionally stops to steady you before you can topple over the railing into the water below. Your heels clack against smooth, frosted stone, and the wind whips at your face, each snowflake biting and vicious. Noble Bell’s vast campus waits just beyond the wrought iron gate, standing proud and backdropped by the night.
“You think anyone’s up?” you ask, curling your fingers into his arm as he guides you through.
Rollo eases the gate shut. “They might if they hear you. It would be best to keep quiet.”
You pantomime zipping your lips and discarding a nonexistent key. He quirks a small smile at that and then hurries you along. Nights are always peaceful at Noble Bell. The halls are desolate and quiet, devoid of all signs of student life. Your and Rollo’s shoes click in unison as you walk through the hall and past the courtyard. You gaze at the arched openings, counting each one as they become fainter with the growing distance.
Your breath materializes in front of you when you sigh. “I’m so sleepy. I wanna go to bed for a thousand years.”
“You’ll miss your exam if you do that,” he chides, tutting. “And every other exam that will follow.”
“That’s the point!” Your voice bounces off the walls, returning to you in a reverberating echo. Cringing under Rollo’s disapproving glower, you speak softer. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Just how much have you had to drink? You can hardly walk straight without leaning on me for support.” He narrows his eyes, his lecherous gaze crawling down to your bare legs. “Not that I mind…”
His words don’t reach you, for they’re swallowed in a howling gale as it sweeps across the courtyard. You spy the dormitories then, each one looking more like gingerbread covered in confectioners’ sugar instead of buildings dusted with snow. Your eyelids droop while you cross the distance to reach your designated building, your every movement feeling slower than molten molasses, and by the time you’re actually inside the dorm—Rollo’s shushed you more than once—you’re yearning for the warmth of your bed.
So it’s bewildering when, rather than your own room, you stop at Rollo’s instead.
He opens the door and steps inside with you in tow. You keep your mouth shut, too tipsy to think coherently. After he clicks the lamp on, which leaves the room awash in soft shades of amber, he shrugs his coat off, draping it over a nearby chair. You drag yourself over to his bed and flop down, squeezing your eyes shut to block out both the light and your spinning surroundings. Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you hear him shuffling about his room, crossing to close and lock the door before walking back towards you. The mattress dips under his weight, and you feel nimble fingers working to undo the buttons on your coat.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” you ask, cracking your eyes open just as he’s pulling the coat from your person.
Rollo folds it neatly and sets it aside. “You’re practically melting into my bed already. It would be quite the undertaking to make the walk back to your room at this hour.”
“So considerate,” you tease, grinning up at him. Sleep stretches your expression into something dazed, and you yawn loudly. “Then I’m gonna sleep here. Wake me up before class.”
You almost drift off, but those frigid fingers are moving to tug you out of your sweater next. They crawl across your bare shoulders like a spider on a web.
“You really are something,” he marvels, glancing at your body sprawled beneath him. “To brave the cold in such thin material…”
“Stupid choice. I know.”
“It appears we’re in agreement.”
“Shut up,” you snap back with a weak laugh. “You’re no better, showing up so cozy and then giving everything to me.”
Rollo memorizes the way the form-fitting dress hugs your figure. He inhales a shaky breath and brings his hands back to his sides. Your chest is right here. So close. So frustratingly close.
He can’t indulge. He really shouldn’t. It’s unbecoming to show such unfair favorability when he’s meant to remain impartial. Death should not lust for the beauty of life because it only knows endings—or the beginnings of ghostly eternity. The crow should not allow himself to be swept up in tumultuous temptation.
And the goat is the only friend he’s known—the only one who understands the crow, if only by a few meager slivers. But someday the goat will know.
Rollo swallows his inhibitions, beating his urges away with a stick. He’s not one for rash decisions; he’s meticulous and thoughtful. He would never take such a risk—would never nosedive into a crude confession. He’s plotted it in his diary, but it’s never come to fruition. He restrains himself because he must. Because it’s the polite and proper thing to do when caught up in courtship. Because if he opens his torso and allows you to poke around inside, you’ll find that he is not the friend you’ve known for all these months.
He is a fiend, devilishly so, wearing the hide of a goat to put the real one at ease.
Warring with rationality, he slides away from you and intends to recover at his desk. He’ll scrawl all of the things he wishes to do to you in there and that will be enough. That will help clear his head of the intoxicating fog that settles whenever he’s with you in private. But then he’s reaching to untie the canopy draped over his bed, each corner undone within seconds. The sheer curtains fall in thin layers, confining the both of you to this island in the middle of a barren sea. It’s darker in here, dimly lit by the faint glow of the lamp outside.
You blink up at him, owlish.
“You…” He stops himself, shakes his head, and turns away. Hastily, he fishes his handkerchief from his pocket. With this enclosed propinquity, he can smell your perfume. It’s spiced and flowery—alluring and adorable all at once—and it assaults both his nose and mind. “You should sleep. It’s late.”
This is for the best. The crow is only meant to look after the goat, remain unaffected even in the face of lustful, fateful sacrifice.
But you’re here. You’re splayed like a spill, perfectly imperfect, and your shoulders are a canvas coveting kisses. He clutches his handkerchief in a white-knuckled fist.
“Mm, okay. Night…”
“Yes… Yes, good night,” he mumbles, lowering his handkerchief. He swallows thickly.
This is for the best.
But even though he thinks this, his arm is stretching out. Closer. Closer. So close, until his hand is hovering just above your chest. He’s so close.
When will he ever have another chance as fortuitous as this?
His hand closes around your breast and he squeezes it experimentally. It’s soft when his fingers dig in gently, depressing with the pressure of his digits. Rollo’s green hues flick to your face. Your eyes are shut, and soft snores slip from your parted lips. He glimpses your chest again and, with the utmost care, slides your dress down to free your breasts. They’re mostly bare, save for the heart-shaped pasties covering your nipples. Rollo heaves a disbelieving sigh.
“Promiscuous,” he mutters, plucking the edge of the first adhesive and peeling it away to reveal the perky nipple beneath. You look so soft, so clean, so pure… What was he even worried about? No one’s had you before. He’s sure of it.
He’s about to remove the other heart when your voice freezes him.
“What…are you doing?”
He holds your gaze. It’s tense for a moment, unspoken accusations brewing between the both of you.
“A massage,” he blurts, but there isn’t a hint of haste in his tone. He suspected this outcome when he chose to traverse the line of right and wrong—and ultimately sided with the former. Because to him it’s right, even if it’s wrong. He knows what will soon follow: disgust and detestation.
Instead, you giggle. It’s sleepy and silly-sounding, but it’s also light and lively.
You catch his hand in yours and drag it back to your chest. “If you wanted to touch, just ask,” you murmur, your words slurring. “Nothin’ wrong with it.”
You’re not just perfect and pure. You’re everything.
Yes, it’s the alcohol blurring your brain and the intimacy of being trapped in a quiet, comfortable space such as this one that allows you to desire him. Would it be the same if you were sober? He can’t quite say, but he doesn’t wish to know. This is enough. This is paradise.
He kneads slow, steady motions into your breast, and you watch from where you’re lying on the bed. His other hand slithers between your legs to search for your clothed clit. Your breath hitches just as his fingers brush it, and he presses in, rubbing with his index. Your arm falls over your face, and your chest rises with every breath.
“How does it feel?” he asks, rolling your nipple between chilly digits.
“Not enough,” you bemoan, curling your fingers into a fist. “S’not enough…”
“How fascinating. I suppose cheap wine truly does turn you into a pute.”
“No… Was definitely expensive. The fancy kind.”
“Was it now?” He circles your clit, predatory and shark-like, his eyes alight with glee. “You say that, but look at the state it’s left you in. Utterly disheveled.”
“That’s because of—” you gasp, your voice rising in pitch— “because of you…”
His heart hammers in his chest, a resounding, pounding melody.
The City of Flowers treasures its goats, and the crow loves his fiercely even though he shouldn’t.
“Did you enjoy drinking yourself foolish and indulging in debauchery?” His fingers dance along your inner thigh, hooking around the hem of your underwear. “Was it a fun celebration?”
You lower your arm to glare halfheartedly at him. “Someone sounds jealous.”
“More so disappointed, mon chou chou,” he coos, sugary, sickeningly sweet. “Someone could have taken advantage of you. Someone could have tainted you with magic.” His lip curls up into a nasty sneer. It lingers for a moment before fading into something calm. He gazes at you, oddly tender. “That didn’t happen, though, yes?”
You shake your head and flinch when he drags your panties down. Dewy strings of your slick come away with it, and you shudder at your newfound nudity. He hums approvingly and drags his finger through the wet patch staining your panties. Driven by libertine compulsion, he stretches viscous strands of your essence between two fingers.
Your eyes find his deceitful greens once more. Silence sparks between the both of you, quickly broken by your exhalation. Rollo kneels before you, taking in the sight of you as your face wavers through the stages of consideration. Upon arriving at your conclusion, you sit up slightly and shuck your dress over your head. And then you’re lying back, shaking your panties from off your ankle, and wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him in closer. 
You grin, coquettish. “Why not search for yourself if you’re so worried, Mr. Student Council President?”
There’s no turning back. Not that he ever would. Not when the goat’s given him the signal. The blade doesn’t fall, but he does.
And this is better than dreams and erotica. This is real.
He surges forward to fit his lips against yours. Sloppy and inexperienced, he molds himself to your body. You tug him against you, your hands working to undress him. Clothes and shoes are cast aside between open-mouthed kisses, torn off half-buttoned and ripped away from soles. You breathe him in, gasping into his mouth. Translucent strings of saliva connect your mouths when you part, soon broken when you lean in for a chaste peck.
“You’re okay,” he says, the words practically bleeding onto your own tongue with how close he is. “Still as pure as the day I first met you.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“The best thing.”
His third and fourth fingers prod at the depths of your pussy, pressing inwards. Shallow at first. He watches your face unblinkingly, burning every pleasured contortion into his brain, and slides his thumb along your clit. Your breathing staggers, coming in quick huffs, and you grab at the bedsheets to steady yourself. Rollo works you open on those fingers, curling and scissoring in equal measure. The slick squelches join in the salacious symphony you’re currently producing. Every sigh and groan come together in perfect harmony. You’re a heavenly harp, and he’s plucking your strings like an expert musician.
“Tonight is unforgivable,” he adds, and you blink through blissful tears to view him. “Folly is the worst distraction.”
“Then be stupid with me,” you joke, running your hands over his shoulders. He’s so cold. “Warm yourself with me.”
And he will because he’s always wanted to. He’s desired it. Craved it. Coveted it. Thought of nothing else for days and days, each delusion so cyclical it often felt tangible.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, sliding his other hand up your hip and towards your rib. He traces the path of where it lies beneath layers of flesh before pressing down to feel it. “So beautiful…”
Your hand glides into his, fingers twining like silken thread around a spool. A lopsided smile lifts your lips, and you preen under him. “Yeah? Am I really?”
“I wouldn’t lie about the obvious…” Your walls hug his fingers tighter then, and a shiver electrifies your nerves. He hums again, quite pleased. “Oh, did you like that?”
“I did. Very much.”
Lashes fluttering against your cheekbones, your head thrown back in ecstasy ever-mounting, you render him ensorcelled. Like a prized Renaissance nude, a goat laid to sacrifice in the crow’s nest, you are beatific. Divinely so.
“Allow me to reiterate then.” He hastens his pace, pumping his fingers relentlessly. You tamp down a shameless moan. “You’re exquisitely beddable. A work of art. Enchanting. Une belle femme.”
You’re nearing the edge—very gradually, but not quite—and so it’s devastating when he slips his fingers out, each one thoroughly coated in you. They shimmer in the dim light, reminding you of where they had previously been.
“Put it back in,” you beg with wide, glossy eyes. “C’mon… Please don’t stop now. Was so close. So close and—”
Your complaints are curbed when you follow his hand as it moves to wrap around his half-hard cock. He strokes himself thrice, using your slick as lube, until his cock is curving up against his stomach. You stare at him; he stares right back.
And then you realize he intends to go all the way.
“Wait, Rol…lo… S’not my safe day,” you say, shifting away. Whether impatiently or anxiously, he can’t tell, but he can certainly guess. Your world spins once, a dizzying blur, before it promptly clears. In the very center of your vision, as he’s always been, Rollo remains. “S’not safe…”
He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with levity. “I know.”
He’s kept track, dutiful like always.
You attempt to crawl out from under him, but he stops you. Your stomach churns.
“I’ll pull out in time,” he promises, rubbing soothing circles into your plush hips.
Even with the alcohol still buzzing through your system, you aren’t convinced. “N-No, really, we should stop here…”
“You’ll feel so good. Come now, aren’t we nearly there already?”
Rollo lifts your legs onto his shoulders. You squirm with more determination this time, but his fingers dig into your thighs. With a startled squeak, you sink into the mattress, cowed into submission.
“We… We can’t.”
“Why not?” The smooth, soft head of his cock prods curiously at your pussy.
You chew your lip, admitting in a meek tone, “I… I could get p-pregnant…”
“Pregnant,” he parrots, tasting the word as if it’s a delicacy he has yet to sample. His cock twitches. “Pregnant…”
“So… So that’s why…”
“Do you not want children?”
“I… Well… Now is kinda…”
He presses onwards, sinking in slowly. Your breath hitches; your heart stumbles. The intrusion is not entirely unwanted, for your slick, snug walls cling to his shape, and you almost give in to bodily inclination. But it doesn’t feel right. You’re scared. No matter how naturally your body reacts, you don’t want this.
“Rollo, wait—”
“It would be a wonderful thing—to see you rounded with my children.” Rollo props himself on either side of you, his body pinned to yours in sinful, sweaty connection. He exhales a deep breath, restraining himself as he pushes deeper. Patience is a virtue, after all. Your expression tightens with discomfort, and so he peppers your face with placatory kisses. “To see you grow in and—mmh—out of the most flattering maternity wear. To behold every change that blesses this beautiful body of yours… To see you swell with my love, filthy as it may be. Ah, but pregnancy is just as messy… Nevertheless, it shall be a special bond for us—a sacred vow, if you will. We are connected here—” he punctuates this point by slotting the rest of his length inside, and your legs involuntarily close around him to keep him there— “and soon here when life develops within.”
One hand splays across your stomach to pat it with fondness. You choke on your helpless whimper when he rocks his hips once, experimenting with the movement. It’s awkward, but it reminds you that he’s inside. So close to your womb that in just a few more thrusts he might—
“No… No, please… Rollo, you have to—oh—have to pull out. Please pull out. Don’t wanna get pregnant…”
“Oh, but you would be so beautiful.” He breathes you in, savoring sex and floral fragrance. “If I’m allowed one miracle—just one for all the anguish I’ve endured—let it be this.”
You know not of what anguish he speaks, for he’s never verbalized it, but even so it can’t possibly be so agonizing that it would warrant such invasion.
The vise-like hold your velvety walls have on his cock is deliciously addictive. He groans while he ruts into you, his eyelids fluttering. He could be animalistic and cruel in his movements—ravish you as if the world is faced with annihilation and this is his final hour—but instead he settles for exploratory leisure. His hand fits into yours and he squeezes it gently. A feeble protest builds in your throat and so he swallows it with a hungry kiss, his mouth molding against yours.
Your nails dig into his shoulders when he draws back and slides in again, filling you deeper than before. You breathe between kisses, panting and licking into his mouth in even intervals. He does much the same, anchored to you in a way that is both temporary and yet so permanent.
The world narrows down to this single sliver of space, enclosed in a canopy. And in it, laid bare and fertile, the goat is sacrificed to the crow. Death cannot reach either one here. There is only the promise of new life, thrust upon the goat all at once.
You don’t have the willpower to object, for you’ve already found yourself entrapped, so instead you cry. Tears track down your cheeks; your mascara runs with it. Ruined. So, too, is your pitch-black lipstick, smeared along the edges of your lips and printed onto Rollo’s porcelain skin.
Rollo’s hips stutter to a halt and he holds you against him when he spills thick and hot inside. Nothing is wasted; it’s all emptied deep within. If you’re lucky, it won’t take. But if some mischievous fertility goddess has cursed you, you’ll wake nauseous in the coming weeks.
If you have anything worth praying for, it’s the former.
The both of you are panting in the aftermath, but only one is coming down from his glorious high. You remain unsatisfied, your peak not yet breached. Rollo rolls his hips once more for good measure before easing out. You crumple into the wrinkled sheets, frigid and still as a statue. Carved empty and hollow, yet stuffed with sin.
The crow has come. Though this time the gift of tragedy is something between boon and curse.
— — —
The curtains are drawn to let in sunlight. It filters in through frosted glass, each pane stamped with snow, and it blinds you the moment you try to open your eyes. You twist and turn in bed, feeling heavy with hangover. A splitting ache cracks your head in half, and you groan loudly.
“Fuckin’ hell,” you hiss, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “This sucks…”
You force yourself to wake after two more minutes of rolling around. Groaning once more, you sit up in bed. The canopy has been tied back in place, and when you glance sidelong at Rollo’s desk you notice something. A glass of water and a plate are waiting for you, seeming more enticing by the second. You throw the covers off, realize you’re nude seconds later, and promptly snatch them back. They’re wrapped around you like a comforting cloak. You stagger out of bed to check the contents. Two croissants, a single orange, a dollop of strawberry marmalade, and two tablets are arranged on the plate.
Hangover medicine, you realize, lifting one up to scrutinize it.
You peer around the room. It’s empty. And then you see the clock. It’s a little past noon.
“Oh,” you mumble, lowering into the chair. You clutch the blanket closer. “Rollo must be in class.”
Amidst the piercing migraine, which you quickly resolve by throwing your head back to swallow both tablets in a single gulp of water, two things occur to you. You’re in Rollo’s room. Naked. In Rollo’s room. Surely you must have spent the night after you returned from the party. Why are you naked?
But more importantly…
“Shit! My exam!” The excitement doesn’t help your current state, and you slouch in your seat, even more exhausted than before. “I completely missed it… Rollo’s gonna kill me.”
You scrub the sleep from your eyes and reach for a croissant, content with giving up. You don’t want to endure the walk of shame from Rollo’s room to yours. If anyone were to catch you, they’d certainly be left wondering.
As you nibble on the croissant, admiring the way Rollo’s arranged the contents of his room, you spot the edge of something beneath the plate. Perplexed, you push it aside to reveal a note. Penned in Rollo’s effortlessly pretty script, it reads:
I’ll forgive your transgression just this once if you’ll forgive mine. For now, get some rest. I’ve left breakfast here. Stay for however long you’d like.
You scowl at his attempt of ‘breakfast,’ and your stomach rumbles in dissatisfaction.
“Right?” you say to your stomach, clicking your tongue. “If anything, this is hardly a snack.”
But you’re grateful for his efforts. He cares. He always has. From the very first day you found yourself in this world, he cared.
While you peel the orange, pondering foggy recollections of last night, you begin to realize just how sticky you feel. As if someone’s slobbered all over you and left it to dry. The feeling persists between your thighs.
You pause momentarily, overcome with an uncanny sense of panic as you piece the puzzle together. The still-forming picture does not look good.
“Shit…” you whisper, haunted with a fragmented timeline. “What the hell did we do last night?”
You know. The deep, dark part of your brain knows, but you don’t want to confront it. Because Rollo wouldn’t, right? He couldn’t. He’s always done what’s best for you, so he wouldn’t.
Right?
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heartfullofleeches · 9 months ago
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[+18]
V and fuckboy playboy/wingman male Darling-
Hear me out-
Darling is the son of some other loaded family that has close ties with V's. The two cross paths at a gathering and their parents urge them to make friends. Darling plays video games. V plays video games. They exchange numbers with some persuasion from their folks and set up a time to play something together although begrudgingly on V's end. V ends up having a better time than he expected, but right before he really starts to enjoy his time with Darling - he tells V he has to head out.
"Nice meeting you, dude. We gotta do this again. I got a girl coming over and I gotta bounce."
And just like that V's hopes are crushed. He's still learning about his attraction towards guys, but - Darling was sorta cute....
"oh....so you have a girlfriend."
Darling laughs.
"Nah, man. Haven't found the right girl...or guy to tie me down yet, plus I'm just enjoying the single life for now.... I can send pics after we're done if you want. She's totally chill and likes when I show her off."
Pictures?.... V agrees - thinking not much of it. He goes back to playing and eventually it slips from his mind. Hours later he receives photos of what looks to be a topless girl in a dimly lit room. She smiles big at the camera - eyes and upper face blocked from sight by the shaft of the bastard with her cheek pressed to his inner thigh. He still had on the same pair of sweats V had seen him in earlier that day. He only met this guy not even twenty-four hours ago and now he's seen his dick. Even worse - there's a pretty girl with her lipstick and spit all over it in the same picture. V's pissed - yet the image magically appears in one of his porn holders later on."
"what the hell...."
"My bad! I thought you might like it. You don't seem like a guy who gets a lot of action... If you ever want to meet someone, just give me a call. I know a lot of people who'd be interested in a rich brat like you."
This guy.... he acts like he's any different. V thinks Darling is a freak to put things lightly, but its not like he has other people to hang out with. As the two hang out V sees that Darling isn't as bad as he first seemed. He's still a horny, inconsiderate prick most days - but he's still the best thing V has to a friend and cares for V in his own way..... Still sends V dick pics he sweats were for someone els.
Darling is genuinely surprised that V has never been with someone. Sure, he doesn't seem like he gets that much attention, but he was sure V had at least kissed someone once. The topic comes up when Darling tries for the hundredth time to hook with up with one of his flings. He's always sending V evidence of the nights he spent with strangers. Oddly enough - V only ever complains about the videos and photos when they don't have darling in them as well.
"Damn.... I know you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're cute I thought somebody would've looked past that.....
V hates with Darling says shit like that. He's not used to people flirting with him and... and it gives him false hope. "Shut up....
"So, think she's cute? I can give her your number~"
"I don't want it."
This sucks.... By now, V's fully aware of his crush on Darling - and he fucking hates the bastard for what he's doing to him. If Darling is so concerned about him seeing people why doesn't he just take V out instead. He jerks off to everything Darling sends him wondering when he'll get his turn. V has some solace in the fact Darling rare sees any of his partners twice. V has been with him and always will be with him longer than any of them have. He just has to be patient.....and ruin any chances Darling has of being with anyone else.
V nearly jumps out of his skin reading one of Darling's numerous drunken texts.
"Hey, man. Totally speaking out my ass here, but would you ever be down to have a threesome sometime ;)"
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darlingsblackbook · 1 month ago
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Distant Echeos 3
Gojo Satoru x Reader
Arranged Marriage AU
Summary : The time of an old pact, promising your hand to the heir of the Gojo clan, has come. It is now your wedding, how will the two of you continue from here?
Wordcount : 1,3K
Warnings : Hurt, Angst, Angst and Angst. Sad y/n :'(
AN : This is part Three!
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It had been almost a month since Gojo and I were married, but it felt as though the time had stretched into an eternity. The penthouse, which was supposed to be a shared home, now felt more like a gilded cage—too large, too empty, too quiet.
I had hoped, in the beginning, that things would get better. That with time, maybe Gojo would warm up to me, or at least acknowledge the effort I was putting into trying to make this situation work.
But as the days passed, my hope dwindled. Every time he came home—if you could even call it that—it was like watching a shadow pass through. He was there one moment, gone the next, always with the same distant expression, the same dismissive tone.
I barely existed in his world. And slowly, I felt myself fading because of it.
I had stopped preparing his lunches. He never ate them anyway, and the sight of another untouched bento sitting on the counter had become too painful to bear.
It wasn’t that I had expected him to suddenly fall in love with me, but I had at least thought he might care a little. A small acknowledgment, a quiet thank you that meant he saw me, even if only as his wife in name. But no.
He left in the morning, often before I woke up, and returned only when he needed something. Clothes, documents, a momentary break before heading back to his real life.
Not once did he ask how I was doing. Not once did he ask if I needed anything.
So, I stopped trying to reach out. It was easier that way. Less painful.
Instead, I retreated further into myself, finding solace in the small routines that gave my day structure. I kept the penthouse clean—spotless, even—though I knew he didn’t notice.
I went grocery shopping, even though half the food I bought went uneaten. I made simple meals for myself, always enough for two, but always alone at the table.
The silence became my companion, and I grew more comfortable with it. At least the silence didn’t hurt. At least the silence didn’t look right through me.
°•♡•°
One evening, about a week after I’d stopped making him lunches, I heard the door open. It was late—later than usual for him to stop by—but I didn’t bother looking up from where I sat, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me.
I had a book open in my lap, though I hadn’t really been reading. The words blurred together in front of me, my mind too numb to concentrate.
Gojo’s presence filled the room like it always did—vast, overwhelming, but somehow distant, as though he wasn’t really there at all.
I heard him move around, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the bedroom. I waited, hoping he might say something, anything, but the only sound was the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the closet door.
And then, without a word, he was gone again.
I didn’t move from my spot, but the familiar ache in my chest grew a little stronger, a little heavier.
What had I expected? For him to sit down and ask how my day had been? For him to actually notice me sitting there, waiting for some sign that I wasn’t invisible?
No. I had learned better by now. Hoping only led to disappointment.
With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the book, forcing myself to focus on the words. They were dry, dull—nothing like the romance stories I had once enjoyed.
I used to dream of love, of passion, of a relationship filled with warmth and laughter. But now, even the idea of such things felt foreign. Unreal.
Love wasn’t for people like me. People who were married off for political reasons, who existed as pawns in a game they never asked to play.
I had told myself, over and over again, that I just needed to give it time. That things would get better. But now, after weeks of silence, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold onto that belief.
°•♡•°
The next day, Gojo didn’t come home at all.
I didn’t even realize until I woke up the following morning to an empty, undisturbed house. His clothes were still neatly folded in the closet, his things untouched. I wondered, for a brief moment, if something had happened—if he was hurt or in trouble. But then I remembered who I was married to. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer in the world. Nothing could touch him.
Nothing except, apparently, the thought of spending time here.
With me.
I went through the motions of the day mechanically—making breakfast, cleaning up, folding laundry—knowing none of it really mattered. I had once thought that keeping the house in order would make me feel like I had some kind of control, but now, even that felt hollow.
By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted, though not from any physical effort. It was the kind of tired that seeped into your bones, weighing down every step, every breath. I curled up on the couch again, the same book in my lap, though this time I didn’t even pretend to read.
The emptiness felt bigger tonight. Heavier. Like a tangible thing pressing down on me, reminding me just how alone I was.
I wondered if Gojo felt the same way. He always seemed so self-assured, so confident, but there had to be something under the surface, didn’t there? He couldn’t possibly be this detached all the time. Maybe he hated this marriage as much as I did. Maybe he was just avoiding me because he didn’t know what to say.
I tried to imagine what I would say to him if I had the courage. If I could speak my mind without fear of rejection or indifference.
“Do you hate me?” I whispered into the empty room, the words soft, barely audible even to myself.
But the silence, as always, gave no answer.
°•♡•°
A few more days passed, and Gojo’s absence became a constant. He came by once or twice, late at night, to grab things or change clothes, but he never stayed longer than a few minutes. He never asked about the house or how I was doing. He never asked if I was okay.
I was beginning to wonder if I had been foolish to think that things would ever change.
That night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. I felt small, insignificant, like a ghost haunting a place that wasn’t mine.
I had tried to make this house a home. I had tried to make myself a part of this new life. But every effort, every gesture, had been met with silence, with indifference. And now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left to give.
It wasn’t just the loneliness that hurt. It was the sense of failure. The feeling that no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough.
Not for Gojo.
Not for this marriage.
Not for the life I had been thrust into.
And so, little by little, I retreated further into myself. I stopped trying to reach out, stopped hoping for things to change. I spoke less, stayed in my room more, and let the days blend together in a fog of quiet isolation.
Maybe Gojo was waiting for me to give up. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To be left alone, free from the burden of a wife he never asked for.
Or maybe I was just fooling myself.
Either way, I was sinking deeper into a place I didn’t know how to climb out of. And the worst part was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to anymore.
The world was on fire but no one can save me but you~ la la
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