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elryuse · 2 hours ago

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ANTHEM pt.4

MULTIPLE FEMALE IDOL X MALE READER

TAGS : Harem, Seduction, Multiple Female Love Interest, Kiss,

WORDS : 3,940 Words

For The Other Part Of My ANTHEM Series, Please Kindly Check Over Here.

Y/n stood frozen in the shower, the water still cascading down his back as he tried to process what had just happened. Yujin’s sudden appearance and her equally quick exit left him breathless, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. He leaned against the tiled wall, his mind racing.

She couldn’t have seen too much, right? he thought, though the way she had stared at him suggested otherwise. The memory of her wide eyes, filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity, lingered in his mind. He shook his head, trying to shake off the image, but it clung to him like a second skin.

He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly drying himself before wrapping a towel around his waist. As he ran a hand through his wet hair, he glanced at the closed bathroom door, half-expecting Yujin to burst back in. But the room was silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner.

Yujin wouldn’t come back, he assured himself. She was polite, considerate—she wouldn’t intrude further. Except… the look on her face hadn’t been entirely innocent. There had been something else there, something he couldn’t quite place.

He walked out of the bathroom, still toweling off his hair, when the sound of the door creaking open made him freeze. His eyes shot up, and there she was—Yujin. But this time, she wasn’t dressed. In fact, she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

Y/n’s jaw dropped, his brain struggling to process what he was seeing. Yujin stood in the doorway, her petite frame illuminated by the soft light filtering through the curtains. Her skin glowed, smooth and unblemished, her curves delicate yet enticing. Her dark hair framed her face, which wore an expression of quiet determination.

“Y-Yujin,” Y/n stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He immediately raised his hands to cover his eyes, turning his head away. “What are you doing?!”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a step closer, the sound of her bare feet padding softly against the floor. Y/n could feel the heat radiating from her body, even from where he stood. His heart pounded harder, the blood rushing to his ears.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You need to see.”

“N-no, I don’t!” he protested, his voice cracking slightly. His hands remained firmly over his eyes, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to look. “This isn’t—you shouldn’t be here like this!”

“Why not?” she asked simply, another step bringing her closer. “You saw me earlier. Isn’t it only fair?”

“That was an accident!” he exclaimed, his cheeks burning. “This is… this is different!”

She was close enough now that he could feel her presence, her warmth pressing against him. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his arm. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, his muscles tensing under her soft caress.

“Let me show you,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “Just… look at me.”

Her fingers trailed down his arm, her touch feather-light but insistent. Gradually, she pried his hands away from his face, her strength surprising him despite her slender frame. His resistance faltered, and before he knew it, his arms were at his sides, his eyes reluctantly meeting hers.

The sight hit him like a tidal wave. Yujin stood before him, completely bare, her body as perfect as he had imagined—no, more so. Her small, perky breasts rose and fell with each breath, her nipples peaked from the cool air or perhaps something else entirely. Her waist dipped invitingly, leading to hips that swayed ever so slightly as she shifted her weight. And lower still…

Y/n swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His gaze lingered, unable to pull away, and he felt a familiar heat building inside him. His towel did little to hide his growing arousal, and he clasped his hands together in front of him, desperate to maintain some semblance of control.

Yujin noticed, of course. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, her eyes darting downward briefly before returning to his face. “See?” she said softly, tilting her head slightly. “It’s not so bad, is it?”

“Yujin…” he started, his voice strained. “This is… this is crazy. We can’t—”

“Why not?” she interrupted, stepping closer still until they were almost touching. Her hands found their way to his chest, her palms flat against his damp skin. “We’re both adults. We both want this.”

“Do we?” he asked, though the question felt hollow even as it left his lips. The truth was, he did want her. Badly. Every inch of her called to him, her proximity making it impossible to think clearly.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a kiss so soft it was almost teasing. Y/n’s breath hitched, his resolve crumbling faster than he could rebuild it. His hands moved without his permission, settling on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together.

The kiss deepened, her tongue slipping past his lips as her hands slid up to his neck, fingers tangling in his damp hair. Y/n groaned into her mouth, his grip on her tightening as the world around them faded into nothingness. All that mattered was her—her taste, her scent, the way her body molded perfectly against his.

Breaking the kiss, Yujin pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. Her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, but her gaze was steady. “Tell me you don’t want this,” she challenged, her voice trembling with emotion.

Y/n opened his mouth to protest, to reason with her, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, he knew she was right. He wanted her. Needed her. And judging by the way she was looking at him, she needed him too.

His hands moved again, this time with purpose, skimming up her sides until they cupped her breasts. She gasped, her head tilting back as he thumbed over her nipples, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Encouraged, he lowered his head, capturing one between his lips, teasing it with his tongue.

“Y/n…” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support. Her legs trembled, and she tightened her grip on him, her nails digging into his skin just enough to make him groan.

He switched to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, his free hand drifting lower, tracing the curve of her hip before dipping between her thighs. She was already wet, her body betraying the depth of her desire, and the knowledge sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his core.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the word. Her hips bucked slightly, seeking more contact, and Y/n obliged, sliding a finger through her slick folds before pressing it inside her.

She cried out, her body arching into his touch as he began to move, his finger curling just right to draw another gasp from her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulders tighter, her nails leaving faint marks as she struggled to hold on.

“More,” she begged, her voice raw with need. “I need more.”

Y/n didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his finger, earning a whimper of protest from her, only to replace it with something far more substantial. Gripping her hips, he lifted her slightly, positioning her over him before slowly lowering her down.

The sensation of her tight warmth enveloping him was overwhelming, and Y/n had to fight to keep his composure as she sank onto him, inch by agonizing inch. Yujin’s head fell back, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as she adjusted to him, her inner walls clenching around him in a way that threatened to undo him completely.

When she finally bottomed out, they both stilled, savoring the moment, the connection. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, Yujin began to move, setting a pace that was torturously slow yet impossibly perfect.

“Yujin…” Y/n groaned, his hands gripping her hips tighter as he guided her movements, helping her find the rhythm that drove them both wild. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, the room filled with the sounds of their shared pleasure—soft gasps, broken moans, the slick slide of skin against skin.

But just as Yujin’s movements grew more frantic, just as Y/n felt himself teetering on the brink, a sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Y/n? Are you in there?” came a familiar voice—Winter’s, laced with amusement.

Yujin froze, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at Y/n, who looked equally horrified.

“Shit,” he muttered, his mind racing. “What do we—?”

Before he could finish, Winter’s voice rang out again, louder this time. “I know you’re in there, Y/n. Open up. Unless… you’re busy".

Winter’s footsteps lingered outside the bathroom door for a moment longer, her voice teasing and light. “Well, if you’re busy, I won’t bother you. Just… don’t take too long.” Her laughter echoed as she walked away, the sound fading into the distance.

Y/n let out a shaky breath, his arm still pressed against Yujin’s mouth as they both stood frozen in place. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure it would give them away. When Winter’s steps finally disappeared, he slowly released Yujin, his hand trembling as he dropped it to his side.

“Are you—” he started, but before he could finish, Yujin surged forward, her lips crashing into his with an intensity that left him momentarily stunned. Her hands gripped the sides of his face, pulling him closer as if she couldn’t get enough. He stumbled backward, his back hitting the cold tile wall of the bathroom, but she didn’t stop. Her body pressed flush against his, the heat between them igniting something raw and electric.

Yujin—the thought flickered through his mind like a spark. She wasn’t usually this bold, this daring. But here she was, kissing him as though she’d been waiting for this moment forever. Her lips were soft yet demanding, and when her tongue brushed against his, he groaned low in his throat, his hands instinctively moving to steady her hips.

She broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, her voice shaky but insistent, “I-I’ve wanted this for so long,” before diving back in, her fingers tangling in his damp hair. Y/n’s head spun, his thoughts a chaotic mess as he tried to keep up with her frantic pace. One of his hands slid up her back, tracing the curve of her spine, while the other cupped her cheek, trying to slow her down, to savor the moment.

But Yujin wasn’t having it. She pulled back slightly, her chest heaving as she looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. Before he could respond, she leaned in again, her lips trailing hot kisses along his jaw and down his neck, each touch sending shivers through his body.

Y/n gasped, his head tipping back against the wall as her teeth grazed his skin. “Yujin, we should—we can’t—” he stammered, but the protest died on his lips as she bit down lightly on his collarbone, her hands sliding under his shirt. Her touch was everywhere all at once, overwhelming and intoxicating.

“Why not?” she murmured against his skin, her breath warm and unsteady. “Winter already thinks you’re busy. And no one else is coming.” Her words sent a thrill through him, even as a small part of his brain screamed that this was dangerous. But when her fingers traced the waistband of his pants, all rational thought fled.

His hands moved on their own, gripping her waist tightly as he lifted her off the ground. She let out a soft yelp of surprise, followed by a breathless laugh, her legs wrapping around his hips instinctively. Y/n turned, pinning her against the wall, his lips finding hers again in a searing kiss. The taste of her, the feel of her, was driving him wild.

Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head with surprising speed, her nails skimming lightly over his chest as she tossed it aside. Then her fingers were undoing the button of his pants, her movements hurried but deliberate. Y/n’s breath hitched, his mind clouded with need as he helped her push them down, kicked them off clumsily without breaking contact.

Yujin’s own clothes came next, her dress slipping from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her exposed and vulnerable in the dim bathroom light. Y/n’s gaze raked over her, his admiration evident as he took in every curve, every inch of her. She blushed under his scrutiny, but there was no hesitation in her actions as she reached for him again, pulling him close.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. “I need you.”

That single word shattered whatever restraint he had left. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body as he lowered her to the floor, his weight pressing her into the cool tiles. Their movements were frantic, desperate, as if they were both afraid the moment would slip away if they weren’t careful.

When he finally entered her, they both let out a collective gasp, the tension snapping like a taut wire. Yujin clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he moved, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge. Her moans were muffled against his shoulder, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

It was wild, unrestrained, and utterly intoxicating. Y/n buried his face in her neck, his movements growing more urgent as he felt her tighten around him, her pleasure cresting in waves. “Yujin,” he breathed, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re—god, you’re amazing.”

Her response was a wordless cry, her body arching against his as she reached her peak, her grip on him tightening as if she never wanted to let go. Y/n followed soon after, his release coursing through him like a tidal wave, leaving him breathless and spent.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, tangled together on the bathroom floor, their hearts pounding in unison as they caught their breath. Yujin’s fingers traced lazy patterns on his back, her face buried in the crook of his neck. It was quiet, peaceful, until reality began to creep back in.

“What are we doing?” Y/n asked softly, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension.

Yujin lifted her head to look at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from their kisses. She smiled, a little shyly now, her earlier boldness melting into something softer. “Something we probably shouldn’t,” she admitted, her tone light but her eyes serious. “But… I don’t regret it.”

He stared at her, torn between the warmth of her words and the nagging guilt clawing at the edges of his mind. This is complicated, he thought. Everything about this is so damn complicated.

Before he could say anything else, a loud knock sounded on the bathroom door, startling them both. “Hello? Are you two done in there?” came Karina’s amused voice, followed by a playful chuckle. “Because I kind of need to use the bathroom.”

Yujin’s eyes widened in panic, and Y/n froze, his mind racing. What the hell were they supposed to do now.

Y/n’s heart pounded as Karina’s voice lingered on the other side of the door. Yujin pressed a finger to her lips, eyes wide with panic, her breath shallow and quick. He nodded, trying to steady himself, but the heat radiating from her body made it impossible to think clearly. They were trapped—in every sense of the word.

“Uh… just a minute!” Yujin called out, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to sound casual. She glanced at Y/n, her expression a mix of fear and amusement. “What do we do?” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. “We can’t stay in here forever,” he murmured back, his voice barely audible. He glanced around the small bathroom for any possible escape route, but there was none. The only way out was through the door—and Karina.

Karina knocked again, this time more insistently. “Come on, you two! What’s taking so long? Did you fall in or something?”

Yujin stifled a nervous laugh, pressing her hand over her mouth to keep quiet. Y/n felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. This is bad, he thought. Really, really bad.

With no other options, Y/n took a deep breath and grabbed a towel, wrapping it hastily around his waist. Yujin followed suit, grabbing another towel and draping it over her shoulders, though it did little to hide the fact that they had clearly been up to something.

“Alright, coming out!” Y/n called, trying to inject some cheerfulness into his tone. He reached for the door handle, hesitated for a moment, then twisted it open.

Karina stood there, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as she took in the sight of them. Her gaze flicked between Y/n and Yujin, suspicion written all over her face. “Well, well,” she said slowly, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Am I interrupting something?”

“N-no!” Yujin stammered, her cheeks turning scarlet. “We were just… uh…”

“Showering,” Y/n finished for her, though the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. He adjusted the towel nervously, avoiding Karina’s penetrating stare.

Karina tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Together?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Yujin opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Y/n cleared his throat, trying to salvage the situation. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said quickly, though the way Karina’s eyes sparkled told him she wasn’t buying it.

“Hmm,” Karina hummed, stepping aside to let them pass. “Well, whatever you two were doing in there, make sure it doesn’t interfere with practice later.” She winked, and Y/n felt his face burn.

Yujin hurried past her, muttering something about needing to get dressed, and disappeared down the hallway. Y/n hesitated, glancing at Karina, whose expression had softened slightly.

“You know,” Karina said, her voice quieter now, less teasing, “you don’t have to act like everything’s fine with me. I can see how much pressure you’re under.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

Karina sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Being the leader… it’s exhausting. I’m always trying to keep everything together, to make sure everyone’s happy, but…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Sometimes I feel like I’m failing them.”

Y/n frowned, stepping closer to her. “Karina, you’re not failing anyone. You’ve done so much for this group—for me. Without you, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said sincerely. “I respect you so much. Not just as our leader, but as a person. You’re strong, kind, and… I care about you. A lot.”

Karina’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she just stared at him, as if trying to process his words. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Y/n froze for a second, surprised by the sudden contact, before hesitantly returning the hug.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “That means more to me than you know.”

They stood like that for a while, the tension from earlier melting away as they simply held each other. Karina’s warmth seeped into him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. But eventually, she pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” she said, her tone serious now. “And I need you to listen carefully.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. “What is it?”

Karina took a deep breath, her fingers tightening slightly on his shoulders. “I’m not the only one who cares about you, Y/n. The others… they feel the same way. Winter, Wonyoung, Yujin—they all look at you differently. And I can’t stand the thought of you being torn apart because of us.”

Y/n blinked, stunned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” Karina’s voice wavered, but she pushed on, her gaze never leaving his. “I love you. But I know I’m not the only one. So, please… help them too. Be there for them, just like you’ve been there for me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and charged with emotion. Y/n didn’t know how to respond. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts, but one thing was clear: Karina cared deeply—not just for him, but for all of them.

Before he could say anything, Karina leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Take care of them,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned and speechless.

Y/n watched her go, his heart pounding in his chest. Help them? he thought. How am I supposed to do that? He ran a hand through his hair, overwhelmed by the weight of her request.

As if on cue, Yujin reappeared at the end of the hallway, now fully dressed and looking significantly calmer. She smiled when she saw him, though there was a hint of shyness in her expression. “Everything okay?” she asked softly.

Y/n managed a small smile. “Yeah. Just… talked to Karina.”

Yujin nodded, stepping closer to him. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Y/n agreed, his voice tinged with admiration. He glanced at Yujin, noting the way her eyes softened as she looked at him. Is this what Karina meant?

Yujin reached out, gently taking his hand. “Hey,” she said, her voice low and inviting. “Why don’t we… finish what we started earlier?”

Y/n’s breath caught at her suggestion, his pulse quickening. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, her smile growing more confident. “More than sure.”

Without another word, she led him back toward the bathroom, her grip firm and determined. As soon as the door closed behind them, Yujin turned to him, her eyes dark with desire. She stepped closer, her fingers tracing the edge of his towel, sending shivers down his spine.

“Let’s make this quick,” she whispered, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Before someone else interrupts us again.”

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle, though his nerves were already on edge. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Only for you,” she replied, her voice dripping with promise. Then, without waiting for a response, she kissed him—slowly at first, testing the waters, but soon deepening the kiss until they were both lost in the sensation.

The towels fell to the floor, forgotten, as their bodies pressed together, heat radiating between them. Yujin’s hands roamed over his chest, her touch igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume them both. Y/n groaned into the kiss, his own hands exploring her curves, memorizing every inch of her.

The shower turned on, steam filling the room as they stepped inside, the water cascading over them. Yujin’s laughter echoed off the tiles, light and carefree, as she leaned back, letting the water soak her hair. Her eyes met his, sparkling with mischief and something deeper—something that mirrored the ache in his own chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Y/n murmured, his voice hoarse with desire.

Yujin’s smile widened, and she reached for him, pulling him closer. “So are you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his once more.

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thewizardingpost · 2 days ago

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Bound by Fate

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary ⌇ you’ve always felt a strange pull toward James, Sirius, and Remus, but since you’ve come of age, the bond between you and your three closest friends deepens, and you begin to understand that they are your destined partners, your mates

warnings ⌇word count 4.2k, ABO AU, eventual smut (penetration & oral), friends to lovers/mates, omega!reader, alpha!james/sirius/remus, hurt/comfort, angst w/ happy ending

Mates were a concept you’d only heard about in tales—an undeniable bond that grew between two souls, a connection so deep and instinctual it could never be ignored, no matter how hard you tried. It wasn’t just about attraction or desire; it was about belonging, about finding the person—or persons—that you were meant to be with. The kind of bond that shaped your very existence, binding you together in ways words couldn’t explain—like a key to a lock, a flower to rain, or the stars to the night sky. It was a force that simply was, and nothing could break it.

You’d always imagined the day your mate was revealed would be one of pure joy, a fairy tale come to life. The thought of having someone destined for you filled you with a thrilling, eager anticipation. But all that fervor, all that restless longing to discover who your mate—or mates—might be, came to a crashing halt. It felt as if your heart, once brimming with hope, had splintered into a thousand shards.

The realization of who your mates happened overtime, not some sudden onslaught of emotions like you had expected. It came through scent, intense emotional responses, and heightened physical sensitivity. It was late in the afternoon, the four of you hanging around in the library, when the “change” started.

There’s a section in the library that the four of you consider your hidden nook. It’s not genuinely hidden, just tucked away in the far corner, behind a row of dusty old books and faded tapestries. Few people venture that deep into the library, and even fewer linger long enough to notice the secluded alcove. But to you, it’s the perfect little refuge—a space that feels entirely your own, like a secret world where time slows down.

The four of you are seated on the worn rug, scattered across the floor in comfortable silence. James sits with his legs crossed, leaning against a stack of heavy textbooks, his eyes focused on the pages of a book he’s half-reading, half-absentmindedly flipping through. Sirius is sprawled across from him, one arm resting on his knee, staring at the crackling flame of a nearby candle, his mind seemingly elsewhere. Remus, ever the quiet one, is at the edge of the group, his book in hand, but his attention more often than not drawn to the stillness of the room, as though taking in the peacefulness of the space.

The soft rustle of turning pages is the only sound that fills the air, a steady rhythm that matches the calm energy of the nook. It’s not the usual kind of gathering—no loud conversations or jokes, just the simple presence of each other in a shared, unspoken understanding.

Then, without warning, Remus’s shoulder brushes against yours. It’s nothing—just the briefest contact, the kind of thing you wouldn’t normally notice, except... something about it makes your skin prickle. A spark of warmth, a flicker of something you can’t quite place. You freeze for a split second, feeling the pulse of it surge through you, and then just as quickly, you shrug it off. It must’ve been the wind, or the way you shifted—anything but what it really was. You try to ignore the slight tremor still lingering in your chest, pretending it never happened. The air in the nook feels the same as it always does. Quiet. Safe.

Yet, there’s no denying that something’s begun to stir beneath the surface, even if you’re not ready to face it yet.

Then one by one, like dominoes, it all began to spiral out of control. At first, it was just a subtle thing—Remus’s hand grazing yours while passing you a book, his touch sending a wave of electricity up your arm, leaving your skin buzzing. Then, it was Sirius leaning a little too close as he joked about something, his scent wrapping around you, stronger than usual, more intoxicating—like fresh earth after rain, something comforting and wild all at once. And James, always nearby, his proximity suddenly making your pulse race, the warmth of his presence a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you in no matter how hard you tried to fight it. Each moment felt like a spark, a jolt, until it was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just their touches or the way their scents seemed to fill the air—it was the way everything about them felt more intense, more overwhelming. Their voices had a deeper resonance in your chest, their laughter echoing in your bones like an unspoken invitation. At first, you tried to pretend it was nothing, just your imagination, but soon, it became impossible to deny. The way your body reacted to them—too sensitized, too attuned—felt like the inevitable shift of something you could no longer outrun.

And then, in the middle of Potions class, it happened.

One of the other students—a nameless boy from Slytherin, someone you barely thought about—brushed past you. He reached across the table for an ingredient, his arm brushing against yours in a way that should’ve felt completely normal. A simple touch. But as his skin made contact with yours, nothing happened. No spark. No warmth. No shiver running up your spine like you’d come to expect. Just, nothing.

You blinked, confused at first. Normally, physical contact wasn’t something you’d really notice, not the way some others seemed to. But this time, you couldn’t shake the contrast. His touch felt so bland—empty even. You felt the coldness of it, a distance that was somehow more obvious than if he hadn’t touched you at all. It left you with a strange, hollow feeling.

Your breath caught as the realization hit you like a bolt of lightning: The Marauders. Every time their hands brushed yours, or their scent filled the air around you, it was different—alive, almost electric. They didn’t just touch you, they reached you. They made you feel things you hadn’t known you could feel. Now, at this moment, it clicked.

This wasn’t just some passing attraction, some infatuation or idle crush. It was something deeper, something undeniable. They weren’t just your friends—they were your mates. And the stark difference between their touch and this boy’s was all the proof you needed.

Your heart raced. The truth, like a wave crashing over you, was undeniable now. There was no escaping it. You didn’t just feel something for them. You felt everything.

What should’ve been an exciting day—the day you discovered who your mate was—only left you with a gnawing anxiety deep in your chest. These were your best friends, the three people you trusted most. The thought of a relationship with them was overwhelming, and the idea of all three? It made your stomach churn. Could this even work? How would things change between you? Would they accept you as more than just a friend? It felt impossible. The four of you were connected, destined even, but they already had each other. What could you possibly add to this bond? Was this “fate” really a thing, or just some cruel twist of circumstance?

You pulled away from them out of fear of them realizing they’ll notice the strange connection between the four of you. It was easy to avoid them knowing their schedules and habits. If they were in Hogwarts, you went to Hogsmede. If they were in a class with you, you called out sick. If they started down the hallway you were in, you’d turn on your heel and speed-walk in the opposite way. Despite the tug towards them and how much you missed them, you decided it was better to run away and deal with the pain in your heart.

It was impossible to keep running from them. They’d given you space, respecting your need to figure things out, but even they knew there was only so much distance you could put between yourself and them. Fate, however, wasn’t so patient. The Marauder’s Map marked your every step, your exact location, as if it were pulling them toward you—like invisible strings already tying everything together. You couldn’t escape them, not anymore. You couldn't outrun it—not when fate was already pulling you together, no matter how much you tried to distance yourself.

You stepped out from the entrance to your dormitory, expecting the usual quiet corridor stretching before you. As soon as you crossed the threshold, you froze.

There they were, standing in your path, as though they had been waiting for you. James, Remus, and Sirius—all of them, their presence unmistakable. The air was thick with tension, and you could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging between you.

Sirius was the first to speak, his voice sharp, laced with frustration. “You gonna keep running away?” he demanded, arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes—hurt, confusion. “We’ve given you space, but this… this is getting ridiculous. You can’t keep doing this.”

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid the topic you weren’t ready to face. You didn’t want to, confront it, not yet—not ever. Your fear of their response to finding out was too strong. “I’m fine,” you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice came out a little too quickly, too quietly. "It’s nothing. I just needed some time."

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at your words. His jaw tightened, frustration turning into something sharper. “Nothing?” he repeated, his voice rising just enough to show the tension in his words. “You think we’re that stupid? You think we haven’t noticed? You can’t just pretend like nothing’s wrong. You’ve been shutting us out for days. We’re not blind.”

Before you could respond, Remus stepped forward, his brow furrowed. He shot Sirius a brief glare, his eyes softening when he turned back to you. “Sirius,” he said, voice calm but insistent, trying to de-escalate the situation. “We’re just worried. Please, talk to us.”

You could feel their eyes on you, waiting for you to speak. But your mind raced, and all you could do was let out an awkward laugh, forcing a tight smile. “It’s really nothing,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… need some space, okay? I’ll be fine. It’s fine.”

You tried to take a step back, hoping to end the conversation before it spiraled further. You wanted to escape, to not deal with it.

But James stopped you, his voice soft but laced with hurt. “Please, can we talk?” he asked, his eyes full of concern. “We can go somewhere private.”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the silent desperation behind it, and for a moment, it softened something inside you. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. You hadn’t meant to pull away from them like this. The sudden realization of how much his feelings mattered to you hit you all at once, and for a brief moment, you faltered.

But despite the softening in your heart, you still couldn’t bring yourself to stay. You didn’t have the words, didn’t know how to explain it.

Still, you nodded reluctantly, and with that, the four of you found yourselves back in your dorm room, the heavy silence following you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and the room seemed too small for what was about to unfold.

You sat on your bed, hugging your knees to your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. The tension in the room was thick, the unspoken words filling the space around you.

Sirius paced, his footsteps sharp and purposeful, the restless energy in his movements clear. He looked angry—his jaw was clenched, and his hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked back and forth. His expression was hard and unreadable.

Remus stood a little further away, his arms crossed, brow furrowed in concern, though a subtle frustration lingered in his posture as well. He kept looking at you, his gaze soft but questioning, like he was waiting for you to open up. You could see he was trying to read you, trying to understand why you were pulling away, but there was an edge to his calm that you hadn’t seen before.

James, standing a little off to the side, looked almost... small. He was still, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed on you. The hurt in his eyes was undeniable, and you could feel it pressing down on you. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t push, but the silence between you two seemed to speak volumes. His usually carefree nature was gone, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable.

You swallowed hard, unable to meet any of their eyes for long. The weight of everything was suffocating.

“I… I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur, but it felt like you were shouting. “I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this. Everything’s changing, and I—”

Sirius stopped pacing and turned sharply toward you, his frustration bubbling over. “What is changing?” His voice wasn’t angry, but there was a harshness to it. “You’ve been shutting us out, and we have no clue why. We’re here, but you just keep pushing us away like we’re the problem.”

Remus stepped forward, his voice gentler, but you could see the frustration lingering behind his calm demeanor. “Sirius, let her speak,” he said, a quiet plea for understanding. His gaze softened again, but there was a flicker of concern. “We’re just trying to understand. Whatever this is, whatever you’re feeling, we’re here for you.”

James didn’t say anything, but his arms dropped to his sides, his posture deflated as he moved a little closer, his eyes never leaving you. You could feel the weight of his concern and hurt all at once. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, as if everyone was waiting for you to finally break it.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, but it was hard to find the right words. The reality of what you had been avoiding, what you had been pushing down, seemed to finally come to the surface. "I just… I don’t know how to deal with this," you said, the last word slipping out before you could stop it. "It’s too much.”

What if I’ve already lost them? What if this is it?

It felt like sand slipping through your fingers, everything slipping away from you as you stood there, helpless. You were losing them, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Remus, his voice gentle yet firm, broke through your spiraling thoughts. “Please, dove,” he said, taking a small step closer. His tone held an urgency that made your heart flutter, though it only added to your feeling of being overwhelmed. “Talk to us.”

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to find the strength to speak. Your thoughts twisted and turned, and for a second, you almost couldn’t breathe. Tell them?

You exhaled shakily and gave a sigh, the words finally slipping out despite every part of you wanting to avoid it. “It started slow,” you whispered, voice trembling. “At first, I didn’t even realize. It wasn’t like anything changed overnight. But... when you touch me—when any of you touch me, I feel it. This electricity, this spark that... I don’t know how to explain it. The way your hand brushed against mine, it felt like something else. And then, when I smelled you… your scent—God, it pulled me in. It felt so right. So natural. And I started noticing it with all of you. It was like I couldn’t breathe right unless I was near you.”

You stopped, feeling the weight of the words you hadn’t let yourself say before. The words you didn’t think you could say. The words that terrified you.

“Then there was the day I realized,” you continued, barely above a whisper. “It was in Potions class. Another guy—he just bumped into me, reached over to grab an ingredient, and... I felt nothing. His touch was just... bland. Empty. No sparks. No pull. And it hit me all at once. It was like I couldn’t deny it anymore. I wasn’t imagining it. That’s when it all clicked, that I wasn’t just feeling this because I was going mad. I was feeling it because you—you three—are my mates.”

You blinked rapidly, and a few tears finally escaped, trailing down your cheeks. You looked away, embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop them. The dam had broken, and all you could do was let the words spill out, hoping that in some way, it would make sense to them.

“And I was scared,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Scared that if I let this happen, it would ruin everything. That I’d lose all of you, that I’d lose the friendship we had, that I’d mess it all up.”

James sighed softly, his voice full of compassion. “Oh, love...” he murmured, his tone so gentle it almost broke you further. You could feel the sincerity in his words, the warmth in his presence as he took a small step toward you. “We’re not going anywhere, alright? You’ve never had to be afraid of that.”

Remus nodded, his expression serious but soft. He stepped forward as well, his gaze unwavering. “You’re not alone in this. We’re never leaving you. We’ll face this together, all of us.” His words felt like an anchor, pulling you back from the whirlwind of your own doubts.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, but you didn’t feel like you were sinking anymore. Their presence, their words, wrapped around you like a blanket, calming the storm within you—at least a little.

But then, as if on cue, Sirius stepped forward. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze intense as he studied you. And then, without saying a word, he reached out. His hand brushed gently against your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped down your face.

You froze for a second. The touch, light but deliberate, shocked you. It was like electricity coursed through your veins, a rush of warmth and something deeper, something you hadn’t fully understood until now. Something that made your heart skip a beat.

His eyes searched yours, a question hanging in the air between you two. “Did that feel like what you explained?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with curiosity. You could feel your breath catch in your throat, but when you looked up at him, something in you shifted. Your chest tightened, but not from fear. The tension inside you seemed to ease, just for a moment.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, leaning into his touch as if you’d done it a thousand times before. It was crazy—how quickly you just... let go. How quickly you could calm down under his touch, like the world outside of the room didn’t matter. Like everything was right again, for just a breath.

His thumb gently brushed across your cheek, the contact grounding you. And somehow, in that one moment, the tears halted–your spiraling thoughts stilled. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his hand, the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself believe it could all work out. The bond—the mateship you’d been avoiding, the feelings you’d been too afraid to admit—it was no longer just a weight, an anxiety-filled weight.

Sirius brushes his fingers over your neck, lulling over to your exposed right shoulder. His touch brings heat, making your mind grow dizzy from it. Its insane how much a bond carries control over you, your emotions–it’s scary, terrifying how much power it holds.

He brings his hand upwards again, brushing your chin up. Sirius moved slowly, eyes trained on yours as he leans in–his breath falling onto your face. With a quick glance down to your lips, you knew his intentions. You nod, admitting your permission and his lips are on yours in a heartbeat. The brief brushes of your bodies touching brought upon was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on yours–hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut, your own hand reaching to tangle in his black hair and pull him closer.

He ends on top of you on your dorm bed, body slotted between your opened thighs. His kisses travel down your neck, his voice breathless, “are your roommates returning today, beautiful?”

You have to pull your mind out of the dizzy headspace it had begun to enter into to hum your confirmation. When he continued his kisses on your neck, you’ve been sent into orbit. Your head is tossed back against the bed sheets, whines escaping you. You’ve let go completely, no more holding back your feelings against the bond–you’re trying to bring it closer to you, needing it to encapsulate you. It’s almost like you're trying to make time for all the days you spent avoiding them.

When Sirius nips at your neck, at a spot where your pheromones are strongest–James and Remus step back in. You’re dazed, but you hear them talking in the back. You catch a few words–mating mark, where, need to choose different locations. It all spiraled from there. Clothes were almost ripped off, moans and the smell of sex filled the air.

Each one–James, Remus, and Sirius–got a chance at fucking you. You took each one’s knot, your cunt sore–so unbelievably sore, red, and puffy from the way they all were feral. It was everything you wished for, everything you were pleading them for. Your moans of, “o-oh… Please! James, shit–please.” Your whines for more, begging Sirius to go faster–harder. Your gasps and tugs on Remus’ hair when he ate you out, pleading that he never stopped. It was a frenzy, one that didn’t even begin to slow down until the sun had begun to rise again.

Remus, having taken you in doggy–his length pressing against your cervix–placed his mating mark on the back of your neck.

Sirius, doing it in missionary, placed his on the right side of your neck–by your ear.

Then James, letting you ride his length to your heart’s content, had his placed on the opposite side of Sirius’. The guys had placed theirs on each other, but you were too out of it to remember–maybe even see it with how blurred your vision was.

Your earlier tears—those tears of sadness, of fear that they might leave you, that they might break your heart—shifted. They no longer stung with the weight of abandonment but softened into something more profound. They became tears of pleasure.

Your heart, once clenched with fear and doubt, was now full—overflowing with something gentle, something unspoken, but undeniable. It wasn’t just relief; it was something deeper. The marks of your bond, the quiet promises that passed between you, were beginning to settle in your skin, into your soul.

The anxiety that had once twisted in your chest, the fear that they would eventually slip away, was transformed now. In its place, you could feel the steady, unshakable presence of their connection to you. Their touch, their scent, the weight of their bodies near you—it was all part of you now.

Later, you found yourself nestled between them, your body tucked close as the four of you curled up together in the small bed. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional rustle of blankets. Sirius, who had been the most distant, now lay with his arm across your waist, his breath even and calm against your skin. Remus was on the other side, his back to yours, his warmth a comforting constant as you all found a rhythm together.

James, still close, shifted slightly in his sleep, his hand brushing across your hair. You sighed deeply, feeling the peace settle over you like a thick, soft blanket. Every part of you, every part of this moment, felt complete.

And with that, you understood. You understood the bond—how, in a way that was unexplainable, yet irrefutable, you were intricately woven into their lives, and they into yours. It wasn’t just fate. It was this—the quiet knowledge that, from now on, you would always be part of them. That you were theirs, as they were yours.

As you lay there, tucked into them, your body began to relax, the warmth of their embrace washing over you. Your skin seemed to hum with the connection, a gentle vibration of energy coursing beneath your skin. It was a bond, a promise—one that would last, that would hold.

The mark, invisible to the eye, burned into your heart—a symbol of the truth you now knew, of the future that had been set long before you could even comprehend it.

The weight of their promise to stay with you, to never leave, fills the space between your hearts, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling a peaceful purr rise from your chest, soft and content. There was no fear now, no loneliness. Only the warmth of their love, their touch, their presence.

You were theirs. And they were yours. And everything, finally, fell into place.

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nottivagos · 1 day ago

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HELLOOO!! Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Thursday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Rockstar!Daniel Ricciardo who gets a little jealous at a rumour that his lovely Popstar!Reader is cheating on him, then alleviates the stress with... an amp?!

an: NESSA BARRETT. this is all your fault. going into this fic, i thought "hey, let me listen to nessa barrett for a bit, pornstar is a pretty good song!" THEN I FOUND S.L.U.T.?! im sorry but it just SCREAMED this idea.

Daniel was sick and tired of this bullshit. He knew he'd taken a risk by dating a popstar, but he was able to overcome the knowledge that sleazy gossip magazines would be like vultures on him all the time.

Eyes glued to his phone, the grip tightening as he read each headline with growing irritation. You'd been allegedly sleeping with a collaborator featured on your latest album, blurry pictures of you two together outside a nightclub ‘disclosed’ and plastered on the front pages.

He shoved his phone into his pocket with an annoyed grunt, ignoring the buzzing notifications from his manager with gritted teeth. Trying to clear his head, he held his guitar in a death grip, attempting to strum— or at least make some noise to distract him from the social media crisis happening.

On the other hand, there was you, basking in the morning of a new found freedom after a hard slog to produce your own music for the past 5 months. You hadn't had a morning to laze about for a while, and you knew that Danny would be busy trying to compose something, so you made your way to his little home studio.

Soft footsteps entered the room, signalling Danny to snap his head up, brown eyes staring like daggers at you. Tossing his guitar back onto its stand, he strode over to you, tense and irked.

“Are you fucking someone else?” his voice was an irritated growl, jaw locking tightly into place as he looked at you with that piercing, dark hazel gaze. “Answer me,” the tone of his voice was dangerous.

“No.” Your voice calm and collected as you replied, swallowing the small, sour lump forming in your throat. “I'm not.”

“Then why the hell is your ass all over those stupid gossip mags, posing you like a cheating whore?” He words bit, each syllable striking like a sharp gash of a knife on your skin, the intensity of his anger suffocating you, silencing you.

“It's just a rumour, Daniel.” The full name flowing bitterly off your tongue twisted the knife deeper, as he gripped your neck, engulfing it with one hand. “Did that hit a nerve?” you jabbed again, “Didn't realise full naming you had such a dramatic effect.” Your poison spoke whilst smirking, as he pinned you firmly against the wall.

Despite the cocky demeanour, you were boiling inside. Adrenaline pumped through your veins in the heated moment, the bubbling heat pooling down, creating a slick heat as Danny's eyes flared with rage.

Hot, ragged breath fanned onto your face, Danny's flushed cheeks radiating anger and pent-up stress. “Do you understand the stress this is bringing me, huh?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he let go of the vice of a grip he had on your throat. “Do you?” barking angrily, lips dangerously close to your own.

“No, Danny, I don't.” a whisper escaped your glossy lips, nose nuzzling closer to his. “Are you angry at me?” the sweetness of your pretty voice drawled off your tongue, plump lips pouting, teasing the distance between you.

An annoyed grunt was your response, chapped lips crashing onto your perfectly kept ones immediately after. Moaning softly into Danny's mouth, his tongue intertwined with yours, your shared saliva mingling together.

A distinct line of saliva connected both of you together, lips pulling away for a brief moment. “You're torture,” he gruffly panted, rage simmering underneath his large, brown eyes, “pure fucking torture.”

Wrapping a firm hand around your wrist, he yanked you across his music studio with a swift tug, treading across the scattered wires and other various equipment. He gave you a firm but gentle shove forward, pushing your chest flush against the amp.

A large hand tangled in your hair, wrapping it tightly into a makeshift ponytail, whilst the other gripped your curved hip, holding you in place. An abrupt tug of your locks made a yelp escape your lips, back arching so your round ass stood high in the air.

Letting go of your hair, fingertips trailed down your spine to the hem of your dress, already riding up your curve, pushing it up to reveal your soaked panties, the cold gush of air against your slick heat causing you to gasp.

Hooking two fingers underneath your underwear, he pulled them down to your ankles. “So fucking wet for me already, huh?” his voice was dark, kneading the bare flesh with his palms.

You bit your lip, suppressing a small gasp, rubbing your thighs together for some friction. Danny, however, had other plans. One hand came in between your legs, splitting them open again.

“Danny—” you were cut off by the harsh crack on your ass, causing you to yelp and your knees to buckle.

“You want to whore around, huh?” He growled into your ear, one hand wrapping around your neck again. “Cause me all this stress,” he muttered as he slapped again, a red handprint revealing on your asscheek, “ruin my reputation. You deserve some kind of punishment for that.”

Whining, your cunt dripped, a few overflowing juices trickling down your thighs onto the amp below. Danny responded with an unamused tut, followed by the clinking of metal dropping onto the floor and a faint zipper.

He let his slacks fall to the floor, rubbing his clothed erection against your wet hole, making your hips buckle and thighs tremble.

“Needy girl.” He drawled out the degrading comment, pulling down his boxers to let his hardened length spring free. Teasing the tip at your slick folds, you whined again, face flushed with the electricity shooting through your body from the sexual anticipation.

Calloused hands cupped your hips, grabbing them as Danny's erection thrusted deep into your cunt, stretching it open.

“So fucking tight f’me, aren't ya,” he groaned, pounding into your ass like a horny teenager, thrusts erratic and uncomposed. “Taking me so well,” he grunted breathlessly, your sweet moans filling the room as you raced your release.

“D-Danny, please—” you whined, mind fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure, hips moving and jerking with Danny's erratic movements, as your thighs began to tremble, gripping onto the amp until your knuckles went white, “I’m gonna—”

“Then come,” he spat, chasing his own release with gritted teeth, “come all over my cock.”

In one final thrust, you let go, pussy walls fluttering and clenching around Danny's cock. You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as back arched in pleasure, feeling your release pool out of you like a waterfall.

Danny wasn't far behind, burying his hard length inside as thick ropes of cum painted your walls white, a large, guttural groan leaving his lips.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he pulled out of you, watching his cum overflowing out of your ass, dripping down your bare flesh. Quickly, he pulled up his trousers and boxers, revelling in the twitchy, messy state you currently were in.

Pulling out his phone from his back pocket, he flashed a photo of your leaking cunt, your combined juices trailing down your thighs with a low chuckle.

“Maybe I'll send this to one of those magazines to show them how much of a slut you are for me.”

danny is infiltrating my every thought. is this a curse, or blessing perhaps? maybe the filth is a drug. we'll never know... unless you send me your dirtiest thoughts for an edition in my notebook.. your choice though.. - notti <3

#nottivagos #f1 x reader #f1 scenarios #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #dr3 #daniel ricciardo drabble #dr3 x reader #formula 1 #formula one

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xoxorealitygalore · 2 days ago

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Trust and Believe V

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Joe and Keyshia sat across from each other in the cozy, dimly lit therapy room. The quiet hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, and the tension between them felt palpable, even in this neutral space meant for healing. They had been to therapy a handful of times before, but today felt different. It was as if they were on the precipice of something—some breakthrough, some painful truth or realization.

The therapist, a middle-aged woman named Dr. Reynolds, sat across from them, her calm demeanor offering a quiet sense of reassurance. She had seen many couples come through her doors, some barely hanging on, others desperate for answers, and some simply unsure of where to start. Joe and Keyshia were somewhere in between.

Keyshia sat with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked between Joe and Dr. Reynolds, but her body language was tense—on guard, as if she were preparing herself for something that might hurt. Joe, on the other hand, leaned back slightly on the couch, looking more relaxed but with an undercurrent of nervousness. His fingers tapped lightly on his thigh as he glanced at Keyshia, a small furrow in his brow.

Keyshia spoke first. Her voice, though calm, carried the weight of a lifetime of unspoken emotions.

“It’s hard,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “It’s really hard, Dr. Reynolds. I feel like I’m fighting a battle inside myself every day. Every time I get upset, every time something triggers me, my insides just… burn up. I feel like I’m going crazy, like I’m about to lose control. But I’ve learned to control it. I’ve learned not to crash out, not to let it all explode. And that’s been tough. Really tough.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded, acknowledging the depth of what Keyshia was expressing. She understood that emotions like the ones Keyshia was describing weren’t easily managed, and that the act of controlling one’s own emotional responses took more than just willpower—it took self-awareness, time, and effort. Keyshia wasn’t just talking about being angry or upset; she was describing the intense, gut-wrenching, almost uncontrollable feelings that came from years of emotional turmoil.

Joe shifted in his seat, looking down for a moment before meeting Keyshia’s eyes. There was a mix of regret and guilt in his gaze. He knew he had played a part in bringing them to this place, and the weight of that was heavy on his heart. He had cheated on Keyshia, and now they were here, trying to piece together the fragments of their broken relationship.

“I didn’t make it easy for you,” Joe said quietly, his voice full of regret. “I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

Keyshia let out a small, almost dismissive laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of amusement, but more of a laugh born out of frustration. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked away from him, her jaw clenched. She was tired of hearing the same apologies. She had heard them countless times before, each one seeming more like an empty gesture than a true sign of remorse.

“I’m tired of hearing that, Joe,” Keyshia said, her voice low but firm. “I’m tired of hearing you say sorry and not understanding why it even happened in the first place. You don’t get to just apologize and think that fixes everything. I need to understand why. I need to know why you cheated. What happened? Where did we go wrong?”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Joe's eyes dropped once more, as if he were searching for the right words, for an answer that could satisfy the pain and confusion in her voice. He didn’t have an immediate answer, not one that felt worthy of her pain, but he knew he had to try.

"I… I don’t know," he said slowly, as if the admission pained him. "I think I was selfish. I didn’t think about how my actions would affect you, or how they would affect us. I wasn’t thinking about the relationship, I was thinking about myself. I don’t want to make excuses, but I know I screwed up. I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. But what I can do is try to be better now. And I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s all I have."

Keyshia was quiet for a moment, processing his words. Her expression softened, but the pain was still evident in her eyes. The trust that had once been a solid foundation between them had been shattered, and rebuilding it seemed like an impossible task.

Dr. Reynolds, sensing the tension between them, decided to step in gently.

"It’s clear that both of you are carrying a lot of pain," she said, her voice calm and steady. "And it’s also clear that Keyshia has made significant progress in managing her emotions. But managing emotions doesn’t mean they go away, Keyshia. You’ve been working hard to control how you respond, but it’s important to also understand where those emotions come from and what they mean. And Joe, you’re carrying your own guilt. The question now is how you both move forward from here."

Keyshia nodded, her arms still tightly crossed. She could feel the weight of her emotions building up inside her, but she had learned over the years how to keep them at bay. Still, there was a part of her that wanted to scream, to shout at Joe for everything that had gone wrong. She wanted him to understand just how deep the hurt went, just how much she had to fight every day not to let that hurt control her. But she didn’t want to explode again. She didn’t want to crash out.

“I’ve been doing better, but it’s still hard,” Keyshia admitted, her voice quiet but honest. “Sometimes I just want to lose control. Sometimes I just want to scream at you, at everything. But I know that won’t help. It won’t fix anything. But I don’t know how to stop feeling the way I do.”

Joe looked at her, his heart aching. He could see the inner turmoil she was going through, the battle she fought every day to keep her emotions in check. And he knew, deep down, that he had been the catalyst for so much of that pain.

“I get it,” he said softly. “I really do. And I’m sorry. I don’t want to make it harder for you, Keyshia. I want to be better. I want to fix this, but I know it’s going to take time. And I know I can’t just tell you it’s going to be okay. I have to show you.”

Keyshia’s eyes softened slightly, but there was still a guardedness to her expression. She wasn’t ready to fully let her guard down. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. But she appreciated that Joe was at least acknowledging her pain and the effort she was putting into holding everything together.

Dr. Reynolds spoke again, guiding them back to the heart of the issue.

“Keyshia, it seems like you’ve made a lot of progress in understanding and managing your emotions,” she said. “But you’ve also been through a lot. You’re not just controlling your reactions; you’re trying to make sense of them, and that’s a crucial part of healing. Joe, you’ve acknowledged your mistakes. The next step is to explore how you both can begin to rebuild trust and communication.”

Keyshia nodded, a quiet sigh escaping her lips. "I just don't understand how things went wrong. How did we get here? I want to understand how we got to this point so that I can make sense of it. I don’t want to keep feeling this way, but it’s hard when I feel like there’s so much left unanswered.”

Joe glanced at her, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He wished he could explain everything, wished he could give her the answers she was desperately searching for. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure himself. He didn’t know when or how things had started to unravel. He had been selfish, disconnected, and unable to see how his actions affected the person he loved most.

“I don’t have all the answers, Keyshia,” he said softly. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to try. I can’t promise that things will be perfect, but I can promise that I’m going to work every day to be the person you deserve.”

The room fell into a quiet stillness as the words hung in the air. Joe's vulnerability, his willingness to admit his faults and face the consequences of his actions, was a step toward healing. But it was only one step. The journey ahead would be long, full of hard conversations, raw emotions, and painful revelations.

Keyshia looked at Joe, her eyes searching his face for something—some sign that he truly meant it, that he was ready to do the hard work that rebuilding trust required. She didn’t know if she could fully trust him again, not yet, but there was a small part of her that felt the smallest flicker of hope.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you completely,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “But I’m willing to try. For us. For me.”

And in that moment, both Joe and Keyshia knew that while the road ahead would be difficult, it was the only path worth walking. Together.

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fanwarriorfictions · 1 day ago

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Help Me, Help You - Part Fifteen

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Y/n isn’t taking any of these males shit

Warnings- fighting, angst

Series Masterlist

Part Fifteen

Fenrys is ready to kill the male on the other side of the door.

First, he breaks Y/n’s heart and then he interrupts them right before Fenrys can fully ravish her. The only thing stopping him from throwing that door open and driving a sword through the male’s gut, is Y/n lying beneath him, covered only by the blanket he’d thrown over her. The overwhelming territorial instinct in him wants to keep her hidden, no one else would see her like this, a voice in his head screaming mine, mine, mine.

Y/n moves, as if to get up and go to the door in nothing but the sheet and Fenrys glares down at her, “Don’t you dare.”

He’s up before she can hiss at him, she’ll have to save all that hissing for later once Fenrys dealt with her prick of a brother. She can yell at him all she wants but he’ll have her moaning his name again in no time.

Not bothering with a shirt, Fenrys stalks across the room and throws the door open. No sooner than the door revealing the hall is he met with a fist flying into his face, catching him across the jaw. His head whips to the side and he just barely keeps his balance, despite the room shifting on its axis in his vision.

“Vaughan!”

Fenrys wipes the small trickle of blood from his mouth on the back of his hand and bares his teeth in a mocking grin, “Is that all you got? Your sister hits harder than that.”

Vaughan is an imposing male, almost as tall and dark as Lorcan, no doubt he could’ve killed Fenrys the moment he’d opened the door, but he’d held back. Whether it be for his sake or for his sister’s, Fenrys didn’t really care.

Fenrys launches himself at Vaughan, throwing his fist into the male’s face similarly to how he’d done to Fenrys. And suddenly they are a storm of fists and snarls, no better than wild beasts. Each hit Fenrys lands, Vaughan returns, earning both of them bruises and bloody noses and split knuckles.

His side sings in pain as Vaughan lands a strike to his ribs, stealing the air out of his lungs. Fenrys kicks out, catching Vaughan’s and sending the male careening to the ground. He doesn’t hesitate to rain down his fist into Vaughan’s face, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone.

“Fenrys stop,” Y/n orders and he makes the mistake of looking back at her.

Vaughan shoots up and tackles Fenrys to the ground, sending him sprawling backwards into the room. The male lands two hits to either side of his face before Fenrys can throw Vaughan to the side, shattering the washbasin and soaking them both in water from the pitcher. Fenrys climbs onto the male, getting one satisfying punch to his mouth. He doesn’t have time to relish the feeling before Vaughan flies forward, his head catching Fenrys so hard on his chin that his canine rips clean through his lip. His weight shifts backwards, and Vaughan is throwing him off, Fenrys feels his head connect with the edge of the wooden frame of the bed, the splitting pain nearly debilitating.

Vaughan is up, rushing for him and before the male can pin him down, Fenrys kicks him back, his heel driving into Vaughan’s gut, sending him sprawling back. Fenrys had always been quicker than the male, he uses that to his advantage as he leaps to his feet, throwing another harsh kick to Vaughan’s side before he pins the male down, hitting the male again and again and again letting his rage and pent up emotion drive the power in each hit. When he rears back for another, his wrist is caught, nails digging into his skin hard enough to bleed.

“That’s enough.”

Her voice is so lethally calm, so powerful, with that air of dominance, that Fenrys freezes, Vaughan beneath him doing the same. Fenrys dares a glance back at her, noting the impromptu dress she’d made of the sheet covering her, and then he sees her face and Fenrys has the urge to lower his gaze.

The picture of rage, her eyes are narrowed to slits, and she looks like a predator ready to kill. He’d never felt more like prey under that stare, her keen eyes are now lethal weapons and she looks more animal than fae, one wrong move and she would strike.

Fenrys slowly pushes to his feet, wincing slightly when she lets go of his wrist and the cold air stings the small wounds in his skin. She looks at him like she is holding him at the tip of a sword, ready to run him through.

“Y/n,” he says softly.

“Out,” she hisses, glaring at him then down at her brother, “Both of you, now.”

Fenrys doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, helplessly heeding her commands. He doesn’t wait to see if Vaughan will follow the order or not, if the male is smart he will. He turns when he’s just outside the door, Vaughan stepping out beside him. A wad of cloth hits Fenrys in the chest, a shirt, and then the door slams shut hard enough to shake the stone beneath his feet.

They stand there in silence for a moment, as if their minds were still trying to catch up to what had just happened. And once his mind does just that, Fenrys curses. They’d fucked up, bad.

“I need a drink,” Vaughan sighs, looking at that door like it had mortally wounded him, and then he turns, stalking down the hall, “Put your fucking shirt on.”

Fenrys glares at the male’s back but slides the shirt over his head. With one last look at the door to his room, their room, he swears he can feel her piercing glare through the door, Fenrys follows Vaughan silently.

Despite the late hour, the hearth still blazes with heat, the very few riders still awake feeding the fire. Fenrys sits close to the edge, letting the heat dry off his clothes, letting it warm the chill that had set into his bones the further he walked away from her.

Vaughan sat a few feet away from him and Fenrys is more than a little pleased to see the bruises and blood on the male’s face. No doubt he looks nearly identical, he can feel the ache in his jaw and in his ribs, hopefully nothing broken, but given the sharp pain with each breath, he doesn’t think he’ll be that lucky.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Moonbeam,” Vaughan snaps, turning his glaring eyes from the fire.

Fenrys simply grins back at him, “You know you love the attention.”

Vaughan scoffs and he turns back to the fire, always a male of few words, and a male who loathed attention. Fenrys knew more about him now from the month of traveling with Y/n than he’d learned in the century of fighting beside the male. And still, he feels like he barely knows Vaughan at all.

“Where were you going?” Fenrys asks.

It’s a simple question, but Vaughan is silent for a long time as if there was far more to it than a simple answer. Fenrys lets him stew in it, trying to keep back the words that he wants to scream at the male, why wouldn’t you go back for her?

“I don’t know,” Vaughan finally says, “I was just flying. Anywhere, everywhere.”

“Except home,” Fenrys says shortly.

He sees the wince, the hurt, and Fenrys is satisfied knowing that it wounded him. He deserves it, Fenrys tells himself, even if small part of him feels bad for his friend. There is still a larger part of him that seethes at the male for the hurt he’d caused Y/n, and for the rude interruption.

“I wasn’t sure I had a home to go back to,” Vaughan says after a moment.

Fenrys doesn’t say anything, only because he feels her approach long before he sees her. As much as he wants to dig into the male, it wasn’t his place, and Y/n is more than capable of fighting her own battles.

“Bullshit.”

Fenrys look up at her as she moves into the space between him and her brother. She’s dressed in the warm thick clothes he’d stripped off of her less than an hour ago. Fenrys fights off the rising heat in his blood at the memory of her, bare and writhing beneath him, the memory of her taste on his tongue.

“Y/n,” Vaughan tries to placate her, but she’s having none of it.

“You never even tried,” she snaps, her arms crossed over her chest as if she was trying to shield her heart and hold herself together, “For twenty years, you left and you never even tried to come back.”

“I did,” Vaughan snaps.

Fenrys watches the air punch from Y/n’s lungs, “What?”

Fenrys feels like he shouldn’t be there for this conversation, but he couldn’t get up and make himself leave. It felt like there was this little thread holding him in place, and on the other side of it was Y/n and all of her rage and fear and sadness.

“I checked on you,” Vaughan explains, “Every few years, and every time I saw you through the window. I saw our mother’s face, dead because I brought a monster back home with me.”

The rage on her face shatters, “Vaughan.”

“She almost caught me,” he says, “When I came back that last time, it wrecked me to leave you there, knowing you hated me, and Maeve had sensed it.”

Fenrys feels cold despite the roaring fire in front of him. And by the way she is trembling, Fenrys knows Y/n feels that chill in her own bones. He reaches for her, taking that shaking hand in his own and she sinks into the seat beside him, holding onto him like a lifeline. Vaughan glances between them, his brow furrowed like he was trying to decipher something. And then there’s a look of surprise and resignation in his eyes that Fenrys doesn’t have the time to figure out.

“She was watching me,” Vaughan says after a moment, “For years trying to figure out where I’d been, who had caused my heart break. I was only able to get away a few times to check on you, only when she was distracted.”

Vaughan gives Fenrys a sad look, and he knows exactly what the male means. When Fenrys had been called to her room, hours turning into days, into weeks. Despite the horror of it, Fenrys is glad Vaughan had used that time to check of the female beside him. Even if he hadn’t known her yet, the cruel strings of fate had helped him protect her, that was worth his suffering.

“I stayed away because I wanted to keep you safe from her,” Vaughan says, “And then she was gone, and it had been twenty years since you’d told me to leave and never come back, I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Y/n whispers, and Fenrys can hear the tears in her voice, “I’ve missed you every day, every minute since you left.”

“I know,” Vaughan sighs, “I think a part of me already knew that. But she was gone, I felt it the very moment she’d been slain, the blood oath untethering me, releasing me, and for the first time in nearly four hundred years, I was free.”

The way he says it, almost like Vaughan still couldn’t believe it. Fenrys knows exactly how the male feels, because he felt the exact same way, even as he watched the valg queen burn.

“My whole life I have been chained,” Vaughan says, “Shackled to my father’s will, to Maeve’s. And suddenly, nothing, my wings could take me anywhere and everywhere because I willed it, no one else.”

A look of understanding flits across Y/n’s face, right beside the sadness and despair, “You weren’t shackled to me anymore, either.”

Vaughan shakes his head, “I never was, you were the one thing I chose. Protecting you, loving you, being your brother was my choice, my duty above all else and I failed you, and for that I am so sorry.”

She shakes her head, “No-“

“Yes,” Vaughan says quickly, “I did, and I know there is nothing I can say, or do to fix that, I can only beg for your forgiveness.”

Fenrys releases her a second before she moves, crashing into her brother with her arms thrown around him. Vaughan instantly holds her against his chest, his arms cradling her, shielding her from the world.

There’s a warmth in his chest at the sight, and for a split second, pain. What he wouldn’t give to beg for Connall’s forgiveness, to hold his brother one more time. Like she can feel it, like she knows his mind has drifted back to that throne room, his brother’s eyes blankly staring at him, Y/n pulls away from her brother. Her eyes, keen and knowing, find his, and Fenrys gives her non-convincing smile.

He wouldn’t ruin this for her, not when she actually has the chance to fix what has been broken with her brother. So, Fenrys stands, taking a single step closer to her, and because he is a selfish male, he leans down to press a soft kiss against her lips.

“I’ll be in our room,” he whispers against her mouth, “Take your time.”

He notes the way Vaughan’s hands are clenched into fists, the male showing considerable restraint, no doubt imagining throwing Fenrys into the fire to get him away from his sister.

“I’ll be waiting,” he says lowly, kissing Y/n once more before he pulls away.

And because he is completely unreasonable and still pissed at the male for earlier, Fenrys grins at Vaughan and winks before he turns and walks away. He laughs at the low growl and answering hiss behind him.

It’s hard not to watch him as he walks away, noting the slight limp in his step. There had been a moment during their fight that she was sure one of them wouldn’t come out alive, he was injured, probably more than he’d be willing to admit. She wants to follow him, to heal those wounds, her magic itching to help, to soothe.

“How did that happen?”

She tears her eyes away from the now empty spot Fenrys had last been, to find her brother watching her with knowing eyes. Part of her wants to hide from that look, Vaughan always saw to much, knew everything before she did, even when it was her own mind he had figured out.

“What?”

“You and him,” Vaughan says simply.

There’s more to it than those three words, she just didn’t know what exactly he was holding back.

“I found him after you’d left for Antica,” she explains.

It feels like she was transported back to that little human town, watching the male strike out with every vendor in the market. She’d heard the wolf was home and she tracked him down, part of her thought maybe Vaughan would have been with him, but then she’d seen Fenrys in the market, asking the same questions she’d been asking for months. So she watched him, keeping her distance, taking a step closer each day until she’d been right beside him. And then she’d heard of the ship leaving for Antica, the whispers of strangers on the passing wind, a gift from the Wyrd.

“I saw an opportunity,” she continues, “With my limited experience of the world, I had no idea how to get across the ocean to find you. And he was hitting a dead end. We struck a deal.”

Vaughan is quiet for a moment, “When did you start loving him?”

Her heart stops dead in her chest and she isn’t sure she’d heard him right, not until her gives her that smile that said he knew everything already, just wanted her to confirm it. Loving Fenrys? The idea is so ludicrous that she almost laughs, but then her heart starts thundering beneath her ribs and her breath feels caught in her chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stutters, “I don’t.”

Vaughan laughs and the sound holds little joy, “You do.”

There’s no room for argument, as if her heart belonging to the golden male in her room was a simple fact that was unavoidable. And Vaughan seems to be resigning himself to it, forcing back the urge to be her vengeful big brother that would kill any male who looked at her.

“Of all the bastards in the world, you had to pick that one.” Her shoulders tense and he shifts his weight, nudging her with his own, “Relax, I’m only teasing.”

When he sits back in his seat, she sees him wince and she remembers that unforgiving kick Fenrys had landed to her brother’s side. She lifts her hand, letting that warm ball of power fill her palm as she rests it on his arm. It feels like her magic seeks out each wound, knitting together broken bones and bleeding skin. Vaughan takes a deep breath as his broken rib settles back into place, and he smiles softly at her.

“I’d forgotten how that felt,” he says, his face falling, “I’m sorry, Y/n, for all of it.”

“I understand,” she says, pulling away her hand once she feels no more wounds to mend.

“Only because you are to forgiving,” he laughs mirthlessly, “You have every right to hate me.”

“Trust me,” she says, “I am still furious with you, and I wish more than anything you would have just come home to tell me all of this without me sailing across the world to find you.”

He winces, “I am so sorry.”

She continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “I am furious, but I understand, and I will understand if you want to keep flying wherever your wings may take you. I just hope those wings will bring you home someday.”

There is this intense relief on his face when he says, “They will, I swear it.”

Y/n holds out her hand, “And I will be waiting for you there”

He doesn’t take her hand, and she frowns.

“No,” Vaughan shakes his head and he glances behind her, “I expect your home is somewhere else now.”

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire, @answer-the-sirens

#throne of glass x reader #throne of glass #tog #tog x reader #fenrys tog #help me help you #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys x reader

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chlotapcs · 2 days ago

Text

shy!reader paired with bf!chris

"not so shy anymore" by @chlotapcs 𝜗𝜚

an. sorry! this was rushed, i was on the verge of falling asleep and the idea was kinda spiraling in my head so i didn't exactly know what the fuck i was writing.

you were never a party girl, hanging inside with your boyfriend chris and if you did go out, it was too a beach to watch the sunset. but now. now you were somehow dressed up in a short dress and makeup covering your face, standing outside a house that was blasting music from inside. your hand in chris's as you squeeze it, an uneasy feeling filling your gut.

chris had somehow convinced you to go to a party with him, wanting to show you to the world outside of your tiny space. it took almost all day before you finally caved in, his soft eyes and pouty face winning you over.

"it'll be okay baby. i'll be right here, next to you, the whole time, 'k?" chris says as he turns to look at you, tilting his head as his hands move to your cheeks. you slowly move your body to look at him and sigh.

"yeah, lets get this over with." and with your words, chris was dragging you through the crowd, his hand in yours as he tries to find his friends. music was filling your ears, people bumping into you as they dance and scream their songs. it was already hot, feeling the damp temperature against your practically naked body.

chris finally finds his friends, squeezing your hand as if reassuring you that he was still there with you. you stumble next to him as he slows down and stops, patting one of his friends back. the group quickly dabs each other up and greets you, shaking your free hand. you give them a small smile, nodding at them before handing each you and chris a beer bottle. usually, you weren't the drinking type, but you could down one if needed. and now was needed. if you were going to last more than a few minutes in this party, you would need a drink. maybe a few drinks.

you take the drink out of his friends hand and quickly bring the bottle to your lips. you feel the liquid going down your throat, making you hum before taking the bottle away from your lips. you discreetly make a disgusted face but it doesn't pass by chris, him catching it almost instantly. he couldn't help but let out a small laugh, moving his hand to your lip and wiping away a small drop of the drink that was left on your lip.

"take it easy ma. i've got you." chris leans in close, murmuring in my ear over the loud music in the background. you turn to look at him and smile, leaning into his touch before patting his chest.

"i promise i'll go easy baby."

that was a few drinks ago. you went a little overboard with the trying to calm down your nerves. you had a few too many drinks, chris's friends handing you shot every once in a while. you have been playing beer pong with his friends, chris waiting in the line for the bathroom. you were doing good, cheering and laughing at things you wouldn't usually be laughing at.

you were currently leaning on a wall, waiting for your turn to play beery pong again until you feel hands on your waist. you, of course, think it's chris, feeling the hands squeeze your waist gently.

"hey there pretty girl." you hear a voice cut through the loud music and you suddenly realize, that wasn't chris. you look up, seeing a boy you've never seen in your life before.

"sorry. i'm taken." you say, feeling sober instantly as you try to get the boy's hands off of you. but he just pushes you closer to the wall, pinning you there. you face drops as your hands move to his wrist, trying harder to get him off. you could see him part his lips to say something else but then he's thrown off of you. your eyes widen, seeing the boy hit the ground hard.

you look up, expecting to see chris but you see one of his friends. your brows furrow before you feel him take your wrist, tugging you inside the house.

"come on, lets find chris." he says, keeping his grip on you tight so he wouldn't lose you. you stumble with him, the alcohol coming back to effect you as your vision blurs, trying to blink away the blurriness.

you follow his friend around until you feel your body come to a stop. you could barely make out who the figures in front of you were but when you feel hands on your cheeks, you knew it was Chris.

"hey ma? can you hear me?" chris asks, patting your cheek gently before you hear his friend mumbling something to him. you feel his grip tighten on you, like he heard something that got him upset.

"listen. i'm taking you home. you can be upset later but shes on the verge of passing out and she needs you. calm yourself." you hear his friend saying, ringing cutting through at times. you feel chris's hands move down your body, holding your waist as your feet begin to move again. your soon in feeling the cold air hitting you, chris picking you up and setting you in the back of the car. you lay yourself down in the backseat, letting out a hum as your eyes shut, falling into a deep sleep.

chris gets into the passenger seat, buckling up as he looks back at you, his eyes softer. but when he realizes you had passed out, he quickly looks back at his friend.

"what did he do to her?" chris asks, his voice stern. his friend quickly gets into the drivers seat, buckling up and starting the car.

"tried pinning her against the wall and that's it. I stopped him before anything else happened." his friends murmur, his eyes on the road as his hands grip his steering wheel. chris nods before looking back at you again. he had never seen you drunk and passed out like this before. his heart ached as he reached a hand back and rubs your waist.

"my sister says taking a warm bath with some bath bombs help her when shes hung over. or if she wakes up later tonight. i think she said lavender scent helps her the most?" his friend says, wanting to help you as much as he could. once he had met you, he thought of you like a little sister. he always took good care of you, making sure you were always safe whenever chris was off doing something else.

"got it. lavender bath bombs. thanks" chris nods, keeping his eyes on you as his hands move to your bare legs.

after a few minutes of driving, you were finally parked outside of your house. chris exits the car, his friend coming with him as he opens the back door. he carefully grabs you, cradling you with your head on his chest.

"need help with anything?" his friend asks, walking up next to chris, looking at the sleeping you in his arms.

"grab her shoes if you can?" chris nods towards my shoes on the ground, his friend quickly grabbing them as he closes the car door. he follows chris inside, setting your shoes down onto the floor next to all your other shoes and Chris turns around.

"thank you. i appreciate it." Chris tells his friend, giving him a genuine look on his face. his friend smiles and nods.

"anytime dude. I got you." he says before leaving the house, and closing the door. Chris lets out a breath before walking to their shared room, laying down your sleeping body on the bed. he kisses your forehead softly, moving the blanket over your body before walking to the bathroom. he quickly kneels down and goes under the sink, finding your bath bombs. he pulls out a lavender scented one and setting it down on the counter, knowing not to forget it.

once he's back into the room, he changes into some sweatpants and a wife beater, quickly getting into bed next to you. he gets under the covers, scooting next to you as he wraps his arms around your body, spooning you.

"i'll be here when you wake up mamas. I love you." Chris whispers in your ear before falling into a deep sleep next to you, knowing he would need it to take care of you tomorrow, knowing a headache and grumpy you would be here.

@mattspolitank @h3arts4harry @bernardsbendystraws @sophand4n4 @riversandwinds

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

#sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fanfic #fluff #chlotapcs

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mosoderbergh · 17 hours ago

Text

Chapter 3 of NSFW Emmrook, this time with an extra dose of hurt/comfort

So yeah, this one is set just after the fade prison. I had to (literally) interrupt the mindless smut for a healthy dose of tragedy.

Read the full fic here

Or Chapter 3 down below...

All that happens after they escape the fade prison, Rook could not have endured without Emmrich by their side. He makes sure they are unhurt. Makes sure they eat. He is calm in the face of the general panic. He is tethered to Rook - a hand on their shoulder to steady them where they stand, a knee resting against theirs when they sit next to each other, fingers intertwined under the table. And though Rook has no time to rest, no time to properly grieve, they draw strength from him. They catch him blinking away tears once, after they give a brief recount of their time away to the group. And they certainly notice the way the others treat Emmrich, all soft voices and encouraging smiles. At some point not quite a day after their return, they walk into the kitchen together and Taash casually greets Rook, then asks *Emmrich* if he’s doing ok.

“I’m fine, Taash, thank you”, he says, sounding ever so slightly indignant. Or embarrassed, maybe. Rook wishes they had the time to sit him down and talk things through.

Their moment comes not by a wave of fortune, but through Emmrich himself. No one protests when he takes them away to spend the night at the Necropolis. Least of all Rook. Even so, Rook can’t really bring themselves to have a hard conversation right then and there. They still feel raw, emotionally spent, and they have a suspicion Emmrich feels the same way. So they walk through the Memorial Gardens. Bask in the sweetness of the moment, the relief of their reunion.

“I am sorry, dearest”, Emmrich whispers in between two kisses. “I don’t remember if I said. I meant to.”

“I’m sorry too”, they say.

And it’s enough. Enough for the worry to fade from Emmrichs face, leaving only adoration and desire. All else can wait.

The sarcophagus is, perhaps, a touch morbid. But Rook isn’t easily shocked, and if Emmrich chose this place, it must be for a reason. In a strange way, Rook finds it romantic.

Emmrich kisses them deeply, reverently. Today, Rook doesn’t mind that he takes his time. They help each other out of layers of clothing, and for once, Emmrich lets his actions speak for him. Tracing each line of Rook’s body like he’s committing them to memory. Placing kisses on their hair, their forehead, their cheek, down their chest.

Rook clings to him in turn, drawing him in close, skin to skin. They stroke his back, whispering “I love you” into his ear over and over, as if they could wipe away all sorrow with their reassurances. They aren’t sure if they are trying to comfort him or themselves. They don’t even realise it’s the first time they ever say these words to him.

Emmrich’s lips return to theirs with fresh heat. They are both stark naked at this point, entangled with each other in the narrow confines of the coffin. Rook hooks a leg around his waist, so that his hardening cock is pressed against their clit. They moan into his mouth, running their fingers through his already messy hair-

Suddenly Emmrich breaks the kiss, his body curling in around them like something punched him in the groin. Rook is about to ask if they hurt him somehow when the sound from deep within his chest freezes their blood. Emmrich is crying.

“Oh.” They fumble for words. But once the dam is broken, they doubt Emmrich would even hear them. His entire body shakes with the force of his sobs. It seems he can barely draw breath. Rook can do nothing but wrap their arms around his shoulders for a proper hug. “Oh Maker, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. It’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.”

It takes a minute for Emmrich to be able to produce words.

“Forgive me”, he croaks then, his face buried in Rook’s hair, still weeping.

“Don’t apologise”, Rook says helplessly.

“I wanted… Tonight was supposed to be for you.”

“Emmrich, it’s ok.”

“I love you”, he says then, pulling back far enough so they can look into his reddened eyes. “Rook… You don’t know how I’ve suffered for the cowardice of not telling you sooner.”

“You didn’t have to”, Rook says. With all the things he did say, all the ways he treated them, they earnestly thought it was so heavily implied as to be already established. If they are honest, if somebody had asked them “Has Emmrich ever told you he loves you?”, they would probably have answered yes and meant it.

“I should have said it”, Emmrich says, insistent even though his voice is still shaky from crying. “I let my fears get the better of me. Fear and blasted pride. I wished for certainty. I thought it would be foolish to bare my heart only to end up alone once more.”

Rook would move mountains to comfort him. If only they knew the right words.

“I… honestly, if I told someone half the things you’ve whispered to me in the night, I’d easily consider that ‘baring my heart’”, they say, feeling very unhelpful indeed.

“Oh, don’t… don’t remind me of my failings there”, he says, suddenly heated.

“I… what?” Rook is so dumbfounded they forget to be gentle.

“I couldn’t bring myself to be honest with you about how I felt, and yet I allowed myself to push these things on you. To bring up the idea of having you carry my child, when I hadn’t even…”

“But you didn’t bring it up”, Rook points out. “I did. Twice.”

“You mentioned it, Rook. And I did nothing to stop myself. With no regard for your feelings.”

“My feelings are fine. We talked about this.”

“And I didn’t say nearly enough.” He cups Rook’s face with a long-fingered hand, his voice gentle. “Would you allow me to explain now?”

“If you want. Just… out of everything, I wouldn’t have thought *this* was something that bothered you so much.”

“Oh, but it is. There was much more to it than just a fantasy of... With you, at least. I’d been wondering, Rook, for quite some time, if… if I could allow myself to be hopeful. To believe that you would stay with me. Even after our adventure would be over. But then you were lost, and…”

“Emmrich…”

“Please. Let me… I thought you too young to trouble you with my need for... It had less to to with children, you must know that, and more with… Oh, my dearest heart. To make *you* my family. Tied together. Belonging together. Staying.”

His words fill Rook with a longing so deep it takes their breath away. It hits them just how close they came to losing an entire future. A life. It feels crushing all of a sudden. But they still have a weepy, beautiful man to deal with, and he still looks very nearly inconsolable. So they place a hand over his heart and take a deep breath, looking for the right words.

“You are safe with me”, they say, trying hard to put their entire heart into the words. “You are. Emmrich, if we survive this, as long as you’ll have me, I’m never…”

They can’t get the words out before they are crying themselves. They see Emmrich wiping away fresh tears before he pulls them into an embrace.

“I feel quite the same way, my love”, he says. His voice is steadier now, and they hear the beginnings of a smile. “I truly intended to be the one to care care of you tonight, you know.”

“Emmrich, love of my life, I think you’ll have to get used to the idea that this goes both ways”, Rook says, sniveling.

They both laugh. Or cry. Or a little bit of both.

There is more crying as the night goes on, and more than one grand declaration of love. There is even, at some point, sex, when simply being in each other’s arms doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Rook rides Emmrich as best they can while he holds them so close they can barely move.

They don’t say it that night, but as they drift to sleep on top of him, Rook can’t help but think that for the first time in their life, starting a family sounds pretty damn appealing.

It’s something to think about.

There’s just one more god to kill first.

#soooo that sure was something I just wrote #you cant tell me he's not a bigger crybaby than Rook #emmrich the necromancer #emmrich volkarin #dragon age the veilguard #emmrook #emmrich x rook #dragon age emmrich #da4 emmrich

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crackedpumpkin · 2 days ago

Text

All Too Human (02)

| 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

The advantage of being confined in the dungeons in an elven kingdom of another world you'd only read about in books, is that you didn't have a choice but to touch grass .

Figuratively, of course. The only form of grass you actually could find in your cell is damp moss. You'd recoiled from the grimy walls in the beginning, fingers itching for your phone, and your heart aching for your home.

Is this what it's like to go cold turkey without technology? you wonder, as futile as it seems when your hand meets the emptiness of your pockets each time. This sucks.

It’s probably around midnight, you guesstimate, as the dwarves are being shoved into individual cells. Your head tilts slightly when you hear a calm, boyishly charming voice speak up.

“Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.”

You suppress a cringe. Curiosity wins out over caution, and you step closer, eyeing the scene as the supposed heroes of the book voice their protests. A female elf stands in front of the cell to your left, staring down at one of the dwarves.

“Or nothing.” She smiles coldly, though a flicker of amusement passes through her gaze before she masks it in an instant. She turns, ready to leave. Your eyes meet hers, and a chill settles between you.

You’ve seen her before. Realisation dawns on you, and you snap your fingers. She’s the elf from the room you woke up in. The one Legolas likes. Well, Legolas and one of these dwarves. Fili, was it?

Either way, you feel nothing but pity for their little love triangle.

“You.” Her voice is devoid of warmth, eyes narrowing as she takes in your unusually clean appearance. You wave halfheartedly in response. She rolls her eyes and moves past your cell, paying you no mind.

Gripping the bars of the cell door, you watch her leave with Legolas. The elven prince glances back at you, brief concern flitting across his expression, before turning to follow her.

Even though you’ve tried to accept that one of your ( formerly ) favourite characters barely acknowledges you now, you can’t help but feel disappointed by his lack of empathy. He showed you concern at first, but over time it became clear that you were never of much importance to him anyway.

“Is there someone next to me?” The same charming voice calls out, his curiosity evident. Fili. You’re pretty sure it’s Fili that the elf has a situationship with. Ignoring his repeated question, you step toward the back of your cell, laying back down in the darkness with a sigh.

Minutes, maybe hours have passed since the dwarves were imprisoned, and the noise doesn’t cease. More cries of protest, vulgar swears (vulgar to them, but to you it’s like listening to a D&D party) , and lots of banging against their cell doors.

The one next to your cell seems to forget you’re even there, preoccupied by his daydreaming of the female elf, you suspect. What was her name again? You try to recall, feeling bad that her name hadn’t remained in your memory whilst the other two did.

Tawny.

Her name is Tawny , you decide with a vague sense of uncertainty.

Sleep feels as distant as the hot showers you’ve taken for granted in the past, but exhaustion pulls at you, demanding some rest despite the racket. You shift against the cold, hard floor, eyes drooping as you finally start to drift off.

But just as you’re about to fully pass out, a fresh wave of shouting erupts, this time more intense. Heavy footsteps approach, and a low, gravelly voice grumbles — almost growling — in defiance.

You sit up, grogginess partially clouding your mind. Blinking to rid the sleep from your eyes, you watch another dwarf being shoved into the cell opposite yours. His gaze is dark, and his gritted teeth tell you that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

He had that main character energy about him. If you aren’t wrong, he might be the very dwarf in charge of the whole group. God, you really hope you aren’t wrong.

Metal clangs as he’s forced inside, and he slams against the cell bars with a ferocity that startles you fully awake. His deep, frustrated voice fills the air, hurling harsh dwarvish insults that echo down the corridor, stirring a chorus of support from the others. It’s as if his very presence reignites their determination.

You let out a long, tired sigh.

Looks like you won’t be sleeping tonight.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you lean back, hoping the noise will eventually quiet down. But with their leader riled up, the others become even more animated, pounding against their bars and shouting until their voices become hoarse.

Your patience is stretched thin, and with each clang of metal or shouted curse, it frays a little more. You start pressing your hands over your ears, even resorting to tugging up half the tunic to cover them, but nothing dulls the sound.

Someone curses loudly enough that you jerk in your cell, biting back a groan. Eyes shut, you count to ten, then twenty, then thirty, promising yourself calm. But the noise only builds, louder and more grating by the second.

Something in you finally snaps. You raise your arm and slam it against your cell door, the metal clanging loud enough to cut through the noise. “I swear to God , if you guys don’t shut up for like, five minutes, I’m going to murder you myself.” The words hiss out louder than you intended, echoing through the dungeon like an accusation.

The dwarves fall silent, their protests cut off mid-sentence. You feel a dozen pairs of eyes shifting toward your cell, surprised, hopefully a little impressed even, by the venom in your tone.

Thorin, in the cell directly across from you, lets out a low, humourless chuckle. “Bold words for someone trapped in a cage of her own,” he says, his voice edged with frustration. He crosses his arms, leaning against the walls of his cell. His eyes are narrowed, studying your being as if assessing how much of a threat you are

“Oh, quiet as mice for hours, and she suddenly snaps,” another dwarf with a long white beard chimes in, his tone amused. “Can’t say I blame her, mind. Some of us have been… shall we say, louder than others.” He gives a pointed glance toward the dwarf in the cell beside yours (the one you’ve assumed to be Fili).

“Who’s loud?” The voice comes from the left, a thick layer of teasing in his tone. “I think she’s just upset because we’ve been better company than her.”

You blink, absolutely floored by the audacity. “Are you shitting me?” you fire back, incredulous. “Better company? I don’t even fucking know who you are.”

“Oh, but you do know us now, don’t you?” he quips back, undeterred. “And I’d wager I’m the most charming cellmate you’ve ever had.”

You scoff. “Perish in a ditch, I beg of you.”

His chuckle is warm and unapologetic, and you can hear the grin in his voice even if you can’t see it. “Maybe it’s for the best that we aren’t proper cellmates. I’d probably steal all your attention.”

If he kept talking you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst a blood vessel or something from frustration. Instead, you hang your head and mumble out another plea like for the love of God please shut up so I can get some sleep.

“Oh, aye, that’s one way to call it,” the kind dwarf from earlier mutters, laughing softly. “Maybe we’ve all worn on her nerves, eh? A bit of quiet might do us all good.”

With an exhausted huff, you mutter, “Honestly, you guys are like a D&D party with no volume control.” A beat passes before the cellmate on your right breaks the silence.

“What’s a D&D party?”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

Exhaling slowly, exhaustion tinges each word that falls from your lips. “It’s…It’s nothing. Just, please let me sleep? It’s probably already three in the morning.”

Your request doesn’t go unheard, and the dwarves begin to quiet down.

Laying back down on the cold floor, your eyes finally shut.

— — — — — —

After your outburst from last night, you found yourself falling silent for the entire day. The cell door creaks open, the guard placing the usual tray of food down with a warning glare. You watch him leave with a scoff.

As if you had any energy to fight. They’d probably kick your ass in five seconds flat. Maybe ten, if you’re lucky.

“Where’s our food?”

You glance over at the cell beside Thorin’s, the dwarf inside whose question draws your attention, and catch sight of a dwarf with a tousled hat perched messily atop his head. He has a friendly face, framed by a bushy beard that seems to bounce with every word that leaves him.

Now that you think about it, all three dwarves opposite you have long beards, obscuring the lower half of their face. Damn. They’d do great as before and after models for a razor commercial, maybe break a Guinness World Record while at it too.

You can’t help but notice how he leans against the bars, a grin spreading across his face. He falters when the guards walk past him without another word, leaving you to your meal. You choose to sit in the dimly illuminated area of your cell near the door, slowly chewing the coarse bread.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you look up to see the dwarves across (excluding Thorin), their gazes fixed on the tray with a hint of hunger. You glance from the tray to them, uncertainty gnawing at your gut.

Should you?

On one hand, you knew perfectly well that they're the good guys. Technically the elves are too , you think, struggling to recall the twisted morals that Tolkien, that bitch, wrote about.

It's no wonder you couldn’t remember much. With the complexity of the world he built and the fact that you'd only been sixteen or so when you last read about Bilbo and his adventures, you probably would've died had you not recalled Sauron's name.

With a sigh, the decision is made. “Stick your hand out,” you say gruffly. Their eyes widen, but they follow your instructions, a mix of reluctance and hope in their expressions. You tear the loaf into three, keeping one for yourself.

Hollowing out the bread with your fingers, you fill it with roasted vegetables from a wooden bowl. The dwarves watch, curious about your next move.

Standing up, you pray your trusty aim hasn't grown rusty. Extending your arm through the bars of your cell, you inhale slowly before flicking your wrist. The first makeshift bun leaves your hand, plopping neatly into the palm of the white-bearded dwarf.

He beams, withdrawing his hand back into his cell. “Thank you, lass!” he calls out gratefully, munching down. The second dwarf is more eager now, catching the second bun you throw. His expression morphs into one of disgust when he sees the vegetables inside, only to hurriedly take big bites when he sees your glare.

You’d be damned if he tried to throw away the precious food you’d so kindly given them. With a satisfied smile, you flex your fingers, recalling the countless hours spent at the batting cages back home. Dartboards, too. Not exactly a common hobby you shared with your friends, but it gave you an aim you could trust, and a reminder of who you truly are.

“So lass, what brings you here to the dungeons of the woodland realm?” The kindness in the first dwarf’s voice prompts you to part your lips, only to pause when you see Thorin’s eyes set on you, waiting for your response.

You swallow.

“Why should I spill my secrets to a bunch of strangers?” You reply dryly, drawing a chuckle from him. The memory of how you’d been treated when you’d started saying stuff about how you’re from another world makes you press your lips together in a thin line. Who’s to say they wouldn’t see you the same way they did?

“Aye, ye've got it right. I’m Balin, and this here is Thorin. The oaf who almost got all of us in trouble is Bofur.”

“I’m Kili,” the cellmate on your right chimes in. “And I’m Fili,” the other on your left adds.

“Oh.” You blink. “Oh shit, I got you mixed up, huh. You’re the one who’s gonna have that whole thing with Tawny the elf.” You gesture aimlessly with the remains of your third of the loaf in your hands, shaking your head in sympathy.

“Are you talking about Tauriel?” Confusion laces his words. You mentally berate yourself for mixing up yet another character’s name, clearing your throat.

“Right. Tauriel. That’s what I said. It’s just my nickname for her. Like how Legolas is…Lego, and Thranduil is…” Your voice trails off, racking your brains to come up with a suitable nickname.

“Is?” Fili prompts.

“A bitch.” You refuse to elaborate, disdain flitting across your face. Bofur seems to catch it, raising his brows in intrigue.

“Now that we’re acquainted, how is it that a fair maiden like you ended up in this dungeon all alone?” Kili asks.

The more you got to hear him speak, the more you have an inkling as to how Tauriel had fallen for him in the first place. If he were back home, he’d definitely be a girl magnet, that’s for sure.

You let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to sit against the wall, knees slightly bent. “I didn’t exactly make a good impression on the king. Said a few things he didn’t like and mentioned a few things he wanted to keep private, and well,” you gesture sarcastically to the dungeon, “here I am.”

You glance at Thorin’s cell, half expecting him to have his back turned, lost in his brooding thoughts. Instead, piercing eyes meet yours, and it takes a moment to process that he seems genuinely curious about your story.

Now that you’ve got his attention, you’re unsure of what to say. Swallowing thickly, you weigh your options. You could reveal that you know their future now, but it wouldn’t be the best move.

Most of them are still wary of you, and suddenly saying stuff like hey, I know all about your super secret quest that you wanna keep under wraps and I know the dragon’s going to wake up is sure to earn you a one way ticket to Hell, or whatever the equivalent is here.

Before you can say anything however, the atmosphere shifts, a sudden tension in the air. Thorin’s expression which was once indifferent is now wary, eyeing you with newfound suspicion. “It still doesn’t explain what you’re doing all the way out here. You’d have had to pass through Mirkwood and survive.”

Your throat suddenly becomes dry. Flexing your clammy hands, you stare down at your lap. “I don’t know either,” your voice comes out soft, unintentionally revealing the vulnerability beneath the bravado you’d exhibited the night before. “I just woke up in there one day, and one of the elves saved my life. Since then, I’ve been imprisoned here after the audience with the king.”

Thorin's eyes narrow as if he’s searching for something in your expression. “And what is your name, then? Where do you hail from?”

Before you can answer, Balin interjects, his tone light but firm. “Now, now, Thorin, let’s not frighten the lass. She’s been through enough, hasn’t she?” His voice is soothing, like a balm over the tense air that hangs between you and the king.

Thorin's gaze softens slightly. Balin continues, “She’s a visitor in a strange land, after all. No need for an interrogation when we could simply have a conversation instead.”

You take a moment to collect yourself, grateful for Balin’s attempt to ease the tension. Maybe a part of you has been desperate all this time for someone to talk to, otherwise you wouldn’t have given away your name this easily when he asks again.

“I live in… well, a place far south of here. San Francisco, if you’ve ever heard of it.”

Thorin’s brow furrows in confusion. “San Francisco? Is that a town of men?”

“And women,” you correct.

“Of course, women.” Every word that comes out of Kili’s mouth is sarcastic, eliciting an amused laugh from his brother.

“Very funny,” you sigh, tilting your head back and staring at the ceiling. “Tell that to Tauriel tonight.” The only reason you’d remembered that they’d have a whole conversation was because you recall practically swooning at his romance.

Looking back, however, you can’t help but recall how cringey their conversation would be about. Something about his mother’s treasure and the flirting…It makes you cringe.

A moment passes before he speaks again, clearly flustered by the sudden callout. “What do you mean? How do you know if she’s coming or not?”

Before you can answer, footsteps that wander down the corridor halt right outside your door. Watching the guard you'd grown to recognise over the weeks, you wait with bated breath when he brings forth a singular key, unlocking your cell.

“You are to be transferred.” He speaks emotionlessly, eyes flitting over the dirt that stains your cheeks and hands filled with scratches from clumsy attempts at standing. “By his Majesty's orders.”

“Where?” Caution is the only word that encompasses how you feel in the moment, filling every word. Your heart begins to race in your chest, much like the moment before you passed out after Legolas had rescued you from the spider. Why, out of all times would Thranduil give such an order?

As your gaze meets Thorin's, it hits you like a sack of bricks being thrown at your stomach. He didn't want them knowing about the stuff you'd said. Even if his scepticism kept him from believing you, there must've been some part of him that doesn’t want his prisoner overhearing it.

You look up at the guard, an odd sense of calm filling your chest. “Tell Thranduil that if he transfers me, I might just somehow let slip to the dwarves about the things I know.”

It's a pathetic threat, really, but enough to make the guard hesitate. Uncertainty taints his gaze, though his firm hands grab you by the shoulders, throwing you near the exit of your cell.

“Didn't your boss tell you not to harm me?” You spit through gritted teeth. Now that you have confirmation about his intentions, courage bursts forth from an unknown place within you.

You're tired of being thrown about, tired of catering to his whim and reciting events you barely remember like you’re back in school once again, forced to read a passage aloud in class when the teacher caught you sleeping.

Wiping your cheek with a bitter smile, you stumble to your feet. “Just let me take a bath while you relay this to him: I may not remember much, but what I do know will benefit those dwarves and allow doom to befall your people.”

Since when did you start speaking so dramatically?

Maybe it's due to the time (unwillingly) spent with Thranduil that’s changed your vocabulary. The idea makes you grimace, hiding your disdain with a cough.

The guard's eyes narrow slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’m afraid of your threats?” he scoffs, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays his uncertainty. “You’re just a human girl trapped in a dungeon. What could you possibly know that would matter to the likes of us?”

He glances back at Thorin and Balin, who watch him intently. The tension in the air thickens, and for a fleeting moment, the guard seems torn between his duty to Thranduil and the possibility that you might hold some valuable knowledge.

“Fine,” he says finally, his tone grudgingly respectful. “I’ll pass on your message. But don’t think for a second that this will change anything for you. You’re still at his mercy.”

He steps back, still eyeing you warily. A sense of victory fills your grin, but it's quickly dimmed by the appearance of another guard.

The new arrival, tall and broad-shouldered, takes a position directly in front of you, effectively blocking you from view of the dwarves in the cells around you.

“Keep her out of sight,” the first guard mutters under his breath, as if he’s already second-guessing your little threat. The second guard nods and shifts to your left, standing close enough that his form casts a shadow across your face.

Without sparing another glance at the dwarves, the guards flank you, one on either side. You can feel the weight of Thorin’s gaze, curious and intense, following you as you’re led away.

As you’re escorted down the winding corridors once again, reality starts to sink in. You just basically threatened a king, with nothing more than the vague knowledge that remains in your mind.

I’m so fucked, aren’t I?

— — — — — —

The icy water that hits the bare skin of your shoulders makes you shiver involuntarily. Drawing your knees to your chest in the ornate bathtub, you stare at the soapy water that muddles your reflection.

You feel lost.

Days that had turned into weeks feels like an eternity. Has anyone back home even noticed you’ve gone missing? Numb to the freezing cold water being poured over your head once more, you state aimlessly at your hands.

Once as smooth as a baby's arms, the skin of your fingertips are wrinkled and pruny, various tiny scratches on your palm from the tiny rocks that jut out from the floor of your cell. You’d grown used to them being there after the number of times you’ve collapsed from pure exhaustion after your workouts.

Your fingers trace one of the scars absently, following the jagged line like it’s a map that could somehow lead you home. The water laps against your skin, but the chill barely registers anymore. It’s as if you’re only half here, trapped in some distant limbo between two worlds.

The first week, you’d clung to memories of the life you left behind. Your family, your friends, the hum of city life. Now, the details blur. You can hardly remember what your bedroom looked like, or the last meal you shared with someone. Every second in this place feels like another part of you drifting away, sinking into the fog that’s settled over your mind.

With a sigh, you let the water wash over you, hoping it will take with it some of the weariness weighing down your bones. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as cold rivulets stream down your cheeks, mingling with the tears you hadn’t realised were there.

Salt hits your tongue upon licking your lips, carelessly swiping the back of your hand across your closed eyes. “Time’s up.” A female elf notifies coldly, handing you a towel before stepping aside. Even though Thranduil had granted you opportunities to freshen up properly, he still placed someone on guard to ensure you wouldn’t run away.

Squeezing out the excess water from your hair, you press the towel to your body. Once dry, you take the fresh set of clothes from the chair next to you, putting them on. The tunic and pants aren’t as nice or extravagant as the quality the other elves wore, but it’s more than enough to keep you comfortable.

The walk back to your cell is silent, the same guards flanking you until the cell door opens and slams shut behind you once more. You sit back down onto the hard floor with a weary sigh, staring at your empty palm.

Warm clothes, familiar streets, your own bed, your phone… God, what you’d give for even five minutes with that little touchscreen, just to feel something connected to home. Feeling a heavy gaze set in your direction makes you glance up.

Thorin’s hands are clenched around the bars of his cell. Weariness, suspicion, distrust…all of the above taint the air in an almost suffocating manner. “Tell me. What knowledge makes you so certain of your guaranteed safety?”

Standing up with an air of defiance, your composed state quickly crumbles when he tightens his grip. “Not some I’d be willing to spill so easily with a simple question.” Right now, everything that you know is a card in your favour, something that you can leverage.

Whether or not he’d take the bait would be an entirely different thing.

Sure enough, he bites.

“And it is beneficial to us, you mentioned? Yet, Thranduil does not seem to care for your value.”

You cross your arms, trying to match his intensity despite the tight knot forming in your chest. “Maybe because he doesn’t know the half of it. Not everything I’ve got is common knowledge, Thorin Oakenshield .” The name comes out almost mockingly, the false bravado backfiring when you spot the tensing of his jaw.

“Then enlighten me,” he snaps. His voice is low but charged with frustration, eyes narrowing as if trying to strip away every layer of your defiance.

Your lips twist into a humorless smile. “Funny. That would kind of defeat the whole ‘leverage’ thing, wouldn’t it?”

Thorin’s knuckles whiten as his grip tightens. “Leverage? So that’s what this is to you — a game of manipulation? I’ve seen the likes of you before, always spinning words, always hiding behind secrets. What do you gain from this?”

“Because sitting around and doing nothing isn’t an option!” you snap back, pushing yourself up from where you’ve been sitting and stepping closer to the bars of your own cell. “Do you think I asked for any of this? I didn’t. I didn’t choose to be dragged here, or into your mess. But here I am, and like it or not, I’m trying to survive.”

His eyes narrow, suspicion clouding his expression. “And yet, here you stand,” he says coldly. “Unharmed, unbound. Thranduil doesn’t waste cells on anyone he deems unimportant, and you seem perfectly content to keep whatever use you have to him a secret.”

Your fists clench tightly, the sharp edges of your unkempt nails pushing past skin and drawing blood. “Do you think I’m ‘safe’ in here, Thorin?” you retort, your voice rising. “That bastard of an elf king is only tolerating me because he doesn’t know what to do with me. I’m as much a pawn to him as you are.”

“A pawn?” he repeats, his voice low but cutting. “No. Pawns are expendable. Whatever you are, he sees value in you — and until I know what that value is, I have no reason to trust you.”

“And you think I trust you ?” you shoot back, the words leaving your mouth before you can stop them. “You’ve done nothing but glare and be mean to me since the moment we met. You demand answers, but what guarantee do I have that you’ll listen?”

His jaw tightens, his glare hardening. “You want guarantees? There are none. Not in this world, and certainly not in these halls. If you think you can bargain with secrets and survive unscathed, you are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Maybe both,” you snap, your composure unraveling. “But what choice do I have? You think I’m holding back just to irritate you? Everything I know, everything I can’t tell you yet, is the only thing keeping me from being completely useless here. I have to play my cards carefully, bitch, or I lose everything.”

His hands tighten on the bars, his knuckles pale against the cold iron. “Then perhaps you’ve already lost. Trust isn’t earned with half-truths and riddles. If you cannot prove your worth, then why should I risk the safety of my company for you?”

“Because whether you like it or not, you’ll need me!” you fire back, the words tumbling out before you can temper them. “I know things you don’t. Things that could help you. But if you keep treating me like a threat instead of an ally, then maybe I’m wasting my time even trying.”

For a moment, the silence between you is deafening. Thorin’s glare remains fixed on you, unyielding, but there’s a flicker of something (doubt, perhaps?) that crosses his face before his expression hardens once more. The anger fades from your system as fast as it comes, leaving you emotionless and with a sickening lurch in your gut.

“You speak boldly,” he says at last, his tone like ice. “But words alone will not earn my trust. Actions will.”

You exhale sharply, leaning back against the cold stone wall of your cell. “Fine,” you mutter, though the bitterness in your tone is impossible to mask. “Then watch closely, Oakenshield . I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to judge my actions soon enough.”

He falls silent after that, perhaps having exhausted himself with a fight as petty as this. You can’t tell whether to take this as a win or loss on your end, fighting back yet another round of tears that threaten to spill.

Exhaustion eats away at you. You’re tired of trying to tiptoe the line of survival, barely avoiding death. Yet, even though you weren’t exactly the most welcoming of people to him, you still need their help to escape in the end.

With that thought, you fall back into silence, staring at the wall aimlessly while the murmurs of the rest around you resume.

— — — — — —

It’s around a few hours later when everyone else is asleep, a shadow outside your door drawing your attention. Shifting your position, you tilt your head to see Tauriel in front of Kili’s cell.

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” Her voice is gentle, tinged with curiosity.

Oh no , you suppress another annoyed groan, it’s time. Kill me now . Why couldn’t they just let you be depressed in peace?

Kili speaks, his voice low. “It is a talisman; a powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed…”

You stifle a laugh behind your hands, the absurdity bubbling up. Sure, bro. Who wouldn’t want that as an opening line to flirt? You can’t help but smirk at the irritated frown Tauriel sends your way, almost making your laughter spill over.

Tauriel’s sharp gaze locks onto Kili, and you can’t help but press your lips together in an attempt to hide the ball of cringe in your chest at what you can sense coming next. “Or not... depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing. It’s just a token — a rune stone. My mother gave it to me so I would remember my promise.”

“What promise?” Tauriel asks, her interest piqued.

You can practically hear Kili’s casual shrug. “That I would come back to her. She worries; she thinks I’m reckless.”

“Are you?” Tauriel presses, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.

“Nah—” His voice carries a playful lilt as he flips the rune stone lightly in the air, but you hear the slight thud as it skids across the floor, almost tumbling into a dark chasm. You suck in a sharp breath, half-expecting it to disappear forever. But Tauriel, quick as lightning, stops it, glancing at it briefly before handing it back to him.

“Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there.”

“It is Mereth e-nGilith — the Feast of Starlight,” Tauriel replies, her voice softening.

She hesitates, her gaze lingering on Kili. “All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars.”

Killmenowkillmenowkillmenow-

You can hear Kili’s dismissive tone. “I’ve always thought it’s a cold light, remote and far away.”

Please. PLEASE. End me now.

It takes every ounce of strength not to gag. The cringeworthy flirtation unfolding just inches away makes you want to groan, but you know better than to draw attention. So, instead, you sit there, jaw clenched, enduring secondhand embarrassment that feels like it could kill you.

You try to tune them out, focusing on the tray of food that must’ve been placed by the corner of your door by the guard while you were dozing off. Their idea of “dinner” is bleak as ever: coarse bread, a few sad bits of carrot and something that might be green. You break the bread into pieces, hoping that taking it slow will make it somehow taste better.

A bite, a chew, a sip of water. This routine feels like a punishment, but it’s better than starving. You tear off another bit of bread, staring down at it with a sigh. What I wouldn’t give for grilled meat right now. Thanks to the elves and their “nature-loving, we-love-veggies” diet, you'd lost weight, replaced by some muscle from the exercising you'd done.

But then, in a hushed, dreamy voice, Kili says, “I saw a fire-moon once.”

And just like that, the crumb of bread lodges in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth as you cough — loudly. So much for staying quiet. You thump yourself on the chest, trying to calm the wheezing fit, which only draws an annoyed look in your direction.

Desperation fills you the more you cough, spluttering through watery eyes as you try to dislodge the bread. “Are you alright?” You can barely process Kili’s concerned words, tinged with mild embarrassment when he realises that you’ve probably been listening in on their conversation while everyone else is asleep.

Screw his embarrassment, you’ve probably just ruined the whole romantic bit they had going on.

As your wheezing gets louder, you remember a trick you'd seen once from the instructor of your first-aid course. It’d been a mandatory class when you worked as a lifeguard at the public swimming pool, and the instructor was pretty chill.

Now that you think about it, you clearly recall choking on something as well before he helped, and taught you the self-Heimlich. You ball one hand into a fist like he’d shown you, place it just above your navel, and thrust it sharply upward, hoping that it works as well as they say.

Nothing. Your eyes are watering, your chest feels like it's on fire, and that stupid crumb is still lodged in your throat. Great. Truly amazing. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Tauriel watching, arms folded, face as blank as ever. She looks like she’s observing a particularly unremarkable bug flailing on its back.

“Oh, you — absolute menace ,” you choke out in a strangled gasp, more annoyed than desperate now. You always knew she wasn’t your biggest fan, but really? Letting you choke to death over here? You brace yourself, trying again; one last, undignified shove to your diaphragm.

With a spectacular sputter, the offending crumb finally flies out. You slump back down, chest heaving as you pant from the near-death experience you’ve just had. Surprisingly enough, you never thought you’d almost perish this way.

Beheaded? Yes. Speared? Possibly. Choke to death on stale bread? Never crossed your mind.

Kili’s voice drifts from his cell, tinged with genuine concern, "Are you alright?" You manage a weak grunt, swallowing what’s left of your dignity along with the reminder that your interference might come with unexpected consequences.

Tauriel turns and leaves without another word. Glaring at her retreating back, you point your middle finger at her, jabbing it at the air like a madman. A broken laugh falls from your lips when you realise what you’re doing, blinking away the tears that involuntarily form.

Kili’s voice drifts out again, and there’s a nervous, almost embarrassed edge to it now. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh but is also genuinely worried, caught somewhere between sympathy and the awkwardness of knowing you were listening in on his whole starlit, heartwarming moment.

You throw him a thumbs-up you know full well he can’t see, still catching your breath. “Nothing a little willpower couldn’t fix,” you mutter, though you can practically feel his grin through the walls.

“Glad to hear,” he says, then, in a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, “Not the most graceful moment, but I won’t tell.”

You manage a half-smile he can’t see, and he chuckles softly, his laughter almost warm enough to take the edge off Tauriel’s cold indifference.

— — — — — —

It’s been close to a week since the dwarves were imprisoned, and you’d taken to playing a little game with Bofur dubbed as Pass thy Rock. Pure boredom had gotten the better of you, having carelessly fiddled with a stray pebble in your cell.

Bofur had gestured to you to throw it to him, and thus began a rallying of rock tossing you play with Balin, Bofur, and even the brothers that neighbour you. Balin had tried to get Thorin to join, but he simply ignored him.

He’s always either pacing the floor or brooding quietly, with the occasional slamming of his cell door as he demands for an audience with Thranduil. The elf king never granted his request, and ever since that day when you told the guard to pass on the message, he didn’t call on you either.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or fearful of that.

“Don’t drop it too soon,” Fili chuckles, catching the pebble Balin tossed his way. He hands it to you with a grin, the smooth stone cool in your palm as you give it a thoughtful turn. It’s strange to think you’re really here, part of a story you once read about.

“It’s weird,” you find yourself saying, words slipping out before you can stop them, “I never really understood why people liked you all so much...until now.”

Balin hums, amused. “People, you say?”

“I didn’t realise we were that well known across Middle-earth,” Bofur adds with a chuckle.

You force a small smile, masking a pang of uncertainty. If only you could ask Gandalf for advice. Maybe he’d know of a way to get you home. But for now, it’s a waiting game, and with these dwarves for company, a part of you feels...oddly content.

“Guess you’re more famous than you thought,” you say, flicking the stone back to Balin with a smirk. So far, the only ones who know what you look like are the three opposite you, and truthfully? They’re much taller than you expected. Or maybe you’re just short.

Balin catches it with a shake of his head, tossing it to Kili’s cell. You’re waiting for the pebble to be tossed once more, only to hear it clatter to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet cell. A sharp hiss of pain echoes, and judging by the look on Balin’s face, it’s not hard to piece together what’s happened.

“ Shit , are you okay?” You curse, fingers gripping the cell door tightly. Worry fills you, an unexpected consequence of the silly game you’d come up with. With the additional fact that you’ve no idea when they actually make their escape, panic flits through your body at the possibility it could be at any minute, even now.

“I’m fine.” His breathy chuckle does nothing to shake off the unease that gnaws at your gut. Relief is fleeting, and it dawns on you that this isn’t a world where doctors are aplenty, nor medicine or basic hygiene.

“Give me your hand.”

You can sense his amusement even through the bars. “How, exactly? We aren’t really in a position where I can do so.”

“Just — stick it out or something,” you say, exasperated. He must realise you’re not joking, because he dutifully follows your instructions. His arm stretches out past the gap in the cell door bars, the closest one to you.

You observe the grime beneath his nails and the faint tremor in his fingers, along with the multiple scars on his arm. “You really need to clean up,” you mutter, sarcasm still pulling through even in this situation.

“I could with your help.” His teasing draws out a sarcastic laugh from you. “But it’s really nothing. I’ve gone through worse.”

“He’s right, we’ve all got the scars to show for it,” Fili calls out. Thorin eyes Kili with concern, though he chooses to simply observe.

You reach out cautiously, your fingers brushing against his as you inspect the makeshift bandage he’s tied in a loose knot. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself properly,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

He flinches at your touch, only to allow you to continue. “Your first aid is horrible,” you remark, sitting down and pulling away from him. His arm remains there for a moment, before withdrawing back into his cell.

“Here, since we can’t see each other, follow what Balin does.” The dwarf mentioned tilts his head in intrigue, inching closer to the cell door. “Grab a piece of cloth, or find one that’s relatively clean. It can be from your shirt or something.”

A loud rip echoes through the dungeon, and you guess he’s already found one. “Alright, focus,” you say, starting to slowly show Balin your movements so he can mirror it back to Kili. “Once you’ve got your cloth, wrap it around the wound. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight— you want to stop the bleeding without cutting off circulation.”

“Got it,” Kili replies, his tone serious now as he carefully follows your instructions. “What’s next?”

“Now, start by layering the cloth over the wound, but don’t just go in circles. You want to cover it from the centre outwards. Think of it like a spiral, but keep it neat,” you instruct, trying to visualise the process in your mind as you speak. “If you have any leftover fabric, you can use it to tie off the bandage.”

“Leftover fabric? You mean, like the remnants of my shirt?” Kili quips, though you can hear the focus in his voice.

“Whatever works for you bro,” you shrug. “I'm not gonna be the one with the potential infection.”

“After you’ve wrapped it, make a knot to secure it, but not so tight that it restricts your movement. You don’t want to lose feeling in your hand,” you add. “And if you can, check to see if it’s bleeding through. If it is, you’ll need to add another layer on top, but don’t remove the first one.”

“Okay, I’ll keep an eye on it,” Kili assures you, his voice steady despite the pain he’s likely enduring. “I’m tying it off now… it’s a bit tricky.”

“Being injured tends to do that to you.” That draws chuckles from the dwarves around. “Show me what it looks like now so I can check.”

He sticks his hand out once more, the makeshift bandage tied almost perfectly according to your instructions. “That’s…not bad.” You raise your brows, genuinely impressed.

He wiggles his fingers as if to show off. “Comes with the territory. Handling weapons all my life, after all. Bandaging? Piece of cake.”

Fili pipes up from the other side, snickering, “He’s more used to wrapping himself around trouble, to be fair.”

The cell falls silent again as your thoughts spiral inward, a wave of fear creeping in. The earlier laughs fade, leaving only the loud reminder of your isolation here. The foreignness, the absence of anyone from your world, from home. Your fingers start picking at the skin around your nails, words slipping out before you even realise.

“What if they don’t remember me?”

It’s muttered more to yourself than to anyone else. The vulnerability in your voice draws the attention of the dwarves, especially Thorin, whose eyes narrow slightly.

Fili speaks first. “Who? Your people?” Raising your gaze, you stare at the wall bordering his.

Great. Talking to dwarves as makeshift therapists now? Rock bottom, here I come.

“I don’t even know if I have anyone looking for me. I just... I don’t belong here.” The weight of your words hangs in the air, and you can feel the dwarves' gazes on you. It feels understanding, but a certain wariness remains.

Balin’s voice breaks the tension, kind and encouraging. “If the opportunity comes, lass, we’ll help you escape alongside us. No need to fret on that.”

You try to give him a smile in return, but Thorin’s scoff from his cell wipes it right off your face. He shifts, arms crossing over his chest as he sizes you up with a disdainful look. “She’ll only slow us down. A human female, no less. She wouldn’t last a day on our journey, with no weapon, no training, and no resilience to speak of. We’ve got more than enough to deal with without—”

That bastard.

A hot rush of anger flares up, the thinned frays of patience for all the treatment you've endured here finally snapping. “Oh, don’t worry,” you snap, tone dripping with sarcasm. “I wouldn’t want to drag you all down.”

His condescension feels like a weight, pressing against you until the words spill out before you can stop them. “Besides, if I wanted to survive, I’d have just stuck with Bilbo. He practically saved your asses from being roasted on a spit by those trolls. You’d have been—”

A cold, shocked silence follows. Your mind stalls as you realise you’ve said it — let out a detail so specific that the absurdity of it sinks in, even for you.

Thorin’s eyes narrow, his piercing gaze fixed on you with a new sharpness that unsettles you to your bones. “And how, exactly,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “would you know of that?”

There’s an intensity in his stare now that makes your pulse skip. Every dwarf in the dungeon has gone quiet, their eyes turning between you and Thorin. Balin’s thoughtful gaze seems to scrutinise you even deeper than his.

Cheeks burning, you swallow hard, the weight of what you’ve said bearing down. Excuses pile up in your throat but stick there, choking you. You could say it was a guess, a wild shot in the dark, but something about Thorin’s intense stare tells you he won’t be easily convinced.

Balin clears his throat, an attempt to ease the tension. “Perhaps it’s mere coincidence, Thorin. Maybe she simply overheard tales from…from somewhere. These stories travel quickly among folk these days, I’d wager.”

But Thorin’s focus is relentless, his gaze never shifting from you. “Not tales this specific,” he says slowly, his voice growing colder with each word. “You know more than you’re letting on.”

The irritation from earlier has drained, leaving only a quiet dread. You drop your gaze, picking at the edge of the cell bars as though they hold answers. “Maybe I do,” you mutter, your voice softer but just as defiant. “Maybe I know plenty about what you’re up against. Maybe I know things that would make your head spin.”

The challenge in your tone has clearly gotten under his skin. He takes a step closer to his own cell bars, fingers curling around the metal as he watches you with a dark, unreadable expression. “Then speak plainly. What are you hiding? And why?”

Your hand grips the bar tighter, as if that might ground you. “Why should I?” you say, your tone icy. “The last thing I need is to be explaining myself to someone who’d sooner leave me behind than listen.”

A flicker of something unreadable crosses Thorin’s face. Maybe surprise, maybe irritation. But before he can respond, Balin interrupts, a careful look in his eye. “Lass,” he begins gently, his voice coaxing, “if there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ us, know that we mean you no harm. But it’s only fair we know what we’re dealing with, for all our sakes.”

You breathe out slowly, watching their faces — some concerned, some suspicious. Thorin, though, is guarded, like he’s ready to block out whatever you might say next, no matter what it is.

So you smile. A faint, tired one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m not your enemy, Balin. If that’s what you’re wondering. I…don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

Kili speaks up, the curiosity in his voice soft but evident. “So… you’re on our side?”

You pause, your eyes flicking to the floor outside his cell. “I never said that either.”

— — — — — —

Taglist: @chennqingg <3

#Kili x female reader #kili x female reader #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #kili x you #kili x y/n #kili durin #kili x reader

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korkietism · 1 year ago

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Red and Mei bathing together after a harsh battle. It starts awkward but then mei is her playful silly self and she wants to be able to touch reds hair. Though he insists on washing her hair first (set the playing field) and she loves it. It’s a tender moment and is safe and loving. They care each other.

#battles are grimy and they’re both accident prone #mei because she’s impulsive and red because she has no self preservation #they tend to each other’s injuries #Redson is super overprotective of her but in a weird way #they protect each other in battle #red warms up the bath with his fire and mei is like :D!!!! omg #they calm each other down through hard times #when mei is scared and unsure of herself and generally feeling hopeless red is their #and he knows her well enough to comfort her in his own weird way #dragonfruit shipping #lmk redson #lmk dragonfruit #mei lmk #lmk #dragonfruitshipping

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lovesculprit · 2 months ago

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Ft. Ayato ノ Alhaitham ノ Wanderer ノ Childe ノ Wriothesley ノ Neuvillette

sum: things you do that unintentionally turn them on. wc: 14k - roughly 2k - 2.5k per part

contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in alhaitham's), oral (reader givingノreceiving), fingering, come swallowing, handjob in wrio's, mentions of pregnancy/breeding kink in ayato's, out in the open for wanderer's but not caught, 69 in neuvillette's + he carries you

a/n: i liked this until i didn't, which is awkward :')

જ⁀ when he loses to you in a debate - 2k

It felt like the hundredth time that day you’d torn his argument to pieces, your words sharp and precisely calculated. Alhaitham leaned back, eyeing you with a narrowed gaze as he re-evaluated every point you made, searching desperately for a flaw. But there wasn’t one—and that infuriated him.

He was accustomed to being the sharpest mind in the room, to dissecting others’ logic with ease. Yet here you were, dismantling his points without breaking a sweat, meeting him step for step. It should have annoyed him beyond measure. And yet…

His pulse quickened, and he could feel his focus drifting, thoughts derailing as you delivered yet another rebuttal with a slight, victorious curl of your lips. There was a fire in your eyes, a self-assurance that both irritated and exhilarated him, pulling him into an awareness that had little to do with intellectual sparring.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering over you, from the determined glint in your eyes to the way your lips formed around each sharp, defiant word. His jaw clenched, and he felt that familiar frustration morph into something else, something darker, something primal.

“Nothing to say?” you prodded with a smug smile, savouring your apparent win. “That’s not like you, Alhaitham.”

His eyes darkened. For a second, the composed mask slipped, and the heat simmering beneath flickered to the surface. “I could argue,” he replied, his voice low, dangerously calm. “But it seems you’re enjoying this far too much.”

The bitterness in his voice was laced with something else, something unwilling—an almost grudging respect. You’d pushed him to the edge, stripped him of his usual control, and a part of him both resented and admired your nerve. But there was no denying it: you were driving him insane.

A charged silence hung between you, and he felt it—the heat radiating from your body, the steady rhythm of your breath, so close he could feel it. His own thoughts had scattered, leaving him with nothing but the ache of desire he was no longer able to ignore. Alhaitham stood taller, his expression hardening as his gaze settled on your lips, then drifted back to meet your eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” he murmured, his voice roughened by tension. But the bite was gone from his tone, replaced by something unspoken, something magnetic.

Suddenly, he moved, his body pressing you back against the bookshelf, his hands bracketing you, and every other word disappeared from his mind. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper in your ear. “You think you’re so clever,” he said, his fingers tracing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, “always knowing just what to say to get under my skin.”

You felt his other hand slide down, coming to rest on your hip as he drew you closer. Every inch of his lean frame was now flush against you, his erection pressing insistently through the layers between you. The last of his restraint was slipping, replaced by a raw intensity that left no space for pretences.

His lips grazed along your neck, each touch sending a shudder of heat through you as his breath came hot and uneven while he slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers trailing possessively over skin that was bare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting against your neck. “Pushing me, daring me. Now, let’s see just how far you can go.”

In a single, bruising kiss, he claimed your mouth, his hands now exploring the lines and curves of your body with a feverish hunger, mapping out every reaction he’d managed to draw from you. His kiss was fierce and commanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he tasted every inch of you, unravelling the last threads of your composure.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the bookshelf. A few books tumbled from the shelves, forgotten in the heat building between you as he leaned in, his mouth brushing against your shoulder, his voice low and dark. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered, rough with need, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt, fingertips trailing against your skin. “All this time, getting under my skin… has it been driving you mad, too?”

Alhaitham’s hand slipped beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the warmth radiating through the thin damp fabric of your underwear. A quiet groan escapes him, a sound rough with desire, as he felt your wetness, his own anticipation building with every heartbeat.

"You're so fucking wet for me already," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. His fingers slip under the fabric, sliding through your slick folds. "All this time, you've been getting off on our arguments, haven't you? Getting yourself all worked up, imagining me bending you over and fucking you in my office."

He circles your clit with his thumb, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he works you over with his skilled fingers.

"I bet you've touched yourself thinking about me," he continues, his words filthy and raw. "Imagined my cock splitting you open, making you moan my name.”

“Shut up, you talk too much-” you mumble.

Alhaitham chuckles darkly at your mumbled plea, his fingers still working between your legs. "No no-. I wanna hear you say it. Tell me how much you need my cock."

He thrusts two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes your knees weak. His thumb rubs tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come on, angel. Use that clever tongue of yours for something other than arguing with me. Beg for it."

His other hand slides up under your shirt, roughly palming one of your breasts. He pinches your nipple, a gasp falling from your lips.

"Or maybe you'd rather I stop altogether? Leave you here, dripping and desperate, with nothing to satisfy you but your own fingers?"

He slows his movements, letting the threat hang in the air. Your hips buck back against him, seeking more friction, more pressure. You're so close, and yet he holds all the power to send you over.

"What's it gonna be, sweetheart? You gonna be a good girl and tell me what you want?”

"Please, need it-"

Alhaitham's fingers still inside you at your breathy plea, your desperate words sending a thrill through him. He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, "There we go.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly, teasingly. You whimper at the loss, your hips pushing back, seeking to be filled again.

"Ah ah," he tuts, his hand resting on your ass. "Patience. You'll get what you need.”

He steps back, leaving you bent over the bookshelf and aching for him. He undoes his belt, along with the zipper. He approaches his desk drawer, rummaging through before he settles back behind you. You hear the crinkle of foil, the snap of latex, and then the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

Alhaitham runs it along your slit, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. He drags the tip through your folds, covering himself in your sticky arousal.

"Look at you, wanting it so badly," he taunts, his voice a low growl.

He pushes forward, just the tip breaching you, stretching you open. Your walls flutter around him, trying to draw him in deeper.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He chuckles darkly, slowly sinking into your heat inch by excruciating inch.

He bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your ass. He pauses, letting you adjust to his size, savouring the feel of your tight walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips.

He starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust deliberate and purposeful. He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

"That's it-" he encourages, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the good girl you are."

His hand snakes around to your front, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

Alhaitham sets a deep, punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each thrust. The bookcase rocks under the force of his movements; books tumble to the floor, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He leans over you, a hand closing on your hip as his cock drives into you relentlessly, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl.

He picks up the pace, fucking into you harder and faster now, chasing his own release. Skin slapping against skin fills the room with an obscene sound, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pounds into you, lost in the feeling of your hot, wet walls clenching around him.

His fingers closed tight around your hips, pinning you down as he thrust with a fervour that made you cling to the bookshelf. “Fuck, I’m close-" he groaned, his voice thick with restraint. And just when you thought he’d let go, he pulled away, leaving you empty and aching, the heat between you simmering in the air.

Before you could protest, he spun you around, lifting you onto the edge of his desk. He pushes your legs apart, settling between your thighs once more.

"Wanna’ see your face," he growls, his voice rough with desire.

He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock. Then, with one swift thrust, he's buried inside you again, filling you completely.

He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with wild abandon. The desk creaked beneath you with each powerful thrust, papers slipping off in a messy cascade to the floor.

He pressed into you, his weight grounding you in place as his lips found yours in a fierce, consuming kiss that left you breathless. When he finally broke away, his mouth traced a heated path down your neck, lips and teeth grazing over your skin, each touch both a promise and a tease. His hips never stop moving, pounding into you with a frenzied energy.

"Come for me," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. "I want to feel you come apart on my cock."

He reaches between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs in tight, fast circles, the added stimulation sending you spiralling towards the edge.

Your walls start to flutter, Your breaths are fast and uneven, your body trembling, teetering just on the edge. “Come on,” he murmured, his movements growing less controlled, more desperate, as he felt his own resolve slipping. “Let go… let me feel you.”

With a final, brutal thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure washing through your body. You cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as you ride out the aftershocks.

Alhaitham follows shortly after, his cock pulsing inside you as he finds his own release. He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groan against your skin.

You both collapse onto the desk, panting and spent, bodies still joined in the aftermath of your passionate encounter.

"Maybe we should have debates more often...." you joke breathlessly.

"Only if it ends like this." he mutters tirelessly as he leans in, his lips meeting yours.

જ⁀ when you argue with him - 2.5k

“Do you ever think before you act?” you snapped, standing so close to Childe that the heat radiating from him matched your own.

His jaw tightened, and he leaned in, voice rising to meet yours. “Don’t lecture me about thinking ahead! If you’d just trusted me for once, we wouldn’t even need a backup plan!”

“Trust you?” You let out a harsh, bitter laugh, meeting his glare without flinching. “How am I supposed to trust you when you treat this like some game? People could have gotten hurt, Childe! This isn’t just your reckless thrill.”

He scoffed, but something in his eyes softened, though it was quickly swallowed by the intensity burning there. "You think I take this lightly? It’s so damn frustrating to have you question every move I make."

You took another step closer, your heart beating faster as the air between you grew heavier, alive with unspoken tension. "I question your moves because they're reckless, Childe. Because you act like you're the only one who matters!

"That's what you think?" he growled, his voice was low and furious. "That I don't care what happens to the people around me?"

For a moment, there was something raw in his eyes—open and wounded—but you pushed the feeling aside, refusing to let him derail you. "You say you care, but you're so caught up in your ego that you can't see past your own reflection.".

"Ego?" He snorted, but his eyes were wild, almost electric, and he leaned in closer to you, the space between you evaporating. "You're one to talk! Acting like you know everything, like I can't do a single thing out there without you hovering over my shoulder."

“Because I have to! If I don’t, you’d—” Your voice wavered as you became acutely aware of just how close he was, his face inches from yours. His eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for the faintest beat before they snapped back to meet yours.

And that’s when it struck you—his cheeks were flushed, his gaze burning with something more than just anger. The tension between you wasn’t just frustration; there was a heat simmering beneath it all, sparking like a fuse, and you could feel it as clearly as the breath between you.

This wasn’t just anger. The challenge, the fight, you standing toe-to-toe with him—it had him caught up in something else entirely.

You sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily thrown. “Are… are you enjoying this?” you asked, voice barely a whisper, incredulous.

Childe didn't even try to hide it; his eyes softened, and a smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his voice low and charged. "Maybe I am," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "Didn't think you had this much fire in you.".

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “This isn’t funny, Childe. I’m trying to get through to you, and you’re—”

“Oh, I’m listening,” he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, rougher. “But I can’t help it if seeing you like this… gets me a little fired up.” His eyes gleamed with a challenging spark, as if daring you to push him further, to keep pushing back.

Your breath caught, but you refused to back down, even as you felt the air between you grow thick with an intensity that was no longer just anger. “You’re… unbelievable,” you managed, your voice wavering slightly.

Childe’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he took that final, daring step closer. His hand found your jaw, fingers brushing your skin with a touch that was both gentle and possessive. For a heartbeat, the only sound between you was your own uneven breathing as his gaze flicked once more to your lips, lingering there.

“I’m unbelievable, am I?” he murmured, voice barely a breath, but carrying enough intensity to make your pulse race even faster.

"I-"

Before you could respond, his lips met yours with a raw intensity that sent a jolt through you. The kiss was anything but restrained—urgent, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long and was finally letting go. His fingers tightened around your jaw, his other hand slipping to your waist to pull you in close, eliminating any trace of space between you.

You matched his intensity, pressing back just as fiercely, your hands finding his shoulders and gripping tight as you poured every ounce of pent-up frustration, tension, and maybe something more into the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into nothing as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that left you breathless.

Childe groaned low in his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He broke away from your mouth just long enough to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "You drive me crazy," he growled against your throat, his voice rough with need. "Always questioning me, always pushing back. It's fucking hot."

His hands glide along your sides, lifting your shirt in one fluid motion and discarding it as his eyes roamed over you, dark with desire. He paused just briefly, letting the sight of you linger, before his mouth found you again, tracing the curves of your chest with lips and tongue, his fingers deftly working to free you from your bra.

You arched into his touch, head falling back as pleasure sparked through you. Your own hands worked frantically at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against yours. "Ajax," you gasped out, your voice breathy and wanton. "Please..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Please what?" he murmured, nipping at your collarbone. "I wanna hear you say it."

You swallowed hard, your mind hazy with desire. "I want you," you managed, your voice trembling. "I want you to fuck me, please-”

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against his already hard cock. You could feel the heat of him even through the layers of clothing that still separated you.

"I need you," Childe rasped against your lips, his hips rolling against yours in a slow grind. "Right fucking now."

He guided you back until your legs hit the edge of the bed, the heated kiss unbroken. He slid down on top of you in one fluid motion, pressing you down onto the bed as he moved with you, pinning you under him, his eyes dark and intense as he took you in. His chest rose and fell with a few heavy breaths as he steadied himself.

"This is your last chance to back out," he whispered, his voice low and rough-edged. "Because once I start, I won't stop until I've had every bit of you."

Your eyes met his, soft and misty with anticipation as the unspoken answer hung in the charged space between you.

"I don't want you to stop," you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into another kiss. "I want everything you've got-"

With a feral growl, his hands made quick work of the remaining barriers between you. Childe's fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your trousers and panties down in one swift motion. His eyes darkened as he drank in the sight of you, splayed out beneath him, completely bare. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

He settled between your thighs, the heat of his bare skin against your most sensitive parts making you gasp. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to where you needed him most.

"Please," you whimpered, arching your hips in search of more friction. "Ajax, I need-"

“Shh,” he whispered, brushing a finger softly over your lips. "Just relax… let me take care of you." His voice was just a lulling hum, low and comforting.

He lowered his head and traced a slow, tantalising path up your inner thigh with his tongue, each inch a deliberate tease. A shiver coursed through you, your fingers clutching the sheets as he inched closer to your core, building anticipation with every lingering touch.

When his tongue finally ran along your slit, you cried out, your back bowing off the bed. His tongue swirled around your clit, lapping at you with a hunger that bordered on feral. Two fingers pushed inside you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way.

"That's it, let me hear you," Childe growled against your skin, his words sending vibrations straight to your core. "Fuck, you taste so good. I could eat this sweet little pussy all day."

He worked you relentlessly, his fingers curling inside you just right, his tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit. It wasn’t long before you were teetering on the edge, thighs trembling around him as your fingers tangled desperately in his hair.

His mouth moved over you with a hungry intensity, each slow, deliberate stroke of his tongue sending sparks racing through you, making your hips roll instinctively to meet his every movement.

Your arousal slicked his lips and chin as he held you close, his fingers working in tandem, pressing into you and curling just right to reach that deep, electric spot that made you lose all sense of restraint. The pleasure built steadily, his every touch pushing you closer to the point of no return, your entire body drawn taut in anticipation.

The obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy, the squelch of his fingers inside you, the filthy slurps and moans he made as he ate you out - it was almost too much to bear.

He groaned against your folds, the vibrations making you buck and writhe beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, pinning you in place as he kept up his relentless assault on your clit.

Your thighs were shaking violently as your muscles tensed and coiled tight with your approaching orgasm. Childe sensed it too, doubling his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit as he finger-fucked you harder, faster.

"Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice muffled against your soaked folds. "Let me feel you come undone on my tongue. Fucking soak me, baby.”

With a hoarse cry, you shattered, your body convulsing as wave upon wave of searing pleasure washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, your arousal slick on his chin, dripping down onto the sheets beneath him.

Childe groaned low in his throat, lapping at your release as if it were the finest ambrosia, wringing the last drop of pleasure from your body until you lay still beneath him.

He slowly pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your essence. He licked his lips, savouring your taste with a satisfied hum. “Tastes so fucking sweet.”

He crawled up your body, settling between your thighs once more. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing insistently against your entrance, making you clench with anticipation.

"I need to be inside you," Childe growled, his voice strained with need. "Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing my cock."

He reached down, gripping himself and rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick folds. You whimpered, your hips canting up, trying to force him inside.

"Please," you begged, your voice wrecked and desperate. "Ajax, I need you. Need you so fucking bad."

With a low groan, he pushed forward, sinking into your wet heat inch by inch. You both moaned at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Childe panted, his hips rolling in shallow thrusts as he let you adjust to him. "Feels so good, baby. So fucking good."

Once you'd both adjusted, he started to move, pulling out slowly before snapping his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you. He set a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that made the bed creak and your body jolt with each powerful thrust.

Childe's hands gripped your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your chest, folding you nearly in half. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper inside you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a brutal pace. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch of my cock."

You could do no more than moan incoherently, hands scrabbling at the sheets. The feeling of him so deep inside you, stretching you, filling you, was almost too much to bear.

"You like that, don't you?" Childe panted, strained with exertion.

"Like having me so fucking deep inside you." He punctuated each filthy word with a sharp snap of his hips, driving into you so hard that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down around him like a vice.

"Shit, baby," Childe growled, his rhythm faltering as he fought to hold back his own release. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Gonna- gonna make me cum if you keep doing that."

But you were too far gone to care, too lost in the overwhelming pleasure consuming you. All you could do was hold on for dear life as Childe fucked you through your orgasm, his cock hitting your deepest spots with every thrust, pushing you higher and higher until you were sure you'd black out from the intensity of it all.

Childe's thrusts grew erratic, his fingers digging into your ankles as he chased his own release.

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he found his peak. You felt the hot rush of his cum painting your walls, claiming you from the inside out.

A low, shuddering groan escaped him as the intensity of his release rippled through his body. And for a long, quiet moment, neither of you moved, basking in the dying warmth and soft haze of satisfaction.

The weight of Childe pressed against you as he lowered your legs back down. His warm breath on your shoulder as he stayed inside of you. He slowly lifted his head, eyes locked with yours. For that one moment, there was something soft in his eyes—something almost tender—the softness he mostly protected.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he muttered, his voice low and warm.

A smile played at your lips as you looked up at him, quiet happiness filling your eyes. "Not too bad yourself," you teased, reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek, your thumb tracing a light path along his jawline. "For a reckless, ego-driven, pain in the ass."

Childe laughed, leaning into your touch with a shameless grin. "I think you meant to say charming, irresistible, and exceptionally skilled in bed," he corrected, a roguish glint firing in his eyes.

"Yeah, maybe that too," you whispered, pulling him into a soft, dragged-out kiss, basking in the wordless connection that ran between you.

જ⁀ seeing you do domestic things - 2.4k

Ayato leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, his eyes focused on you as you worked. The soft light of the afternoon filtered through the window, casting a warm glow on the scene in front of him. You were humming quietly to yourself as you stirred the pot on the hob, moving with a quiet grace that Ayato could only admire.

It wasn’t just the domesticity of the moment that caught his attention—it was the way you made it look so effortless, the way you fit so naturally into his life, his home. You were already making the space feel like it was your joint space, your presence breathing life into the place, and Ayato found himself growing more and more captivated by the thought of this becoming a permanent reality.

You glanced up, catching him watching you, and a teasing smile tugged at your lips. "Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you going to help?"

Ayato stepped forward, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’d rather just watch you, honestly,” he said smoothly, his voice thick with desire. “It’s hard to look away when you make something as simple as cooking look so… irresistible.”

You laughed lightly, but his eyes stayed locked on you, the intensity of his gaze deepening with each passing second. You continued with your work, though something about the way he was looking at you made your pulse quicken.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, still teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity in your voice.

He moved closer, placing his hands casually on the counter beside you, his body barely separate from yours. “You,” he said bluntly, his voice dropping lower. “Watching you cook, has me thinking about our future together… it’s making it impossible to focus.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “A future together?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat at the implication. “Like what?”

Ayato’s lips curled into a confident, knowing smile. “Like this. You, in our home, doing all these wifely things, making our space feel warm and lived-in…” His voice was laced with a quiet heat as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear. “I can already see it—us—with kids running around, your laugh filling the halls, hearing the sound of little feet chasing each other.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, and you froze for a moment, feeling his hands settle on your waist, pulling you closer. His chest pressed against yours, and you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm that matched the rapid pace of your own.

Ayato didn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips captured yours in a kiss—slow at first, but quickly turning deeper as his hands slid around to your back, pulling you even closer. His desire was palpable, every movement of his hands speaking louder than his words ever could.

When he pulled back, he was breathing heavily, his hands still on you as he looked down at you with a knowing smile. “I can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hoarse. “Seeing you like this, talking about our future… I want it, more than anything. And I want you... right here, right now.” His eyes darkened with desire. “I can’t stop thinking about it—thinking about you.”

You shivered at his words, your chest tightening with anticipation. His boldness, his forwardness—it wasn’t something you were used to seeing from Ayato, and yet in this moment, it made your heart race. You felt the weight of his desire, the rawness of it, and it ignited something in you as well.

He didn’t wait for you to respond, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands sliding along the curves of your body with a sense of urgency. “You’re going to drive me mad if you keep looking at me like that,” he growled. “I can already picture it, I want it all.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, and without thinking, you pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely, giving into the heat between you. His hands slid to your hips, pulling you up against him as his desire burned hotter.

And as he kissed you with an intensity you hadn’t expected, you realised that this wasn’t just about the moment. It was about the future you were both already imagining together—the family, the home, the life—and Ayato was determined to make that future as real as possible.

The thought of a life together, full of passion, warmth, and the sound of children’s laughter echoing through your shared home, consumed him completely. And as he held you close, he knew he would stop at nothing to make that future a reality.

Ayato's hands slide down your sides, his touch igniting sparks wherever he touches. He breaks the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looks down at you with hooded eyes. "I want you so badly," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands find the hem of your shirt, and he starts to tug it upward, his fingers skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach. You shiver at his touch, arching into him as he leans down to trail kisses along your collarbone.

"I can't wait to see you round with my child," he breathes against your skin, his hand splaying across your belly. "To know that I put them there."

He walks you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and with a swift movement, he lifts you onto it, stepping between your parted thighs.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," he promises, his hands already working to remove your clothes.

The intensity of Ayato's desire is palpable as he stands between your parted thighs, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that takes your breath away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your skin as he slowly strips away your clothing, revealing more and more of you to his appreciative eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "So perfect."

His fingers trace the curve of your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp, arching into him, craving more of his touch. He obliges, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His other hand slides down your stomach.

Ayato's hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp at the contact, your hips lifting instinctively seeking more of his touch. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"So eager," he teases, his fingers slipping lower, brushing against your slick folds.

He circles your clit with a feather-light touch, making you whimper and squirm beneath him. Your head falls back against the counter, your eyes fluttering closed as you lose yourself to the sensation of his skilled fingers.

"Please," you breathe, your hips rolling against his hand, seeking more friction.

Ayato obliges, sliding a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out of your pussy. Your inner walls clench around him, drawing him deeper.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encourages, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. "Let me make you feel good."

His fingers curl inside you, hitting that sensitive spot that makes your toes curl. You cry out, your grip on his hair tightening as pleasure courses through your veins.

"You're so tight," he groans, his own arousal evident in the way his hips grind against yours. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for what's to come. Your body trembles on the edge of release, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Ayato's fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips buck against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure. You can feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"That's it, beautiful," Ayato muses, "Look so pretty like this-"

His words, combined with the skillful movements of his fingers, are enough to send you over the edge. Your body tenses, your back arching off the counter as waves of pleasure crash over you. You cry out, your inner walls clenching around Ayato's fingers as you ride out the intense sensations.

Ayato doesn't stop, continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. As you start to come down from your high, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," he murmurs, licking your essence from his fingers. "I could do that forever if you let me."

Before you can catch your breath, he's removing his own clothes, not taking long to reveal his hard, throbbing cock.

"Need to be inside you-" he groans, his hands gripping your hips. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

He steps between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your slick entrance.

Ayato slowly pushes into you, his cock stretching you deliciously. You moan at the sensation of being filled, your walls clenching around him. He groans at the tight heat enveloping him, his hips pressing forward until he's fully seated inside you.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathes, his forehead resting against yours. "So perfect."

He starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, stoking the embers of your desire once more.

Ayato's movements are slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to bring you maximum pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing every curve and dip as he loses himself in the feel of you.

"I love you," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

His words, coupled with the tender way he makes love to you, bring tears to your eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel every inch of him.

"Show me," you whisper, your hands tangling in his hair. "Show me how much you love me."

Ayato's response is to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he continues to move within you. The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you're sharing.

"I'll always love you," he vows against your lips. "Always."

As he speaks, his thrusts become more urgent, more passionate. You can feel the coil of pleasure building once more in your core, your body responding to his every move.

Ayato's thrusts become more urgent, more passionate, as he loses himself in the feel of you. But even as he chases his own pleasure, his mind is filled with thoughts of the future, of the life you'll build together.

"I want this," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want us, together, forever. I want to wake up next to you every morning, to come home to you every night."

His hand slides down to your stomach, pressing gently against the soft skin. "I want to see you round with my child, to watch you grow and change as our family grows."

The thought sends a shiver of excitement through you, and you cling to him tighter, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. “I want that too-”

Ayato's response is a low growl, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he pounds into you, chasing his release.

Ayato's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, as he chases his climax. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

"I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I want to fill you up, to mark you as mine."

His words send a thrill through you, and you clench around him, urging him on. "Yes," you gasp, "Please-"

With a final, powerful thrust, Ayato buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. The sensation of his hot release triggers your own orgasm.

As Ayato empties himself inside you, your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for every last drop. Your body trembles with the force of your orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your juices gush around his length, coating his shaft and dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, yes," Ayato groans, his hips twitching as he feels your release, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out the waves of pleasure. "Take it all, baby. Take all of me."

He continues to thrust shallowly, drawing out your climax, his own cock pulsing with aftershocks. Your inner walls ripple around him, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the intense sensations.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and appreciative. "So perfect, like you were made for me, weren't you?"

As the last waves of pleasure subside, Ayato leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you as his own. You moan into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss is slow and sensual, a reflection of the intimate act you've just shared. Ayato's hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, your skin still slick with sweat.

"I love you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

You smile against his mouth, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you too," you whisper back. "Always and forever."

જ⁀ when you take care of him - 1.9k

Wriothesley leaned back against the pillows, a picture of reluctant vulnerability—a rare sight, his usual sharp confidence dulled by the grip of a stubborn cold. He’d fought tooth and nail to convince you he didn’t need anyone fussing over him, but his protests had crumbled under your firm insistence. So now, he was stuck with you at his bedside, his gruff pride no match for your stubborn resolve.

You place a tray alongside him, holding soup, and a few other remedies. "Alright, let's get you sorted," you said, scooping up a spoonful of broth and extending it toward him.

He looked back at you, his brow furrowed with stubborn defiance, but you only hitched an eyebrow in silence.

He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and grumbled under his breath before he leaned forward and took the spoonful, holding it longer in his mouth than was really necessary, his eyes latched onto yours. His cheeks already flushed with fever, coloured a fraction darker, but he acted like he didn't notice.

"See? That wasn't so bad," you teased your voice soft as you reached up to sweep a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

His jaw clenched, and he cleared his throat, looking away as if the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating. Something about the way you touched him-so gentle, so deliberate-had him feeling unstably off-balance.

His pulse raced, a heat coiling low in his stomach, that left an evident reaction under the blankets that he desperately tried to will away. Mortified by his reaction, he reached for a cushion and shifted it onto his lap, with forced nonchalance.

"You don't need to babysit me," he grumbled, his voice hoarse, and he refused to meet your gaze. "I'll be alright. You've got much more important things to attend to."

“Oh, nice try,” you replied with a wry smile, holding another spoonful toward him. “You’re stuck with me until I’m satisfied that you’re actually resting. So stop pretending you’re not secretly grateful.”

His lips parted, but whatever retort he’d planned died on his tongue as he met your gaze. There was no teasing in your eyes now, only a quiet tenderness that made his chest tighten. You cared-truly-and it was overwhelming in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Why are you doing all this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, giving away a flicker of something unguarded.

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the skin that flushed there. "Because you deserve it," you said, so simply. "Even if you're too stubborn to admit it."

He inhaled sharply, his hold on the cushion tightening as the touch of your hand warmed through him and sent a jolt of something far from comforting through him. His mind was racing as the tension betrayed his attempts to keep composed. The hell is wrong with him? He thought. This isn't supposed to feel like… this.

But you noticed. The way his jaw tensed, the subtle shift under the blankets—it was impossible to miss. A mischievous spark lit up in your eyes, and you leaned in just a fraction closer.

“Wrio,” you murmured, your tone laced with playful curiosity. “Are you… turned on right now?”

His head whipped toward you, his wide eyes betraying his panic. “What—no! I mean… maybe? Fuck, I don’t know,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair, clearly flustered.

You bit back a grin, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort. “Aww,” you cooed, your voice teasing. “The big, tough Warden, all flustered over a little care? How adorable.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his face burning crimson as he glared at you—though the heat in his gaze betrayed something far less menacing. "It's not like that."

"Oh, really?" you said, leaning in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Then what is it like, Wriothesley?"

He swallowed, his eyes darting to yours before dropping again. "It's... it's nothing," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "Just a stupid physical reaction, that's all."

"Mmm, I see," you hummed, reaching out to trace a finger down his jawline. "And by that, what you're trying to tell me is that right now it's not crossing your mind how nice it would feel to be taken care of by someone else? Make you feel better?"

He let out a shaking breath as his eyes darkened to meet yours. "I- I don't." he stammered, words trailing off as he fought for a coherent thought.

"It's alright," you whispered, a small smile on your lips. "I can see it in your eyes, Wriothesley. You want this, don't you? You want me to make you feel good."

His breath hitched, and his chest began to rise and fall more and more rapidly as he stared at you, pupils dilated with arousal. "Yes," he breathed, his voice rough from need. "God, yes, I do."

Your heart was racing, your own desire a mirror of his while you leaned in closer, your lips just inches from his. "Then let me take care of you," you murmured.

He emitted a low groan; his body quivered in anticipation. "Please," he whispered, voice raw with need. "Please, I need you."

You reached underneath the duvet, your fingers tracing over his hot skin, tracing the lines of his toned stomach. He shivered beneath your touch, breathing in short, ragged gasps as you explored his body.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips bucking up against your hand. "That feels so good."

You smirked, your fingers dipping lower, teasing the waistband of his boxers. "Is that so?" you purred, your eyes glinting with mischief.

As you freed his throbbing cock from the confines of his boxers you couldn't help but marvel at the sight. His cock, thick and hard, proudly standing to attention. A drop of precum glistened from the tip of his cock, his need evident.

You swirled your thumb around the head, smearing the slick fluid and drawing a shudder from Wriothesley. "Mmm, look at you," you purred, low and husky.

He let out a choked noise, eyes fluttering shut as he fisted his hands in the sheets.

"Please," he pleaded, voice raw with need. "Please, touch me."

You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, giving it a slow, firm stroke from base to tip. His cock twitched in your hand, another drop of precum beading at the slit. He bucked against your hand, his hips rocking in time with your movements.

"That's it," you murmured, your thumb swiping over the sensitive head of his cock. "Just relax and let me take care of you."

He nodded, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to your touch. His body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as you worked him over.

You smirked, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the head of his cock. He shuddered beneath you, his hands fisting in your hair as you licked a slow stripe up his length.

"Mmm, you taste so good," you purred, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip.

With that, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you bobbed your head up and down. He let out a strangled cry, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, taking him deeper, your nose nestling into the hair at the base of his cock. He was throbbing in your mouth, his precum coating your tongue as you worked him over.

"Fuck-" he gasped, voice ragged with pleasure. "Your mouth feels amazing."

You hummed around his shaft, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

As you continued to suck and lick at Wriothesley's throbbing cock, your free hand drifted lower, cupping his heavy balls. You rolled them gently in your palm, feeling their weight, savouring the way they twitched at your touch.

Wriothesley let out a low groan, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "Fuck, that feels good," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure.

You hummed in return, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Your fingers massaged his balls, delicate flesh kneaded as you worked him over.

He was leaking steadily now, his precum coating your tongue as you sucked him deeper. The taste of him filled your senses: musky, masculine. It was intoxicating - your own arousal growing with each passing second.

"God-" he panted, his hands fisting in your hair. "I'm getting close."

You redoubled your efforts, your head bobbing faster as you took him to the back of your throat. Your fingers squeezed his balls, feeling them draw up even tighter as his climax approached.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice ragged. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

You moaned around his shaft, the vibrations pushing him over the edge. With one final thrust of his hips, he exploded in your mouth, ropes of cum filling your throat as he cried out in ecstasy.

You swallowed it all, milking him through his orgasm until he was spent and trembling beneath you. Finally, you released him from your mouth, licking your lips as you pulled back.

As Wriothesley came down from his high, you couldn't help but tease him just a little bit more.

You lightly ran your tongue over the sensitive head of his cock, licking up the last of his release. He shuddered beneath you, his over-sensitive flesh twitching at every light touch.

"Ah!" he gasped, jerking his hips without meaning to. "Too much, I can't—"

You smirked, eyes glinting with mischief as you continued your sweet torment. Your tongue swirled around the tip and he whimpered, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tried to push you away, but you held firm, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from his spent body.

"I could do this all day." you purred, breath hot against his skin.

He let out a strangled laugh, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "You're a fucking tease," he grumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.

You smiled, giving the head of his cock one final kiss before releasing him from your mouth. Sitting back, you licked your lips as you took in the view he presented-flush-cheeked, panting, eyes glossed over with satisfaction.

"Someone's gotta take care of you," you murmured, your voice husky. "And I'm more than willing to volunteer for the job."

You leaned down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to Wriothesley's lips. He sighed into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist as he pulled you closer. It was a tender moment, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had come before.

You drew back, staring into his eyes, the warmth and affection glowing within. "How are you feeling?" you asked, softly. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and he smiled. His hand came up to overlay yours. "Better," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "Much better, thanks to you."

You leaned in, nuzzling his nose with yours. "I aim to please," you teased, your eyes sparkling merrily.

He chuckled and shook his head in mock exasperation. "You're hopeless" he mumbled, but there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone.

જ⁀ seeing you wearing his clothes - 2.6k

Neuvillette opened the door, exhaling softly as he stepped into the quiet of his home. After a day full of formalities, courtroom battles, and endless patience, the relief of finally being in his own space was palpable.

He set his coat aside, running a hand through his hair to loosen the constraints of his usually perfect appearance. But as he looked up, whatever was left of his exhaustion was washed clean by the sight of you curled up on the couch in one of his shirts.

You looked up and smiled softly, but the sight of you in his clothes, settled comfortably into his personal space, had him frozen in place. The shirt fell just a little too loose on your frame, sleeves slipping past your wrists, and the hem brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough to spark his desire. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, mingling with your own warmth, making something in him stir deeply.

A glint of intensity appeared in his eyes as he took a slow step forward, watching as your expression shifted, noticing the effect you’d unknowingly had on him. His gaze grew darker, the usual restraint crumbling as he drank in the sight of you in his clothes—his shirt, on you.

“You… have no idea what that does to me,” he murmured, his voice deepening with a possessive edge as he came to stand over you. His eyes roamed slowly from the collar falling off one shoulder to your bare legs curled beneath you.

Before you could respond, he was leaning down, caging you in his arms, his hands gripping the back of the couch as he hovered close, his breath warm against your ear. “It suits you, you know,” he whispered, his voice a blend of softness and possessive heat. “But you know what else? I think I’d rather be peeling it off you.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you closer as his lips grazed your neck in a mix of reverence and need. The weariness of his day forgotten, overcome by that fire that urged him to make sure you knew just how much you belonged to him.

"Don't move," he whispered, his voice raw as he pressed you against him. "I need this-

His fingers traced your waist, savouring the feel of soft fabric clinging to your form, but even more so, the sensation of you underneath. You could feel his heartbeat against you, the strong, steady rhythm betraying his calm exterior as his lips found a place on your shoulder- your neck, lingering as if to imprint this moment to memory.

Your hands lightly rested against his chest as he pressed closer, his eyes going dark, unguarded in the display of how far his longing had overcome him. "Every time I come home, I find myself hoping to see you like this," he murmured, voice low and husky. "So close… so undeniably mine.

His eyes, with fierce tenderness, burned as his thumbs brushed against your cheeks, angling your face up to meet his. For a moment longer, his eyes held yours before he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both possessive and fiercely tender.

Neuvillette's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer, as his lips moved against yours with a fervour that bordered on desperation. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you granted him access, he deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with yours.

"You taste like home," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "Like everything I've ever wanted."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing the curves he knew so well.

His hands slid up your sides, tracing the hem of the shirt as it brushed against your thighs. "You look so beautiful like this, so perfectly mine."

He leaned in, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply. "I want to make love to you, right here, with you wearing nothing but my shirt."

His hands slipped under the fabric, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched.

Neuvillette's hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he claimed your mouth in another searing kiss. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss.

He carried you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, his hands gripping your thighs possessively. When he reached the bed, he laid you down gently, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

"You drive me wild," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "Seeing you in my shirt, wearing my scent... it's almost too much to bear."

His hands slid under the shirt, caressing your skin, his touch igniting sparks of desire wherever he touched. He trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point, making you gasp.

"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to be inside you, to claim you, to make you mine in every way possible."

His hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up to expose your breasts. He dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until it hardened under his touch. His other hand slid between your legs, his fingers finding your folds, teasing you slowly.

Neuvillette's lips closed around your nipple, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud. His hand continued to stroke you, his fingers teasing your folds, dipping inside you slowly.

He could feel your breath hitching, your body arching into his touch. He released your nipple with a soft pop, blowing cool air over the wet skin, making you shiver.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "So responsive, so beautiful."

His hand slid up your body, pushing the shirt higher, exposing more of your skin. He kissed a trail up your sternum, his lips brushing the underside of your chin before capturing your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss.

His fingers continued their teasing dance between your legs, stroking and circling, building the tension within you. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body begging for more.

"Tell me how I can please you." he whispered against your lips.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at you, his hand still teasing your folds. "Anything, mon amour," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I would do anything to please you, to make you feel good."

His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He captured your earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. "I want to worship every inch of you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

His fingers continued their skilled ministrations, stroking and teasing, building the tension within you. He could feel your hips rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure.

"That's it, mon amour," he encouraged, his voice low and husky. "Let go, let yourself feel everything. I've got you.”

Neuvillette's fingers glided expertly through your slick folds, teasing and stroking, building the tension within you. He knew your body so well, knew exactly how to touch you to drive you wild with desire.

His thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure. At the same time, two of his fingers pushed inside you, curling upwards to stroke that spot deep within that made your toes curl.

He set a steady rhythm, his fingers moving in and out, in and out, his thumb continuing its maddening circles. He could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body responding to his touch.

He angled his fingers slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. His thumb increased its pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You're so beautiful when you're lost in pleasure," he growled, his own desire evident in his voice.

"Wanna make you feel good too-"

He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him so that your pussy was hovering right above his mouth and you were met with his crotch.

Neuvillette's eyes darkened with lust as he gazed up at you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. "Then take what you need, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your core.

He pulled you down, his tongue delving between your folds, licking and sucking, tasting your essence. His hands gripped your ass, holding you in place.

You reached down, your fingers deftly unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down along with his boxers. His thick, hard cock sprang free, the tip already glistening with precum.

Neuvillette's breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. "Please-" he groaned, his hips bucking up into your touch.

You lowered your head, your tongue flicking out to lick the precum from the tip of his cock. Neuvillette groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

You wrapped your lips around his thick shaft, taking him deep into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, sucking and licking, your hand stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth.

Neuvillette's hips rocked up to meet your movements, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, just like that," he groaned.

Neuvillette moaned into your folds as he lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging into your flesh.

He could feel your juices coating his tongue, your scent filling his senses, driving him wild with desire. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep inside you.

His nose brushed against your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue curling to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. He could feel you trembling above him, your moans filling the room.

"Come for me, mon amour," he growled against your folds, his voice vibrating through you. "Let go, let me feel you."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers pumping in and out of you, faster and harder.

He could feel your thighs trembling against his face, your moans growing louder, more desperate. He knew you were close, could feel your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"That's it, mon amour," he growled, his voice muffled against your folds.

Neuvillette felt your body tense above him, your walls clamping down around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you. He lapped at your clit, prolonging your pleasure, his fingers gentling their movements as you rode out the waves of your climax.

He continued to lap at your folds, cleaning up your cum, his tongue swirling and flicking, bringing you down from your high.

But Neuvillette remained strong, not letting himself get close, wanting to finish inside you.

As you came down from your high, Neuvillette slowly released your thighs, his hands caressing your skin as he pulled back. His cock throbbed, aching for release, but he ignored it, his focus solely on your pleasure.

He sat up, turning you around and pulling you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavour mingling with his own unique taste.

"I need to be inside you," he growled against your lips, his voice rough with desire. "I need to feel you, all of you."

He laid you back on the bed, his body covering yours, his cock nestling against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, seeking permission, seeking connection.

You nod.

With a slow, steady push, he sank into you, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length.

"Ah, sweetheart-" he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. "You feel incredible, so tight, so perfect."

He began to move, his hips rocking against yours, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he thrust into you, deeper and harder with each movement.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I love you so so much-"

His pace increased, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he chased his release. His fingers dug into your hips, leaving marks of his passion, his possession.

Neuvillette's teeth sank into your shoulder, marking you as his, as he thrust into you with wild abandon. His hips slammed against yours, his cock driving deep inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

"Mine," he growled, his voice low and possessive. "All mine, now and forever."

His hands roamed over your body, caressing your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your body responding to his every move.

He angled his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you scream his name. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Come with me, angel" he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Let me feel you."

Neuvillette could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He redoubled his efforts, his hips slamming against yours, his fingers rubbing your clit harder, faster.

His teeth sank into your shoulder again, his mark claiming you, possessing you, as his thrusts became erratic, his movements losing their rhythm.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, ropes of cum flooding you, your name a prayer on his lips.

As Neuvillette's orgasm crashed over him, you could feel your own release building, your walls clamping down around his pulsing cock. Your body trembled beneath him, your moans filling the room as you rode out the waves of your climax.

Your back arched off the bed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him close as you came undone. Your inner walls rippled around his length, milking him, drawing out every last drop of his seed.

"Neuvillette!" you cried out, your voice breaking as the pleasure consumed you.

Neuvillette held you close, his arms wrapping around you, his body shaking with the force of his own release. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name over and over again.

Neuvillette held you close as you both came down from your highs, your bodies entwined, your heartbeats slowly returning to normal. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheeks, his lips trailing over your skin like a whisper.

"I love you, angel," he murmured, his voice low and tender. "I love you more than anything in this world."

He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His hand stroked your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"You are my everything," he whispered, his arms tightening around you. "My heart, my soul, my reason for being."

He closed his eyes, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the scent of your hair.

"Rest now, mon amour," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

જ⁀ watching you fight - 2.6k

The air heavy with the scent of battle and the sharp crackle of elemental energy. Wanderer’s movements were graceful and precise as always, his slender figure darting between foes with deadly elegance. But his focus wasn’t entirely on the fight.

No, his attention was locked on you.

You fought with a raw intensity, every strike you made sharp and calculated, every movement full of purpose. The way you moved, the way you commanded the space around you, was captivating. With every swing of your weapon, you demonstrated your strength and your resilience, your utter refusal to back down. The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Wanderer couldn’t tear his gaze away from you.

Each time you dodged an attack, countered an enemy, or dispatched another foe with ease, his chest tightened with something he wasn’t quite used to—something primal.

He had always admired your strength, but this—this—was something different. The sight of your passion, your raw determination, made him ache with desire.

You caught his eye in the midst of a battle, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. He saw the way your lips curled in a confident, almost defiant smile as you took down an enemy, and it hit him like a jolt of electricity. His body tensed, a heat flooding his chest as he watched you finish the last enemy off with a powerful blow.

The battle ended in a flash of elemental power, and then there was silence. The only sound was your heavy breathing, while the air still hung heavy with the remnants of a fight. Wanderer didn't tear his eyes from you as he stared at the mess your hair was in, at the droplets of sweat glinting upon your skin. You were standing tall, victorious, and you radiated an undeniable strength that stirred something in him—a hunger he couldn’t push away.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, turning to face him with a breathless smile. “Not bad, huh?” you said, your voice teasing, but there was an edge of satisfaction in it.

Wanderer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes raked over you with an intensity that was impossible to miss. There was something about the way you fought, the way you carried yourself that made it impossible for him to ignore how turned on he was. He couldn’t shake the image of you fighting by his side, every graceful movement making his pulse race.

His eyes gleamed with something darker now, and when he spoke, his voice was rough, low, like he was tasting the words before they left his mouth.

“You have no idea,” he said, his gaze moving over you slowly, like a predator studying its prey. He let the words hang between you, heavy with intent. “The way you fight... the way you move, like nothing else matters but the battle... it’s...” He let out a soft, almost dismissive laugh, but there was no mistaking the heat in his voice. “It’s intoxicating.”

His gaze drifted to the blood on your clothes, the way your chest heaved with each breath, the way your muscles flexed beneath the sweat and the grime of the fight. The blood—yours or theirs, it didn’t matter—only seemed to fuel the fire in his chest, igniting something that had been simmering beneath the surface.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you with purpose. “You look... different,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, a low growl in the back of his throat. “Tired, yes. But also more... alive.” His eyes locked with yours, holding your gaze, the unspoken words between you as thick as the sweat on your skin. “I can see it in your eyes—the rush, the satisfaction from victory.”

You could feel his presence closing in, his body just a hair’s breadth away from yours, his every movement sharp and deliberate. There was no longer any space between you two, the battlefield forgotten, the dead enemies fading into the background as he loomed over you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

He was studying you now, watching the way your body reacted to his proximity, the slight catch in your breath as you stood tall, still proud in your exhaustion. Wanderer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Is that what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with a hunger that made your heart race. “For me to look at you like this? Wanting you, seeing you in a way that’s... less respectful and more... desperate.”

A shudder ran through you at the sound of his voice, at the words that lingered in the air between you two. You wanted to push him away, but your body—your senses—were screaming for more. This was different. This was dangerous, thrilling, and you couldn’t deny the pull.

He reached out, his fingers grazing along your jawline, tracing the curve of your cheek. The touch was light, almost feather-soft, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

“But I think we both know that’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” His voice was a purr, a low, seductive sound that made your heart race. “To be seen, to be desired, to be... wanted.”

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. You could feel the heat of his breath, the weight of his gaze as it bore into you. “Well I want you-”

His hand slid down your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, tugging gently. “So tell me, are you ready to give in? To let me have my way with you, right here, right now, where anyone could see?”

His other hand trailed down your side, his touch possessive, claiming. He was so close, his body pressed against yours, his desire palpable in the air between you.

You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, the hardness of his muscles, the way he seemed to radiate power and hunger. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding to his touch even as your mind screamed at you to resist.

But you couldn’t. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you his in every way possible.

So you surrendered, your lips parting in a silent invitation, your body arching into his touch. And as his lips crashed against yours, you knew that there was no going back and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip, a sharp, sudden sting that made him gasp. His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened with desire, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Fuck," he breathed, the word muffled against your mouth. "So eager, aren't you?"

His hands tightened in your hair, holding you close as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

"That how you wanna’ play it, huh?" he murmured, his voice husky, laced with promise. He nipped at your lip in retaliation, a quick, sharp bite that sent sparks of pleasure-pain racing down your spine.

His hands roamed your body, mapping out your curves. He cupped one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, teasing, taunting.

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached for the waistband of your pants. His fingers hooked into the fabric, and with a swift, practised motion, he tugged them down, letting them pool around your ankles.

You stepped out of them, now clad in just your shirt and underwear. The cool air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Scaramouche's gaze as it raked over your body.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "I could just eat you up."

His hands slid up your legs, his touch searing even through the thin fabric of your panties. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, tugging them down slowly, teasingly.

As he revealed you to him, inch by tantalising inch, his breath hitched. "God, look at you," he murmured, his voice reverent, awed. "So fucking perfect."

His hands mapped out your thighs, your hips, your stomach, worshipping every curve, every dip. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your hipbone, then trailing his lips lower.

"Gonna make you feel so good, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive purr. "Gonna make you forget everything but the feeling of my mouth on you."

And with that, he sealed his lips over your clit, and the world fell away, leaving only sensation, only pleasure, only him.

His tongue traced the seam of your folds, a slow, deliberate stroke that sent shivers racing up your spine. He savoured the taste of you, the musky sweetness that was uniquely yours. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he explored every inch of you.

He started with broad strokes, his tongue lapping at your folds, coating them with his saliva. Then, with agonising slowness, he zeroed in on your clit, circling it with the tip of his tongue, teasing, tormenting.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he purred, his voice muffled against your flesh. "I could spend hours just worshipping this pretty little pussy."

He punctuated his words with a long, slow lick, from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop of your essence. His tongue swirled around your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves, making you gasp and arch your hips.

His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you closer, deeper into his mouth. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you.

"That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Let me hear you. Let the whole world know how good I make you feel."

He redoubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs trembled, your abs clenched, and you could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Come for me, doll" he purred.

And with a final, hard suck on your clit, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing, your juices flooding his mouth as he lapped them up greedily, prolonging your pleasure.

He didn't stop until he was sure you were spent, until the last aftershocks had faded away. Only then did he pull back, his chin glistening with your essence, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

He grabbed your hips, spinning you around with surprising strength. Before you could react, he had you pressed against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his body flush against your back.

His hands roamed your body, one sliding up to cup your breast, kneading it roughly. The other slid between your legs, fingers delving into your still-slick folds, teasing your sensitive clit.

He thrust two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly, torturously. His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles around it, making you gasp and arch into his touch.

"Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazed your flesh, not quite breaking the skin, but enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain through you.

His free hand moved to his pants, undoing them with practised ease. The sound of a zipper being pulled down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet of the forest. Then, he was tugging his cock free, the hard length pressing against your ass.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, grinding against you. "So fucking perfect."

He lined himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Last chance to back out, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

He waited, his body tense, poised on the edge of control. He wanted you, needed you, but he would wait. He would give you one last chance to refuse him, to deny him what he craved most.

But deep down, he knew you wouldn't. He could see the desire in your eyes, the need, the hunger. You wanted this just as much as he did, and he could feel it in the way your body trembled against his, the way your hips canted back, silently begging for more.

"Please what, baby?" he purred, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "Please fuck you?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the delicate skin.

"Or please stop?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing taunt. "Please don't give you what you so desperately need?"

The tip slowly pushed through your folds, but no more. He was so big, so hard, you knew he'd completely stretch you open.

“Stop being an idiot and fuck me-” you muttered.

With a low chuckle, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the forest, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps.

He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, building higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Let me hear you. Let the whole damn world know who’s fucking you-"

His thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core, threatening to consume him entirely. He could feel you clenching around him, your walls fluttering and squeezing his cock.

"Fuck, I'm close," he groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with bruising force. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Gonna make you mine."

His hand slid down, fingers finding your clit. He rubbed tight, firm circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come with me, baby," he demanded, his voice a dark, commanding growl.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching as he filled you with his cum, sending you over the edge with him.

You came with a scream, your body convulsing and shaking in his arms. He held you close, his hips still rocking, prolonging your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of ecstasy.

"Fuck, yes," he panted, his voice ragged and raw. "That's my good girl."

He peppered your neck with kisses, his teeth grazing your skin. "You did so well, baby.”

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body wrapped around his. Finally, with a soft groan, he pulled out, his now softening cock slipping from your pussy.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And then maybe round two when we're inside, hmm?"

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

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