#they get two visions each after idk

[rosykims]

having a lavellan who is kind of an absolute demon in her own right is so much fun because sure that cut content of "oh solas didnt deserve a happy ending but lavellan did" is lovely and worth centering in the conversation.... but you know what else hits? "oh my god i dont even care anymore" "if this is what it takes for them to both fucking LEAVE thedas then good riddance"

[rafesangelita]

♡ after a nasty break up, you and rafe find yourselves at the same valentine’s day party, both of you on a mission to distract yourselves for the night. what started as a petty competition to piss each other off, soon turned into a competition to see who would tap out first..

warnings: toxic!rafe, mentions of stalking, jealousy, oral (m. receiving), fingering, face fucking, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, degradation, dirty talk, orgasm denial, hair pulling, slapping, choking, biting, asphyxiation, very little blood, multiple orgasms

a/n: now presenting… ‘EXES AND O’S’ 🤍 this was originally a fluffy prompt with frat!rafe.. idk how we ended up here but i hope you love it nonetheless <3

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 2.5k

“what about him? he’s cute.” you followed chanel’s line of vision, your eyes landing on a guy with curly brown hair, a soft smile, and freckles that dusted across his cheeks. “he’s too cute.” you looked away, sighing to yourself as chanel snickered at your side. “oh, i’m sorry, i forgot you only like guys who look like they’re damn near unapproachable.” just then, you spotted rafe in the corner with another girl, that stupid flirtatious look adorning his face as he spared you a single glance. he knew you were looking at him, his hand trailing down the stranger’s back until he grabbed a handful of her ass through her dress.

truth be told, rafe didn’t really care about the girl in front of him. he was at this party for one reason, and one reason only; pussy. after you two ended things in a fit of rage, rafe couldn’t stop thinking about you, even going as far as stalking all of your socials and camping outside your house just to catch a glimpse of you since you enforced a strict ‘no contact’ rule. at the end of the day, he had needs, and his preferred need didn’t want shit to do with him, so now he was here; telling this girl whatever she wanted to hear in hopes he could ‘hit it and quit it’ as soon as possible.

he hated how sexy you looked sitting there. hair freshly done, your face was in what you called ‘full glam’, but your outfit? he was on the verge of dragging you out of the house and taking you home with him just for wearing it. a black see through dress, that he indeed could see through, black strappy heels that hugged your calves perfectly, and his personal favorite; a black lace choker with a ribbon in the front. to put it simply, you looked like sex on legs. “are you even listening to me?” rafe snapped out of his trance, a shit-eating grin playing on your lips while he cleared his throat awkwardly.

he was so pathetic, he had a free opportunity to get his dick wet standing right in front of him and he still couldn’t help but get distracted at the sight of you. if he wanted to make you mad, he needed to have actual competition, and just like both of you knew; there was no such thing. if rafe was going that low, you were going to go even lower. getting up from your spot on the couch, rafe’s eyes followed your every move as you made your way to the crowded living room. the lights grew dim, one of his favorite songs playing over the speakers as you started dancing.

you weren’t even by yourself for a full minute before you felt a pair of large hands snake around your waist, the person’s frontside digging into the soft flesh of your ass as your hips moved against the mystery man. rafe felt his eye twitch, his jaw clenching as you looked up just in time to hold your new dancing partner close by the back of their neck. “you fucking bitch..” he whispered to himself. as if you could read his lips, you turned around, looking up at the hottest guy in the room. besides your ex-boyfriend, of course. he had dark hair, a chiseled jawline, and was exactly the type to make rafe pissed.

pulling him down to your head level, you leaned in and kissed him, your eyes staying on rafe’s the entire time. at first, rafe was just gonna let you have your moment and let you think you got the last laugh.. but then he saw the guy’s hand slip underneath your dress and your tongue slip out of your mouth. “fuck it.” rafe nudged the girl off of his arm and stormed upstairs, your chest blooming with pride as you watched him disappear. once he was out of your sight, you pulled away from the stranger with a roll of your eyes, leaving the poor guy confused in the middle of the living room.

now that rafe was gone, you were bored once again, your phone going off inside your purse.

[10:10 PM] chanel <3: come upstairs!! hottie alert..

your eyebrows knitted in confusion at the message. ‘hottie alert’, chanel did not talk like that. adjusting the hem of your dress, you made your way upstairs where a line for the bathroom wrapped around the hallway. you could feel everyone’s gazes burning into your skin, your eyes scanning for your bestie in the crowded area. walking past some of the bedrooms, you paused once you reached the last door on the right.

“give me my phone you fucking psychopath!” the voice belonged to none other than chanel, your nails clicking against the metal knob before you swung the door open. “what the fuck are you doing?!” you shoved rafe in the chest before ripping chanel’s phone out of his hand. “i wouldn’t have to text you from your friend’s phone if you didn’t have me blocked on everything.” he spat, a teasing smile gracing his lips as you whispered something in chanel’s ear. “..are you sure?” you had just told her to give you a moment alone with him, your bestie feeling a little uneasy at the idea.

“trust me, i’ll be fine,” you scoffed, “look at him.” both of you turned around just in time to see rafe stand up with a wince.

you may or may not have pushed him straight into the chiseled edge of the hardwood dresser that sat in the corner of the room..

chanel accepted her phone as you handed it to her, making sure to shoot rafe one more glare before shutting the door behind her. rafe watched you click the lock, his figure towering over your own as he caged you between the wall. “posing as my friend to get me upstairs.. really, rafe? you look desperate as fuck.” you laughed, the degrading sound turning him on. he laughed along before wrapping a hand around your neck, the smile dropping from his face the second he leaned into you. “so what does that make you? ‘over here shoving your tongue down some random dude’s throat.”

you scoffed before rafe pressed into your windpipe, your eyes fluttering shut at the force. “you started it.” your voice barely came out above a whisper, a shiver running down your spine when you felt his breath fan against your cheek. “yeah? well, then i guess that means i should finish it too then, huh?” before you had a chance to get out some catty remark, he gripped the sides of your neck, dragging you over to the bed before pinning you down by your wrists. he took this time to examine your outfit closely, his nostrils flaring as your nipples were visible through the fabric.

“looks like you came here for the same reason i did,” he laughed, “what? you don’t got any panties on either?” you struggled against him, thrashing in his hold while your heel clad feet dangled off of the plush mattress. “why do you care? you’re not getting anything.” rafe smirked, his eyebrows lifting as if you just proposed a challenge. taking one of his hands off of your wrists, you wasted no time in landing a slap across his cheek, the action only making him grow hard in his boxers. “the fuck was that supposed to do?” he laughed, “that’s just foreplay for me, baby.”

you groaned, rolling your eyes before you felt rafe’s hand slip underneath the waistband of your panties. all objections died in your throat when his fingers worked skillfully around your clit, your body jolting at the familiar stroke of his digits. you hated that you let him get to know you like the back of his hand. the man knew what it took to get you purring, your hips chasing his touch for more friction. “look at you, you’re so fucking easy.” you shoved his chest in a poor attempt to get him to back off, the action deemed useless as he took your hand and pressed kisses to your knuckles instead.

“i hate you.” you moaned. without warning, rafe slipped both his middle and ring finger inside your soaked entrance, your arousal contradicting your words. “hate me? it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it..” you cried out when he curled his digits, the tips of his fingers pressing against your sweet spot. it didn’t take long before you were trembling, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his wrist. one look up at rafe and you could see just how much he was enjoying this, the erection in his pants catching your attention. you decided right then and there you weren’t going to be the only one coming undone.

palming him through his jeans, rafe’s mouth opened as he let your other hand free, your dark gaze meeting his own before you were working him out of his pants. he gave you a little bit of leeway, allowing you to sit up just enough to be eye level with his throbbing cock before he ran his tip across your lips. “you know what to do with it, baby.” poking your tongue out, rafe groaned as you held him at the base, taking the first half of him between your lips. “see? this is what your mouth is for.. ‘it’s not for all that fucking attitude you give me.” he stroked the side of your cheek before cradling your head with both hands.

just as you rested your hands on his thighs, rafe tugged on the roots of your hair before forcing himself to hit the back of your throat. you whined, your nails digging into the denim of his jeans. asshole, you thought. rafe could see the combative look in your eyes, a knowing smirk gracing his lips before you swallowed around his length, drawing a hiss from the man above you. he continued dragging your mouth up and down his length until he was panting, his eyes rolling back the same way they did before he was going to shoot his load. pinching his side, rafe groaned as you pulled away with a gasp, slipping out from under him.

his cock was standing straight up against his stomach, your saliva running down the underside of it while his chest rose and fell with each breath. “you were just waiting to do that shit to me, weren’t you?” he stood up, kicking what was left of his jeans off of his ankles before wrapping a fist in your hair and slamming you against the wall. you yelped, a teasing grin taking over your features as he hiked your dress up, lifting you off of the floor with ease. rafe held you, his large palms squeezing the globes of your ass before slapping the flesh there harshly.

rafe leaned in to kiss you, his ego taking another hit when you moved your head to the side. “i’m about to fuck you stupid and you can’t even let me taste you?” he tsked, “is that really how you wanna be on valentine’s day?” you scoffed at his words, your eyebrows knitting together as he pulled your panties to the side. “you don’t even care about valentine’s day. you said it was corny, remember?” he ran his leaking tip between your folds, a whimper leaving your lips when you felt him nudge your sensitive bud. “yeah, i said a lot of shit, i know that, alright?” rafe grabbed your chin, forcing your head to stay in place, “but i want that to change.. ‘want things to be different between us.”

it was hard to deny him when he was sliding into you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he moaned in your ear. “you say that every single time..” you grumbled, your walls fluttering around the girth of him. rafe bit down on the sensitive part of your neck, a small gasp emitting from your mouth before he started rocking into you. “i mean it, though,” he grunted, “i want you back at home, at tanneyhill.” slowly but surely, rafe kissed up your jaw until you hesitantly gave in and let him take your lips with his. it was searing— the way your mouths melted into one was nothing short of addicting.

rafe’s hips slammed into your own with a precision that turned you into a puddle of nothing, your nails running along the back of his head as his chest pressed into yours. “you want me back home?” you bit his bottom lip, tugging on it until he cursed out loud. you ended up pulling a little too hard, a small bead of blood pooling in the indent you managed to make with your teeth. rafe was turned on out of his mind, his hips moving faster as he began thumbing at your clit. “fuck— yes, i need you back home. m’gettin tired of this stalking bullshit.” you giggled at the revelation, pulling him in for another kiss.

both of you moaned at the metallic taste on your tongues, your hand snaking down to fist his t-shirt. “prove it then.” that was all rafe needed to hear before he went all in, his thrusts growing rapid and hard— your head knocking against the wall behind you. your moans were so graphic, rafe couldn’t believe he lasted this long without hearing them. pretty soon, you were gasping for air, the band in your tummy snapping as rafe watched the way you lost yourself in his arms. you were so fucking pretty like this. swollen lips, heated skin, sparkly eyes and your now fucked up hair. you looked absolutely perfect.

having been denied an orgasm the first time, he had no idea how he hadn’t filled you with his seed yet, his climax just in arm’s reach. “please let me cum,” rafe pleaded, his abs constricting as the familiar heat began to simmer in the pit of his stomach, “i haven’t finished in fucking months.” you did a double take, your eyes widening slightly. “are you tapping out, ‘cameron?” the man in front of you rolled his eyes before burying his face in the curve of your neck. “are you really gonna make me say it?” your cunt was sucking him in like a vice, his eyes screwing shut as he started falling over the edge.

“of course i am. tell me i win before i unwrap my legs around your waist.” rafe gave in immediately, a pathetic ‘you win, you win, baby!’ was grunted into your flesh as you felt the hot ropes of his cum paint your insides. he stilled, his cock twitching until you took him for all that he had. rafe’s fingers dug into your skin, leaving crescents engraved in their wake. “shit.” he sighed, peppering your exposed chest with kisses. very gently, rafe carried you over to the bed where he adjusted your dress. “as much as i love the way this looks on you, you’re keeping this dress inside the house and that’s it.”

grabbing your phone, you opened your text thread with your best friend. rafe could hear the rapid clicking of your nails on your screen, his eyebrows knitting together as he pulled his jeans back on. “what are you doing?” he asked, craning his neck to steal a glance over your shoulder. “i’m just letting chanel know we didn’t kill each other.”

fair point.

[lovableapocalypse]

weather the storm

dr. jack abbot x female!wife!reader

wc: 1.8k

summary: you take you and jack's son to the er in the middle of the night when he's sick, but your marriage happens to be on the rocks atm

warnings: reader and jack have 11 year old son, medical inaccuracies, mentions of marital differences/separation, mentions of surgery/medical procedures, established relationship, light angst but happy ending, not canonically accurate, reader has her dogs out

a/n: i don't know why i'm struggling so bad to characterize/write for abbot but i hope this does him justice. i def think he's more goofy in the show but this is a more sensitive situation so idk? i hope you like it okay!!! ugh!!!! i want to write sm more for him so maybe it will come easier to me

You were deep in sleep when you felt a familiar small hand grasp your shoulder. Your eyes shot open and you inhaled sharply as you sat up on your elbow. Your son’s face came into your weary vision. He was grasping your arm and bent over the bed, a distressed look on his face. 

“Mom.” He spoke in a pained whisper. 

“Benjamin?” You blink and clear your eyes, anxiety skyrocketing at the sight of Jack and your son’s form. You grab onto his arm that’s gripping your body and squeeze. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

His voice is soft and broken, “My side. My side really hurts.”

You sit up immediately and push the covers back. “Your side?” 

You run your hands over his arms and move the one that’s covering his midsection, lifting his pajama top. It looks normal to the eye.

“Here?” You place a gentle hand on him.

He nods, grimacing. 

You curse under your breath and stand, guiding Ben to sit on the edge of your mattress. It’s definitely his appendix and you’re praying to yourself it hasn’t ruptured.

You grab your phone off the nightstand. “You’re okay, baby.” You reassure him as you dial Jack’s number. 

You know it’s a shot in the dark. Jack was working an overnight shift again and you had been separated for two months now. Your marriage was one full of love and a deep connection to each other, but lately you’d been struggling. He’d been working nights full time and barely saw you. He tried to make time for Ben, which you appreciated, but it was a different story for you. 

You started spending more time at work in his absence and found yourself desperate for his attention. And when you reached a breaking point you pushed him away. You two fought like you’d never fought before and things buried deep inside came to the surface. After the two of you cooled down, you spoke with a marriage counselor and a brief separation was suggested.

So, here you were. At home in the house you used to share, the bed that you still kept to your side of. Jack had gotten a small townhouse closer to the hospital and stopped by for the occasional dinner and to pick up Ben. But, as the phone rang you internally begged him to pick up, all drama aside. 

You get his voicemail. Realistically, you know the ER can get chaotic at night, but you can’t help the curse that escapes again. You toss the phone down and grab your shoes from near the closet, the ones you swore you’d pick up days ago. 

You help Ben move to the car, holding his groaning form up. You hide your fear and anxiety and whisper reassurances to him. 

The dashboard reads 2:38 am as you drive the fastest and safest way you can to the hospital. You park and help your son to the familiar ED’s waiting room. It’s less busy than you would have thought, the night shift seeming to usually catch the weirdest cases. 

The receptionist is one you recognize thankfully, and her eyes shoot up when she sees you and Ben.

“I think it’s his appendix.” Your voice shakes. 

Ben leans into you, his eyes tearing. “Mom-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here now.” You repeat. 

The receptionist pages back and Dr. Ellis exits the locked doors with a nurse not a moment later. 

“Abbot?” She uses your last name as she rushes over and assesses Ben’s state. The nurse follows with a wheelchair and she helps you sit Ben in it. 

“I think it’s his appendix. Jack didn’t pick up and I have no idea if it’s ruptured-” 

Ellis cuts off your rambling, “Don’t worry, we got him.”

You follow her as they put Ben in a room and start an IV. You step forward and run a hand over your son’s hair, trying to comfort him. 

“Is Dad here?” He groans. 

“He’s in Trauma 1.” Ellis answers, giving you a look as she pulls the ultrasound over. 

“He’ll be here in a little, baby.” 

Ben nods but drops his head back defeatedly. 

Ellis moves closer to her boss’s son and speaks gently. “I’m going to lift your shirt and check out what’s going on, okay, kid?” 

Ben nods and she puts the soft gel on the wand, moving it over his abdomen. She watches the screen and Ben holds onto your hand, wincing softly. 

Ellis hums to herself, before placing the wand back and wiping your son’s side. “Good news is it’s not ruptured yet. I’m going to admit him to General Surgery and they’ll get him in pre-op.”

“He needs surgery?” You thought you’d heard of doctors being able to reverse appendicitis with medication. 

She nods. “It’s pretty inflamed, I’m not sure the antibiotics would work in time to stop a rupture.”

“Okay, yeah, yeah. Thank you. Can- can you just get Jack when you have a chance?” You know he’s working and you’re not in the best place but you want him here. 

“Of course.” She takes a moment to explain what’s going on to Ben before exiting. You sit on the edge of the mattress and squeeze Ben’s hand, trying to soothe him. 

Jack had been in Trauma 1 when you had entered the ER. A GSW had come in through the ambulance bay and the patient was critical. He had spent the first 10 minutes coding him, then working to stabilize him enough to send him up to the OR. 

When he finally exited and shoved off his gown, exhaling a deep sigh, he wasn’t in the mood to find out why Ellis was moving towards him in such a grim way. 

He went to glance up at the board but Ellis’ tone caught him off guard. 

“Dr. Abbot,” Her inhale was shaky, “Your son is in South 15.”

His world stopped. His years of training and education abandoned him in that singular moment. “What?” His voice was barely audible. 

“Your wife brought him in, looks like appendicitis. It’s inflamed and I don’t think there’s time for antibiotic treatment. He’s getting prepped for General Surgery-” He didn’t stay to hear her finish. His movements were controlled but hurried as he moved to the curtain he would find you behind. 

He shoved the curtain back and took in the scene before him. You were sitting on the small hospital bed, still in your tank top, striped pajama pants, and familiar worn flip-flops you’d had since before Ben was even born. You were whispering soft words to your son. Your son, whose face was scrunched up and who was lying back in a hospital gown, IV dripping into his arm. 

You turned at the curtain’s movement and sighed deeply in relief. Ben glanced up. 

“Dad.”

Jack was by his side in an instant. “You okay, buddy? What happened?” 

You stood and watched Jack run his hand over Ben’s hair, pushing the curls he’d inherited from the man back. 

Ben spoke softly, “My side started hurting, it woke me up. I woke Mom up and she brought me here.”

“I tried to call. I got here as quick as I could-” You continued. 

“You did everything right.” Jack nodded, his voice soft and eyes firm. 

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the wall and pulled the ultrasound machine back over. 

You knew he trusted Ellis and her professional opinion, but he also wanted to make sure his son was okay for himself. 

Ben laid back as his dad examined his abdomen. You ran a hand over your bedhead and watched Jack shift into the all too familiar doctor he was. His expression unreadable, his movements precise. 

He wiped the machine and his son’s stomach before speaking, “You’ll be okay, kid. One less appendix for you.” He smirked, winking at the young boy.  

Ben smiled weakly at his dad and you let out the breath you’d been holding. Hearing that everything would be okay from Jack was the most reassurance you could get at that moment. 

A few more nurses came in, giving Jack sympathetic glances and prepping Ben to head to the OR. When Ellis came back in and gave the all good, you pressed a long kiss to your son’s head. Jack squeezed his hand and whispered ‘I love yous’ in his ear. You watched as they wheeled him towards the elevator. 

You knew he would be okay and that he was in the best hands, but your eyes watered. The night was catching up with you. A sob wracked through you and Jack watched your shoulders shake. 

He stepped close behind you, his hands finding your shoulders and his mouth pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“It’s okay.” His voice was quiet and that was all you needed to let the tears fall. 

Turning in his arms, you fell into his chest. His familiar hands, rough and calloused, wrapped around your crying form and his head came to rest on yours. 

It was overwhelming. Ben needing surgery in the middle of the night and Jack not being there next to you to know or help. You let yourself cry for a while, before pulling back. You said nothing as you let Jack lead you to the elevator. 

He kept his arm around you as you moved to the surgical floor. He sat with you in the waiting room, even finding a PTMC hoodie to wrap around your shoulders. He didn’t push you. He let you lean on him and intertwine your fingers with his. 

“Do you need to go back down to the ER?” You sniffle, head on his shoulder. 

“Shen can manage. I told him to page me only if there’s an emergency. I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezed your hand. 

You lift your head and his eyes meet yours, serious and soft. 

“I’m sorry,” you start, “about everything. Tonight- the whole night, I just kept wishing you were there with me. That I didn’t have to worry about calling or you being across town if something happened.” 

A tear escapes as you continue, “I don’t like this. Not knowing where we stand. It’s killing me. I miss you, Jack. All the time.”

His face contorts in emotion and he swallows before responding in that soft tone of his. “I miss you too. All the time. I’m sorry, baby. I thought- I thought this would help. That you’d feel better away from me.”

Your head shakes and a few more tears fall. “I don’t, I don’t. I want you to come home.”

His thumb catches your tears as he takes in your words. His touch is soft and casual, a motion you’d found comfort in for years.

His jaw visibly clenches and his nod is firm, but it carries the emotion you know he’s feeling. “I want that, too. I want you, Ben, all of us together.”

“Together.” You repeat and clutch his hand tighter. 

He pulls you into his arms and you let him. You fall into him for the first time in months with no second guesses. No imaginary lines being crossed. 

You feel his lips graze your hairline and you pull back slightly, hands cupping his face. His lips find yours easily and it feels brand new again. Your heart full and your mind at ease. 

“We’ll be okay.” His words wrap around you like his arms and you know in all certainty they’re true.

[whoreforsexymen]

heeeey!!!! Im back with more jayce request. I would like to see jayce x reader with the prompts “Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” and “Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.”. This is giving me like rivals or enemies to lovers where jayce and the reader have some heavy sexual tension under the surface. One day jayce just loses all patience and snaps and takes all of his stress and anger out on the reader

Sink Like A Stone | Jayce Talis

Prompt Fic (See, Prompt List)

Prompt(s) Used:

#2 "Don't act like you didn't want to end up under me like this."

#21 "Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

Pairings: Jayce x Fem!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns + Female Anatomy Descriptions

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked!

Word Count: 8.3k (IDK what happened)

Tags: Songfic, INTENSE Smut, INTENSE Angst, VERY SLIGHT dub-con (it's not really dubcon--Jayce just get's really consumed by anger at one point--the unspoken consent is there) Hate-fucking, Lovers to Enemies then back to Lovers (??), Choking, Semi-Public Sex, Biting, Slapping, etc.

Summary: You and Jayce are ex-lovers. You hate him for plagiarizing and stealing your life's work, and he hates you for leaving him over what he considered a selfless act. After months of having not seen each other, you two get into a heated screaming match turned hate-fucking. However, Jayce may have let his emotions get the better of him.

Notes: OKOKOK, so. Be warned. This one is a DOOZY. I was in no way planning on adding 90% of the elements I added to this story. They just kind of happened.

(Special note to @milkbean69 !! I really took this and ran with it. If you want me to redo it in a much tamer way. Please let me know and I will.)

((((Side note, this is going to have to be a two-parter! Stay tuned for part two, which will be much softer.))))

‘We lie,

Cold.’

Jayce.

A name so simple, so unassuming, it would slip unnoticeably through anyone else’s mind. But to you, it holds weight. Each syllable, each breath that forms it, feels impossibly significant—a name that stirs something deep within you, a quiet echo of poignancy known only by you.

Your feelings towards the Jayce Talis you once knew were complex and hard to define. On one hand, you despised the way he insinuated himself into the council of Piltover’s most prestigious Academy, taking a seat you believed was rightfully yours—one you had fought tooth and nail to earn.

���Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

His so-called “vision” for Piltover’s future, with that abominable Hextech nonsense, had directly sabotaged the plans you’d spent years perfecting. You may not have had the luxury of Arcane magic to ease trade, but you had crafted a much more practical blueprint to connect Piltover to the rest of Runeterra’s trading world.

Yet the moment Jayce and his fragile “partner” wielded their so-called “magic,” your ideas were dismissed, overlooked, and ultimately erased.

‘We don’t wanna,

Know.’

On the other hand, you had always considered him a friend—seemingly more at times—until the day he practically ripped the rug of your life’s work out from under your feet.

Not to mention he had the gall to call it his idea. “His” idea? Please. It was your idea, just re-wrapped in a fancy mystical package. You had worked on it together, after all. Jayce had spent countless hours rambling about the mysticism and potential of those tiny blue stones of his, insisting they could revolutionize everything you had ever strived to achieve. Never once did you imagine that, once he unlocked their power, he’d turn against you, abandoning the partnership and the vision you had once shared.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.'

What kind of name was Hextech, anyhow? It felt devoid of sophistication, lacking both subtlety and the gravitas one might expect from something so profound. It didn’t quite capture the essence of what it was—an intricate fusion of magic and technology—nor did it convey any sense of elegance or purpose.

Although, you couldn’t deny that you often reminisced in memories of your life before his grandiose “discovery”—robbery, really— of Hextech—your idea.

‘We take our time

Ignoring all the signs

Living in fear of our lies

Never bad enough to break it

Or, good enough to feel right.’

You had spent the better portion of your youth with him, much of it tangled amidst bedsheets, consumed by a shared, desperate need to relinquish each other’s physical tensions.

‘Been in overtime,

Half our lives.’

Sometimes, you could still feel the softness of his touch, the warmth of his lips grazing your skin—and other, much more tender, places. You could easily recall how your body had ached for him at times, but even more painfully, how your heart had longed for him, too. A truth you never dared to utter aloud.

The absence of anything beyond those intense moments of passion never really crossed your mind during the thick of it all. You never questioned it, and in hindsight, you’re almost thankful you didn’t—especially after what he had done after all that time. All of the time spent together, collectively fantasizing over your dreams and aspirations of a better life for all citizens, and a better future for the next generations to come.

‘Under indecision,

We become so dependent.

On the rush,

Of the moment.’

The bitterness that had consumed your heart was unbearable now, and the thought of ever confessing your feelings to him seemed almost unfathomable—impossible to imagine how much worse it could have been for you now if you had.

By this point, you were acutely aware of how deeply you loathed him. Your physical desires had long since faded, especially since you hadn’t seen or spoken to him in months. You had even gone so far as to move to a place he couldn’t find, cutting off every trace of connection, and the bond you once had.

Your skin ached with longing for him, your body and soul craving his touch once more. Yet, no matter how intense the desire, you would never allow him a single opportunity to return to your life.

It was a painful contradiction to bear—hating him, yet craving him all the same. You felt trapped, consumed by hopelessness, unable to escape the turmoil inside.

‘Sanitize

My head.’

You hadn’t moved far—just to the other side of Piltover, away from The Academy, the council, and—most importantly—-Jayce, himself.. The distance was a great relief. In your day-to-day life, there was no real risk of encountering him, and that small sense of safety gave you some peace of mind.

However…

You often found yourself testing that peace, pushing the boundaries of the distance you’d created. You weren’t entirely sure why—maybe it was the deep, unresolved desperation for him, or perhaps a semi-conscious, self-destructive choice of yours.

‘Death murders

Everything in sight.’

Each night, you found yourself walking almost the entire length of Piltover, from your new home to the Hexgate monolith on the far end—the very place you had fought so hard to escape.

Seeing the towering structure always left you with a deep, melancholic thrum in your chest. It represented everything you had once hoped for, everything you had worked and slaved over, now reduced to rubble by its mere presence.

‘Beneath the rip in the wind

The pillar push you aside.’

That tower stood as an unyielding symbol of betrayal, a constant reminder of the anger and anguish that had shattered your world at the mercy of Jayce’s hands.

‘If I make way

I can taste your sigh.

Just like the cannibal amp

It knows sound is size.’

On your nightly walks, you would make your way down the stone pier that lead to the water, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. When you reached the end, you’d grasp the railing that kept people from tumbling over the cliff’s edge, gluing yourself to the present moment.

‘Push me to

The brink, I said

Well that bitch

Is a creep

It tried to know what I think.’

There, you’d gaze up at the tower, lost in thought—re-evaluating and wondering how differently your life might have unfolded if Jayce hadn’t betrayed you—-if he hadn’t stolen your idea and torn everything apart.

‘To breathe out passion

Or suck in fate

You think the world was made

To wield your weight

And bleed out?’

Tonight was no different. Here you were, hood drawn—- hands shoved deep in your pockets—-your bodice pulled tight as you hunched in quiet disdain, eyes locked on nothing but the ground that passed underfoot.

Your expression was sour as you traced every wrong turn your life had taken to bring you here. Your chest felt heavy, as if the weight of it all pressed itself down upon you out of sheer spite.

Your mind buzzed, a relentless whirl of painful memories spinning in a dizzying menagerie inside your skull.

When your eyes met the stark, hauntingly familiar edifice, a sharper pang stabbed deep beneath your chest, more intense than you were accustomed to by now.

You weren’t sure why, of all nights, tonight seemed to bring out the most intense surge of feelings—especially since you found yourself unusually consumed by your thoughts this time around.

Especially since, long before Jayce had perfected the Hexgate, the two of you would often come here to find solace in the sound of the waves and the crisp air of the sea. You’d toss stones into the water, or compete to see who could throw them the furthest. The bittersweet memory of how often Jayce would taunt you for your lack of coordination only deepened the pain and anger digging at you.

You couldn’t control the mindless, almost reflexive way your body reacted to such intense feelings, in combination with the familiarity of the location. Without a second thought, your hand reached for a nearby rock, and before you even registered what you were doing, you hurled it as hard as you could toward the tower.

The tower, distant and perched far out in the water, seemed almost unreachable, and your rock barely made it halfway before splashing down into the water with a sound that felt like it mocked you in the same way Jayce had. You almost felt compelled to throw another rock, driven by some irrational need to make the first one atone for mocking you—despite the fact that it, like all other rocks, had no sentience to answer for its actions.

You gave in to the irrational impulse, bending down to pick up another rock, your mind still fixated on the need to make the previous one pay. But as your fingers closed around the stone, something in the corner of your vision made you pause. A pair of shoes—familiar, yet unknown—caught your eye. Shoes that were attached to feet. Feet that led up to legs. Legs that belonged to the hips and torso of an individual you couldn’t see beyond your hood.

The rock slipped from your hand, forgotten, as your attention shifted entirely to the figure standing behind you. You hadn’t heard a single indicating noise that you had been followed, or approached from behind.

The presence was sudden, unnerving, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be afraid. If you were anywhere else, anywhere but Piltover, you’d be terrified. But here, in this ”city of wonders”, you couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow, you were still safe.

If anything, it was probably an enforcer, here to reprimand you for throwing rocks in the first place. You straightened up, brushing the thought aside, and turned to face whoever had been silently looming behind you.

As you spun around, you realized—this wasn’t an enforcer.

No, far from it.

The person standing there was more terrifying than any enforcer could ever be, and certainly more annoying, infuriating, and enraging to look upon, for lack of better words to describe the instant rush of wrath that overwhelmed you.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t look past

Your future self?’

“Your aim is still pretty shit, sunshine.” He says plainly, the nickname he had always pegged you with burning in your ears.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes locked onto the disgustingly smug expression on his face. Every hair on your body stood on end, a shiver crawling up your spine as you stood face to face with the man you now regarded with nothing but utter disdain.

You freeze, unable to muster a response, your mind clouded with a storm of rage and contemptment.

Jayce’s gaze lingers on you, almost—dare you think it—in a way that seemed concerned, longing, and worst of all—-caring.

What a hypocrite. How dare he look at you like he actually cares?

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

“Don’t give me that look,” you snap, your fingers twitching, aching to throw a rock at his face just to make him eat his words. For a split second, you actually consider it—and you’re sure Jayce can feel exactly what’s running through your mind as he observes the way your eyes flicker between his face, and the stone you had left behind.

“What look?” he asks, concern surging through his expression again.

Did this guy have a death wish, or was he really just that oblivious? Either way, you could crack instantaneously.

“That look. The fake concern,” you snap, your eyes dropping, fists tightening, teeth grinding.

“Fake…?” He pauses, clearly lost in thought as he crosses his arms over his chest, the hint of offense hanging off his words.

You fight the urge to lash out, to make him feel something stronger than pain.

‘I know the feeling

‘Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

“Yes, fake, Jayce. As in insincere. Artificial,” you spit, taking a sharp breath.

“Ersatz,” you add, the word a bitter aftertaste.

Your words cut through the air with a venomous cadence, each syllable sharp and biting, a distasteful attempt to tear through him.

Jayce looked completely dumbfounded, as if his mind had been wiped clean. The stark look of gears no longer grinding in his brain was almost comical. He was daft, no doubt. You felt a twinge of pride prod your ego upon this realization.

You couldn’t bear to stay here, not this close to him, not after everything. The thought that he was only here to twist the knife deeper into your wounds was almost more than you could handle. Your emotions, raw and overwhelming, had already drained you, and you were done. You didn’t want to give him another moment—no chance for him to make things worse, or worse still, to somehow try and redeem himself. As if he ever could.

Steeling yourself, you gather what little dignity you have left and turn away, keeping your face carefully composed. As you pass him, you deliberately knock your shoulder against his, ricocheting his shoulders in the process, a silent and singular act of defiance as you walk away.

As if to intentionally make matters worse, Jayce turns after you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He makes contact, swiftly pulling you back towards him.

“___, wait—” He begins, but his words are cut short as your hand slams into his cheek. You hadn’t necessarily meant to hit him, but the motion was as instinctive as throwing the rocks—your hand connecting with the flesh of his cheek before you even had a chance to stop it—not that you necessarily would have wanted to.

The way you had wound up the slap was only amplified by the sudden pull of his hand grabbing you mid-stride, forcing you back toward him. The momentum aided the force with which you struck him.

The weight of what you’d just done hit you all at once—grief, anger, relief, all crashing together. A small part of you, the part that still cared for him, was flooded with guilt. But the darker parts of you—those that hated him, that had longed to hurt him—felt a twisted satisfaction. Besides, it was his own fault that he had grabbed you.

You’d wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, after all, and in an oddly perfect way, this had been the way to satiate that desire.

Jayce instantly released his grip on your wrist, his hand moving to cup the spot where your slap had left its mark.

“Ah…” he groaned, wincing as he cupped the stinging flesh. His eyes snapped shut, the pain unmistakably written all over his face.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away as he stood there, his hand pressed against the raw, reddened skin of his cheek, the mark of your slap still vivid and angry. The sight of it made your chest tighten, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was you were feeling. What should you feel in a moment like this? That was the question you could neither answer or shake.

You had already acknowledged, in a quiet corner of your mind, that there was a strange satisfaction in lashing out, even if it was tangled with the thorny weight of your own hurt. There was a cruel sort of release in it, one that both thrilled and disturbed you in equal measure. Your stomach churned as you fought to suppress the abhorrent feeling of shame that crept up on you.

You could feel your instincts urging you to escape—to run, to put distance between yourself and this raw, uncomfortable moment. But you chose not to listen. The urge to flee warred with something else, something deeper, a curiosity that had begun to take root. You wanted to see how this would unfold, to witness how this tension would resolve, if it would resolve at all. The satisfaction you had felt from that sharp, ringing slap was undeniable. Maybe it had been a way to expel some of the pain that had been building inside you for so long. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth confronting whatever came next, just to relieve yourself of that heaviness, even if only for a moment.

‘Make up your mind,

We’re running out of time.’

Your heart sunk as you saw the essence of betrayal soon sweep across his face. Yet, simultaneously, that added to the anger you felt. He, of all people, felt betrayal? After the way he betrayed you? That look of his repulsed you.

He looked at you, disbelief written all over his face, his expression a mixture of shock and hurt. His hand lingered on his cheek, still tender from the sting of your slap, as though he couldn’t quite grasp the reality of the moment. The look he gave you was one of genuine confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom why you were so consumed by anger.

“___…” His voice cracked slightly, heavy with emotion, but still full of that familiar, passionate lilt, the kind that used to make your heart race. When he whispered your name—softly, almost reverently—it was as if the sound of it pained him.

‘Doubt is failure

By design.’

His eyes searched yours, full of questions that hung in the air, unanswered. Why had you struck him? Why this sudden violence? The pain in his gaze only seemed to stoke the fire inside you, making the anger flare even hotter, more reckless.

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you don’t know exactly what that was for,” you spat, each word sharp, each syllable dripping with a tang that tasted like metal on your tongue. But as the words left you, the anger morphed into something far more fragile, far more devastating. Your heart seemed to crack with the weight of it, the betrayal, the hopelessness. The tears welled up, blurring your vision as your chest tightened with sorrow.

“Why… why are you so blind to everything you’ve done?” you choked out.

“To everything we had… everything you destroyed… just so you could chase your fucking dreams?”

Your fists balled at your sides, the muscles in your arms trembling from the effort of keeping control, even though your voice shook with the strain of holding back the tidal wave of emotion threatening to break free.

‘I’m burning up

Can only take

So much.’

“What about my dreams, Jayce? What about our dreams?” you cried, your voice rising, your words feeling like they could burn everything in their path. Every inch of you ached—your body, your heart, your soul—all of it pulled taut like a string ready to snap. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep it in.

“What made sealing your own future—your destiny—more important than what we built together?” you demanded, the question sitting in the air between you like a dagger.

“Why was your ambition more sacred than our bond? More sacred than us?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. The tears spilled over, leaving hot trails down your face, but you stood your ground, unwilling to back down. This—this pain, this heartbreak—was something you needed to admit, needed him to hear.

“How dare you steal my idea. How dare you take the credit, and disparage it with your stupid, fucking, magic.” You were shouting now, your voice ringing through the night air, raw and unfiltered, the weight of your anger shattering the silence that had settled over everything. The contrast between your fury and the stillness of the evening was jarring—your words felt like they were tearing through the quiet, reverberating off the walls of the world around you.

“Your idea?!” he exclaimed in response, his voice rising sharply, cutting through your tirade. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a few purposeful strides, his figure towering over you, his height and presence suddenly far more imposing than you remembered. His broad shoulders blocked the space between you, his stance firm, as if challenging you to face him head-on.

‘I know you

Can feel it

It’s catching up

It’s getting too heavy

For both of us.’

“Since when was it your idea?” His words were fast, biting with frustration, and he was unrelenting as he moved closer, his eyebrows knit together in upset.

“‘Cause the way I remember it—we both wanted change. We both wanted to make Piltover a better, more advanced city.” His voice was now an angry force, his face craning down to meet yours, his eyes sharp, trying to drill the point home. He wasn’t asking anymore—he was demanding you understand.

But what hit you most in that moment wasn’t just his words. It was the way his anger had suddenly shifted everything. For the first time in your life, you felt small compared to him. You had never seen him like this—not even annoyed, not in all the time you had spent together. Jayce had always been the steady one, the calm, the voice of reason. But now, his fury felt like a storm—intense, unpredictable, and completely foreign. The force of it left you unsettled, and taken aback, to say the least.

You didn’t know how to react to this. His anger was like a tidal wave, knocking the ground out from under you, and for the first time, you realized just how much power he had over you—how much he could command just by his sheer presence. The towering figure in front of you, his jaw clenched, eyes burning with emotion, made your chest tighten. You didn’t know what to do with this. His anger was new, and in some way, it was almost more frightening than anything you had ever faced.

‘We lie

Cold.’

You were baffled, not just by the words he was saying, but by the way he was saying them—like a person you didn’t recognize.

You parted your lips, ready to continue the tirade that had built up in your chest, but before you could get another word out, Jayce’s voice cut you off, raw and jagged. He didn’t give you a chance to speak, his frustration spilling over, each word more desperate than the last.

“You left me. Here. Alone.” His voice cracked, trembling under the weight of everything he, too, left unsaid, considering how you fled before he ever got a chance to explain himself. It wasn’t just anger in his tone anymore; it was pain. The kind that came from a place so deep you couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard you tried.

“I did what I thought was best for us.” He stepped closer, his voice rising in volume, matching the intensity of your own.

“I proved what I was trying to prove. For us. For our collective aspirations.” The words came faster now, fueled by the overwhelming rush of emotion that was beginning to boil over in him.

“I worked my ass off to make sure that, with the help of my Hextech, your trade routes could flourish,” he spat, his anger now matching yours, raw and unrelenting. His face was inches from yours, his breath hot as he glared down at you.

“I won’t stand here and let you blame me, let you hate me, for acting out of what I thought was selflessness at the time. I’ve gone to bat for you, countless times, to make sure you got the credit you deserved.”

His own fists clenched at his sides, the strain of his words almost too much to bear.

“But you ran. You left, assuming my only goal was to use you, when in reality, all I ever tried to do was support you.”

His words slammed into you like a physical blow, and for a second, you were paralyzed by the force of them. But then the anger surged again, hot and insistent. Support you? The bitterness twisted in your gut, and before you even thought about it, the words exploded from your mouth.

“Support me?!” You shouted, the sound ringing through the night like a bell, sharp and accusing.

“That’s what you call abandoning me to take a seat in the highest of towers?” You could feel the heat of your own fury rising to meet his, and without thinking, you shoved both hands into his chest, pushing him back with all the force you could muster.

Jayce stumbled backward, caught off guard by the sheer force of your anger, and you weren’t done. You shoved him again, harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest until he hit the railing behind him with a loud clang. The sound echoed in the air, but you didn’t care.

“In the council, no less?! Leaving me here to fend for myself in your fucking shadow?!” Your voice was hoarse now, each scream louder and more desperate than the last. You pushed him once more, as if trying to push the weight of everything you felt, everything you couldn’t hold onto anymore, into him.

The tears you’d held back were streaming freely down your face, but there was no stopping them now. The hurt, the betrayal—it all came pouring out in that single moment. The fury and heartbreak swirled together, a force you couldn’t control, and all you could do was scream at him until your voice gave out, until he understood just how much you had suffered because of his choices.

‘Dam up the river,

We can go, slow.’

Jayce had finally reached his limit. The shouting, the anger, the constant back and forth—it was all too much. He could see now that no matter what he said, nothing would make you stop. The argument had spiraled into something beyond reason, and every word he spoke only seemed to fuel your fire. You weren’t listening anymore; you were just lashing out, consumed by rage.

Enough was enough.

‘Dull down our senses,

Become numb.’

When you shoved him again, anger blinding you, Jayce reacted quickly. His patience had worn thin, and he wasn’t about to let this go any further.

The next time your hands came at him, he caught your wrists with a swift, forceful motion, crossing them tightly over each other. Before you could react, he shoved your arms into your chest, locking you in place. Then, without warning, he spun you around, pulling you harshly against him so that your back was pressed to his chest. His grip tightened, his arms like iron bands, preventing you from thrashing away.

‘Mirin myself

All by myself.’

“Stop.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, vibrating against your ear as his chest caged you in. You could feel the heat of his body, the raw tension in every inch of him as he held you close, his strength completely overpowering your attempts to break free.

“___, for fucks sake! Stop!” He demands, one of his enormous hands moving to take hold of both of your wrists while the other clamped down around your jaw, bringing your face towards your shoulder, where his own chin rested in this position.

Jayce had no choice. He knew how stubborn you were, how deeply you clung to your anger when you were hurt, and how you’d never stop until you’d worn yourself out—if you ever did. But right now, he couldn’t wait for that to happen. He couldn’t let you run away from him anymore.

With one sharp, decisive movement, his lips crashed into yours. It was hard, hungry, demanding—a complete storm of sensation that left no room for resistance. Your eyes went wide in shock, your breath hitching as you tried to pull back, but he followed, his mouth pressing harder against yours, refusing to let you break free.

‘Feel the caress, so sweet

Done by my hand.’

You gasped, the sound caught between your lips, and before you could protest, his kiss deepened, his tongue slipping past your lips, twisting with yours in a way that both startled and confused you. You cried out into his mouth, the noise muffled, as his hold on you tightened, his body pressing closer to yours, grounding you in place.

Every part of you wanted to push him away, to shout, to keep fighting, but Jayce’s kiss was relentless—an anchor pulling you deeper into silence. He wasn’t pulling back, not until you stopped fighting, until you let go of that anger long enough to breathe.

And though you still burned with fury, something about the way he held you, the way his presence swallowed you whole, made it harder and harder to keep struggling.

No matter how much you had longed for his touch, how desperately you had yearned for him to kiss you like this again, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it in a moment like this. Not when everything inside you was still burning with anger and hurt.

‘Polishing this frame of mind,

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You fought against him, your body stiff and tense, desperately trying to pull away from his overwhelming presence. Each movement was a silent refusal, a stubborn resistance to the way his kiss was pulling at your very core.

‘Duck n’ dodge,

Stay unaligned.'

But it was futile. You were already drained, your energy spent from the crying, the shouting, the endless cycle of rage that had led you here. As his lips pressed more insistently against yours, the fight in you began to falter. The need to escape, the impulse to run, slowly began to dissolve with every second his lips lingered on yours, and his tongue explored the depths of your mouth. What remained was the sharp sting of your rage, but even that felt like it was starting to ebb.

Gradually, your body softened, the tension in your muscles melting away. The fight left you, piece by piece, until you sighed against his mouth, the sound muffled but unmistakable. With a subtle shift, your head tilted just enough to give him more room, more access, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to stop fighting. The kiss deepened, and in that quiet surrender, Jayce released a long, relieved breath, sensing your body finally easing into his touch.

‘My recognition face

Some get withered

Some get fried.’

You kissed him back after great hesitation, your lips and tongue moving urgently against his, as if you were trying to make up for every lost moment in a single, heated breath. There was no holding back now. The memories, the longing, everything that had been buried deep inside you erupted all at once, and your mouth moved hungrily against his, each movement a desperate attempt to relive the intimacy you’d once shared.

‘I know we talked about

The shit we did

Each time.’

His grip on your wrists faltered, weakening as you started to turn toward him fully. The distance between you closed rapidly, and soon, your chest was pressed flush against his, your body responding to his presence with an intensity you couldn’t control. As your hands were freed, they instinctively traveled up to his face, your thumb brushing over the spot where you’d struck him only minutes before, feeling the remnants of your anger there, now mingling with something else.

‘Polishing this frame of mind

Jacked it up an ax to grind.’

You cupped his face, fingers digging into his jaw, pulling him even closer as if trying to erase the distance between you, to melt into him and make up for the time and pain that had come before. The urgency in your movements was raw and frantic, a wordless plea to feel everything at once—to collapse the anger, the longing, and the need that had built up inside you into this single, desperate connection.

‘Duck n’ dodge

Stay unaligned

My recognition face.’

His hands roamed over your body, searching for any way to pull you closer, his touch growing more insistent as he settled them on your hips, pulling you into him. The physical closeness only heightened the tension, the desire, but also something darker—something that still lingered between you—lust.

Though you no longer felt the need to escape, your rage simmered just below the surface, burning deep in your chest. It wasn’t gone, not by a long shot. It still gnawed at you, demanding to be felt, demanding some kind of reckoning. Part of you wanted to make him feel it, make him understand the depth of your pain. You wanted him to know what you had been through all this time.

‘Am I the reason

That you can’t

Look past your future self?’

Your tongue retracted for a moment, and you pressed your teeth against his bottom lip, the bite sharp enough to sting. It was a flash of anger, mixed with the heat of desire, and it caught Jayce off guard. You had shared passionate moments before, but nothing quite like this—nothing that carried this much intensity. He flinched at the sudden sharpness, but in that moment, something in him sparked, that familiar fire of tension growing even stronger.

If that’s what it would take to break the tension, then he’d oblige.

Jayce’s hand tangled into your hair, pulling you closer, his grip tightening. The sensation of your hair in his hand, the pressure, sent a breathless sound escaping from you—something between a gasp and a soft exhale. It was involuntary, the sound mixing with the heat building between you. Jayce had always longed to hear that from you, to feel that connection, and now that it was happening, he couldn’t stop.

For far too long, Jayce had denied himself any form of physical connection. Since you left, he’d been forced to bury his desire for you deep inside, locking it away with a painful awareness that nothing—no touch, no embrace—could compare to what he had shared with you. Each passing day, he became more acutely aware of the emptiness that lingered, knowing that any contact with anyone else would only serve as a stark reminder of the craving that burned for you.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been stuck

And glued in frequent doubt.’

He tightened his grip, drawing another soft sound from you, the mix of pleasure and tension in the air thickening. His focus was solely on you now, on the way your body responded, on the sounds you made, and how this moment—this raw, unguarded moment—was pulling both of you closer to the unspoken lust that couldn’t be denied a moment longer.

You can’t help but let out a filthy little moan, whimpering along with it.

A shameless, guttural moan, that sent Jayce’s head into a spiral. He had been beyond desperate to coax those kinds of noises out of you for what felt like too long of an eternity. He was in no position to deny himself the opportunity to keep drawing them out of you.

His hands curled into a fist as he yanked on your hair, whimpers flying out of you like a flock of birds.

If you wanted to fight dirty, Jayce was game.

“Fuck..” He breathes out—eager, like a starved man who stumbled upon a banquet— as he pulls away from your lips, immediately pressing them against the skin of your neck he had exposed from his grip on your locks. He let his teeth drag along the skin, biting and harshly sucking on it in several places. Your reaction was deathly arousing. The slightly pained cries that flowed beside ones of pleasure sent Jayce’s burning temptation into orbit.

He knew you needed him in the way he had once gotten used to providing for you. His cock throbbed beneath his slacks, desperate to break free from the confines of the cloth that kept it contained.

It was arguably harder than it had ever been, his anger and inability to have you for so long adding fuel to the fire of his pure incessant need to bury himself deep inside you.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t keep

My mind open now.’

Oh, how you both longed to be connected like that again. In the way all lovers know well—their unspoken second nature.

He ruts his hips against yours, your own body responding instinctively by meeting them in their attempt to seek friction.

You both emit low grunts at the new sensation, satiating the tension for now.

You felt as though you were being scorched from within, the intense heat of your desire and simmering rage intertwining, each stoking the other in a relentless blaze. Every nerve burned with an insatiable hunger, a craving that went beyond pleasure, pulling you deeper into a whirlwind of both ecstasy and agony.

You needed more—not just the thrill of sensation, but the raw, cathartic pain that seemed to heighten the fire within you. Your soul ached for an outlet, something that would satisfy the chaotic tension, where your lust and frustration could collide, erupting into something that might finally ease the raging storm inside.

You snaked your arms around his neck, giving a small jump into him as you anchored onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He hums darkly in reaction to the sudden motion, his hands releasing their clasp on your hair to instead latch onto the bottom of your ass—-supporting you as you clung to him.

Jayce’s head shot up from it’s spot between your head and chest, moving to a new vantage point in order to scan the area. He was a man with a mission.

A mission to uncover the perfect place, somewhere secluded and unremarkable—a refuge hidden from the world where he could channel the fury between you with ruthless intensity. It had to be a spot where nothing could interrupt the raw, unfiltered release of tension—a place where every movement, every act, could be as drastic and unforgiving as the anger that surged through both of you.

Needless to say—and in an extremely simple turn of phrase—-He needed to fuck the rage out of you— and he would stop at nothing to do so.

After a few tense moments, Jayce focused, his eyes landing on the perfect hidden corner in all of Piltover. His grip tightened on you as he began to lead you toward it. The alleyway was small and shadowed, tucked between two shops that had long since closed for the night. The buildings on either side pressed in tightly, their walls forming a dark, narrow passage that swallowed any light. The darkness obscured it from street lamps and passersby, though Jayce hardly seemed at all concerned about the possibility of wandering eyes, anyway.

The alley itself was already tucked away from the main streets, but the particular spot his intentions were set on was even more concealed—through the alley and to the right, behind the buildings entirely, not just in between.

Overhanging eaves, garbage bins and scattered crates cloaked the area, creating a thick, impenetrable shadow. It was a secluded pocket, completely hidden from view, untouched by the faintest glimmer from the street beyond.

A perfect haven of obscurity, though the lack of any inviting scenery was hardly worth a second thought. The cracked cobblestones, the faint smell of damp earth, rotting trash, and the forgotten clutter of the alley seemed irrelevant. In a place like this, where shadows held sway, scenery had no claim. Nothing mattered but the raw, pressing heat of the moment.

You sank your teeth into his neck, your hands exploring his shoulders with a quiet, persistent need. He groaned beneath your bite, his un-abating lust taking the lead furthermore, as he harshly slammed your back against the abrasive stone walls of the building. His mouth was quick to covet yours once more, lips voraciously seeking stimulation from them.

Your sensual tango of lips pressing against each other, hips grating and rutting into each other’s carried out, Jayce beginning to make quick work of exposing you to the elements, his cock still hard as ever as it brushed against your clit beneath the layers of clothing. You can’t help but whimper out in response.

With the new advantage of pinning you to the stone wall—-combined with the leverage of your legs still around his waist—-his hands grew eager, rushing to tear your blouse apart. His fingers slid between the buttons of the opening, pushing through the seam before he gripped tight and wrenched it apart. Several buttons flew free, briefly distracting from the sharp bite of the cold air against the newly exposed skin.

You couldn’t help but whine into the cavern of his mouth, the rough display of lust redirecting all of your aching and longing straight to your clit. It throbbed with intent, a desperate reminder that you needed more friction. You greedily rolled your hips into his, yielding another low, filthy grunt from Jayce.

“Fuck.” He pants against your mouth, hands kneading at your breasts, cock twitching beneath his trousers.

Oh, how he longed to revisit the memories of your past encounters, to re-enact the acts of pleasure he had learned to bring you. But in such a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to slow down. As much as he yearned to please you in the ways he’d spent so much time discovering, there was no time, now. The urgency of the present situation demanded everything from him. If he didn’t bury his cock deep within you, right now, and fuck you senseless, he’d probably keel over.

This was his last chance. His only chance to rewrite your history.

‘Am I the reason,

That you can’t look past,

Your future self?’

Without a second’s hesitation, Jayce tore your legs from his waist, practically dropping you to the ground. In one swift motion, he flipped you around, pressing your cheek forcefully into the cold stone wall with one hand. You groan out, the harsh force of his motions prodding your deep-seated anger once more. His chin reclaims its resting point on your shoulder, teeth claiming your earlobe between them as he pressed his mouth to your ear. You groan out of sudden distaste for the new position.

”Don’t act like you didn’t want to end up under me like this.” He growls into it, the words viscerally stabbing at your clit, earning a thirsty cry from you.

He spread your legs with his feet, his free hand clambering to release his throbbing cock from it’s fabric prison. He yanked your pants down, the sound of his belt clinking sending shivers up your spine as your cunt pulsated in anticipation.

You were beyond wet—the word a dull description of the way your cunt was absolutely sopping, dripping, and practically gushing for him.

Despite your evident arousal, you weren’t used to things happening so fast. You began to protest as your back arched against his brawny, bold, and burly chest.

“Jayce— wait!” You started to say, before his teeth clamped down onto your earlobe with increased vigor, your words fading into torrid moans as a result.

He pulls your underwear to the side, fist pumping his deprived cock before he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“Shut up and take my fuckin’ cock.” He barked.

Before you even had a chance to breathe, he plowed into you, curling his hips up to press flush against your ass. You had no choice but to brace yourself. Your hands flew to the cold stone wall, gripping tightly to keep from collapsing under the force of it all.

The sound that tore from deep within your chest was raw, loud enough to make anyone within a hundred feet of the building take concerned notice. Anyone outside of you and Jayce would have assumed you were being murdered.

It was a deliciously vile sound, thick with want, neediness, desperation, and all the emotions you had yet resolved.

“Fuck!” You scream, tears stinging in your eyes as Jayce began slamming up into you with at an absolutely merciless pace. He wasted no time by giving you a single moment to adjust, knowing full well the rough nature was exactly what the situation called for. If he didn’t give this his all, everything was at stake. Or so he thought.

His thrusts were, at their core, crude—filthy, vulgar.

Lascivious.

They had an animalistic quality, one that attested to his own desires, and the hurtful longing he had harbored for you.

Jayce grunted, huffing out as he ruthlessly snapped his hips against the flesh of your ass. He plunged his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, the hand that held your face against the stone withdrew from you. Jayce pulled it beneath your arm, wrapping around your chest to imperviously grip at your breast, using his hold on it to further aid in the force with which he was bucking into you.

His other hand moved to your neck, fingers tightening around it with a possessive grip. The pressure forced the air from your lungs, and you gasp, the sound barely escaping as your breath becomes shallow. You squirm, struggling to breathe, but his hold doesn’t loosen. Instead, it pulls you in deeper, mixing fury with hunger. Each ragged breath, each flicker of resistance only seems to make it worse, the heat between you both building in the space where anger and desire collide.

“Fuck you.” He spat out in sync with his thrusts.

“Fuck.” —thrust.

“You.” —thrust.

“For.” —thrust.

“Leaving.” Thrust, thrust, thrust.

The words he spat out were coated in intent, each one seething with the same anger that simmered inside of him. The way he moved, pounding into you, was frantic, his hips driven by a fire that seemed to consume him.

‘Got me believin’

You’ve been

Stuck and glued

In frequent doubt.’

You could feel it, the heat coursing through his veins with every thrust—his body shaking with the intensity of it. There was nothing controlled about the way he gripped you, no tenderness. Just a reckless, furious need, each movement angry, as if he were fighting to push the rage out of his body and into you.

His soul had been set ablaze, and all you could do was feel the burn.

“Agh—“ You pant, air still desperate to escape your lungs as he clenched your throat.

“F-fuck you for—-Pretending like—-you care.” You choke out.

Jayce’s blood boils, his grip on your throat tightening beyond the point of care.

“Pretending like I care?” He pants as well, exhausting himself from the force with which he was railing his cock up into you.

“I care. More than—anyone—sunshine.” He very well shouts, words still in sync with his thrusts, on exhaling with each. He was absolutely plowing you now, the familiar nickname cutting through the air that surrounded you.

You were groaning out in pleasure and pain, the contrasting feelings mixing into one as he continued his relentless assault on your cervix.

“T-Then why—-why couldn’t you just—-“ Your lungs begged for air.

“Love me—-like I love—- you?” You gasp, your voice barely audible above the hunger for air.

‘I know the feeling

Cause I can’t

Keep my mind

Open now.’

Jayce’s movements stopped abruptly, his hands yanking away from you as if struck by a sudden realization. You gasped, breath catching painfully in your throat, stumbling back into the wall, your body desperate for air that was slow to come. The intensity that had fueled him moments before seemed to drain in an instant, leaving you gasping in the silence.

Jayce felt an overwhelming wave of guilt crash over him, sharp and suffocating, like a bucket of ice-cold water being poured straight over his head. It hit him all at once, a gut-punch of realization that mirrored the guilt he had seen on your face earlier when you slapped him—raw, unfiltered, and impossible to escape. His chest tightened, a heaviness settling in his stomach as he stood there, frozen, unable to look at you.

His hips stilled, his body rigid as the anger that had driven him to this point shifted, replaced by something softer—-sadder. His heart felt heavy in his chest, sinking like a stone in water.

All that was left in the alley was the erratic—-uneven sound of your breathing, each inhale a struggle, sweat slicking your skin, catching the light of the moon in fragile glimmers. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, the weight of what had just transpired hanging between you like a shroud, heavy and unresolved.

His mind was a blur, thoughts scattered and jumbled, short-circuiting in a way that left him dizzy. He couldn’t make sense of the guilt spiraling through him, the crushing weight of having crossed a line he hadn’t even seen until it was too late. Until you said what you had said.

That you loved him.

He removes his chest from your back, pulling himself out of you in the process.

Jayce reached for you, his hands trembling as he gently grasped your shoulders, his touch softer than it had been all night. His fingers barely brushed your skin, as if afraid to make contact after everything that had just happened. With a careful, almost reverent motion, he spun you around to face him. The moment your eyes met, his chest seemed to cave in on itself, a sickening weight settling there.

His heart felt like it had physically dropped, plummeting to the pit of his stomach with a sickening thud. The sight of you, tears streaking down your face, the raw anguish in your expression—it shattered him. Every ounce of anger, every moment of fury that had driven him earlier seemed like a distant memory in the face of the heartbreak he had caused.

How could he have been so reckless? The thought screamed in his mind, impossible to silence. The guilt that gripped him now was suffocating, crushing. He’d seen your pain in the heat of the moment, but now it hit him full force—really hit him. The tears in your eyes weren’t just a reminder of what he’d done; they were a reflection of how far he had pushed you, how little he had cared in the frenzy of his own anger.

And now, standing in front of you, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do was stare at the damage he had inflicted, helpless, terrified of what he’d become.

“___…” He whispers.

[elephants-are-cool]

has changed just a little after typing the tags.

Made an Apple White ship tier list in honour of some of the dumbest fandom discourse I've seen <3

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hi there! I'm crazy about your stories about Feyd!! Truly brillant!! I've sren your accettino requests...wanted to know if you could a Feyd x reader where they are married and she let him keep the harpies. One day, while Feyd is in a council, reader gets attacked or someone tries to have his way with her and she's saved by the harpies, who kills the man and than take her to their room to care for her, and when Feyd arrives he reward them or something....you choose the endind.

Thankss

Protecting His

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Warnings/Notes: I made it a little bit different, so I hope that's ok. Mention of attempted assault, but it is not detailed. Goes with my His series, but you don't have to read it before reading this. I know this could've been smutty, but idk, the inspiration just didn't take it that route.

Words: 1360

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“I apologize, my Lady,” the harpy says as she dabs alcohol along the fresh slash on your forehead. “It’ll only be a minute more.”

Your chuckle is a weak breath of air. “You saved me. The last thing you need to do is apologize,” you tell her. 

She briefly pauses her work before continuing. “Our Lord na-Baron will not understand,” she says. 

She’s probably right. Red will be blinding his vision. It’s enough that a guest in your home—an invited guest, a welcomed guest—tried to take advantage of you in a moment when you showed him kindness, but a plethora of additional factors will only heighten your husband’s fury: the fact that you allowed yourself to be alone with another man, even though that was against your intention; the fact that that man touched you and tried to do more; the fact that you’re bleeding because of it; and the fact that Feyd wasn’t the one to protect you, and in his place, one of the harpies was forced to step in. As if they weren’t in enough trouble already. 

He’s been deciding what to do with them for days now, trying to figure out if they have enough use elsewhere to be worth keeping alive, but he’s been coming up short, and you know their fates at the hands of your husband are unlikely to be forgiving. 

They’d been so good for so long, so well-trained after they tried to take a bite out of you—literally—as you slept by Feyd’s side almost a year ago to the day. That act of disobedience cost them each a finger, but from learning their lesson, they eventually became trustworthy enough for Feyd to assign them as your handmaids. And they maintained the position until the unfortunate incident of one of them losing control. 

She tried to take a nibble out of your flesh, and worse, in a moment when you were holding your newborn son. When Feyd learned of this, he lost his mind. Though the harpy acted alone, Feyd banished the three to the other side of the fortress and took the hand of the harpy who tried to have you for her next meal—this harpy. 

You stare at the stump, a bandage replacing where pale, delicate fingers used to be. She’s lost enough. It’s not right that she suffer a lash to the neck simply for being within range of you. It’s not right that Feyd’s rage will have him do the same to the other two. 

“I’ll make him understand,” you promise her as she covers the cut with a strip of tape, and as if on cue, your husband practically blows the door down with the force of a hurricane. 

His eyes land on you and soften with worry at your injured state. They reharden as they find the harpy at your side. “What did she do!” he snaps. 

You quickly rise to your feet, ignoring the dizziness that slightly blurs your vision, and place yourself between him and the harpy. “She saved me.”

He rushes toward her, but with your hands pressing into his chest, you keep him at bay. “She tried to harm you not a week ago!”

“And now she saved me.”

Feyd sucks in a breath through his nose, his shoulders rising and falling, his chest puffing and deflating. His eyes fall to your face. His brow knits as his hands cup your cheeks. He presses a long kiss to your lips, then says, “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” you say. “He would’ve done more if she hadn’t been there.”

“I gave explicit orders—”

“I know,” you intercept. “But would you rather a dead wife?”

It’s a blow. Not a wise one, considering he almost lost you during the birth of your son, but it’s reality. You could’ve died tonight. The man that wanted to hurt you wouldn’t have kept you alive to name him after the fact, whether you’re the na-Baron’s wife or not. He’s much too high-ranking, and without your voice there to reveal his lies, he could’ve pinned the crime on anyone.

Feyd’s hands drop from your face, and during your husband's brief placation, you glance over your shoulder at the harpy. “It’s best you go back to your cell now. A guard will escort you.”

She bows her head. “Yes, my Lady,” she says before she treads lightly around you and your husband to the door. 

Only once she’s gone and Feyd has settled into his seat at the foot of the bed do you say, “Don’t kill her.”

His head snaps up. “You will not tell me what to do.”

“I’m asking.”

“Why?”

You snort. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Feyd crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you teasing me at a time like this? Your life–” His eyelids pinch and he shakes his head. “You could’ve–”

With a sigh, you move to sit beside him on the mattress. “I’m fine,” you tell him. “But you cannot punish her for saving your wife. It’s not right.”

He pauses in his contemplation before he says, “What was she even doing on this side of the fortress?”

“She said she wanted to apologize to me and that you wouldn’t permit it, so she snuck over,” you answer. “You could’ve at least let her do that much.”

“I couldn’t risk it,” he lightly snaps. “I couldn’t risk you and the baby.”

When your hand lands on his forearm, he takes your fingers between his. “And they don’t have to be around us ever again if that’s what you want, but please reconsider hurting them further. They were always kind to me and–”

“Except when they tried to steal you from me to eat,” he reminds you.

“Yes, well, they were more kind than uncontrollably hungry.”

Feyd stares at you long and hard. His thumb rubs back and forth over yours. “You’re serious.”

You give a single decisive nod. “I am.”

—

When Feyd unlocks the cell door and steps inside, two of the harpies skitter across the floor to Feyd’s feet. They paw at the ankles of his pants. One’s head nuzzles the toe of his boot. He pays them little attention, his eyes on the hunt for the one tucked in the corner against the stone wall. She shies away from the blazing ray of his glare. 

“My Lord, we are very sorry for what our sister did,” the first harpy says—the eldest, the tallest of the three. It is most fascinating to see her so low. She tightens her fingers into the pants fabric, but Feyd kicks her off, and her entire body jolts back like a creature freshly injured.

“So very sorry,” the second, who has backed away alongside her sister, mimics.

“Please spare–”

“Hush, I’m not in the mood,” Feyd scolds. 

“Y-You will kill us?”

Feyd finally tears his stare from the huddled harpy to the ones by his feet. “You can pray to the kindness of my wife that I will not be,” he says. “You,” he juts his head back to the other. “You get a reward that I expect you to share with your sisters.”

Her head lifts from where it was resting atop her knees. Her dark eyes widen a touch. 

“A reward?” one of the others says.

“For us?”

Feyd gives a curt nod to the guard behind him, and a moment later, the man who attempted to take you against your will is tossed into the room. Already battered and bruised, he remains face down on the cobblestone flooring. A groan escapes through his lips, but that and the slightly pinkish hue of his skin from whatever blood remains in his veins is all there is as proof of life. 

“A meal,” Feyd says. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

The three glance at the body and then back up at Feyd. He doesn’t say another word as he turns on his heel and signals his guard to relock the cage. He doesn’t look back as the screams begin to echo through the dank halls. He has better things to do, like tending to his wife. It’s been a long day, after all, and she could use the comfort.

[uravitypng]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

pairing: bakusquad x chubby reader (katsuki bakugo + hanta sero + mina ashido + eijiro kirishima + denki kaminari)

word count: 4.4k words

a/n: definitely haven't been working on this for months <33 this turned out more fluffy than intended for a free use fic asdfghj. basically they all need to be dating!!! none of the bakusquad have any contact with each other... yet... idk i might make a part two where they're not just taking turns but all together with the reader

content warnings: free use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (f!recieving & m!recieving), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, groping, biting, dumbification, slight breeding mention, somno, wlw, spanking, petnames - mdni (like my whole tumblr)

when becoming friends and roommates with the bakusquad you didn't realise what it would exactly entail. becoming friends with five successful pro heroes while you're a civilian is something you would never expect, not in your wildest dreams, so it's not a surprise to you that your feelings for them grew with each day and after a particular turn of events you let them use you however they wanted. if they want to take out their frustrations of a stressful day by roughly fucking you than you're more than willing to oblige to their request or if they want to tenderly make love to you after an emotional and exhausting day you're more than willing to oblige- you're their toy after all.

they'll use you anywhere and anywhen, it doesn't matter if you're in public or if you're sleeping, you've given them your full consent.

the first time it happened was with katsuki. he was angry and annoyed and you didn't know what to do, you've never truly seen him like this before and you haven't been friends with him as long as the others have been friends with him, you didn't want to make it worse. ideally you would ask the others what you should do but they were all busy working.

you later found out a journalist cornered him after a minor rescuing incident and asked him more intrusive questions than normal and that day it got to him more than normal too. for some reason the press always seems to ask him more personal questions than other heroes you know and you can't figure out why but you have a few ideas: to see his reaction, to get more information about his private life from him because he's one of the more secretive heroes, or to see his 'real' personality wondering if everything they see in public is all just an image.

"i'm sorry katsuki. is there anything i can do to make you feel a bit better?" you ask him and in less then ten seconds he's pinned you against the wall and is biting your bottom lip making you moan, giving him the opportunity to move his tongue into your mouth, intertwining your tongues and muffling any surprised noises that threaten to come out of you. you feel his large callus palms run all over your body as he pushes up your shirt and touches every single part of his skin he can get his hands on, leaving bruises and pretty marks to decorate your equally pretty body.

katsuki shoves his hand underneath your underwear, not bothering to take off your clothes and fingers you until you start screaming his name and your vision begins to go blurry.

"holy shit katsuki. feel's so good." he pumps two of his thick fingers inside of you and his ego soars as he not only feels how wet you are but hears it too as your cunt squelches and you clench around his fingers. he smirks as you come undone on his fingers chanting his name over and over again, your fists gripping onto his shirt tightly.

"this'll make me feel better," he grunts and tries to press his body closer to yours than it already was, your tits now completely pressed against him. "god shitty woman how oblivious can ya be? swear you're useless sometimes. a fucking dumbass." if you were someone else you might have taken offence to him calling you shitty woman or useless especially in the position you're currently in but you're use to him calling you names by now knowing he doesn't mean them negatively, if anything they're affectionate, most of the time he'll call people extras and you're glad he doesn't see you as an extra.

"oblivious?"

katsuki grits his teeth, "shut up," he grunts and you feel his hardened cock against your thigh, he slams his lips against yours again and starts kissing you even more furiously, if you didn't know better you'd say passionately but you don't think he'd ever kiss you passionately.

he sees your eyes glazed over with a daze on your face and smirks. his hand goes behind you to cups the curve of your ass then slaps with the sound echoing against the walls, making you whine. you feel the humidity that's resting on his palms and your whole body tingles imaging him using his quirk (controlled) on you.

"no one else has made ya feel this good have they sweetheart?" he asks gruffly already knowing the answer.

"no, no one else 'suki. no one has ever made me ever feel this good!" you reply honestly, tears starting to fill your waterline.

he knows you're being honest and if anything you're being more forgiving of your previous sexual encounters and talking more favourable about your past sexual partners than they deserve. "fuckin' criminal."

after what happened with katsuki you sat down with your friends and told them that you give them your consent to use you whenever. katsuki looked so much calmer after and his body looked more relaxed, less tension. you couldn't help but think that your other friends would be the same.

you were bashful the whole time while speaking, mumbling and looking away, your whole face felt like it were on fire but you were offering to help them all, you knew how stressful their work is and you wanted to help.

you want them, you wouldn't tell them that part though, neither did you ever have to think hard on your proposal.

all of them loved the idea, why wouldn't they? they're madly in love with you. over time all of them fell in love with you but none of them would ever make a move on you not willing to lose or jeopardise the friendship they have with you nor are they willing to make a move while knowing how the others feel about you either. you're sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and brilliant, and a hundred million more things that make you special in their eyes.

none of them thought they would ever get the chance to be with you in any such way, romantic or sexual, and they were more then content with being your friend, strictly platonic, but now they get to be your friend and they get to sleep with you, they're ecstatic.

hanta likes cockwarming with you, every single chance he gets he pulls you onto his lap and onto his cock without warning and puts on a movie to watch as he watches you squirm and try to keep still but it's so hard keeping still when the longest dick you've ever seen is inside of you and you feel it throbbing.

hanta sees you struggling and grins as you shift around and whimper quietly. you're biting your hand to try to keep silent but it's ineffective. "hush princesa, i'm trying to watch the film." he says teasingly, holding onto your plush waist to keep you from moving and lifts up your top, caressing your soft skin making you get goosebumps from the sensation of his cold rings touching you.

occasionally he'll lazily thrust up into you, making you squeak, he'll chuckle at the noises you make and get off on how needy you are for him. "you look so beautiful sitting on my lap mi amor," your heart flutters and your face heats up whenever he calls you affectionate names in his first language and especially when he calls you my love, "but aren't you suppose to be pleasing me? you seem very needy and demanding for someone who has offered their body to me." you shudder as he speaks, still with his hand caressing your body.

you look at him and pout, causing his grin to widen. "not my fault, you feel really good."

hanta's voice drops lower and becomes husky while he leans closer to you, "yeah?"

you nod your head and try to wrap your arms around him, admittedly unsuccessfully from the position you're currently in as you're facing away from him to 'watch' the movie with him, making hanta chuckle. "yeah," you reply.

hanta smirks as he looks down at you over your shoulder and tenderly strokes your arm, "beg me to move." with no hesitation you beg.

with everyone else they'll take what they want from you and get you to come as many times as they want (if they do want you to cum) without you having to beg but hanta is different, he'll make you cry and beg for him. no matter how horny he is he'll wait for you to become putty in his hands as you cry buried in the crook of his neck, trying to grind against him and wetting his shoulder with your tears, pleading for anything he gives you. he loves seeing you cry for him and plead for his cock.

you're always so pliant for him and he likes to make you even more pliant. as your reward for listening to him he grabs your wide hips and starts to move you up and down, harshly, making the ability to breathe leave your body momentarily at the sudden movement all while cooing at you, albeit condescendingly. "awe does that feel good princesa? you finding it hard to take it all?" he grins as you tip your head back and rests it on his shoulder, your moans getting louder, unable to respond and form a coherent sentence.

you feel like you feel him all the way in throat, a completely impossible thought of course but it's hard to think otherwise with each time he slams you back down and your pelvis meets his it's making you lose every braincell you have with how good you feel and how good he fills you up.

"open up," you compliantly open your mouth still in a daze and hanta spits in your mouth, grinning as he watches you swallow it without any prior audible command to do so already knowing from previous liaisons.

his pace changes, every so often becoming quicker with shallow thrusts than back to a regular pace with deeper thrusts just to tease you and make you light headed, not knowing what to expect next. his groans become more audible and he grips onto you tighter, his blunt nails making a crescent imprint on your hips. "s-shit hanta i can't, too much."

"i thought you were my good girl. you were begging for me only awhile ago." he smirks, starting to get close.

"i am! i am your good girl, promise! just 's a lot."

he chuckles at your obedience, you really are his good girl, made for him- and the others.

but he does wonder if you're that obedient with them as you are with him.

he purposefully slows down his pace and wraps one arm around your supple middle keeping you bouncing and tilts your chin up to look at him with his other hand before placing a gentle chaste kiss on your lips.

mina seizes every opportunity to lay lingering wet kisses down your neck all the way to your chest. you get goosebumps as you feel her breath against your skin and feel the sticky lipgloss left over from her lips.

mina never wears lipstick but she's nearly always seen wearing lipgloss and they're always flavoured ones, enjoying the look of how the sticky remnant remains on your skin after being transferred from her lips and how you seemingly unconsciously swipe your tongue out over your own lips afterwards to taste the flavour that remains.

whenever a man comes onto her apparently not understanding the word 'no' she comes straight to you afterwards so she can feel you up and touch your soft body and curves. you're so much better than anyone else and she's so glad that you let her touch you however and whenever she wants.

beforehand when someone was so persisted that it grossed her out she still would come to see you, you were roommates and very close friends after all. mina would complain about them and you would listen and bash them because how dare they keep being so disrespectful, unable to be take a hint or handle rejection.

the entire time when mina used to talk about them she'd think about how soft your lips looked, how good her hand would look wrapped around your throat and how she wants to go down on you so bad that you pull her hair and more importantly squeeze your thighs together in between her head.

"such a sweet little thing for me," she tells you and kisses your ankle. you whimper and she opens up your thighs wider for now, wanting to get a good look at your pretty pussy. mina flicks her tongue up against your pussy lips making a shiver run down your spine before her tongue enters into your soaking hole, moaning at your taste and your aroma, making her dizzy in the process. you can't help but squeal and shudder at the sensation as her eyes gleam with every new noise you make. she removes her tongue from inside of you, the sweet taste still lingering on her tongue. she flicks her tongue up again, curling two fingers back into you and starts sucking on your clit.

the pleasure builds up inside of you with every curl of her fingers, "that's a good girl, come for me," mina mumbles against your clit and you squeeze your thighs with mina's head between them, not being able to stop yourself as you're about to come again for the third time in an hour.

"oh fuck, min-" the last syllable of mina's name is silenced in an inaudible groan as the coil in your stomach snapped and you unravelled where she helped to ride out your orgasm still between your doughy thighs.

now she gets her wish whenever she wants as she's able to look up to see how your voluptuous body shakes. she gets to feel how soft and warm your thick thighs feel wrapped around her head.

as you calm down from another intense orgasm you move to look at mina, "what about you?" hinting that you desperately want to return the favour.

she can see the neediness in your eyes and giggles. "i can't right now sweet pea, i've got to go to work."

"already?"

mina giggles again, "i'll be back soon babes then we can carry on from where we left off, okay?" she smiles brightly and takes her leave feeling equalling as needy as you but who can blame her when she spent the last hour pleasuring you and feeling your plump body underneath hers and getting you see your gorgeous face scrunched up in pleasure. mina doesn't mind the needy feeling though as the look on your face is worth it as she leaves because she knows when she comes back home you'll make her feel just as good as she made you feel.

eijiro works nights a lot of the time which means typically you get woken up by him. this means most nights you sleep with only a nightie on or a baggy pyjama shirt foregoing underwear or pyjama bottoms so eijiro doesn't have to worry about fiddling with any layers and pulling them down. the only exemptions about the clothes are when it's particularly cold that night.

after work he'll want to feel your soft body squish in between his fingers as he presses down on your malleable skin, groping you wherever he can get his hands on and pumping his girthy cock in his other hand a couple times, wanting to be buried in that sweet cunt that he loves so much so it's no surprise to you to be woken up to his grunts and gentle thrusts.

whenever you do wake up he feels guilty. he knows you need, and like your sleep and he never intended to wake you up so he strokes the sides of your body and softly tells you to go back to bed while kissing your temple.

sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but no matter the outcome of trying to get you to go back to sleep your body always has the same reaction, mewls and moans leaving your body involuntarily and you becoming more and more wet with each thrust that it's dripping down to your thick thighs.

the times when you don't fall back to sleep you don't move much, very much a pillow princess in those moments but that's what eijiro prefers. he likes looking after you and treating you like the princess you are. he enjoys doing all the work so when you do wake up all you can do is rub your eyes sleepily and moan louder while he tries to shush you because no doubt someone has to be up in a few hours for patrol.

"p-please," you whine but you don't know what you're begging for. eijiro knows though as he pushes the remaining inches of his cock inside of you, you both hiss, and he slowly and deeply starts moving in you. you grab hold of his muscular forearms and whine about the pleasurable stretch.

you turn your head to the side so your neck is bare. he knows what you want more than your tired words can mumble out so he turns your neck further to the side than you did to keep you still and bites down, not hard enough to cause serious pain and break your skin but enough to hurt slightly and cause you to gasp, your mind momentarily going blank and your hips to jerk up.

before you started sleeping with eijiro you didn't know you liked the sensation of getting bitten so much until he bit you to keep himself quiet while at a very lively party. normally he wouldn't mind people hearing how good he makes you feel and vise versa but there was a minority of people at that party who were all trying to make a new hero commission and he didn't want to to draw attention to you or him with those people, knowing what the last commission did. even though you are just a civilian he wants to make sure they stay well away from you but still that wasn't enough to drag you into an empty room and fuck you until you couldn't stand after seeing how beautiful you looked that night.

ever since then biting became involved in your sex life. eijiro knew he liked biting people before you, he enjoys the surprised gasps and how bodies move but with you it's completely different, it's on a whole new level with how plump your body is, it's like heaven. no matter where he bites you there's always some part he can sink his teeth into making your body beautifully buck up uncontrollably. the whole experience and sensation making him groan and the noises you always make in bed are like no over- ethereal, just like the rest of you.

when he hears the slapping sound of your two bodies making contact get louder and louder and sees the creamy ring left over from each thrust he has to hold onto you tighter, gripping hold of your love handles, enough to leave bruises, and looking up at the ceiling not wanting to cum yet. he knows as soon as he looks down at your cute face or perfect body he'll immediately orgasm so to try and make himself last longer he'll look up.

that on top of the quicker pace and him touching your clit, just the way you like it, makes you come. you clench around him and moan words incomprehensibly causing him to come too as he feels you get tighter around him.

"gonna clean you up in a second baby just let me stay inside you for awhile." at this point you're both falling asleep, he wraps his muscular arms around you tighter and manhandles your chubby body so you're laying on top of him, your arm on his chest and your face in his neck, the whole time making sure his dick doesn't accidentally slip out of you. even though you're semi conscious you know that you're going to be sleeping like this all night, both of you are too tired to move, with your last moments of consciousness being your slow blinks that you use to gaze up at eijiro admiring how handsome he is, you like when his hair is down after showering because without it being styled to be spiky you can see his roots coming through, red mixing with his natural black, even now when he's half asleep and ready for bed he looks just as handsome as he does at any fancy hero event he attends. "you feel too good to get up and leave and anyway i've got to plug you full, breed you properly to make sure it sticks." he mumbles against your forehead half asleep, drifting off only a minute or so after.

out of everyone denki is the one to touch you the most, if no one else is kissing you he's taking the opportunity to kiss you and hold you all over. he's the most emotional and vulnerable when it comes to sex too. he feels safe around you, to let his carefree persona down and to be sensitive and vulnerable, just staying fully in the moment with you.

the first time you slept together, you kissed his chest all the way to his hips making his hips buck up. he had wanted you so bad for so long and now he finally had you.

originally, you had stroked his cock for the first time and you heard a string of moans and it immediately turned you on more than you already were. as he got closer to his release he said breathy, "please don't stop, this will probably be the only chance i ever get to touch you." it had shocked you not realising that he felt that way but you didn't stop, doing what you were told, and knowing you were going to talk to him after.

not long after, he came and you threw your arms around him, arms wrapped around his neck and clinging onto him. he was still catching his breath, "do you really think this was a one time thing denki? i told you all before that i want to do this." he blushed and squished your cheeks, a habit he had picked up on doing recently at the time, you swat his hands away and giggle, denki smiles.

denki is also the most possessive which surprised you, if you thought anyone would be possessive your guess would be katsuki but it's really denki. he gets jealous when you spend more time with the others than you do with him and will want your attention. it's even more noticeable when it comes to other people who aren't in the bakusquad.

if you ever smile too cheerfully at someone, laugh too loudly at someone's jokes or if someone flirts with you he gets extremely jealous, you never flirt back though, you have everything you need and sometimes you don't even realise they were flirting in the first place.

at times like that denki is the most vulnerable. as soon as you both get home he's kissing you tenderly and holding you like fragile treasured glass in his arms. most of the time he takes you to the bedroom and lays you on the bed but this time he pushes your head down gently and you fall to you knees carefully. "do you need a cushion babe?"

your heart warms at how considerate he is. you look up at him and shake your head, "i'm okay," you smile up at him and you don't miss the way his cheeks are dusted pink. unzipping his jeans and pulling them down, along with his boxers that already are wet with precum leaking from his cock, you kiss his thigh and stare at his .

denki holds onto your head as you part your lips and open your mouth, taking him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and grab a hold of his thighs. he keeps his hips still no matter how much he wants to rut inside your wonderful wet and warm mouth. when his hips do occasionally buck it makes you gag before he corrects himself and pushes back against the wall trying to control himself not to pound up into you, he wants you to control the pace. the moans that he makes as you take him further only spur you on as your pace gets quicker and your nose presses against his lean stomach momentarily before having to leave and gasp for air. denki may not be as thick as eijiro or as long as hanta but he's still big, more than people would assume, he's bigger than average (only if slightly.) denki's arm rests of his head while he takes deep breaths.

"fuck babe that was-" you cut him off as you take him in your mouth again and wrap your lips around him and you hollow your cheeks once again. his moans and groans become more frequent and you can tell that he's about to come.

his grip get's tighter while resting on your head and his groans get deeper. "gonna come, you swallow alright babe." you hum in confirmation, "shit, shit, shit," his eyebrows pinch together and his hot cum sprays in ropes at the back of your throat and you mourn not being able to properly fully taste him. denki lifts you up by your elbows and when you come face-to-face you kiss his cheek, he's not satisfied with that though and he passionately makes out with you not caring that he just came in your mouth and is holding onto your plush waist while grinning against your lips. "bedroom." he whispers in your ear making you shudder at the demanding tone he used, not often does he use it but whenever he does... well it makes your whole body tingle.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ green is the color of envy (and poison)

type of post: fic characters: neige, vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, vague possessiveness maybe angst idk, oooh drama author's note: I wanted a break from headcanons and had this strange urge to do a character study for neige. here I am, writing this at midnight

Neige Leblanche does not hate Vil Schoenheit.

The thought had not even occurred to him.

In fact, if you had even asked as much, his wide, doe-like eyes would fill with pretty tears, and he would ask you, in a trembling voice, if you really thought of him so cruelly.

Neige Leblanche did not hate anyone. On the contrary, he had so much love, it practically overflowed from him, touching the ground at his feet and imprinting itself on everything he held.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a vision of loveliness, a sunrise, morning dew on the petal of a white lily. He would have gladly, if you asked him, plucked each star out of the sky for you, written you a thousand songs, laid himself at your feet in adoration.

He was cupid, a chubby-faced, blushing cherub.

He had been content, for a time. Happy, even, with his little life, the family and career he had built with his own two hands, though you wouldn't know it from their softness.

Then, there was you.

You. You. The magicless prefect of Night Raven College. An otherworldly being. A hero.

You. So kindhearted, always gentle with the first years and animals. So polite, with him and his friends. So brave, facing danger and coming out unscathed. Your hope and gratefulness despite your circumstances reminded him, in a way, of himself.

There was no other explanation for it. You were sent for him.

Neige had simply never been so sure of anything. It felt right. It felt perfect. You were the one he'd been waiting for. You were his.

After the VDC, he couldn't stop thinking about you. You! You were perfect for him, his soulmate, and he didn't need to know you to know that. He'd never felt like this before, after all. It must be love.

You feel it too, don't you?

Limb by limb, he sews together a ragdoll of you in his mind. Something simple. Soft. Beautiful. Something for his thoughts to play with. He gives you a sword, one day, and he makes you a knight. He dresses you in the finest of silks, and he makes you a noble. He pushes up the corners of your sewn-together mouth, and he makes you smile back at him.

You're kind. You're brave. You're loving. You're loyal. You're chivalrous. You're anything he could want or need, anything at all, because you're his.

Why would fate lead him to someone who wasn't already perfect?

And, oh, how he wants to pick you flowers. Neige will make you breakfast in bed, and sing for you. Everyone loves him; and he loves everyone. But it isn't enough. You're his soulmate. Don't you know?

Why do you keep looking at each other like that.

You're so friendly, just like Neige, always so eager to please. Right? That's what it is. Right?

There could be no other reason for you and Vil Schoenheit to look at each other like that. As if you know something that Neige doesn't. As if you're having a conversation with only your eyes. What is that? What does it mean?

Why does he feel so comfortable touching you?

A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist. He corrects your posture with both hands on your shoulders. He taps your thigh when you're distracted. He holds your face in both palms to scold you for smudging the eyeliner he had so tediously put on you before coming here...

Why do you smile at him when he lectures you? Why does he smile back?

This strange, dizzying feeling, this tightness in Neige's chest, this unwelcomed weight, can't just be confusion.

He can only lie to himself for so long.

You feel it, too... don't you? Don't you get butterflies when you look at him? Don't you feel dizzy? Don't you think of him?

Vil murmurs something in your ear with a sly smile, and you laugh.

And you haven't even looked at Neige once yet. The thought makes him clench his fists under the table.

As this new, painful weight settles in his stomach, a dizzying thought sits with it.

Neige Leblanche is jealous.

Of Vil Schoenheit.

[weasleyreidstyles]

on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

[sunsburns]

i’m sorry but pirate au with luke castellan is a vision that’s a little too clear

luke is a pirate, yes, but he’s not the bloodthirsty kind. he’s calculating, charming, and dangerously persuasive. he’d rather outsmart than overpower.

pirate!luke has a ridiculous bounty on his head. posters of his face are everywhere, but they never get his nose right. it pisses him off.

has a personal vendetta against the navy (or some powerful fleet) but plays it off like it’s nothing. you get the feeling it’s deeply personal.

his crew is loyal to him, not just because he’s a good captain, but because he genuinely cares for them. he takes care of his people.

he doesn’t just steal gold—he also steals information. he knows every trade route, every weak spot in the navy’s defences, every captain’s dirty little secret.

always has a backup plan. or three.

if he touches something, he’s stealing it. doesn’t matter if it’s valuable or not. you’ve caught him pocketing a fancy spoon just to prove he could.

pirate!luke is insanely good at getting out of trouble—except, for that one time, when he was tied to you on an enemy ship about to be thrown into the sea. but you guys pretend that never actually happened.

but there was always a before and after that incident.

before; the two of you had never worked with each other. you usually worked for some opposing group (but then again, who was not against whatever luke was doing?)

you’ve crossed paths way too many times, sometimes fighting, sometimes begrudgingly working together.

he flirts even when you’re trying to kill him.

you think he’s reckless. he thinks you’re too stubborn for your own good. you both might be right.

when you get captured together, he’s still smug about it. even when you’re tied up at the plank together, about to be dumped into the ocean to become shark food.

he has a scar on his face—you have no idea where it came from, but you find yourself tracing it absentmindedly one night before he catches your wrist.

pirate!luke can’t tie knots for shit. someone else on his crew does it for him. but he makes up for it by being insanely good at picking locks and his talent with a sword.

he curses in ancient greek. (and everyone finds it weird because you’re all in the middle of the caribbean)

if you ever actually beat him in a fight, he laughs, breathless, and looks at you like you hung the stars.

he has a thing for running his fingers over your pulse point. not even always in a flirty way—sometimes just thoughtful, absentminded. "still breathing? good. wouldn't want you dying on me yet."

pirate!luke is always grinning mid-fight, taunting his opponent like he has all the time in the world.

doesn’t carry just one sword. he’s got a hidden dagger strapped to his boot and another tucked in his belt, just in case. might even carry another sword on his back idk.

[0mysteiarchives]

"Without a trace."

• Firefly , Aventurine , Misha , Robin

A/N: Felt quirky soo... reader dying alone arc

Warnings: reader actually dying like fr and angst ?? idk.. also ooc or something... i'll just put it in case

Well..! So you were caught by death at an unexpected moment, but..

Not a single person in Penacony knew you were gone?

-

Your body feeling heavy and your vision becoming blurry, you held tightly onto the last string of consciousness you had left, thinking about the person you cared the most..

Firefly had offered to take you around the plaza to play different games, try different pastries, watch the beautiful scenery from her secret hideout until by each other's side like a little 'date'..

Oh, how she eagerly waits for you as people come and go by her with the happy feelings she hopes to share with you, not even knowing you're gone.

Adventurine had made a bet with you, and the loser of the game has to take the other to an expensive, and luxurious restaurant. He joked that it would be a romantic moment between the two of you and watched as you brushed him off and accepted the deal.

Oh, how disappointed he felt when he never received a single message, thinking that you had backed out without telling him as he walked away from your meeting spot, unaware that you're even gone.

Misha had accepted your offer of helping around the Reverie out of sympathy, you watched as his expression turned from a confused to a happy, and appreciative one. He felt grateful that you would keep him company and have time to catch up.

Oh, how deeply sad he felt as he never saw you walk through the hotel entrance, thinking you had abandoned your promise. He'd overthink that you were gone.

Robin had given you a free ticket to her next concert, giving you a sweet smile and telling you to keep it a secret from her fans, to which you gave into and accepted the invitation. She gave you a hug before parting ways to get ready and make herself presentable mostly for you.

Oh, how hurt she felt when she was unable to find you within the crowd, quickly scurrying down after her performance to ask her fans, her staff members, and even her brother for your whereabouts. How heartbroken she'd be to find out you were gone.

And oh, how you wished that you could have seen them for one last time with tears in your eyes, as you apologize that you two may not meet ever again.

-

Literally chilling in my chair w food and water casually writing random angst I thought would be cool rn

[10ava01]

hiii!! Can i request a childhood bestfriends to lovers au with joaquin where he went off to the airforce and they lost contact a little then she is like helping out sam in some way (idk how 😭) and her and joaquin reunite again and thats where the love part starts

i have no idea if this makes any sense but 😍 if not ill re word it😭

Hi darling! Thank you for your request—omg, I totally see your vision! Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy reading it! 😚🩷

"If you want a part 2 of this story, tell me!"

Materlist

Part 2

Falling back in

The very first time you laid your eyes on Joaquin Torres was when you were five years old. He had moved in with his parents next door. From the window in your room, you saw him unpack one box after another. You observed his every move—how he might be your age or maybe a little older, his curls falling into his eyes, his face lighting up as he looked around the neighborhood—and you just hoped that one day, you could become friends with that boy.

When he showed up the next day on your porch with a crooked smile and two popsicles—one already half-melted in his hands because of the Texas sun—you just stared at him in shock. Your wish had come true.

"Hello, I’m your new neighbor. Do you wanna play in the garden with me?" he asked so simply, without knowing that you were exploding inside.

Your shy behavior didn’t turn him away; it only made him more interested in you.

And for the longest time, everything about your friendship was that simple and easy.

You grew up together—bare feet on hot pavement, scraped knees, and whispered secrets under starry skies. Because of him, your childhood became more colorful. Every memory you had was with him. He was always there. Until he wasn’t.

You knew that all Joaquin ever wanted was to make a difference in the world. To become a hero. Only, he didn’t realize that he had been your hero your whole life. He had saved you in ways that were impossible for you to put into words. But he needed to be more than just one person’s hero. You had to accept that fact and let him go.

The day he left for the Air Force, your whole world shattered. You wanted him to become the person he had always dreamed of being, but practically signing up for death? You wanted to beg him to stay, to find a new purpose, to find a different dream—but the smile on his face told you that no matter what, no one, not even you, could change his mind. That’s why you stood at the edge of his driveway, watching him throw his bag into the back of his truck. You forced a smile, shoving down the ache in your chest. You did it for him. You would go to the ends of the earth if it meant he would be by your side. Only for him.

“Don’t forget about me when you get all important and stuff.”

Sure, there was no way he would think about forgetting you. To this day, you had both been glued to each other at the hip, and there could never be a time when you weren’t together. But the pit of feeling in your belly rose with every second. All you could do was push it away because even thinking about it sounded absurd. No one could truly take him away from you—not distance, not fame, not even time itself.

Joaquin laughed, nudging your shoulder. “Like I could.”

At his answer, he reassured your absurd thoughts. So you pushed everything aside as you said your goodbyes and made pinky promises to stay in contact no matter what.

But time had other plans.

The first few weeks, the calls calmed your heartbeat. He was alive, and his voice assured you of that—until they stopped.

The only communication you had with him was through letters, and even those stopped after a while. You wrote him, one after another, but there was no response.

Only radio silence.

And eventually, you forced yourself to move on. To move on from the only person who saw you, made you feel alive, and most importantly, stuck by your side no matter what.

-

The shy and awkward kid you once were should see you now—confident and outspoken. But working for the past five years as a SHIELD agent changed you. You learned so much, even about yourself, that there was no time to look back at your old self. And you were happy that way. You were good at your job, and you wouldn’t dare change anything about your current life.

That’s what you thought this morning—until you saw him on the battlefield. Anywhere else, but not in the middle of this.

The bullets had long stopped flying by now, which was good news and also meant that, after all, Sam Willson was useful rather than leaving you to handle everything. Even Sam’s good work couldn’t put you in a good mood. The tension in the aftermath of this mission was unraveling.

You didn’t notice him while helping clean up whatever mess was left behind. For a second, you tried to gaslight yourself into thinking that you had seen a ghost from your past. But his voice was all you needed to know that the ghost was very real.

“Well, damn. If it isn’t trouble herself.”

You freeze.

You had dreamed so often about finally hearing his voice again, but nothing had prepared you for your nightmares.

As you slowly turn—there he is.

Joaquin Torres. Your first love and heartbreak.

The boy you once knew everything about, but not anymore. His uniform is crisp, his stance more solid, and the sun catches the sharp edges of his face in a way that makes your heart stutter. All the feelings you thought you had left behind betray you at the sight of him standing in front of you.

It’s been years.

You’ve written so much in your journal, but now that he’s here—alive—you have no words. Every system inside you leaves you hanging. Because of him.

Joaquin grins, shifting his weight like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “You look good.”

You swallow, something thick forming in your throat. “So do you.”

There’s a beat of silence as you stare at each other. Everything feels heavy with all the things left unsaid.

Then he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—uh—I meant to reach out.”

Your chest tightens. “Yeah?”

He nods, eyes flickering with something almost nervous. “I guess I thought… maybe you moved on. Didn’t need me around anymore.”

You had thought about every possible reason why he would disappear from your life without a word, but his answer leaves you stunned. Because you should be angry. You should call him out for disappearing.

But the truth is, deep down, you know that you need him. You always needed him.

And standing here now, with him looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear on him, you realize something.

No matter how much he hurt you, you will forgive him over and over again as long as you have him. As a lover, a friend, or even a stranger. As long as he is alive and in your life, you are whole again.

[yurilover000]

idk why i keep thinking abt angsty loser!ellie… she is my baby

nsfw! just ellie masturbating n crying (me) 𝜗𝜚

pts 2 & 3 already posted!

a wonderful anon said my fic reminded them of this song and they r so right… listen to it rn

daily click! do not buy tlou free palestine 🇵🇸

ellie was so in love with you. she is so in love with you.

you are her light. your smile, your laugh, your everything. she just couldn’t get enough of you. being friends with you was probably the best blessing god could ever gift her, yet also the worst punishment.

she knew she could never have you.

not in the way she wanted, anyway.

you talk ellie’s ear off almost everyday, and ellie never gets tired of it. your sweet voice that felt like pure honey and warmth being poured into her ears. so sickly sweet. she swore you were a siren of some sort.

you were so perfect and you didn’t even know it. you would tell ellie about your escapades and little ‘situationships’ as you’d like to call it, and it made her sick. every last person you talked about seemed like shit. she couldn’t believe that you thought that’s all you were worthy of.

she would worship you if you gave her the chance.

she told you the same thing each time: “fuck them. you know you’re too pretty for them anyway.”

and you were always grateful for her. who else would remind you of your worth? you needed her, she was your rock. your fidgety, awkwardly nerdy rock.

she was always the shy type. or she was around you, at least. she was never too bashful, but sometimes she’d slip and show you just how nervous you make her. her freckled skin would turn all pink, her eyes avoiding your gaze. she’d have an awkward, thin-lipped smile, and you could feel the clamminess of her hands if she was touching you. you’d find it cute, how she’d just melt if you two were touching or you’d give her a compliment on literally anything.

but what you didn’t know, is how she hated herself for it.

after anytime you two hung out, she’d go home, stomping to her room and looking down at her feet. “so fucking stupid.” she’d mutter to herself, thinking of all the times she stuttered around you or got all warm in the face. but without fail, each little mishap would lead to her in her bed, a string of curses leaving her mouth while pathetically fingering herself to the thought of you.

one particular night, she had shown up to your house unannounced. knocking at your door, leaning back on her heels as she waited for you to open up.

she doesn’t normally do this. she never does this. but she thought maybe you two had gotten close enough. just enough for her to show up at your home anytime she felt like seeing you.

so when you opened the door, and she saw your hair a bit disheveled, your cheeks flushed and what appeared to be a hickey below your jaw, that thought quickly went away.

“fuck, els. i’m sorry but… really bad timing.”

you said with a light chuckle, giving her an apologetic smile. she just stared at you, eyes wide and her cheeks red.

“fuck. i’m sorry, shit. i don’t know why i showed up here— i wasn’t thinking. sorry.”

she mutters, stuttering over her words. she hated how her tummy got all fuzzy and how her boxers suddenly felt all warm and soaked. all while having the biggest lump in her throat.

before you could say anything back, she was already speed walking away from your front door, down to her car. she got in and drove away, not even bothering to see if you were still there, watching her.

she felt so fucking stupid. her vision was blurry as she drove home, speeding until she finally parked in her driveway. who the fuck was in your house? which one was it fucking you? did they even love you like she did? she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

she swung the door open, then slammed it behind her as she ran to her room. she closed the door and locked in, and let the tears flow. she kicked her beat up converse off, and aggressively rubbed her cheeks to get rid of the wet tears that rolled down them.

“fucking idiot.”

“why the fuck would i?— god.”

“what did i think? she doesn’t love me.”

she mumbles to herself, all through hiccups and stuttered breaths. her pretty cheeks are wet with hot tears, her eyes red and watery. even her poor nose is all stuffed up, making her sound nasally as she dumbly insults herself.

one by one, she removes her clothes. she fiddles with the button of her jeans and undoes it, hooking her thumbs under the band of her boxers at the same time, and kicks it all off. she then moves to her hoodie, messily taking it off and cursing when it gets stuck on her little bun. she even takes her sports bra off, which she never does.

fully naked and vulnerable, she turns all the lights off and crawls into bed.

she sobs into her pillow, feeling like some pathetic idiot. she doesn’t know why she ever thought you’d feel for her the way she feels for you. she felt so fucking perverted too— getting wet over the idea of you getting fucked. getting wet over your smile, your touch.

she sniffles, her slender hand slithering down to her pussy. she sighs as her middle finger lightly swipes by her clit, feeling just how wet she is. she brings her ring finger into the mix and circles her clit, gathering all the wetness from her clenching hole.

she moans, quietly. ellie isn’t typically a moaner, but she is right now. she is for you. she rubs her clit rapidly, the sounds of her squelching pussy filling her dark room. she closes her eyes, not wanting to cum too quick. she stars to think about you, and her fingers go to plug her hole.

she imagines you below her, giving her that sweet smile as she made love to you. she wanted to love you so bad, it hurt.

“oh god— shit,” she whined to herself, legs spread and feet planted on her bed, knees bent as she mercilessly fucked herself to the thought of you. she wanted to make you cum by her fingers, mouth, cunt— whatever the fuck you wanted.

her imagination switched to your mouth on her pussy, lapping at her clit and eating her out like you’d die if you didn’t. she let out a shaky whine, imagining that her fingers were your tongue, moving in and out of her as your nose nudged her clit.

ellie’s breath sped up, her eyebrows knitted upwards as she felt that hot, sticky feeling in her belly just come flooding out. her cunt pushed out and clenched around her fingers, as she cums with a strangled cry. her body covered in a thin layer of sweat, and her thighs trembling as her slick came gushing out of her, staining her sheets below her.

she slowly pulled her fingers out, catching her breath. she could feel her heart in her ears. but the ache never left. she’s still crying, just not as theatrically. she doesn’t even bother cleaning herself up or her bed, just turning to the side and hugging her pillow. she shoves her face into the plush pillow, her wet face dampening the fabric. and there, cum sticking her thighs and pussy together, naked, she fell asleep.

and she’ll never move on, either. you haunt her, even in her dreams. doomed to love you in every reality.

aaakkk i dunno how to end these 😖 this is my first fic(?) drabble thingy ever so pls be gentle haha lol ☺️☺️☺️👍

this is so rushed bai 😑

[starkeysprincess]

Petals & Promises

rafe cameron x Kook fem!reader

SUMMARY: Rafe Cameron doesn’t do romance—until after that wild night at the party, when he starts showing up at your door with flowers. No words, just a smirk and a bouquet. It’s probably just a joke... or is it?

wc: 3,4k (I got carried away 😛)

WARNINGS: some angst, mainly fluff, (idk what else to add lmk)

Y/N was curled up on her couch, overwhelmed with the strenuous college work that she had to turn in till next week. It was quiet on Figure 8, The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. The stress inside of her was slowly building up while cautiously reading through her essay, making sure not to make one single mistake. She was a straight A student after all, and the only thing that mattered to her was having perfect grades. Meanwhile her friends were going out, partying, drinking, living their best lives, she was bed rotting and freaking out about her future, it was stupid really.

suddenly, she heard her phone ring and when she saw that it was her best friend Lila, she couldn't of have been happier. Immediately she picks up the phone:

L: "hey girlll, how are you?"

Y/N: "hey Lil, I'm finishing up my assignment, as always, ugh im literally about to pass out."

L: "okayyy perfect then, I have the perfect solution for you, you're coming to Rafe Camerons party today at 8. You seriously need to loosen up."

Y/N: "wait- what? Lil, you know I can-"

L: cya there!

*the phone Hangs up*

"Fuck...." you mumble to yourself and let out a sigh. But on the other hand, maybe listening to Lila and forgetting about school wouldn't be so bad at all? I mean, as long as you don't get wasted what could go wrong? Time passes and you get up to fancy yourself up. It feels so stupid to you, but on the other side you've never been to a party before and a feeling of excitement rushes through you. Therefore you do a full face of soft glam makeup, touching it up with a rosey pink color of gloss and curl your hair. The last touch was the outfit, for which you had decided to go with a pretty dark blue evening gown and a pair of louboutin heels. If you were being honest, this was the prettiest you've felt in a long time. It felt relieving to feel comfortable and beautiful in your own body again. You leave your house and start walking to Tannyhill. Once you get to your destination, you see a large crowd of people in front of the Cameron household. You step into the house, and boom—music shaking the walls, bodies everywhere, air thick with booze and something fruity. Before you can even process, Lila spots you.

“GIRL, FINALLY!” she stumbles over, nearly spilling her drink. “I was ’boutta send a damn search party. By the way you look JAW DROPPING”

“Thank you but you texted me two minutes ago.”

“And that was two minutes of suffering,” she says dramatically, shoving a cup into your hand. “Now drink.”

You sniff it. “What the hell is this?”

“Who cares? It’s alcohol.”

You take a sip—mistake. “Bro, are you tryna poison me?”

she cackles. “Lightweight. C’mon, we need shots.”

Fast forward—you're both gone.

You’re clinging to each other, half-dancing, half-tripping, screaming the wrong lyrics to some song. Your head spins, but in a fun way.The room spins. The lights blur into streaks of neon, and the bass vibrates through your chest like it's syncing with your heartbeat. You don’t know how long it’s been—minutes? Hours? Your head is heavy, your legs unsteady, and suddenly, Lila is gone. Panic flickers through the haze of alcohol. You push through the crowd, bumping into sweaty bodies, murmuring half-apologies. Your vision tunnels, and the edges of the world start to fade. Shit. You need air. You need to sit. Stumbling toward the wall, you brace yourself, blinking hard to clear your vision. The party keeps moving around you—people laughing, dancing, making out in dark corners—but it all feels distant, like you're underwater. But even through your fucked up vision and fuzzy head, you see and feel someone eyeing you down.

And then you see him.

Rafe Cameron.

He’s across the room, leaning against the counter, drink in hand, watching you. Not just looking—watching. His sharp blue eyes flicker under the dim lights, unreadable, intense. Your pulse stutters. Whether it's from the alcohol or the way he tilts his head slightly, like he’s debating something, you’re not sure. All you know is that everything else—the noise, the people, the chaos—fades into the background.

It’s just you and him.

Your legs give out before you can take another step. The world tilts violently, and the last thing you feel is the cold floor meeting your body. Distantly, voices blur together, someone laughs, music pulses through your skull. Then—warm hands. Strong arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground completely. The scent of cologne, sharp and clean, cuts through the alcohol haze clouding your brain. “Shit.” A deep voice, close. Your head lolls against something firm—a chest? A shoulder? You can barely process it, everything slipping in and out of consciousness like a bad dream. “Yo, is she good?” someone asks. “She’s fine,” the voice responds, low and controlled. “I got her.”

Then you’re moving. Lifted effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs and back. The warmth is grounding, but your mind is too fogged to fight it, to even think about what’s happening. Cool air kisses your burning skin as you’re carried outside. The music muffles behind closed doors, replaced by the sound of steady footsteps, the distant hum of crickets.

You try to mumble something, but it comes out as a slurred mess.

“Relax,” the voice says. “You’re safe.”

Safe. The word wraps around you, pulling you further into the darkness.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. Not just from the hoodie wrapped around you, but from the air itself—quieter, softer than the freezing night outside. The second thing is the scent—clean linen, expensive cologne, a faint trace of cigarette smoke.

You’re not at the party anymore.

Your head is still spinning, but the pounding bass, the suffocating crowd, the overwhelming chaos—it’s all gone. Replaced by something calmer. Safer. Blinking hard, you push yourself up slightly, your body weak and heavy, and that’s when you see him.

Rafe Cameron.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly like he’s been watching you this entire time. But not in the way people usually say he does. There’s no arrogance, no sharp amusement. Just something unreadable. Something almost… gentle. His blue eyes flicker over your face, scanning, assessing. “You good?” Your throat is dry, but you manage to croak, “Where—?”

“My place,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You were out of it. I wasn’t about to leave you there.” The weight of those words settles in your chest. You were vulnerable—completely out of it—and instead of taking advantage, instead of leaving you behind, he brought you here. Safe. Taken care of.

You were confused, and on the other hand you were partially panicking, why would Rafe Cameron take you to his house?

“I—” You don’t even know what to say. Your hands clutch at the hoodie around you, only now realizing it’s his. The sleeves practically swallow your arms, the fabric drowning you in warmth. “You were shaking,” Rafe says like he’s reading your mind. “Figured you could use it.” Your stomach flips. Why is he like this?

You’ve heard the stories—Rafe Cameron is reckless. Selfish. Dangerous. But the guy sitting in front of you? He’s none of those things. Maybe it's just an illusion, maybe he just wants to get between your legs and leave you. He shifts, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand, then holds it out to you. But when you try to grab it, your fingers tremble too much. You're unsure of wether you should trust him or not.

Rafe notices.

Without a word, he lifts the glass to your lips himself, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, steadying you. His touch is warm, careful, almost hesitant—like he’s afraid of hurting you. The moment stretches, something thick and heavy settling between you. When you finish, he pulls back just slightly, his thumb barely grazing your skin before he lets go. The loss of contact makes something tighten in your chest.

“You feeling okay now?” His voice is quieter now, softer.

You nod weakly. “Yeah… thanks.”

His lips press together, like he’s debating something. Then, finally, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I don't want you to go there anymore.”

Your breath catches. “I—what?” Rafe lets out a small, breathy chuckle, almost like he can’t believe himself either. “You just… you don't belong at parties.” He glances away for a second, then back at you.

Your heart drops, unsure what he means and you swear you could feel your face heat up in embarrassment.

Your fingers tighten around the hoodie still wrapped around you, and you finally whisper, “Why?”

Rafe holds your gaze for a long moment, the air between you thick, heavy with something neither of you know how to name. Finally, he reaches out, fingers barely grazing your cheek, his touch featherlight. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Because it’s you,” he murmurs. He stares you down with a neutral face expression. The embarrassment lingers, twisting in your chest.

Parties aren’t for you.

Rafe’s words replay in your mind, making you feel small. You tug his hoodie tighter around you, avoiding his gaze. He sighs, grabbing his keys. “C’mon. I’ll take you home.” The drive is quiet until he finally speaks. “You think I meant that in a bad way.” You hesitate. “Didn’t you?” His grip on the wheel tightens. “No. I meant… you don’t need that shit. The fake smiles, drunk assholes, guys looking at you like—” He stops, jaw clenching. “Like you’re something to mess with.”

Your heart stumbles.

“I just—” He sighs. “It’s not you.” The weight in your chest shifts. Not gone, but lighter. When he pulls up to your house, he reaches out, tugging the hood over your head gently. His fingers graze your jaw, slow, careful. “Get inside safe,” he murmurs. You nod. “Thanks… for everything.” As you step out, you don’t look back.

But if you did, you’d see him still watching. Still waiting.

Two days pass, but you can’t shake the way Rafe looked at you that night. The softness in his voice, the weight in his eyes. Like he saw you differently. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

You tell yourself it was nothing. That it was just a moment. That Rafe Cameron doesn’t do things like that.

But then— The doorbell rings.

When you open it, he’s there.

Standing on your porch, dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans, looking almost nervous. And in his hands—a bouquet. Not just any bouquet, but the kind that looks like it came straight from some overpriced florist. Deep red roses, white lilies, wrapped in a silk ribbon. Your breath catches.

“Uh…” You blink at him, words failing you. “Are you lost?” Rafe huffs a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “No.” He glances down at the flowers, then back up at you. “These are for you.”

You just stare. Because—what? After a beat, you slowly take them, fingers brushing his as you do. The petals are soft, the scent rich and overwhelming. “Rafe…”

“I know,” he cuts in, running a hand through his hair. “This is… not what you expected.” You nod, still too stunned to process. He exhales sharply, like he’s bracing himself. Then, finally—

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

Your heart stutters. Rafe looks away for a second, like this is harder for him than it should be. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, rougher.

“That night? Seeing you like that? It fucked me up.” His blue eyes meet yours, and there’s nothing cocky in them. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. “I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started caring. And it scared the shit out of me.”

You swallow hard, your grip tightening around the flowers.

He takes a small step closer, voice dropping even lower. “But you looked at me like I was good that night. Like I was worth something.” He scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “And I wanted to be that. For you.”

Your chest tightens, your pulse pounding. Rafe runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Look, I don’t do this shit. I don’t—” He gestures vaguely, like this is beyond him. “But I can’t not do this with you.”

Another step. Closer.

“So let me take you out. A real date.” His gaze softens, voice barely above a whisper now. “Let me prove I can be good for you.”

The world narrows to just him. His eyes, his voice, the plea hidden beneath it all.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.

Because this? This feels real.

[fawnwilde]

Could you potentially write a little something about reader traveling with Charles after Arthur’s death? Reader was in the gang, she is very sweet and friendly, and is good at getting people to do what she wants, while Charles is good at survival and keeping them alive. Together they travel, seemingly complete opposites but slowly falling for each other. Reader understands his need for silence, and Charles entertains her meaningless conversations. Charles is tired of being a lone wolf and finds comfort in having someone to look out for, and gains a sense of safety having her looking out for him. Maybe something about them around a campfire one night, maybe reader convinces Charles to have a drink with her and things get a little intimate for the first time, or fluffy idk! Whatever you want! Thank you very much

What Comes After I ⋆˚࿔

Charles Smith x reader

next

rating: explicit (18+)

This is such a great ask, thank you so much!! I took the prompt and kind of went crazy with it, so I hope you like it! <3

content warning: smut MDNI, angst, fluff, sunshine reader, period typical racism, friends to lovers, outdoor sex shenanigans, cunnilingus, piv sex, cuddlin n shit

word count: 4.2k

You were there when Arthur died.

The both of you had witnessed the gang’s demise, until it was only you two and John left. When it came to it, he had told you to leave with John. And you planned to, but you had a bad feeling when Arthur left your line of sight.

You found him on the mountain, beaten to within an inch of his life with Micah Bell standing over him. You tried to get in between them, willing to die to protect your friend. Micah looked ready to do that for you, if Dutch hadn't intervened.

But that brief kindness meant nothing to you when both he and Micah left, turning their backs on you.

Arthur told you not to worry, told you to leave in case Micah came back. But you refused, unwilling to leave him in his state. You held his hand as he succumbed to his injuries, his body too far gone to do anything. The both of you watched the sun rise, and you only allowed yourself to cry when you felt his hand go limp in yours.

Charles found you there, not too long later.

You were sitting beside your fallen friend, tears blurring your vision as you prepared yourself to bury Arthur. A shadow was cast over you, and you looked up to see Mr Smith, a devastated look on his face.

You weren't upset with Charles for not being there when it all fell apart. He had his own job to do, one which was personal to him. But no matter how many times you said that, you could tell he felt guilty for not being there to help when he was needed.

You buried Arthur together. Hands shaking with every pile of dirt removed from the ground, tears reflecting off your skin as you placed him in his grave. The two of you stood on top of the mountain for a while, unwilling to leave Arthur alone.

After a while, you felt Charles take your hand. You looked up at him, and he nodded, pulling you away.

You and Charles weren't close before. He joined the gang less than a year before the fall, where you had been a member since John had joined.

Charles was always kind to you. He was soft spoken when talking to you, his hands were respectful when he helped you off a wagon, and he sat silently beside you around the campfire, a calming presence. He was a friend, someone you could rely on, but only one of many.

Now, as if overnight, you were all each other had. And The two of you certainly made an unusual pair.

You travelled side by side across the plains. He atop his large steed, you driving your trusty wagon. The quiet roads between towns were only disturbed by your incessant talking. You never liked silence, and would often find yourself chattering away to an audience of one.

Charles would rarely contribute. He would hum in agreement if you asked for his opinion, or huff out an amused laugh at your retelling of an old camp incident. The most you would get out of him was when you would ask him a question about the surrounding nature, or about the type of bird that landed on your bench. You enjoyed the days where he would tell you about his culture.

Sometimes you wonder if you annoy him. He was a man of few words, while you were always known for your silver tongue and lively personality.

Whilst you had been a part of the gang for years, you were never there for your fighting abilities. You knew how to shoot, sure, but your skills were limited. You were a natural born sweet talker, and a personable aura that got people to trust you. Dutch often had you working as a distraction, or out gathering information. But you liked to think that your main job was being the voice of reason, or a friend to everyone in camp,

But while you could sell milk to a cow, you couldn’t defend yourself against a real threat. The others would protect you in danger, and now that Charles was your only companion, he was always your saviour. He would defend you from the occasional coyote, he would hunt food to keep you from going hungry, he would be by your side if a stranger got too comfortable with you.

Charles had become everything to you, but you were scared that in the days where he would be silent, he was regretting taking you with him. You weren't much use save for your chatter, which Charles clearly had no use for.

You sometimes fear you’re a burden.

Today, as the sun had started to set, you were glad to see a town on the horizon. A town meant you could get a drink somewhere, maybe a hot meal that Charles’ wouldn't have to catch for you, and a room with a bed.

You were also thankful that Charles would get a break from you.

It was a self deprecating thought, you know, but you hoped that if Charles had a night away from you, it would make it easier being on the road again with you the next day.

You look over at the man in question, noting the deep furrow in his brow, and his tight grip on the reins. He was tense, and you shrank in your seat worrying if you are the reason.

The two of you hitch your horses outside of a run down saloon. You begin climbing down from your wagon, accepting the hand Charles offers.

“Thank you.” You smile, and he nods.

The two of you walk into the saloon. It’s dim,and smells strongly of liquor and sweat, but you cannot help but feel giddy at the sight of food being served from the bar.

“I'll apologise in advance, I don’t think I’ll be too ladylike when I get a meal.” You laugh, looking up at Charles as you make your way across the floor, “I could eat a horse right now.”

“Don’t tell me you’re bored of what I get us already.” Charles huffs, an amused smile playing on his lips.

You smile even brighter at his jest. You take a seat at the bar, warily putting your hands on the sticky bar. Charles hovers beside you, surveying the saloon with focused eyes even in the low light.

The bartender wipes a rag over a glass, raising an eyebrow at the odd pair of you, “What can I get you?”

You order food and a shot of whiskey for yourself. Charles declines a drink, eyeing the bartender warily as the other man stares at him for too long. You place a couple of notes on the bar before Charles touches your shoulder.

“There’s a hotel across the street, I’ll go and get us a couple of rooms.”

“You don’t want to eat here?” You ask, confused.

He shakes his head, “I'll figure something out. Don’t feel like staying here too long.”

You nod with a sad expression. This is one of the worse areas, plenty of white patrons glaring at Charles. It makes you sick, judgement against one of the best men you know simply for the colour of his skin. You understand why he wants to leave, and touch his arm gently in reassurance.

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression, before nodding and turning to leave.

The bartender leaves you your meal, and you try to eat without feeling down about being alone. You enjoy Charles’ company, and you always feel safe when he’s around. You down your shot, feeling a prickling sensation at the nape of your neck.

The feeling of being watched.

Turning your head, you make eye contact with a man. He’s tall and gangly, face red with sun burns. He smiles hungrily at you, dry lipped and yellow stained teeth. You shudder, turning back around and trying to make yourself even smaller.

A presence appeared at your side, and you hoped that Charles had changed his mind and come back. But no, as you turn, you come face to face with the unnerving man from before.

He licks his teeth, looking you up and down with a predatory grin, “Never seen you around these parts, girly. Where’ve you come from?”

Disgust crawls up your spine.

You lean away from him, grimacing.

“Aw, where do you think you’re going, kitty? Come play with me.” The man reaches out, his fingers brushing against the bare skin on your shoulder, before his hand is snatched away.

You gasp as Charles comes into view. He towers over the other man, who’s face drops when he looks up at your rageful friend.

“Get your hands off of her!” Charles shoves the man back, sending him crumbling and cursing.

You gasp as Charles takes your hand, leading you firmly but gently out of the saloon. Patrons stare as you leave, whispering amongst themselves at the chaos.

You’re led across the street, Charles’ hand in yours the only warmth protecting you from the chill of the night. He walks briskly, a sneer on his lips. You hold onto him tighter, letting him lead you into the hotel and up the stairs.

He takes you to one of the rooms, unlocking it and gently pulling you in. Once the door is closed, he deflates slightly, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so angry.” Charles says softly.

You shake your head, “You've got nothing to apologise for. You saved me again.”

He smiles sadly, shrugging as he makes eye contact with you, “It's been a long day.”

You look down at your joined hands, surprised to see him still holding it. He lets you go, almost hesitantly, before taking a step away from you.

“You should get some rest. We’ll go at sunrise, get away from this town.” Charles growls the last word, eyes flashing as he remembers the man from the saloon.

Nodding, you clasp your own hands together. He turns to leave.

“Goodnight Charles.”

“Goodnight, dove.” He says gently, the nickname he sometimes uses for you making you smile.

The door closes behind him, leaving you alone and rubbing at the hand he held, missing the warmth he provided.

The next morning, you meet Charles outside the hotel. He feeds both of your horses apples, talking quietly to them with an easy smile on his face.

You join his side, exchanging greetings before heading off.

The journey starts normally, you retell a story of when Arthur and you stumbled upon an O'driscoll hide out and had to hide in a couple of fox holes. Arthur got stuck and you had to dig him out while a mother fox almost bit his nose off.

Halfway through the story, you notice Charles looking tired and weary, and anxiety creeps up on you again, worried you’re annoying him again.

A fork in the road separates the path in two directions. You pull your horse to a stop, a sigh deflating you.

Charles halts as well, looking over at you.

“Charles… look, maybe we should..” You start, voice trembling. You can’t look at him keeping your eyes low as you try to sift through your thoughts.

He says your name softly, walking his horse closer to our wagon.

“Maybe we should go our separate ways.” You choke out, “I… I can’t stand making you feel miserable. I know you feel an obligation to me, us being the last two left, but you shouldn't feel the need to stick around. I want you to be happy, Charles.”

You sit in silence. Your eyes remain on the dirt ground, a tear falling down onto your skirt.

Charles sighs, murmuring your name again, urging you to look at him again.

“You don’t make me miserable.”

Looking up, you lock eyes with him. He looks ashamed, guilty for making you feel this way.

“Im sorry if I seem miserable. But I’m not. I like listening to you talk. You make my days happier.” He shrugs, looking away and off into the distance, “So. I don’t think we should go our separate ways. I'll be too bored.”

With that, he clicks his tongue, spurring his horse forwards.

“Now, what happened when the fox found Arthur in her home?” He asks you.

You watch him for a moment, feeling happiness rise in your chest again.

After that conversation, things became infinitely better with Charles.

Knowing that you didn’t annoy him and that he enjoyed your talkativeness made you embrace your own personality around him. Your days were filled with easy conversation, enjoying the scenery surrounding you both.

Charles made more of an effort to engage with you, but you often reminded him that he didn’t need to change himself for you, you liked him just the way he was.

You loved him just the way he was.

You didn't tell him that. You realised it while the both of you were taking a break from travelling.

A deer calf had gotten trapped on the edge of an embankment,it’s mother panicked and erratic. Charles climbed down and rescued the baby deer, moving swiftly but gently.

He managed to renite the family without causing any more stress, taking his leave as the mother cleans her young.

As Charles mounted his horse, a buck approached the doe and calf, checking over the baby and mother. The small family looked to you and Charles, before retreating back into the woods. The buck lingered, before it followed his family.

He wondered aloud about the buck, explaining to you reincarnation and how he believed that maybe the buck was Arthur, and the doe and calf, the family he lost. He shrugged off your skepticism, stating that he just hoped Arthur would find happiness in another life.

You realised you were in love with Charles Smith in that moment.

The two of you had set up camp in a small clearing, a winding river surrounding you and giving you somewhere to fish.

You got you both dinner, and helped Charles start a fire.

Once dinner was eaten and the sun had set, you sat back and watched him as he stoked the fire. The flames lit his face stunningly, his strong brow and full lips casting moving shadows, his dark eyes tired but focused on the task at hand.

You reach into your satchel, looking for your journal to do a quick sketch of him. Your fingers brush against something glass, and you almost exclaim in glee when you pull out a bottle of whiskey you bought a few weeks back. It's unopened, the opportunity to pour a glass never appearing.

Tonight would have to do.

You unscrew the lit, nose wrinkling slightly at the harsh odour immediately released. Taking a quick swig, you wince at the burn, but grin at the warm feeling it immediately provides.

Charles looks up, and you wave him over.

“Come on, come drink with me.” You smile, shaking the bottle gently.

He raises his eyebrows, looking between you and

“I don’t think so.” He chuckles, grabbing his knife and a block of wood to whittle.

You sigh, frowning.

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Charles Smith.” You say, exaggerating your disappointment to guilt him to join you, “We’re safe here. You can relax for a night.”

Charles huffs through his nose, glaring at you half-heartedly “And if tonight is the night we finally get attacked by a pack of hungry wolves?"

“Then I will defend us.” You say with faux stoicism.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” You giggle, grabbing both of your tin cups.

He laughs, eyes crinkling with a large smile, “Fine. One drink.”

One drink turned into two, which turned into three, and… you lost count at six. The two of you were lay on the grass a few feet from the fire, laughing at a story you were telling about when Sean tried to do a heist alone and somehow ended up getting chased all the way back to camp by a pack of hungry dogs. Your side hurt from laughing, and Charles’ own laugh echoed around you.

While you sighed and stretched, you could feel Charles’ eyes on you. He's silent for a moment, and you open your mouth to ask him what's wrong, before he speaks.

“I’m in love with you.” He murmurs.

You giggle, turning to look at him. He’s already watching you, his normally serious face relaxed with the effects of the alcohol.

“Really?” You ask, turning over fully to lie on your side.

Charles turns too, nodding. He reaches out, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He watches your face, his eyes travelling over your features before landing on your lips.

“Could you love me?” He whispers.

You smile, “I already do.”

Who moved first is anyone's guess, but it doesn't matter as is hips meet yours. They’re warm and firm, and better than you dreamed.

You sigh against him, and Charles deepens the kiss, your tongues meeting in a pleasant battle.

He rolls on top of you, settling between your thighs and dragging his hands over your body. Charles is careful with his touches, feeling your skin with reverence and affection.

You wrap your arms around his neck, winding your fingers in the thick hair cascading from his scalp and fanning around both of your faces. He groans appreciatively as you tug on his strands, his hips pressing flush against yours.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, feeling his large, solid member pressing against you. Charles grunts, kissing along your neck while he shallowly thrusts against you, seeking pleasure only your body can provide.

“Charles…” You moan, spreading your legs further and gripping onto him harder.

“Fuck, love.” Charles sits up on his haunches, admiring the sight you make. His eyes roam over you, his pupils dilated and lips swollen from your kisses.

His thumb rub soothing circles on your hips, his eyes locking on yours once more.

“Do you want this?”

“More than anything.”

A deep rumble emerges from his chest as his hands fly to your shirt, unbuttoning it before growing impatient and tearing it in half. You gasp, then whine as his hands drift to your breasts, caressing your flesh lovingly before pulling your chemise down to expose the skin to his eyes. His lips descend upon them, nipping and sucking marks and taking your nipples into his mouth.

Writhing beneath him, your hand return to his head, dragging your nails across his scalp and gripping his hair when he sucks on your sensitive skin.

His mouth travels lower, tugging your chemise down along with your skirt and bloomers, leaving you naked beneath the moon. Charles inhales sharply as he admires you, groaning as he kisses every inch of skin accessible.

With a swift motion, he pulls your thighs over his shoulders, looking up at you for permission. You nod and whine down at him, “Please, Charles-”

He needs no further invitation, plunging his face into your cunt. Gasping, your neck arches as he latches onto your clit, rolling his tongue and teeth over it thoroughly. Stars appear behind your clenched eyes as Charles worships your pussy, devouring you like a man starved.

One of your hands grips his hair, while the other claws at the dirt below, feeling your orgasm approaching embarrassingly close. Charles alternates between plunging his tongue into your slick hole and sucking your clit into his mouth, making you pulse and writhe against his mouth. He groans against you, his own eyes rolled back in enjoyment.

As you reach the precipice, your hand clenches in his hair, sharp enough to possibly hurt, but he doesn't cease his task. He knows you’re close, and puts pressure back on your clit, his teeth dragging across it.

You cum with a cry of his name, back arching and cunt leaking like a faucet. Charles kisses your cunt as you come down, murmuring praises against your thighs.

“Are you alright, my dove?” He asks, crawling back on top of you and cupping your face, eyes looking over you with love and pride.

You nod, a tired smile on your face. “Mhm.” You reach down, cupping his bulge and causing him to groan, “Want you.”

“Think you can handle me?” He's not cocky with his question; you can tell he is sizable against your palm, big enough to rip you apart if he's not careful. But you trust him, and need him in this moment.

“I can. Made for you.” You smile, kissing him again softly and unhurried.

Charles groans, sitting up to pull off his shirt. Your hands wander over his firm chest. His skin is warm, muscles rippling with his haste to get undressed. He's littered with scars, and you admire them, caressing your fingers over them. He can see the love in your eyes, and it makes him swell with happiness.

He shoves his trousers down, tossing them away to land with the rest of your discarded clothes. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. It’s above average in length, but as thick as your wrist and curving upwards. The tip is an angry red and leaking, eager to fill you up.

“I’ll be gentle.” Charles says, noticing your awed expression, “I'd never hurt you, my love.”

“I know.” You smile, taking his face in your hands to pull him down for another kiss. It's slow and meaningful, as he leans back over you with your thighs around his waist.

You can feel him nudge against your entrance, rubbing against your clit as he gets comfortable. One of his arms holds him up beside your head, while the other reaches down to grasp himself in hand.

The both of you look down as he lines himself up, twin groans escaping you as he pushes the tip in. You’re wet enough for him to slip inside easily, inches disappearing inside you agonisingly slow. It’s a tight fit, and your hand grips onto his forearm beside you at the fullness.

Charles curses as he bottoms out, his other man grasping yours as he takes a second to bask in the feeling. You watch his eyes roll shut, his chest heaving. Leaning forward, you kiss his jaw, nudging at his flushed skin.

He presses his face into your neck, pulling out only to fuck back into you, pleasure shooting through your whole body. You grasp onto him, moaning out as he repeats his shallow but hard thrusts.

The alcohol mixed with your joint yearning brings you both to the edge quickly, your knees against Charles’ chest as he moves faster and faster, the wet sounds of your coupling with your gasps and his grunts.

“Fuck, feels so good…” Charles grunts against your shoulder, speeding up his thrusts as he chases his climax.

The cord inside you winds unbearably tight, your own end getting closer with every time his tip bullies your g-spot. His hand leaves yours to disappear between you, pressing rapid circles against your clit.

“Need- need you to cum with me, my love… please, please cum with me.”

You cry out, locking your legs around him as you shake beneath him, your cunt squeezing him tighter. A harsh thrust has you falling over the edge, biting down on his shoulder as your vision blurs and you ride wave after wave of euphoria.

Charles groans, hips suffering, “God- where, my love?”

“Inside. Please, Charles, inside me.” You mewl.

Barely a second later, Charles shoves himself fully inside you, grunting out your name as he empties himself within you. He collapses against you, being wary of his size and not lying on you too long, falling to his side beside you.

Exhausted and sated, you lie boneless and ready to sleep. With your eyes closed, you can hear Charles move around, and can feel him pull a blanket over you both. He pulls you to his chest, kissing your hair.

You fall asleep as he murmurs how much he loves you.

The sun rises on a new day, and you lie awake nestled in Charles’ arms.

His face is peaceful, mouth set in a small smile. You wish you could capture the image and keep it with you forever, never wanting to forget how beautiful he is now he's yours.

The hard ground presses into your hip, and you squirm slightly to get more comfortable. Charles huffs, eyes fluttering awake to see why you were moving out of the cocoon of his arms.

“Morning.” You whisper, brushing you hand over his cheek.

He smiles as his eyes focus on you, turning his head to kiss you palm, “Morning.”

“Any regrets?” You ask, though you know the answer.

“None. You?”

“Only that we didn't do that in a bed.” You joke, grimacing at the hard ground below you.

Charles chuckles sleepily, pulling you over and on top of him. His body is infinitely more comfortable, and you sigh contentedly.

“We’ll have a bed. In our own home, one I’ll make for us.” He murmurs, kissing your head

You drift off again, warm and safe, wrapped in Charles’ arms as he softly talks about the life you will have.

Both of you can't wait for the future.

AN/ Like I said, I went crazy. I really hope you liked it!! Mwah x

[winterwhisperz-blog]

Ignore how this is my first hc in like…awhile

IM A LIL RUSTY PLS HAVE MERCY

So hi <33 it’s nearing Valentine’s Day which means “omg what would the ts lis do for Valentine’s Day??”

These are far from perfect but I hope you enjoy !! :D

Valentine’s Day In Eridia

Warnings: Rustyyy, a lil suggestive in some of them but nothing too bad, Ais is mentioned to be a lil depressed,and Probably ooc !!

Notes: Gn reader, fluff!

Mhin

Starting with my favorite hshshshs

Mhin isn’t one that usually celebrates things—they don’t see the point. They’re living in an apocalyptic world they need to survive not waste time on chocolates and the stress of making the perfect evening.

But then there’s you…and they end up doing a lot of ‘unnecessary’ things for you even subconsciously.

Despite their grumblings, they do end up finding out how to celebrate.

STAR GAZING !!!! Duh !!

Simple and sweet, just putting aside time for you two to be close and gaze at the night sky.

Butbutbut !! I had an idea !! That may be just utterly silly but I’ll try to make it coherent.

Imagine this okay !

Mhin goes to visit you, shoulders hunched as they try to avoid getting pushed around by the massive crowd. The music is loud, boisterous, too much.

And you realize that when you find them trying to withhold murderous rage in a dark corner.

You had wanted to try out dancing, but you know the crowd in the Wet Wick is going to make that impossible to enjoy. For either just Mhin or both of you if you also don’t like crowds.

So you go to your favorite spot instead. the place you usually watch stars at.

And idk ?? I always pictured that happening on a freaking roof because I personally want to hang out on a roof but you can imagine something different if you want.

The music can still be heard from below, but it’s far more muffled and bearable.

SO !!! okay if this is cringey spare me please LOOK AWAY !

Hem hem…dancing on the roof !!

The music is loud enough for it to not be awkward hshsh-and the moon is out, the stars are clearer than you’ve ever seen them

And it may be silly but it’s the good type of silly okay. The 3 am sleepover type goofy.

You’re having pointless fun. Dancing in a world that’s dying more each day. You’re both cursed beyond a known cure. But you, and surprisingly even Mhin, forget that for a night.

OKAY THAT WAS SUPER LONG MY BAD

Can you tell who my favorite is

Leander

the absolute OPPOSITE of Mhin

He goes ALL out. This is not everyone’s holiday anymore. This is YOUR holiday. His and yours. This day is about only YOU two now.

You open your door and his stupid face is already there with arms holding a mountain of presents.

“Omg how did you afford all this??”

HES RICH !!! STUPID RICH BOY

The presents range from chocolates to a new wardrobe. Especially couple outfits. Especially VALENTINES DAY SPECIFIC couple outfits.

If you’re not comfy with that tho he’d be okay with that too. “As long as people know ur mine it’s fine with me ☺️” *smacks him*

After presents he wants to carry you downstairs. (If ur taller than him you can carry him downstairs. Actually if ur smaller you should still do it. Leander scarf.)

The bloodhounds withhold their dread for the day ahead because he is DOWN SO BAD

Heart shaped breakfast

Pink drinks (don’t drink them)

Love poems

KISSES !

When it’s evening the bloodhounds bust out the violins and candlelight. (When someone goes out of key Leander smiles at them like: 🙂” and they get pulled from the stage.)

Then to finish it all off, he shows off his magic by conjuring a trail of rose petals that lead upstairs.

You wake up the next morning and Leander is like “): you still love me right? Even tho it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore right?”

Ais

Ooooo this is tricky

Ais is very emotion-driven, but he’s not great at expressing those emotions.

He may try to do something classy for you (by Ocudeus’s command because I love that vision)

But it’s obvious he’s uncomfortable and unsure, so you have to tell him you’ll figure out how to celebrate (if you even want to) this day your own way and not what is socially expected.

He mainly just wants you. He wants time with you, to feel you, to hear you and most importantly, relax with you.

You quiet his mind, and so all he really wants is your presence.

Mainly all you do is cuddle, eat together, have a romantic sparing match 🥰✨ and maybe even take a nice bath together.

He loves having his hair washed by you—maybe he even forgets to do it sometimes due to those unseen battles you know he has—and ahh frick I forgot we have cursed hands.

Maybe you wash his hair with your toes idk.

Or wear like those !! Rubber gloves !!

Point is

It’s way more natural with you guys. A domestic routine that you slip so easily into.

It’s a day without any stress, and focused solely on the two of you taking care of each other.

And of course, you don’t forget to get Valentine’s Day treats for all the soulless <33 (especially for Princess because duh)

Kuras

Another toughie!

I can’t decide if he has a hard time because he busies himself with work or since he’s had so many relationships since he’s immortal he knows to set aside that time

To make it easier for me let’s just say he busies himself.

He’s extremely hard on himself so I can picture him thinking he’s undeserving of even celebrating in the first place. (If we’re ignoring him making a cake for Mhin shshsh)

And maybe his heart is just tired.

He’s had lovers, he’s watched them go, and with you? You’re different to him somehow.

He doesn’t know if he should indulge in these feelings. If he can handle the heartbreak again.

Luckily you know Kuras well enough by now to see the guilt and doubt before it digs itself too deep.

With help from Ais, Mhin, and Leander (he inserted himself but also he’s a peacemaker between Ais and Mhin lmaohshs) you manage to convince Kuras to leave the clinic in those there’s hands and just focus on you two.

I like to think Kuras starts out more somber. He’s quiet. Only a small twitch to his brow warns of any building anxieties.

To set the scene more I kinda picture him like ?? As a calmer Julian Devorak in this situation ahshshs just in the way he’s like ‘do I deserve this?’

At one point you take his hands, “Kuras, Talk to me.”

He tries to deny it, to hide it gently and inconspicuously. But you know him. And the Angel can no longer hide his fear from you.

You take him somewhere quiet, where you can sit down and just enjoy each other’s company. Maybe you watch the sunset and like ?? You remind him that you aren’t going anywhere. Not now.

He spends more time just kinda cupping your cheeks, memorizing your face with caresses and soft touches.

When you get home, he wishes to memorize the rest of you too. If you have to become a memory one day, he wants it to be one that consumes him.

Vere

Thought this was gonna be tricky because vere is my ENEMY when it comes to these but !! I actually have a few ideas !!

Doesn’t see the point in sappy old VALENTINE’S DAY

What? You expect him ? A GOD a DEITY to lower himself to a pointless little human tradition?

“You can celebrate me everyday 🙄 why wait ?”

But you know it’s really just because he’s uncomfortable with the idea.

Similar to Ais, he’s more of ‘actions instead of emotions’ and this is a sign of commitment! And he’s still very unsure how to proceed with that sincerely.

And maybe even the day hits some sore spots—if the theory he had a past lover is correct —

He’s just scared. And hiding it by being snarky.

So just give him time to adjust. He does come around. Especially when you don’t start with anything too deep.

You write him small notes. Nothing too sappy but loving. Maybe you add a few puns you know he’ll laugh at.

But then…*evil laugh* after he’s been used to this, and is more comfortable in the relationship—

He spoils you soooo bad

Maybe he even goes overboard with it lmaoshshs.

He turns it into a whole week of just celebrating you. (Not as loudly as Leander, though. He wants to keep it secret so ya know—the Senobium doesn’t ruin it)

Spa day but inside, he wants to see you with any part of his clothes on. He’s far more touchy—he rubs his face on you like a cat HSHSH

And just a looot of time in bed. Doesn’t even need to be sexual, he just wants you close. His treasure. His his his his.

Im becoming a vere girlie and I’m so unwell

OKAY WE’VE REACHED THE END WOOO !!

I hope you enjoyed <33 if this was cringey….🥺 pls don’t murder me I’ll give you ten dollars