#this is like half the bottle of colouring

[petermorwood]

ROFL!

For just a second I thought this meant sake put through some sort of drinks carbonator.

NB, that's not a recommended practice since wine of any kind gums up the works, and in any case responds far too enthusiastically - on the walls and ceiling enthusiastically - to being squirted full of CO².

Voice of experience, can you tell? It took ages to clean up, and the kitchen smelt winey for a week because it had been sprayed with nearly half a bottle. I'm still grateful I tried the experiment with white wine, not red... :-P

*****

I've been drinking sake since buying my first bottle of Hakutsuru Junmai at an off-license in Belfast, before heading off to spend a romantic evening with my ex watching "Shogun" (the Richard Chamberlain / Toshiro Mifune one, it was a long time ago).

She was bored with the show, disliked the sake and, what with one thing and another, the whole evening turned out like champagne left open too long.

Flat, and rather sour.

That, in retrospect, was the first teeny tiny inkling that we weren't quite as made for each other as my rose-(or possibly rosé)-coloured glasses had suggested.

*****

@dduane, however, is Very Partial to sake, and "Shogun" in all its forms, and indeed Japanese food in general. The sake never sparkles*, but the conversation often does. :->

( * Her favourite Mumm's Cordon Rouge champagne, on the other hand, sparkles very nicely.)

just had a convo with my friend. she mentioned she doesnt like sake cause its sparkling.

“wait, sake is sparkling? what have i been drinking?” i said. because i also dont like sparkling stuff.

i look at the sake bottle ive been drinking from for fun events for the past year. its vinegar.

i’ve been drinking strawberry flavored vinegar.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER NINETEEN: toothpaste

masterlist

*if you want the full sjap chososcamgirl experience click here!

Toothpaste.

That was all she needed.

The familiar jingle of the doorbell sounded as she stepped into the pharmacy, its ring echoing briefly before being swallowed by the soft hum of fluorescent lights above. She moved past the aisles with purpose, the faint scent of antiseptic and the bittersweet smell of charcoal lingering in the air.

At the counter, a brown-haired girl in her late twenties leaned against the register, lazily blowing out smoke from a cigarette.

"Shoko," her name tag read in bright red letters.

Pretty name.

"Hey," she muttered, a casual greeting as she passed. The girl didn't look up, but offered a half-hearted smile, her eyes unfocused as she exhaled smoke, lost in whatever thoughts dulled her day.

Toothpaste.

The word repeated in her head like a quiet mantra, the task simple, mundane. She wandered down the aisles with mechanical precision, her gaze flicking over shelves of medicines and other pharmacy essentials.

Her fingers brushed against boxes, but she didn't really look at them. She wasn't here to linger.

And then she stopped.

A stillness took hold of her. Her body froze mid-step, her pulse quickening in a way that had nothing to do with the cold air of the aisle.

In the distance, there was a figure. His back was to her, his face buried in his hands, almost in a gesture of resignation or frustration. His stance was familiar in an unsettling way, as if he was trying to disappear into the shelves, as if he were searching for something he didn't know how to find.

She stood there for what felt like an eternity, the hum of the lights suddenly deafening in her ears. The shape, the posture, the way his shoulders slumped-it was him.

For a moment, she debated standing there. Still, until he noticed her. 

Then, just as her mind screamed at her to stay, she saw him start to turn—his head shifting, eyes beginning to look her way.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and without thinking, she bolted. She pivoted on her heel, her breath quick and shallow as she darted toward the next aisle, her legs carrying her as fast as they could.

She whips out her phone in frustration and starts furiously typing.

“Hey.”  

She freezes, fingers hovering over the screen of her phone, her mind torn between the message she was about to send and the voice she recognizes. Slowly, she looks up.  

His gaze locks with hers.  

Megumi Fushiguro.  

Her eyes narrow, irritation flaring as she exhales sharply. Without a word, she pushes past him, intent on finding what she came for. 

Toothpaste.  

The aisle ahead is a chaotic jumble of brightly coloured shampoo and conditioner bottles—too many choices, too many distractions. She weaves through the sea of products, her focus narrowing to the search for the one thing she came here for.  

“Yn, please, I’m sorry.”  

The words make her blood boil. God, she hates the tone he’s using. It’s almost like he doesn’t get it.  

She bites her lip, trying to ignore the sting of his voice, but before she can refocus, she feels his hands settle gently on her shoulders. It takes all her willpower not to jerk away.  

Not now, Megumi. 

Finally, she spins around, giving him the sharpest glare she can muster.  

“What do you want, Megumi?” she spits, every syllable laced with frustration.  

His frown deepens, his eyes flicking to her lips, a hesitant tension hanging between them. He bites his lip, visibly unsure of how to proceed.  

“I just... I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”  

Her jaw tightens, and she shoots a pointed glance back at the shelves, pretending to be absorbed in the endless row of oral care products. She couldn’t care less about his apology.  

“I heard you the first time,” she mutters, grabbing the toothpaste off the shelf with one hand, her grip tight and fingers stiff. 

A beat of silence stretches between them. Megumi’s voice cuts through again, softer, but with the same persistent edge.  

“So... you’ll forgive me?”  

She scoffs, shaking her head with a bitter laugh, her patience wearing thin. Of course, he would ask something so dumb.  

Finally, her eyes land on the familiar packaging.

Toothpaste.

She picks it up, turning to face him with a glare that could melt stone.  

“No. And if that’s all you have to say, then I’m leaving.” 

With that, she brushes past him once again, this time with more force, walking swiftly toward the checkout counter. She can still smell the lingering scent of cigarettes, the same stale air she’d walked into when she first arrived.  

The conveyor belt moves slowly beneath her, and she places the toothpaste down with a faint clink. Her fingers automatically slip into her pocket, searching for her wallet.  

And then, she hears it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her.  

She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. Her shoulders sag, frustration mounting in her chest. Of course he’d follow me.

She groans internally, preparing herself for whatever nonsense he’ll say next.

"Will this guy ever get a fucking life?" she mutters under her breath, barely holding back an eye roll.

“I got it,” a voice called from behind her.

The cashier, unfazed by the tension hanging in the air, set her pornographic magazine aside and casually picked up the toothpaste. Her cigarette, still smouldering in her mouth, bobbed up and down as she scanned the item, her expression completely indifferent to the moment's awkwardness.

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied Megumi from head to toe, as if waiting for him to do something else.

"Oh shit, uh, and these too," he stammered, placing the box of Magnum condoms on the conveyor belt, nervously scratching his neck.

Yn's eyes flickered to the box and then back to him. "Big night planned, huh?" she said, her voice dripping with mock amusement as she glared at the condoms.

Megumi’s face reddened. "Oh, uh, those aren’t for me," he mumbled, his discomfort palpable.

She merely gave a disinterested "Mhm," chewing the inside of her gum as the cashier processed the transaction.

Megumi opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but was cut off by her.

"Did you guys want a bag?" she asked flatly.

"Yeah, please," Yn answered quickly, eager to leave the awkwardness behind.

The sound of plastic rustling filled the silence, only intensifying the tension. The cashier bagged their items with a practised, almost bored efficiency—as if this kind of transaction was the least exciting thing to happen all day.

Before Megumi could protest any further, a cloud of smoke from the cashier’s cigarette drifted in their direction. She didn’t even flinch.

“That’ll be 4250 yen, please,” she said lazily, still grinning, unfazed by the duo hacking their lungs out from the smoke.

Megumi quickly covered his mouth with his arm, pulling out his wallet with the sort of frantic haste only a person desperate to escape awkwardness can manage. He fumbled with his card, sliding it into the reader. The machine beeped.

Yn grabbed the bag in one swift motion, already on her way out of the store.

Megumi, looking flustered but relieved, gave a curt nod to the cashier before jogging after her, eager to leave the bizarre scene behind.

The cashier took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes following the two figures darting across the parking lot. She exhaled a thick plume of smoke, watching them with a detached amusement, tinged with something darker—something she didn’t care to name.

"Kids," she muttered to herself, shaking her head with a soft, resigned chuckle before turning her attention back to the magazine before her, as if it might shield her from whatever she couldn’t bear to witness.

—

The sharp click of shoes on wet concrete echoed in the cold night, piercing the stillness like a warning. 

"Yn, please!" Megumi’s voice cracked, strained with exhaustion and desperation as he closed the gap between them.

Yn kept her head down, hands shoved deep into her pockets, the cold metal of the keys biting into her skin. Her pace quickened, heart racing as though the faster she moved, the less likely he would be able to reach her, to make her turn around. She couldn’t hear him. Not now. Not when everything she’d been holding back was on the edge of spilling over.

"Megumi, stop," she whispered, voice tight, trembling at the edges. "I already told you, I—"

Before she could finish, she felt his hand grip her wrist, pulling her to a halt. The sudden force of it made her breath catch, and for a moment, she was still trapped between the pull of his touch and the weight of her own resolve.

She looked at him, and everything inside her stilled.

His eyes weren’t the same. They were darker now, heavy with something deeper than she had ever seen in them before. No arrogance. No defiance. Only raw, unfiltered regret. Sadness. The kind that seemed to press in on his chest, making it hard to breathe, to think. He couldn’t meet her gaze for long; his eyes flickered to the ground, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. Like his whole world was about to shatter into a thousand pieces, right there on the wet pavement.

"Yn, please," he whispered, voice breaking, so full of pain it made her chest tighten. "I never meant any of it. What I said... it was so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you. I know... I know it’s selfish, asking you to stay, but I can’t... I can’t lose you. Please." 

"Megumi, I—"

He cut her off, his voice hoarse, trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t said before. "And I know you told me you weren’t ready for a relationship, and I’ve tried to understand that, to give you space. I’ve accepted it, even if it wasn’t easy. But..." His words faltered, and for a moment, he looked like he might swallow them back down, like they were too heavy for him to carry. But then he breathed in, steadying himself. 

"But Yn... I would wait a thousand lifetimes for you. I would wait forever, if that’s what it took, because I want to be with you. I need to be with you. And not just because I miss you, or because I feel lost without you, but because... because, Yn, I want you. In a way I never thought I could want anyone." 

He paused, the weight of his own confession sinking in, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the space between them with the quiet intensity of a truth he could no longer keep buried. 

“So hate me all you want Yn, just please don’t shut me out. I’ve spent so much time thinking I could walk away, that I could let you go, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not anymore." 

His chest rose and fell with the effort of his words, like he was trying to catch his breath after running a race he didn’t even know he was in. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of his emotions breaking through. His hand clenched at his side, his knuckles white, as if holding on to something he might lose if he let go. His eyes were fixed on hers, pleading without words, desperate without asking. 

For the first time in a long time, there was no bravado, no walls between them. Only the quiet truth of a man who had finally realised that what he felt for her wasn’t something he could walk away from. And he was asking—no, begging—for her to see it, to feel it, too.

His grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers trembling. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes, as though the weight of his own guilt might crush him if he held her gaze for too long. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the torrent of emotion that was threatening to spill over, but it was there—raw, uncontained.

Yn exhaled, the weight of his words settling over her like a fog. She wanted to pull away, to shut herself off from him—everything inside her screaming for distance—but she couldn’t. Not with him standing there, broken, stripped bare in front of her. 

She shook her head slowly, the words thick in her throat. "Megumi... I could never hate you." The confession hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy with everything they had left unsaid. 

His eyes snapped back to hers, searching for something—anything—that would give him hope. And in that moment, when the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, a single streetlight flickered above them, casting his face in a pale, golden halo. She froze. In that soft glow, she remembered. She remembered how he had always been beautiful—how she saw him for the first time underneath the lucent lights with his guitar, to the man standing in front of her carrying nothing but a bag of toothpaste and condoms. For a fleeting second, it felt like time had both stopped and rewound, all at once.

A fragile shift passed between them, unspoken but undeniable. His hand slipped from her wrist, fingers brushing lightly against her skin as if afraid to touch her too firmly, as if the very act of reaching for her might undo them both. But then, with no more hesitation, no more words to hold them back, he kissed her.

It wasn’t a kiss of anger, of apology, or even of reconciliation. It was everything—everything they’d held back, buried too deep for too long. The crash of everything unspoken, everything broken, everything still raw between them. It was the kiss they should have shared ages ago, but neither of them had been ready for. It was the space between their words—the silence that had stretched so long, finally, finally given form. 

And in that kiss, there was no more distance. No more fear. No more hesitation. Just the weight of everything they hadn’t let go of, suddenly, impossibly, all at once.

extras!

• panda sent the ynmegumi gc a text like “plan in motion” so they all celebrated with a movie night (??)

• dunno know WHY they thought it would work

• it did so ig it’s okay…

• they knew their plan worked after ynmegumi turned their location sharing off LMFAOOOO

• shoko was definitely fan service for ree (are you reading this ree? are you?? are you?? did you like it??? do i get a kiss on the cheek?? do i??)

• but her working in the pharmacy isn’t THAT ooc so #cry

• she did not gaf about ynmegumi😭 she just let them have their moment

• brought her flashbacks to stsg gay asses #LetGodBeTrueQuickly🙌🙌

• yn wants to be main character soooo bad omfg girl give it up

• complete parking lot fight slash makeup scene cliché SUE ME

• btw they left the toothpaste out on the gravel for some reason so yn did in fact not get the stupid ass toothpaste

• got the condoms though😛😛😛

• yuta will definitely be questioning as to why they were open

• may or may not have done something not very sft in the car but hey!! you didn’t hear it from me…

a/n: aaaand we’re back!!! how’s everyone doing? good? okay? horrible? all three? same❤️ i hope this sufficed for taking a week off (i’m still in my shackles) this was probably my favourite chapter to write. gonna lie and say it didn’t make me teary eyed towards the end… champagne coast being the recommended song of the week even though it was a gag for the first chapter is a full circle moment. a bit of tzc reeferences sprinkled in the chapter bc i love those girls to death (even though mitch gave up on chapter 2… she didn’t even make it to lesbian digresser… #shitfriendmoment😒) ANYWAYS enjoy and see you guys tmr!! <3

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[simp-ly-writes]

Hope in a Bottle

─────── · ·

Pairing: AU!Silco x Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You had died many years ago, or at least that was true in Silco's world. He had learned to live without you but when graced with the opportunity to see you once again- he can't help but indulge.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, ANGST (but no seriously there are no happily ever afters), some fluff/comforting moments, suggestive themes.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: I cried like at least four times when writing this, this show HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD.

─────── · ·

Silco often thought about you in passing moments. These moments he remembered sharing with you amongst your friends and in the comfort of your arms used to be coated in blue that he would drown and surround himself in; but as your presence forever lingered in his mind blue turned to pink and rose-tinted glasses glossed over every moment- every memory with a certain degree of fondness that he would catch himself smiling even when no one was in the room.

You would always manage to light up the room, tell him a joke when he needed it most, told him off and raised him up. He put so much of himself into you into your presence that when you left... it was like he had to redefine who he was but forever remained unsuccessful.

Silco learned to live without you physically but that did not mean that your jacket was still not waiting for your return on the back of his couch or your glass still half-filled by the bedside. Your chair at the bar was always kept at the back, awaiting your return as you both shared kisses in the storage room. He would always remember how the stained glasses reflected in your eyes, the colour breaking across your skin in a forever radiant presence just like you.

Vander would catch Silco in these moments when wiping down the bar top or taking a walk down by the Zaun bay, overlooking the artificial lights and hints of sunlight being cast upon the black waters. Watching as the mans hand opened and tensed before falling back down to his side.

"You doing alright there. brother?" Vander asked in a soft tone as they both crossed over to topside for the day. Silco looked up, a strand of his hair falling from his salt and pepper hair- blowing with the wind. "We are always alright in the hope to be better, and when we get better we hope for it to stay only to be alright once again; stuck in the cycle of it all I find myself on the better side today."

Vander hums along to Silco's words as they stop at the various market stalls to see their offerings a few new bottles for the bar from another region across the sea and a bag of sweets for the kids in the area. The men are suddenly greeted with another body stepping in between the two and falling inline with their pace.

"And how are we doin'?" Powder asks with a wide smile, trying to squeeze her arms together to encompass both of their sides before turning around to walk backwards and hold conversation.

Silco winces as Power almost misses lamp post after lamp post by mere millimetres. "We are fine, just about to make our way back home actually. Anywhere your headed, young lady?" Silco teases, his voice sharing sincerity in every syllable.

Powder rolls her eyes before turning back around, head tilting over her shoulder before she disappears back amongst the crowd, "Going to see this new invention Echo has been telling me about!" Vander shakes his head with a loving stare where Powder had just stood.

"She's going to change the world one day, you know?" Vander says to the wind, hoping that it catches her ears but it only does Silcos.

"I'm afraid she already has for she is your own world," Silco comments, placing a hand on his friends shoulder before powering forwards. "I hate it when your always right," Vander teases before taking two long strides to catch back up.

"Well I perfected it only from the best." Both mens minds go directly back to you, smiling and twirling in the bar to a new record you had found on the topside. Somehow you had already known all the lyrics after this being your supposed first time listening to the piece.

"They always knew, huh," Vander says, looking down to catch Silco small smile. "Yes, but not everything I wanted them to..."

─────── · ·

When back in Zaun and at The Last Drop, bar-goers had already flooded the decorated space for tomorrow night it would be the inventions fair, a bar local already chosen to set the mood for the night and a few university members stationed with scholarships in mind.

Both Vander and Silco were excited to witness the extraordinary kids they knew have the opportunity to show their talents to others and hopefully the collective dream of them changing the world would come true but fate always had to make its presence known in the doorway.

Blue sparkled out of the corner of Silco's eye as he leaned against the bar top waiting to continue his conversation with Vander. A half eaten apple sat beside his notebook that he was picking away at while conducting the accounting for the month. His back burned with his age from being hunched over for so long as he stood up to stretch.

Laughs echoed throughout the bar, feet dancing against the wooden plank floors, drinks clashing and spilling against the tables as another gets thrown out the side door. Powder had left a few moments ago with Echo, a certain mischievous look in her eye that Silco did not find unusual at the time would only shock his system now when he caught from reflection in the glass of his amber filled cup.

Your name graced his lips, remembering the feel, imaging your warmth against his skin and to feel it, to see it. He thought to be surreal, to be going senile as he looked to Vander for support and only found him smiling with a wink before turning back around to serve another customer.

Your skin was a thousand colours coming to life in his eyes, his hand drifting from the back of your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, neck upon which you shiver and rest your forehead upon his own. "How I've missed you," words that he only hoped to hear, have only read to himself in comfort written by his own hand- a fantasy turned reality now spoken to truth between your very own lips that Silco had to claim.

You melted into his touch, decades without the familiarity- him haunting your body with memory of his touch now appearing as goosebumps in recognition. You smile against his lips, hand running up against the smooth fabric of his vest before lacing in the silver locks of his hair.

Out of breath, you both pant, hands still gripping one another tightly as if afraid the other would disappear once more. "I thought to have lost you, to be so alone for so long. Why is it now that you appear just when I was surviving once again off of scraps?" Silco asks into your ear, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. Even when in a crowded bar, it is only the two of you present in this moment.

"I would ask myself the same questions when I came back alive thanks to the technology developed in my universe and by what force I have yet to know, I am forever thankful for returning me, my soul, back to you to rest finally," you speak through tears mixing with Silco's silent ones dripping down his cheekbones and falling against your clothes that stain the fabric dark.

"I should thank that force as well," Silco murmurs, lost in your eyes, brushing away your tears. "I think it best we have the rest of this conversation elsewhere," Silco grabs your hand before pulling you out of the bar. The cheers and claps becoming distant as he leads you back to his apartment.

He locks the door behind you both, watching as you gently let go of his hand and walk around his space. Your hand feels the leather of your jacket still sat in the same place where you left it, against the couch in a forgotten moment of need. You continue towards the kitchen, seeing the various crayon pictures of Violet and Powder attached to the fridge who Silco explained to you before walking towards the bedroom. Your glass still waiting for you beside an unopened bottle you remember gifting Silco for his birthday.

"Why did you never open it?" You ask, fingers tracing around the neck of the bottle coated in a layer of dust you blow from your fingertips. "You said not to open it without you there to try it, I kept to my promise in hope for an impossible day like today. It was a reminder of not to drain my hope as many other's do."

All you can do is nod before holding the bottle in between your hands, a sickness suddenly washes over you as you take in Silco's form leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed, leg tucked over the other and the scar of his yellow eye glowing warmly- lighting up the room amongst the candles.

He expects you to open the bottle, you understand that in doing so means you are to stay but that is something you cannot do. Not when Echo and the Professor are building a time-machine, not when your world is about to erupt in ruins.

You want nothing more to indulge more than you already had into this word of perfection and wrongs written right but that would be a cruelty brought upon this world. You knew you shouldn't have gone up to him, kissed him, felt his skin upon you skin only to take it away like the hopes of everyone else who had died during this war.

But you were only human, your heart already shattered and in need of repair, of warmth and kindness but you would only be selfish just as much as those you were out to strike down. "I-I can't open the bottle Silco. I-" you start to sob, hands shaking before placing the bottle back upon the nightstand.

You bring your knees back up to your chest, breaths heavy as your head spins, blood starting to drip down your nose, the reflection of blue out of the corner of your eyes as you gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white as Silco runs over, falling to his knees as he begs to see your face.

"Please, whatever is the matter, darling?" Silco asks, the sweetness of his tone doing nothing but to further indulge your nausea as you spiral. "I shouldn't have come to you, have done any of this!" You shout, trying to shove the man away but Silco only stands, wrapping his arms around your body as you do your best to kick and shove him away.

You look over his shoulder, watching as the sunsets through the window and sheer blinds. "Silco," you sob, fingers digging into the material of his vest once again in a panic rather than in reverence. "Silco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this was not forever, that this will only be another memory and perhaps the once that hurts the most knowing that I left rather than was forced to..."

"Then let me hurt, allow me to bleed, allow me to weep for I have endless time for that but only a finite time to be truly happy. So please, indulge me, drink it all and leave me once more with the knowledge that you are out there somewhere in another place, alive. Please, please," Silco begs turn into whispers as you press your tears into his neck before leaving a lingering kiss.

"Until the sunrise we shall be happy in the night," you speak softly in between kisses, your vision still clouded in tears.

"Until the sunrise," Silco restates before capturing your lips once more and sighing heavily. The moons bask ignites you both, lighting the liquid in your bodies burn as you take pleasure in one another.

You feel him, your hearts and souls connecting, rekindling in what is only to be heartbreak that makes you both press harder into one another. Leave marks across each others skin and kiss them delicately afterwards. It is in you both taking a bath afterwards until the cold waters have you both frozen still in realization as the sun rises and fills the room. Its warmth lost as you pick up your clothes and leave your jacket leaning against the couch once more.

You stare at the empty bottle at the bedside and watch as Silco picks it up and looks at you through it was a wavering smile. "Goodbye, my love and know that it was always you my soul yearns for and you who I define myself as."

"I really wish this didn't have to be the end, Silco...." you try your best not to sob, chocking on your words yet standing firm in your positions knowing that comforting one another would only make the hurt worse than it already was burning. "...in another life, I can see how easily we could have had it all- could have been happy."

"I wouldn't want any other memories than the ones we share," you nod in agreement, your body shakes, skin burns in want as you reach for the cold handle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Goodbye, Silco, I love you, forevermore."

"And I you."

─────── · ·

The walk to Jinx's place is a long and cold one, a thousand pairs of eyes stare at you with their condolences. You refuse to meet any of their stares, knowing that by just one look you would be running back into his arms for comfort.

Echo and Heimerdinger are already there and waiting for you, Echo extends his hand and lifts you up onto the platform. A swirl of arcane magic mixed fits the seeds of that all-too-familiar blue have you floating with a scream as the Professor sacrifices himself with one last salute to you both. Echo holds you, the loss of today holding heavy yet his touch is not what you yearn for as you cry into his jacket, gripping the collar of it as colours swirl around your vision and you are brought back to the battlefield once more.

Bullets wiz past your had, another graces your cheek as your blood falls like tears against the broken pavement. The roar of a monster rumbles the ground as you sprint towards the closing barriers, throwing yourself over them and into a sea of dead blue enforcers.

Screams haunt your ears, echoing distantly through your memories and brought forth into reality as you step over cast aside limbs and guns. You watch as Vi ahed of you holds another as they take their final breaths, a machine gun makes you loose hearing in your left ear and next thing you knew, a burning sensation was coming from your right leg where a ghastly wound had planted itself.

Hoisting and forcing yourself to stand you carry forth with a limp and defend the entrance, holding cover and watching as the trojan horse gets rolled in through the barriers all you can feel is Silco's marks as you charge forwards with an unrelenting cry.

─────── · ·

Silco fell back into the bed and stayed in that exact same numb position until Vander came to find him, "You know, there was a part of me debating weather or not to distract you from 'em and theres a part of me now that regrets not doin' so."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways, the hurt of not seeing them when I got the chance to would have hurt just as much if not more. But I appreciate the sentiment, brother," Silco responds, rolling the cork of the bottle in between his thumb and finger.

"Finally drank it, huh?" Vander comments, picking up the bottle from the stand as gently as possible between his large hands. All Silco can do is smile, a singular tear dripping down his cheek that gets cast away, "yeah, something like that."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: so... what did y'all think?

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

blue food in celebration of the pjo show!!

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Month - August 2024

1.Negative Power Prices Hit Europe as Renewable Energy Floods the Grid

European power markets are experiencing a notable shift as renewable energy sources, particularly wind and solar, become a larger part of the energy mix. On Wednesday, power prices in several European markets, including Germany, dipped below zero due to a surge in green electricity production.

2. Taiwan introduces ban on performances by captive wild animals

Live performances by wild animals held in captivity, including performances by dolphins, tigers, and other non-domesticated mammals, will no longer be permitted in Taiwan under new Ministry of Agriculture (MOA) regulations.

3. FTC bans fake online reviews, inflated social media influence; rule takes effect in October

The FTC voted unanimously to ban marketers from using fake reviews, such as those generated with AI technology, and other misleading advertising practices.

The ban also forbids marketers from exaggerating their own influence by, for example, paying for bots to inflate their follower count.

4. Chinese drones will fly trash out of Everest slopes

Come autumn, Nepal will deploy heavy lifter drones to transport garbage from the 6,812-metre tall Ama Dablam, south of Everest. This will be the first commercial work an unmanned aerial vehicle does in Nepal’s high-altitude zone.

The heavy lifter from China’s biggest drone maker, Da Jiang Innovations (DJI), will take on tasks traditionally handled by Sherpas. Officials believe it will help reduce casualties on Everest.

5. Swiss scientists have found a way to use the whole cocoa fruit to make chocolate and not just taking beans and discarding the rest.

Kim Mishra (L) and Anian Schreiber (R) cooperated on the new chocolate making process

Food scientists in Switzerland have come up with a way to make chocolate using the entire cocoa fruit rather than just the beans - and without using sugar.

The chocolate, developed at Zurich’s prestigious Federal Institute of Technology by scientist Kim Mishra and his team includes the cocoa fruit pulp, the juice, and the husk, or endocarp.

6. Six-year-old boy found in Vietnam forest after five days

A six-year-old boy who was missing for five days has been found deep in a forest in Vietnam. Dang Tien Lam, who lives in the northwestern Yen Bai province, was playing in a stream with his nine siblings on 17 August when he wandered into the hills and got lost, local reports said.

He was found on Wednesday by local farmers who heard a child's cry while they were clearing a cinnamon field close to the forest.

7. Lego plans to make half the plastic in bricks from renewable materials by 2026

Lego plans to make half the plastic in its bricks from renewable or recycled material rather than fossil fuels by 2026, in its latest effort to ensure its toys are more environmentally friendly.

The Danish company last year ditched efforts to make bricks entirely from recycled bottles because of cost and production issues. At the moment, 22% of the material in its colourful bricks is not made from fossil fuels.

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[chaptersleftunwritten]

Pen Ink & Motor Oil

Blurb: Eddie has worked as a mechanic in Tucker’s busy garage for the past three and a half years and you have recently joined as the cute receptionist at the front desk. Based on this nonnie’s request!

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Receptionist!Reader

Warnings: Eddie is in his late 20’s, reader is in her early 20’s, swearing, pet names, smoking (cigarettes) , reader referred to as girl, Eddie has a filthy mouth and the reader likes it. Sexual tension, dom!Eddie, sloppy kisses, fingering, choking, public intimacy, 18+

-

“Would you like a cup of tea? Maybe some coffee?” Your hands rub together furiously, hoping the friction will heat the delicate surface of your skin. This morning played out like it always did between you and Eddie— you would advert your eyes away from his intense gaze and he would toy with the colour on your cheeks like a puppeteer.

“I’ll take a bottle of Pepsi if there’s one in the fridge? Please.” You couldn’t understand his willingness to drink such icy cold liquid when the mornings were already becoming so chilly. Especially in the garage, the freezing cement of the floor and the bare brick of the walls made heat easily escapable.

“You’re crazy,” Laughing you reach down into the small refrigerator behind your desk, plucking out a glass bottle filled with the sugary brown beverage and handing it to Eddie. He lets out what can only be described as a moan as he eyes the bottle in his hand with such admiration, his strong fingers twisting off the bottle cap with ease.

“Thanks, Cutie.” The metal head winks at you, his words leave his mouth with such charisma and fluidity that it makes your tired head buzz with excitement.

After a moment of ridiculous pause you finally clock back into reality, “That’s a cool party trick,” gesturing toward the bottle in Eddie’s manly hands he offers you a hum, smiling politely at you like he always does, “Doesn’t it hurt your hand?”

“Not really— I bet you could do it, if you tried.” He shrugs, his gigantic hand comes to clasp one of his breasts through the tarnished white fabric of his tank top, something you have recently realised he does a lot out of comfort and you can’t help the twitch of your fingertips as you long for the warmth of his soft inked skin against yours.

“Is there a lot booked in for today?” He leaves the bottle on the worktop, his creased boots scrape against the dusty floor as he inches toward your standing frame confidently. He peers over your shoulder, his strong nose is almost tickling the shell of your ear as he tries to read the schedule you had written up the shift before and your breath becomes trapped in the length of your throat at his close proximity.

Your thoughts are a scrambled mess as your nostrils fill with the brunettes intoxicating scent; subtle laundry detergent that smells like winter and clean linen, a fresh, almost minty, shampoo that radiates from his soft hair as it brushes your cheek and the smallest hint of cigarette smoke.

In your daze you blindly hadn’t acknowledged the fact that Eddie was basically bending you over the front desk. Your elbows were propped on the hard acrylic material, your ass perked up into the air and Eddie’s hulking frame was braced over you from behind, “Uhm…” You scream inwardly at yourself and your inability to form any sort of coherent sentence and thought.

“Uhm?” Eddie mocks, his voice deep and hushed. He lets out a small throaty laugh as his fingers dance over the neatly written page laid on the counter in front of you, “Can’t you read your own handwriting, Love?” Another sweet nickname that causes your legs to weaken.

He taps his fingertip on to the column that reads ‘Monday’ at the top of the grid and you can feel his wide grin against the back of your head, “Plenty of time for fun today.” Eddie purrs like a cat in your ear and your body involuntarily shivers at his breath against your neck.

“I’ll come check up on you in an hour or so, yeah? I think the first customer of the day will be arriving soon and I don’t wanna fuck this up.” It takes Eddie every ounce of self control he has to collar himself and retreat to the back of the garage where he can try and meet his deadline for the day. But in complete honesty, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His chocolate button eyes constantly flicking from the internal organs of a car to the swinging door that separates you from him. He wasn’t afraid to admit that he had developed quite a fondness for you— a little crush, perhaps. You were the nicest girl Tucker had ever hired; above qualified and the most beautiful. You might’ve been the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Gorgeous smile, kind eyes and not to mention a smokin’ bod. You always had this incomparable aroma lingering around you— a perfume he had never smelt before. It was addicting. You were addicting.

Two hours had passed now and Eddie was getting restless. He had already repaired what was needed to the engine and the customer was scheduled to be here any second— he just wanted to chat with you again, to make you laugh and see your skin flush with each of his not-so-discreet compliments. He loved spending time with you. You were the reason he looked forward to coming into work each day.

“Hey, Eddie?” Your gentle voice sings through the room as you poke your head through the door into his space and Eddie bounces to his feet a little too eagerly, his hands toying with an old oil covered rag.

“Yeah? You okay?” His body is reacting before his brain can protest and he is springing over to meet you by the door like an excited puppy. A smile grows on his face with every step closer he gets to you and he watches you shift in your shiny heels with anticipation.

“I’m okay!” You confirm, the palm of your hand resting on the large door which allows a gust of fresh hair to meet Eddie’s now dirtied up face, “The customer is here to check out their car— would you like to come and speak with them before they sign anything?”

“Should be all good to go, Princess.” Eddie winks at you and his heart flutters boldly at the sight of your rosy cheeks. He could never get enough of you— he could stare at you forever, “Hey, after this guy leaves… you wanna come and grab some lunch with me? I usually go to this little place down the street. They have pretty decent sandwiches and stuff.” His hands come to find his hair as he ties it up into a low bun and a sly smirk finds his lips as he watches you watching him, “It’ll be my treat?” Clocking your silence he presses you further for an answer and you nod your head like a startled deer, your lips slightly pouted and parted in embarrassment.

“I would like that!” You squeak, your hands fumbling with your white dress shirt as you try to flatten out the new wrinkles, “So… I’ll go and ring this guy up. And… and I’ll meet you out front?” You gulp loudly, wincing at the sheer volume of it and Eddie grins at you evidently amused.

“Sounds great. Just gotta scrub my hands and I’ll see you out there, Pretty girl.”

Eddie watches as you disappear from his view, he even strains his neck to try and catch a final glimpse of your ass as he desperately fights to calm his raging heart.

He feels all giddy on the inside. Soft and gooey like a chocolate brownie; only you have been able to make him feel that way. Eddie had a few notches in his belt, he slept his way through high school with chicks who kept him a secret but you… you knew you would flaunt him like he was a rare jewel. The last 7 months of your employment made you realise how drawn you were to the metal head. Eddie was precious to you.

And today… today you were going to tell him.

-

You skip alongside Eddie, your heels dragging along the pavement. You always wanted to look presentable and professional for the business, but these heels were killing your feet.

“You alright there, Love?” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flicking between your arched feet and your pain stricken face.

“Hmm? Oh! Yeah— I’m fine! These shoes are just kicking my ass.” You stop for a moment, sighing a quick breath of relief as the pressure eases from your feet and Eddie comes to stand in front of you. His lips curve upward into a grin and his eyes glitch with mischief.

“I can carry you? And you can take the shoes off?” You watch the muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his meaty chest and your jaw loosens on its hinges for a moment.

He wanted to carry you?

“Don’t be silly! I can muscle through this! Women have been doing this for centuries.” You snort a laugh, attempting to walk by his massive physique but Eddie’s large hand takes a hold of yours and in one swift and fluid like motion he is carrying you in his arms toward the small sandwich shop that is just out of view at the end of the street.

“Eddie!” You squeal, half laughing and half horrified. Your cheeks are set alight as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck tightly, clutching onto him for dear life out of fear of falling.

“Relax, I’m not gonna drop you.” You had never been this close to him before. You could see every freckle on his nose, every stroke of black oil and grease on his cheeks, every sprinkle and burst of light amber in his usually abysmal black eyes. The thickness of his eyelashes and his eyebrows and the pink plumpness of his lips.

You could study him for hours. You could hang a portrait of him in an art gallery— and yet it would pale in comparison to the true thing. Eddie Munson was crafted carefully by Aphrodite herself. He was utter perfection. And you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Like what you see, Princess?” He smirks at you devilishly, his dark hues shift every few seconds between your gawking expression and the footpath ahead.

“What if I did?” Bold. Even for you, and it was amusing to watch Eddie’s confident mask fumble.

“Then I would have to agree that I also like what I see…” He stops walking, his eyes solely focused on you now and you shift under his gaze— wiggling in Eddie’s buff arms.

“You do?” You can’t help that his confession catches you off guard. You knew Eddie enjoyed your presence, it was evident in the way he would always make excuses to come through to the front and talk to you. Eddie never usually had cause to be at the front desk unless it was to hand a customer their car keys back— but he always found a way to weasel his way through.

‘Have you got a pen I can borrow?�� There was always one tucked behind his ear.

‘Did I leave any tools through here? I’m missing my screwdriver…’ He had plenty to spare.

‘Do you need any help with anything?’ He was hopeless when it came to schedules.

‘Hey, is there any cold ones in the fridge today?’ He knew there was.

‘You got the time, Sweet girl?’ He wore a watch of his own.

He knew how to make you smile and he did it continuously every single day with his perky can-do attitude and his admirable personality. Eddie Munson checked all of your boyfriend boxes. He’s good with his hands, not afraid to get down and dirty, he is scarily strong and stupidly handsome. If it weren’t deemed inappropriate you would worship the ground his work boots walked on.

“Don’t act so surprised— I haven’t been so discreet with what I think of you, Sweetheart.” He was right, but you also couldn’t fully believe him. Eddie Munson thought you were attractive? It made you wanna laugh.

“Y’know… I’m not feeling too hungry anymore,” There’s a glint of desire that shimmers in Eddie’s dark eyes and you match his lustful enthusiasm, “What’d ya say we head back? I wanna… show you something…”

And by ‘show you something’ he meant that he wanted you to see the back of your skull as your eyes roll from the feeling of him pumping inside of you.

“Let’s go… let’s go now!” You don’t care how desperate you sound as Eddie turns on his heels and flees back toward Tucker’s. You are a giggling mess in Eddie’s arms and he chuckles warmly alongside you. You both have at least 10 minutes left of your lunch break as you burst back into the office and the next customer is due soon so this will have to be somewhat quick…

-

You wish you could pinch yourself to ensure you weren’t dreaming but your hands were too busy snaking through the thick fluffy curls of Eddie’s hair. It doesn’t take much effort for his wet tongue to dominate yours in a passionate and needy kiss.

His strong fingertips grip the soft flesh of your hips and his hands are like a powerful vice as he clings to you hungrily, “Can I touch you?” He asks between laboured breaths and you nod with a sweet hum. You can feel the swell of his cock pressing against you and you couldn’t think of anything you want more than to have his hands roaming your body.

“Fuck— you’re so fucking beautiful.” His thumb traces the line of your jaw, settling on your chin where he demands that your eyes meet his, “Wanna fuck you so bad, but I don’t think we have time today, Sweet girl.”

You pout out your bottom lip and Eddie chuckles darkly at the sight, “Think my fingers will do, hmm?” He cocks a brow, his rough finger tips dance up the length of your inner thigh before he is clasping his hand over the mound of your underwear. He sucks in a deep breath at the contact, struggling to control the raging storm of his hormones, “I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea.”

“Me too.” You gasp as Eddie’s fingers start rubbing tedious and teasing circles over your clothed clit, eliciting soft breathy moans from you.

“You’re gorgeous and your moans are pretty too— how lucky can a guy get?” You whine and swirl your hips down to meet Eddie’s movements, your body craving more of his touch and the filthy man doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers past the lace of your panties.

Warm skin touching skin has your mind reeling with sin, “Getting impatient?” Eddie clicks his tongue, his free hand coming to curl around your neck. You welcome the action and your vision shifts as Eddie’s touch tightens on either side of your throat, “Tell me how good it feels, Baby.”

He punctuates his words by thrusting two of his long slender fingers inside of your aching slick hole and you release a dampened moan as your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

“Feels so good…” Your voice is a quiet whimper and Eddie shakes his head disapprovingly, his fingers curling inside of you and thrusting quicker and harder.

“Couldn’t hear you, Love…” His lips pepper kisses along your face until his mouth rests at the curve of your ear, “Speak up, Pretty girl.”

You feel as though you could cry at how good the tattooed brunette was making you feel. You hadn’t experienced anything quite like it before; all of this praise, the choking and the dominance. It felt good to let everything go— to give yourself to him.

“So good, Eddie! Feels so so good!” You’re a babbling, moaning mess beneath Eddie’s touch but you are beyond the point of caring as your euphoric release rushes toward you. Each skilled pump of Eddie’s decorated fingers leaves your walls clenching and your thighs quivering beneath you.

A wolfish growl rumbles deep within Eddie’s throat and he forces his knee between your thighs, leveraging you upright and keeping your back pressed against the brick wall.

“Gonna cum for me, Angel? Gonna cum around my fingers?” His pace quickens, if that were even possible and your eyes roll to the back of your head as your front teeth pierce your bottom lip, gnawing and nibbling at the plump skin like a desperate bunny.

You nod your head, but Eddie isn’t having any of it, “Words!” His fingers grab your face roughly and you open your lips in a pant, moaning greedily.

“Yes! Yes, I’m gonna cum! Please— fuck!” His chocolate eyes look fiercely into yours, dark and domineering; controlling.

Your orgasm shakes your body from the top to the bottom and you let out a noise that can only be described as a erotic scream and in a fit of slight panic Eddie pushes his hand flush against your mouth as you continue to ride out your high on his fingers.

“Shhh… gonna get us caught.” He offers you an egotistic toothy grin and your chest rises and falls with every intense breath you take in through your nose.

Eddie’s eyes flicker to the watch on his wrist, his eyebrows knitting in thought, “Looks like our lunch break is over…” He removes his hand slowly from your reddened and slightly swollen mouth, “Maybe we can continue this later…” a smirk never wavering from his face as he says, “Same time tomorrow, Princess?”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll

[benevolentbones]

Hi ✨️✨️

Emily's sister likes Reid and flirts with him a lot before asking him out and he's all shy.

your type | spencer reid x prentiss!reader

warnings: none really, alcohol consumption, flirting

word count: 1.7k

a/n: hi!! hope you enjoy nervous spencer :) love him. reblogs and comments appreciated <3

half team were sitting around the office, finishing off the last of their paperwork for the night, it was a friday night and a certain member of the team was growing bored of filing away the never ending pile of reports. hotch, jj and gideon had already left for the night, leaving the rest of the team to finish off the workload.

emily leaned back in her desk chair, her red long sleeve shirt complimenting her complexion as she tucked her dark locks behind her ears.

“it’s friday night- we should go out and do something fun. lets go to a bar.” emily spoke, interrupting the sound of keyboards clacking and paper shuffling.

“i agree, let’s get out of here.” derek grinned, standing up from his seated position to have a well deserved stretch, his shoulder making a popping sound as he did so.

“reid, you in?”

spencer adjusted his posture at the sound of his name, his head turning towards his colleagues.

“i don’t know guys- i kind of wanted to read ‘the history of torture’ by george riley scott.” he responded, scratching the back of his head.

“the history of torture? on a friday night?” derek shot spencer a confused expression.

“just a bit of light reading.” spencer shrugged.

“nope, i want you guys to meet my sister, she’s a bartender at this new place down the road. it’ll be fun.” emily stood up, grabbing her bag that sat under her desk.

“but-“

“you can read tomorrow, right now it’s time for you to socialise. morgan text garcia, let’s go.”

spencer found himself sitting in the backseat of emily’s car as she drove downtown, derek sat in the front. penelope had replied saying she would meet everyone there.

“i don’t see why the child locks were necessary.” spencer mumbled, pulling on the inside door handle.

“shh. we’re almost here.” emily pulled up next to bar, there was a group of people standing outside cigarettes resting between their index and middle fingers. clouds of smoke plumed into the night sky, through the hazy air a neon sign read ‘the wine seller’.

emily unlocked the car, stepping out and strutting her way to the entrance, derek and spencer following close behind. in the midst of all the smoke stood garcia, her blonde hair tied in space buns with a blue polkadot dress adorning her form.

“are we ready to party!” she exclaimed, clearly she had already had a drink or two.

everyone stumbled into the bar, immediately a wave of noise washed over them. i’m the centre of it all, people were dancing on each other flashing lights casting rays of colour over their sweaty bodies.

“is your sister cute?” derek questioned emily over the loud music.

she rolled her eyes in response. “you could say that.”

“what’s her type?” he grinned, scanning the bar.

“oh you’ll see.” emily chuckled.

spencer rolled his shoulders nervously, trailing behind emily who was making a b line for the bar. she called out to a girl who was facing the shelves full of liquor.

“y/n!”

you whipped your head around to see where the voice had come from, a grin immediately forming when you saw your older sister stood at the bar.

“emily! finally made it out of the office i see.” you chuckled, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the shelf and pouring it into a shot glass for the man that stood at the bar. he nodded as a thank you and made his way back to the dance floor.

“it’s busy in here wow.” emily muttered, eyes scanning the room as she rested her hands on the bar counter.

“mhm i sure know how to bring in a crowd, what can i get for you and… you lot?” you peered around at the three people behind you. penelope rushed to emily’s side giving you a big smile.

“oh right, this is penelope, derek and spencer, from the bau.” you gave everyone a small smile, your eyes lingering on the taller hazel eyed man who stood awkwardly behind emily.

“i’ll take a pink gin and lemonade.” she shouted over the music, you nodded with a smile and reached for the gin.

derek strolled over to the counter, eyeing you as you picked up a gin glass.

“i’ll just have a whiskey.” he shot you a grin which you returned.

“make that two.” emily added, rooting in her bag for her wallet.

you made the drinks and laid them out along the counter for the team to take.

“and for the cutie in the back?” your voice travelled to spencer who seemed caught off guard by your comment.

“uh- me? uh i’ll have i uh- vodka soda.” he stuttered out, heat rising to his face.

“whatever you want sweetheart.” you shot him a wink and began to make his drink.

emily turned her focus to derek who was sipping at his drink.

“i see why you wanted to bring reid here so bad.” he laughed, and then dragged garcia to the dance floor.

“y/n what time do you get off, will you have a drink with us?” emily asked, taking a gulp of her drink immediately feeling the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

“twenty minutes em, then i’m all yours.”

“come find me later!” your older sister yelled out, disappearing into a crowd of warm bodies.

you served up spencer’s drink, passing it to him. he tucked his hair behind his ear before reaching for his wallet to pay.

“don’t worry, it’s on me.” you shot him a charming smile which he returned.

“t-thanks y/n.” he reached for the drink, taking a small sip, before taking a seat at the bar. you raised your eyebrow slightly in surprise, not expecting him to take a seat.

you could tell he was very much out of his element, that everyone had just come from the office. he wore a white striped button up shirt paired with a pair of suit trousers, his tie hung loose around his neck. his big eyes wandered around the room before falling back on you, you had already moved on to making cocktails for a bridal party to his left.

spencer studied your form, your quick movements and ability to multitask in such a busy environment impressed him. you wore a tight black tank top along with a black miniskirt the ended just above your mid thigh, and a small black apron was tied around your waist.

he couldn’t help but stare at your figure as you rushed around the bar, your form fitting clothing showing off every curve to your body, in all honestly he was infatuated.

finally the rush had died down and you were making your way back to your side of the bar to polish more glasses, you noticed spencer’s intense gaze on you and smiled to yourself.

“you like what you see, dr.reid?” you questioned, poking fun.

he immediately pulled his fixed look from your body and up to your eyes.

“i- uh sorry.” he nervously sipped at his drink, feeling embarrassed.

“don’t be, you’re pretty cute yourself.” you shot him a small wink and he felt his face flush.

“so spencer, how are you liking working at the bau?” you quizzed, carrying a stack of glasses to the shelf behind you.

“uh- it’s good, i like that i can help people.” he muttered out a vague answer, which he followed with a question.

“a-and do you like being a bartender?”

you shrugged, wandering back to stand in front of spencer.

“it’s just a part time job, i’m studying criminal psychology right now in college, im in my third year.” this got his attention, he straightened his posture, taking another sip of his drink.

“oh really? that’s so interesting- what do you plan on doing after?” he seemed less anxious now.

“i’m not really sure, might do a masters- it was emily’s suggestion.” you let out a small laugh, spencer longed to hear you laugh more.

“i take it this isn’t really your vibe?” you stated, looking around the bar at people making out and dancing, spencer followed your stare. emily and penelope were in the middle of the dance floor cheering derek on who had now taken his shirt off and was swinging it above his head.

“uh- no not really, i didn’t really plan on coming here tonight, but prentiss- your sister, she kind of child locked me in her car.” he mumbled out, an awkward laugh leaving his mouth.

you pinched your eyebrows, shaking your head and letting out a joking sigh. “she’s trying to set me up.”

“set you up?” he repeated what you had said.

your face warmed as you began to speak, “i broke up with my ex over a year ago and was recently complaining about how i can never meet any decent guys at the bar, because- i mean look.” you gestured to a corner where a group of frat bros were downing their beers.

“and em said she knew someone who would be great for me.” you eyes landing back on spencer.

“you mean me?” he pointed to himself, still somewhat confused.

you nodded. “i mean she managed to guess my type exactly, can’t blame her there.” you now gestured to spencer, his face burning a dark crimson, and it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault.

“i mean i hope you’re single- and i’m not just aimlessly flirting with a taken man. that would be a little embarrassing..” you trailed off, rubbing the nape of your neck, your tank top lifted slightly revealing your midriff.

“i- i yeah i’m single.” spencer couldn’t quite grasp the fact you were flirting with him, on purpose. he honestly thought someone like you would either be in a relationship or have a line of much more attractive men just waiting to take you out.

you smiled at his flustered state, you thought he was adorable.

“well then, dr.reid, would you like to go on a date with me sometime? maybe a café or the park, somewhere not as chaotic as this?” you questioned, you were pretty confident in yourself, which was something that ran in your family.

“yeah…i would like that, a lot.” he smiled at you, you quickly jotted down your number on a piece of paper, passing it to spencer.

your eyes flickered to the watch on your wrist, a smile spreading across your face.

“time for me to clock out, darlin. i’ll be right back.” and with that you skipped off into the back of the bar to grab your things, your heart beating twice as quick.

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea @thedancingnerdmermaid

[captain-joongz]

Deserve you

Pairing: brother-in-law!Seonghwa x f!reader

Genre: smut, darker themes, it's a little angsty

Summary: Marrying into the Park family was already a curse in on itself, but the cherry on top comes when on your wedding night the clock strucks midnight and there's the wrong brother knocking on your honeymoon suite door. But being a mindless pawn in his game of revenge might not be the worst when he buys it out with pleasure beyond your comprehension.

Word count: 18.5k words

Warnings: unhealthy family dynamics, arranged/forced marriage, infidelity, Hwa is mean and manipulative, themes of revenge and resentment, humiliation and praise, very rough handling and manhandling, spanking, rough sex, blink and you might miss it choking, oral (f. rec.), multiple orgasms, hair pulling, pussy drunk hwa, unprotected sex, doggy, creampie, some breeding kink (would it even be my fic if there wasn't lol), squirting, biting and marking (another one of my staples), a tiny bit of body worship

A/N: it's only going to be 13k i said *insert clown emoji here* enjoy cause good half of this is pure porn lol, i wrote the smut scenes at like 3 am while i was ovulating and therefore i legally cannot be held responsible for anything inside. please do enjoy!! if you wanna, leave comments and reblog, i always love to see what you guys have to say! i recommend listening to lurk by the neighbourhood, that's what i was listening to while writing this

Annoyed, I looked over the decorated hall to where my groom was amusing himself with a bunch of his goons. Their boorish laughs carried through the five-star hotel’s restaurant and could be heard over the hum of conversation from all four corners of the spacious room. I watched, completely unimpressed, as they took another shot together, every other one holding a half empty bottle of some kind of liquor in their hands. Rum, whiskey, vodka, all the colours of the rainbow.

My attention was pulled away by yet another very uncaring, but still unnecessarily cordial congratulatory small-talk from some relative who I’ve either never met before, or it has been so long their face blended into all the other hundreds of people who claimed blood-relation to our family.

While pretending to listen to their sugary fake speech and distractedly shaking their hands, my eyes flitted over to the close family table. I couldn’t help the trace of cold rage and hostility that crept into my gaze as it landed on my father, who leisurely sat at the table pushing around some greens on his plate while holding an amicable conversation with Mr. Park, my so very enchanting and charming father-in-law. My mother sat expressionlessly next to him, ever the picture of a perfect wife, here or there entertaining some pointless chit-chat from Mrs. Park.

With disgust I watched these four interact with each other, the realisation that this is where I was headed as well slowly sinking in and making me sick to my stomach. I excused myself from the circle of insincere inquisitors and went to sit down at the head table, pretending to eat to gather my strength.

When four months ago it was announced to me that I would be marrying into the Park family, a shocked disbelief quickly melted into an absolute rage. Even knowing that we were a very high-profile family, generations upon generations of wealth and a steady successful conglomerate of companies keeping us near the very top of the food chain of the upper class, it would have never crossed my mind my father would actually sell me off like a milk cow.

Yes, arranged marriage was still very much a thing between these families, profit and merging of riches far more important than such a silly little thing like love, but I always made it clear to my father I didn’t agree with such practice, and I would like to choose my husband myself. There was an unspoken agreement between us that he would leave me free reign and I would decide between the sons of the families that were on our level and suitable for marriage.

And Parks were nowhere near my radar. Although there were two sons in the family, only one was eligible for marriage and he would be the sole heir of most of their father’s empire. That made him a favourite in my father’s eyes, but all the women around these circles knew to give him a wide berth. Notoriously known for his unpleasant character, spoiled behaviour and stupidness, no self-respecting woman would ever touch him with a two-foot pole.

And now I was married to him.

Of course I opposed the marriage. I cried and begged and raged, I bargained and threatened, but nothing swayed my father. He had already made a good deal and now all he had to do was threaten me that if I didn’t listen, he’d make sure I was cut off not only from the family, the family wealth, but also every respectable company in the city. No matter how many times I told him ‘anyone but the Park’, he’d never listen. Papers were signed, deal was made. I was sold. All that was left was coming to terms with the situation.

The Parks, while they kept their respectable front, were a family that rose to the level of the likes of my father very rapidly and somewhat recently. It was an open secret that most of their business happened in the illegal little dark corners hidden behind a few presentable companies, but what mattered the most was their money and influence. Even though there were a few skeletons in their closet.

Like the one that suddenly made eye contact with me from the close relatives table while I was pretending to enjoy the worst day of my life.

The eldest son of the Park family, Park Seonghwa.

Mr. Park, much like his younger son Yujun, also known as my amazing husband, was known for his unlikable character and somewhat unscrupulous ways and manners. Or lack-there-of. Before even officially meeting him at some boring dinner, I had already heard the mountains upon mountains of rumours about his womanising and misogynistic ways.

Therefore it wasn’t a great surprise when just five years ago a boy showed up on his doorstep, determined to claim a corner of his ever so elusive father’s paradise. Seonghwa was older than Yujun, but due to him being a bastard of a poor maid that once upon time was harassed by the master of the house into giving into him, even though he managed to weasel his way into Mr. Park’s graces he still wasn’t considered a good face of the empire, and so Yujun remained the main heir, with his older half-brother as his glorified henchman.

Back then, even though I wasn’t 18 yet, I was also privy to all the drama that went down with Seonghwa’s sudden appearance. Perhaps eager to please his father and buy his approval, he managed to beg a broken-down old hotel out of him and set to his path of a lonely businessman always chasing some old man’s praise.

That hotel? The same one we were sitting in today. Seonghwa proved to be a formidable force in the business sphere and managed to bring this place from the bottom of the barrel and turn it into one of the best establishments in the whole country. He has since bought a several restaurants and another hotel, skyrocketing into those same circles that looked down upon him still. Including his family. Especially since everyone knew Yujun was a useless fool that would no doubt tank his father’s business the moment he got his hands on it, which made Parks the laughingstock of the rich and the bored.

During the four months I spent tagging along with our mothers and a wedding planner, trying to put together a last-minute grandiose event for half the city, I saw a lot of him. He always hung around the Park residence or the various lounges we chose to sit and chat in (which I later realised was because he owned them). When he graciously offered to host the banquet in his hotel, I was grateful to him but held no other regard to his actions.

But there seemed to be a strange connection between us. Maybe it was that I saw the same resentment reflected in his eyes when he looked at his own father, or maybe because he seemed to be the only other self-aware person here. We never spoke much, but sometimes we would catch each other’s eyes and see the same emotion in them.

In present time, I finally managed to tear my gaze away from his intense one, seemingly trying to burn through me with a single glance. In truth, I was a bit unsettled by him. Not matter how human he tried to appear, there seemed to be a dark aura around him and sometimes this strange feeling possessed me, as if I was on the cusp of getting devoured by a dangerous beast. His eyes, while part compassionate, also held this underlying viciousness, like they were trying to bait me into trusting them. And I didn’t. The more the wedding approached, the more I saw some kind of depraved excitement in them, only heightening this unsettlement that dwelled in my bones every time I came across him.

So thus I pissed away the evening. I tried to dodge as many guests as possible, keeping the conversation short and sweet, always finding an excuse why I had to move on, while giving a wide berth to the family table lest I get entangled in whatever was going on there and steadily growing more and more irritated by my new husband’s behaviour. He was nearing a dangerous level of intoxication and we still had at least two or three hours of entertaining everyone present in front of us. Well, at least I did. Yujun seemed to be quite happy wreaking havoc with his buddies and leaving me to do all the work. That is most definitely going to be a staple of our marriage.

I sighed and reached for a fresh flute of champagne. I didn’t even like champagne, but this day was driving me fucking insane.

“Darling,” my mother’s voice startled me enough to lightly choke on the drink and attempt to hide the flute like I was a naughty schoolkid sneaking snacks, “it is getting quite late. You might want to talk with your husband about retreating for your wedding night soon.” I looked at her, sizing up her perfectly schooled elegant face, her slender frame draped in expensive designer clothes and sighed again.

“It’s only half past eight,” I argued back petulantly, “we still have time till around eleven.” No matter what, I just wanted to avoid talking to Yujun, especially when he was this wasted and surrounded by similar idiots. My mother’s expression spoke of quiet reprimand. She only looked at me like that when she wanted to tell me I should know better.

“Most people are going to start leaving around ten, you know that,” she scolded me lightly and picked an invisible piece of dirt off of her sleeve, not even directing her full attention to me, “Stop stalling and go talk to your husband.” With that she was done, already turning and walking away before I could even open my mouth.

I pursed my mouth to keep the expletives from falling all out loud enough to embarrass her for 10 years in advance. Just aimlessly standing around, I threw back the rest of the champagne in the flute, chugging it in two big gulps, before slamming it down on the table perhaps a little too hard and startling a poor waiter just trying to clean up the buffet table. Steeling myself, I looked determined back into the direction of the rowdy table, but my feet stayed stubbornly glued to the ground.

“I can go talk to him, if you want,” the mellow voice came from my left and this time it startled me enough to jump. His big dark eyes crinkled in amusement, lips curling gently in a pleased smile. Park Seonghwa annoyingly looked absolutely stunning in his fitted three-piece suit and long dark hair carefully swept in curls out of his face, a tiny half bun sitting at the back of his head.

I regarded him coldly, trying to keep my distance from a man that felt too dangerous to be this close to. I didn’t even realise he had moved to the table, had no idea how long he has been standing there watching me. Even now, he patiently waited for my answer with his eyes eagerly taking me in, causing goosebumps to erupt on my naked arms.

“I’m not sure how I feel about you discussing my wedding night with your brother,” I fired back when my brain finally jumped back online, and I no longer just stared at the tall slim man and his deceptive gentleness.

He smiled lightly, really it was just a quirk of one corner of his mouth, and shifted a little closer.

“I’ll just tell him fun’s over in an hour and a half,” Seonghwa assured me in a manner that was maybe supposed to be calming, but only made the dark pools of his eyes even deeper. I didn’t step back, even when my body was begging me to put more distance between us, and stood my ground.

“I’m not sure the fun will be over for him no matter what you say,” I sighed and threw one more angry stare towards the drunkards, “He’s already too drunk to even get home and we still have more than an hour to go.” Seonghwa sidestepped and turned, and we stood there side by side, just watching the madness unfold.

“There’s a honeymoon suite prepared for you in the hotel,” the tall man supplied dryly, “all you have to do is get him into the elevator.” I hummed but couldn’t tear my eyes away from the embarrassing displays of drunkenness that were beginning to scare away nearby tables, the guests side-eyeing the young men and moving to leave while throwing disgusted glances around, more often than not sending them towards me as well. As if I wanted a husband like that, old lady.

Suddenly there was an arm gently coiled around my shoulders. Before I could react, Seonghwa squeezed gently twice and then moved towards them with a cheeky wink.

“I’ll tell him, don’t worry,” he told me while walking backwards away from where we stood, “and once you get him into the honeymoon suite, you can just dump him there and go sleep next door.”

I didn’t react in any way, only sending him an unimpressed look and then watched as he walked briskly the rest of the way and slowly inserted himself into the mayhem of the groomsmen. Immediately his face completely shut off, putting on a fake pleasant expression, but none of the men seemed to notice. I watched as Yujun got up and drunkenly stumbled until he was half hugging Seonghwa, hanging off of him and laughing loudly. From Seonghwa’s expression I could only guess whatever the joke was, he must have been the butt of it, but he took it well, years of practiced patience taking over his body. He said something to Yujun and I could see his eyes darting to me before his face was split by the grossest sleaziest grin known to man. I couldn’t stop the full body shudder that went through me, and honestly, I didn’t even try. The groomsmen all started whistling and shouting obscenities, pouring more shots and patting Yujun on his back while he cackled like a madman. Seonghwa then proceeded to say something more which elicited even more hollering and back pats, now even to him to his incredible discomfort.

He then withdrew from the situation just as slowly and quietly as he entered it, quickly walking back towards me. I hated the pity in his eyes, genuine or not, so instead I just grabbed another flute of champagne and grumbled into it while I sipped.

“Sorry you had to witness that,” he whispered and I avoided his gaze as hard as I could, instead staring off into the distance. “Whatever,” I grumbled back, trying to shake off the disgust that once again started to crawl back into my bones and stomach, making me sick with the thought of sharing a bed with that man.

Just then Seonghwa was called over by one of the servers gesturing wildly to the bar. He gave me one last apologetic glance and then ran off to deal with whatever mess that needed his immediate attention, leaving me to stand alone next to the champagne tower like the drinking wreck that I was quickly becoming. From the corner of my eye I saw my mother’s disapproving face, signalling me to step away from the alcohol and mingle more, smile more and look happy to have my life ruined by father’s business, but I ostentatiously ignored her until she alerted father of my unbecoming behaviour.

That quickly shook me into action, and with his stare burning into my back, I disposed of the empty glass and threw myself back into the madness.

The rest of the evening was a frenzy of overwhelming sensations and passed in a blur. I must have spoken to every guest that was invited, held so much small-talk I was beginning to lose my voice. I still avoided the two tables that held all of the people I didn’t want to interact with and rather I listened to some old aunt’s rants about how the modern generation of women just don’t want to be perfect housewives anymore and how they bring dishonour on their husbands.

Before I knew it, two hours have passed and I found myself stationed at the main entrance, shaking hands and exchanging goodbyes with everyone who was leaving, and waving at people that were staying in Seonghwa’s hotel.

The man himself was suspiciously scarce throughout the last hour of the party, his tall lean figure nowhere in sight, which made me surprisingly jumpy. There was a mounting feeling in me that something would happen, anxiety rising with every minute ticking by, but I thought it to be just a by-product of this whole clusterfuck of an evening and disregarded it.

My husband was also missing, probably still thrashing the bar in the lounge one room over, not even bothering to see his guests out.

Soullessly I watched everything happen, empty smile plastered on my face as I was pushed from side to side, listened to the same four meaningless sentences come out of the hundred mouths on faces that all blended together in my mind.

After they were ushered out, there was suddenly a flutter of action around me, people all speaking over one another, one telling me to go there and other telling me to stay here. I stayed silent and waited like a puppet for someone to move me where I was supposed to be. My emotions were shutting down one after another, too overloaded by everything and too scared to face head on what was about to take place.

Woodenly I let my mother drag me to the elevator, mumbling something about not worrying about my husband, father would get him, he would be here any minute, there was no reason to stress out, just relax and wait for him, it was as easy as that, after all we were a man and a woman, it was all perfectly natural. I nodded when there was a lull in her chatter to keep her none the wiser, agreed when I heard her intonation climb in a question.

Finally, the elevator climbed all the way up, reaching the quiet floor with a long hall that had only four doors on it, two of which were honeymoon suites. I felt more confused than ever, as if even my brain completely stopped working, but fortunately (or not) my mother seemed to know where to go.

The room was spacious inside, with a beautiful view of the night city, a whole comfortable lounge that already held a tray with more champagne and some appetizers. To one side I could see a sleek bathroom and to the other through an arch was visible a king-sized bed that dominated the space.

Mother sat me down on one of the sofas and I just distantly took notice of how soft and comfortable it was before she again launched into some sort of a monologue I wasn’t interested in. I amused myself by looking out the window, already nursing another flute of champagne, which was promptly yanked out of my hands.

“Are you trying to catch up with your husband?” my mother’s angry voice cut through the fog in my mind, but I was beyond caring what she had to say.

“I certainly cannot go through it completely sober,” I noted dryly with a sarcastic flare, snatching the flute back. That earned me a glare that could split a mountain in half, but I stubbornly, and somewhat childishly, refused to look at her.

“You’ve done it before and you’ll do it again after,” she stated matter-of-factly, as if she didn’t understand where the problem was, “it’s just sex.” A wave of rage and hatred raised in me so strongly that I had to hold myself back from either screaming or bursting into tears.

“Just leave already,” I said coldly instead, still not looking at her, but watching her figure in the reflection of the window. She froze, her arms stuttering a little in the middle of a movement, and I could clearly feel the disappointment in my behaviour radiating off of her. Then she straightened out and without a word walked towards the door.

“Your husband will get here shortly; I advise you to prepare yourself and meet him not completely hammered.” Her cold words rang through the silent room and then she was gone.

I simmered in that silence for a long few minutes, working to get my emotions back in check. In the end I just gave up on resisting this. There was no way out of this anyway. With a bit of luck Yujun was already so drunk he’d just take his clothes off and pass out and then I can tell him the next day how he was just a wonderful lover, how I enjoyed our time together so much.

So, I had one last glass and then started preparing myself mentally, steeling myself and pacing nervously around the room waiting for my husband to burst drunkenly through the door any minute now. I flinched with every sound, strained my ears to hear anything moving outside those doors.

Only… it never came. After 40 minutes of waiting, Yujun was still nowhere to be seen.

I was beyond irritated, checking the time every two minutes and still expecting the shoe to drop. The longer he took to get here, the drunker he’d be and the drunker he was, the more volatile and unpredictable he’d get. The irritation quickly rose to anger, my mood fluctuating between rage and fear and panic.

Once it was longer than an hour, I was just tired. The clock struck 23:45 and I sighed, completely drained and resigned. It became clear that he wouldn’t get here. At least not now.

Sitting down on the sofa, I felt all the stress trickle out of me as I completely decompressed. There was a sudden numb calm washing over me and I just wanted to be done with it, so drained I became completely detached from the world. I rose to finally fucking change out of the gown and promptly found out that now I faced a different kind of problem.

My dress had a lacing I couldn’t reach on my own. I needed help to get out of my dress. There was no one else on this floor and my parents were long gone, choosing to return to our home instead of sleeping in a hotel. My husband was god knows where and most probably in a state where he wouldn’t be able to take off his own pants.

I crumpled into the sofa, half groaning half screaming into my hands, the frustration of the whole situation, the whole day, the whole four fucking months weighing down on me enough to force a sob out of me. And then another, and then another, until I was bawling my eyes out in an empty honeymoon suite. For long moments I laid half draped over the settee crying, just getting all of my jumbled emotions out in the only outlet I had. Why did everything just have to go absolutely wrong?

It felt like whole centuries had passed when I seemed to run out of tears and finally managed to calm down again; and I looked around the room, playing with the thought of just cutting myself out of the dress with a knife or scissors, but quickly giving up on the idea with a despaired laugh falling out of me.

Everything hurt and I was exhausted, and I wanted to go to sleep, alone preferably, so instead I went into the bathroom and tried to salvage my makeup as much as possible. Thankfully bridal makeup seemed to be invincible, and I just had to tap at some smudged corners to get them dry again.

With that I set out of the room, determined to find anyone that could help me out of the dress, even if it was just some poor busboy trying to make it through nightshift. But I didn’t make it far.

I had just made two steps into the hall when the elevator suddenly dinged, and the door opened. For ten absolutely terrifying seconds I expected my husband to be the one stepping off of it, but instead a tall slender figure elegantly made its way towards me, hair still effortlessly falling around his face as if it was paid to do it.

“What the hell are you doing here?” flew out of my mouth before any reason kicked in, my brain too fried to concern itself with proper manners. Seonghwa only blinked at me in amusement, lips quirking up. Something was different about him and my alarms started going off, but I’d already gone through so much that day I barely even realised.

“Is there a reason why you’re roaming the halls like the ghost of Christmas past?” he shot back, coming close enough to lean and tower over me. His eyes peered down on me over the bridge of his nose, suddenly looking a lot less amused and a lot colder and domineering. I stuttered over my words, clocking in the change in his demeanour once I noticed the darkness swimming in those usually expressionless orbs.

“I- I need help getting out of my dress,” I whispered, too shocked to comprehend what was happening, the truth suddenly slipping out unwittingly, “I was looking for someone… Yujun hasn’t-“

Seonghwa’s dark chuckle interrupted me, it rumbled through his chest close enough I could almost feel it. I looked up at him questioningly. His grin was suddenly mocking and it threw me for a loop. All my instincts screamed at me to back away from such clear savagery shining through in his expression, but I felt completely frozen, half mesmerised half terrified.

“Yujun wouldn’t be able to untie his own shoes right now,” he said meanly, the resentment towards his family he so often hid away now out in the open, raw in his voice like a bleeding wound.

“Do you know where he is?” I decided to ignore his heated stare that seemed to be penetrating deep into my being and instead focused on my goal – locating my husband so I could kick his ass and then avoid him for the rest of the honeymoon.

But Seonghwa only smirked and curled an arm around my shoulders, pulling us towards the suite doors, clearly steering me to follow him inside.

“First, let’s help you with that dress, sweetheart,” his deepened voice almost purred somewhere close to my ear and it sent shivers through me, some kind of dark anticipation setting into the pit of my stomach.

Alarm bells were blaring loudly through my mind, but I just stared him completely stunned and let him drag me. Man, maybe I did overdo it with the champagne.

I looked at his face and fully took in just how ethereally beautiful he really was, the big dark eyes and full sensual lips on a slender face framed by glossy dark hair, he was a vision that an artist would die for just to catch a glimpse of. A face that could unleash wars and bring down empires, break the honour of gods, taint them and seduce them into immorality. Such a man he was. And I saw in his eyes that he would.

Before I could stutter out some sort of answer, he was already pulling us inside the door and shutting it behind us, the lock clicking with a startling finality. Suddenly I found myself standing panicked in the middle of the lounge with Seonghwa circling me like a shark, watching my form and the dreadful dress with dark hungry eyes. Even though my mouth hung slightly open as I still processed the current situation, nothing could come out of it, as if he took my voice with just a single touch.

“How terrible, chaining you poor thing into such a dress,” he whispered sensually, his voice caressing my skin like raven black feathers, “it must have been tiring, having it on the whole day…” He trailed off, a second of silence stretching between us and putting me on edge. Then, I could feel his fingers lightly dancing down the exposed back of my neck, until they hit the edge of the lacing. My breath hitched, getting caught deep in my throat at the sudden contact, and I shivered, eyes fighting the urge to roll back into my skull.

I blushed at my body’s visceral reaction. Either I had to be even more drunk than I initially thought, or the desperation clouded my judgement enough to actually allow my brother-in-law’s advances. Both options were terrible and unacceptable. Still, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to even lift and arm to swat his hands away, not even to turn and scold him with a glare, nothing. It was as if I was deep under a spell, his aura pressing me into inaction and sluggishness, my brain muddled and confused but vaguely excited.

Just as I took in a deep breath to break the fog away and started gathering a sufficient effort to move from him, he abruptly stepped closer, pressing his front against my back with his arm coiling around my waist like a strangler snake. Now all he had to do was squeeze the life out of me. His lips touched lightly on my exposed shoulder, and I could feel his breaths hitting the crook of my neck, a wave of goosebumps breaking in its wake.

“You shouldn’t act like this towards your brother’s wife,” I managed to get out of my dry throat, the words no more than a breathless whisper. There was a mocking scoff next to my ear and his arms coiled even tighter before releasing me all at once. I heaved a sigh of relief, not realising yet this was only the beginning of his game. Oh, he wasn’t anywhere near done.

I was spun quickly, two dexterous hands moulding me to his liking until I was facing him again. There was a terrible grin on his face and an absolute terror set into the pit of my stomach.

“I’m just trying to help you out of an uncomfortable situation,” Seonghwa lied smoothly, the words slipping out of his lips easily with faux concern. We both knew it was utter bullshit, but I still floundered in his arms, not knowing what to say or do, how to combat his searing mocking gaze.

His hands started moving again slowly, sliding tenderly down my arms and back up and then making their way to my back. Seonghwa pressed himself closer again, now front to front with my face awkwardly angled around his shoulder. Before I knew it, his arms looped around me and started tugging at the ribbon tying the corset part together while his face slowly lowered until he was gently mouthing at my shoulder.

I gasped, hands on instinct shooting up to grab something to stabilise myself. It ended up being the lapels of his suit jacket that hung between us. The tall man chuckled darkly, and I was caught in the strange in-between of his gentle touch and mean demeanour.

I felt my knees shaking, the tension rising to a point that my body could barely handle it. A whole-body shiver wrecked through me, the path his mouth made on my skin burning and sending shocks of pleasure through my nervous system that had dangerous heat starting to rear its head in my tummy.

Slowly, leisurely, his hands worked on the ribbon until it was flowing freely from the top and the first few knots were loosened. My heart was beating inside my ribcage so hard it felt as if it was hitting against the bones, and my chest tightened enough to make breathing hard for me. The silence suddenly stretched between us tensely and I wondered if the man could hear the wild beating in my chest, if to him it maybe felt like a scared bird fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Seonghwa lifted his head enough to turn me again, enough to let me see the self-satisfied smirk, and I went easily wherever he wanted me to go. My brain was screaming at me to do something, say something, but I could barely think over the dull buzz of nerves and dark thrumming of my boiling blood. My body yearned and I lost all control over it, turning into a pliant little doll in the hands of a terrible master. The temptation was just too strong, what he offered too sweet.

Words were bubbling in my throat, catching on the swallowed sighs and getting stuck in the constricted little space as I fought for every breath, but I knew they needed to spill over. I couldn’t go down without at least a little fight.

“Where…,” I started but it came out all scratchy and barely audible, “Where is my husband?” Seonghwa’s hands froze where they were unhurriedly playing with the ribbons and loosening them a millimetre after a millimetre to turn this into a torturous progress, to show me that I would let him play me like this for hours if he so pleased. Then he snickered.

“You’re still looking for him?” he asked with his lips pressed into the skin beneath my ear, “Aren’t I enough for you?” It was said as a tease, but I felt the sharp daggers of bitterness in his voice, like he was daring me to insinuate he was beneath his brother. “Aren’t I the better choice?” came out with a chuckle a moment later. Now, that was a taunt.

“Any moment he can get here and then I’ll get fucking murdered for your misdeeds,” I hissed back venomously even though I still haven’t made a single move to get some space between us. Seonghwa laughed condescendingly at me, and I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was sneering madly at my insistence to discuss the other man with him.

“He won’t be coming anytime soon, don’t you worry your pretty head darling,” he bit out with a mean laugh, “I know my brother and he can’t resist an open bar. It was only a matter of waiting until he drank himself into a coma. He won’t disturb us until the morning, and even if he wakes up during the night he won’t know up from down.” This time it was me who froze completely while Seonghwa’s fingers resumed their journey. Some terrible realisation dawned upon me, and I felt as if the rug was swept right from underneath my feet and I was freefalling, straight into these dangerous outstretched arms.

“You were planning this the whole time,” I whispered shakily, trembling in the man’s hands but ultimately, I was helpless to his games. I already knew I was fighting a losing bet, and in the end I would surrender to him.

This time Seonghwa outright laughed at me, making embarrassment sink into my gut and I shrunk into myself. I felt his fingers dig into the fabric of the white wedding dress. In the reflection of the window I saw him, shoulders shaking and mouth open with the laugh, eyes crinkled in a depraved kind of amusement. The sound cut through the empty silent room, strangely as melodic as much as it was savage. I watched him equal part with both horror and reverence, the dark atmosphere finally sinking through my skin and penetrating deep into my soul. In that moment I realised I had just walked into the tiger’s den and there was no way out.

Seonghwa finally calmed down and his eyes found mine in the reflection of the window almost instantly; they were full of contempt and I shuddered under his gaze, humiliation spreading through me at his sneering lips.

“Finally you’re catching up, darling,” he spit that word out like it was poison, and even though it was meant to caress it felt more like a slap, making me sharply inhale, “how could I let my spoiled little brother just walk into this without a little price.”

Suddenly his hands roughly grabbed at the ribbons and pulled hard, almost tearing the corset apart in his haste to finally rid me of it. I stumbled under the force and almost wished there was a wall or a window in front of me, so I could lean on it. My own hands were shaking, as were my pupils while I tried desperately to catch up with the situation. His beautiful face looked almost ethereal with this much wrath and hatred pulling it into a savage grimace, all burning eyes and bared teeth. In this light they almost looked sharp enough to tear flesh apart with a single bite.

“There’s a little compensation to be had, don’t you think darling?” he sneered some more, hands feverishly working to rid me of the oppressive clothing.

Then he used the ribbons tightly clutched in his hands to pull me closer again and our bodies collided harshly. This time I did gasp out loudly but before I could comprehend or react, his face was pressed to mine, our cheeks smushing together lightly while our eyes met again in the window. Pure deranged madness was swimming around his blown-out pupils and he flashed me a beastly savage grin.

“How do you think our little prince would like that I defiled his lovely wife before he even had the chance to get his hands on her?”

There was a sound of tearing fabric ringing through the room and I felt the dress give way, sliding down my arms and torso. In panic I quickly caught it to stop it from pooling around my ankles. But I might have as well let it be, because shortly Seonghwa’s arms circled around my waist and trapped both my hands and the dress under his grip.

Without wasting a single second, he pushed us together as close as we could go, moulding around my back and feverishly attacking my exposed neck and shoulders. Quick scolding hot wet kisses were laid one after another and I felt his hands squeeze at my waist as he licked and bit into my skin, rapidly moving up my neck to the edge of my jawline.

My mouth hung open a little wider with every swipe of his tongue, little breathy sighs and half moans flowing out freely. I was helpless coming face to face with such devastating passion and desperation, how could I protest anything when I heard Seonghwa’s satisfied groans muffled by my skin, when I felt his hands tearing at the dress and never letting me part even a single millimetre from him.

Desire and duty warred through my body, leaving me desperate and frustrated and unable to make a single move in whichever direction. I never wanted this marriage and I already despised Yujun. If I could, I would have since long walked away from this, from my father and his stern unloving face, from my mother and her constant reprimand and propriety, and most of all from my awful disgusting husband. Seonghwa was offering me the same thing he himself sought with this. Revenge. But I respected the vows and despised cheating, and my moral side was begging me to end this at once and remain faithful to a man I barely knew, barely even liked. The result of this was my torn silence and inaction, never taking part but never stopping it.

It was so wrong, but it felt so good I couldn’t do anything except for stand there and take it from the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

The confusing mix of emotions tore through me and left me all bloody and aching like an exposed nerve. My hands clenched and unclenched, eyes flitted around the room in panic, mouth opened and squeezed shut, the words always just at the tip of my tongue but never quite making it out while my brain quickly sunk deeper and deeper into lust.

Seonghwa’s eyes found mine in the reflection once again and slowly bled into a condescending pity. He licked a long stripe along my neck, tasting the salty sweat and purring in content, eyes just slightly rolling back. The sight made me weak, made my body thrum with feelings I haven’t felt in a long time, the excited tension manifesting in the dull throbbing in my lower tummy and the tingles running through me whole. I felt myself clenching at the display, and quickly pushed my thighs together to chase after the pleasure.

“You’re all up in your head, darling,” Seonghwa whispered, spinning sweet webs to catch me in, “Stop thinking, pretty. Just turn off your brain and let the sensations wash over you. Just go with the flow.” His dark eyes flew over my figure for one last time and then he was gripping my jaw roughly and jerking my head to the side to finally feast upon me like he wished.

He kissed like he was laying a claim on me, hard and heavy, tongue prying my mouth open immediately and swallowing the aborted little sounds I couldn’t stop from slipping out. It was filthy and wet and I felt as if he tried to devour me whole. I couldn’t even reciprocate fully, only stand there and take it, weakly moving my own tongue against his but I was quickly overpowered by him in every sense. Then it stopped just as quickly as it started.

I opened my eyes, blearily blinking and trying to get my unfocused gaze back into working order. I felt like I was underwater, like thick molasses was pulling me deeper into the sweetness. Meanwhile Seonghwa looked beyond delighted, lips permanently quirked up and showcasing his sharp canines.

Quick hands spun me around again, one arm immediately securing me against him while the other went to my face, caressing it with deceptive gentleness. Slowly he ducked his head down and kissed up and down the side of my neck and my shoulder, and this time around his lips were tender and reverent, like he didn’t turn into a beast just a few moments ago. My head was spinning from his constant flip-flopping between kind and cruel, but I submitted to him every time anyway.

“He doesn’t even deserve you, darling,” his sugary whispered words carried a little sting to them, but he still trickled them like honey straight to my awaiting throat and I happily drank it all, “He can’t value you as he should… He can’t fuck you like he should.” He growled the word into my throat, hands migrating to grab at my ass and press me up against his crotch, letting me feel the hardness of his arousal.

I gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders, not even knowing whether I’m pushing him away or pulling him closer, but the result was the same. He kissed the same the second time around, plunging his tongue into my mouth and dominating it completely, not giving me a chance to do much else than sigh and moan filthily as he pried me open in every way.

The dress was slowly pulled down and I suddenly found myself exposed to his eyes, the white lacy wedding lingerie a contrast to my heated flushed skin. My first instinct was to hide myself away from him, shyness fighting to take control over me, but I stood still. Somehow to me it would have been more embarrassing if I cowered before him, so I faced his lust head on.

Seonghwa’s eyes hungrily took in every detail, every new inch of skin revealed, from the lacy top and the frilly ribbons in the middle, to the panties that barely hid anything and the wedding garter still firmly sitting on my thigh.

“God, look at you,” the man darkly groaned, eyes glued to my crotch, “You’d be wasted on such an idiot. You deserve so much more, darling, so much more.” On a whim I decided to gather some wit and push back a little, even though it might not be a great idea to provoke him right now.

I threaded my hand through his long locks and tugged hard, making him hiss loudly while his head jerked back. There way annoyance in his eyes, but even that couldn’t mask the sheer amount of arousal and lust reflected in them.

“And you think that you’re what I deserve?” I attempted to say coldly, but I couldn’t tell how successful I was at my delivery with my whole body shivering and succumbing to his touch already. His eyes narrowed and his face turned to stone, and I immediately wanted to take my taunt back. I did not feel anywhere near ready to have that kind of confrontation with him. I felt the fight drain out of me at the dangerous glint is his eyes, head instinctively ducking in shyness and submission.

Seonghwa must have sensed my surrender too, because his lips quickly turned into a cruel smirk and he laughed at me, hand going to lightly grab my throat. I waited with bated breaths, fear and anticipation bleeding together into an ugly kind of arousal, but I didn’t have it in me to feel much shame anymore.

The world suddenly spun around me and then I was crashing into the settee behind me with enough force to knock the breath out of me. I barely just gathered my wits back and Seonghwa was already kneeling in front of the sofa spreading my legs. His hands grabbed my hips and roughly manhandled me into the position he wanted, and once my legs were thrown over his shoulders, he wasted no time descending onto me.

He bit and kissed and licked his way down my inner thighs, the sensitive skin hurting and pinching with every nip, making me jerk and gasp in his hold to which he only chuckled coldly.

“Hold steady now, doll,” he said evenly, “I’m gonna eat your pussy until you’re cumming all over my face.” With that he smirked and dove in. His warning did nothing to stop my body jerking wildly the moment he licked a long bold stripe over the seat of the panties.

Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up full of dark reprimand, sending a wave of goosebumps over me. I saw his arm rise and descend quickly, just barely managing to hold my breath as it harshly collided with the skin where my thigh met my ass. The smack carried through the room, as well as my loud whimper. Embarrassingly I felt a gush of slick hit my panties at the action, but I had no time to dwell on it when Seonghwa bit mercilessly into the inner part of my thigh before sliding back to my centre.

For a few long moments he amused himself by skirting around where I truly needed him to touch and instead paid attention to the edges of the panties or lightly licked and sucked through the drenched lacy fabric. My whole body thrummed with excitement, begging to be finally touched where it needed it the most, but I was too afraid to writhe around or push him, so I just lied there and whined loudly, not even caring anymore. There wasn’t even anyone else on this floor anyway.

I was so wet and aroused, my cunt pulsing knowing he was so close to touching where I needed him, my brain completely melted and unable to comprehend anything beyond the burning consuming need as I trembled under his teasing touches and licks.

Seonghwa’s eyes bore into me, just endless swirling pools of arousal and arrogance, watching me battle my body to listen to his instructions and slowly falling apart before he even did anything. Once he had enough of the pathetic little show I put on for him, I more felt than heard his chuckle before he suddenly dove in.

The moment I felt his lips curl around my clit through the panties and suck, it felt like I could cum just from that as the relief and pleasure rushed through my veins and my hips kicked up a little. A long moan left my lips almost unwittingly and I threw my head back into the cushions hard enough to hurt even through the softness. My hands flew to his hair practically immediately and pulled hard, trying to keep him buried between my folds until the end of time.

Seonghwa didn’t seem to mind I disregarded his rule not to move, instead moaning loudly into my cunt in response and desperately mouthing and sucking at the little nub over the fabric. I felt my thighs tense with every move and Seonghwa’s hands gripped them harder to keep them still, his fingers sinking deep into the flesh until it was borderline painful, but the sensation only fuelled the madness of ecstasy that was warring through me and made everything just a tad bit sharper.

The man could only bear it for few more moments, before a frustrated noise sounded from between my legs and he was suddenly flying off of me. I instinctively pulled his hair to keep him where I wanted him and was greeted with the sight of his eyes rolling back into his skull and mouth opening on a silent moan. The display was enough to make me forget about the annoying lack of stimulation for just a few seconds, and I whined, high and long, as if trying to lure him closer.

Finally he looked at me, debauched pleasure written all over his face as his red swollen lips curled into a sensual grin, and then he quickly ripped my panties off and flung them somewhere across the room, only giving me the warning of hearing the fabric tear before the tatters curved through the air. I had barely two seconds to react and gasp before he was diving back straight for my pussy, his mouth and tongue finding my entrance almost immediately and licking and sucking all around it, spreading my wetness all over the lower part of his face.

An electric current went through me, my back arching on its own as I tensed and moaned at the sudden contact. And this time Seonghwa delivered, with all his might.

Only loud slurping sounds could be heard throughout the room as he wildly swirled his tongue around my folds, quickly gulping down everything he could gather and sucking intensely at my clit, making me jolt in his arms every time. Every once in a while he would move down for a moment, immediately sticking his tongue as deep into me as he could and fucking me with it with harsh fluid movements while his nose bumped against my most sensitive part and the loud chuffs of air, pants and moans vibrated through me and sent me higher; and then he’d rise back up only to abuse the swollen nub with rough flicks and well timed hard sucks.

I was falling apart under his ministrations quickly, almost embarrassingly so, my whole body jerking and quivering as my back curved up under the powerful euphoric bursts ravaging me inside out and the feeling of his warmth enveloping my folds made me almost crazy. The feeling only intensified when I looked down breathlessly and saw Seonghwa’s eyes, completely gone and glazed over, making him look like a helpless slave to the pleasure. I would have even felt some sense of power from it if he didn’t completely overwhelm me with the sensations, dutifully stimulating me in every way his clever mouth could think of.

He ate pussy wildly and messily, spreading my juices everywhere and nigh drowning in them, leaving me slack jawed under the onslaught of his tongue until I couldn’t even moan anymore, only tremble and gush even more right into his welcoming lips.

I felt myself clenching on him, the powerful feeling growing in intensity, building up from deep inside my core and my thighs shook over his shoulders. I knew I was a goner; I knew I was going to cum soon, and there was nothing I could do to fight it. So, I let go.

Seonghwa kept working my cunt tirelessly, swirling his tongue around my clit, licking through my folds, thrusting his tongue inside of me in slow and rough motions. And as he felt me getting closer, his own moans rose in pitch as if he was the one about to cum, mouth latched onto my entrance hungrily awaiting my release.

It only took a few more pumps and his nose pressing down hard on my clit, and the tension was snapping and suddenly I found myself cumming loudly, moan ripping out of my throat in shock at the strength of the orgasm, my whole body spasmed attempting to curl and arch with the euphoria, hands tightening impossibly in Seonghwa’s hair.

I blanked, everything turning to white and I could swear I could almost see stars as my ears rang. The whole feeling kept intensifying with Seonghwa still going, groaning into my pussy like it was the most delicious food he’s ever had.

When the high started coming off, I whined in overstimulation at his lazy strokes, for the first time trying to push him away instead of pull him closer, until he finally stopped and rested his head on one of my thighs. We both were breathing heavily and my whole body thrummed with the sweet release, while I could already see the darkness swirling back into his black irises. He smirked at me, half of his face completely smeared in my slick and glistening under the golden light of the room.

“See, wasn’t that refreshing?” he asked suddenly with voice raw and hoarse, a lot more joy seeping into it as he took in my boneless form and my unfocused eyes. I blinked through the tears and through the haze, rendered useless by the force of pleasure and yet still strangely unsatisfied. There were already swirls of new lust building up in my belly at his calculating hungry stare, and I was completely ready to give myself over to him in any way he requested, if only just to have him rain euphoria on me.

As if hearing my thoughts, the man rose suddenly, towering over me and once again looking down on me condescendingly over the top of his nose, but this time around I was considerably more distracted by the enormous tent attempting to push through his pants. He scoffed at me, watching me lust over his cock like I was nothing more but a bitch in heat, and then two of his fingers curled in a beckoning motion, luring me to him with a single gesture. And we both knew I would go.

I eagerly forced myself to sit up, taking a few seconds to try out my limbs again and see if I could even hold my weight now, but after some uncoordinated slips and bumbling around like a newborn fawn, I was able to push myself into a kneeling position on the sofa, my face exactly at the height of his crotch.

I looked up at him expectantly, already licking my lips at imagining having his length stuffed all the way down my throat. I knew he would do it to me, I knew he would push his way in harshly and fuck my throat until it was unusable, until I was crying and struggling to breathe. He would hold my head and force himself as deep as possible, disregarding me completely. It had me slicking up again, breathing quickening, the arousal building up steadily and quickly, the idea of it making my cunt clench in a silent plea to be filled up and absolutely ravaged. And by the look in Seonghwa’s eyes, I could tell that wish would soon become reality.

There was so much mockery and condescension etched into his features I would absolutely feel shame at myself the moment this ended, but while kneeling there I barely minded him clearly looking down on me, both literally and metaphorically. And he played with me a little, hand tangling itself into my hair and messing up the bun I had done for the wedding even more, pushing my head against his bulge, but not letting me mouth over it or touch it, always pulling away as soon as I moved closer. His cruel smirk reflected clearly how much fun teasing me he had, knowing he had me in this state after one orgasm without even fucking me. How truly pathetic I was.

His hard cock pushed at my cheek, and he pressed himself closer and firmer against me, slowly rocking his hips until he was dry humping my face, peering down at me filthily. I stayed docile in his hold, letting him rub himself over me, eyes trained on the way pleasure slowly broke through his mask, colouring his eyes with different kind of darkness. But he soon grew bored of this and pushed me away.

I held in the embarrassing whine at that, biting my tongue to keep myself together while he gazed at me looking like he was trying to figure how to destroy me. Which, to be honest, he absolutely was.

His thumb swiped over my lower lip quickly and then his hand migrated to my neck again, this time manhandling me a lot gentler as he pushed me around to turn and bend over to all fours, still perched on top of that sofa.

The furnishing moved and dented behind me, throwing me off balance a little, but then there was a body pressing into me, hips firmly digging into mine and a hot hard cock pushing against my weeping red cunt.

I gasped lightly and moved backwards, grinding onto the man to feel him sliding through my folds even with his pants still on, but he stopped me with a hiss, one hand going to push at my lower back and the other grabbing onto my hip.

“Stop being so impatient, doll,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, voice heavy and low with the accumulated lust, “You’ll take what I give you or I’ll have you watch as I cum all on my own.” Though even this threat sounded a little tempting, I immediately froze, only feeling my walls clenching in anticipation. I dug my fingers into the furnishing, almost even holding my breath to settle the wild desire running through me and begging me to just spear myself on his cock rules or no rules. But I held steadfast and was rewarded with his amused chuckle.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you doll?” he whispered, hands grabbing onto the meat of my hips and pulling me back against him while at the same time thrusting forward. I was so wet I slid along his pants seamlessly, leaving behind a trail of my arousal, and he parked himself home perfectly, cock pressing into my folds just flawless enough to make my brain absolutely melt.

I could feel the trembling in my hips start up again and fought against the urge to cant my hips in an attempt to finally have him fuck me. I didn’t feel strong enough to hold myself up on my arms anymore, so I slowly lowered myself until I was lying on and grabbing onto the arm of the sofa, looking straight into my own eyes in the reflection in the windows.

Seonghwa behind me was fascinatedly watching where we were pressed together while his hips resumed the gentle rocking against mine, just enough to make me feel him but not enough to give me any relief. I couldn’t hold back the whine and his eyes snapped to mine in the window, face instantly crumpling into a mean smirk.

“Such a good girl,” he repeated more teasingly this time, “only want someone to push you around a little and stuff you full, huh? Need someone to throw you down and show you your place, don’t you darling? No thoughts, just a cock drilling into you and filling you with cum, that’s what you need, huh?”

His words triggered a visceral reaction out of me; shuddering I whined loudly and finally pushed my hips against his, working them in little circles right on his erection, hoping to entice him into doing something. But I clearly underestimated just how much of a menace he could be when he wanted to.

Upon his entertained laugh I searched the window for his form again, finding him amusedly watching me pitifully attempting to get myself off on his pants, and frustration rushed through me. A growl ripped itself out of my throat and before I knew it, my mouth was running off.

“God, Seonghwa, just shut the fuck up and fuck me finally.”

Suddenly we were plunged into silence as I saw his eyes narrow at me, boring right into my soul even through the medium of the window. One of his hands pushed at the small of my back forcefully, steadying my hips and pinning them away from his, while his other finally moved to his belt and zipper. But there was a dark expression on his face, all amusement draining out of him in a second, instead now giving him a colder and domineering aura again.

“Guess I spoke too soon, huh?” he said with faux anger, hand aggressively tearing his belt off of his pants, “Did you already forget what I said about taking what I give you? Well… don’t tell me I didn’t warn you…” The last sentence had me breaking into cold sweat, both a warning and a promise sounding through his voice, throwing me into panic while my cunt slicked up even more in anticipation.

Seonghwa tore his pants open, pushing them around just enough to pull his cock out and without even giving me a chance to look, he shoved himself balls-deep inside of me knocking the wind out of me. I gasped out loudly, whole body jerking forward, and my hands grabbed onto the sofa as hard as I could to battle with the dual sensation of pleasure and fulfilment with burning pain. Tears sprung into my eyes, one sliding down my cheek and falling right into my mouth open wide on silent moan, making me taste salt.

Turns out, the dark-haired man wasn’t willing to wait on that either, as he immediately started pumping his hips into me full force, using his cock to mould my walls to fit him without giving me time to adjust. But it’s not like I complained about anything, when ecstasy I haven’t known before wracked through me and I moaned out desperately with every rough thrust, quickly feeling the pain melt into mind-numbing pleasure that had fire spreading through my every nerve.

I could already feel my body responding and we were barely a couple of thrusts in, but if the rapid throbbing of my walls and my shaking trembling hips were anything to go by, I was ready to cum within few moments. And Seonghwa felt it.

His hands readjusted their grip on my body and then he upped the pace, snapping his hips into me wildly and forcefully, almost knocking to wind out of me on every uptake and sending me crashing into the armrest. He slid in so deep and so perfectly, pressing up against my sweet spot with every move and sending me into overdrive. Every few thrusts I felt like I blacked out for a few seconds as my mind and body started shutting down to only receive the pleasure and nothing more. My face was wet, and I wasn’t sure if it was from sweat, drool or tears, but still I felt like I was sitting on the edge of some terrible breathtaking revelation, like a messiah witnessing a godly act for the first time in their miserable life.

I was literally gasping for breath and on the cusp of cumming again after barely two minutes of his rough pace, cunt so wet I made a mess everywhere and every time he pulled out my juices splattered on our bodies. I was hungrily sucking him in, clenching around the intrusion in hopes of keeping him lodged so deep inside of me it scratched something wild and primal in my brain.

There was babbling and nonsense spilling out of my lips, begging the man to never stop and whining out how good he felt stretching me out like that; cock hammering into my walls with brutish force and I knew I’d never forget the feeling of getting fucked by him, of his thickness spearing me open and the spongy tip overstimulating me from the inside.

The man behind me snickered and I peeked through my half-lidden eyes to the reflection, seeing the vision of Seonghwa ravaging me with all of his clothes still on and perfectly intact, only his pants pushed slightly down, sweat running down his forehead and his cheeks, eyes crazed and trained on the way my whole body bounced with his thrusts. His eyes screamed absolute power and rendered me defenceless against him.

He kept steadily upping the tempo until he was jackhammering into me so quickly my body was crashing down under the tidal wave of pleasure, my g-spot so fucking battered I was crying and drooling into the pillows. I was so sensitive and high-strung, experiencing a wave after a wave of nearly there orgasms, always strong enough to have me breathless but never enough to quite push me over the edge.

I wanted to plead and beg for him to make me cum, but I couldn’t even speak properly through the loud whines and moans spilling freely out of my throat, tongue completely useless and wooden, and any attempt to speak got drown out by Seonghwa’s grunts and groans anyway. So I put the matter into my own hands, quite literally.

I quickly stuck my hand down between my legs and went straight for my clit, pressing on it desperately, half expecting Seonghwa to push it away and punish me, but the man only laughed, head thrown back beautifully to showcase his neck shining with perspiration. When his head lolled back, he was grinning brilliantly, eyes half-lidded and yet so alert it was scary. He was drinking it all up, taking in the spectacle and enjoying the show.

“Look at you, making yourself cum on my cock,” he teased breathily, trying to keep the same tempo but I could feel he was slipping too, “If I knew you’d be cumming your brain out within a few thrusts like this, I’d have treated you like that from the beginning, darling.” I barely registered it, instead everything inside of me screaming from teetering on the edge for too long.

And then suddenly I stuttered and gasped, everything crashing onto me in a burst of fire, and I was cumming so fiercely I screamed, cunt clenching strongly enough to restrict his movement, but he continued slamming into me forcefully as if nothing happened, as if it was nothing while I shook and jerked and cried, the feeling overtaking me with such intensity I blacked out for a moment, eyes rolling back into the back of my skull and my tongue lolling out of my mouth and dripping drool everywhere. Everything was just white noise, and all I could register were my curling toes, my fingers digging into the fabric hard enough to hurt, the feeling of my juices streaming down my thighs as I came and my cunt pumping the most delicious euphoria I’ve ever felt through my body, like sweet ambrosia running through my veins.

I heaved a deep breath suddenly, like coming up through the surface after almost drowning, my body snapping back into itself as the climax turned into a continuous shivering electric hum under my skin. I felt even barely conscious, eyes slipping closed after the intensity of the orgasm plundering through me at the hands of the beautiful man.

But Seonghwa was still thrusting into me, plunging deep and keeping practically the same tempo, and I cried out in overstimulation, instinctively trying to pull away from him, but he kept me in place with his grip, never faltering and taking what he wanted. He was grunting and loudly gasping for air behind me, clearly also on the edge of finding his release, while I was fucked into complete oversensitivity, every new thrust sending scalding hot fireworks through my tired body.

His pace changed, his strokes getting more heavy-handed as he focused more on delivering deep hard thrusts instead of keeping up his pace, the impact of our bodies strong enough to make loud slapping noises that flew through the room, and in any normal kind of headspace it would make me embarrassed, but now I could barely think about anything else other than the hard hot cock making me go crazy and slowly pushing me towards a third high.

Seonghwa curled around me slightly, crumpling with the force of his oncoming orgasm, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open, his hands digging into me with such force I was afraid they were drawing blood.

This was pure animalistic fucking, the kind that I’ve never experienced before, and wasn’t fully prepared for what was in store for me, turning me into a lifeless ragdoll in his hands, just taking it, body jolting around on the soft settee along with his movements.

“I’m going to ruin you for him,” gasped out Seonghwa abruptly after such a long period of silence. His mind seemed to be completely gone, eyes glazed over with something insane and dangerous. His hips pumped desperately, and I felt his cock twitching wildly inside of me just begging to burst.

“I’m going to ruin you for him and for everyone else,” he continued hurriedly, the words falling out of him quickly and with force, “every time he even tries, you’ll only be thinking about how I gave it to you better than any man ever could. My sweet little sister-in-law thinking about my cock while fucking her husband.” A long groan left him, the image he was painting getting to him and pushing him towards the edge hard, his eyes squeezing shut tightly.

I moaned out weakly at that, heat clamping down on him once again in response to his filthy words, and there was an absolutely debauched high-pitched moan from behind me before I felt Seonghwa explode, cumming in strong thick spurts that filled me up quickly as his hips jerked forward with the momentum, trying to press himself as deep as possible to deposit his load.

Another wave similar to a weak orgasm rolled through me and I shivered under him, body protesting and begging me for a reprieve.

We stilled, both trying to catch our breath and recover from the highs we went through, and Seonghwa leaned down, plastering himself to my back. The heat rose at the contact of our two bodies and it was nearly unbearable, but then suddenly the man was giggling darkly into my ear and dread rolled through me at the sound. His lips attached themselves lightly to the lobe, playing with it a little before getting to the point.

“Gave you my load nice and deep darling,” he whispered conspiratorially, another breathless chuckle escaping him, “just like your pussy wanted.” There was a terrible beat of silence, the calm before storm, the dark awful moment before a disaster strikes. I felt his lips pressing closer to the shell of my ear, almost feeling the shape of his smirk.

“Wouldn’t it be ironic…” he started playfully, intentionally avoiding what he wanted to say, until he finally whispered: “How fun would it be if his first son was my bastard, huh? If I got you nice and pregnant tonight and sent you back with a little gift? Wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

A sense of dread and panic started setting into my stomach, but I was too tired, too drained, and I couldn’t do anything except lie there under him and slowly come to terms with my fate. My eyes were even barely open, but I saw enough of him to know that he had more than just a little sick satisfaction from that. The only thing I could do was turn my gaze away and quietly stew in the possible consequences      of my lapse of judgement.

“He took everything of mine,” Seonghwa said with dark finality, “It’s only fair I take something of his.” I didn’t react to that, letting him ride the high all on his own while I just wanted to lie down and sleep. But he seemed to have a different idea of how this evening would continue.

With a deep rumbling laugh he gently gathered me in his arms, dislodging himself from me in the process. I blushed lightly at the feeling of his thick cum trickling down my thighs immediately, but I bet it could be barely seen on my sweaty red face. I dreaded to see the state of my makeup after all of this, or the state of the sofa where my face got smushed into the light brown fabric. Or where I, you know, got fucked into oblivion.

Seonghwa happily heaved me up and started walking towards the king bed in the other room, softly laying me down on the bedding. In my half delirious state my tired brain tried catch up with him now that he flipped again and started being all kind, but I just watched him warily as he moved about the room elegantly.

His clothes were somehow still perfectly in place, except for his pants that were open and hanging onto his hips by sheer willpower. I could see the dark stains of my slick on them alongside some colourful smudges of my makeup and I blushed again, the shame catching up on me now that my brain wasn’t as heated anymore, and I could think at least a little clearly.

I was gathering up my strength to sit up and remove the rest of the tattered lingerie (and my shoes, somehow I managed to forget my heels were still firmly strapped on my feet), when I felt a shadow fall over me. My eyes blinked open slowly, taking in Seonghwa who suddenly appeared at the foot of the bed, looking down on me amusedly.

I watched on as he slowly started loosening his tie and undoing the buttons on his black vest and white shirt. He undressed unhurriedly, the whole time hypnotising me with dark eyes and the bad premonition rose in me once more, the pit in my stomach opening. But if it was with dread or hunger, I couldn’t tell.

Once he got rid of everything except for his pants and underwear, which was on again even though there was a dark wet stain on it, I was already inched up all the way in the middle of the bed as if instinctively trying to put some distance between us. The predatory glint in his eyes told me he was very aware of that; it was trained on me like a wolf’s gaze on a helpless rabbit.

He leisurely climbed onto the bed, one leg after another, beautiful muscled torso on display, just miles of flawless honey-toned skin rippling with every fluid movement of his lithe body. Suddenly he leaned forward and his hands clasped around my ankles like shackles, but his touch remained delicate, a complete one eighty from the ruthless man before.

While keeping his eyes trained on mine, he languidly bent down and placed a barely there kiss on the skin right above my ankle, and I shivered at the caress, my legs tensing and trembling under his care. Seonghwa smirked lightly, snickered quietly and put his lips back to work.

As he unhurriedly climbed up my legs, crawling over me with his hands and lips reverently tracing my heated skin, here or there swiping his tongue over it and tasting the salt of our combined sweat, I laid there and observed him with bated breath, tentative excitement beginning to swirl in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure whether I could go on, but it was hard to remain cold under his lustful stare and gentle hands.

When he reached my crotch I gasped and he laughed at me, nosing a little around the sensitive area and staring like a hawk at my reaction. Trying hard not to break I pursed my lips together hard, but I couldn’t conceal whatever it was that swam in my eyes to which he seemed to be drawn the most. I cursed at my weak mind and flesh and threw my head back in surrender, thighs automatically falling more apart to give him space to operate.

My heart gave a few painful pumps, and I tried not to think about what was happening here, tried to not think about what night this was and who I was with, but the man seemed determined not to let me forget what sin we were committing here.

An amused chuckle flew out his mouth at me, I felt the puff of air hit my sensitive slit and jolted a little with a quiet gasp, but he only kissed the top of my mound and then moved on to kiss at my hip and further up.

“I’d love to clean up your naughty little pussy, darling,” he whispered into my navel stuttering and trembling with my uneven breaths, “but I want my cum stay right where it is for just a moment longer.” I shuddered at that, a pulse of heat running through me. My hands, all sweaty and clammy, desperately grabbed onto the sheet and dug deep into the mattress in a miserable attempt to not grasp onto him.

Seonghwa slowly kissed his way all the way up to my breasts and suddenly his way was obstructed by the remnants of my night-dress, the white lacy bra barely holding on after he ripped off the lower half of the set. After one cheeky glance my way he sat up and tapped my side gently.

“Arch that back for me for a moment doll, let me take it off for you,” trickled out of his mouth in a sensual drawl, hands already sliding to my back. I listened, of course I did, even though I still stubbornly refused to meet his eyes and turned my head to the side, instead looking out the window at the night Seoul. The man’s reflection was embedded there, obstructing my view and forcing me to perceive him until the bitter end. I watched as he moved fluidly, hands caressing their way up my back and searching for the clasp, undoing it with a single blind flick of his fingers.

I felt the fabric give and slide off of me slightly, before Seonghwa dutifully moved to collect it and move it away, quickly taking it off and throwing it to the side towards the closet. I kept my eyes trained on the vision he was, a dark silhouette backlit with golden light, almost shining skin like a halo, on the backdrop of the beautiful nightline. It was ethereal, he looked ethereal.

The figure moved again, smoothing himself out over the bed, anchoring himself between my thighs. I witnessed him languidly bend down, like he had all the time in the world, a soft smirk on his face that spoke of victory. The same moment his head ducked down lazily, I felt the man’s hot breath hit my skin and then he was licking a bold stripe up the strip between my breasts. In the reflection, the two forms moulded together, and I felt myself arch up into him and gasp, breaking the eye contact with the window.

I lost the battle to my hands and finally reached for him, needed to feel him and grab on to him so viscerally I almost couldn’t breathe with the desire. I ran up the smooth planes of his back until I finally tangled them into his long black messed up hair, for the second time that night.

Contrary to what I expected, Seonghwa kept himself calm and only migrated to softly play with my tit, pulling the nipple into his mouth and lightly sucking, sending tingling down my spine. He wasn’t hurried at all, the lazy strokes of his tongue around the little nub and the sucks pleasantly sending bursts of warmth through me.

His hands held my tits from the sides, pushing them together as he trailed his mouth all over them, laying down searing branding kisses, alternating between the two nipples and biting lightly. I surrendered to the feeling, letting the beautiful man play me as he pleased, curling into him and hands pulling him closer, massaging the skin of his back and his shoulders.

I was obsessed with the feeling of him under my hands, the heat radiating off of him, the softness of his skin compared to the firmness of the muscle bellow, feeling it ripple as he moved himself closer and plunged his head between my tits, feeling it vibrate with his light moans and sighs of pleasure. It felt like I was losing my mind, body melting into him and eternally begging for more.

I had my eyes closed firmly shut, head thrown back and all thoughts banished except for the sensation of his wet tongue exploring every inch of me and leaving a trail of shivers behind. Without me realising it my thighs rose to cage his waist and hips, hitching up to the back of his thighs and latching onto him so he could never leave and deprive me of this feeling.

Seonghwa was full of happy chuffs and amused chuckles, just entertaining himself by watching me struggle to contain the lust, and I could feel his eyes on me, the dark orbs taking me in as I laid there under him and pleaded for his attention without even having to say a single word.

After what felt like hours of just worshipping my tits, until not even a single millimetre of my skin wasn’t kissed or licked or sucked by his naughty mouth, he finally moved higher and settled into the crook of my neck and latching onto the soft spot right under my ear, making me keen and sigh and whimper. He paid the same attention to my neck, marking it all up with searing kisses and bites that left a gentle sting mixing into the pleasure and I felt my cunt gushing once more, getting ready to take him again.

This new position had our hips perfectly aligned and there was an unmistakable bulge pressing into my centre, and before I could stop myself or think about it, I started gyrating my hips and rubbing myself all over him.

“Being so naughty again, princess,” Seonghwa murmured into my skin with a snicker, “Need another good fucking? Want another load from your brother-in-law, is that it?” I whined, turning my head away from him in embarrassment, but he didn’t seem bothered and only pressed himself closer. I hated when he was using that name for himself, but I couldn’t deny it was the truth. I’ve done such a good job of ignoring that blaring fact, but he never failed to bring me back firmly onto Earth.

Then his hand slowly sneaked from my breasts down my stomach between my legs and he immediately pressed two fingers onto my clit, forcing a stuttered moan out of my throat.

My pussy was so raw and tender after the fucking it received, just wet and swollen and burning, burning for more and begging to be filled and ravaged again, and I knew the moment I’d get his cock inside me again it would feel like getting branded with a fired seal, but I craved nothing more than to have the tip battering my sweet spot until I couldn’t speak.

His fingers didn’t waste time and after some playing around with the sensitive aching nub, he plunged them as deep inside as they could go, giving me a nice substitute but knowing they wouldn’t fill me up enough, not in the way I craved as I began to lose my mind to the lust once more.

The residues of his last release squelched and spurted around his fingers as he began slowly but forcefully fucking me with them, turning it into even a bigger mess, but I barely cared when I had something to clench onto and ride the feeling.

I absolutely felt like I was going through a heat, like I wasn’t capable of single thought beyond getting absolutely railed by this stunning cruel man. At the back of my head countless alarms blared through the night, but I ignored all of them. So what if he did it for revenge? So what if he didn’t care one bit? So what if this had potentially devastating consequences? Nothing mattered as long as he kept fucking me and making me cum.

“How’s that, darling?” he asked on a mean turn of his fingers, forcing them deeper into me and curling them into the most sensitive patch, “Enjoying your brother-in-law’s fingers? You’re such a dirty little whore, letting me have my way with you on your wedding night.” The equally fascinated and mocking tone of his voice was back, hypnotising me with its sweetness and luring me in just to hammer my shame home even further.

I ignored the way I clenched around him at those words, though Seonghwa no doubt noticed judging by the snickers and giggles that kept escaping him as he watched me flail about on the bed under his ministrations. The whine that did claw its way out of me was completely involuntary though and I tried to cover it up with a loud exclamation of “Seonghwa!”. I truly meant it as a reprimand, but it came out as a helpless moan as I felt a shockwave of pleasure rushing through me.

And had I been watching the man, I’d see the way his already blown out pupils dilated with lust even more, as the familiar glint of aroused craze settled back into them.

“Fuck, darling, I really do like hearing you say my name like that,” he whispered breathlessly, fingers picking up the pace, “And you’re absolutely right. You should be screaming my name, you should scream yourself hoarse on my cock so you’d never forget..”

I panted heavily and my legs kept tensing with the rising feeling of another orgasm coming, this time the tidal wave rising higher and higher, the tension getting more strung up and tightening around my core like a string about to snap. But I needed more. I wanted more.

Letting go of all the inhibitions I had left, I grabbed onto the man, desperately pulling at him as I arched more, thighs falling open and hips canting up to feel his thin frame lodge into mine even more. My eyes blinked open after what felt like a whole eternity in a blissful darkness and sought out his immediately, looking into those all-consuming orbs watching my every move.

“Please, Seonghwa…” came out as a hoarse whisper, more a desperate whine than anything, “fuck, please! Please, give me something!” A wicked fucking grin split his face and I realised that it was what he was waiting for this whole time. To break me enough to beg for it all on my own. A dark anticipation ran through me, knowing I’d finally get what he’d been teasing me with.

And I couldn’t even feel bad about it when the man finally extricated himself from me, settled on his knees and pushed his trousers and underwear off, baring himself to me for the first time that night. Or early morning, I had no idea how much time has actually passed.

I was taking his lean figure in hungrily, eyes scaling up and down the elegant planes and curves that hid so much muscle and strength under deceptive beauty, and of course, his beautiful cock standing tall, thin, long and angry red at the weeping tip, all but begging to get back inside of my warmth. And who was I to take that away from him?

Clocking in how starvingly I was eyeing his length, the man smirked at me, hand going to grip my jaw and force my eyes back to his face. There was an arrogant self-satisfied grimace, knowing he’d captivated me like no other before.

“Now now, be a good girl,” Seonghwa taunted darkly, “and maybe I’ll let you suck it some other time.” The promise in that sentence sent shivers and goosebumps down the line of my body, but I couldn’t decide whether it was dread or pure ecstasy at knowing I’d get him like this again, already completely hooked on what he was offering. I licked my lips and his eyes jumped briefly down, lips absentmindedly turning into a smile and then he released me.

Now fully naked, he teasingly slowly settled over me, hips anchoring themselves between my thighs like before, but this time he went for my mouth in another claiming kiss, grabbing onto the side of my head as he pushed his tongue in immediately and eagerly drank up all my little noises of surprise and joy.

This kiss was different though, languid and deliberate and deep, the slow strokes almost lazy in nature, and I keened into him, eyes rolling back with the sensations that washed over me both suddenly and gradually at the same time.

And then, without any warning, he started pushing in, much like he was kissing me – languidly and deliberately driving into me in a slow motion, until our hips were moulded together. And this time it felt like he was even deeper, just sitting there inside of me, pushing into me in a way that was making me crazy without even moving, the weight of having him pressed there enough to choke me up on a sob.

My mouth opened on a moan and Seonghwa hungrily ate it up, mouth continuing to work me and kiss me even though I grew unresponsive in his arms, eyes glazed and unseeing.

And just like before, contrary to my expectations, he didn’t start wildly thrusting into me. Instead he just as slowly pulled out and pushed back in, hips fluidly moving in broad slow strokes and I felt like he was pumping hot molten iron into my circulation.

Our mouths disconnected with a lewd gasp, a few strings of saliva connecting us together until his dark grin broke them. We were so close to each other, our skin melded together by sweat, bodies sliding against each other with every leisured thrust. He stayed hovering right above me, our noses brushing together and breaths mingling. Seonghwa drank up every little twitch of my face with his dark blown out eyes and I couldn’t help but keep my wide open, staring right back.

The eye contact was intense, and I felt sparks jumping between us, but neither of us broke. We just breathed into each other’s lips, brushing but not initiating another kiss. It was so intimate it almost fooled me into believing we cared about each other; with one of his hands reverently caressing my side and the gentle steady pace of his hips, it would have been easy to believe that.

Seonghwa shifted slightly, so that he was leaning on his elbow placed by my shoulder, while the free hand travelled down again to grasp at my hip. Pinning me down to the bed, he roughed up the pace a little, snapping his hips to me a little harder. That finally got me breaking out of the spell and the moment he hammered into my sweet spot, my eyes rolled back into my head and I moaned whinily.

I grabbed onto him, at first onto the shoulders and then I migrated to his waist. Seonghwa chuckled and swerved to get back to my neck, giggling lightly straight into my ear.

“That’s it, darling,” he whispered devotedly, voice honeyed and curling around my senses like a snake, “Fuck, yeah, that’s it…” I took in a shaky breath and immediately tensed at another perfectly aimed pump.

“Seonghwa..” I whimpered out, arching under him even more if that even was possible, legs curling around his hips, and he suddenly pulled back his arm to grab onto my right knee and force it all the way until it hit the mattress, opening me up to him and sliding in even deeper on the next stroke. I choked on a whine, the gradual build up of another orgasm turning my tongue into lead and whiting out my mind.

Seonghwa stubbornly refused to speed up, even though I was hopelessly writhing underneath him on the king bed in the honeymoon suite, husband of barely few hours drunken halfway to death somewhere in this 60-storey building, and here I was. Falling apart another man’s cock, begging for more.

“S-Seonghwa!” I choked out again, “Please, please, fuck I need something!” My cunt felt so raw and sensitive from all the fucking and orgasms before and every time he plunged back inside, slowly to make me feel every inch, every ridge, until his tip nudged as deep as it could go, it ignited me in a way that seemed to touch deep enough to burn my soul.

I felt the sweat trickling down my body, from the creases on the inside of my knees, from beneath my breasts, down my neck and hairline, we both felt so sweaty we stuck together, every movement made smooth by it. It made the slapping noise of our bodies meeting each other wetter, along with my juices that must have by now covered absolutely everything. The heat was nigh unbearable, but it was consuming me from the inside out just like all the other sensations, making my brain even more muddled.

I fought to focus my eyes again, pull them towards Seonghwa, to see the man that was ruining me like this, to see what kind of expression was on his face. The moment I rolled my head back, he was there. The man must have gone back to watching me at some point without me realising it, because there he was, with his face wet with perspiration and hair sticking to his forehead, eyes almost black and lips curled loosely into a smug grin.

“There you are, darling,” fell out of his lips easily, in the otherwise pretty silent room it was almost too loud. I gasped and hiccupped, still hanging onto him like a lifeline.

“After this, what I wouldn’t give to have you ride me, pretty girl,” the man continued now that he had my attention again, “To see your tits bounce as you ride my cock, to fill you up with another load… I know you deserve another one, don’t you pretty girl?” He grew breathless with every word, hips losing rhythm and snapping a little faster, not much but a smidge. I appreciated it all the same, chanting a row of “yes, yes, yes!” while he laughed at me like I was pathetic.

“I’ll have you do it some other time, darling,” Seonghwa just kept going, my reactions fuel to his fire, hips now swirling with every thrust, working in little circles like he was just amusing himself, “after all, I’ll probably need to pump you full a couple times before it takes, huh? And we have all the time in the universe… now that we’re family.”

I whined, but it was drowned out by the noise inside of my head. Sparks were erupting all over my body, the steady pace he set putting just enough pressure on my g-spot to have me stiffening and growing taunt, getting pushed closer and closer to an edge that was already so familiar to me by now.

“Like that!” I couldn’t hold back the scream, head thrown back into the pillows, “Hwa! Hwa, please don’t stop!” The man in question didn’t laugh at me like I anticipated, instead he bent down until our foreheads were almost touching, hand clenching on my knee and keeping it pushed into the bedding, hips enthusiastically pumping into me in a deep circular motion. There were some soft creaks of the bed that got lost to my relieved moans, drowned in the cacophony that was us.

The shaking started up again, the feeling close to overcoming me so intense my whole body shook and trembled as I gasped and moaned, my throat hoarse and lips bitten raw (whether it be from Seonghwa or my own self).

Seemed that the man for once decided to listen to me, cause he kept his pace and aimed at that one spot until I felt the wave rising, rising, pussy clenching and squeezing. It was mounting way more intensely than before and I found myself thrashing, feeling like I was about to explode.

My fingers dug into Seonghwa’s skin, enough to leave him some nasty marks and scratches, and I heard the man hiss in pleasure, hips kicking forward a little rougher and all it took was two, three, four more pumps and then everything burst out in blinding deafening blast, body contorting as much as it could twist under Seonghwa, toes curling and the ecstasy shot through me, shot out of me in strong currents of relief and it felt so fucking good, so good I could cry (and I probably did).

Once the first wave fell off a little, I registered Seonghwa’s stuttered moans and curses, hips jerking wildly, drawing out the euphoria endlessly until I thought I might die between the never-ending pulses of pleasure. The feeling of wetness rose tenfold between us, but my brain couldn’t comprehend anything.

I kept moaning as Seonghwa kept thrusting, going with the feeling and riding the high, listening to his desperate groans and murmurs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, not fully, everything still fuzzy on the edges and my bones molten gold, even the air I was breathing was full of ecstasy and everything swam in front of my eyes.

“Look at me darling, fuck, look at me,” his desperate moan pulled my attention, and I did my best to focus on him. Eyes blown wide and hair messy, golden skin dewy with drops of perspiration; I felt one hit my skin and splatter and it was almost burning.

“Fuck, I wanna see you when I fill you up one last time, pretty girl,” Seonghwa gasped out, hold tightening on my thigh and mouth open wide gasping into mine as our noses slid against each other with sweat.

When he came, I felt it viscerally through my whole body.

At first, he trembled under my hands, muscles growing taunt. Then his hips kicked forward forcefully and suddenly an overflow of scalding hot seed spilt into me in thick long spurts. Seonghwa’s face fell to my neck and his high-pitched moans reverberated through my chest and I lied there gasping, walls contracting, trying to keep everything inside. It was a primitive instinct, but I knew no better than to get absolutely bred and fucked after all.

There were little tremors running through me, aftershocks of the orgasm, aftershocks of feeling Seonghwa’s orgasm so close, of the raw pleasure it brought me to feel him release inside of me. But as the adrenaline started wearing off, I suddenly felt dizzy and boneless.

Seonghwa was like the devil, lips pressed to the shell of my ear and whispering, tattering off with hushed praises, hands caressing me and his weight comfortably pressing me down into the bed. I felt the warmth of his cum trickling down the cleft of my ass, escaping around his softening cock still lodged inside of me.

“You’re amazing darling, I had no idea you’d squirt for me like that,” I caught one of the things he muttered into my neck sweetly, kissing along the column of it in gently, “such a good girl for me…” Everything wavered, growing dark.

My eyes were closing by themselves, and I could barely keep myself awake enough to hear what he said next, the gravity making itself known once more and pulling my heavy body into the bedding. I slowly drifted off to his soft whispers and tender touches.

Waking up the next morning, if someone told me I got runover by a truck in my sleep, I’d have believed them. I’d fucking swear my body creaked when I tried to move, the muscles protesting and bones cracking into place one by one.

Upon stretching I realised that I was laid in clean sheets. I distinctly remembered falling asleep in a bed that was soaked through with release and sweat, the feeling of the cold wet bedding on my rapidly cooling skin was uncomfortable enough to burn into my memory. I was still naked though.

The next thing I noticed had mortification mixed with shame spreading through me rapidly and I didn’t know whether to blush or just burst out crying. I could feel the dried up cum coating my heat and thighs, meaning he didn’t clean me up afterwards.

I wanted to hate him and paint him in my mind as an asshole that didn’t give two shits about aftercare, since it wouldn’t be that big of a leap honestly, but if I got to know one thing about him yesterday, it’s that he most definitely left it on purpose.

Just as I was cursing him in my mind and figuring out how to take a shower while my entire body refused to work, there was a groan and a ruffle of sheets from behind me. I froze immediately and panic gripped me.

If the bastard didn’t even leave… Anyone could come in at any moment, there’s no explaining the fate that would befall me if I was caught here like this.

But when I finally willed myself through the panic to turn around and face it head on, there was my husband, sleeping like a baby. He was undressed and smelled absolutely horrendously, but it was him unmistakably. Unfortunately. A vague shape of a memory fought its way to the surface in my mind – blearing through sleepy eyes glued together at the shadow of Seonghwa pulling someone into the room, the rustling of sheets and nondescript cursing and thuds – before I got pulled back under.

Great. Just awesome

After few moments of struggling to stand up and balance my weight on my shaky unsteady knees, I finally managed to set out on my way to the bathroom. It was all across the suite and in the process, I got to witness the doom of our night together.

The poor sofa had a stain and a few splatters on it, and I didn’t wish to investigate their origin any further, so I moved through the tattered remains of my wedding dress that was split in the middle almost cleanly. At some point one of us had to knock over a champagne glass, because I almost stepped on it while looking over the dress, instead landing my foot in still a vaguely damp sticky pool of drying alcohol seeping into the carpet and lower tiers of the dress. I ignored the mortification and embarrassment at the clear display of complete mess and soldiered on shakily.

Getting to the bathroom was a whole ordeal, but when I made it, I had no idea the true show was yet to begin. There in mirror was my reflection, it was much clearer than the ones I had burned into my memory of yesterday, there were no blinding lights behind it, no dark sky to distract, only me covered in marks from head to toe, hair a fucked-out nest and eyes red-rimmed.

I breathed out a sigh, resignation setting in as I looked at the state of me. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t even have my makeup here, it was a hot summer outside. I would have to walk out of here eventually and I couldn’t hide even an inch of the reddish and purplish spots and bitemarks that littered the skin of my neck and the swell of my breasts. The bites tapered out a little there and I looked down, seeing the carnage that was my hips with vivid marks of fingers and hands printed on my skin.

For a moment I stood there, eyes squeezed shut and face pulled into a frustrated grimace, but then I just sighed deeply again, the tension quickly bleeding out of me. What was done, was done.

With slumped shoulders I dragged my feet to the shower, trying to make myself forget as much as possible and wash away all the evidence that could be taken off with the soft floral soap.

I hid away in the bathroom for as long as was humanly possible, going through all the extra steps of trying out the several samples of moisturizes and drying my hair until it was almost fried, even cleaning up after myself. If I had the solution, I’d even polish the fucking mirror, but eventually there came a knock on my door and a timid maid informed me I was eagerly awaited at the brunch. I waited to hear her leave, and then with shaky hands pushed the door open.

The room was already empty when I stepped out, but it was clean – the carpet with the dress were gone and the offending sofa stain was covered up with a throw blanket, I supposed until they could get to cleaning it. A single pile of folded clothes sat on the table.

I didn’t even question it until I had it in my hands and realised both the top and the skirt covered just enough to be decent, but most of the marks would be pretty much visible, the spaghetti straps barely covering anything and the slit between my top and bottom showing off the fingerprints on my waist. Rolling my eyes annoyedly I fucking immediately knew this was Seonghwa’s pick.

I was going to murder the man once I got my damn hands on him.

With no other choice left in the empty room, I put it on and made my way downstairs. It was a real walk of shame, all the eyes turning my way and examining my colourful state. Even knowing the staff were all aware it was my wedding night didn’t make it any easier, and at some point, I found the idea of them thinking this was Yujun’s job actually worse than knowing it was his brother. I shimmied quickly down the halls until I reached the little private salon where we were apparently being hosted.

Without realising how bad my day was about to get, I hurriedly rounded the partition and promptly froze in my tracks. This wasn’t a private breakfast. As soon as I stepped into the space, there was several sets of eyes trained on me, more sets than I was comfortable with.

At the head of the table sat my mother and Mrs. Park, both alternating between casting judging glances towards Yujun and towards me, on one side of the table sat three of Yujun’s obnoxious buddies and on the other I found myself once again face to face with Seonghwa.

He was eyeing me with undeniable interest, pupils dark and hungry. Proud. He liked the clothes. Liked showing me off. I flushed but thankfully the embarrassment was easily explainable by the sudden attention from everyone else, especially since Yujun’s bodies started murmuring something no doubt very inappropriate, judging by their lewd expressions.

It was awful and I wanted to fucking melt into the floor, so I stood there for few long moments battling myself to stay put and not turn on my heels and walk straight out of the hotel and into the sea.

Yujun was puffing up his chest, much to the distaste of our mothers sitting right by his side, but he was ignoring them and already sending looks to his friends and looking like a right idiot. I fought to keep the scowl off of my face, and when I finally forced myself to move to sit down in the only spot left at the table, I kicked Seonghwa who was grinning in a very much “cat who ate the canary” way.

The man barely reacted to me and continued leisurely eating his waffles, so self-satisfied it rolled off of him in fucking waves. And what was even worse, of course I had to sit in between him and Yujun. The gods couldn’t be more against me, but I soldiered on. I really had no other option.

I tried not to insert myself into the conversation too much. After the initial shock of my entrance wore off, the hum of amicable chat resumed. I ignored some very uncouth comments and soon they lost interest in teasing me when I stubbornly stared into my cup or food and didn’t react at all. The brunch dragged on with the air of awkwardness hanging over everybody, our mothers attempting to pull the table back to polite conversation while Yujun continued making an idiot out of himself by behaving like a fucking caveman.

Or maybe it was just me, my husband and his buddies certainly seemed in great spirits. I almost scoffed, managing to put my hand in front of my face last minute and cough. I heard Seonghwa’s quiet snickers to my right and registered my mother’s warning glance, and after that I didn’t speak another word.

And just when I thought I had escaped, with the empty plates signalling the end of the brunch was in sight, I felt a hand on my thigh. My right thigh. Seonghwa looked at me from the corner of his eye, lips dangerously curved into a playful smirk. I tensed, body slowly turning to stone.

Everybody else carried on.

My heart was pumping painfully, hands shaking. An awful feeling of despair set into me, my chest cavity filling with black tar while my head spun. What had I gotten myself into?

“Seonghwa, thank you for letting us use the hotel,” my mother said, completely clueless, “it was so very helpful.”

He laughed gently, hand squeezing my thigh possessively.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure.”

thank you for reading!

the divider taken from the amazingly talented @saradika-graphics

[luveline]

bombshell finds tickets to a russian movie thing sitting in spencer’s desk at work and they’re about to like run out (?) so she presents them to spencer and asks him on a date and pretends that she didn’t just pull them out of spencers desk in that bombshell way

You’re looking for gum. If Spencer were at his desk, you’d politely beg for a stick and he’d give it to you, but he’s not here, so you must search. 

You sit in his seat, slinking down as he does with poor posture, your kitten heels hitting the spine of a book kept under the desk. Your dress’ skirt rises up your thighs, the fabric at your neck pulls, but you have bigger problems. You’re feeling the weird franticness of unspent energy and only a stick of gum is gonna fix you. 

He has a drawer full of things, neatness traded for space. Blue and pink paper clips in an arrowhead shaped box. Push pins of all colours, their box more ordinary. He has a travel book on indigenous North American birds with stamps held between the pages, a plastic bottle cap, train stubs from Quantico to the station outside of his apartment and a bottle of ibuprofen missing half of its contents. 

Your fingers dig around for the familiar shape of a packet of gum, hesitating thoughtfully against the thread of a thicker cardstock. 

You pull a cream envelope from the desk and, perhaps wrongfully, unveil the contents: two tickets to see any Russian flick at the foreign language theatre free of charge (if you buy a large drink). They expire tonight. 

You press them to your chest and spin in Spencer’s chair without any regard for whoever might see you slouching. Across the office with his hair out of his face and a smile bordering lackadaisical stands your favourite. He even has a pencil in hand. He likes to underline things in the books he reads for your benefit. It’s the pencil that decides your next move. 

You stand up, brushing down your nice dress that he seems to like, a black cotton with thin pinstripes settling nicely just above your knees. You check your lipstick in the black reflection of his sleeping monitor, buzzing. 

He’s watching you when you turn back. You hide the tickets behind your hip and begin a light walk to his side, the chug of the printer a constant hum you can feel in your shoes. 

“What’s up?” he asks. 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” He squints. “You’re acting strange.” 

“Suspicious,” you correct. 

“That, too.” 

“How come you let me hold your hand?” 

Spencer doesn’t hide his surprise at your question very well. His eyes turn deer in the headlights, then down to the printer. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“When we first met, you wouldn’t shake my hand. And that’s okay,” —your smile is loving in the hope that he finds your question as the curiosity it is and not an interrogation— “I’m just wondering what changed.” 

“I was distracted.” He’s talking about the first time you took his hand, the two of you on the way to the office. “You stopped me from being late.” 

“Right, but I should’ve asked and I didn’t. And now we hold hands all the time.” You take a half step back. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m just wondering.”

“Nobody’s held my hand in a really long time. And you’re mostly clean.” 

“Mostly!” you laugh, giving him a guilty smile. “I’m super clean, I just forget how gross door handles are sometimes.”

You have embarrassed him, in a way. It’s really not what you meant to do, not when you’re about to ask him on a date. 

Ever since you started your official position at the BAU, you and Spencer have grown closer, but there’s a difference between flirting because he’s lovely and flirting because you want him to be your boyfriend. (Not that he knows what you want.) You shouldn’t have started with the hand holding thing. 

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you go on a date with me?” You present him with the movie tickets. “Got these, they expire tonight…”

“Are those from my desk?” he asks, taking the tickets from you to look over closely. 

“I’d love to go with you, unless you’re gonna take someone else, which is fine.” You embarrass yourself a little, even though you’re not, hoping it makes up for the hand-holding investigation. “Yeah, they’re from your desk. Sorry. I really wanted a stick of gum, my– my nervous energy is through the roof today.” 

Spencer frowns at you again. “How come?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” 

And that’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to him. Your perfect mask is broken, and Spencer doesn’t look at you any differently. “Do you actually wanna go to the movies?” he asks. 

“Only if I’m not stealing you away from somebody else.” 

“There’s no one else.”

Spencer abruptly turns his attention to the printer, where he collects his copies and shuffles them into a straight, neat pile. 

You recover quickly, though inside your heart is a stuttering mess. “I should hope not,” you say. “Okay. Awesome. I’ll bring hand sanitiser and you can hold my hand through the previews.” 

[eloves-writes]

guess

[carlos sainz x reader]

desc: you and carlos have been adamantly denying dating rumours for months, and a risky game of truth or dare reveals a secret you’ve been trying to keep.

warnings: alcohol, drivers are all drunk, maxiel crumbs, flashing underwear, slight exhibitionism, this is pretty PG tbh!

a/n: inspired by guess by charli xcx ofc. this was fun and my horny little brain wants to do a very cheeky part 2 so lmk if you want! (update: here is part 2! love yas) thanks 4 the love on my last few posts, requests are of course open for any of the drivers, love ya mwah mwah mwah!

this work contains suggestive themes, minors do not interact

—————————————————————

the after-party to the after-party was always guaranteed to be interesting, to say the least. it was the last race before the summer break, and you and the other drivers had hit the club in celebration only to end up sat around in max’s penthouse hotel room, heads still reeling from the amount of alcohol you’d all consumed. not so much the amount, really, but more that none of you drank during the races so your tolerance wasn’t what it could be. max, always opting for a bigger and nicer hotel room than probably necessary, was sat on his bed beside daniel, whilst you, carlos, and lando were opposite them on a plush sofa set. as per usual, you were the last 5 drivers standing after the more sensible of the bunch had retired to their own rooms. a bottle of wine sat open and half empty on the small coffee table beside a more full bottle of tequila, and the conversation was flowing amongst you like the 3am breeze that was flowing through the open balcony door.

you were trying not to pay too much attention to carlos; you’d been secretly seeing each other for a while, and usually it was easier to hide but alone with just 3 of your close friends you figured it was only a matter of time before one of them caught on to something. of course, they had, and it was lando in particular that noticed your distinct effort to not look at carlos at all tonight.

“we should play a game,” he said slowly, mischievous grin on his face.

daniel responded in agreement, max raising an eyebrow. “we’re not playing spin the bottle.”

“why is that always your first thought, max?” you laughed. carlos smiled and sipped his wine, enjoying the sound of your teasing laughter.

“truth or dare,” daniel said suddenly. “dare max to play spin the bottle!”

you all laughed again, apart from max who rolled his eyes. “no, no, i pick truth.”

“ok,” carlos noted. “if you had to race for any other team, where would you go?”

max pretended to think for a moment before replying. “nowhere. you’re all shit.”

“sorry, who just won in spa?” you exclaimed, recounting your latest victory in the mercedes. “and piastri finished ahead of you too.”

“ok, fine,” max replied in defeat. “i’m not answering.”

“that’s not the game!” lando eyed up the tequila. “if you don’t answer, or you don’t answer truthfully,” he shot a pointed look towards you and carlos, “you have to take a shot.”

you groaned. “i think we’ve all drunk enough, norris.”

he raised his hands innocently. “guess we’ll all have to play the game properly then.”

-

a couple of rounds later, you’d all done at least one more shot, a few team principals would be waking up to an interesting text in the morning, and daniel had salt on his bare stomach after you’d made max do a shot from his belly button. the questions were becoming increasingly dirty, you just narrowly avoiding a particularly evil fuck marry kill from daniel. it was carlos’s turn again, the spaniard sat back lazily next to you.

“truth or dare, carlitos,” lando baited with that same mischievous smile.

“truth.”

“i want you to guess,” he crowed. “what colour underwear y/n is wearing.”

a light blush tinged his tan cheeks. he knew full well what colour your underwear was, having taken it both on and off in the club bathroom not too long ago.

“fuck.” he looked to the shot glass on the table. he was already far too drunk, and not in the mind to be smart enough to just lie.

“red,” he answered, making it sound like a guess.

lando smirked. “interesting. y/n, truth or dare.”

“it’s not my turn,” you protested, looking to max and daniel who were just as eager to get some truth out of you both. you rolled your eyes, stupidly letting your mouth speak before your brain. “fine. dare.”

lando looked you dead in the eyes, then to carlos.

“i dare you to show us what colour your underwear is.”

the aftertaste of the tequila was still sweet in your mouth and the thought of another shot made you a little nauseous. fuck it, you thought. guess this was one way to let the cat out of the bag. it wasn’t like the guys hadn’t seen your underwear before; you were admittedly somewhat of a party girl, the tiny skirts you wore left little to the imagination and you’d been around them in a bikini more times than you could count anyway.

carlos watched you with apprehension, unsure of what you were going to do but comfortable enough with the guys to know what happened in this hotel room would stay here, and if you wanted to give them a flash of the perfect ass he got to grab onto every night whilst he fucked you then he was ok with that too. in fact, his jeans tightened slightly at the passing thought of fucking you in front of them to really show who’s you were.

you stood up, grabbing onto the arm of the sofa for support as you found your balance.

“you’re a perv, lando, asking to see my panties,” you teased. max and daniel had a matching look of amusement, the latter wolf-whistling as you turned around and pushed the fabric of your mini dress up to your hips. red and lacy, fit snugly over your pretty ass. you dropped the fabric and sat back down, making eye contact with carlos who looked like he wanted to pounce on you there and then.

“lucky guess,” daniel quipped.

carlos finished his glass of wine and smirked. “didn’t have to guess.”

lando let out a cheer. “i knew it!” he shouted.

“you guys kind of suck at keeping secrets,” max added. “thanks for that little show though.”

“watch it, verstappen,” carlos countered, moving closer to you and placing a possessive hand at the top of your thigh. “wouldn’t want to have to give you a bigger show now, would i?”

one person asks and i’ll write a part two where he does in fact give them a bigger show

[yokohamapound]

ok but like consider,, dazai, akutagawa, kunikida and atsushi (or anyone else u wanna add my request is mainly for akutagawa and kunikida) working alone and you open your coat to reveal you're just wearing lingerie underneath <3

Ah, such a classic move! <3

Characters: Kunikida Doppo, Dazai Osamu, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakajima Atsushi, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: gn!reader, exhibitionism, semi-public sex, mild derogatory dirty talk

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida is often to be found working late in the Armed Detective Agency’s office, especially after the conclusion of a case. Or if Dazai has been especially a pain in the ass that day and prevented Kunikida from keeping to his packed work schedule. Kunikida is not the type of man who’ll let the day’s work slip over to tomorrow. That’s how nations start to crumble (according to him). 

Hours after the rest of the agency have gone home, even Fukuzawa, Kunikida is still there, typing away at his laptop, the glare of the screen making his glasses seem opaque. His only concession to the late hour is a half-drunk cup of coffee sitting beside the laptop. 

His head twists around when the door to the agency office opens. Who could it be this late at night? Atsushi coming to check up on him? Dazai coming to sleep on the couch again? He tenses when he sees the tan colour of a trenchcoat through the wavy glass of the office door, but his shoulders loosen when he sees you in the doorway. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks you, turning back to finish that last bit of paperwork. “And what’s with the coat? You’re not trying to dress like Dazai now, are you?”

He hopes not. Kunikida doesn’t need to be jump-scared like that every time you meet up with him. He’s only half-listening when you give him some excuse about being cold. Faintly, he picks up the sound of high heels clicking against the polished floorboards as you make your way over to him. He catches a hint of perfume as you come to stand at his shoulder. 

“I’m almost finished,” he grunts, his fingers flying so fast across the keyboard they seem to blur slightly at the edges. He’s tired, and it must be late indeed if you’ve come to pick him up. He turns his head to ask about what you two should pick up for dinner on the way home, when his jaw falls open like someone pulled out a screw holding it shut.

You’ve allowed your trenchcoat to fall open, revealing your body clad in scraps of structured silk and lace. Something classy and timeless, in soft cream or sultry black. It’s like something out of an old movie or a vintage catalogue. Kunikida’s glasses steam up briefly, before he slams his laptop closed.

“Doppo,” you chide, faking a gasp. “You didn’t put a period on that last sentence of your paperwork. You can’t just leave it…unfinished like that.”

Kunikida pulls off his glasses, his expression stern. “This time,” he proclaims, his voice deep and momentous, “I’ll make an exception.”

Kunikida drives you home, driving so close to the speed limit he’s practically edging it, with one hand buried firmly between your thighs. If you’re very misbehaved, he might use his notebook to conjure something to keep you…occupied…on the drive home.

Dazai Osamu

You went one better for this and stole Dazai’s trenchcoat. Let’s leave it up for debate whether he knew what you were up to and let you steal his coat to pull off your little performance—it’s more fun that way. 

Because it’s Dazai, you arrange to meet at a bar for a date. Preferably one where he’s not already run up a tab or been slapped by all of the female bartenders and waiting staff. There are a few of those left in Yokohama, you just have to look really hard for them. 

When you arrive, Dazai is sitting on a barstool, one foot propped on the footrest, his elbows on the bar. He’s sans trenchcoat, dressed in his dark waistcoat, with the sleeves of his blue pinstripe shirt rolled up to his mid-forearm, revealing the bandages wrapped around his wrists. Spotting you in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar, he glances over at you. Dazai’s dark eyes sweep over you from head to toe, and he immediately knows there’s something interesting going on beneath that trenchcoat.

“You know,” he drawls. “I lost a coat just like that this morning. It’s quite the startling coincidence, don’t you think?”

He's so intrigued that he even cracks open his wallet to buy you a drink (shocking, I know). Dazai's eyes are glued to the sight of you cinched into his coat. His eyes drop down when you sit on the barstool beside him, crossing your legs. His fingers tighten around the cut crystal of his glass. 

"Is that...lace?"

At your smug confirmation that is indeed lace, Dazai knocks back his drink. No time to savour the liquor. He pinches the hem of the trenchcoat and lifts it up a little further to see the stocking clinging to your thigh. 

Dazai's eyes glint dangerously in the dim overhead lights of the bar. 

"Bella." His voice is a lusty purr as his hand runs up your thigh, fingers plucking at the top of your stocking, tracing circles into your soft flesh. "I'll give you a thirty second head start. When I catch up to you..."

I hope you can find somewhere relatively private in the next thirty seconds. 

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

If you thought it might be a good idea to copy the move above and wear Akutagawa’s trenchcoat over your lingerie, let me gently pry that idea from your eager little hands. It is not a good idea, and it will not end well. Just get your own trenchcoat. Maybe in a nice shade of camel?

Akutagawa waits impatiently for you in the middle of town, watching the civilians amble around between stores, his eyes narrowed in irritation. He doesn't know why you asked to meet him here, but it feels like a waste of his time. He decides he will wait only five more minutes before he leaves.

A flicker of something pale from the corner of his eye. It's a Pavlovian response—Akutagawa's head whips around. Instead of his former master, he instead spots you click-clacking toward him in a pair of heels, wrapped in a light trenchcoat. Hair? Done. Make-up? Flawless. 

Akutagawa's forehead furrows, his voice pitched low with annoyance and confusion. "Why are you wearing that?"

You're used to his pricky demeanour by now and it doesn't faze you. You turn so you are facing away from the crowds, slowly untying the belt. You peel open the front of the waistcoat enough to give Akutagawa a glimpse of what lies underneath. 

Black lace. Smooth skin. Silk. 

His throat tightens, and for once it doesn't signal the onset of a coughing fit. Akutagawa's eyes widen, his teeth and fists clenching.

"What in the hells are you wearing?" he demands.

"Lingerie," you say, retying the the belt of your trenchcoat. "Don't you like it?"

Akutagawa knows every alley and alcove of Yokohama. Every blind spot and dead end. He puts this knowledge to good use as he manhandles you into the nearest semi-private spot. Bands of Rashoumon wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you up against the alleyway wall. 

Akutagawa's pale hands tremble with suppressed excitement as he unties the trenchcoat and peels it open again. The sight of you, dressed in such a lewd fashion and bound, makes his cock harden fast enough to make him dizzy. His voice is low, curt.

"If you insist on dressing like a harlot, I shall treat you like one. After all, that is what you wanted, is it not? My attention."

Please don't worry about making any noise. He'll simply use Rashoumon to gag you. <3

Nakajima Atsushi

Oh dear, are you trying to give the poor boy a heart attack?

Atsushi is at the Armed Detective Agency office alone. Perhaps it's lunchtime and the rest of the agents and staff have retired downstairs for coffee and lunch at Cafe Uzumaki. Atsushi needs to finish his report, or he's flat broke and doesn't want to have to mooch of Kunikida in the cafe again, so he's eating some cold rice balls at his desk.

He sputters on a mouthful of onigiri when the door swings open, popping up like a daisy from his desk, expecting it to be a client. He sags in relief when he sees it is just you, hastily brushing some grains of rice from the front of his shirt.

“Hi!”

Oh, he’s so chirpy to see you. It really is adorable. Look at how the smile blossoms on his face. There are practically sparkles coming off him as he heads toward you. 

Only for Atsushi to stop in his tracks when you casually untie the front of your coat and flash him the sight of your body in sweet, pink-and-white lingerie. You’re frosted in lace and frills like a little cupcake, and Atsushi’s brain jams like the printer.

“H-buh? Whuh? You…you…”

His face burns crimson, standing out stark against his white hair, and he whips his head around to make sure there is no one else in the office, even though he’s relatively sure he’s alone. Atsushi grabs the front of your coat and covers you up, flushing when you laugh at his embarrassment.

“What are you wearing?” he hisses, his eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you wearing it here?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise~”

“It is,” he stammers. “It’s very…it’s so nice.” He opens the coat a little, peeking at what lies beneath, before closing it again, his ears burning. “But…but not here. Maybe at home?”

You give an airy shrug. “Perhaps you can tell Kunikida you weren’t feeling well so you had to go home early?”

Smash cut to Atsushi fake-coughing down the phone to Kunikida. 

Nakahara Chuuya

It's late. Yokohama is a glittering sprawl beneath the windows of Chuuya's plush office. The office is dim, save for the light of his laptop screen and the recessed, moody red lighting of his shelves. He eases away from his emails, rubbing at his eyes, and crosses the room to pour himself a whiskey from the cut glass decanters. 

For Chuuya, 'working late' often involves taking a few heavies and going to threaten someone, not sitting and trawling through emails, but now and then he needs to engage with the corporate bullshit that comes with being an executive. 

The buzz of his personal phone draws his attention. He scoops it up, his thumb tapping the screen. He has his gloves made custom so they work with touchscreens. A text message from you pops open and he grins, leaning against the edge of his desk. 

The image is simple, but evocative. Smooth skin under red lace. He's not even entirely sure which body part it is, but it's tantalising all the same. He's sure he'll find out after your dinner reservation that evening. Steak, of course.

A knock sounds at his office door and he lets out an annoyed grunt, immediately locking his phone and laying it facedown on his desk. 

"Yeah, come in."

His annoyance evaporates the moment you saunter in, all high heels and cinched black trenchcoat. And damn, is that red lipstick? It is. 

"Hey, doll. Whatcha doin' here?" 

He's running his gaze over that trenchcoat, trying to imagine what you're wearing underneath. His smile widens into a full-blown grin when you turn and lock the door behind you. 

"Don't know where this is comin' from, but I like where it's goin'."

You make a show of it, untying the knot on the belt, letting the smooth fabric rasp as it slides against itself. First baring one shoulder, then the next, shimmying the coat off you like its a fur stole. It crumples to the ground, leaving you in all your glory.

Chuuya drags a hand down his face, letting out a low, ragged laugh that sounds just this side of feral.

"Fuck, dollface..."

Bro launches himself at you, pushing you up against the back of his office door. His gloved hands slide over your bare skin, gravity starting to make less and less of an impression on you as he floats you. His mouth crushes against yours. 

Unfortunately, you miss your dinner reservation by several hours. 

[moondirti]

privateer! johnny mactavish, whose only job is to raid and rob foreign vessels under arms, taking them for condemnation and their crews as prisoner for exchange. he isn’t a pirate per se – he really prefers the term corsair, if the letter of marque framed in his cap’s office has anything to say about that—

finds a stowaway on his very own ship. clever little thing must have wormed her way through from another vessel during one of their assaults, because gaz makes good work of checking for hitchers before they sail off. she’s malnourished, dangerously close to developing scurvy, arms bruised in a way no bird’s should be. hair matted, face caked in gunpowder and salt. she can hardly voice her pleas when he comes across her while looking for extra ammunition.

but there’s no need to worry. johnny’s a good man, from a good name. sure he might look a little crazed, sea legs and beard veiling the hero underneath – as though he were just another buccaneer who paves their life’s path taking from innocents – but he only does so to those who deserve it. promise.

and you don’t look like you do. virtuous thing. pretty thing, like a fresh-shelled pearl who has yet to be polished. he won’t tell the crew about your transgression. in fact, he won’t tell them anything about you at all; especially not simon, who treats him as though he were nothing more than an extension of himself. no. this is for him, and for him alone.

he’ll keep you in his room. give you a nice place to rest. feed you orange slices until the colour blooms behind your cheeks. give you baths with a washcloth when he can. checks what all the fuss is about when you cover your tits protectively – he’s only cutting the dirty garbs of ye – to discover that, so long as he assures you that what he’s doing is in your best interest, you’ll let him get away with anything.

like stuffing his nasty fingers in your cunt, tongue notched down your throat to muffle your cries. like feeding you his cock after successful raids, the cork off a bottle of rum plugging your tight ass shut. like folding you in half and jackhammering into your womb, months worth of pent-up sexual energy laying itself onto your poor body.

all the while – as you grow more wary, exhausted – his delusion grows worse.

because what kind of alternative fate would you find out there, with the brutes he calls friends? better off with him, lass. even if you are constantly dripping cum, growing dizzy in his bed while he’s away. at least he was taught how to treat a woman right.

(can’t say the same about simon, who hasn’t fallen short on noticing johnny’s shift in behaviour. the new gait in his step, the dazzle of his smile. his bunk’s only a few doors away, after all. some nights, he swears that the creaks of his bed frame are too loud for even the stormiest of seas to spur.)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bike II

Chelsea Women x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're good at bike riding

"I'm so tired," Erin complains, fanning herself," God, it's hot today."

"I need a nap," Millie agrees.

"A nap and to do nothing for the rest of the day," Niamh says as she passes by, stripping off her sweaty training shirt," I'm just going to go home and melt."

"Home and an ice cream," Zećira continues, nodding and completely satisfied with her plan," I can't wait to get home."

"You'll all have to wait," Magda says decisively from the day. She'd come in earlier than everyone else, taking you into the building for a toilet and hydration break.

Most of the team had actually been quite worried about you.

This heat is sweltering and you're still tiny and excitable with energy that makes you run all over the field. It's like an accident waiting to happen.

Pernille had you stop and take long drinks from your water bottle all through practice until it ran out and she sent you off with Magda to fill it up.

You and Magda never came back though so everyone just presumed you'd already been bundled up in the car where there's air conditioning to use while you wait for Pernille to finish up and change.

"There's a surprise out the front."

"Is it an ice cream van?" Guro asks," Because that's the only thing that will make me happy right now."

"It's not an ice cream van."

"Then I'm out."

"No you're not," Magda says sternly," You're all going out the front with a smile and you're going to celebrate and clap and give compliments. Got it?"

"It's hot," Sam complains," Can't we rearrange this surprise?"

"No, Sam. We're doing it now."

"Give them a second to change, Magda," Pernille says," We're all hot. We're all irritable. Give them a sec."

Magda huffs. "Fine. I'll be out the front." She points a finger at everyone in turn. "I expect you all out there in ten minutes."

Pernille manages to shepherd everyone out in five.

"Right," Millie says, adjusting her cap so it properly shades her from the beating sun," What's-Oh."

"Look!" You say," I'm riding my bike!"

You peddle quickly around the car park, little legs pumping as you turn your handlebars so you're going around in circles.

You're doing impressively well on your bike, a very slow for an adult but fast for a little kid. It's even more impressive when the team note that you've not got any stabilisers.

A little basket that wasn't originally there when Sam bought it sits on the front and in it sits your swan and moose toy as well as a little bouquet of flowers that Pernille bought you at the market this morning.

Most of the team is speechless until Jessie starts clapping.

"Well done!" She calls out," You're doing so well!"

You beam at the praise, puffing out your chest in pride and pump your legs even faster.

Magda also puffs out her chest and Pernille has to smother her laughter.

"I taught her to ride," Magda brags," We took her stabilisers off last week. Isn't she so good?"

"The best!" Jessie agrees warmly, still clapping.

"Best ever!" Sam yells out," Look at you go!"

The team seem to have forgotten their exhaustion as you skid to a stop nearly half an hour later, everyone crowding around you as you pant from your cycling.

"Look at this!" Zećira exclaims," It's such a cool colour!"

"It's red," You tell her," Like Arsenal and Sweden's goalkeeper shirt! I love red!"

"It is!" Zećira says, nodding along," And you've got a little basket!"

"For my toys," You tell her," And my water bottle. And I've got a bell!"

You demonstrate by flicking it, letting the noise rings out through the car park.

"That's so cool!"

You grin at Zećira before looking at Jessie, suddenly shy.

"Did I do good, Jessie?"

She grins at you, ruffling your hair. "So good. I'm very impressed. I didn't know you could ride a bike!"

"Morsa taught me," You explain," And Momma did too. At the park. They say if I keep practicing and getting better and better we can all do a ride together! Do you want to go on a bike ride with me, Jessie?"

Jessie grins. "I'd love to."

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 6

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Amren bashing, Azriel is an idiot, Eira has a well-deserved crying fit and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

"Do I want to know what your mother said to you?" Cassian asked him with a sigh the next morning. They were at the River House. 

Eira was still sleeping. Or again. Resting. Pure exhaustion apparent in every fibre of her being. She had stumbled up the stairs the night before, fell into her bed and hadn’t moved. Feyre and Nesta were both with her, had been with her since then... 

Azriel let out a small huff, and glanced at Cassian from his couch seat.

“No,” he said bluntly. “No, you really don’t want to know.”

"You're brooding," Cassian pointed out. Azriel snorted at his brother’s observation, crossing his arms.

“And you’re observant,” he said dryly. “Your point?”

Cassian huffed in amused annoyance and shoved him playfully. “Come on. Out with it,” he said, propping his feet on the coffee table, his wings shifting behind him. “You’ve been quiet and broody and grumpy all morning. You need to talk about it.”

"Talk about what? Talk about the fact that whatever Amren said to my mate was enough to push her head first into a panic so bad that she winnowed? Burned down half a forest accidentally?" Azriel asked, his voice forcedly even. "Or about the fact that I needed my mother to call me out on my bullshit because I am a fucking idiot ?"

"Language," Rhys said with a sigh, trying and failing to feed Nyx his porridge.

Cassian rolled his eyes in annoyance at Rhys’s words, while Azriel gave his high lord a flat look.

“Are you seriously going to get on me for my language?” he asked Rhys dryly. “Out of everything I just said?

"I do not need a fight with Feyre, because our son starts repeating your curse words," Rhys muttered.

Cassian snorted at that, and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, shaking his head.

Somehow, even right now, when everything was such a mess, Rhys still managed to find ways to be a caring father.

“Can we focus on something more important?” Azriel said, his voice a grumble. “Like the fact that I’m failing as a mate?”

Cassian’s snort turned into a choke at Azriel’s comment, his eyes going wide. “Failing as a mate? You? You’re kidding, right?”

Azriel scowled at Cassian’s shocked response.

“And how exactly is it possible that I’m not failing?” he demanded, his hands clenching into fists. “Because I can think of many, many ways, Cass.”

“What exactly have you done that qualifies as failure?” Cassian countered, shifting position so that he mirrored Azriel’s pose. “Because I’m really drawing a blank.”

"I fancied myself in love with her twin sister and pretty much used Eira as nothing but a source of information about Elain. Then, when I realised that Eira was my mate, I asked for permission to court her and within that conversation somehow found it prudent to say that Elain was the pretty one but Eira was the kind one and would protect our children fiercely. Then I gave her a harp as a courting gift, while she needed to sell her old one to keep her family from starving and nobody ever even thought about the fact that maybe that would bring up some bad memories. Then instead of asking what she wanted to do, I decided on the symphony, where I spent 3 hours sitting next to her in silence because all I could concentrate on was the fact that she held my hand . I have no fucking clue if sewing and baking and cooking are actually her hobbies or just the chores she liked best and I don't even know her favourite colour. Tell me how I am not failing, Cassian!"

Cassian opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly at a loss for words.

Azriel let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

He knew he had screwed up. That he had failed miserably in so many ways. But saying the words aloud…hearing them said out loud…somehow just made it even more real.

He slumped down in his seat, burying his head in his hands.

“You…you really are an idiot, Az…” Cassian finally managed to say, his voice quiet as he spoke. 

Azriel knew that. 

"I told Nesta that everybody hates her," Cassian admitted quietly. "I didn't tell her that I loved her until after our fucking mating ceremony. I have no clue what her favourite colour is either, now that I am thinking about it."

When Cassian told him that, Azriel’s eyes flew open and he looked up at his brother, his jaw slackening.

“You what?” he demanded, not quite believing what he’d just heard.

"Not my best moments," Cassian admitted drily.

Azriel let out a choked snort at his brother’s reply, and he buried his head in his hands again.

“And you said I’m the idiot?” he asked faintly.

“We’re both idiots,” Cassian said matter-of-factly, flopping back against the couch cushions. “Maybe all males are idiots.”

"I didn't tell Feyre about the dangers the pregnancy put her in," Rhys said quietly. "I didn't tell her we were mates at first either. I am sure there are dozens of other things I did, where I failed as a mate."

Azriel sighed, and he let his hand drop to his lap, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re really not helping,” he said, his voice quiet. “I shouldn’t feel better about being a failure as a mate because my brothers are failures too.“

Cassian snickered at Azriel’s response, but Rhys let out a huff and gave him an amused smile.

“I’m just saying,” he began, his eyes soft. “You’re far from the only person to have ever messed up with a mate, Azriel. Hell, the list of things I did wrong with Feyre is longer than your arm.”

Azriel closed his eyes again, letting out a sigh as he rested his head back against the couch cushions.

He knew that Rhys was right. Knew that all the males around him were speaking the truth. He wasn’t the only one to have messed up with a mate.

But somehow, knowing that didn’t make the knowledge that he had failed feel any less raw. Any less painful.

“I don’t want to fail,” Azriel said quietly. “I don’t want to put her through…this pain. But I feel like that’s all I’m doing. All I did was let my own emotions and wants and desires drown out what Eira really needed“

"Then maybe you should ask Eira what Eira actually wants," Cassian said with a snort.

...And he was already back to making the exact same error as before, wasn't he? That should have been his first thought.

Azriel closed his eyes again, letting out another weary sigh.

“How?” he mumbled. “How do I go to her and say ‘Hey, I realize that I did everything wrong so far. And I failed you and I’m an idiot, so how about you and I can start everything over from the beginning?’”

A hand, strong and heavy, descended on the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

“By doing it,” Rhys said firmly, a hint of a smile on his face. “By looking her straight in the eye and telling her what you just admitted to us. She deserves the honesty.“

“And when she says ‘no’? When she says she wants nothing to do with a failure and idiot of a male like me?” Azriel asked bitterly. “What then?”

"She won't," Rhys said calmly. "She won't, Azriel. She has been in love with you for years."

Azriel let out a sharp huff at Rhys’s statement. “Even more reason not to take me back,” he grumbled in response. “She’s loved me for that long and that’s all I come up with? Silence and stupidity? If I were her, I would reject me too."

"Just talk to her," Cassian said with a sigh. "We have enough other problems to deal with that aren't your brooding, Az."

There were so many other things to deal with. So many other things more important than his brooding.

Maybe there weren't many other things that were more important than his relationship with Eira, but still…

“Fine,” he mumbled at last, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll talk to her.” 

He needed to talk to her. Once she was awake. In the meantime… "What did you do to Amren?" he asked Rhys, who looked up startled.

“We had words,” Rhys said clippedly. “I suggested that she'll stay with Varian in the Summer Court for a few weeks. She’ll be welcome in Velaris when she can apologise to Eira and actually mean it.” Rhys’ voice was icy when he said that. “And I am due to have another conversation with Morrigan because I am not letting her get away with it either. Which reminds me, Cassian, you also owe Eira an apology,” Rhys pointed out evenly.

Cassian grimaced. “I know,” he admitted with a sigh. “I just really doubt that she wants to hear it,” he admitted quietly. 

Rhys sighed. "Which brings me to our next problem: I didn't want to push it...but we need to get Eira to train."

Azriel inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Of course, they would need to talk about that. Part of him was even surprised that Rhys had waited that long to bring up training.

"She needs control," Rhys continued, holding up a hand. "I am not talking about training her to kill anybody. I am talking about her learning to control her...lightning. And maybe some self-defence if she is up to that."

Azriel nodded in agreement. As much as he hated the thought of any sort of violence being aimed toward Eira — hated the mere idea of seeing her get hurt again — he knew that Rhys was right.

She needed to know how to control herself. To protect herself. She needed to know how to fight.

Azriel nodded again, raking a trembling hand back through his hair.

A part of him felt like he was betraying Eira by agreeing to this. Like he was failing her again. But another part, the part of him that was a warrior, that knew how to fight, that knew the dangers that came with not being able to defend yourself…that part of him agreed with Rhys.

"I'll be the bad guy," Rhys said with a sigh. "I'll be the one asking her. I hope I'll get away without outright ordering her."

Azriel let a small huff at Rhys’s comment.

He knew that if anyone had a chance at convincing Eira to train, it would be Rhys. But that didn’t help the pang of guilt at the thought of his mate receiving further training — being forced into training to begin with.

“And this arrived yesterday,” Rhys said with a sigh as he dropped an envelope in front of them. 

Azriel’s mouth flattened as he looked down at the envelope, his heart dropping at the sight of the Day Court symbol.

Cassian let out an identical, weary sigh as they also caught sight of the symbol.

Everyone in the room knew what that invitation meant.

"Feyre and I are required to attend," Rhys said quietly. "If Nesta won't go...there will be talk. Maybe less talk if Eira doesn't attend, but there will be talk about strive between the sisters, regardless of what information we feed them."

Azriel had to grit his teeth to hold back from letting out a snarl.

He knew Rhys was right. Knew that there would be talk no matter what.

But the thought of Eira being forced to attend that wedding...forced to endure Elain’s presence… He clenched his fist and took in a deep breath through his nose.

He was not going to like this. “If Eira goes, I go,” he spat out. 

Rhys’s mouth flattened for a moment, and Azriel braced himself for a fight.

Instead, his brother just gave him a short nod. “I expected nothing less, brother,” he said quietly.

****

Eira had slept. The first restful night in quite a while.

She still felt exhausted. Still felt like the world around her was...blurry. But it didn’t feel like all her energy had been sapped from her body, forcing her into unconsciousness.

It was an improvement.

"How are you feeling?" Feyre asked her softly. Nesta and she were curled around Eira in her bed...reminding her of their days in that bed in that cottage. Just one thing was lacking: Elain.

“I’m...better than I was last night,” she mumbled truthfully, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “…Still tired though.”

"You winnowed without training. That should probably be expected," Nesta said drily. 

"You also nearly put Amren on fire with your lightning," Feyre said with a grimace, and Eira flinched.

"She had that coming," Nesta growled. "What did she tell you? Were you a waste of life as well?" Eira flinched again, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself.

She didn’t want to talk about Amren. Didn’t want to talk about anything that had happened. Didn’t want to think about anything that had happened.

She just wanted to…sleep. She wanted to forget. Let her eyelids close. Drift away. Not feel so goddamn tired…

"She told her that not training her powers was a waste," Feyre said quietly. "That Eira owed it to me because I hunted and apparently kept her alive . It was absolutely out of line and ridiculous."

A fresh wave of heat rushed to Eira’s cheeks as Feyre explained what had happened, and a pang of shame went to her stomach. 

Because Amren was right. She did owe it to Feyre. That, and so much more. Feyre had cared for her. Hunted for her. Protected her. And what had Eira done in return? Nothing. Nothing but fail.

“You know-“ she began to ask, her words cutting awkwardly off as she felt a pang of guilt stabbed her chest.

“Yeah, I know what she said to you,” Feyre replied, her eyes soft. “Rhys got the whole thing out of her…He had a few things to say…I had a few choice words to say to her myself.”

Eira’s heart dropped into her stomach. She should’ve known that Rhys would have found out. He seemed to find out everything sooner or later. She winced, suddenly feeling even more guilty.

"I am sorry," Eira whispered. "I didn't want...I'll...I'll train. I'll learn how to control it. I'll..." She would hate every minute but if it made it easier for Feyre, she would...

“No,” Feyre told her softly, but firmly. “You will not be doing anything to make my life easier, Eira. You owe me nothing. Do you understand me?”

She wrapped her arms around Eira tightly and rested her head against Eira’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do anything. For me. For anyone. Understand?” she murmured softly. 

"Training would be a good idea, but you don't need to do that for me," Feyre whispered. "Do it for yourself, Eira."

Eira’s throat tightened, and she swallowed thickly.

She didn’t want to do any sort of training. She didn’t want to do anything in that moment.

She just wanted to lie in bed. Forget about the world. And yet…she knew that training would be a smart idea. That she did need to learn how to control her...lightning. And she didn’t want a repeat of last night. With great reluctance, she swallowed again. “I…alright,” she mumbled. “I’ll…I’ll train. And learn how to control…my…lightning.“

She hated the words as soon as they escaped her mouth, but she didn’t take them back. She knew it was the right thing to do…even if she didn’t like it.

"I know you're not looking forward to it," Feyre said drily, and Eira smiled despite herself. A tiny, reluctant smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Who's…going to…" she began, before trailing off. “Who's going to be training me?”

"Not Amren," Nesta snapped immediately.

The words were like a weight being lifted from Eira’s chest. She was relieved more than she cared to admit that Amren wouldn’t be the one training her…and then guilt immediately set in. She shouldn’t feel so relieved. So happy. Amren had done nothing but be harsh but the truth to her, and yet…she still couldn’t stop herself from being happy that the female wouldn’t be training her.

“…That, we know already,” Feyre deadpanned as she shot her sister a fond smile. “But you’re right. Nobody is thinking about having Amren train Eira. It’ll probably be Rhys if you are comfortable with that.”

She took a deep breath.

Rhys.

Rhys was…good. She could deal with Rhsy training her. Out of all the options…he was good. It could be worse, she tried to tell herself.

“Doesn't he have...anything more important to do?” Eira asked hesitantly.

She knew that Rhys was the High Lord and…surely he didn’t have time to deal with her. Surely, he had more important things to deal with than training some…somebody like her. 

She was…waste of time, and she didn’t want to be any more of a burden on him than she already was.

“He’ll figure it out,” Feyre replied, giving her a soft smile. “He’ll make time, Eira. He’s good like that.”

Nesta made an annoyed sound, making Feyre roll her eyes.

Eira swallowed again, the words not really doing anything to reassure her that she wasn’t wasting Rhys’s time.

Rhys was important. The High Lord. He shouldn’t have to waste his time with her . She knew that she couldn’t say those things. Couldn’t make Feyre or Nesta realize how ridiculous this whole thing was…how insane it was to have the High Lord of the Night Court as her teacher .

“It’ll be fine,” Feyre repeated, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "Now...how was...your meeting with Azriel's mother yesterday?" Feyre asked. "I need to admit, I didn't even know that his mother was still....alive," she admitted with a grimace.

"He mentions her...very rarely," Nesta disagreed quietly. "She's a seamstress though...She made him a jacket he wore for solstice once."

Eira hadn't known that…but then she also hadn’t known that his mother was still alive. He had never mentioned her to Eira at all. And Esmeray…Esmeray was the last thing Eira wanted to talk about. Eira didn't want to walk about...about what she had said.

"She…was nice. Sweet, like Azriel," Eira answered quietly, swallowing. "She was...maternal. Not like our mother was." It was true. She was sweet…kind…lovely. 

Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance. "But?" Feyre prompted her quietly. "Did she say....anything?"

Eira didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes. “Talk to us,” Nesta said softly. “What did she say, Eira?” 

"She figured out who I was after I told her my first name...and then she said that Azriel is fond of me but he is fonder of Elain..and that it's too bad that she is mated to another," Eira blurted out, her voice shaky. "He didn't tell her...He didn't tell her that our…that the mating bond had snapped." She could feel the tears burn in her eyes.

"Oh, Eira," Feyre breathed, sounding heartbroken for her.

"I am going to fucking kill him," Nesta muttered.

“Get in line,” Feyre grumbled, and Eira could just feel the scowl her friend was shooting at Azriel in her head.

She swallowed again, feeling the guilt and the shame and the hurt and the….everything, rising up in her chest.

She didn’t want to be upset at this. Didn’t want to feel like…like she had a claim over Azriel, but she couldn’t help the painful pang in her chest at the words Esmeray had said.

Too bad that Elain is mated to another… 

He is fonder of Elain… 

Those words, they just hurt. They burned. And she felt so...helpless.

And the thought that he hadn’t told his mother about their mating bond…it just made the pain even worse.

"Azriel...he said…when he asked me to court…he said that Elain was the pretty one but I was the kind one," Eira choked out. "He wanted her. I am just...I am just a consolation prize to him, aren't I?"

For a moment it was silent. 

"First of all," Feyre said firmly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You are not a consolation prize. Don't ever let me hear you say that again, alright? You are not a consolation prize, you are a treasure ."

"Second," she continued, her voice growing cold. "He is an idiot. Who the hell tells you that? Why would he say that?"

Eira shrugged, feeling her eyes burn.

She didn't know. She didn't understand why he would say that. Why he had said any of what he had said? 

But she knew that...part of her, part of her hoped that he had meant it in an endearing way. That he had called her kind because he liked that about her.

"I thought...I thought just having him could be enough," she whispered. "But how am I supposed to live my whole life knowing that he would be happier if he was mated to Elain? To be compared to her day, after day, and found lacking?"

"For Fuck's sake, Eira!" Nesta snapped.

"He only wants me because of the bond. And maybe because of the vision he saw...he wants the babies we would have together, but he doesn't want me," she choked out. "Every other female would suffice as well."

"Stop that. You know that's not true," Feyre said firmly, wrapping an arm around Eira's shoulders again. "He cares about you; I've seen it for myself."

Eira choked on a bitter laugh. "What does it matter," she whimpered. "He might care...but Elain is still what he wants. Nothing will change that...not even the Mating Bond."

"Azriel...he's an idiot," Nesra agreed angrily. "A complete idiot who can't see that you...you're right in front of him. Yeah, Elain may be the most beautiful out of us all, but she’s clearly bone deep ugly, if she…she tried to keep your babies from you?” Nesta asked and Eira just nodded, tears pouring out of her eyes. 

“A girl,” she choked out. “A girl. Azriel’s wings but my hair. We looked so happy in that stupid vision. And I was pregnant again.” 

Feyre’s mouth fell open as she stared at Eira in shock, while Nesta’s eyes hardened furiously. “She...really…” Feyre’s voice trailed off, sounding heartbroken.

Nesta let out a loud, furious snarl. “She’s a monster . Elain is a monster ,” she spat, her hands forming into fists. 

“She…she tried to keep my babies from me,” Eira repeated, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Azriel and I…looking happy…and...and now...I..."

She had to pause, the tears making it impossible for her to continue.

Both Feyre and Nesta wrapped their arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“It’s not fair,” she choked out. “It’s not fair. I saw us. I saw how happy we were…”

It was as clear as day in her memory. That vision of them in that garden, of Azriel kissing her, of the little girl being hoisted up in the air by him…

Eira had looked so happy. Everything had been so perfect, so right…it had almost made her dizzy. It had been everything she had ever wanted. 

Only to have it ripped away. To know that she’d had a chance at happiness, a chance at…of a family, of everything that she had always wanted…only to have it ripped away so cruelly…

It hurt. It hurt more than anything she’d ever felt in her entire life.

"It's not fair," she mumbled hopelessly, burying her face against Feyre's shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's not fair...He wouldn’t have even cared…he wouldn’t have even…looked in my direction…if the bond hadn’t snapped…he wouldn’t even have looked at me…”

Don't cry, the shadows whispered, coming to wrap around her hands. Don't cry. Master was an utter fool. Blinded by a pretty face. But he does care about you. 

She let out a sob, feeling more of the shadows slide up her arms to wrap around her.

She didn’t know that. Azriel cared…but it didn’t change how he felt about Elain. It didn’t change that he didn’t care for her, for Eira. He only…he only wanted her because of the bond.

He only felt responsible for her because they were mates. All the...feelings...he had towards her...were all just because of the bond.

The shadows only continued to coil around her as she wept silently into Feyre’s shoulder, her heart aching.

She had known from the beginning that Azriel didn’t care for her beyond the bond.

But...until she had heard what Esmeray had said, and learned that he hadn’t told her the truth, she’d still had some tiny part of hope. Some small, stupid part of her that had clung to the hope that maybe, maybe, he would start to feel for her the same way that she felt for him.

"I loved him from the moment I saw him. I looked at him and it was...it was like coming home," she choked out.

“Of course you did,” Feyre said softly, gently stroking her hair as the tears continued to fall. “Of course you did…”

Nesta said nothing, the only sound that escaped her was a low, furious huff.

"I am really going to kill him," she hissed.

“Save some for me,” Feyre grumbled as she held Eira fiercely, her free hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

His Mother had words for Master, the shadows said quietly, coiling themselves into her hair. He's brooding. 

“Good,” Nesta said firmly. “I hope he’s miserable.”

“Nes,” Feyre said quietly, giving her sister a gentle nudge.

“What?!” Nesta said, scowling. “Seriously, he deserves it.”

Eira couldn’t help the tiny part of her that felt bad for him…that felt guilty thinking about him being miserable.

She knew Azriel didn’t love her, and didn’t feel the same way, but…a part of her cared about him. She didn’t want him to be miserable.

 "Why is he brooding?" she asked quietly.

The shadows hummed again, making a soft whispering sound before they spoke again.

His Mother told him he was an idiot. 

"She did?" Feyre perked up in surprise, while Nesta’s mouth curled into a satisfied smirk.

Yes, the shadows confirmed, coiling themselves into Eira’s hair like a strange, sentient snake.

It made something warm stir in Eira’s chest, imagining Esmeray calling Azriel an idiot to his face. Master realised that he hasn't been doing right to you...Not with the courting and not with...anything else. 

The words made more tears burn in Eira’s eyes, while Feyre shifted to give her a gentle hug.

“He’s realising, huh?” she grumbled. “That he’s been screwing up?”

Yes. The shadows coiled a little tighter around her, almost as if they were trying to comfort her. It made her heart ache in a different way, feeling warm and painful at the same time.

Will you talk to him? the shadows asked softly. Let him apologise? 

She was upset, she was hurt. She didn’t want to talk to him. She wanted to avoid him and forget this whole mess even happened.

But the shadows...they wanted her to talk to him. They…wanted her to let him apologize.

Another wave of guilt and shame washed over her.

Azriel had done…nothing wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he merely didn’t…care towards her.

He wanted the bond, he wanted the comfort, he wanted a mate, he just…he just didn’t want her .

The thought made a fresh wave of tears fill her eyes, which she promptly buried against Feyre’s shoulder.

Feyre hugged her tightly, while Nesta gently rubbed her back as the shadows continued to coil themselves around her. “It’s alright,” Feyre whispered soothingly, as more shadows drifted down to comfort her. “It’s going to be alright.”

The shadows continued to hum and shift, wrapping themselves around her like a protective, comforting blanket. It was somewhat soothing, the sensation of their coolness, the feel of them wrapping around her, almost like they were trying to tell her it would be alright.

Master has a lot to say to you, the shadows spoke up again. Please, just listen to him, Eira. 

So she just nodded.

Thank you. 

The shadows hummed again, coiling a little tighter around her, and it was almost as if she could feel a sort of pleasure coming from them that she had agreed to talk to Azriel, to listen to whatever he had to say.

"But they'll stay," she choked out, pulling Nesta's hand tight around herself.

“Of course,” Feyre said instantly, wrapping her arms around her as well. “We’ll both stay. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Damn right,” Nesta said, tightening her grip as well. “I may need to restrain myself from knocking any sense into him.”

In any other situation, Eira may have laughed at that, but instead, all she did was give a shaky nod, letting herself be pulled in tight by her sisters.

The gesture was comfort, the feel of them around her reassuring and warm, even as her heart ached in her chest.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly, and Azriel walked into the room.

Every bit of his usually impassive, stoic demeanour was gone, replaced by a look of anxiety and worry. Eira could see the tension in his shoulders, and the way his hands were clenched into fists.

He stopped a few meters away from them, his gaze locking on Eira instantly.

She could feel his eyes raking over her, like a physical caress, taking in the sight of her clearly tear-stained face. The way her hands were being clutched by Feyre and Nesta.

He looked desperate like he wanted to walk over and touch her, but one glimpse at the way Feyre and Nesta had her wrapped in their arms had him hesitating.

"How...how are you feeling?" he asked her, and she could see his throat bob as he swallowed.

“How do you think she is, you idiot?” Nesta snapped, her voice low and cutting.

Azriel didn't pay any attention to her, his gaze firmly locked on Eira, staring at her as if he was waiting for her to say something.

And Eira…she had no idea what to say. She had absolutely no idea.

She sat there silently, letting words and thoughts and questions swirl in her mind, but saying nothing. And it only seemed to make the tension in Azriel’s shoulders grow even more, the worry in his gaze deepened.

“Eira…” he breathed out, his voice soft and raw, and she could see his hands twitch like he wanted to reach for her. “Can…can we talk?”

Both Feyre and Nesta tensed, their grip on her tightening.

"You can talk. She will listen," Nesta said, her voice icy. "And then she can decide if she wants to take pity on you, or if she never wants to see you again. Did you seriously tell my sister that Elain was prettier than her in the same breath as you asked to court her?!?"

Azriel closed his eyes, looking pained at that, and she could see his shoulders slump. But he didn’t deny it, didn’t try to defend himself, and Eira just…felt her heart ache even more.

"I was an idiot," he said quietly, his voice low and thick. "I…I was a fool."

He sounded so miserable when he said that, and something in Eira just…wanted to tell him to stop, to tell him that this was hurting her more than he seemed to comprehend…but she just sat there, saying nothing, letting the tears still fall silently down her cheeks.

Azriel took a few steps closer, his gaze still firmly fixed on her. He looked miserable, like a wounded animal, like he was in pain.

And a small part of her…a small, stupid part of her wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, to hug him and tell him she wasn’t angry.

But it wasn’t going to be alright, and she was angry. So she said nothing.

The silence seemed to drag on, the tension rising thicker in the room. The two sisters held her tighter still, their hands clenched around her, their own gazes fixed on Azriel, shooting glares at him.

It made him look even more miserable, and she could see him taking another cautious step forward.

“Eira…” he tried again, his voice so soft and pleading. “Please, please say something…”

The silence seemed to drag on, the tension rising thicker in the room. The two sisters held her tighter still, their hands clenched around her, their own gazes fixed on Azriel, shooting glares at him.

It made him look even more miserable, and she could see him taking another cautious step forwards.

“Eira…” he tried again, his voice so soft and pleading. “Please, please say something…”

"What do you want me to say, Azriel?" she asked, her voice weak. She wanted to scream and shout but she didn't have it in herself.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to talk about how your mother had absolutely no clue that we are mates ? How she told me that you were fond of me but fonder of Elain? How it was just too bad that Elain was mated to another male?!"

She could see his body go tense at that, his eyes widening.

It hurt her, to see the realization and pain slowly spreading over his face. He knew what she had gone through, what she had to hear, the truth that his mother had revealed.

But he didn’t understand. He had absolutely no idea just how much all that had hurt her.

"I thought I was alright with it. I thought I could live with it. I could live with the fact that you didn't actually want me. That you wanted the life that vision promised you...that you were in love with my twin sister and not with me."

The words stung both Azriel and her.

She could see him shifting, and hear a low, pained sound leaving his lips. She could see something in his expression…a pain and hurt so deep she couldn’t even find the words to describe it.

"You…you think I don't want you...?" he breathed out, his voice so low she almost didn't hear it.

"You don't want me," Eira choked out. "You wanted Elain. And before that, you wanted Morrigan. And then Elain's vision promised you me and you go along with it, because of the mating bond."

Azriel flinched at that like each word was a physical blow. He looked sick, the misery on his face growing with each statement.

And a part of her was satisfied, seeing him look like that, seeing him look in pain. It was what he deserved after everything that he had done.

But the other part of her…the other part of her ached and bled at every expression of pain on his face.

The silence again continued to drag on, the air still and tense with the heavy atmosphere between the two of them.

He hadn’t denied it, she knew he hadn’t denied it. He hadn’t said that she was wrong, that she was wrong in thinking the only reason he pursued her was because of the bond.

The thought made her eyes sting, tears brimming and overflowing. Her heart ached, hurt, felt like it was bleeding.

"I am sorry," he whispered. "I am so sorry, Eira."

The words stung, just as much as they gave her hope.

Her heart was aching in her chest, tears still falling slowly down her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled, and she took in a few shaky breaths.

She had been hurt by him. He had never even considered her before the bond had snapped. And he hadn’t denied it when she had called him out on it.

And still, she wanted him to fix this. Wanted him to find some way to fix this.

"I am not...I am not going and try to defend myself," he whispered. "I am not going and lie to you. And yes, Eira. I did see that vision and I felt that Mating Bond and I did want to pursue you. Because I want that future. I want that future with you."

She wanted that future with him as well, she longed for it, but she wanted him to come to her because he wanted her. Because he desired her, the vision be damned.

But instead, she came second fiddle to an image in a vision. Instead, she came last to Elain and Mor.

"And I went about it wrong," Azriel continued. "I should have...I should have actually made the effort to get to know you, Eira. I should have talked to you. I should have asked what you wanted. I should have asked for your favourite colour. And I should have..."

He trailed off, the words leaving him in a choked gasp. Eira could see the misery on his face, the suffering.

He looked completely miserable, his hands clenching into fists, his shoulders hunched and tensed, but he kept on going, his voice thick and low in his throat.

"I should have cared. I should have seen you. I should have noticed you."

"And I can't change it. I can't change what I did know. I fucked up, Eira. I fucked up so badly, that you have every reason and every right not to want to see me for centuries."

The words stung, and Eira just…she ached.

She ached, she hurt, and everything inside her had tears welling. She ached because…she wanted to forgive him. She wanted to give him a second chance.

But the thought of being second rate again, of being the last choice…it hurt.

But…she couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, either. Couldn’t look away from the sight of how miserable he was, how distressed and in pain.

It hurt, it hurt so badly…but a part of her just wanted to hug him, to reassure him…Azriel took another few steps towards her, his eyes fixed on hers. He looked so wretched, his eyes pained, his whole body shaking as if it was taking him a monumental effort to remain standing there. To force himself to remain standing so close to her, to keep looking at her.

He was still a good few meters away from her, but the expression on his face, the look in his eyes…

It was like he was in agony.

She could see his hands clenching into fists, and could hear him taking a shaky breath.

"You…you don’t have to forgive me, or even want to talk to me again," he said, and she could hear how hard it was for him to form those words.

It hurt…it hurt seeing him look so miserable, looking like he was in pain. And it hurt because she wanted him. She still wanted him.

And the fact that it hurt was what got to her, what finally made her move. She shoved off Feyre and Nesta, who were still holding her, both of them looking startled.

They protested, clearly wanting to hold her back, but Eira pushed her way through, walking towards him.

Azriel hadn’t moved, his body going tense, his eyes going wide as she approached him.

And she hated that part of herself. She hated how much she still wanted him, despite everything that had happened. How much she ached for him, in ways that should be impossible.

It was a sharp, dull ache, a desperate and constant pain, a desire to reach out to him, to pull him closer, and at the same time, shove him as far away as possible.

She wanted to shove him away, push him further away. She wanted to tell him to suffer, to hurt the way she was hurting.

But at the same time…she wanted to pull him closer. To feel his skin against hers, under her fingertips. To feel his arms around her, holding her tight, his lips against her skin.

It was maddening. He was maddening.

“I am sorry,” he said, the truth flowing like clear spring water from his words. “I am so sorry. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

His words…she wanted to believe them. Wanted to believe that he was being sincere, that he truly was sorry, that he wanted to make it up to her.

And a small, naive, foolish, hopeful part of her, the part that was desperate and hopeful and greedy, did believe him. Wanted to latch onto the words, to hold them tight and not let go.

“I want to get to know you. I want to learn your favourite colour and your favourite place in Velaris. I want..”

He paused, taking a shaky breath. His eyes were still fixed on hers, pleading and desperate and aching, his entire body practically aching with the need to come closer.

“I want to learn everything there is to know about you. I want to learn about your smile and your laugh and your tears. I want to be with you, Eira.”

The words…they were everything that she wanted to hear. Everything that she had wished he would tell her, and more. They felt like a caress, like a gentle breeze, a soft comfort. And they hurt.

They hurt because she wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and hold him close. Wanted to forgive him and let herself be close to him in the way she longed for.

“I want to be with you,” he repeated, his words a choked gasp. “I want to court you. I want to mate you. I want to…I want…”

He trailed off, choking on the words, taking another deep breath. His body was shaking, his shoulders tense, his expression aching with the effort of it all.

He looked in pain, so utterly hurt, like every word out of his mouth was agony. But he was still talking, still trying to get out the words, trying to make her understand.

“I want to spend every waking moment of my day with you,” he continued, his tone so raw and open and aching. “I want to wake up with you and go to sleep with you. I want to hear your voice and see your face every damn day.”

“I’ll do better, I’ll be better,“ he whispered.

He sounded so desperate, his voice thick and raw and pleading. It was like he was being ripped apart from the inside like he was in physical pain.

And Eira…she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t help but believe his words, couldn’t help but let her stubborn, foolish heart hope.

“Please,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Please, please give me a second chance. I’ll…”

Another breath, another choked gasp. His shoulders hunched, his fists clenching tighter.

“I’ll do anything, just please give me a second chance. Give me the chance to right this. Give me the chance to prove to you…prove to you how much I want you. Just…give me another chance.”

His voice was so raw, so open, the look in his eyes pure pleading. He looked like he was ready to beg, ready to do anything for her. Anything to give him another chance.

And her heart, her foolish, stupid, hopeless heart…the part that wanted to hold onto him, to forgive him, to give him that chance ached.

She still hurt, still ached, the words from his mother still so fresh in her mind. The thought of being second, of being his last choice…it was a sharp blow against her.

But at the same time, she couldn’t stop the part of her that wanted to hold onto him. That longed for just a chance, just a moment where he was hers, where she was first and last and everything in his heart.

Azriel looked ready to continue, but he stopped when he saw the look on her face, her conflicting emotions warring inside her chest.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders dropping. He was probably expecting her to say no, to turn him down. He probably expected her to…

To do the sensible, rational thing. But sensibility and rationality were the last things she was feeling right now.

Her heart was aching, her body trembling, her emotions a swirl of conflicting feelings. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her just how idiotic she was for considering this.

And at the same time, her heart was yearning, longing for him. Wanting to grab onto him and never let go.

Azriel’s entire body was shaking, his eyes still closed, looking like he was bracing himself for her answer, for the words he expected her to say.

The words she should say, the words that would send him away, that would make her turn and walk away.

And yet…she found herself taking a step closer towards him. And then another.

She wasn’t even sure why she was doing it, why her body was moving before she even knew it, her mind screaming at her to stop and turn around and walk away.

But she kept moving towards him, each step sending a strange, giddy rush shooting through her, her heart aching and fluttering at the same time.

And she stopped in front of him, less than a foot of space separating them, her eyes fixed on his.

Azriel still hadn’t opened his eyes, his face tense and taut as if waiting for the blow to come.

But the blow never came.

Because Eira reached out, her fingers trembling as she reached up to touch his cheek.

Azriel's entire body jerked as if he had been struck, a gasp leaving his mouth. His eyes flew open, shock and surprise clear on his face.

But he didn’t move, didn't pull away or even flinch as her fingers made contact with his skin.

He just stood there, frozen as he stared at her.

Her hand trembled, her throat tight as she felt the warmth of his skin. His face was tense, his breath catching with every moment her fingers remained against his skin, like he was fighting the urge to turn his head and press his lips to her skin.

“Eira,” he breathed out, the word a whispered plea, a prayer. And then he seemed to realize he had moved, was on the edge of reaching out to her in turn.

But he caught himself, his hands hanging at his sides. He was holding himself back, holding himself from reaching for her…

And somehow, that made her even more determined, her decision stronger.

She wanted him to reach for her, wanted his hands on her skin, wanted him to hold her close and never let go.

She slid her hand along his cheek, her palm caressing his jaw. And she stepped even closer, closing the very last bit of distance between them.

They were so close, her body almost pressed flush against him. He was so warm, his body burning, and so large, like a rock, unflinching and steady against her.

She could feel him trembling, just barely holding himself back from wrapping his arms around her. His eyes were fixed on hers, longing and pleading and aching.

Her breath caught when she realized how closely she was pressed against him, how only a fraction of distance separated their bodies. She could practically feel his racing heart under her skin, hear every quick and desperate breath leaving his mouth.

He was breathing fast, ragged and sharp, every little inhale shuddering from his lips like a gasp. He looked like he was about to snap, his entire body visibly trembling like a taut thread on the edge of snapping.

“Don’t do it again,” she said softly. “I won’t…I won’t be able to go through it a second time.”

Her words seemed to hit him like a physical blow, his breath hitching in his chest. She could see the pain that flared on his face at her words.

“I-I won’t. I swear,” he responded, and his voice was so gentle, like he was talking to a wounded bird. “I swear on my life, I’ll never let you go through that again.”

He was holding himself back, every muscle and sinew in his body tense with the effort of it. It was like he was fighting the urge to pull her flush against him, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

“I swear, Eira,” he repeated, his voice a low and achingly sincere promise. “I swear I’ll be better. I’ll be everything you need, anything you want.”

“The only thing I want is for you to be yourself. I want you. All of you.”

A choked gasp left his mouth, his eyes going wide. He looked almost stunned like he couldn’t quite process what she had said.

“I…you want me?” he asked, his voice rough and raw, filled with disbelief.

She nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “Yes. I want you,” she confirmed, her voice firm and unwavering.

The words had a strange effect on him. It was like they had knocked the air from his lungs, leaving him looking completely awed and shocked.

He took another shuddering breath, his body trembling as he stared down at her. “You…you really still want me?” he asked his voice barely a whisper.

And just like that, the dam broke inside him. He reached out, pulling her flush against his body, his arms wrapping tight around her.

His head dropped to her shoulder, his body shuddering as he pressed his face against the crook of her neck. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, his voice ragged and raw and desperate. “I’ll be better. I’ll be the male you deserve. I promise.”

His body was shaking against hers, holding her tight like he was afraid she would disappear. He was breathing fast, hard and frantic, his chest rising and falling against her body frantically.

She could feel him shaking like a leaf, every muscle in his body taut and tense as he held her tight but oh so gently. And under that, she could feel his racing heart, beating so fast and intense that it was dizzying.

“I’ll be everything you need,” Azriel repeated, his lips moving against her skin, his words spoken in a low, ragged whisper. “I’ll be your male, your mate. I’ll never leave you, never hurt you or let you down again. I swear it, Eira, I swear it on my life.”

His fingers were digging into her skin, clinging to her so tightly that she could feel the slight, sharp pressure of his hands against her like he was trying to hold her to him, keep her as close as possible.

He was holding her so tightly that it should have hurt, but it only felt good. It felt like a comfort, a reassurance like he would never let her go.

[evergone]

Rumours

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Description: Theo and the reader aren't particularly close friends until a storm terrifies the reader, and Theo has to take her to her room. Scandal ensues.

Night began to ride in on the back of a storm and through the large windows looking out into the lake you could see schools of fish swimming further down to hide amongst the weeds and mud below the dungeon. Wrapped in a large cream coloured goat’s wool blanket, and layered in both a brown cotton jumper and your green-lined robe, you found warmth by the crackling fireplace as you sped through your Potions homework, well aware that you would never get it completely finished by Monday when it was due. Vanilla and chamomile candles lit themselves around the long common room and their scent wafted through the space, mixing with the smell of the burning wood and adding to the all-encompassing sense of home.

Lightning struck the lake, the first of what would be many times that night, and you waited anxiously for the oncoming thunder. It broke out from a whimper to a roar, so loud it shook the common room, and the two green glass bottles sat atop the elaborate stone mantelpiece of the fireplace swayed into each other with a quiet ‘clink!’ as if making a toast. Stress seized your mind, and while you contemplated moving away from the windows, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up. Just about frozen from phonophobia, as well as from your complete mortification at the thought that someone unkind could discover this fear, you scribbled over your homework parchment absentmindedly.

As another bolt of lightning met with the lake, the entrance to the common room swung open and the ever-familiar voice of your dearest friend, Pansy Parkinson, and some of your other housemates disturbed the mostly silent space. Gaze transfixed on your homework, you didn’t notice them make their way across the deep green and shining silver mosaic floors until Theodore Nott overly fondly pushed you further to the edge of the lounge you were on and stole half of the blanket from you as he sat down. Thunder raged again in the gloomy, storm-charged atmosphere, twice as loud as the groups’ conversation and your body tightened to a tense.

As Theo made himself more comfortable, he threw you an awkward smile as a swift apology for invading your personal bubble.

The two of you were hardly friends, just friends-of-friends, and it was for no reason other than the convenience of the group that you were ever in each other’s company. Occasionally, there would be a free period that you’d both spend in the library and whoever had gotten there first would wave the other over and you’d sit together, but you’d only ever do your homework quietly across from each other. No chatting, no socialising, not even a ‘how are you liking the weather?’ You were fine with this, though, as both Theo and yourself were private people. Or, at least, you pretended to be fine with the unspoken arrangement.

“You okay?” he asked, interrupting your train of thought when his hand met the section of blanket covering your knee, and the earthly wonders he had for eyes met yours.

He must have felt you when you tensed.

Simplicity was an attribute of Theo’s that you truly admired and adored. He never said a word more than he needed to. You shook your head meekly like a shy child on her first day in kindergarten. Mascara seemed the only barrier stopping you from turning your lashes into a lawn covered in morning dew — you wouldn’t be seen having it run down your face, how would you possibly hide that from the judgemental eyes of the Slytherin population? Seeming to disregard your nonverbal response as a lie, Theo waved his wand and the snake-patterned blackout curtains fell over the windows, putting a distance between the common room and the outside world.

“Is it the noise?” he guessed in a hushed tone, careful not to draw the attention of any of the others.

“Mhm,” you hummed as your cheeks reddened (Merlin be damned for letting him of all people figure you out), “Could you get Pansy to walk me to my room?”

Over on the other lounge, Pansy sat preoccupied in Draco’s lap, twiddling her short black hair between her pointer and her thumb, and laughing in an obnoxious manner at a story Blaise had started to tell almost twenty minutes earlier in the courtyard. It was some long reach piece of gossip about one of those Weasley kids — Fred? George? One of the other ones whose names Theo couldn’t remember for the life of him? He hadn’t really been paying much attention. Rested in the back pocket of Pansy’s jeans was Draco’s hand, holding her firmly on top of him. Safe to say, Theo wouldn’t be pulling those two apart inconspicuously.

“I’ll take you,” he told you.

Softly, he abandoned the blanket that once sheltered you from the nibbling chill of the late-Spring air and stood up. Both Blaise and Draco noticed this and each raised a pitch black or platinum blonde brow respectively as a questioning gesture of Theo’s motives as he held his hand out to help you up. With Theo as your guide and support, you made your way up to your room, stopping halfway up the stairs when another bang of thunder made you jump and he had to grab your forearms to make sure you didn’t fall over. You apologised awkwardly, and avoided his gaze as best you could while cherishing every moment in which his hands were on you.

At your door, you made sure to thank him profusely and honoured him with an I-owe-you which he refused to acknowledge. After ensuring you would be okay, he returned to the common room and sat in the seat he had left. Blaise had made himself comfortable where you’d once been, and the entire group stopped their conversation in favour of silence.

“The fuck was that?” Draco asked loudly.

Thunder continued to rumble overhead in the grey of the storm, adding to the grandeur of the Slytherin common room that Draco’s obscenity disregarded. Unbothered and unwilling to explain your personal troubles to the king of being the opposite of understanding, Theo just shrugged in response, and focused in on the black-furred cat that had made its way into their area as he listened to the storm as if it were music.

“Oh, shit…” Pansy said, the realisation that you had been scared by the storm finally hitting her, “I gotta go.”

Leaving Draco with an affectionate peck on the cheek, Pansy retreated upstairs, likely to go take care of you, Theo presumed. In her wake, Draco and Blaise erupted into questions. A muddle of ‘are you guys dating?’s and ‘actually what the fuck’s and ‘I didn’t even know you liked her’s were thrown at Theo who had no ulterior motives behind taking you upstairs, he had just done so out of the simple kindness of his heart. Slytherins being Slytherins, however, couldn’t fathom that he would do anything purely out of kindness. Kindness didn’t come naturally in a house dedicated to ambition and self-preservation.

“You like her, Theo, admit it.”

“Shove off, Draco,” Theo spat, pulling the blanket back over himself, “You don’t know anything.”

“Defensive!” Blaise laughed and poked his friend’s shoulder, “You are the closest to her out of all of us guys.”

Truthfully, you and Theo did spend an awful lot of time together. But that was only out of consequence, the fact that you both thoroughly enjoyed reading meant you were both always in the library looking through the hundreds or possibly thousands of leather-bound books, and you seemed to frequently happen upon each other. Outside of the library, your time was limited only to group activities because you sat next to Pansy or Daphne Greengrass in almost every class you shared with Theo and never spoke to him. He didn’t think anything of your time together. Surely, there wasn’t much to think. Right? The pair of you — no, there wasn’t any “pair” to begin with, say, the individuals of you, yes, that’s right, the individuals. The individuals of you were just happy acquaintances, nothing more.

The fire was hardly big enough to keep Theo warm against the backdrop of a fiercely windy night that had turned even the secluded dungeons cold. Even under all its fur, the cat who had made itself comfortable right up next to the flames looked still to be shivering in the crisp air. It jumped up off the floor, where the stone mosaics weren’t warming up at all, and squished itself between Blaise and Theo.

“You know, she barely even talks to us,” Draco started, “We’re her friends, of course, but when Pansy or Daphne or you aren’t there she goes all quiet.”

“And she clearly trusts you, whatever that whole thing was—” Blaise made circular motions with his arms to refer to Theo taking her to her room— “She didn’t trust any of us with it.”

Theo huffed, “She wanted Pansy, but she was busy with his hand on her ass, I had an…” He searched for the right word, “Obligation to help.”

“Because Theodore Nott is renowned for helping people,” Draco scoffed, his tongue dripping with sarcasm.

By the time you were crouched over a table in the library the next morning, making a desperate last-ditch effort to complete that Potions homework before third period, the storm had subsided. Unfortunately for you, your most outspoken friend, Daphne, had brought with her a storm of her own.

“I heard a rumour,” Daphne began as she pinned her blonde side fringe back behind her ear.

“Oh, here we go!” Pansy sighed.

Numerous scrolls of parchment were littered over the desk in the library that the three of you had made your own and Pansy was sorting frantically through them looking for all the ones with her handwriting on them — she couldn’t even remember the amount she had written on. Stacks of books on the fundamentals of potions, charms and transfiguration threaded themselves between the scrolls and threatened to fall as her inattentive sorting had her reaching over and around them sloppily. With a creak, you leaned back in your chair taking a blind gander under the desk to find another three scrolls forgotten on the elephant print, medieval-style rug that covered the wooden floors and handed them to her.

“According to hearsay, you and Theo are having some kind of fling,” Daphne continued, “Care to comment, Y/n, my dear friend?” She held a fist out towards to mimic a reporter holding a microphone.

“Who told you that?” You asked, furrowed brows adorning your face like a weighted crown as you slapped her hand away.

She shrugged then took her own scrolls which were contained in a pile on a separate but close-by desk, and put them into the spacey grey-black satchel slung over her shoulder. Clock striking the hour, your two companions bid you adieu as they headed for Ghoul Studies. Unsure whether she had found all her scrolls, Pansy took one last glance at the desk before giving up altogether, stating that if she didn’t have it then it surely wasn’t important.

Left alone to drown in your inability to finish this Merlin-darned homework, your mind wandered to the somewhat unsavoury rumour concerning yourself and Theo that was supposedly making the rounds. Details of the night prior came back in sections, split up by bursts of terror ignited by the loud storm. Most of your memories were from the latter half of the night, curled up in Pansy’s arms singing to the wizarding hits of the last five or so decades. However, the earlier moments lingered on your side and your hand — the everlasting effects of Theo’s touch. By Salazar, what you wouldn’t give to feel him again.

As if your thoughts were summons, the very boy with whom you were engaged in the beginnings of a tumultuous scandal entered your space in the library. Drawing back the chair Pansy had once claimed beside you, Theo sat down, and set some parchment and ink on the desk alongside your books and half-finished assignments. He ran a hand through his tawny brown curls, breaking his near-perfect side part as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath.

“You look exhausted,” you smiled, taking notice of his sweat slicked forehead.

You’d never started a conversation with him before.

“I spent the morning playing quidditch with Draco,” he said with a hint of anger.

You laughed gently and missed as the sound lit a spark in Theo’s eyes, convincing him to move his seat closer to yours. Surrounding the two of you was an air as warm as a campfire at school camp, or the fireplace under stockings on Christmas Day, or the oven after baking a fresh loaf of bread. Burdened by your workload, you dug straight back into your tasks, but Theo had other ideas. Parchment was less hardy than paper, and so your homework scroll was starting to fray, piquing his interest as he took a lose thread between his fingers and toyed with it. Eyes slimmed, brow raised, you sent him a look of confusion.

“Let’s not do our work today,” he announced.

“And do what instead?” You questioned, already having disregarded your quill in the inkpot, turned wild by the promise of adventure.

Easily, Theo stood up and raised his arms to stretch out his tall spine letting a set of cracks run down it from his shoulders to his hips. The black band of his underwear exposed itself as his white button-up school shirt lifted above his belly button, and you caught yourself mid-stare at his happy trail. He made a place for himself behind your chair, his upper body leant over your head like a tree you were using for shade as he inspected the shelves full of ancient books before you. If you had died right there, you would certainly have died happy.

He was looking for something to impress you (though he couldn’t exactly justify why he’d become suddenly inclined to do such a thing), something that would gain your attention, something he could recommend so you could go back to him to talk about it. For him to find that, you would have to leave the education section in favour of the leisure section. He held his hand out to assist you in standing for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and you took it again; his high body temperature, and calm but bored aura encompassed you at the touch of your palms. When he let go, he waved the very same hand over your belongings to cast a spell that would pack everything into your brown leather shoulder bag that was leaning idly on the leg of your chair.

“Give me a sec,” he whispered, cautious of Madam Pince’s omni-audient ear.

There wasn’t a single book he could think of that he didn’t know you had already read. Always the avid reader, you were, from the moment you learnt the alphabet it seemed you couldn’t live without a book in one hand and a pencil for annotating in the other. When he finally came across something he thought you’d like, a compilation of poetry by some witch named Winters, he hurried back to lead you elsewhere.

You followed him like a stray puppy would follow the scent of food, and he took you outside to sit below two wych elms whose branches were tangled like lovers. Blooming expanses of creeping thyme coloured the soles of your shoes a pale pink-purple as you crushed them under your feet; you would be ever grateful for the house elves when they cleaned it off for you. Pollen tickled your nose and pricked your eyes, the sun’s rays created a sheen of light across the Black Lake, and the skies had cleared completely, leaving a blue vastness to watch over the castle.

Theo laid down and passed you the poetry book, “For you.”

Taking it from him and flipping through the pages, you nodded your thanks and rested your head on the ground next to him. Human silence overcame the little space you two had made for yourselves and the sounds of nature, birds chirping, bees buzzing, leaves rustling, were the only things left to be heard anywhere near. In the distance, there was a faint echo of classes being taught, but so far away that it you wouldn’t be able to hear it unless you strained yourself immensely.

“Did you finish that potions homework?” Theo asked.

Another laugh escaped your mouth, “When have I ever finished potions homework on time?” You said with a newfound confidence, “Snape takes five house points from me in every class.”

An amused close-lipped smile spread across his face, “And here I’ve taken you away from your studying.”

“I wouldn’t have done it anyway,” you sighed, content with your predicament.

Frost-speckled grass kissed your cheek as you turned to look at him, the remnants of Winter still lasted so far into Spring. Theo turned as well, taking in every scar, freckle and acne bump that was blessed by belonging to you.

“Let’s read this together,” you said, and opened to the first page of the book he had found for you.

“No!” He rushed out, stealing it back, and placing it on the other side of him.

Confusion danced a ballet over your soft features while a blush spun savagely over his strong, sharp traits. One of your arms, your right that was furthest away from him, reached across his body in blind hope to find the gift he had so abruptly rescinded. The mole above his mouth slinked forward as he bit his bottom lip, and slid the book under the curve of his back so you’d never be able to grab it. Nevertheless, you flipped onto your stomach and shot your hand underneath him, crumbling as you got stuck under his weight.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, “Why can’t I read it?”

“I want to get it right,” explained Theo, “I picked this out on a whim, give me some time to choose something better suited for you, yeah?” You frowned so he quickly added, “Please?”

Under long lashes that appeared almost naked without the layers of mascara you usually covered them with, your enthralling e/c irises stared at him, teleporting him into the mazes of your mind where he intended to get lost. Retracting your frown and wriggling your arm out from underneath him, you lazed the side of your forehead against his shoulder which, to both yours and Theo’s surprise, struck up an affectionate sensation in your chests. From your position you could feel the way his heart pushed and pulled the blood through his veins and arteries, the tender ‘dun-dun’ of his heartbeat causing his whole body to pulse to an organised rhythm.

Five years you had known Theo and while one wouldn’t be wrong to call you associates, I must reiterate that you were never really friends. Seeing him in the library during your corresponding free periods was nice, you supposed, but you suddenly realised that you hated how far you drifted outside of the library’s book-covered walls. The previous night had been the first time in what was likely forever that you had spoken exclusively to one another without the guidance of a third party. Really, you just wanted to get to know him better, see the sides of him that didn’t show during a dead-silent hour alone in the library.

“Well, since you asked so politely,” you said with a sincere smile.

Theo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he was given the chance by Daphne’s high-pitched, intrusive voice screaming at you from across the field of creeping thyme, “You whores are never beating these allegations!”

Her volume gave you half a heart attack and you jolted upright, deserting Theo’s shoulder, and glancing over your own to see Daphne approaching the two of you with Blaise, Pansy, Draco, Tweedledum and Tweedle-dee on her heel. Clearly, the bell had rung for break, but between your great library escape and book shenanigan, neither of you had cared to check the time. How the others had found you was beyond your capacity to think as you waited for your heart to settle and your forehead to cease sweating following Daphne’s ear-piercing entrance.

“What allegations?” He asked her, thick eyebrows glaring, not at her, but at the content of her conversation.

“Y/n didn’t tell you?” She said, “You’ve been swept up in a scandal. Everyone thinks you guys are getting it on.”

Vulgar motions were made with her hands, sending Crabbe and Goyle into a bout of immature laughter. Flushed red with embarrassment, you avoided the look Theo was more-than-likely throwing your way by connecting your own line of vision with Pansy’s. She bit her tongue, widened her eyes, and nodded harshly in Theo’s direction, urging you to look at him. But you were so terribly embarrassed that you took to your feet, and ran away from your friends, ignoring them as they called out for you to come back.

You found the first broom closet that would open at the utterance of ‘Alohomora,’ and found solace in the cramped, yet perfectly concealed hiding spot. As your hands came up to cover your eyes, the humiliation of, not only the rumour, or the fact that you were caught in such a compromising position with Theo, but of the fact that you had fooled yourself into starting to think that you and Theo were building something, overcame you. Once you decided the coast would be clear, and your friends would have all returned to their classes, you opened the broom closet door, your eyes stinging with the remains of tears.

Standing before you with a look of knowing and understanding that was so much beyond friendliness, was Theo. His hands were in his pockets, and he had slung both your bag and his own over his wide shoulders.

“How did you find me?” You said quietly, and wiped your eyes, hoping you could hide their inevitable redness.

“The others were headed to Potions, but I heard you sobbing, and thought I should wait until you were ready to come out,” he responded just as softly.

“Why would you do that? You know Snape doesn’t take late homework submissions! You’re coming third-in-class!” You exclaimed.

Worry flashed behind your eyes, and he quickly leant down, and reached out to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, “Hey, hey, it’s alright! I took you away from your study first, Y/n, it’s only fair that we both fail.”

That classic frown of yours graced your beautiful features, and Theo had to withhold the urge to sigh with infatuation. It was a blessing to behold you, even when your cheeks and eyes were so puffy and irritated, and your nose was beginning to run a little. However gross it was was eclipsed by how perfect you were.

“Why are you so upset, huh?” He asked you in a gentle tone.

A small sniffle preceded your reply, “There’s this tasteless rumour about us, and I was just starting to realise how much I like being around you, and now it’s all ruined!”

Theo laughed his mellifluous, musical laugh which frustrated you into an even deeper frown, then he said, “A stupid rumour couldn’t ruin us.”

Glancing up at him, you allowed your frown to soften. He had said ‘us.’ What in the world did that mean? What, or who, was ‘us?’ Did he mean the two of you? Your thoughts ran as rampant and crazy as they had earlier when he first proposed the idea of skipping out on your study period. Quickly, you began to hypothesise all sorts of meanings and justifications for his choice of words.

“And, for the record, I love being around you, too,” he said.

Without warning, your body became charged with that uncharacteristic confidence that had only started to appear the night before, and you leant in to place your forehead on Theo’s. He looked downright idiotic from that angle, but you saw firsthand how his line of vision flickered down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. And you thought, if people must think you’re messing around with someone, you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

“Would you like to — Do you want to…?” You had read hundreds of books on romance, but still you couldn’t think of the words.

“Can I…?” Neither, it seems, could he.

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him in. His lips were were raging fires, yours were wax, melting at the touch of heat. Notes of nutmeg and cypress hit your nose — his cologne. His hands gripped your waist, just lower than could be written off as friendly, and he kissed you so passionately that any onlooker would think the rumours so obviously confirmed.

Eventually, he pulled away, and you just stared at each other in total wonder. There was no way you could possibly discredit those rumours now.

[p0orbaby]

She’ll Know Me Crazy, Soothe Me Daily

summary: you go into labour (leah’s version)

warnings: mentions of pregnancy and labour, who’d have guessed

a/n: i got a request for this and dropped everything at work to write it so if i get fired it’s your fault !

word count: 1.8k

-

It’s three a.m., and you’re lying in bed in that half-dream, half-wake state, thinking about nothing and everything at once—plans, names, logistics, the strange feeling in your back, how Leah’s snoring sounds almost like a broken radiator. You’d drifted off earlier with the usual suspects on your mind—last-minute nursery tweaks, what it’d be like to actually meet this new person, how you’re supposed to keep them alive once they’re here.

Then suddenly you’re very awake. And aware. The kind of aware that has you blinking up at the ceiling, trying to gauge if you’re imagining this, if maybe it’s all just part of the anxious last-few-weeks-of-pregnancy weirdness. But no, no. It’s real. The sensation you’d ignored all night is now gripping you in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Your waters have broken.

You’re in labour.

In the midst of grappling with this sudden, primal realisation that your body is not only capable of this but actively doing it, your first instinct is to look to Leah. After all, this is the same Leah who can keep her head in the midst of a stadium of screaming fans, who’s always told you, right up until yesterday, that she’s “got this, babe.” The same Leah who’s been planning this night in her head like a military operation—bags packed, snacks labelled, an entire eight-page birth plan on the kitchen counter with sections highlighted in three colours. She’s got this.

You roll over and give her a shake. “Leah,” you hiss, breath short and tight, like you’re hoping the urgency will slip through the layers of her sleep.

She doesn’t stir. Instead, she mumbles something incoherent and continues snoring, entirely oblivious to the fact that you are, in real time, about to bring a whole new human into the world.

“Leah,” you say, louder now, and with a sharper jab to her shoulder. “Leah, wake up. My waters just broke”

This gets her. She bolts upright, eyes bleary and unfocused, looking around with all the awareness of someone woken up by a fire alarm. She has one sock on and her hair is falling out of her bun in every direction, sticking to her forehead in curls that make her look, for lack of a better description, entirely unhinged. What?” she blurts, looking at you like you’ve just told her the moon’s fallen out of orbit.

“I said, my waters just broke. I’m in labour”

She stares at you blankly, and then at the clock. “Now? Like…now, now?”

“Yes, now, Leah. That’s how it works”

“Oh… oh my god. Okay. Right.” She throws herself out of bed, hands flailing a bit in what could generously be called an attempt to find her balance, looking every bit like she’s just woken up in the middle of a burning building. She blinks, rubs her face, and then stares around the room with all the sharp focus of someone who’s lost all concept of time, place, and purpose.

She begins moving around the room, grabbing objects seemingly at random—a pair of your slippers, a half-empty water bottle, the book she’s been reading that she still hasn’t finished because every time she gets to a chapter break she’s distracted by some tangent or half-thought that spirals out of control. You watch as she picks up her phone, only to immediately drop it in a panic.

You try not to laugh. You fail, slightly, but she’s too distracted to notice.

“Hospital bag,” you remind her. “By the door”

“Right, yes. The hospital bag.” She says it with the blankness of someone who’s just been reminded of the existence of the universe itself. She nods emphatically, almost comically, and rushes out of the room, one sock on, one sock off, muttering, “Hospital bag. Yes. By the door. Got it”

For a few blissful seconds, she’s out of the room, and you can breathe, collecting yourself in the strange solitude. You can’t help but feel a strange, surreal amusement in the whole thing—after months of birthing classes, of Leah listening intently to the instructor, nodding along like she was studying for the final exam, of stacks of books and bookmarked articles and quiet reassurances that she’d be ready…she’s now charging through the house like a headless chicken, her panic almost louder than the quiet early-morning calm.

She’s back in less than a minute, looking absolutely horrified. “It’s… it’s not there”

“What do you mean, it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not—by the door. I don’t see it. Did we…did we put it somewhere else?” She’s visibly panicking now, eyes wide and darting around as if the bag might materialise if she looks in enough absurdly irrelevant places, like the windowsill or behind the potted plant.

“It’s by the door,” you repeat, managing to keep your tone steady and encouraging, despite the fact that you’re, oh right, currently in labour.

“Right,” she says again, nodding in a way that looks almost mechanical. “Right, yes. By the door. Of course”

She’s off, scrambling out of the room with one sock half-off, muttering the word “bag” to herself like it’s some kind of holy incantation. The momentary peace of her absence gives you a moment to focus on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling in slow, measured counts, trying to recall the absurd number of hours you spent watching labour tutorials and wondering if any of that information will come back to you now, in the thick of it.

Moments later, she returns, this time clutching the bag triumphantly in one hand. Her face is a strange mix of pride and exasperation, like she’s just conquered Everest but is deeply unimpressed with the mountain.

“Got it,” she announces, as if the sheer act of retrieving it from the entryway deserves some sort of medal. She sets the bag down on the bed with an air of absolute finality, as though the weight of the world has been lifted from her shoulders.

You smile at her, keeping your voice calm. “Alright, love. Let’s get dressed and head out”

“Dressed,” she echoes, her face going blank again as if the concept of clothes is suddenly beyond her comprehension.

“Yes, Leah. Clothes. You might want to put some on”

For a long moment, she stares at the wardrobe as though it’s some kind of cryptic puzzle. Then, with an almost bewildered shake of her head, she pulls it open and begins pulling out clothes at random—a pair of jeans, a jumper she only wears when it’s freezing, and, inexplicably, a thick wool scarf.

“Leah, it’s June”

She freezes mid-scarf-wrap, blinks, and slowly unwinds it. “Right, yeah. June. Good. Warm.” She tosses the scarf aside, looking faintly sheepish.

“Hang on… should I call someone? I feel like we should call someone. Do we… call 999? Or is that just for emergencies?”

“Leah,” you manage between breaths, “this is an emergency. It’s literally… labour. It’s happening right now”

“Right! Emergency.” She nods rapidly, like a bobblehead on overdrive, and jabs at her phone screen with so much intensity that it nearly flies out of her hand. She stops mid-dial, eyes wide with panic. “Wait. No, no…maybe we just drive there? Or do they… do they send someone?”

You look at her, trying not to let your exasperation show through the mounting pain. “Leah, we’re just going to drive. We’ve been through this.”

“Right. Yes. Driving. Of course. I knew that.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to physically dislodge the panic, muttering, “I’m just—okay. Drive. Right. Okay.” She finally lets go of her phone and starts making her way toward the door, muttering things like, “Got it. We’ve got this,” in a way that sounds more like she’s trying to reassure herself than you.

But then she stops. Turns. Looks back at you, blinking in realisation. “Are you…are you alright?”

“I’m in labour,” you say with a thin smile, “so no. Not really. But let’s keep going”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.” She nods like you’ve just imparted some deep wisdom, like the words in labour contain ancient knowledge previously unknown to her.

By now, another contraction has hit, and you’re clutching the edge of the bed, breathing through it with every bit of focus you can muster. Leah watches, horrified, looking like she might faint just from witnessing the sheer audacity of labour itself.

“Should I… is there something I can… I don’t know, can I do something?” She’s hovering now, looking at you helplessly like she’s waiting for you to hand her a to-do list.

You grit your teeth, squeezing out a reply. “Just… breathe. With me. Okay? In… and out”

She takes a shaky breath, her hand rising and falling in time with yours as if synchronising her breathing might somehow keep you both tethered to reality. For a moment, it’s almost peaceful, the two of you breathing in unison, a strange little pocket of calm amid the chaos.

And then, just as quickly, the panic is back.

“Wait. Snacks. We’re going to need snacks”

“Snacks?” you manage, halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“Yes. For energy. They said snacks are crucial.” She’s already halfway to the kitchen before you can protest, practically flinging open cupboards and rummaging through drawers with the frantic energy of someone who’s just realised they’re on an episode of MasterChef and has thirty seconds left on the clock. She emerges with an armful of items that make absolutely no sense together—a banana, a bag of crisps, two protein bars, and, inexplicably, a tin of chickpeas.

You stare at the tin in her hands. “Leah, we’re not bringing chickpeas”

“They’re protein,” she says, with a ridiculous level of conviction.

You watch, trying desperately not to laugh as she rummages through drawers, muttering about water bottles and phone chargers and—god help you both—“emergency blankets.” She’s wearing one shoe, and her sock has somehow ended up on her hand, and she’s pacing so frenetically that she nearly trips over her own feet at least twice.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you manage to corral her towards the door, where she stops suddenly, wide-eyed and visibly distressed.

“Wait!” she exclaims, her hand shooting out to grip your arm in sheer, abject horror. “The… the speaker for the birthing playlist!”

You stare at her blankly for a moment before realising that, yes, she’s referring to the hours-long playlist she’d meticulously curated in the months leading up to this moment—a mix of calming piano tracks, soothing instrumentals, and, inexplicably, a handful of 80s power ballads that she swore would “keep the energy up.”

“We… we don’t have time for the speaker, Leah”

She looks at you like you’ve just suggested abandoning a child. “But you… we planned it. I spent hours on Spotify—”

“We don’t need the speaker,” you tell her, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm. You’re at the door, shoes on, bag in hand, and if she doesn’t start moving soon, you’re fairly certain you’ll be having this baby right here in the hallway.

She stares at you, visibly torn, before finally nodding, reluctantly. “Right. No speaker. We can…we’ll improvise”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling. “We’ll improvise”

And finally—finally—she takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and steps out the door, hand in yours, still muttering under her breath about the playlist, about snacks, about breathing techniques and birthing balls and god knows what else.