#this occurred to me and I wrote the thought down as it came to me so ignore the shitty format and grammar or whatever

[definitelynotarabbit]

You ever think about how tragically flawed all the homonculus from fmab are? They all have their special abilities but when it came right down to it their abilities failed them.

Like specifically Greed. He had his ultimate shield and for 99% of the show it did exactly what it was supposed to. Or at least it looked like it did. But then in his final moments this bastard gives his life to protect Ling and by extension literally everything and everyone else. Something very telling about this is that he's finally satisfied. That single act reframes everything.

At Greed's introduction we're given the impression that Greed is selfish, that his shield is there to protect himself. But when you reframe this with his reaction to Wrath killing the chimeras and his final act, you get a very different picture. Greed valued his possessions above anything else. He wanted to protect them at any cost, including himself.

So with that knowledge, his ultimate shield becomes a goddamn tragedy. This man just wanted to protect those he cared for but was given a shield that could only protect himself.

By extension this also reframes his line to Ed about being the type to brush off a threat until the threat was to a loved one. In this context it suddenly seems a whole hell of a lot more likely that he was speaking from personal experience.

Why else would he leave his body exposed for his first fight with Wrath? It seems to me that he didn’t want Wrath going anywhere near the chimeras and so he made himself a target. He could have just thrown up his ultimate shield (up to his neck, wouldn't want to cover up that face) and fought Wrath a way more effectively. Instead this self sacrificing piece of shit keeps the attention on himself until he physically can't anymore. This guy couldn't bear the idea of losing his loved ones possessions so badly that he was willing to die for them. He literally would prefer death to watching his friends die.

And then the cherry on top is that despite trying to fight to the death with Wrath, Wrath intentionally leaves him alive.

Tldr

The curse of Greed's ultimate shield is that he is forced to survive when others do not. He can only truly protect himself, the last possession he would consider protecting.

[earthtooz]

x : AFTERGLOW :*+ﾟ it's all me, just don't go !

in which: rin doesn't realise what he has until it's gone. now that you're gone, he will do anything to get you back.

warnings: 5.2k wc, ANGST TO FLUFF, breakup, toxic relationship towards the beginning, rin is really mean to gn!reader, hopeful ending, rin is devastatingly in love and pathetic, reader and rin are adults + he's a soccer player, other characters make an appearance and are friends with reader, mentions of throwing up, mentions of food, both reader and rin cry, just listen to taylor swift's 'afterglow'.

a/n: FINALLY, THIS FIC THAT I STARTED ALL THE WAY BACK IN APRIL IS DONE. GOODNESS. i have mixed feelings towards this piece, but i cannot withhold it from the world any longer. i'm going to forget i ever wrote this and move on! this literally took three drafts to finish.

you don’t know when your relationship with itoshi rin began to crumble since it isn’t an event that can be pinpointed, not a date that can be marked in your calender, and most certainly not a reminder you can set in your phone. 

your friends keep telling you that you need to think back on it, that although it hurts, it was a necessary step in healing and getting over him. the more you reflect on it, however, your heart would only shatter into more fragments, with each one piercing you with the memories of better times. 

when did his expression turn sour? when did he begin looking at you with such disdain? when did he decide he didn’t need you anymore?

when did rin’s chips of insecurity wedge themselves between you?

the only memory that serves as an answer occurred at 7:00 pm one regular night. if you think hard enough, you can remember how the plush couch cushions sank under your weight, the clicks of the clock that had a second hand minutely too fast, and the sinking feeling of premonition in your gut. 

the latest rin ever comes back is 6:00, and if not, he would have let you known why he wasn’t home.

so where was he? the takeout you bought for dinner is getting cold and your stomach is growing louder and more impatient by the second. you didn’t want to eat without him though since it’s something you did daily; eating together as a way of debriefing and letting go of the stress that the day brought.

after an onslaught of unanswered phone calls from you, at 7:15, rin merely texts a ‘won’t be home for a while. eat without me’, and although rin was naturally curt and straightforward, the text had a depravity of… him, somehow. either way, his message causes a swirl of emotions in your stomach; unpleasant ones that begin to grow a nauseous shade of green.

you put rin’s takeaway in the fridge regardless, sending him a quick text telling him to be safe and that you’ll see him soon. 

he probably got caught up with something. you’re sure it’ll be fine. 

you shouldn’t have ignored that sinking feeling of premonition. shouldn’t have pushed down the unease swirling in your stomach when shutting the door to the refrigerator before stalking over to the kitchen island with slow steps as you prepare to eat in silence. no one to keep you company except your own thoughts and the ghost of rin’s presence.

and when rin does come home almost two hours later, he stills calls your name as usual, you still go to him as usual, he greets you with a tired smile as usual, you hug him as usual, he doesn’t kiss the top of your forehead, though. you ignore it, pushing your thoughts aside because he was home. he finally came back. you’ll wake up tomorrow and this uneasy feeling will sort itself out.

except it doesn’t.  

from that night onwards, rin changes. slowly, but surely, the cracks of change manifest in your relationship and through it all, you choose to cast a blind eye, plastering over it with sightless belief in your love. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the queasy feeling in your gut never stills. it fades at times when your mind is busy with other things, but it inevitably gets drawn back into the whirlpool of concern regarding your lover- or, rather, rin.

you think you’re still in a relationship, but you don’t really know anymore. you haven’t seen him in a while. the only indication of his existence that you get are the stray bowls he leaves on the kitchen counter whenever he’s done eating, the lessening weight of his protein powder containers, and the decrease of various food items from the fridge that you restock here and there.

it feels like you’re living with a ghost.

some nights, when it gets the most lonely, your mind betrays you, completely eliminating any and all trust you had in rin. 

you wonder if there’s another person. another lover that he feels more passionately for. another lover that his heart had gravitated towards, abandoning yours in the process. perhaps that is the explanation behind his absence. 

but no evidence points towards that conclusion. there has been no suspicious deduction of bills from his bank statement that would suggest infidelity, his location is constantly at the sports stadium whenever you check, and there are no traces of a lover on him- not even you. 

it is not totally blasphemous to assume that itoshi rin wouldn’t be engrossed in soccer to the point that he’d spend unhealthy and obsessive hours into honing his abilities, but it feels a little traitorous that he could forget about life outside of the sport. it isn’t just you he’s neglecting. his mother and father have been constantly asking when he’ll come over to spend some time together, his teammates have been asking you about rin’s whereabouts and when he’ll be free and what’s worse is that you never know how to answer every time. 

it’s embarrassing to be seen as a lover that is forgettable enough for rin to dismiss, so you lie and lie and lie, telling everyone that you’ll tell them later, that he’s fine and just busy, and you lie to yourself. you tell yourself that rin will be home soon so you two can talk about it, and then everything will return to normal.

(your reflection looks through your facade, disheartened and worried.)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

���why are you late?” 

you jump at the voice that greets you when you step foot in the apartment and the sight before you causes you to wonder just how tired you feel, because rin is in your apartment, where he’s meant to be, for once. not only that, but he’s leaning against the couch, adorned in loungewear and slippers, and the sight is too foreignly domestic for your comprehension. 

coming home to a house with someone there feels nice. 

he’s lost a little bit of muscle and fat, but his frame is still as intimidating; shoulders broad and built, just the faintest indicator into the athletic body he’s developed over the years. his hair is a little longer too. 

“oh, rin, hi.” you mutter, surprise evident in your tone.

“hello.”

“since i got a promotion,” you respond simply. rin makes no move to approach you, no initiative to take your bag and put it on the couch for you. instead, he stays rooted in his position leaning against the couch, arms crossed.

the air around him feels hostile, and suddenly you’re almost afraid to speak. “and does that promotion change your work hours or something?”

(he doesn’t congratulate or celebrate your achievement.)

“i work with flexible hours now but the office is further and the commute is so bothersome.”

rin uncrosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, gaze glued to the floor, mind occupied. you approach him slowly, pulling your bag off your shoulder and setting it in the entrance near the genkan with a thud, the sound sobering to him.

when he looks back up, you don’t want to acknowledge the emptiness in his icy eyes, barren of the usual determination that defined itoshi rin. but if you knew that that day would be the beginning of the end, perhaps you would have done something about it.

when you opened your arms for him, perhaps you would have hugged him a little tighter, a little longer, strained all the stress out of his shoulders.

perhaps you would have protected him a little harder from the cruelties of his own mind; shown him that the world was not out to get him, and that there was a place for people like him in the world (people who can’t see their own value and instead, berate themselves for their waning self-worth because they cannot see the light behind them).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“i’m going to shower,” rin declares once the moment both of you step in the safety of your shared home.

“no, you’re not! not before we talk,” you demand, hurriedly taking off your shoes so you can face him before he slips out of your grasp. the dark-haired turns to look at you with an unamused expression, the way tonight seemed to drag on obviously taking a toll on him.

“you’re gonna stop me from taking a shower, really?”

“yes because what the fuck was going on with you tonight?”

he narrows his eyes into slits, the pure intimidation that rin naturally emanates almost threatening you into submission. however, for the humiliation you’ve had to endure tonight, you won’t budge.

“i don’t understand,” rin says monotonously. you roll your eyes.

“you don’t understand? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know what you’re getting mad over.”

“the fact that you didn’t even try to talk to me- let alone look at me, once this entire night?”

your partner looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. “that’s an exaggeration,” he huffs.

“no it’s not!” you recall the looks of pity sent your way when rin sat beside you unmoving and unresponsive to any conversation you tried to make. “would it have killed to show you some sort of interest?”

“would it kill you to not receive attention for one night?” he retaliates. 

“it’s not about that-”

“really? sure feels like it. i don’t have time to shower you with all my attention, y/n, there are other things i have to do.” 

there are a million things you want to say to rin, a million emotions that you have felt whilst he’s been absent, a million examples of how he’s been leaving you behind and how you’re now fed up of keeping these millions to yourself. yet, not a word leaves you, too stunned by the stranger in front of you to voice it all out. 

rin, however, takes your silence as defeat and turns to leave.

“you’re being dramatic. i’m going to shower before i waste anymore time with this lukewarm conversation.” 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the night your relationship officially fell apart is one you still remember vividly, because it only happened a few days ago.

in your memory, the night was nearing 9pm, yet rin had still not come home. 

your heart takes you to him because as much as your relationship with him has caused you nothing but pain recently, you know itoshi rin. you know him because you’re soulmates and where he goes, there’s a fragment of your heart that follows. 

the drive to the practice pitch is nothing but heavy. heavy with your anticipation and stress, you feel your chest constrict and tighten, especially when you pull up into the very empty parking lot. 

“rin!” you shout for the fifth time and only then, does the dark-haired look up at you from where he’s doing dribbling drills. he almost trips over the ball from your interruption. 

“wha- oh,” he turns away just before you can catch the roll of his eyes, the snarl of frustration (one that lovers should never bare at each other). “what do you want?”

you pause a few feet away from him, utterly gobsmacked with the attitude your partner was showing you. after driving all this way, the least you’d want is a little concern, but alas.

“it’s time to go,” you stand your ground. “i’m here to pick you up.”

“yeah, right, i’m not going home.”

“that’s ridiculous! are you not tired?”

“no.”

“rin. c’mon, that’s enough, you need to rest.”

“what the fuck do you know about being enough?” he asks.

the silence is deafening and most hurtful. 

you stammer out the only response you can, “wh-what?”

he doesn’t give you anything. unrelenting, he is. rin has always been the embodiment of stubbornness served cold. not finding much productivity in his silence, you continue speaking with a wavering voice. “let’s go home. please, you shouldn’t be working yourself like this-”

“-leave me the fuck alone!” he finally comes undone. “can’t you see that i don’t have time to deal with headaches like you?”

the thread keeps unravelling.

“fucking lukewarm. i can’t deal with this right now, i don’t need you here.”

“fine,” you murmur. rin has his back turned against you and he prepares himself to kick another ball. “i’ll leave then since you don’t need me.”

when rin arrives home that night, he reasons the unease churning in his stomach on the physical exertion of practice as nothing is out of place. the apartment is as kept and tidy as it typically is, the lights are off because you’ve gone to bed, and there is a meal on the kitchen counter sealed by plastic wrap.

he won’t eat it because he’ll want to throw up otherwise, so rin tucks it neatly into the fridge, not thinking twice about the emptiness on the shelves, right where your favourite drinks are normally kept. 

the athlete washes up quickly and efficiently, a good night’s rest sounding too appealing for his battered body that felt as heavy as lead. 

that night, sleep takes rin and lulls him into a temporary sanctuary, protecting him from the reality that he would wake up to. because when morning comes, he will turn and find that you are not beside him like he expects you to be. your side of the bed is untouched, devoid of any warmth or indicator that you were there.

he checks the bathroom- you’re not there. he calls your name in the hallway- you don’t respond. he scans the kitchen, the study, the living room, and finds nothing but loneliness in each room. there’s no text from you indicating that you were elsewhere.

you’ll return, though. rin’s sure of it.

except you don’t, the hours pass by with rin anticipating your return, and his confidence slowly dwindles with each minute. by the time it’s been 24 hours since he last saw you, his patience runs thin. finding your contact, rin presses the ‘call’ button and is surprised that it does not go through, stopping him after only one ring when an automated voice says ‘this caller is unavailable’. 

the dark-haired stares at your contact in contempt, furrowing his eyebrows when all of his following attempts receive the same treatment, but rin continues stubbornly because you couldn’t have blocked him, right?

was it because of what he said? he didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean to blow up on you like that- how is he supposed to say sorry if he can’t even reach you?

checking his private accounts on various social media, he sees that you’ve blocked him there too. running in to the master bedroom and checking the closet, half of your clothes are missing, and the bag you keep on the shelf is missing too. the bathroom lacks some of your products, your laptop and various chargers are gone from your study space, and the heaviness of your absence hits itoshi rin like a train.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you never did come around to collect your stuff. rin finds a little bit of pain in that fact.

he feels like a ghost, haunted by the trinkets of you that remain littered around his apartment. he doesn't have the heart to throw them out, not when they're the closest thing to you he can get.

a few times rin sees you in his dreams. a few times he sees you in his nightmares, looking completely hurt and run-down by his recklessness and neglect, but most mornings he wakes up feeling emptier, no one to turn to on your side on the bed. not anymore. there’s no body to hold when he needs it most, there’s no one to keep him company whilst he eats dinner, there’s no love. not since the day you left.

you, on the other hand, find it odd to live life without a second person in the periphery. you thought rin was the one for you, you never had any thoughts about what life could be without him because you were certain that it would be him that you spent the rest of your years with, so learning to accommodate without him is gnawing you away, the little bug of loneliness festing on your newfound independence. 

you’re seated on the floor of your best friend’s living room when reo texts one day, interrupting your apartment hunt.

reo: Are you still coming to my party?

you scrunch your eyebrows at the text, unknowing of where it was coming from.

y/n: not anymore. what’s up?

reo: Why not :( reo: Please it’d be so fun

y/n: don’t you know that rin and i broke up?

reo: Ok but he’s definitely not coming reo: It’s Rin, he doesn’t have a life so you’re fine. Pls say you’ll come

reo: Plus he’s been all mopey ever since so I don’t think he’s in a party mood

you dutifully ignore the last part of reo’s statement. after a little more coaxing, he finally manages to get you to agree to come, but not without a feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. still, it would be a shame to miss out on an invitation from a friend because of it. 

besides, reo’s bargain of offering to buy your outfit was too tempting to let go. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“practice was rough,” bachira murmurs, flopping on the sides of the soccer field with a sigh. his sweat causes his hair and clothes to cling to his skin, and isagi takes a seat on the bench beside his best friend, tossing the dual-tone haired his water bottle.

wiping the sweat off his forehead, isagi agrees with a hum. “i know. i just want to go home.”

“i don’t know how rin does this, staying overtime and all of that.”

“he’s insane. it only got worse after his breakup and everything.”

bachira frowns, looking over to where the dark-haired in question is standing. “i feel bad for rin-rin, seems like he’s not taking it well at all.”

a beat of silence passes before bachira speaks again. “you know y/n’s coming to reo’s party this weekend?” 

the black-haired wipes his mouth before setting the water bottle down. “really?”

“yeah. reo told me.”

“that’s nice, it’s been a while since we’ve seen y/n so it’d be nice to catch up.”

“i wonder if rin knows.”

“i doubt it,” isagi reassures, “he hardly goes to parties like the one reo’s throwing.”

“maybe that’s why y/n agreed in the first place.”

“probably.”

a cold voice suddenly cuts the two from their conversation “y/n’s going to reo’s party?” 

isagi feels his blood cool over before looking up. there, stands itoshi rin, who has a frazzled, yet equally determined look in his eyes, one that isagi has not seen in a while (not since you left). “what? no! where did you hear that from?” 

bachira laughs nervously, “you’re hearing things, rin-rin!

but they are soccer players, not actors or professional liars. “shut the fuck up, asshats. y/n’s going to reo’s party this weekend?”

the two exchange a look and their silence is the only answer rin needs. 

“hold on, you’re not thinking of going, are you?” isagi asks, accepting defeat and now switching tactics.

“why wouldn’t i? my partne-” he pauses. “y/n is gonna be there.”

“yes but-”

“-you can’t stop me from going, so don’t even think about it.”

without another word, rin is gone, stalking away with a scary determination that was previously dormant. 

“what did we just do?” bachira mumbles. “should we tell y/n?” 

“nah.”

“agreed.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you should have never come to this party.

how stupid and foolish of you, but how utterly cruel of the universe to let you hurt like this, to let the same pain that has walked all over you for the past few months return; this time ramming into you with the ferocity of a bull, knocking the air out of your lungs

“y/n!” comes the dreaded call of your name. you walk a little faster, breaking into an-almost sprint.

“y/n!” 

“for fucks sake- y/n!” this cry of your name is broken, rasped and pathetic, and your chests clenches from how pained it sounds. like a howl from an injured wolf, it is broken enough for you to pity it, luring you into a trap that will inevitably end in chunks being torn from your heart, but you don’t have much left to spare, so you keep running, no matter how badly you want to give in.

except it’s not enough to deter rin, nothing ever be when there’s a goal in sight, especially one so close that he can taste it.

“y/n, please, i need to talk to-”

“-go away, rin!” you cut him off, hugging yourself tighter to shield yourself against the cold and rin’s pleas from piercing you. 

“not until you listen to me!”

fury powers you, igniting you with the courage to turn around and finally face him. you don’t look him in the eye, keeping your gaze elsewhere, but he shuts up nevertheless, awestruck by finally being able to see you face-to-face after being so long away from you. all words die on his throat, withering away to nothing as his eyes slightly widen in shock.

you’re just as beautiful as the day you left; perhaps even more so.

rin wonders if your radiancy was birthed by his absence, and if the answer is ‘yes’, he might wither away on the spot.

“it’s always about you isn’t it?” you shout. “always about what you want and never about what others want. you said you wanted me to leave, so i did! what more could i possibly give?” 

he gulps, utterly entranced as his heart makes itself known in his chest, racing wildly and vividly; the first indication that it was alive and hadn’t been replaced by a gaping hole in your absence. he hasn’t felt this human since you left. 

“i didn’t mean for you to actually leave,” rin confesses shakily. 

“well, it didn’t seem like you wanted me to stay either.”

“no, that’s not-” he falters. “it’s… not the same without you.”

you hug yourself tighter. “i don’t believe you, you’re just saying that now that there’s nobody to warm your bed.”

“no, it’s not like that- i don’t like living without you,” the athlete continues, admitting something so heavy with such airiness.

“you can’t just say that after so long. not when you’ve been living without me months before we broke up.”

there are a million and one things that rin wants to say to you, but none of them break through the whirlwind that is his thoughts, rattling around in his brain on overdrive and overwhelming him with the intensity of them all. one thing he knows for sure is that you are the single muse behind all of them, the only thing that is keeping him sane amongst the flurry of disturbances.

then, you shiver from the chilly breeze of the night, and the whirlwind is silenced into oblivion to awaken a dormant instinct of his instead. one that commands him to fulfil a duty that he’s not inclined to do anymore.

quickly, rin takes off his jacket and holds it out to you, as if expecting you to take it. 

he drops it when you don’t, hope dwindling in his stomach.

swallowing weakly, he then asks “would you ever give me a second chance?”

“you’ll hurt me again,” you glance away, the street lamps highlighting the melancholy in your profile as rin observes you closely. his eyes outline the curves of your face, each divet and slope that he used to trace with his hands now out of his reach. “you take and you take, but you never give and i’m so tired of it.”

“don’t say that,” he pleads, voice barely louder than a whisper as the dark-haired takes a heavy step towards you. “you’ll break my heart.”

“i shouldn’t love you anymore, you’re bad for me.”

“then i’ll be good- i’ll become whatever you want me to be-”

“-we won’t work like that.”

“we’ll work as long as i’m yours again, just, let me fix us, i’ll do whatever it takes. i’m not giving up like this.” 

the first tear makes herself known and paths the way for your downfall like a tsunami, washing away whatever you had built up during your time away from itoshi rin; the good and the bad. the hurt and the healing, all undone by a singular, stray tear. in your vision, he becomes nothing but a blur, a kaleidoscope of colours that you once loved.

a kaleidoscope of colours that you still love, much to the chagrin of your broken heart. 

a hand wraps around your wrist, a warm shackle that grounds you to rin like he’s your lifeline. no matter how bad you want to push him away, something in you will always bend to him. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, voice airy and breathy. “i’m sorry, please don’t cry.”

please don’t cry because of me.

“i don’t want to be with you if it means i need to go through all of that again.” you whisper, slipping out of his grasp like sand and wiping away your own tears, rejecting his callous and prickly touch. 

rin’s world dims as panic seizes his throat. “please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.”

“i do though. you left me first, don’t you know?” 

“-i do.”

“and now i’m not yours to care about anymore-”

“i know, i know,” words are merely spilling out of his mouth without much purpose at this point, because he’ll do anything just to delay you leaving, to push back the possibility of you turning around and never seeing you again. why did he have to break who he loved so much? 

still, he pleads for another chance, desperation shining in his eyes as pure longing fills him. you have always been too good to him, he knows, but like the tumultuous tides and their inability to stray too far from the shore, rin will come back to you with his undying devotion. 

even if he thinks you should find someone better than him, that you should be adored by someone who could love you so much better, he can’t let go. to let you go is to let go the one good thing that came to him in life, 

you exhale shakily. “we’ve loved each other for too long.” 

“what do you mean?” he stutters, eyes widening helplessly. 

“i have loved you too much for too long, rin,” you choke, “there has to be an end to us somewhere in sight- you need to accept that.”

“no,” his look of absolute devastation causes a physical recoil in your stomach. “no- not long enough, it’ll never be enough, fuck- even forever won’t be long enough, i can’t let you go like that.”

he crosses the distance between you in the blink of an eye. you can’t see him clearly under the dim light of the night, but you can feel him, so close and so overwhelming, but so cold as his hands come to grasp yours. his grip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel his determination. 

tears dance along his lashline. 

“please, tell me you’re still mine,” begs the dark-haired. rin’s tears are diamonds, in which they are precious, but they also crumble into a precious waterfall that rolls down his cheeks, tempting you towards his beautiful ruination. 

words continue to tumble out of him, each one sharpened to pierce your defences. “tell me that we’ll be fine, that i’m all you want, please. i’m so fucking sorry for hurting you, but please don’t leave me. 

i’ll fix us, i’ll become everything you need, i’ll be good.”

the dark-haired’s hands find their way to your face, cupping each side of your jaw with a scary gentleness; one that you’d never expect from someone as ragged as itoshi rin. 

“i love you,” he declares, so raw, so full of passion that it makes you sick. the rin you know never lets his heart on his sleeve like this. 

you cave. “how will you fix us?” 

slowly. he’ll rebuild everything that you have given him.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

first, rin takes you out on dates again. calls you beautiful and really means it.

second, rin leaves practice at regular times, and listens when you tell him that he needs to take care of himself. because for you, he will. 

third, rin picks you up from work. his practice ends a little earlier than your job, so he always goes the extra mile to be there for you at the end of the day. even if you tell him that he doesn’t need to go out of his way to do so, he’d rather see you get home safe than only receiving a mere text of confirmation. 

plus, it gives rin more time with you.

fourth, rin sends you regular gifts. from bouquets, to random items that he just knows you’d like, they all get left at your door at the best times. 

fifth, rin lets you set the pace. you wanted things to go slow so that you two didn’t have to force anything back in place. no point recreating something that’s in the past, you reasoned, so might as well try again.

sixth, rin takes his time in welcoming you back into his space. it’s a few months after you two have reconciled, and majority of your items are back where they belong (you poked fun at him for not being able to throw away the stuff you did leave, and he just mumbled something indecipherable, all embarrassed, before moving on). the life has been restored in his apartment, now filled with more remnants of you loitering around his space: your various chargers and laptop, your products, your clothes, they all sit beside his things like that’s where they are meant to be.

and you are back in his arms, because it is where you are meant to be (more for his sake than yours).

rin stirs awake one morning under the gentle light of the morning sun and you’re there beside him, occupying the space that he has left devastatingly empty. mattress still curved to your frame as he never dared infiltrate it, in hopes that you would return.

now that you have, you feel too warm, too familiar, too unreal that he wonders if you’re just another dream of his. 

then, you stir, and press yourself closer against his chest, face to face with the heart that only beats for you.

a stray tear rolls down rin’s face; a salvation for the utter relief he feels, as well as the overwhelming amount of adoration that he stores for you. his ‘i love you’ is sweeter than the chirping of the birds outside, and certainly more meaningful as he wraps more of himself around your sleeping figure, hoping to attach all of him to all of you. 

you’re home. he won’t let you leave again.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[barleyo]

Consequence.

Adoptive Dad! Enji Todoroki X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: nobody asked for this but idc :3 i wrote this as a b-day present for myself!! i luv this old abusive man so bad oh my god!!! nasty old man who tries to be good but fails so miserably :3 old man who is just MEANT to be awful and abusive and gross!! luv it!!! i wanted to do a full on incest fic w him but idk if anybody would be interested >_< just let me know!!

Tags: adoptive-incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (18-50s), p in v, purity, sexual abuse mentions, loss of virginity, allusions to physical abuse, size difference, creampie, gross nasty stuff in general

Wordcount: 1.6k

Once all of his kids had given him a final 'fuck you' and left him on his own, Enji felt the pressure of loneliness crash down on him. Being on top in the hero rankings was worthless to him when he came home to an empty house. Every second he sat alone in his house, he realized that it was simply too big for just one man. It had never been a home, only a house where a fragmented family resided. Only once his kids fled did that realization hit him. 

He needed to fill the space and quick, and more than that, he needed to start over. He wanted to redeem himself somehow. Whole new family for a whole new man. 

But dating was hard at his age, and all the decent women were taken. Only fame-chasing whores were interested in him at this point, and he couldn't blame them. What the hell else did he have to offer? No woman would want to be with a tired, emotionally constipated, divorced, middle-aged man. Nor would any want to have kids with one, especially not at his age. 

Adoption it was. Simple enough. Plenty of kids in the system. Plenty of needy little brats that could benefit from his new-found, new-wave parenting tactics that he read up on in his abundant spare time. 'Don't abuse your kids.' Who would've thought it? Crazy. 'Top ten reasons why your kids won't visit you when you're in the nursing home.' Well, shit. 

He knew he had to go older. He would be absolutely damned if he would take in a toddler, or worse, a tween. He wasn't ready to raise anyone— he needed something already broken in for the most part. 

17? Yeah, that should be fine. He could do that. Old enough to take care of itself for the most part. Another body in the house was what he needed, not another responsibility. A girl? Yeah. Girls were supposed to be easier, right? Girls are sweet and grateful, always considerate and willing to help out. Girls are gentle and tender. 

Just his luck. He got the most clingy girl the foster care system had to offer. It was, at most, a bit irritating for the first few days when you were skittish and nervous around him all the time, but he understood. The problems occurred when you started to get comfortable.

He thought he wanted an affectionate little thing, especially considering the radio silence he received from his biological children, but this was just too much. Wherever he was, you needed to be. All day, all night. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, excluding when he was on patrol. 

Enji knew that adopted kids tended to have abandonment issues, or whatever, but did you have to be such a damn velcro child? It was cute, in a way, the first year or so of your stay with him. He kinda liked it, having some positive attention finally turned his way, but at a certain point it was just too much. 

Like when you turned 18 and decided that sleeping alone was no longer an option. Of course, he gave in. He tried to argue back, but the threat of tears from you was too much for his now mended heart. He was trying to change, damn it. He couldn't possibly not give you everything you ever asked for. 

'Oh, what's that? Sleeping in daddy's bed isn't enough? He has to spoon with you until you fall asleep? Honey, do you really think—? No, no, don't cry. Okay, okay, I'll do it.'

Or when spooning wasn't enough, and you needed to be massaged before falling asleep in Enji's arms, taking up his bed like nobody's business. 

'What's wrong, baby? Daddy's already rubbing your back, what else do you want? Touch you where? Baby— okay, since you said please.'

Every night, his thick fingers ran tight circles over your clit, strong arms holding you tight while you flailed and wriggled against him. You never seemed to get used to his touch. It was just too good. He split you open with his index and middle, curling into the spot you couldn't quite reach on your own. Every night, like clockwork. 

But, of course, you, the mouse who was given a cookie, asked for more. Fingers weren't enough. You needed more from daddy. Sleep didn't come easily enough for you after his skilled touches. You whined for him after every exchange, but he just couldn't give you what you wanted.

Daddy would do almost anything for his baby, anything you asked! Hell, if it made you happy, if it helped to ease the guilt he carried from his older four screw ups, why not? If it helped to mend the hole he created in his own heart, he'd pepper you in every kiss and suck and touch you as much as you wanted him to, but—

he really didn't think he could deflower you. 

The idea was too much, way too much. Kind of hypocritical of him. Finger banging and slurping on his adoptive daughter was well and good enough, but playing a little game of 'just the tip' was a line he didn't know if he could cross. 

It was tempting, and every time he turned you down he felt like a real douchebag, but he didn't trust himself with you. You were so small. He was anything but gentle. He had broken enough of his kids in other ways, he didn't exactly want to add to the score. 

Your cunt was swollen and drooling after your near nightly ritual with Enji. Crawl up into his bed, whine, scratch at him and beg for his sweet touch. You always got what you wanted, except for one thing.

"Why not?" you whined, gripping onto his forearm as he curled his fingers into you from his spot behind you, lazily acting as your big spoon. 

"This is enough." His teeth were gritted softly, trying to hold himself back. "You cum like this just fine."

You let your mouth hang open, shuddering silently at how he seemed to speed up and abuse your g-spot. "Not enough," you were finally able to make out, legs clenching in an attempt to force him to stop. 

Enji huffed, ignoring your whiny excuse. He hated when you locked him out like this, trying to keep your cunt from him like some type of half-assed punishment. Moving your legs back open, spread even further now, he continued fingering you with the same brutal, forceful pace. 

"You're being bratty, baby. I don't appreciate when you act like that," he said simply, looking down at your convulsing body. 

"You always say that," you said, pushing his arm as you tried to squirm away from him to pout. "You don't wanna 'cause you don't love me. Don't wanna get close t'me." 

That was his final straw. He had been holding himself back for your sake, but he could not handle the hurt tone in your voice, even if he knew you were faking just to get him to bite. 

He pulled his fingers out of your hole and pushed them into your mouth, stuffing the digits down your throat. He slipped his girthy cock out of his boxers, jamming the wide tip into your needy warmth. 

"You know that is not true," Enji said, already fucking into you without regard to how you were almost too tight. He'd fix that. Make you fit like a glove soon enough. "I spoil you enough, and you still want more?"

You moaned, sound coming out muffled from his fingers blocking your words. He pulled them out, strings of saliva coating your cheek as he brought his hand back to your clit. 

"Jus' wanna be closer to you 'nd feel you."

He scoffed, pushing down on your clit with too much force, bringing you to the edge of climax already. 

"No, you're a spoiled brat. I give you too much," he said, not meaning a damn word that came from his mouth. "Got used to getting whatever you want, huh? Selfish little pussy taking everything it can get." 

The pure euphoria you get from him being rough with you for once is unmatched. Daddy gave you what you wanted all the time, and you liked it, but he was too gentle with it. Like he was scared to mess up or make a mistake (again). You needed him to correct you, you'd wanted him to fuck some sense into you for so long.

You clenched the silky sheets on the bed, hands trembling while he pounding into you, hips cramming against yours spastically. 

God, he was ashamed. 

Not because he was fucking his daughter, hell, he came this far without problem. He just usually was much better in bed. Your gasps and shaky moans did little to appease him. Any other time, he'd be composed and sophisticated with his strokes, but he was sloppy and needy now. 

His cock kicked inside of you, twitching when he spilled his seed. He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he hadn't realized how dangerously close he had gotten. 

"Daddy, did you—?"

Your question was interrupted by his hand covering your mouth, unstable thrusts continuing to fill your senses. You couldn't care that he came in you when he made you feel this good.

While your legs shook and your pussy gushed, one thing was made very apparent to both you and Enji:

This was the first time he let himself go and fucked you, but it would definitely not be the last.

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Warnings: Language, past trauma, mentions wounds, ptsd, anxiety, panic, fluff, mentions hurt/comfort, and smut. Plus sized reader. NSFW!

A/N: I missed Eddie. I’m feeling quite down on my body type, so I kind of wrote this with my own body size in mind ❤️

~*~

Eddie Munson always said he didn’t care. Didn’t want to be a boyfriend. Wasn’t pissed off if girls didn’t cling onto him after their brief time together (usually late nights, quiet places). If they don’t want the freak, why would the freaky freak want them? Fuck love, it’s just a facade.

At least, that’s what he used to say until he met you in the Spring of 86. You were involved in Henderson’s little banded family unit, constantly being talked about even before Eddie saw you. He was a bit perturbed already. If you were close to Wheeler and Harrington, you were probably a snob. Quite the contrary, as Eddie remembers clearly, watching you quiet from the sidelines as he’d been told monsters were real, but not cool dragons or slayers — just a teenage girl with mind powers.

Gentle, but rough. You dove in before Wheeler to save Harrington, you jumped back into that disgusting hole in the floor to try and help wake Nancy up, and when it came down to battle? You wore your outfit without fear, and silently had reached for Eddie’s hand on the way to everyone’s stations, squeezing. He’d seen that face before, your vacant expression, a false smile you attempted when you were not in thought. You weren’t okay, but you had been trying to make it that way for everyone else.

And it wasn’t, not for a long time. Not after you lost, he died, Carver died, and Mayfield went into a coma. A fight occurred in Hawkins before he was brought back, one that Eddie still sees in your eyes when the sun goes down and it’s quiet in the trailer, sans the beeping of the smoke alarm. Sometimes you just bring him impossibly closer, that he isn’t sure whose body heat is causing him to perspire. And others, you wake up in his arms, pulling him on top, clinging to his neck, your lips panting pleas into his mouth that ask for help.

Mutual scars, tragedy, blame, regrets, trauma, you helping his recovery, his process, even when he wasn’t so nice, that he wished he’d stayed gone. It’s all there, things that he feels safe only sharing with you. His marked body, one he is comfortable letting only you feel, see. He isn’t sure when it happened, really. But he knows now, especially looking at you beside him, your necklaces hanging around your neck, their charms dangling between your breasts, one leg propped, the other flat, lying open, evidence of the previous half hour shining between your thighs, and he’s propped on his palm, blowing out the last of his cigarette smoke, stubbing out the end.

You’re reading a piece of his work in progress fantasy novel, one based off of things that have happened. You’re lost in his vivid descriptions, captivated by his words, led by the hand that holds his pen. And his enriching, dark eyes, they caving into blown pupils, his ring clad finger trailing down your shoulder, following the curvature into your elbow’s inside. You’re already smiling by the time that he reaches your neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth, trailing wet kisses over your jugular. His arm elongates, easing his creation from your grip to throw aside.

You pretend to huff, and he catches your mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, tastes of smoke, but it’s precise, it’s familiar, it’s Eddie. Your fingers slide through his curls, freshly washed, yet frizzed from previous humidity. You tug on his blood stained pick, and he knows your implications, follows your soft look. He has to tilt your chin, shaking his head. “Remember that I’m right here, sweetheart. All of me but one nipple.”

He treasures you by bestowing that trademark Munson smirk, making your brief panic ebb away to pleasure. And you cave you into him, permitting his fingers to slide against your cunt, cupping. It’s a whine in his mouth that gets him to slide an ankle beneath yours, pulling you open for more availability. You could have anyone, you could’ve had something going on with Steve. But it’s Eddie you go to bed with every night, it’s he that you spend hours talking to on the phone when you’re not together, it’s him who holds you when you have a nightmare, and it’s Eddie Munson that you’ve already given your heart to, unbeknownst to him.

He’s falling into your grip, trying to situate himself, amused as he asks. “Already? Can you take it —“

And he goes head over ass, world Olympics type shit when you manage to maneuver him onto his back, unafraid, sat on top him in all over your glory. Your curves overflow, breasts sitting heavy, begging to be touched. You reach behind you, taking him in your hand. He’s nodding like an eager ass, little nerdy beaver. He could giggle right now. Your pupils are blown to the brim of your irises, a look of lavish possessiveness sweeping across him, and holy fuck does he feel sexy.

He doesn’t have to verbalize his consent, his brazen ‘take me now’ appears in the form of his hands reaching for your tits. You groan upon him getting a handful (and Christ, they still won’t fit). It’s a burning stretch, but you slide down his cock in moments, ones that Eddie holds his breath for, only able to gasp when you’re seated fully, sticky and spread around him.

He cares. He cares so much.

You grasp onto his wrists, clenching around him as he gives you two words, “Go, baby.” And then your hands are dropping to dig into his chest, thumbs beneath his chain, in newly grown out hair along his sternum, making scars feel like warrior wounds he’s proud to own.

You look at, leveling off his hands before they can drop from your breasts, pressing down so that he gets the message to grip tighter.

Fuck. He’s in love. He’s in love with you.

[minhosimthings]

The Elysian Angel || 18+

Synopsis: For the second day of your pact, you make a good friend in a good angel.

Pairing: detective!Jake × fem!reader

Warnings: smut minors Dni, oral (f receiving), anal sex, switch Jake, slight dom!reader, praise, degradation, p in v sex, dumbification, use of petname 'pup', mention of food and alcohol, Heeseung being an asshole

A/N: My apologies that this took a lot of time. Unfortunately I was travelling and i didn't find time to edit and do all that crap. Also my dumbass wrote the smut on the plane so again, apologies if it is not satisfactory. No I cannot for the life of me praise myself

Series Masterlist

The tiny cactus pot near his bedroom window had never seemed more interesting to Jake than now, as he thought over the events that had occured this evening.

Now, hungover and somewhat peckish, Jake thought of his two best friends, a drunk woman, and even more drunker pact. What had he called it? Something with Heeseung and jealousy and whatnot.

Ah yes Heeseung, Jake had a eureka moment, he had cheated on his wife had he not? And she had come to the police precinct and she had beat him in drinking bourbon...yes he remembered now!

Jake sighed to no one in particular as he cuddled into his blanket, watching the way his cactus blocked the shimmering moonlight from entering the room. He was weirdly craving sugar at the moment.

Maybe he should treat Heeseung's wife to his favourite cake tomorrow, he thought, what was her name again? Lee Y/N.

No not Lee, Jake yawned, no she's divorced now, his last thought came as he drifted off to an eager tomorrow.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"So—" Jake leaned on the table, staring into Sunghoon's eyes, "—how was it last night?"

"Heavenly." Sunghoon sighed dreamily into his coffee, "She gave me some advice on how to-."

"I meant the sexual part." Jake chuckled, "You know, the part where your peni-"

"Yeah yeah I got that!" Sunghoon coughed loudly, though there weren't any other officers in the break room at the moment, save for Jay and Jake who had been listening fondly to Sunghoon show off his new coat, "It was... great! Might I add, she can take a lot. And I mean a damn lot." He widened his eyes to maximise the effect.

"Maybe you just have a tiny dick." Jay snickered, which made Jake spill a waring amount of coffee out of his nose.

"Jake what the fuck!" Sunghoon recoiled, as Jake cleaned himself up, still laughing, "Hey don't do that around her alright?" Sunghoon made a disgusted expression, wiping off the coffee from the table.

"So where is she staying right now?" Jay asked, taking the attention away from Jake's sopping wet shirt, "She can't go back to Heeseung's so—?"

"I dropped her off at a friend's." Sunghoon sipped his coffee, relishing the bitter taste of the grinded beans, "And before you ask, Mister lover boy—", Jake laughed raucously at his quip, "Yes she's fine. And weirdly happy too."

"Where is this friend's place?" Jake asked curiously, glancing at Jay who was looking suspiciously at him, "I-I wanted to take her out...for some cake." He finished awkwardly leading the two men to look at him with raised brows.

"What?" Jake scoffed, "Can't I treat a lady to some cake before I- you know."

"Fighting Jongsoeng for the lover boy position Jake?" Sunghoon laughed, "I'm impressed." He took a look at a glaring Jay, which motivated him further, "Her house is on Baker's Street, the second one when you enter."

"Is that really necessary?" Jay questioned, the gravel in his voice was evident, "She never asked you to buy her cake."

"And yet I want to." Jake answered, downing his coffee in one go, before getting up briskly, "See you later boys."

"Um, sir you have files to complete." Sunghoon interrupted, but Jake was faster in striding out the door.

"Do them for me would you Sunghoon?!"

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

The atmosphere around the cafe was pleasant, as the cool evening wind blew against your face. The light brown coloured cake sat patiently in front of you, with only a few bite marks decorating it.

"Thank you for taking me here." You said to the man in front of you, who looked up at you with widened brown eyes, before offering a smile.

"No harm in treating a lady is there?" He poked at his own piece of cake with his fork, "I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything before we—" he smiled awkwardly, "—go into the details of the pact."

You felt him internally cringe at what he had said so you quickly diverted the topic. "Do you come here often?" You asked.

Jake's ever present grin appeared again, as he nodded, looking fondly at the small cafe, which smelled like pine trees to you, though perhaps it was from the fact that you were sitting outside. "It's one of my favourite places to come when I need to take a breather."

You smiled at the man's words as you took the last bite of the cake, closing your eyes to taste it properly. It melted right into your mouth, and you savoured the caramel flavour, sweet yet having a tinge of salt in it. You almost felt like you could have-

"What the fuck are you doing with her?"

That voice.

Your eyes burst open, to locate the source of it, the siren like tones which had once intoxicated you, not irritated you. You first landed on Jake, who was looking behind you with a somewhat terrified expression. Whipping your head around you saw him.

Lee Heeseung.

"And might I ask what you are doing here?" You tried to keep yourself calm, reminding yourself it's a public place.

"Y/N, what are you doing with him?" Heeseung's brow was dripping with sweat and his face was formed in a glare. He looked ferocious.

"I'm not your wife anymore Heeseung." You stated calmly, though you were internally fuming, "So please, can you leave us alone?"

"So you're fucking my colleagues now huh?" Heeseung chuckled loudly, catching the attention of a few people around, "Sort of forgives me for just fucking one other girl doesn't it?"

"Forgives you?"

Your voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter. It had a tone to it which Jake had never heard before. It was....colder.

"Are you actually being serious, Heeseung?" You laughed, this time it didn't warm Jake's cheeks. It rather broke through his eyes like icicles.

"You don't have even one right to be forgiven. In fact you don't have any!" You scoffed, "I'm surprised you even have the gall to fucking approach me right now, because trust me, if I were you, I would have hid my face in my bedroom until I died." Jake was taken apart by the very new air of you he was seeing, "So please kindly fuck off would you?"

Heeseung's teeth gritted as he glared daggers at Jake, giving you one final, venomous look before spinning on his heel, and angrily stomping away. The sight of it was practically cartoonish.

"Are you alright?" Jake asked from behind you, you turned to see his worried eyes. His voice was the sweet honeyed one you knew well and proper.

"I'm fine, thank you Jake." You gave him a smile, concealing how much the incident had shaken you.

"It's getting dark." Jake lent you an arm which you gladly took, "Shall we head home?"

"Lead the way." You gave him a final grin.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Do all detectives have such nice looking houses?" You chuckled, looking around Jake's apartment. Though not as homely as Sunghoon's was, it certainly was cozy, giving off the same rustic vibes as the cafe. A maroon divan sat in the corner.

"Was Sunghoon's fairy cottage that beautiful?" Jake chuckled, inviting you to sit beside him on the sofa. "Perhaps its just my preference of cottages." You chuckled, though you certainly had no complaint against Jake's apartment.

"You'd like Jay's house then." Jake said, leaning back against the wall of the sofa. Silence passed for what felt like an hour (though it was only five minutes), until Jake finally spoke up.

"How did Sunghoon ever get you into his bedroom?" Jake asked, startling you from the sudden break of silence, "Because I am extremely nervous right now. But then again—" he grinned, "—Park Sunghoon can get even a cupid into his sheets."

"And you can't?" You quizzed, admiring his features, as he shook his head.

"It's a bit shameful for a man to admit but–" he chuckled darkly, "–at the most I've had two women in my bed."

"Would that make me the third?" You fluttered your lashes at him, making him gulp, "Come on, detective Sim," you smirked, “Don’t you want to play with me?” 

Jake's voice catches in his throat as you lock eyes with him. Your eyes are soft and kind, like usual, but the more he looks, the more he begins to notice a hint of lust glazing them. Neither of you move for a moment, studying each other's expressions. Jake moves closer to you, though not close enough for you.

"Closer, detective." you smirk, pulling him closer to kiss him full on his plump lips. His hands find their way to your waist. He pulls you closer to him, and your legs seem to mindlessly straddle his lap. You can't fight the urge to grind your hips against his pelvis, slowly rocking back and forth.

He groans quietly as the two of you continue to kiss, and you use this opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. His saliva has faint tastes of coffee and whiskey.

Jake's fingers mindlessly fiddle with the top button of your blouse, unsure as to whether or not he should undo them. You undo the top one, prompting him to undo the rest. His face is warm and pink as you pull away from the kiss leaving a string of salvia behind, and you can feel his cock harden beneath you as you continue to grind on his lap.

You push your hips into his, his hard-on pushes up into the wet patch on your panties. Slowly, he pushes your skirt down your thighs, and you momentarily stop grinding on him to help take your skirt off. Your bare thighs hover in the cool breeze from the evening. You leaned in for another kiss.

"Wait," Jake stops you, hands rubbing into your waist. With his lusty sinews, Jake picked you up, you wrapped your legs tightly around his hips to secure yourself as he led you into the adjacent room.

"I don't think we should mess my sofa up, eh pup?" The nickname had your core erupting into lava.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"You're so pretty..." Jake whispered into your ear as he lay you down on the bed. His bedroom, though tiny, was spacious enough, for you to collect your mind.

"Let's leave the compliments for later detective." You smiled at him, nipping the bud of his ear with your teeth, "For now, " you whispered seductively, "Shall we begin?"

You could feel Jake's nervousness, from the way his body tensed up. Inexperienced man, you thought, you were about to have a lot of fun.

“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin, you were about to take the lead, if he wasn't going to. A woman couldn't have waited all day could she?

Jake complied, easier than you thought, opening his mouth allowing to shove two fingers inside, just like Heeseung had once did to you. He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand. 

“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out. 

You let go of his hand so you could guide his head to where you needed his mouth. Your hands wound tightly into his hair, legs struggling to stay open as you felt the heat of his tongue against your core.

Jake slid it shallowly into your folds. The sensation made you whine and grab his head to push him further. He resisted but soon gave you what you want. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as he tasted you and let a gloriously loud moan vibrate against your center.

“Do that again- Shit, just like that, right there.” you moaned as you felt every bud of his sharp tongue, "G-Good boy...."

You weren't interested in taking it slow tonight, being wet since he had touched you.

He licked a stripe up your vulva, his tongue flat and getting every inch of your pussy till he reached your clit where he wrapped his lips around it and gently sucked.

Your back arched on the bed, one hand going straight to his hair as your orgasm quickly built. Your pussy clenched around nothing as he started flicking his tongue against you.

"Fuck...Jaeyun!" You screamed his name out, which built up the fire in him, "You're being so good for me...."

The other hand not threading through his tresses fisted the sheets of his bed tighter as your hips began to roll and grind against his face in circular motions, trying to catch that sensation of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Your body had a mind of its own, sinking deeper and deeper into the burning hot abyss of pleasure and reach the high you were quickly ascending to.

But before you could grasp that high properly, you felt a discerning movement.

"Jake!" You cried, suddenly feeling the familiar taste of his tongue leave your walls empty, "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

"Shh, baby." Jake shushes you, which makes you hold your tongue quickly. Jake let's go of one of your thighs and unbuckles his belt, pulling down his zipper and pushing down his pants. He lets out a deep breath again when he finally feels free and without his tight trousers around his hips. Jake looked magnificent as he admired you laying in front of him. Wild, primal thoughts flanked every neuron of his mind.

"Turn on your side for me." He commands you, with lust filled eyes, "Now." He adds as if it's an afterthought. You quickly obliged, finding his tone of voice enamouring you into obeying him. You couldn't wait for what he was about to do.

Jake knows it's wrong, to fuck another man's wife, but fuck—he couldn't help himself, and anyway you had agreed to this. So there he was, hard cock slipping between your thighs as he thrusts his hips slowly, biting his tongue to prevent the guttural groans threatening to escape his lips. Jake's veined hands slip under your bra, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his thrusts grow slightly faster while his hand grasps at your tit tightly, sinfully thankful that Heeseung had given you up.

"F-Fuckkk-" you groaned painfully as Jake slipped into your ass, you needed time to adjust, "Jaeyun wait—"

Your words meant nothing to him as every thrust stretches you to the shape of him, his cock ramming painfully into your cervix with each thrust. He takes you, uses you as his hips bounce against your ass, shaking you with the force of every movement. Your moans grew louder and louder with each thrust, you felt his hot breath against your neck, and yet he didn't stop, only growing more possesive by the second.

"Fucking hell baby." Jake's accented voice tingled against your skin, "such a good pup for me aren't you?"

The sensations of his mere words burn through your core as your toes curl while he fucks into you with such a possessive need that your whole body trembles with the overwhelming pleasure. His obeying tendencies earlier had changed into a much more obsessive one, turning you on even more.

His expression grows almost enamored at how you're squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible, squeal from you as he pinches your clit.

You're constantly on the edge, slipping in and out of consciousness from his assault on your cervix, harsh-angry thrusts punctuating his words.

"Faster—" you moaned, not realising how much his dick was controlling your mind now, "Jaeyun, fuck—faster please...."

"Faster?" Jake's low voice vibrated on your skin as he chuckled, pulling you against him in a brisk fashion, making you cry out in pleasure, "Am I making you feel good baby?" You nodded, not even hearing his words, fuck he was making you feel better than ever.

"Dumb–" one thrust, "—fucking–" the second, "—pup." He accentuated every word clearly.

Your eyes roll back, and he fucks your hips right back on him with his tight grip on them. Even when the rope breaks, and you’re pushed under—thighs shaking in illicit euphoria as you leak around him, he doesn’t stop.

Like some rabid animal, he takes you back in-then out again with his movements—his thoughts becoming scrambled, accentuated with primal, violent pushes and pulls before he’s slamming back in you again as tears gather in your eyes.

"Jaeyun!" You scream again, feeling your cunt throb for even a mere touch of his dick, which was stretching your back out so well, "I want you Jake.. please.." your begging makes it just sweeter for him.

He gulps and kisses you passionate, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. Hands on your waist, he grips you tightly and flips you over onto your back, the skin on your back tickled as it hit the sheets. He grabs his shaft and runs his tip through your folds, teasing your clit a little bit.

"Fuck, Sunghoon was right," he breaths out, "You really can take a lot and nods. Slowly and carefully he starts to push his fat tip against your entrance, pushing and pushing until his tip was in.

He watches your face for any sort of pain or discomfort but sees nothing, so he pushes forward again until you knit your brows together in pain.

"don't stop, fuck." you whisper against his lips, which motivated him further, "Fuck~Jake!" You moaned, as he moved ever so slightly

The man began to move faster, starting a stutter in his hips that ended up colliding against yours forcefully. It hurt you, it was too abrupt, and that feeling remained there even though the pleasure clouded your mind and senses.

Jake leaned over your sweaty, flushed body to get a better angle, you could see his face better and closer.

He had flowing strands of his black hair stuck to his forehead from sweat, the rest fell on your forehead, tickling you. And his seducing gaze that evaluated each and every one of your expressions, as if he were memorizing them.

You lower your hips slowly before bringing them back up. Jake presses his face against your chest, his own arms moving to wrap around you. His hips move down, fucking into you.

You try to help him as best you can but your thighs are already starting to hurt from being in this position too long.

It didn't seem like Jake minded though. In fact once he notices you’re giving your body up to him he seems to find some super strength because before you know it he’s ramming into you.

His thin lips moved against yours and his tongue made your mouth open to give way to his.

And he was there, kissing you, giving you pleasure and pain, both in a play or duality. His hips were now moving precisely, at a speed that you both enjoyed. His lips dancing over your mouth took away the little breath you had left. The head of his erection began to hit a delicious spot deep in your intimacy that, along with the movement of his thumb squeezing and stretching your clitoris, made your mind blur and spin.

"You can take it," Jake said, noticing your expression, bringing his head down as his tongue swirled over your nipples. Your back arched at the contact, your legs beginning to shake as he brought his hand over to rub on your clit.

Your nails scratched at Jake's back ruthlessly, clawing and taking your way down as you felt the muscles tense underneath your touch. You get your orgasm building up slowly, a dam threatening to burst with every snap of his hips. Your legs began to shake underneath his grasp, your nails digging into the flesh of his back as he buried his head into your shoulder. His cock twitched inside your cunt a couple seconds later, indicating that he was close to his orgasm.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close to you as he continued to thrust inside of you. His eyes rolled back, his cock shooting out ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

Jake's thrusts came to a slow stop. His hand left your throat and went to the back of your head, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. He pulled away and looked into your eyes for a few seconds before pulling out of you. He laid down next to you, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.

"Whiskey?" "By all means."

|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"This—" You took a deep sniff of the liquid, "—is delicious."

"Jay gifted it to me." Jake took a sip from his glass, savouring the burning taste from the bubbling whiskey, "I feel as if our love language is gifting each other alcohol, especially Jay, with all his knowlege in it."

For the second time since the last two days, you couldn't comprehend why Jay's name had made the veins in your heart abruptly stop, like water against the rocks of a seashore. Though you certainly knew of the tiny red ants in your mind which whispered to you, about love and whatnot.

Well, you sighed to yourself, tomorrow was merely hours away.

Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pockettwinzz @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @noonareads @deobitifull @luvitria @wonibae @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @saanvilovessunghoon @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @heesminee3 @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe + taglist is open!

[milswrites]

Stubborn Little Fox

~ Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Eris struggles to look after his stubborn mate when you are sick.

Warnings: Poorly reader but it’s pretty much fluff. Maybe some suggestiveness.

Notes: Just a silly little fic to tide you over until I finish the angst I’m writing. Dedicated to @sarawritestories who wrote me this exact scenario in an attempt to get me to stop writing and go to bed 😌

Your bed was empty.

Again. 

The wrinkled covers pulled back to reveal the bare sheets of where you had once laid, where Eris was supposed find you soundly sleeping upon entering the room.

The Autumn Prince cursed lowly under his breath, knuckles turning white with frustration as he tightly gripped onto the tray of food he had prepared for you.

It was easier to control his hounds - Eris thought as he carefully placed the tray down on the edge of the bed, lest he toss its contents onto the floor in his anger.

Eris was used to completing impossible jobs, and yet nothing has been more difficult than trying to wrangle his sick mate and convince you to sleep away your illness. Your inability to sit still making caring for you harder than Eris had initially anticipated.

He needn’t try too hard to find you, a swift wander down the hall and to his office was all Eris needed to walk before he opened the door to find your sickly form hunched over his desk with a pen in hand. Scribbling away at whatever documents had been left for you once you had recovered.

It was impossible to stop the exasperated sigh which fell from his lips as he took in the paleness of your face and the worrying sheen of sweat which had coated it.

“And why, pray tell me, aren’t you in bed where you’re supposed to be Little Fox?” Eris snarled, all comfort forgotten as he once more found himself trying to coax you back towards your bed.

With shaking hands you reluctantly place your pen down, guilty eyes meeting the burning stare of your mates unforgiving glare. “I’ve got work to finish!” You defend, gesturing to the stack of paperwork which had only grown during your absence from your job.

At your excuse, the red-haired male inhaled deeply, a disbelieving hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. And it wasn’t until Eris exhaled his frustrations that he allowed himself to reply as softly as he could, “work can wait until you’re feeling better.”

“It can’t,” you reason, a disappointed sigh drawing from your sickly lips, “I’m far enough behind as it is. Another day without work and I’ll never be able to catch up. Besides, I’m fine. I feel much better now.”

Whilst Eris prided himself on holding back the roll of his eyes which threatened to occur, he failed to stop the raise of his brow as you proceeded to burst into a fit of coughs after your weak-willed reassurances.

“All better?” He mused, a small smirk finding its home on his lips as he watched you pitifully try to compose yourself. Innocent eyes meeting his own as your incessant coughing eventually came to a halt.

“I have to say Little Fox, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you like going against my orders” Eris chided, slowly walking towards you as he spoke. Each step forward drawing you deeper into his hypnotic trance. “Would I be correct in assuming you keep leaving your bed because you want me to scold you?” He asks teasingly, bringing his face down to meet yours, until his playful eyes were level with your own.

“I can’t say I’d hate it if you had to take care of me” you replied honestly, unable to help the way your gaze drifted towards your mates slightly parted lips.

“Is that not what I’ve been doing all this time?” Eris feigns hurt which fails to read through his wicked smile, “Taking care of my mate?”

“I can think of a few more ways I’d like to be taken care of” you answer, hoping to be seductive but ultimately failing as another round of coughs wrack your chest.

“Later” Eris chuckled, his strong arms coming to lift you from where you were sat, “for now you need sleep.”

You furrow your brows in protest, opening your mouth to argue with your mate before he beat you to it. Eris’s soothing voice acting to calm you, “Don’t worry, I’m going to have to cuddle you just to make sure you don’t run off anywhere else.”

Eris’s warm lips came to meet your aching forehead, his kiss already working to dissipate the uncomfortable pulsating of your sore temples. Your mates healing touch enough to already have you drifting off in his comforting embrace.

“My stubborn Little Fox,” he uttered as he began to move back towards the bedroom which you shared, cradling you close to his body in hope that the heat which he emitted would soothe your aching joints, “you better feel well again soon, I’ll be waiting to deliver your punishment for disobeying me.”

You hum happily in response, nuzzling your face into his warm chest to hide your smirk of anticipation, “I’m looking forward to it, My Prince.”

It was only once you woke, when your fever had broken and the ache in your muscles had quelled, that you noticed that Eris was no longer holding you. That it was his turn to escape the comfortable confines of your sheets which had now grown cold in his absence.

Stepping out from the warmth of your covers, you walked barefoot across the cold wooden floors. Seeking the ever-lasting warmth of your mate. You followed the call, moving through the hall until you found yourself outside his office, the strong scent of crackling wood and chestnuts enough to tell you the male was waiting inside.

Cracking open the door you peered inside, noting the way Eris was slumped over the freshly inked papers you had saved to work on when your health had improved.

Your mate - your selfless, loving mate - had completed them all. No doubt seeking to ease your worries and provide you with the extra hours of rest you would no doubt need once you had woken.

Quietly pulling the door to, you move to the kitchen to prepare your love a warming tea. Because as much as Eris longed to take care of those he loved so dearly, sometimes what he needed was for someone to take care of him in return.

[lucimaaie]

dream girl ✧.* spiderwoman au

pairings - ellie williams x fem!reader

summary - the universe is determined to put you and ellie together, nevermind her fear.

warning - i wrote this in sept and was kind of watching good trouble at the time so that's why r has like backstory, random ass side characters, and stuff, I dunno what I was on when I wrote this so just run with it y'all, i made this long for no reason (shh 3k is a lot to me), it also occurred to me that im not good at slow burn so this aint that even if it is an attempt

also credit to @sister-lucifer for the dividers

You'd been missing from class a few times after Ellie saved you. She thought about visiting your house, but that was too creepy. Creepier than drawing you. Checking in with your dad was an option up until she realized they’d only recently formed a truce. Finally, she landed on a coffee.

The plan still had flaws: Ellie hated coffee herself and yet she knew your exact order from overhearing it. It was super-hearing’s fault not hers. She’d do it anyway, and add a cute drawing of you. It was normal, right?

Ellie bounced her knee as she watched you walk into class and slip into the front desk. Jesse sat next to her. Did she forget to erase her initials? She was supposed to do that.

“Talk to dream girl yet?”

“Shut it.” She opened her notebook. “And she’s not my dream girl.” She had dreamed of you once and Jesse wouldn’t let her forget about it.

“You don’t gotta lie to me.”

She didn’t have to look at him to imagine the grin on his face. “One day, when you least expect it. I swear.” She shook her head as she went back to watching you.

Ellie was like a deer in headlights when you looked back at her, holding up the coffee cup with a smile. “Thank you.” You mouthed.

She gave a nod, hoping her smile came off nonchalant. “Fuck.” She mumbled as you looked away. She did not erase her initials.

Ellie felt like a coward for not sticking around after class. Especially when it was in an attempt to avoid you. Dick move, but cut her some slack. She expected anonymity.

All this to say she wasn’t expecting a coffee cup on her desk the next day. Someone was about to be very disappointed, she thought as she sat down. She shrugged off Jesse's remark about her having a secret admirer. “Boo.” She whispered-yelled at him.

She cringed right before the liquid hit her tongue. She hissed at the burning sensation before preparing herself to take a second sip. It wasn’t coffee, it was some kind of tea. Sweet too. She sat back to look at the wrapper around the cup, which she could’ve done first thing and avoid the possibility of being roofied by a serial killer, but least she was now.

‘I didn’t know what you like but I know you never drink coffee. thank you for last week!’ There it was: Message and initials in that pretty handwriting she’d seen when she reluctantly asked to borrow notes. Ellie’s eyes flicked up to you, surprised to see you looking right back. She raised her brows, not knowing what to do as you smiled at her. Maybe smile back you idiot! She let a natural a smile as she could grace her face as she mouthed a thanks.

The absence of your eyes allowed her to revel in what just happened. That was until she could feel Jesse glaring at her. “Don’t even.” She mumbled into her hands. “But you saw that too?”

“It’s almost like I've been telling you she might, probably does, like you back.”

“She doesn’t. She’s just being nice.” Ellie took another sip. Her eyes lingered on the note as she pulled out her notebook. It wasn’t lost on her how obsessed she looked if you were to flip through her notes. Lucky for her, you never asked. “I'm not gonna read into it. At all.” Safer that way.

“Won’t have to if you make something happen for real this time.”

“Let’s talk about your love life for once.”

“Alive and well, thank you very much.”

“What? That’s all I get?” Ellie scoffed. “You stick your nose into mine all the time!”

“We’re not talking about me.” Jesse sat back in his chair with his arms crossed. She huffed, flipping to a new page as her eyes traveled from him to you. You were as oblivious to your effect on her as always.

Ellie had dozed off. She was nudged into consciousness by Jesse. As much as she wanted to grumble and go right back into dreamland, she could see how much she missed just by the sheer number of words on the board. Tiny, tiny words.

The words coming out of the professor's mouth were pure gibberish as her sleepy senses zeroed in on you. "Ow!" Another nudge from Jesse, telling her to pay attention to anything other than you for once.

It took all of three seconds for her to hear the two words she dreaded: Group project. What normal person would be excited to do a presentation over economics? The better question was what normal professor thought she wanted to do that, but she leaned forward as she listened for the pairs.

She froze as she heard her name and yours in the same sentence. As a pair, doing the project together.. Ellie swung her bag over her shoulder as she pretended to search for where you sat. She was careful not to bump into anything as she settled into the newly vacant spot next to you.

"Hi," You said in that kind voice she'd always managed to pick out above all other noise any time she heard it.

"Hey," Ellie dropped her backpack. "Ellie, back row." She inwardly cringed at the words left her mouth. She didn't need to introduce herself; You'd known her enough about her to get her a drink, which made her hope that meant you were looking at her as long as she'd been looking at you. Or not, in the event that she did something humiliating she didn’t remember.

"I know your name." you smiled. "Did you like it?” She glanced down at your hand pointing to the cup in her hand. "I didn't know what you like and not everyone likes coffee so.."

"Oh, yeah. I..don't usually drink tea, but you surprised me." She tapped her fingers against the cup as you rested your head in your hand, eyes attentive though she was saying nothing important. "How are you feeling? After the..thing a few days ago."

"You know about that? I’m okay, it was just a few bruises and soreness."

"Uh, I listen to a podcast. Better than the news, less boring. I'm..I'm glad you're okay." She tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced at the blank space of the table.

"So, after we pick a topic, I was thinking we could head to the library and keep working after class." Her eyes drifted back to you, taking in the way you shifted into a certain level of focus she lacked at the moment. That was something she always admired about you. "Unless, you have work or something more important."

"Oh, no! I'm free, not busy at all." Stop talking.

"Great!" You said with a friendly smile. "Wanna go?"

"Yeah, we can go."

Once you got to the library it had finally set in to Ellie that she had to behave with some degree of normalcy. It’d be embarrassing if she made it any more obvious how much a crush she had  you. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask you about your number.” You picked up your phone and went to the contacts, pressing new contact. “Just in case you or I can’t make it, stuff like that.” Ellie’s hand was gentle in taking your phone and typing in her number, afraid the sweat on her hands would blur the text on the screen. 

“I should be able to make it.” She said, needing something to do besides nod at your every word like an idiot.  

“Great.” You flashed her another friendly smile. 

Time had gone by relatively slow. Few words were exchanged as you worked on a shared template, putting in information neither of you cared for. Eventually, your computers were pushed aside in boredom.  

“I can’t read any more about supply and demand or my brain’s gonna implode.” Ellie rubbed her eyes. She was starting to wish she enjoyed coffee so she could reap the benefits.  

“Thank god, I’m not the only one.” You shut your computer abruptly with force. Ellie did the same with care not to destroy the thing. “I hate this class and the professor. He doesn’t teach, like, at all and then expects twenty slide presentations.” You rambled, dropping the sweetness she had come to know you for. Ellie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry, it’s..the caffeine or something.” 

“I’ll bet. Your go-to has a million pumps of caramel syrup in it coupled with an extra shot, just so you can still taste the coffee.” Tiredness had wore down Ellie’s usual anxiety. She hadn’t even noticed she teased you until your face morphed into shock at being called out. 

“I didn’t know you noticed that, but then again you were so nice to save me six dollars.”  

“Outrageous price, by the way.” 

“That tea you liked so much this morning was the same price so,” 

“Welp,” Ellie threw her hands up. You both shared a laugh.  

“Let’s get out of here.” You said suddenly, crossing your arms just to lean forward. “I can’t stand the quiet anymore or this pointless project.” Ellie knew what you meant but that didn’t stop her mind from going to different places.

Stop it, you idiot!  “Agreed”  

Ellie had managed to pull her weight despite inwardly panicking around you. It didn’t help when you looked at her the way you did.

The workload was getting lighter and left more time for you to get off topic and talk about anything that came to your minds. Ellie couldn't pinpoint the moment she'd transition from not believing you were talking to her to not wanting to stop. Probably somewhere around the you exchanged numbers for the sake of project neither of you were worried much about.

She was satisfied, or rather she'd tried to convince herself she was, with just texting back and forth as friends. She decided she'd shove her feelings deep down, eliminating the worry of ruining your newfound friendship or putting you in danger. Ellie was okay as the friend, as long as she was close to you.

Ellie leaned against the rough brick wall of your apartment building a she waited for you come out. The soft material on the inside of her jacket gave her enough of a distraction until she heard the screech of the door. “Hey,” A smiled immediately appeared on her face as she took in how you drowned in your adorably festive sweater.

“Okay, before you come in, I wanna let you know my friends are weird. They don’t know boundaries but I promise they're really nice—“

“You were serious about the communal living thing?”

“Ellie!”

“I’m just asking!”

“C’mon, you.” Ellie’s heart jumped as you shamelessly laced your fingers with hers, dragged her along into the rustic building. Her wandering eyes were something like a kid in toy store, instead of an overly decorated lobby. The decorations were gaudy but homey, nonetheless.

She became self-conscious that her hands were becoming clammy as you continued to hold her hand, squeezing it every once in a while. “Just remember, they’re trying their best to be normal.”

“And..what’s not normal?”

“Jan bringing in random rescues, V keeping us up because she’s ‘running her lines’, Jade never leaving her room except to tell us our rent is due, and Winn never not having a friend over, but he's having a midlife crisis so." You shrugged. "Pretty normal stuff.”

“And you all share a bathroom..and stuff?”

“It’s the best I could get.” You said sheepishly as the elevator opened. She could immediately see what you were talking about the moment you started to struggle with the stubborn elevator gate. Her hand was soft in grabbing your wrist. "I got it."

“You clearly haven’t seen my shitbox I call an apartment. This is fine.” She remarked as she opened the rusted gates without much effort. Her eyes landed on even more Christmas decorations.

“If you’ll let me work my magic, it won’t be a shitbox.” You looped your arm around hers.

“You will never look at me the same. I'm serious. It's a disaster. A dumpster fire, really." It became easier to put down the worth of her apartment as she saw how filled out your building was just from the hallway. Even the scattered belongings had a way of telling anyone who came in that everyone who lived there was proud to. She couldn't lie, the closer you got to the dining room, that too you shared of course, she was sweating bullets. That's what it felt like at least.

"I can handle a dumpster fire."

Ellie's head turned back to you, eyes softening at the sincerely at your words. You were not making this any easier on her. She could wait out a crush. If she hadn't known you these past few weeks, she would've forced herself to get over it, but that hadn't been the case. "Hey, before we go in, i wanna thank you for all..this. You didn't have to invite me."

"I wanted to." You said simply.

"Why?"

"I don't know. No one should have to spend the holidays alone. Definitely not you, especially you." You poked her shoulder.

"What's so special about me?" She mumbled. That was not supposed to come out.

"That a serious question?" It didn't make sense in her mind, your interest in her. Shad no time to formulate a response when a short blonde girl came in with a bowl in her hand and muffled words coming out of her mouth. "Guess that's our cue." You smiled, tugging on her hand.

"Why the hell are you eating straight cranberry sauce?" Your words were fuzzy to Ellie as you took the bowl from the girl's hand. She was too in her mind to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

She was hugged by a few people, all of which had nothing in common but living in the same building. Sat down by an older man she could only assume was Winn and fed until she felt her stomach could pop. Given a lecture on method acting from jade.

There was a point where she ran into being questioned by a few of them. The quippy, confident version of her was nowhere to be seen then and replaced with a stammering, blanking mess. Fortunately, you covered for her.

Ellie stared at the city with a full belly, leaning back on the less than stable lawn chairs on the side of the rooftop pool. The heated debates behind her served as background noise to the glimmering light and commotion New York provided. She took a sip of her beer. Her head turned towards you in the doorframe.

"Overwhelmed yet?"

"I wouldn't say that." She said with feigned coyness, sitting up to see you better.

"I wouldn't be mad. Or blame you."

" They do have a weird sense of...hospitality?"

"Hospitality is a word." You smiled, amused as you looked up at nowhere at all.

"At least that's the word I landed on." She shrugged.

"Well, you obviously haven't even used the bathrooms yet." You looked down at her with that smile she loved seeing. You took a seat on the chair next to her.

"Why do you think I’ve been sipping everything?" Ellie’s eyes never left you as you laughed in unison. She could've swore your smile melted into something shy. You never seemed shy at all. Or you were damn good at hiding it.

"Hey." Ellie hummed in response. "I’ve got something for you."

Her brows raised as you brought out a little blue box from behind you. The ribbon was crooked but tied by you, she could tell. "You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to. I promise I don't do anything I don't want to. Now, take it. Please? For me." You held up the tiny box like a offering in your hands. Her eyes moved from your face to the small box.

"Alright, fine. You don't have to beg." She inspected the cute little ribbon before carefully undoing it.

"Damn near,"

"Oh shut it." She glared up at you as she took the top off the box. As she looked down, the attitude slipped off her face. It was a camera as tiny as the box decorated with little savage starlight stickers.

“It’s not much, but I know you’re artsy and I figured maybe photography would be a nice hobby.” You scooted to the edge of your chair. “Also, it might be nice to have pictures of our first date.”

Her head snapped up to look at you, biting your lip in anticipation. “You’re asking me on a date?”

“Only if you want to.”

“I do want to.”

“You do?”

“I’ve wanted to for a while. i didn’t think you noticed.” Ellie flipped the camera in her hands, running her fingers along the mini stickers of the superhero. She wanted so badly to be on that date right now, taking pictures of everything so the memory would always be fresh in her mind.

“How long’s a while?” Your voice was quiet against the howling of the cold air, but in a way it felt intimate how close and quiet you were. There was gleam in your eyes from the fairy lights surrounding the patio area.

“If I answer that, will you still wanna go on a date with me?" Her eyes were almost pleading as she looked back up at you.

"I asked." You leaned even closer, allowing Ellie’s eyes roamed your face under the dim light. When she realized she was caught staring, she averted her eyes as she pressed her lips into a barely contained smile.

The moment was once again interrupted by jade. The girl stood with an empty pot, asking you where it would go. Your shoulders slumped a degree before you went into the kitchen with the young girl. "You could've asked Winn, hun.”

Ellie took that as her cue to get going. She took a sip of the now warm beer and grabbed her gloves. Her eyes were glued to you as always as she made her way to the elevator.

Knowing you wouldn't let her leave without a goodbye, she leaned against the gate for no more than a minute. As expected, you came around the corner with a smile and a few plates in your hand. Her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes landed on the stack of foiled plates. "You’re making me feel bad, y'know that?" She leaned her head on yours as you wrapped your arms around her.

"You can make it up to me on..saturday."

"Saturday?"

"That’s the day."

Ellie’s eyes widened, realizing you were serious. Some part of her thought you’d forget all about it a few days later and she’d look like the desperate one bringing it up. leave it to you to prove her assumptions wrong. "Got it." She was still dazed as you leaned up to kiss her cheek and close the gate for her. Her biting her lip couldn’t stop her from cheesing as the events of the night finally set in. She was doomed.

thank you for reading!

[witchywithwhiskey]

the princess and the villain

pairing: choose your own soft!dark male character x female reader

summary: you're the daughter of a powerful mob boss, and someone's been hired to take you away. but after one look at your face, the man starts getting ideas about keeping you for himself.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), dark themes, abduction, drugging, dirty thoughts and fantasies (including nonconsensual somnophilia), sadism, dacryphilia, a dangerously delusional man

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i wrote this prologue-y thing back in early spring for a specific character, but while i liked this part, i didn't like anything about how the story progressed after it and i ended up abandoning the fic. but i still really liked this part and i thought it'd be a fun entry in @bucks-and-noble's Choose Your Babe challenge!! so, after you read, please tell me who you think is the villain to our princess 😈

For you, it was a night like any other. 

You’d gone through your normal evening routine, padding softly around your penthouse apartment before slipping between the satin sheets of your queen-sized bed. 

You’d drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling safe in the knowledge that your security system was set, there was an armed doorman in the lobby of your building, and your father’s men were only a phone call away.

For him, it was the night everything changed.

Of course, everything would change for you, too. You just didn’t know it yet.

You were blissfully unaware of everything that had been put in motion that led to the events of that night. You slept soundly as a man you’d never met before—one wearing a dark suit, dark gloves and a dark look in his eye—stalked silently into your bedroom. He adjusted the black leather gloves he wore, a silver gun gripped in one steady hand as he came to stand over you. 

You looked like a princess.

It was the first thing that struck the man, how much you looked like a sleeping princess from the fairytales he’d read as a boy. So peaceful and pretty and perfect. 

But the man wasn’t a knight or a prince. Sure, he’d had noble aspirations when he’d been young, wanting to slay dragons and rescue princesses like you. But that’s not how his life turned out.

Instead, he’d become the villain. He was the assassin who had killed your father’s men assigned to protect you, then slit the throat of the doorman in your lobby before disarming your security system and letting himself into your defenseless apartment. 

He was the mercenary hired by your mafia boss father’s rival to abduct you and hold you hostage while the old men squabbled over power and money.

As the man stared down at your face, his eyes tracing the curve of your cheek and the dip of your mouth, the thought occurred to him that he would pay anything to get you back if you’d been taken from him. He’d burn the whole world down to find you if someone managed to take you from him. Not that he’d ever let you out of his sight if you were his…

But then he reminded himself that you weren’t his, you were a job, and his thoughts soured. It was more difficult than he would’ve liked to admit to get back to work, his movements lacking their normal meticulousness as he shoved his gun into its holster beneath his arm. 

He pulled a cloth and a small bottle of chloroform from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He didn’t normally need to watch what he was doing, but he did then, making extra certain he didn’t pour too much of the sedative onto the cloth before stowing the bottle away again.

Normally, the man was a professional. He could press the cloth so gently over someone’s mouth and nose while they slept that they’d never even know they were being drugged. They’d just slip peacefully from sleeping into unconsciousness, without any of the fear or struggle that came with waking up to realize they were being drugged by a stranger.

But the man’s mask of calm had slipped the moment he’d laid eyes on your beauty, and he could feel the darkness in the very depths of his soul stirring within him. It was seething and starving, testing the limits of his self-control, making him feel on edge. He wanted. He wanted you.

The man could picture his hand roughly covering your mouth and nose with the chloroform cloth, your eyes flying open and staring up at him. He could imagine the way they’d widen with horror, then fill with tears that slipped down your temples and into your hair. He could almost hear your soft cry of distress and your whimper of terror as you comprehended your fate.

As he fantasized about your fear, the man’s cock hardened in his pants, thickening at the thought of your pretty eyes staring up at him like the villain he was. A menacing grin slowly curled the corners of his mouth and the dark look in his eye turned positively wicked.

Then he was moving, forgoing his normal precision and letting the darkness within him take hold as he slammed the chloroform cloth over your pretty mouth and pert nose, the tips of his leather-clad fingers digging into your soft cheeks hard enough to make you scream in surprise.

When your eyes flew open, the man couldn’t help but marvel at their beauty, leaning forward to loom over your body to get a better look. The moonlight shone across your face, limning your features in ethereal silver light, making you look like an angel. You were even more beautiful when you were looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world. 

The mercenary had thought your immediate reaction would be fear, but he was wrong. He hadn’t anticipated the way your brows would furrow in confusion, sweet little lines forming between them as you stared up at him, more bewildered than terrified by his presence.

But then—then it happened. Confusion gave way to horror, your chest heaving as you breathed in panicked gasps, only succeeding in inhaling more of the drug and dooming yourself. You whimpered so sweetly it sounded like music to the man’s ears, and your eyes filled with tears. The man watched, his mouth curving into a greedy, predatory smile. 

He held your terrified gaze, using one hand to brace the back of your head so you couldn’t escape the cloth that covered your mouth and nose and you continued to breathe in the sedative. His cock ached in his pants, the full length of him pressing against the tight confines as he throbbed with arousal, his balls filling with come that he furiously wanted to spill across your face. Or bury deep in one of your warm holes… 

His attention was forced back to the present when your body jerked with dawning realization of what was happening to you. You reached for the dangerous stranger looming over you, your fingertips falling just shy of brushing against his bulge. The man’s cock twitched, as if reaching for you in return, and he had to stop himself from thrusting to meet your touch. 

Thankfully for him, the chloroform was doing its job, and your hands dropped futilely as your eyes began to close. Your arms fell listlessly to the bed and the man watched you succumb to the sedative he’d used to drug you.

When he was certain you were unconscious, he pulled the cloth away and stowed it back in his jacket pocket, ensuring he didn’t leave any trace of his presence in your apartment. That was the job, he tried to remind himself, but the darkness within him was louder, and his movements were all too eager as he pulled the blankets of your bed back, baring your body to his hungry gaze.

He felt his cock throb in excitement as he stared down at you, your body clad in nothing but a skimpy little nightgown, the fabric so thin he could see the shape of your nipples poking through. His eyes roved greedily over your curves, lingering for a long moment on the way the bottom hem of your nightdress was rucked up around your hips, almost giving him a glimpse of your precious cunt nestled between your thighs.

The man wanted desperately to know if you’d gone to bed without panties, but he knew he had to ignore the creeping darkness that had slithered into his mind. Not because it would be a gross invasion of privacy to take a peek at your panties while you were unconscious, but because he knew that if he pushed your nightdress up any further, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from sinking his cock into your tight cunt while you were still out cold.

He’d never fucked a princess, and fucking you—even if it was while you were unconscious—might be the closest he ever got. You were a sleeping beauty and he was no prince charming, no honorable knight. He was the villain, and he wanted to ravage you, whether you were awake or not. 

In that moment, he couldn’t decide which would be better. Fucking you while you were soft and pliant with sleep, your body taking his cock into your tight warm hole while you mumbled incoherently against his shoulder. Or fucking you when you were awake, so he could see your pretty eyes fill with tears again, hear the desperate sounds you made while he filled you with his cock…

The leather of the man’s gloves creaked in the silence of your bedroom as he curled his hands into fists and beat back the darkness that had slipped into his head. He was a professional. He’d been hired to do a job, and you were that job. 

You weren’t his princess to steal away from the king’s tower. He needed to remember that.

The mercenary adjusted his cock in his pants, working hard to reclaim the control that had fled the moment he’d laid eyes on you. He forced his limbs to move precisely as he gathered you up into his arms, ignoring his body’s responses when he smelled the sweet scent of you settle around him, and when he felt your soft breath exhale against his neck. 

A car was waiting in the parking garage beneath the building, ready for the man to take you far away from your home and the city where your father held enough power to be considered a king. He encountered no obstacles as he carried you down to the garage and buckled you into the passenger seat of the car.

As the man drove away, he couldn’t help but feel like the villain stealing the princess from the king’s tower, and it gave him a perverse sense of satisfaction. He may not have been a prince or a knight, but he had taken the princess. And he began to think that maybe he should keep you for himself. 

Perhaps the man could write his own kind of twisted fairytale, one where the villain got to keep the princess. 

Looking over at you, your features soft in sleep and no less beautiful than when he’d first laid eyes on you, the man made his decision. He’d have his happily ever after at any cost—which meant he’d have to convince you that he was your fairytale come to life, just as you were his.

so who's the babe!? tell me in the comments, reblogs or in my askbox!

[impactedfates]

Hi hi I'm feeling so cruel right now >:]

So uuuh HCs for DH[IL], Jingyuan, Blade and Welt reacts how does their child [reader] dies... Like imagine how reader dies is like how the Genshin Playable characters die [they dusted away]

Please feed me a n gst

—🫶🏻 Anon

★ A/N: The way the reader dies reminds me of how one of my ocs species dies lmao. Hopefully this is up your ally :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial + Angst

★ Format: Bullet Pointed HeadCannons (It kinda turned into a mini story I think-)

☆ Warnings: Mentions of Death (Readers)

★ Extra: Adopted reader in all // Reader is under 12 for Dan Fengs, and in their teens for the rest // Giving Jing Yuan more of a sad life/hj // Wrote this in WellBeing class lmao // Characters may be OOC

Dan Feng as a High Elder doesn’t always have the time to really see you. Sure when he first adopted you he did spend a good chunk of his time with you but eventually his duties caught up.

He appointed someone to look after you. Someone that you knew and that he knew. Someone trustworthy.

So when he came back to his home early one day, the house dead silent. He grew worried. He called out to the person, to you. But there was no response.

He walked to your room, perhaps the both of you fell asleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But all he could witness was dust covering your room. And the man no where to be seen.

He knew instantly where that dust came from, he was quick to search for him. Found him hiding thinking he could get away, unaware that Dan Feng would be home early, unaware Dan Feng would catch him.

The man he had trusted to protect you, was the same man who ended the life you should’ve continued to have.

Dan Feng was quick to throw the man in the Shackling Prison, praying to whatever Aeon that can hear him that he gets what he deserves.

He collected as much of the dust that was still in his house, the last thing that he had of you. And carefully placed them in a jar.

Many question the High Elder why he holds a jar of dust so dearly to him, and all those times he refuses to answer. Not wanting to break down in front of the other Vidyadharas.

It was only a mission, a mission he sent you and Yanqing on. He had thought there were only a few Mara struck soldiers that had to be defeated.

He had wondered why Yanqing slowly entered the Seat of Divine Foresight without you. He had wondered why Yanqing was breathing rapidly and on the verge of tears.

Jing Yuan comforted Yanqing before asking about your whereabouts. Perhaps you were getting snacks after a successful mission? Yanqing could only try to explain in a shaky voice, clearly startled and upset.

But why would he be upset? You were his adopted sibling and was usually so kind to him. You wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him?

Yanqing tried his best to explain, stuttering over his words and needing to take a few deep breaths, the General listened carefully.

…Ambush? Well…Jing Yuan supposed he made an error in that. He only thought there were a few. Wow, if you and Yanqing didn’t know about that then you could’ve been caught off guard and…

Oh!

Oh…

Jing Yuan quickly connected the dots, he slowly held Yanqing closer, witnessing his own sibling fall to the hands of the Mara struck then be faced with dealing with the remaining enemies…he couldn’t imagine the stress.

A ceremony was held in your honour. Your dust already gone away like the wind so your memories will follow as he sends multiple starsciff at with gifts.

But he’ll always remember, he’ll remember the regret he felt that he couldn’t do anything nor could he have seen that an ambush would occur.

He wished he could’ve done something.

Are you dumb or something??

Blade could’ve taken that hit. Why’d you have to take it!?

He would’ve been fine. He wouldn’t been okay, a relief would’ve washed over him even though he knew he’d survive.

So then why did you have to take the hit that was meant for him, and leave him in a state of rage?

He quickly disposed of the pests that caused your demise, before trying to check on you. But all he could do was watch as your body dusts away.

He tried his best to grab any dust he could but most went with the wind. All he could do was stand there questioning why you would do that.

He said he’d protect you. Everyone else in the Stellaron Hunters were busy so he had to take you with him when he did his part. Yet it ended with you gone.

There was a small ceremony for your disappearance from the earth. Elio as much as he may not want too, he continued sending people on missions however allowed Blade to opt out of them he could properly mourn.

Blade still wonders why you decided to save him when he would’ve been fine, he wonders if he’d be able to save you if he noticed the enemy creepy behind him.

It was just a small argument. Welt felt bad but allowed you to storm off. You’d return eventually anyways. You’d return once dinner was ready back at the express, you knew what time that was.

But you never did return did you? Welt had thought long and hard and was ready to apologise for his words yet you weren’t back yet? Did you get dinner then go to your room?

He went to check, your room was the exact same you left it.

Did…anyone see you come back? He questioned the members of the express. None have seen you.

Finally he grabbed his coat and cane and went to look for you. Went in the direction you went and searched. As he walked his foot stepped in something. Looking down confused, his eyes widened.

Golden Dust. Dust that he knew belonged to you. Dust that told him you were gone.

And he wasn’t able to tell you he was sorry.

Welt is silent as he walks back, he let the wind take your dust elsewhere. A place he hopes you’d be happy in.

He was quiet but able to tell the express what happened. Each of them holding a small funeral for you. They kept your room intact, filled with things you loved before locking it. That room will no longer be filled with warmth but will soon grow cold.

Welt drew a picture of you, keeping it safe with him. And despite how it may seem that eventually he was over your death. He could never be.

Not until he was able to apologise for the argument.

But that won’t happen anytime soon now will it?

This was actually rlly fun to write!! Especially in well-being haha. This was meant to be posted yesterday but something came up so here it is now haha.

Might've missed some warnings, so as always. Please inform me if I did.

[cottonlemonade]

Plan B

word count: 1015 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, pining

warnings: none

synopsis: he is trying to convince you to go out with him

The café was in its typical morning lull when you came in. After the coffee rush of the business crowd and students on their way to class there were now only a few people seated comfortably around the small round tables, chatting idly and enjoying a piece of quiet in the hustle of a new Monday. This was your favorite time of the day. The early spring sun was shining happily through the large front windows, making the dark wooden walls appear as if dipped in honey. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the soothing scent of cookies, all amidst the faint sound of traffic humming underneath the soft clanking of spoons gave you a deep sense of calm.

After the daily round of hellos and how-are-yous, you put on your black apron and got to work in the kitchen, starting on the preparations for lunch.

“Manager?”, an hour later as you just put the finishing touches on a batch of orange drizzle muffins, one of your baristas poked his head through the door and gave you a look. You sighed and joined him in the front by the cash register. Sure enough the tall man waited for you, a wide grin across his handsome face.

“No.”, you told him before he even got the chance to say anything.

“And good morning to you, too.”

“No.”, you said again, beginning to prepare his usual order of simple green tea.

“Just one cup of coffee, we don’t even have to leave the premises.”

“400 yen, please.”

He counted out a small stack of coins on the counter and crossed his arms.

“Where is your cheer squad today?”, you asked, referring to his usual companions of a broad guy with spiky gray hair and a smaller one whose smile rivaled the sun in brightness. Needlessly supervising the last drops of hot water in the to-go cup, you made sure to add the exact amount of tea leaves to a little bag, just so you didn't have to look at him and his ridiculously confident smirk.

“Eh, I think they got tired of you rejecting me.”

“Interesting, any chance that’ll happen to you, too?”

“Sure, I’ll stop”, he slid over to where you were finishing up his order and lowered his voice, “when you stop blushing whenever I ask you out.”

He accepted his order with a wink. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

When the door closed behind him, you found your barista leaning against a counter with a cocked eyebrow.

“That makes seven!”, he announced, pointing to a small blackboard on the back wall where you usually wrote down the groceries needed that week. In the lower left hand corner he and the rest of the staff had begun to keep a tally of how often the guy had asked you out so far.

Seven times in three weeks. You smiled against your better judgment. You knew not to take him too seriously. Knew it was just a game to him. When he came in for the first time you had almost dropped a mug, because how could someone look this casually seductive?!

It wasn’t that you didn’t have the urge to say Yes just for the hell of it. But you weren't in the mood to be a short-lived plaything for a guy who probably only thought chubbies were easy. And thus began a regular routine of rejecting him. You didn’t know whether you actually wanted him to stop or if saying No to him had just become a reflex. A wise one probably.

Kuroo groaned and gently hit his head against his desk. Of course the thought that he might be an actual creep for asking you out so much had occurred to him but when he made his initial attempt, you had said Yes at first before immediately changing your answer to No. How on earth could he prove to you that he wasn‘t kidding when he told you that you were on his mind all day? Your smile, your voice, your exceptionally squishable body all brought new amounts of cute-aggression into his life.

At this point he was running out of options. Maybe… maybe he should just wait until you approached him instead - if you ever would, that was. He needed a new idea.

And so, one misguided day, he listened in on the gossip of his coworkers who talked about what mundane things they found attractive in a guy. And that’s how we got here:

Kuroo sat at a large four seater table in the corner of your café. Papers were strewn about, magazines lay open for references. He had loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt; his reading glasses were pushed back onto his nose in regular intervals. It was warmer today. So warm that he had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, wristwatch glinting in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He gave a little frown and absentmindedly bit his bottom lip as he consulted one of the articles, sometimes silently mouthing along to paragraphs he read, twirling the pen in his long fingers. He lifted a page to read the next, making a note on a separate sheet, the muscles in his forearm taut while he wrote.

He looked up at nowhere in particular, then closed his eyes and stretched his tired neck, the open shirt tightening around his broad shoulders, the line of his jaw highlighted by the golden light beaming through the large windows…

"Sir.", a waitress stepped professionally to the table, a towel neatly tucked in the waist cord of her apron, hands politely folded in front of her stomach.

"Yes?"

"The manager isn’t here today."

His cheeks started to burn, "Why- I mean… what?"

"And while we do appreciate what you do for the ambiance", a subtle gesture pointed out the girls, women and the barista staring, some even holding up their phone camera, giggling behind their hands, "this isn’t a library, so please order something or free the table."

"…O-of course."

[part 2]

[bitemybutt]

Desperate

Law x Reader NSFW!

Y'all, I wrote this at work, in between work, and in bed all on my phone so it is NOT proofread. But I just had to get this out of my head. Also this is pure smut, so no plot really. Hope yall enjoy!! Let me know what you think! MDNI!

WARNINGS: Female reader, dominate Law, female and male receiving oral, mentions of masterbation, saliva, vaginal penatration, fingering, light choking, hand necklace, aftercare, cuddling, SMUT, PURE FILTHY SMUT

Law had been desperate for a few things in his life, but a woman in any sort of romantic capacity was not one of them.

He may have enjoyed the touch of a woman every now and then...but he was never desperate for it.

That was, until you came along.

He wasn't sure when his need for you began, but it was slow, building over the two years you had been with the crew. He tried dismissing it, but soon his quick glances turned into lingering gazes, and innocent thoughts became blurred with visions of you bare before him.

Law knew that if he got his hands on you now, he would ruin you, and he would enjoy every last minute of it.

And that's where he found himself tonight: sat at his desk mind wandering to you. His paperwork was nearly finished and yet he couldn't focus anymore. You were always there, in the front of his mind. Law closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his chair. Your image was burned into his eyelids. And the thoughts came rushing in. He imagined what your nails would feel like digging into his skin, and what you would look like with disheveled hair and blown pupils, tears staining those pretty little cheeks as you beg to be fucked again.

Goddammit, he was losing his mind.

He wanted you...needed you, and yet he hadn't made any indication of such for fear of scaring you away.

He needed release and he found himself reaching for the button of his suddenly tight jeans. It would have to do, and had for some time now. Law nearly had himself free when a knock came at his door.

He gritted his teeth and redid the button and zipper. Who was coming to his door at this hour? He made his way to the door and opened it.

"What is it?" he grumbled before looking down. And then his eyes met yours. His breath nearly hitched at the sight before him. There you stood, hair tumbling around your face and cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment.

His eyes trailed down and saw that you were only wearing an oversized t-shirt, accentuating your plush thighs.

"Captain, I'm really sorry to bother you. I know it's late but I...I can't sleep. I've tried everything but my mind won't quiet. Do you have any medicine I could take? Or a tea? Anything really so long as I can sleep."

Law considered for a moment and opened the door more. He certainly could think of some ways to help you sleep...

"Come in," he gestured into the room.

As you slipped inside Law made his way to a bookshelf in the corner of his room where he kept specific medicines for sleep.

"Is this a normal occurance, y/n-ya?"

You didn't want to admit it, but it had been and you knew exactly what...or rather who the problem was. He was standing in the room with you.

"Yes. But tonight has been unbearable. I--" you stopped for a moment to consider your next words, "I feel like I'm losing it, Law..."

He stopped at the sound of his name spilling from your lips. You never called him that and he was in part glad for it, because he knew it would only add fuel to his burning desire for you. How many times had he imagined what his name would sound like as you cried it out?

When he turned around he saw you leaning against his closed door, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. When had the door shut? The room suddenly felt too small. Too hot. Focus Law, he told himself as he made his way back to you with two pills in hand. He held his hand out and dropped them into you open palm.

"Take these with a glass of water and you should fall asleep within thirty minutes." He tried sounding professional to cover for the fact that his heart was beginning to beat wildly in his chest.

You should have said "thank you" and left, but instead the words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them, "Law...do you...have you ever had thoughts about someone that has...kept you up at night?" Your cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink and in that moment he knew exactly what you meant.

"What exactly is this about, y/n?" He played dumb but found himself stepping closer to you.

You looked up at him, forcing yourself to face the man that had been causing you so many sleepless nights. So many nights of feeling the warm slickness pool between your thighs. But then you lost your courage only to mumble, "it's stupid, nevermind."

But Law wasn't having it. He was moving closer still and you could feel your cheeks begin to burn hotter. "Law...?"

"Who's been keeping you so bothered?" his voice came out low and husky. He had tunnel vision. You were all he could see now and he was losing himself to you.

He placed a tattooed hand on the door beside your head and gazed down into those big doe eyes.

Your breath caught and you could feel heat beginning to build in your lower stomach. He was so close. So close now that if you leaned in you could kiss him. But instead, he moved in so that his lips were by your ear. "Who?" he whispered, and you inhaled sharply at the sensation that rolled through your body, the pills in your hand falling to the floor.

"You..." you choked out and now your whole body felt flush with embarrassment. But it was short lived because Law's lips were now on yours and his body moved to press you fully against the door.

He had finally snapped the moment it left your lips and without truly thinking, for once in his life, he acted on instinct. His lips moved against yours, soft but hungry and when he felt you reciprocate he ran his tongue along your bottom lip so that you would part for him. His tongue dancing with yours sent a heat through your core and your knees felt weak. The hand that had been on the door moved to cup your face and his other hand moved to your waist feeling the curve of your hip. His hand made its way down to the hem of your shirt where he then slipped under and gripped at your bare skin.

You were melting in his hands and you could feel your head begin to swim, your arousal apparent by the wetness you felt growing between your legs. You pulled away and looked up at him seeing nothing but hunger in his eyes. Oh, he would be your undoing. You would give him anything he asked of you. It took him no time to press his lips against the sensitive part of your neck and he trailed his tongue up to your ear.

"The things I want to do to you, y/n-ya."

A small moan escaped your lips and the heavenly sound was met with a low growl.

Your legs felt like jello. You were sure you soaked through your panties at this point.

"Then do them..." you were breathless as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. And then you were being picked up, your legs wrapping around his waist so naturally as if you had done this a million times. He moved you to his bed and laid you down, your shirt riding up exposing your stomach.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked as he hovered just above you. His hand was on your stomach and sliding further up until he reached your breast. His fingers moved to your stiff nipple where he gently pinched at it.

"Y-yes, Law..." you moaned softly.

He was so hard he could barely stand it. His cock was going to look so good shoved in that pretty mouth.

He moved to slide your shirt over your head and when he looked down at your bare chest he felt his cock twitch. Perfect peaks met him and he moved to grasp them, but then he felt your hands grasping at the buttons on his shirt. He let you work through them and when you got it off, you slid your hands over his tattooed chest.

You admired how beautiful his tattoos were and traced them for a moment. But then he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head. His head dipped down to one of your breasts and he took your nipple in his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue over it. You arched your back and a louder moan escaped your lips.

Law was starting to come undone with each moan that met his ears. He needed more. He needed to see that perfect pussy. He leaned back, releasing your hands and wasted no time in finding the elastic of your panties. He ran his finger teasingly along the band and watched you squirm.

"Tell me what you thought about when you touched yourself at night, y/n-ya"

Again your cheeks warmed and you looked to the side. Had he really known you played with yourself almost every night or was it a lucky guess?

"You, Law..."

His free hand grabbed your chin gently making you look at him.

"What exactly about me?" He wanted to hear the dirty details about your need for him. He pulled your panties down a little, trailing a finger further inside.

You supposed now was not the time to be shy, though it took you a few seconds to get it out.

"...Your hands...roaming my body, touching every inch of me. I-I thought about you slipping those pretty tattooed fingers inside of me." You felt your panties begin to slide down your thighs.

"And? I know there's more." Law was going to draw this out for as long as he could. His fantasies were coming to life before him.

"And your cock...filling me up. Pounding into me until I cant take anymore." The words coming from your mouth was pure exstasy to him. Your panties were now off and Law admired you for a moment before running a finger just above your folds.

"And do you think you deserve it?" he teased you as you moved your hips hoping his finger would slide further down. You were dripping onto his bedsheets.

One breathy "yes" from you and he ran two fingers along your slit and then inserted them into your warm and waiting cunt.

"Ah!" your eyes snapped shut and you arched into him. Was this really happening? You laying beneath Law, his fingers deep inside of you? He started slow, methodically pumping his fingers in and out but then he picked up speed and you let out a small gasp. Goddamn you were beautiful.

You grasped at the bedsheets and you tilted your head back when you felt him hit your sweet spot.

"L-law! Just like that" you cried out as he continued to hit it. If he kept going you were going to explode and cum all over his hand. Almost there.

But just before you could climax he abruptly pulled out his fingers and smirked. You collapsed and whined, your body shivering from the crash.

"Oh no, not yet," he purred as he put his soaked fingers up to your mouth. You opened obediently and he shoved them in, slickness met with saliva. Your lips closed around his fingers and you suckled at your own juices.

"Good girl," he crooned as he shoved them just a but further into your mouth causing you to drool. You made small whimpering noises and he pulled his fingers out. "Show me how you played with yourself," his mouth upturned into a wicked smile.

"Just like this..." your fingers moved to touch your clit, rubbing small circles and you let out a small moan as your other hand played with your nipples. He watched intently as he moved off of you and began working on getting his jeans off. He pulled them off with his briefs in one motion and your breath caught at the sight of his cock springing free.

Your mouth watered, and you stopped touching yourself to sit up. You needed him in your mouth now. You reached a hand out to grab it and ran it along the length of him admiring the softness of it. He let out a hiss at the touch and grabbed your chin and pulled your face forward. The tip of his cock coaxed your lips open and then your mouth. You flicked your tongue out and licked at the precum pooling at the tip and then put him in slowly, meeting his eyes.

Law stared into those big beautiful eyes full of lust and then in one motion shoved himself into your mouth. The size of him made you choke and he let out a moan at the sound. His moaning was music to you and encouraged you to begin bobbing and sucking at him. Your head moved slowly at first but the more you sucked the faster you got wanting to mouth fuck him until he came down your throat.

Law tilted his head back moving his hand from your chin and grabbing the hair at the back of your head. He pulled on it using it as leverage to shove himself into you.

"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he teased, your chin glistening with drool. You answered by sucking harder, and he groaned. If you kept this up he was going to cum. You grew more fervent as he pulled your head back and pushed you back onto him. Your little noises were sending him to the edge.

"Mmm, you want me to cum in that naughty little mouth of yours?" his voice came out slightly shaky and you could tell he was going to bust.

"Mhmm," you nodded, your sucking becoming sloppy. He was covered in your spit the sight of which made you even wetter.

But then he pulled out of your mouth and let out a heavy sigh. Oh he was playing with you. You groaned and grabbed at him again, but he pushed you back onto your back his fingers back in your pussy, pumping hard and fast. You grabbed at his arms, your nails digging in. You were already close just from sucking him off, so it didn't take much to build to your climax.

You felt yourself peaking as your hips moves erratically against his hand.

"That's it, y/n-ya, cum for me" he whispered, hooking the tips of his fingers inside you and wiggling them back and forth. It was your undoing as your walls constricted and you cried out.

"Ahhh, Law! Yes, ah yes!"

The aftershock went through your entire body but he wasn't pulling out. Instead, he began wiggling his fingers again and dipped his head down, his tongue meeting your clit.

"Oh I'm not done with you," he said in between licks. Your legs began to shake and you grasped at his hair as he built you back up. Your clit was so sensitive now that each lick and suckle made you jolt and coupled with his fingers you felt yourself peaking again.

"Oh fuck!" You were almost there.

One more suckle against your clit and you were crashing around him again. Your fingers grasped his hair harder as you rode out your climax.

"That's my good girl," he said against your soaked cunt. When he pulled his fingers out he ran his tongue in between his fingers, cleaning up the grool and cum that covered them. The very sight was erotic to you.

Law still wasn't done with you though. He was going to stuff you to brim with his swollen cock. He wanted to feel your overstimulated pussy clenching around him.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip just brushing your clit which made you cry out. It was so sensitive now that it almost hurt.

"Fuck me, Law" you begged him, your body thrumming with the high of your climaxes. You weren't sure if you could make it through another one, but you were going to. You needed him inside of you.

"Begging for my cock?" he ran a finger down your cheek and smirked. His tip was poking at your entrance.

"Please...please fuck me," you begged again, spreading your legs wider for him.

"Since you've been so good, I'll let you have it." And then he pushed into you, going all the way to the hilt.

"Fuck Law!"

He was in pure bliss finally feeling your walls squeezing around him. He thought he never would. And you crying out his name only made him thrust harder.

You were so overwhelmed with stimulation that you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but you didn't want him to stop. You were almost in a trance.

Law had his one hand on your hip, his other hand made its way to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your throat applying light pressure. You didn't even realize how good it would feel but you enjoyed every second of it as he pounded you.

Law looked into your eyes, and there it was. Just as he had imagined: lust-blown eyes, with tears beginning to streak your cheeks. It was better than he imagined actually. You completely fucked out and spent.

The sight was going to make him cum. He wanted to fill you with his seed. He began pumping faster and his moans mingled with yours. You were going to cum again.

"Fuck, look how pretty you look with my cock buried in your pussy." His thrusts were hungry now, filled with need.

"Law...fuck Law, yes...yes" you could only whisper because you were so spent.

The hand Law had on your throat squeezed just a bit tighter as he reached the edge of his climax. "Fuck," he groaned, he was there. One more thrust and his head fell back.

"Fuck, y/n-ya!" At the same time, waves of pleasure hit you and your pussy spasmed around his cock. His orgasm was strong sending pulses to his cock and warm spurts of cum filled you up. When he pulled out he watched as his seed dripped out of you. What a sight.

The hand that had been on your throat moved to cup your cheek and you nuzzled into it. "Law..." you breathed. You reached up, covering his hand with your own.

"That was amazing," you rubbed his hand.

"You were perfect," he smiled and you thought you would do anything to see that smile more often.

He rolled off of you and went to the bathroom. When he returned he handed you a damp washcloth. You gave him a small smile and cleaned yourself up. When you were done, he took it from you and then crawled in the bed beside you. He laid his arm out, a request for you to move into closer. You snuggled into him, laying your head on his warm chest.

You felt the sleepiness begin the set in. And your eyes began to flutter closed. "Thank you," you managed to get out.

"For what?" he asked as he rubbed small circles across your shoulder.

"For helping me sleep."

He chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"The pleasure was all mine."

But you didn't hear him because sleep had taken you, so he snuggled into you and let sleep claim him too.

[catchingdaydreams]

Dungeon Meshi spoiler

Theory time : Laios greatest desires

It's been bugging me about what Laios greatest desires are as there are different ways to portray it. So here's my interpretation.

Firstly I want to acknowledge that Laios is still or some what is still the ultimate monster. Whatever he wrote down in his book describing the ultimate monster abilities (not physical appearances I'm focusing on) came true in one way, shape and form. Firstly, the ability to consume the lions desire in the first place. Secondly, in the side stories his poop actually creates a forest. Now the quote "can change shape" actually occurs twice throughout the series (so far).

Firstly turning into the monster and secondary, turning back to a human. The second time was not an act of the Lion as said quote "no magic works on it", thus it is completely Laios doing to shape shift freely. It's also interesting to note that both times he sheds his skin when changing into a new form. Like why this specially? Funny enough we do see this other time, as he turns into a wolf in his dreams to save his friend from the nightmares.

Furthermore, while turning back into a tall man, he isn't completely monster free. His aura remains that other monsters still recognize and therefore fear him.

The idea that weaker monsters fear stronger monsters to the extent of avoiding them is mentioned many times throughout the series. For example Senshi talks about how delicate the food chain is and that a stronger monster (squid/ krachen one) caused an imbalance to the abundance of other species. Naturally dragons are known to be one of the strongest monsters in the dungeon, as Thistle set a variety of different species to kill his party. Yet a common thing arises, coexist is near non-existent as power overall dominates all (either by kicking others off their territory or eating the weaker one). This Laios presence being the ultimate monster is not only removing other strong-ish monsters but disrupting the overall food chain.

Now that I establish what I think Laios is I want to drive it back to what his ultimate desire was. Here are some common ideas that I've seen from others on what his curse was:

To never turn back into the ultimate monster again.

Laios has repeatedly mentioned that he wanted to be another race and fauns over Falins chimera form. So never being able to shape shift again could be his curse.

Never will be full.

This theory stems from when Laios is still eating the dragon despite his friends being full/stick from overeating. They make a comment of concern when Laios says he's not really full yet. There is also speculation from one of the panel of Laios being dramatic as he tried to eat a walking mushroom.

Monsters fearing him and/or fail to cultivate them

In my opinion all of these are correct. Yet how?

Laios cannot eat monsters anymore

It was the main driver/theme thought the series from him and his group to eat monsters to survive. Yet little by little Laios ambitious desire to eat monsters for survival quickly became for the pleasure of taste. This isn't a bad thing, as I would like to clarify. Yet the Winged Lion doesn't really have a grasp of humanity and sees desire as desire, thus is exploiting Laios to go down a gluttonous path. And it does this by offering/guide them to a variety of monsters and access to water and basic needs for cooking. This though doesn't work as Laios is Laios. He isn't selfish. His desires for monsters mixed with the need for acceptance is heavily stated with wanted to integrate and cultivate monsters up on the surface. Furthermore, as he's not alone unlike other dungeon masters such as Thistle or Mithrun, his actions are quickly dispelled if they are reckless. For instance Senshi makes a very important note of keeping the ecosystem in balance and to not over take/kill species as it would upset the food chain. Without his party, gluttony would further be his downfall.

Yet becoming the ultimate monster can also be seen as a gluttonous ideal. He's a apex predator, thus like an actual apex predator no one is able to challenge him / prevent him on what he can or cannot eat eat. The only downfall to his survival is his abundance of prey. Heck being able to eat the lion's desire also alludes to his power of gluttony too.

So with the curse, wouldn't it be ironic to prevent his desire to eat monsters. Being the ultimate monster is now a double edged sword as prey escapes him. He cannot share his desires for eating monsters amongst his people anymore, thus the quotes or trial and error from the epilogue pages. Even if he gets his hands on a monster he cannot truly enjoy eating it, as it never makes him full, which can be interpreted from the epilogue page as well. One might look at the page and interpret as him getting ill from eating the walking mushroom too.

Basically, Laios, as a monster, cannot be a part of an ecological process such as a food webs. He wanted to be accepted and liked by his peers, now he's rejected by nature. Forced to crave for the taste of monsters flesh but it remains elusive.

Forever unsatisfied

By ones desire

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk

[callsign-rogueone]

you called - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader You're captured by gryphon fliers while out alone on patrol, but Brennan comes to your rescue. [request] words: 1.7k 🏷: no book spoilers, as this occurs years before Fourth Wing, soon after Bren graduated from Basgiath. gender neutral reader in an established romantic relationship with Brennan. brief / vague descriptions of interrogation, torture, and inhumane treatment of reader by fliers, but Bren mends you and takes care of you (lots of cuddles). your dragon is mated to Marbh. her name is Fuir, a shortened form of the word for "alive" since Marbh means "dead". you sleep in Bren's shirt but there's no description of how it fits on you. wrote this in an hour and didn't edit so be nice pls

It’s easy enough to find the cell block. You’re the only prisoner there, with just one guard posted outside that Brennan makes quick work of, taking the keys from his belt to unlock the door.

He kneels down by your side, comforted by the rise and fall of your chest -- he’d known that you were still alive, because he is, as are Fuir and Marbh, but the visual confirmation is soothing.

He wraps a hand around your wrist to block the pain, using the other to start mending your wounds. Whoever had been interrogating you must have had a very short temper; your temples are bloodied, a few of your ribs bruised or broken, several small cuts dotting the exposed skin of your arms -- they’d taken your flight jacket, as a trophy.

He burns with anger, but forces himself to focus on the good, the fact that you’re still alive in front of him, that he’d found you before it was too late.

You finally open those pretty eyes, struggling to focus your gaze on him, but you put it together quickly enough. “Bren,” you murmur, delirious, “you came.”

“You called,” he answers simply, still working on mending your wounds.

It takes you a moment to work through the thick fog of what is definitely a concussion, but you realize he must have heard your desperate cries for help down the bond and came to find you; your plan worked.

You’d wanted to give up hope after the first day, but accepting your death meant accepting Brennan’s as well, and you couldn’t let him die like that, so you persevered. You’d forced yourself to eat what meager portions of food they’d given you, to drink the foul-tasting water and sleep as much as you could, to keep yourself alive.

Whenever they left you alone, you’d tried to reach for Fuir, for Brennan and Marbh, for your magic, getting no responses. After two days, you realized that they must have put a power-dampener in that water, like the one the professors had dosed you with before RSC to disconnect you from your dragons. So you’d stopped drinking it, pouring it out instead to make it look like you had -- and that night, you’d finally felt that little red string connecting you to Fuir, and the shimmering orange one that leads you to Brennan and Marbh. 

You’d cried in relief, trying to reach out to them, but your words had quickly turned to screams of pain as the officer returned to try to get information out of you again. They must have figured out your scheme, because the beating was the worst that day -- they’d hardly ever left you alone, giving you less than an hour between rounds of questioning.

You close your eyes again, realizing that this is probably a dream, a hallucination brought on by days of isolation in this dark room with only enough food and water to keep you alive. You aren’t really aware of how long it’s been. There’s no sunlight down here, and they haven’t been feeding you on a regular schedule, so you couldn’t keep track by counting the meals, either.

“I thought Navarre didn’t bother with extractions,” you mumble. 

“They don’t. So I might be court-martialed when we get back, but I don’t care. I couldn’t leave you here.”

“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Shouldn’t have gone off on my own. Thank you for finding me.”

“Don’t apologize, love. And I’ll always find you,” he promises, stroking your hair. “We’re tied together, aren’t we?”

You manage a soft laugh that quickly turns into a cough, your throat dry and raw from the screaming and from days without much water.

He decides he’s mended you enough for now -- you should be able to move now without injuring yourself further, and you really need to get out of here. “Up you get,” he coaxes, hooking an arm around your waist and helping you up from the floor.

Someone is waiting for you in the hallway -- someone dressed in black. A rider.  “Nao?” you ask, blinking at him. You really must be hallucinating.

The older rider smiles at you. “Hi, kid. Good to see you in one piece.” He turns to Brennan. “There’s two guards at each exit. We can take them, but they’ll probably sound an alarm.”

The two men continue to strategize, and you try to follow along, but most of the words go in one ear and out the other. You settle for leaning against Brennan and trying to stay awake.

“Hello, sweet one,” Fuir says gently, and you nearly cry at the familiar voice back in your head after days of isolation.

“Hi,” you respond in a whisper.

Brennan and Naolin have agreed on a plan, and you follow them closely, staying by Brennan’s side as they lead you out of the compound. Naolin makes quick work of both of the guards, knocking them out easily, and you slip past the treeline into the forest.

It’s freezing outside, literally -- your boots make tracks through the half-inch of snow on the ground that continues to fall gently, tiny flakes drifting through the air and coating everything in a thin layer of white.

You rub your hands over your arms, trying to keep warm. Brennan drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and you burrow into it, happy to be wrapped in the warmth and softness of the fur-collared fabric and the comforting smell of your partner. 

You finally spot Fuir -- she looks a little worse for wear, too, cuddled up with Marbh, who is licking her wounds like an oversized cat. Cute.

“Can you still make it home?” you ask, concerned.

She sounds slightly offended. “Of course I can. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She lays down, making it easier for you to climb up her leg. As you settle into your seat, you can feel invisible bands of magic keeping you in place -- you breathe a sigh of relief that you won’t have to worry about keeping your seat as you pass over the mountain range. You have no idea how long of a flight it’s going to be, but you don’t think you could handle more than a few minutes in the saddle.

“Now would be an excellent time to leave!” Naolin shouts from his perch on the back of Tairn’s neck.

You turn your head, seeing three gryphons closing in from your right. Shit.

“We’ll be fine,” she soothes. “If we get high enough, they won’t be able to follow us.”

You shut your eyes tightly as the cold wind hits your cheeks, making your eyes water -- they’d taken your goggles too, and all your knives, everything except your base layer of clothing. She raises her head, blocking the worst of it, tightening up her formation with Tairn and Marbh, letting each of them protect you from one side.

“I think we lost them,” Brennan tells you through the bond, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 

Fuir adjusts the invisible ties keeping you seated, guiding you forward to lean against the back of her neck. “Rest. It’s another hour to get home.”

You hum in reply, pulling Brennan’s cloak tighter around your shoulders and relaxing into her. She feels warmer than usual, likely because you’re freezing cold.

You wake to the feeling of the wind dying down, and her wings stilling as she lands.

She settles down into the snowy grass, letting you climb down slowly. 

Brennan is waiting on the ground to help you, gathering you into his arms. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he coaxes.

You shake your head no. “Want you to do it,” you say quietly. 

He caves easily, leading you to his room, keeping you tucked into his side with a strong arm around your waist. Nobody questions it or stops you on the way up, your bloodied appearance perfectly normal for a rider.

He settles you into his desk chair, starting to mend the smaller cuts and bruises that he hadn’t gotten to earlier. The warmth of his hands and the feeling of the aching pain subsiding relaxes you, your eyes falling shut.

“You think you can shower?” he asks gently.

You nod. You don’t want to get up, but you do feel absolutely disgusting after the last four days, and a shower is definitely in order. Two showers, probably. 

You follow him into the en-suite bathroom, going through the motions without thought -- washing the blood from your skin, scrubbing off the dirt and making an attempt at washing your hair. Brennan stands by your side, showering himself in near-silence, washing off the day. 

He wraps you in a warm towel, letting you rest against him for a moment. “You should eat something,” he says gently.

You burrow deeper into him in protest. “Later,” you murmur. You just want to sleep. It’s late, nearing lights-out anyway, and you need to rest up for the inevitable scolding you’re going to get tomorrow morning.

“Do you want one of your shirts, or mine?” he asks.

“Yours, please,” you answer quietly; his clothes are always more comfortable, more comforting to you, and you could use that extra layer of his presence right now. You finish drying yourself off, letting him slip one of his black tunics over your head and wiggling your arms into the sleeves.

He pulls the covers back, motioning for you to climb into bed with him. The softness of the mattress underneath you and the feel of warm, clean blankets against your skin after three days of sleeping on a dirty stone floor is overwhelming. You finally start to cry, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re safe, my love,” he soothes, holding you close. “You’re home, with me.”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to steady your breathing. “I know, I just…”

He shushes you softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you, and that I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”

You nod against his shoulder. “Love you too,” you sniff. “Thank you for finding me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I will always find you.”

You relax into him, comforted by the warmth of his body against yours, the muscled arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne that lingers on the sheets. This is the safest place in the world, right here -- not Navarre, not the fortress, but this room, this bed, because Brennan is in it, holding you.

“Get some sleep,” he encourages. “I’ll be right here with you.”

You hum in reply, nuzzling your cheek into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.

[finelinevogue]

family will get you through

summary - you go through a life changing operation but you have a strong family to get you through it

warnings: brain tumour, anxiety, self deprecation, swearing, kissing n fluff, hopeful ending, i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not up to my usual writing standards unfortunately :(

word count: +6.8 k

pairing: husband/dad!harry x reader

Everything was occurring like normal. You were making the kids lunches for school as usual. You were cleaning the breakfast away as usual. Harry was on his last day of tour. Yet, somehow, within 24 hours, your life was going to be turned upside down.

For the worst.

During the hoovering of the carpet you heard your phone ring. After spending 10 seconds to find the bloody thing you finally picked up.

During the hoovering of the carpet you heard your phone ring. After spending 10 seconds to find the bloody thing you finally picked up.

"Hello?" You asked, not recognising the number.

"Hi there. Is this Y/N Styles speaking?" The male voice asked, on the end of the line.

"Yes it is." You answer.

"Hiya Y/N. It's Dr Hughes here." He introduced himself, but it didn't comfort you any more knowing who was on the other side of the phone. Your doctor never calls you unless it's bad news. The last time they called, it was because Sofia might have had suspected appendicitis. She didn't, but still the doctors remained the bearers of bad news.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr Hughes?" You asked politely, with a hint of sarcasm dripping in your tone.

"Unfortunately I bring bad news, again, Mrs Styles." He began, making you gulp down your worries unsuccessfully. "The tests that we ran on you, a while back, came back and unfortunately there is a problem." Your heart relaxed slightly that there was nothing wrong with your children or your husband.

"Okay." You urged him to carry on, disliking all the tip-toeing sounds the problem.

"Mrs Styles, there is no easy way of me telling you this." Dr Hughes took a deep breath before announcing the news. "You have a brain tumour, Y/N."

Luckily you were stood by the sofa and were able to collapse on that, when your legs gave way, otherwise you'd have landed on the floor. You covered your hand over you mouth to muffle any noises that threatened to escape, as you were in pure shock.

"It's not an overly large tumour and it will be able to be removed, with quick and efficient surgery, which we can offer, but we needed confirmation that you are willing to go through with this first." Your head was spinning and you couldn't tell up from down for a minute. It took a few calls of your name, from Dr Hughes, to pull you back.

"Um... Sorry. Is there any chance I can come talk to you in person?" You sniffled, but cleared your throat to try and stay strong over the phone.

"I'm free all tomorrow morning, Mrs Styles. Please feel free to drop in at any time." He kindly offered.

"Thank you." You said.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Styles, but if we act quickly you'll be alright. I guarantee it." He assured you and with you final goodbye you hung up the phone.

With him no longer listening to you over the phone you were able to break down in tears. You never thought something like this would be happening to you, but yet here you were. With a brain tumour, no less.

Your cry's were starting to hurt your chest from how heavy they were. You couldn't calm yourself down and all you wanted right now was Harry. Harry... What would he think about all this? Would he leave you? You hated that your brain went straight to that question but that was the hard hitting reality of the situation.

You tapped on Harrys number and called him, hoping he wasn't too busy. He always told you, whenever you needed him, no matter what time, he'll always be there. But would he still want to be there when he finds out his wife has a brain tumour?

After two rings he picks up.

"Hi love, everything okay? You're lucky I was up otherwise I would've been asleep!" The soothing tones of his voice calming you down.

"Shit, H, i'm so sorry." You sobbed loudly down the phone, not being able to bravely hold it in anymore.

"Hey, hey. It's fine Y/N/N. No need to cry over it love." He coos, not fully understanding why you were having a full breakdown over potentially waking him up.

"No. No i-it's not that H." You lean on your knees and cup your hand over your temples to soothe some of the pain, from the headache that was forming.

"Okay then. What's wrong baby? You can tell me, it's alright." His voice slightly trembling, hating the sound of you heavily crying without him there to comfort you.

If you did ever cry like this either Harry was right beside you, hugging you like there's no tomorrow, or you'd get through it by yourself - if he was away. You felt selfish dumping your problems on him when he wasn't right there to comfort you through it. Today was even worse, though. Today was Harrys last concert for the Love on Tour, tour, in L.A. Not only did he have a duty to preform to his adoring fans, he was also thousands of miles away. He wouldn't be able to do anything, other than offer some calming words, but somehow, this time, you didn't see how that was going to be enough.

"I got a call from Dr Hughes." You began and taking a deep breath before continuing, only imagining where Harry's head was at with those words. "H, i'm so sorry. He - uh - he told me I have a brain tumour. He said, with surgery, it can be removed but I need to act quick. I-i'm going to see him tomorrow, but I just needed to tell you."

You expected Harry to cut in at some point, but there was only silence. He was only ever quiet when he was shocked or had nothing left to say, and it terrified you that he was feeling that way.

"Harry?" You trembled out, wondering if he was even still there.

You heard him clear his throat before talking. "Um, yeah okay."

You were taken aback by how little words he was using. You couldn't work out whether you'd rather have had him say nothing at all. Your heart strings started to break a little at the thought that he was, most likely, thinking of different ways to divorce you and so forth. His life was too precious for him to be left with a damaged wife. God knows what you'll be like after surgery, and Harry didn't need to be stuck with looking after you when he should be touring with his adoring fans.

"Sorry, H." You murmured before hanging up, knowing he wouldn't have anything to say back. You regretted not wishing him look for his last concert date tonight, but it wasn't at the forefront of mind right now. You knew he would smash it anyways - he always did.

What if that had been your last goodbye?

You placed your phone on the coffee table and hysterically cried to yourself.

••••

A few hours later and you had called your parents over, after telling them, to pick the kids up from school - seeing as you were too emotionally unstable to be doing so. It made you feel like such a disappointment not being able to be strong enough to pick up your children, but you were worried you wouldn't be able to focus when driving - and you wouldn't put your children in danger.

Your parents had arrived as quickly as they could and spent hours reassuring you that you'd be okay, and that Harry loved you too much to ever say goodbye. You had a hard time believing them though, considering Harry had said all of two words to you - none of which implied that he still loved you and was going to be there for you through it all.

It was times like this when all you wanted, and needed, was your Harry, but unfortunately that just couldn't be the case. If Harry were to leave you, you wouldn't know what to do. You have kids and you always promised Harry that none of your kids would be raised from a broken home - you just couldn't put them through that. Yet, now, it seems inevitable.

After the kids had got back from school and had dinner, which you sat around for but didn't have anything, you and your children had cuddled up to watch some Netflix. Your parents had gone home, telling you that you just needed some time alone with your children. They never questioned what was wrong, but they could tell something was up. It took watching 5 episodes of The Big Bang Theory until your children were all on the verge of sleep, and so you'd shuffled them all along to bed.

"Mummy?" Sofia asked as you turned off her main light and turned on her bed light. You walked over to her single-bed, that was decorated in princesses and flowers, and sat down next to her.

"Yes sweetheart?" You answered. Sofia had been quiet all evening, but you just assumed she had been tired.

"I missed you picking me up today." She told you with her sad eyes. You brushed her hair off her face and behind her ear.

"I know. I missed you too, but mummy had some news today that wasn't very nice and so I didn't want to upset you with me being upset." You told her, not feeling like you had to hide anything from your children.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked sincerely, with a little wobble of her rosy lips to signify she was worried about you. You hated that your children had to check on you, and yet your husband hadn't, but you also appreciated it greatly.

You thought about how to answer her question, because it was hard to answer. Of course you were going to face complications and re-percussions, later in time, after surgery, but you also would if you didn't have surgery. It was just whether or not something went wrong in surgery, or it actually turned out the surgery was no longer viable. You wanted to tell her so badly that everything would be okay, but you also couldn't lie to her.

"Mummy's going to be just fine." You turn your head to see your gorgeous husband standing in the doorway, looking like he'd been crying due to the red puffy eyes. They were probably similar to yours, however you'd tried to hide yours from your children.

As soon as you made eye contact with Harry the tears fell freely down your face. There was no stopping them either. Emotions were flying all over the place, but the one that stood out the most was relief. You thought you'd have a runaway husband but instead he was right here. He'd flown all the way from L.A. just to see you. You had no idea what was happening with the tour but you couldn't think of anything other than the man stood in the hallway.

"Daddy!" Sofia screamed, like she'd just gained 100 pounds of energy, and jumped out of her bed to run to her dad. Her little legs could only make her run so fast but when she got there Harry was ready to scoop her up in his warm embrace.

"Ohhh I missed you, my love." Harry pressed light kisses all over her face and Sofia started squirming in his grasp, giggling as Harry continued to attack her.

"Did someone say dad is here?" You heard Will day from down the hall, but you'd buried your face in your hands, in disbelief and shock, to truly acknowledge what was going on.

You listened to the sounds of them reuniting and getting bombarded by kisses from Harry, until it got a bit too overwhelming. Harry was actually here and that was something you thought would be a distant dream, and hearing him play with your children was such a joyous thing to hear. You decided that you needed a minute away, and to yourself.

"Excuse me." You announce softly, working your way past the pile of people that were now on the floor. You wanted to laugh at how your children had tackled Harry down to the ground, but your tears prevented you from feeling that way.

You walked to your bedroom, and outside onto the small terrace that was attached to it. It let you have a stunning view of the city in the distant, but you could also had the pleasure of having the rolling hills, and stunning fields of gold, in the foreground. You shut the sliding door over, trying to get the atmosphere as quiet at possible. You rested your elbows on the stone railing and placed your hands on your forehead, before continuing your hardened sobs. Ever since the dreaded phone call this morning, you don't think you've had a second, after it, where there hasn't been a teardrop on your skin.

After 5 minutes, give or take, you heard the sliding doors open. You didn't need to turn and look to see who it was to know who it was - his comforting presence alone telling you.

You turned around quickly to see he had been stood infinitely close behind you, probably apprehensive about touching or comforting you. The way you immediately brought your arms around him, to give him a hug, took him by surprise, but within seconds he was embracing you back and tighter than ever. You buried your face in his chest as the tears continued, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

After a minute or two, hugging in comfortable silence, you tilted your head up and looked from his eyes to his gorgeous lips. He noticed you looking and started to lean himself down slowly, still being wary of how you were feeling towards him. You couldn't take being away from him any longer, and so cupped the back of his neck to bring him down faster.

The feeling of his lips on yours made you feel invincible. You forgot about all yours worries when he was pressed close against you. It was as if nothing else mattered, but only you two. He made you forget that he had been a jerk on the phone. He made you forget that you had a bloody brain tumour. He made you forget every small detail you'd been worrying over for the past 14 hours or so. Even though it only lasted for a minute; he made you forget.

The sound of smacking lips detaching one another allowed you to breathe again. He was good at making you feel breathless and savouring every minute moment he had with you. You both stared in to each others eyes and let them talk to one other. You could tell by his emerald, doe, eyes that he was unimaginably sorry, and he could tell from yours that you forgave him no questions asked.

"I thought you'd left me." You honestly let him know.

"Never, baby. I promised i'd always be there for you, and some fucking tumour, isn't going to change that." You loved that Harry could find the light in a situation like this. It's one of his charming qualities that never ceases to amaze you.

"I have th—"

"Daddy?" You hear from behind you both. You see Sofia standing there, in her cute lilac polka-dot onesie, looking at Harry with adoring eyes. She hasn't seen him in a month or so, and so seeing him, earlier than expected too, has turned her into a little sheep to follow Harry - wanting to spend every spare minute with him.

"Sof." Harry sighed, reluctantly detaching himself from around you. "I told you, sweetheart, that I need to make sure mummy's okay for a bit, alright?" He reminded her, his words filling your heart with so much love and happiness you thought it might burst.

"But daddyyy..." She whines, stomping her foot delicately on the floor.

"No Sof. It's not fair on mummy is it?" He crouched down to her level to caress her soft cheeks.

"H, it's alright. I'm alright. Go and see to her, and the boys too if they want you. I can wait."

Harry stands back up, after seeing how his daughters expression changes to a much more excited one. He walks over to you and cups both your cheeks with his large, veiny, hands.

"You're so annoying, you know that right?" Harry teases you, probably frustrated that your intimate moment, that could've turned into something more intimate, had been interrupted. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips and you pushed him along to go sort out his children.

An hour and a half later you and Harry were sat in the bath together. You were layed back against his chest and his arms, along with yours, were resting on top of your stomach. Your legs were interwoven and your head was back against Harrys shoulder, his cheek to the top of your head. You'd argue that this is more intimate that anything else - to be so desperately close to one another, and yet still hold back from all pleasurable interactions. Sure, the moments leading up to you both needing the bath had been beautiful and raw, sending all kinds of sensations flying through your body, but this was something special.

If you could freeze time, this is where you'd like to be frozen.

"Will you get angry at me if I apologise again?" Harry asked, nodding his cheek further into your hair - which apparently smelt like 'heaven' according to Harry.

"Most likely." You chuckled, knowing that you wouldn't but you'd become irate about it. You'd lost count of the amount of times that Harry had apologised to you this evening, but he said he couldn't ever put a number on how many times he should apologise because it would be too big. He vowed to use the rest of his life to show how he'll love you till the end of your time, and prove he never intended to leave you. You thought he'd proved himself enough over the past few hours he's been back, but you weren't going to stop him from showering you in more love.

"Sorry." Harry buries his head in your shoulder to hide away from your pretend wrath.

You move around in the warm, soapy bath water until you're straddling his legs. The bath water sloshed around as you moved, but luckily you were agile enough to not let any spill overboard. Harry couldn't take his eyes off your mesmerising body, and you had to tilt his chin up for him to lose contact with your chest and gain contact with your orbs.

"You're the worst." You tease him for apologising to you, again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest up against his - hissing at the cold contact against your boobs.

"Don't I know it." He rolls his eyes and gives you a smirk, holding on to your back tighter.

"But I couldn't love you any less." You tell him, kissing his lips quickly but enough to send butterflies through your body.

"Hmm. Well that could be a compliment, depending on how much you love me already?" He asked, pointing out the flaw in your nonsense.

You thought for a minute before answering. "I love you more than you love me." You slyly smirk, knowing how badly he hates comparing your love. He's such a sore loser and finds it bruising to his ego when you say you love him more than he does you. He belly laughs at your statement, not being able to control himself.

"Not only did you just deflate my ego, and boost your narcissism, but it's cute that you actually believe what you said." Harry starts of lightheartedly but you can tell he became more serious towards the end.

"But I—"

"I don't think so Mrs Styles." He brings you even closer, which you thought was impossible.

"I love you H."

"I love you... even more." Harry returns, and you drop your head, giggling, on to his shoulder from giving up with him.

•••••

2 months later and surgery had been successful.

The day of the surgery you'd never felt more nervous for anything. The nerves you felt that day even beat your pre-wedding nerves. It was such an intense and overwhelming feeling, and none of it would have been possible if it weren't for Harry being there for you the whole time. Your children were all superstars too. They continuously showered you in love, and although it was Harry buying the gifts, they treated to you flowers whenever you were down. Whether it was a bunch of roses, a bouquet of different flowers or a single sunflower to plant in the garden, it always managed to cheer you up.

You had surgery a couple of days ago and you were still in and out of sleep, not having spoken a word yet. The morphine dosage that they gave you, along with all the other concoctions of medicine they gave you, had been really strong. The doctor had explained to you, after surgery, how you might not come around, properly, until a few days after surgery. No doubt Harry stayed by your side through all of it.

Lying subconscious in bed allowed you to think a lot. It terrified you as to how you were going to be after surgery and how dependent you were going to have to be on other people for a while. Apparently your legs and arms become really weak, because you brain has been out of action and a small proportion has been attacked by a tumour, and that scared you. You didn't want your children to see you helpless - what kind of example would that set to them? You probably would have to be fed for a small amount of time, and either use crutches or maybe a wheelchair, and you, being the strong and independent woman you are, hated that.

Today was different. You could feel it.

You woke up, from your light slumber, with a heavy presence on your hand. If you hadn't become so accustomed to the feel of Harrys hand you probably wouldn't have known what it was, but you'd recognise that soft, bony, feel anywhere.

You open your eyes slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the light in their own time. You noticed you were in your own private room, something that they had very limited numbers of in hospitals here, and it was no doubt due to Harrys constant nagging and persistency that you were here. Looking to your right you confirmed that it was Harry holding your hand. He was slouched in a chair, facing your direction, sleeping, but holding your hand nevertheless. It took another second to realise Sofia was asleep in his lap, looking like the princess she was. There was another few chairs in the corner of the room and you realised your sons were all sat on them. Thomas and Eric resting their heads on each other and Will sat with his hood pulled up over his face.

It was beyond comforting to know your family was still here and waiting patiently for you.

You softly ran your finger over Harrys hand, trying to cause a disturbance. You'd attempted to voice your actions but nothing came out, due to your throat being so dry. You noticed a cup of water next to your bedside table and decided to help yourself. You turned the best you could, with Harry still holding on to your hand, and then moved your arm to the water. It was hard, really hard, but you managed to do it. You held the plastic cup as firmly as you could, with your trembling fingers, and sat up a bit further to take a sip. You managed a few sips before your fingers gave way and you dropped the plastic cup to the floor, spilling the rest of the water on the floor.

The noise wasn't loud but obviously loud enough to wake people up. Everyone except Harry - whom didn't wake up for anyone. He could sleep through an earthquake if he tried.

"Mum!" "Mummy!" A chorus of your children's voices echoed throughout the room, eventually waking Harry up in the process. Thomas and Eric came over to stand next to your bedside, taking your hand in both of theirs. Will rested on the end of the bed, giving you a soft smile which you returned. Sofia jumped across from Harrys lap on to your bed and engulfed you in a hug.

"Umph." You let out the noise when she jumped on you, still feeling a little sensitive all over your body.

"Hey, hey. Sof. You need to be careful with mummy, alright?" Harry comes and removes her slightly off of you, so you don't have to carry as much weight.

"Sorry mummy." Sofia apologises, going to sit next to you, her little legs dangling off the bed and miles from the floor. You gave her a small smile to signify you were okay and that you didn't need her apology. Harry stood nearby her in case she fell.

"How are you mum?" Will asked. Even though Will acted like he was too cool to get involved, you knew that he did honestly care and his question warmed your heart that he was taking an interest.

"A bit achey, not going to lie. I also find it really hard to move my legs and arms, but that was to be expected." You try and say with a strong and brave voice, but you didn't even convince yourself that it was.

"Will, buddy?" Harry asks, catching Will's attention. "Could you maybe take Sofia and the boys to the vending machine?" He hands over a handful of loose change. "Just get some crisps or chocolate for yourselves, please?"

Will obviously understood that his dad was asking for a couple of minutes alone with you.

"Sure. Cmon Sof." Will cheerily spoke, holding out his hand for her. Harry helped her off the bed, and Thomas and Eric both squeezed your hand to show they were here for you. Once they all left, Sofia rambling on about her favourite chocolate bar, Harry came and sat down by you.

He wrapped both his large hands in your smaller, and frailer, one. He leant down to plant a long-lasting kiss to your forehead, the sparks remaining even after he'd moved away. He then rested his forehead lightly on yours, looking in to your eyes the best he could from this angle. You had a feeling he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want the same thing.

"I missed you." Harry whispered against your face, your lips ghosting each other.

"You've been here the whole time, H." You  remind him.

"But it wasn't the same. Not being able to see these beautiful, dreamy, eyes. Not being able to annoy you whenever I want. Not being able to cuddle up next to you in bed every night. Not being able to hear your angelic laugh." He stops to look down at your lips. "And not being able to kiss these pretty things." He nudged his nose against yours.

"Well nothing's stopping you now." You smirk.

Harry lets out a small chuckle before rushing down to meet your lips with his. It was as if it was the first time he was getting to do it. He was so excited and you could feel the happiness radiate off him as his lips moulded against yours. You had to pull away to catch your breath.

"Yeah. Definitely missed that." Harry stated, making you chuckle.

You tried to move your hands up to cup his cheek but it was difficult to raise it past a certain point, your muscles being too weak to allow it. You sadly sighed to yourself and flopped your arm back on the bed beside you, closing your eyes in disappointment.

A second later you feel Harrys hand lifting your arm. You open your eyes to glance at him and he's reading your facial expressions to make sure what he's doing isn't hurting you in any way.

"Together." Harry firmly tells you, finally resting your palm against his cheek. He leans against it and you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Harry makes sure to hold your hand in place so you aren't doing all the hard-work.

"Sorry." You look at him through your sad eyes.

"For what, darling?" Harry looks deep in to your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"For all this." Your nod your head down to your body, referring to how you were semi-immobile. "I know it's not what you signed up for, but—"

"But I love you no matter what." Harry finishes your sentence for you, not wanting to hear your criticise yourself any more than you already had. "This isn't your fault, baby. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. We're going to get through this. You're not alone. That, I can promise you."

His words brought as tears to your eye but Harry manages to kiss it away, leaving him with salty lips, before it can truly fall.

••••

2 weeks later, you were out of the hospital now and back home. It was been very overwhelming the last couple of weeks.

You still were unable to walk properly without the support of crutches, or a wheelchair and sometimes Harry. It was a blessing in disguise that your children were still at school, because it meant that you were able to have a lot of time to yourself, and with Harry, without constant interruptions or fussing over you.

Your children had been brilliant. They helped around the house when necessary, and every weekend, when they didn't have school, they delivered you breakfast in bed. Sofia made your cards, that had messages inside that were all spelt wrong, and drew family portraits for you. Sometimes you'd end up with a blue face and green hair, but you didn't love it any less.

As for Harry. Well he was just another level of amazing. He cleaned around the house, even when you insisted you could. He was very firm and layed out the ground rules early on. You weren't to move without his assistance and it had to be with good reason. I.e. apparently getting yourself a glass of water isn't good enough. He picked up the kids from school and dropped them off, sometimes you'd come along if your medication hadn't made you too drowsy. He did allow you to help cook dinner, what with stirring the pan, to let you feel like you were doing something, but he didn't want to overwork you.

Harry and yourself were currently out in the park, and it was very amusing.

You were in your comfy clothes, whilst Harry was in his running gear. He was running laps of a swimming-pool-sized pond, whilst you were walking indescribably slow with your crutches to assist you. Every time he jogged past you he would joke about how you were 'catching him up', but that was far from the truth. You'd barely gone around half of the pond, whereas Harry had done four laps of it, so far. You found the whole thing hilarious.

Harry was catching up to you again and you attempted to go a bit faster to make it seem like you were racing him.

"Oh I see. You're trying to get away from me now, huh?" Harry shouts from behind you. You laughed to yourself as you continue to place the crutches out in front of you before moving yourself forwards. "I don't think so.." Harrys voice becoming more apparent now, from obviously being able to move faster than you.

You suddenly feel his arms wrap around yours and he twirls you around in the air.

"Harry!"

"I've got you. I won." He attacks your neck with kisses, probably leaving a mark or two. Acting like this with him makes it look like you were still falling in love with each other, not being married and have four kids already. You wouldn't want it any other way though.

"You only win because you're a sore loser." You tease him as he places you back down on the floor.

"Shut up." He mumbles.

You go down to pick up your crutches, which you'd accidentally let go of, but are stopped by Harry.

"It's alright love i've got them." Harry tells you, knowing how hard it is for you to bend over and multitask by picking something up.

"No. It's okay. I want to try." You shyly tell him, feeling stupid that you're even requesting it. Harry proudly smiles at you before you lean down to pick them up.

Harrys hand ghosts over the small of your back, just on stand-by for support in case you need it. You let out a groan half-way down, not wanting to give up but realising that this was more difficult than anticipated.

"You've got this baby. Keep going." Harry comforted you to carry on, even when he knew you were struggling, because he knows you can do it. The mere thought gives you enough strength to keep going and power through the ache.

With one final push you're able to pick them up and stand back up. Harry slinks his arms around your waist and picks you up so he's carrying you around his torso. Your legs instinctively cross over his back, and your arms find way to his neck.

Without any words Harrys lips press against yours passionately, and you know that he is proud of you.

••••

A year later had come another milestone for you.

You'd successfully managed to drive the kids to school, and back home. Harry had sat in the passenger seat, making sure to help you with the wheel or change of gears, throughout. You were both anxious. You, more about ending up having an accident and Harry more for wanting you to prove to yourself that you could do it. But you did it.

The kids had been over the moon to hear that their mum was driving them to and from school, complaining that their dads jokes were getting too old now. Harry was mildly offended and continued with his jokes as punishment.

You'd forgotten the route and ended up at a pig-farm, upon trying to get to school, but Harry found it funny and it made you relax. Minor-amnesia was a product of the surgery, and it was times when you were trying to drive somewhere that it became an issue. Other times it was actually quite useful. For example when you'd genuinely forgotten someones name, you can blame it on the surgery, or if you were meant to collect something and had forgotten you'd be politely excused.

After having dinner with the kids, which was an Indian takeaway from your favourite, you made sure they all went to bed before spending some time with Harry downstairs. He'd mentioned how he needed to talk to you about some things this evening.

Both of you were snuggled up on the sofa, with you practically lying on top of Harry. Harry had a can of beer in his hand and your glass of water was carefully placed on the floor. You'd been advised not to drink alcohol for a while, just until the migraines settle down.

"H? You alright? You've been very quiet." You asked, as you kept your eyes on the TV where the BBC News was playing. You weren't really watching it, but it was just there to fill the background noise with anything other than silence.

"Um, yeah." He clears his throat. "I've been thinking a lot lately."

"About?" You ask, not exactly being able to read Harrys mind.

"Life. You. Kids. The future.." He answers, but you can sense he his nervous as his heart is beating considerably faster than usual.

"Okay?" You press for him to continue.

"I'm going to give it all up." He just blurts out, catching you if guard and making you stop breathing for a few seconds.

You twist around so you're sat crossed legged over his legs. "W-what do you mean?" You ask, confused over his proposal.

"I mean, I quit. I'm done with that part of my life." He answers as a matter of factly.

You close your eyes and shake your head to try and process what's actually happening right now.

"H? What are you doing?" You ask, flabbergasted. "Music is your life.."

"No, Y/N. You are my life. Those children, sleeping soundly upstairs, are my life. Music is a passion and a relaxation. It is a way to express my emotions when I don't have you around."

"But—"

"I know, I know. I'll miss the touring and meeting all the amazing fans, but leaving you is just something i'm not willing to do anymore."

A few tears slip down your cheeks when you realise what you're doing.

"This is all my fault." You begin to cry, covering your face with your palms to hide yourself from Harry.

"Hey, Y/N/N, no it's not. You hear me? It's not." Harry tugs your hands away from your face so he can see your beautiful face. "Look at me, darling." He tells you more than asks you.

"Sor—" You start.

"Sshh. I don't want to hear it. I mean, you having surgery is part of the reason, but there are so many other things that are bigger than that. Y/N/N, I love you so so much. More than you could ever believe and I just want to spend the rest of my life with you now. Of course i'll continue to write, produce and publish music, but i'm just not up for touring, like I did, anymore. From now on I want to become the family man. I want to be there every day for our children, no matter what. I need them so much more than they could ever need me."

"But money H..?" You sigh, even though your spirit is so happy from Harrys insight into the future.

"That is not for you to worry about, right now, alright? I've been planning this for a while now and I have things in place and such. I just needed to tell you, because your my other half - my better half - and I felt you deserved to be involved."

It went quiet for a little bit as you let everything Harrys told you, so far, sink in. You'd stopped crying, mainly because Harry wasn't giving your tears a chance to run down your face. You started to smile to yourself at a life where 365 days of a year you can wake up next to your husband.

"What you smiling at, gorgeous?" Harry chuckled, caressing your cheek.

"You." You cheese. "And how I get to be with you for the rest of my days."

"I can't wait to start living the rest of my life with you." Harry softly says, kissing your nose briefly.

Rest of your lives. You could get used to that.

[alessiathepirate]

Sherlock (BBC)

CROWN JEWELS: Jim Moriarty x fem!reader

Summary: Be careful what you say - especially around a man like Jim Moriarty.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may have made while I wrote this short story.

I have been working on this since summer and now that it's finally done I think I'm ready to share it with you guys. I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll enjoy reading it.

Also a silent thank you for my friend who told me to keep going even after writer's block hit me hard. <3

Warnings: swearing

•••

Jim Moriarty likes to leave a lasting impression.

That was her first thought about him ever since she first met him - ever since she first heard him talk and saw his body language. The man talks with his whole body - especially when he's in an angry or mischievious mood -, expresses himself with his arms' and shoulders' movements and with his many different gestures. The words he uses and the way he builds up sentence after sentence makes one to stop and listen. And he can make all of that look elegant and strangely enough, gentleman-like.

No matter what he does or talks about, how many times you have already met him, he's someone who you can never get fully used to and that alone always burries that lasting impression. It causes many different feelings and thoughts about the man, making the brain work and think about him and his every little gesture and word long after he's left.

But how long can that impression last?

Long enough for her to remember their first meeting weeks after it had occurred. Long enough for her to build up a whole complicated characterization and profile of him. Long enough for her to be able to quote his words exactly as he had said them.

As she sat in her own armchair in 221B Baker Street, watching the news on the telly about Jim Moriarty himself; the remains of that well known charm of his being slowly built up the memories of their first meeting.

She was in the exact same position, sitting in her own armchair - what Sherlock and John thought she finally deserved, so she won't have to sit on the chouch or on the 'chair of shame' (as she liked to call that) when they have a case to solve -; but instead of watching the telly, she was reading, falling head first into the world of the book, enjoying the peace and quiet which occurred pretty rarely in 221B. But despite the fact that she was way too interested in whatever she was reading, she still noticed the noise of a door opening downstairs, followed by the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

She looked up from the book, picking up her bookmark as she listened to the quiet tapping as someone's shoes met with the steps. She has spent enough time in 221B to be able to differ everyone's steps: Sherlock's, John's, Mrs. Hudson's, even Lestrade's and potential clients' - but these steps didn't sound like any of those.

Sherlock was always quick as he came up, too excited about the cases he had to solve and way too happy to be free from boredom. John was either slow when he came up, looking through the letters they've got or quick and angry, done with Sherlock's new case or with the certain experiments he was doing in the flat. Mrs. Hudson's were always high pitched, Lestrade's quick and heavy as he ran upstairs and the clients' were slow, reluctant and quiet.

These steps were slow, that was true, but there was something unusual about them, about the sound when they met with the wooden staircase. These were slow and quiet, but confident and elegant - these were something new and not usual and boring.

She put her book down and looked at the door what was wide open - because no matter how many times either she or John closed it, Sherlock always left it open. They gave up pretty soon, accepting the fact that their only protection against a robbery is Mrs. Hudson and the door downstairs.

The stranger was soon standing in the doorway, looking around the flat so calmly it looked like he owned the place and he most definitely didn't even think about knocking.

He didn't look like a client. He was way too calm and confident, way too elegant to be one. No, he was something new and unique, someone who you immediately notice even in a room full of people because of the lingering elegance and confidence - because even the air changes when he steps in the room.

After looking around the flat his gaze stopped and he looked directly at her for the very first time. She held his gaze, not giving in on the sudden game, but her stomach tightened in fear, a fear she only felt when she was in a room with Sherlock Holmes, knowing he'll deduce her and know about the things she doesn't want him to know.

"Hi..." The greeting was so short and simple for a person like him, that she tilted her head a little in confusion. His voice was also slightly high pitched when he pronounced the 'I', but she quickly realized it was intentional.

"Sherlock isn't home... if he is who you are looking for." she said to him, thinking there was no way this man didn't come here to see Sherlock Holmes.

"I know. That's why I'm here."

For a moment she thought about telling him that John isn't home either, but then decided against it. He clearly isn't here to talk to John Watson. He's here to talk to her...

"I see." she looked away for a moment to think about what to do with him, but no idea came to mind. "Well then please have a seat. Although I wasn't expecting guests."

He accepted the invitation, taking a seat in Sherlock's armchair, while she tried to figure out who he was and what he wanted. Meanwhile the stranger leaned back and made himself comfortable, enjoying the situation and the fact that he is sitting in Sherlock's armchair.

He knows whose armchair he's sitting in - the realization hit her, only making the 'who is he' more interesting.

"Yes, you were." he spoke up so suddenly she had to shake her head a little.

"Excuse me?"

"You were expecting one guest or you were counting on one specific guest at least."

She looked at him again, pressuring her mind to think. He is someone important and he knows that as well. That was obvious. But important for who? Not for John. John wouldn't tolerate him at all - but Sherlock would. Sherlock would even appreciate all this act.

She tilted her head a little in realization.

"Moriarty? Good to know that now that name has a face." she noticed how his expression didn't change, even if he smiled at her realization - he was expecting it, for her to realize who he is. "May I know why you wanted to see me?"

"Just wanted to meet the ordinary people Sherlock keeps around."

"Ordinary?" she laughed. "You think ordinary people could live with Sherlock Holmes?"

"That doesn't make you less boring."

"Nor does it make you less annoying." she quickly answered, leaving the annoyance out of her voice. "Playing around with Sherlock, coming here uninvited. Next time send a message at least so I can prepare some tea."

His eyes shined up for a second as if for a short amount of time he was looking at something more interesting.

"Doesn't he annoy you? Keeping you from living on your boring, ordinary little life."

"Not really. I'm never bored at least. He keeps the boredom away."

"So loyal. Ordinary people can be so amusing, I should get myself one."

She just smiled at that.

"You really like to get under people's skin, don't you?"

"Of course I do, I mean that's the funniest part, isn't it?"

That's when she first noticed how he uses his body language when he's having fun - how his arms and shoulders are moving with him.

"I guess you're right. That can be funny, you should try it out more with Sherlock. It's enough if you play one note wrong on the violin."

But that wasn't his only memorable visit. No, all of his visits were more than memorable if she wanted to be honest. She could tell all of them apart, she could tell in which month they had accured...

He visited her many times, but he always sent her a message beforehand. A short one. Something like: 'I'm a street away dear.' or 'I hope the tea is ready.' But later on they became something more: 'I'd like to see you today.', 'I have a gift for you.' or 'You'll be out tonight.' She didn't dare to ask how he knows her number, how he knows so much about her - where she'll be, what she likes. It would've been unnecessary words and she wouldn't have gotten an answer.

So she kept her questions to herself - and she also kept their meetings for themselves. Even if Sherlock noticed the change in her behaviour and happily pointed it out, causing John to ask who she's meeting up with. Even if Mycroft pointed out that she had been out at night. Even if Mrs. Hudson nearly jumped out of her skin in happiness when both brothers accused her of dating someone.

But the most interesting one--

... the most interesting conversion they've ever had was special. Oh so very special.

He came without telling her about it beforehand, just like the first time they'd met. She was sitting in her armchair with her laptop in her lap, going through a victim's personal data to make a profile while Sherlock was too busy working on a much more interesting case. Apparently a triple suicide in one place isn't that interesting, at all.

She didn't hear him come in, but she noticed him standing in the doorway - because the door was once again, wide open. He just stood there in his Westwood suit, gloating in the fact that he had the element of surprise.

She looked up at him as she raised an eyebrow.

"You didn't call this time."

"I had business around here. I just decided to come in."

"Liar." she accused as she put the laptop aside and offered him Sherlock's armchair. "You knew they went out on a case, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. You enjoy working behind his back too much."

He took the offered seat and after he leaned back, he started to talk:

"Remember what I told you when we first met? About the loyal ordinary people?"

"Of course I do." she answered, half-offended that he thought so little of her. "You wanted to get yourself one."

"Yes, well you see dear, I changed my mind." once again, his body moved with his mood. "Maybe I shouldn't get myself an ordinary one, I mean they would bore me so easily. I think I'd be perfectly fine with a not so ordinary one."

She looked at him, trying to read him like she did so many times before that, but this time other than that smirk, she couldn't find out anything else. So she turned to examine his words, that's what was also interesting about Jim Moriarty, what he said and how he said it.

A not so ordinary one. How on Earth will he get one?

And then she realized that for Jim Moriarty, the hierarchy of the world is about ordinary and extraordinary people - and in that momemt he added the not so ordinary ones to the mix too. Even if he didn't like Sherlock, he accepted that he was like him - too clever, extraordinary. John was only, simply ordinary. Nothing more, maybe less. But he talked to her a lot. A whole lot without getting bored, without thinking about speaking to Sherlock directly so he could annoy him instead of her. He didn't gloat that he knew her and talked to her daily. For him she was middle class, she was that not so ordinary person.

She chuckled and stood up, deciding that she couldn't sit that through without moving.

"Oh no, you can't possibly think that I'd leave Sherlock for you." she shook her head in disbelief. "I mean I wouldn't be loyal, would I? What happened with loyality?"

"Ordinary people are loyal and loyality is boring." he leaned forward to pour some tea for himself, not really caring that Mrs. Hudson prepared that for John and Sherlock, and most definitely not him.

"Well then I must be really boring, because I won't just leave Baker Street."

"You don't have to leave to show you aren't loyal, darling, we've been talking for months without you telling about it to them." he leaned back again and took a sip from the tea.

"Yeah, well it's still a no thank you very much." she said as her chest rose and fell rapidly, her brain working as she thought about what he just said.

"No?"

"No. I mean why would I?" the question was left unanswered. "I'd only consider it if I'd-- own the fucking Crown Jewels."

She tried to think about something unrealistic to say, to show that her decision is unbreakable. But looking at him, she clearly chose the wrong thing.

Moriarty looked pleased instead of angry - and that grounded her into reality. She said something wrong. She could basically hear the cogs turn in his head.

"Well, in that case," he said as he got ready to leave. "I'll see you around, darling."

She was left there angry and sad, but the thing she didn't think about?

That a few days later she'd get a letter.

•••

"Goddamn it Sherlock, I told you to put the microscope away! I almost knocked it down and that's the only one we own!" she shouted as she put the said thing aside, saving it from a disaster.

"He's not home!" came the answer from John, who was sitting in his armchair watching the telly - or rather trying to find a channel worth watching.

"He's not?" she asked in disbelief. "And he went without either of us?"

"You know him. Once he wants to go somewhere he goes there with or without us."

She opened one of the cupboards to find two clean cups - the kind which hadn't met with blood, eyeballs or some kind of acid beforehand - and once she found some, she began to make some tea.

"Is the forest fruit one okay? We ran out of black tea."

"Yes, thank you."

"You owe me." she threatened jokingly. "Anything worth watching? We could watch some crime show now that Sherlock isn't here to spoil it." she offered.

"Good idea." came John's answer - she enjoyed watching shows and movies with him since he was the only normal person in the flat - him and maybe Mrs. Hudson, but even Mrs. Hudson's life was extraordinary. "One'll begin after the news."

"Fantastic." she said as she finished preparing the tea and walked into the living room with a silver tray.

And then John turned the news on - and she almost dropped the tray.

There he was. On the screen, in handcuffs as the officers took him away and he was smiling - more like grinning. It only took her a second to realize where he was - the Tower of London, where the damn Crown Jewels were kept.

God damn him. Both of them. Both Moriarty and Sherlock -- even John and Mycroft. All of them had to mess up her life and make it more exciting and interesting instead of boring. God damn her that she liked it.

The Crown Jewels. What did she say to him the last time they met? 'I'd only consider it if I'd own the fucking Crown Jewels.'

John looked surprised too. Not as much as she was, he didn't know she had been talking with the enemy. He didn't notice her shock thankfully and even if he did he must've thought it was a normal reaction.

"Moriarty-- that's Moriarty." he explained.

"I know." she said without thinking.

Before John could ask her how, she heard Mrs. Hudson call out her name from downstairs. She put the tray down quicker than usual, some tea was even spilt, and she was out of the flat in a heartbeat. She ran down the stairs, her heart beating fast.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson? Did something happen?" she asked.

"Oh, not at all dear, it's just my hips. John was kind enough to give me some painkillers, but I couldn't really walk up the stairs right now." the woman explained with the usual enthusiasm. "But a letter arrived for you a few seconds ago. The postman must've forgotten about it in the morning."

And there it was, in Mrs. Hudson's hand. An envelope, a beige coloured one - the very elegant kind.

She took it from her quickly and just by the envelope itself she knew who sent it. The penmanship was perfect. Her name was written on it in black ink, the letters were slim and long.

"Who is it from dear?"

She tore it open, her fingers ripping the paper and she took the folded letter out. With uneven heartbeat, she began to read it:

'My dear,

I hope you'll enjoy the show I put on in the Tower, I know I'll most certainly do.

The diamonds in the envelope are from the Crown Jewels, forgive for not being able to give you the whole thing, but otherwise the police would be knocking on your door. Still, now you own parts of them. Nine diamonds to be exact, I sincerly hope all of them are in the envelope - otherwise I'll have to skin someone after my trial.

A promise is a promise. Now consider my offer. I'll pick you up at 7 p.m. as soon as I'm out.

- J. M.

P.S.: I hope I'll see you in court.'

John shouted her name from upstairs, wondering why she ran. She ignored him and looked inside the envelope.

Nine diamonds. Nine of them, some bigger than the others, were shining in it.

Mrs. Hudson saw them too and she gasped in surprise.

"Oh my, you didn't tell me you had found yourself a man dear."

"I didn't know it up until now either, Mrs. Hudson."

"What is it?" John was standing on top of the staircase, looking at them with confusion.

"She has a boyfriend." Mrs. Hudson said happily, clapping her hands together.

"She has a what?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." she argued, her eyes still on the diamonds.

"What is it then?"

She didn't know how to feel or what to feel.

Deep down she felt like a real woman. A woman someone, a very special someone, wants to court. A woman who's looked at as someone interesting, important and worth stealing for. She was flattered. Truly.

On the other hand she felt scared and confused. Jim Moriarty was still Jim Moriarty, and she was still the girl from Baker Street. With him she'll never feel completely at ease or safe, there'll always be a wall standing between them what they'll never be able to cross.

But still...

He was so interesting.

She looked up at John as she put the envelope in her pocket.

"I have a date."

Mrs. Hudson laughed in happiness.

She turned towards the stairs, her brain completely blocking John's voice out as it worked and worked, trying to figure Jim out.

Jim. He was already Jim in her head.

Then a strange question appeared in big letters in her mind like a neon sign:

Why nine?

[cuffmeinblack]

A Library Defiled

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Summary: An tense encounter in the library shatters the barrier between friends and lovers. Tags: explicit | fingering | semi-public sex | friends to lovers 1.7k words

A/n: Just a quick smutty drabble from me but it's been a while since I wrote anything for Weasley Wednesday! I was inspired by this art which sent me slightly insane yesterday (help, he's so fucking tall).

The gold embossed spine winked down at your from its perch, far out of reach amongst the teetering heights of the stacks. Your instinct was to grab your wand and cast a quick summoning charm, but that idea fizzled out with a quick glance at your surroundings. The signs that Madam Scribner had hung earlier that year usually went ignored, but the stern librarian was only feet away now, shuffling through a cart of returned books. Forbidding the use of magic in a magical school was preposterous, though you could quite easily see Professor Black agreeing with her madness. No doubt it had been in response to that business with Cressida and her damned flying diary. 

You rolled your eyes before standing on tiptoes, fingers merely inches away from your prize, and yet it was to no avail. That extra height eluded you. The thought occurred to you to start climbing the shelves until the very book you needed was snatched from above.

“Wait, I-...”

“Is this what you wanted?”

You needn't have turned to discern who'd spoken—his voice was as familiar as his densely freckled face—but you fixed your face with a suitably irritated expression. You came face to face with his chin, having to crane your neck to meet the towering redhead’s eyes. Garreth held the book out for you with a smile that looked far too self satisfied for your liking.

“Yes, it is. Well done for being so tall,” you replied, casting another mutinous glance at the librarian. “How does she expect us to get anything down without using magic?”

“I think she'd be happy for nobody to touch the books ever again. However, I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress.” You could practically feel the implied flirtatious wink.

Shadow eclipsed your face, an arm braced against the shelf beside you. Your heart stuttered, arms clutching the book tightly to your chest like a shield in case the organ burst from your ribcage. The reaction he elicited wasn't new or unexpected—in fact, he played into it as much as he could these days. He knew how to stand, how to speak and what to say to send your heart racing, hoping that one day you would end the torturous game you played and let him fulfill those desires you both knew you held. The chase was fun but your patience and self restraint grew thinner with each passing day.

“Is that what I am?” you asked. Your voice quivered as you felt him envelop your back, his warmth seeping through your shirt. He ran hot like a furnace. You'd forgotten how to use your limbs, how to think; every sense was acutely aware and attuned to his movements. 

“You looked pretty distressed before I got here,” he chuckled, his mouth so very close to your ear. His fingers flexed against the wood, warm breath slipping down your collar. Another inch and his lips might brush your skin.

Garreth knew when to stop. This invisible boundary you'd drawn lay somewhere on the hair's breadth between your bodies. You still felt everything—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the copper curls that barely ghosted your forehead and his gaze lingering on your neck. 

Sweeping the hair away from that spot, you heard him inhale, dizzy from the slightest show of skin; not quite an invitation, only an enticement. If he insisted on teasing, you would repay him for his efforts. When he stepped closer you knew it had been foolish.

There was no more room between you anymore, only his muscled chest and the hint of softness at his midsection. “Are you going to let me leave or keep me pinned here forever?” you asked, hoping that the answer might be ‘yes’.

“I'm not stopping you.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket. He was quite correct—there to your right, was a route of escape. You could turn and leave, but your legs had suddenly atrophied. And then Garreth dipped his head further. To an outsider it might look as if he were whispering conspiratorially in your ear, his billowing robes and broad shoulders masking just how tightly your bodies pressed against each other. “You can go, or you can stop pretending not to want this,” he said.

“And what is this, exactly?”

Garreth shifted his weight ever so slightly, enough for you to feel an unmistakable twitch in his trousers. Cheeks blazing, you inhaled sharply whilst suppressing a whimper, clutching the book so tightly you thought the spine might crumble.

“You drive me crazy,” he replied with what could only be described as longing lacing his voice. Garreth wasn't the type of person to manipulate others; you knew he was being sincere. “Just give me a chance to love you.”

You finally looked at him then, shocked to hear that word slipping from his lips. He didn't seem to have noticed, or perhaps he held no shame in laying his heart on the line for you then. His eyes were full and earnest, unwavering as they held your gaze. In response to your shocked silence he asked, “Did you think I just wanted to sleep with you?” 

“Maybe,” you muttered. Despite every rational thought imploring you not to, your eyes dropped to his lips, and his own quirked into a smile at his victory. When he kissed you, he finally let go of the shelf to tilt your chin to meet him. The hand in his pocket came to encircle your waist, swivelling you around to face him. The book you'd held as a shield that signified the final barrier between your coupling fell to the floor with a thud as you gave into him completely. 

Your heart pounded so fiercely you didn't hear Madam Scriber shouting or the students whistling—there was only Garreth and his gentle touch and soft lips, tongues swirling in an endless caress. The battle had been long-fought but your surrender had made winners of you both. The whimper you'd forced down threatened to escape the tighter he held you, the longer his tongue teased your lower lip. 

Perhaps it had been a blessing when the librarian broke her own rule and blasted a hex at the pair of you, rendering you speechless and unable to move. Saving you from further embarrassment had been a steep price to pay and had made Madam Scribner enemy number one.

-

A month later, you found yourself in that very same spot again, except this time it was under the cover of darkness. Tonight you would exact your revenge on Madam Scribner by defiling her precious library. The room was still and blissfully quiet except for the rustle of fabric and lustful moans that spilled from your own mouth. Garreth's lips were just as sweet as that fateful day one month prior, his hand braced again on the shelf next to you—but this time his slick fingers teased your clit with precision as you pressed against his chest. 

Your head fell back on his shoulder, back arching into his touch as the circles grew faster and tighter. You whimpered unbidden, met by a breathy chuckle in your ear before Garreth's mouth returned to your neck. You guessed there would be purple bruises there tomorrow, by the way your skin now tingled and stung so deliciously.

“Fuck, Garreth…” Stars perforated your vision as every drop of blood rushed south, preparing for a mind-shattering orgasm only minutes after your arrival. Everything was so intense, so passionate with Garreth; years of tension finally culminating in the moments you joined bodies.

“That's it, let it go,” he whispered in your ear, silky smooth and commanding. “Come for me.”

You gripped his hair as those final slippery strokes sent you over the edge, coming hard with a loud moan that echoed along the rows of books. If they could talk, they'd have quite the tale to tell. Your thighs clenched around his hand, hips grinding against his fingers. His cock was already nudging against your behind whilst you writhed in the throes of pleasure.

“I can’t wait to be inside you. Fuck, you’re so wet.” Another nudge from his stiff length, his arm abandoning the shelf to hold you tight against him. You’d barely caught your breath before Garreth was tilting you forward, angling your hips just right as he slid between your folds. “This is exactly what I wanted to do to you that day, you know.” His voice had become gravelly, laced with want. His cock twitched eagerly at your entrance.

“I wanted it, too,” you sighed, gripping the shelf in front of you hard as books shifted and dust invaded your nostrils, yet nothing could overpower the heady aroma of musk that had you salivating at the thought of Garreth’s dripping cock. “Please…”

Garreth entered you in one swift motion, stretching you until you were blissfully full. He groaned and nipped at your ear, sending shivers down your spine before retreating and plunging back inside. Harder, faster, deeper; he fucked you until the books fell all around you and coherent sentences were a thing of the past. 

All you knew was him, and his name sighed to the heavens as he pulled your hair and bared your throat. The sting of your skin felt like promises, made to linger. He was everything, and he was yours.

Garreth’s long fingers trailed your collarbone under the open fabric of your shirt before wrapping around your throat. Calloused fingertips grazed your pulse and the corner of your jaw. You were close again; tension coiled so tight it almost hurt. He must have felt your body twitch, your muscles contract—he responded with a shuddering groan, his hips grinding relentlessly against your behind as he met his own release. 

Your climax followed soon after, every pulsing wave around his cock filling you further and further until you were dripping, happy and satiated.

The dim light of the cavernous room made for quite the relaxing atmosphere, and your eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as you came down from your high. You could have curled up there and slept, warm and safe in Garreth’s arms. 

He was busy nuzzling against the crook of your neck when he finally sighed contentedly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”