#to replace his fading soul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stvolanis · 5 months

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Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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lex-the-flex · 7 months

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Among the Thorns

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: Armed with the Plinth fortune at his side, Coriolanus Snow will stop at nothing to prove himself to you. Even destroying those who don’t deserve you.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning(s): HEAVY FLUFF and HEAVY ANGST, friends to lovers, Snow experiencing true love, Snow being a rich boy, moments of jealousy, brief betrayal + heartbreak, slight stalking, and minor character death.

A/N: Snow at the end of TBOSAS lives rent free in my head. If you are uncomfortable with ANY of the warnings, the DNI!! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Flecks of fresh and unfiltered snow begin to descend on the streets of the Capitol. Reflecting off the fountain’s never-ending streams, the faint ray of a rainbow crossed across the strong crowned feminine statue. Focusing on the tinted metallic statue, Coriolanus refused to blink, worried that he might miss the rainbow vanish in a satisfying mist. The water’s echo filled his ears, blocking out the various sounds of the populous city he calls home, freeing his mind from all distractions.

Closing his eyes to muffle out the noise from the various cars, the world seemed to stop. While the haunting recollections of Lucy Gray Baird finally seemed to fade, they were replaced with thoughts and visions of you.

How could he have forgotten you?

To Coriolanus, it was a crime to have the thought of your face wiped from his mind, to have all of your shared memories vanish in the blink of an eye. But now, in this moment, his life was different. And he was sure you were too.

He just had to find you first.

*****

Walking through the downtown district, the crisp cool air lingered for a while longer as the sun was beginning to set in the distance. Rubbing his hands together, Coriolanus could not seem to focus on anything else. Winning the Plinth Prize, moving Tigris and Grandma’am into the Penthouse apartment, the excitement of starting University, and now you.

Glancing ahead down the bustling shops and restaurants, Coriolanus began to notice how the Capitol slowly started to heal within the post-war status. The citizens were thriving with the victory of the 10th Hunger Games, which made the young man happy in some way.

Rounding the corner in the heart of downtown, Coriolanus stopped at the curb, allowing a group of freshman Academy students to keep up with their tour guide. Smirking at their red uniforms, Coriolanus smirks at each of the students, who were eager to start studying within the week. Watching the students continue on, his breath was caught in his throat at the sight of you.

Glancing at you from afar, you were sitting on one of the various benches, with a book in your hand. Noticing that you were alone, he confidently made his way across the street. Noticing the state of your physique, his heart fluttered in his chest once he got closer; your high quality coat was perfectly draped over your shoulders, covering your best dressed self. With your hair in a low bun, some loose strands hung in front your ears, flowing in the breeze.

“Y/N, is that you?” Coriolanus asked.

Gazing up from your sketchbook, your face erupted in delight at the sight of an old friend.

“Coriolanus Snow, as I live and breathe! Our champion of the 10th Hunger Games!” You exclaim, standing from the bench.

Pulling you in for an embrace, Coriolanus fully closed his arms around your form, enjoying this moment of reprieve whilst the world allowed you two to be alone. Standing on your toes, the rhythmic pounding of his heartbeat rings in your ear, and the feeling of your fingers gripping his shoulders sends a series of butterflies in his stomach.

Breaking the embrace, Coriolanus’ hands slide down your arms, and the two of you get a real good look at one another.

good look at one another.

The infinite gaze of his icy blue eyes stare directly into your soul, causing your knees to tremble. Leaning in closer, Coriolanus carefully caresses your jaw making your breath hitch in your throat. Unfortunately, this feeling of relief doesn’t last long just as the appearance of your classmate, Mattias, crosses your peripheral vision.

Quickly backing away from Coriolanus, the pressure of your hands still lingers on his arms as you wave to your friend.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N. Biology ran late.” Mattias apologizes.

Silently sneering at Mattias, something about him just doesn’t sit right with Coriolanus. It wasn’t his nerdy, yet kind nature, it was that he was with you.

“It’s alright. I’m not too keen on going home. The Inventory arrived this afternoon.” You say, looking at Coriolanus.

“Inventory?” He asks, folding his hands.

Mattias scrunches his eyebrows at Coriolanus’ sharp demeanor.

“My aunt can never decide on which gemstone she wants for the season, so she requests to have a private showing in our apartment every. single. year.” You explain, scrunching your temple.

“Why not just take the train to One? It’s only an hour out.” Coriolanus asks.

“You don’t remember how she is, Coryo? She’s a neat freak, everything has to be perfect. Down to the necklaces she wears at any occasion.” You reply, adjusting your coat.

“Wait, I thought you going to be apartment hunting?” Mattias asks, crossing his arms.

“I have an appointment tomorrow morning. Then I have to hand in my thesis to Professor Demigloss. You say.

“Apartment hunting? You’re moving away?” Coriolanus questions with a worried look.

“Just closer to the University. My aunt promised to come but I think she’ll be drowning in jewels when I walk in the front door.” You tease, nudging Mattias’ shoulder.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Your classmate replies.

*****

A yawn escapes your lips as you throw your Academy bag over your shoulder. Desperately needing coffee, the early morning sunlight feels wonderful despite the sleet. Descending the apartment building’s set of stairs, you stop in your tracks to see Coriolanus greeting you with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Coryo! What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Good morning to you too. I thought I’d come along and help you pick an apartment. Besides, there are a few great ones by the University.” He replies.

Taking your cup of coffee from him, you practically melt in the hot liquid’s delight.

“Then lead the way, Mr. Snow.” You reply.

Following Coriolanus through the heart of downtown, the two of you and the real estate agent tour the first apartment and it was perfect. It was a five minute walk to the University, the place was spacious and recently renovated, so everything was clean and new.

Allowing you to observe the place, you slowly start to wander around through the apartment, studying the dark marble walls in awe with your jaw on the floor. You’d never seen anything so peaceful in your life, even if it was in the middle of the city. Admiring the beautiful snow covered city from the kitchen window, Coriolanus secretly buys the apartment in his name, and puts the brand new set of keys in his coat pocket with a thankful smile.

Joining you at the window, the real estate agent takes their leave, closing the door behind them. The faint sound of car horns and the bustling sounds barely managed to leak through the window as you felt his gentle hand around your shoulder.

“What do you think?” He asks.

“This place is amazing. I know this is the first place and that I shouldn’t fall in love, but I have. Unfortunately, I think the rent is too high.” You reply.

Looking up at Coriolanus, he silently shares your sympathy, but then he reveals his surprise.

“What if you didn’t have too? This apartment is yours after all.” He says, planting the keys in your palm.

“Coryo, I can’t. This is too much.” You rebuttal, trying to hand the keys back.

“You can and you will. Just as long as we see each other at the University. That’s all the thanks I need, Y/N. I want you back in my life, especially after last year.” Coriolanus explains before checking out the rest of the apartment.

*****

Over the next few weeks of your winter break, you started to slowly move into your new apartment, and declined offers to hang out with your friends. The entrance exams for the University sit heavily on your shoulders every day. Despite being a mentor in the 10th Hunger Games, you were granted easy access into the University, but you still had to take the exam.

Once the results came in, your whole world sank the second you found out you failed. There was no way. You were one of the best students at the Academy, so why did you fail the exam? Rumors began to circle around regarding your relationships with Coriolanus and Mattias. So you decided to do some digging, you discovered that Mattias swapped your test scores with a defunct slip.

If he couldn’t have you, then no one could. Not even Coriolanus.

After you left the testing room, you decided that Mattias was dead to you right then and there.

Surrounding yourself with all of your favorite things, reading, sketching and baking your favorite desserts. However, only when you were measuring the ingredients for your beloved cinnamon sugar cookies, you were greeted with a knock on your door.

Opening the door, Coriolanus embraced you in his strong grasp, letting you finally release your emotions.

“I’m so sorry, Coryo. I’ve ruined your jacket.” You apologize, trying to wipe the few mascara streaks from his jacket.

“It’s alright. I just wanted to check up on you. Especially what Mattias did to you. It’s not right, Y/N and you know it.” He says, closing the door.

“I know. But I don’t care about him anymore. Mattias is dead to me.” You reply.

Returning to the kitchen, you start to mix the ingredients together, declaring your friendship with Mattias no longer matters.

“In more ways than one. He was a bad influence on you, Y/N. So you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Coriolanus says, leaning against the counter.

Suddenly, your entire body went numb and the echoing noise of your butter knife hitting the floor rings on your ears. Looking up at Coriolanus, you couldn’t believe what he said.

“What did you do, Coriolanus?!” You frantically ask.

Calmly taking your chin in his hand, his gentle facade returns as does his love for you.

“I did what I thought was right. You’re better off without him. You deserve someone who will love you unconditionally, Y/N. I can give you that if you let me.” Coriolanus explains.

Swiftly nodding, the faint scent of his aftershave lingers in your nose, and the sweet scent of peppermint grazes your lips as he kisses you for the first time in a long time.

snow taglist ~

@dreamliners

@xplore-the-unknwn

@princessismx

@caffess

@writing-fanics

@wetsandpaperroll

@aemvnd

@ghostfacd

@lovelybeesthings

@motley-baby

@nctizen1270

@notarabellasstuff

@victormydarling

@0hsweetnothin

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fanfic #coryo snow #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth

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qtboni · 1 year

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hai bonni <33 this is my first reqs 4u and im sry in advance if it's kinda of cringe 😭 (i came here from yr simon fic btw nd i luv ur writinggg) wht do u think abt simon being tired as hell coming back home from his mission and literally melts into reader's arms?

HELLO DEAR ANON ! thanks for requesting and no, it's not cringe dw i LOVE it. also ty for loving my writing that literally made my day sm >< enjoy this!

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: Simon melting into your arms after a rough day at work <//3

C/W: Entirely fluff + kisses

Simon had a long day at work and was feeling tired and stressed. He started his car and drove home, feeling the tension in his shoulders and back. As he pulled into his driveway, he saw you standing on the porch, waiting for him.

You smiled and walked towards him, your arms outstretched. Simon stumbled out of his car and into your arms, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He felt the tension in his body melt away as you held him close, your warmth and comfort surrounding him.

"Welcome home, Simon," you whispered, resting your head on his chest.

"Thanks." Simon replied, wrapping his arms around you and taking a deep breath.

The warmth of your body against his, your breathing against his ear, all of it was like a balm for his soul. He let go of the tension in his muscles and let himself melt into you. Your warmth and love surrounded him, making him feel safe and protected.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling you hug him tightly.

"I missed you," he breathed, his voice barely audible. "Missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Si'," you replied, your voice full of love.

For a moment, nothing else mattered but your embrace and the love that you shared. The weight of the world seemed to fade away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment. And in that moment, he knew that everything was going to be alright.

"Hey," you said, leading him towards the house. "Let's go inside, okay?"

You helped him inside, guiding him to the couch, where you could hear him release another deep sigh.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" you asked, sitting beside him. "Food? Um, what about some tea? I think that will help you loosen u-"

Simon reached for your hand and gently squeezed it. "Just you being here is enough, love." he replied.

"I'm always here for you, Simon," you said, giving his hand a squeeze back.

You leaned into his embrace, pressing a soft kiss against his stubble-roughened cheek. The gesture was gentle, yet full of meaning. Simon felt a warmth spreading from his cheek to the rest of his body, your love surrounding him like a blanket.

He closed his eyes and savored the moment, letting himself be fully present in your embrace. He could hear your heartbeat against his chest, and the sensation was soothing and calming.

You reached out and pulled his balaclava up, revealing his mouth. A quick peck and his face lit up with a smile, his eyes sparkling with joy.

You watched as he became more and more beaming, his mouth turning into a grin as you removed the balaclava. "There he is," you said softly, your voice filled with affection. You giggled, teasing him as you added, "My little baby soldier."

Simon's eyes were fixed on you, filled with a sense of pure adoration and love. He was grateful to have someone who accepted him for who he was, especially coming home from a long and difficult mission.

"Baby soldier?" He asked.

"Yeah, well, aren't you one, my love?"

"I am so not a baby soldier."

"Oh, damn you're right." You replied with faux surprise. You leaned into him, cupping his cheeks and squeezing them together.

Then you added, whispering as you do so, "You're my little baby lieutenant, aren't you, Si'?"

You feel Simon inhale and see him averting his gaze. You giggled at him and kissed both of his cheeks.

Simon cannot bring himself to retort any longer as he completely melts into your kisses and embrace. If you said he's a little baby lieutenant, then for god's sake, he is.

It was a moment of pure serenity, of pure love. And Simon knew that he would always cherish it, a beacon of solace in the midst of the chaos of the world.

And then, as if driven by an instinctive need to express the depth of his emotions, he pulled you closer, holding you in his arms, his touch firm and passionate.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. But there was no question about the sincerity of his words, the longing in his eyes as he looked at you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"I love you too," you replied, your own voice just as genuine. And with those words, Simon knew that everything was going to be alright.

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ahqkas · 26 days

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Y’know how doe eyes are suppose to be cute and when you stare at someone with doe eyes they look so cute? But what mattheo had a partner who had those doe eyes but instead of cute aura and stare. It’s an actual unsettling stare like from an angle their stare look darken and it kinda gives Mattheo a shiver. A bad and good one

-🍕

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

MATTHEO RIDDLE WASN’T EASILY UNNERVED. he thrived in the shadows, embraced the darker side of his family name, and found a strange comfort in the eerie silence of the dungeons. yet, there was one thing that could send a shiver down his spine — a single look from his partner's doe eyes.

your eyes were large and innocent, framed by long lashes that should have given you a sweet, almost naïve appearance. at first glance, you appeared harmless, radiating a charm that many found endearing. but mattheo had come to learn that your gaze held an unsettling power, something that lingered between the realms of innocence and something far darker.

it was during one of those late-night study sessions in the slytherin common room that he first noticed it. the firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows across the walls as you sat across from him, engrossed in your potions textbook. he had been watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips, when you suddenly looked up, your eyes locking with his.

for a moment, time seemed to freeze. the warmth of the room faded into the background, replaced by an inexplicable chill that ran down his spine. your eyes, wide and seemingly innocent, bore into his with an intensity that was almost predatory. it was as if you could see right through him, peeling back the layers of his soul to expose his deepest fears and desires to you.

a shiver, both good and bad, ran through him. it was a sensation he couldn't quite place — part fear, part fascination. your stare was magnetic, drawing him in even as it unsettled him. he found himself unable to look away, trapped in the depths of your gaze.

"mattheo, are you alright?" your voice broke the silence between the two of you, snapping him back to reality. the concern in your tone was genuine, yet there was a subtle undercurrent that kept him on edge.

he shook his head, trying to dispel the lingering unease. "yeah, i’m fine," he replied, his voice a bit strained. "just got lost in my thoughts for a moment."

you smiled, a small, gentle curve of your lips that did little to reassure him. "you should focus on your studies," you said softly, returning to your book.

as the weeks passed, mattheo became acutely aware of your unsettling stare. it haunted him during the day and lingered in his dreams at night. he found himself torn between the instinctual urge to flee and an irresistible pull that kept drawing him back to you.

one evening, as you both sat by the black lake, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the water, you turned to him with those eyes again. this time, the darkness in your gaze seemed even more pronounced, sending another shiver through him. he reached out, almost without thinking, and cupped your face in his hands.

"your eyes," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and trepidation. "they're . . . something else."

you leaned into his touch, your gaze never wavering. "do they frighten you, mattheo?" a hint of challenge was present in your voice.

the boy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of your stare. "they do," he admitted quietly. “but they also draw me in. i can't explain it."

"maybe that's because you see something in them that others don't. something that mirrors a part of you."

mattheo didn't respond, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. all he knew was that despite the unsettling nature of your gaze, he couldn't stay away. it was a paradox he was willing to embrace, even if it meant confronting the darker parts of himself reflected in your doe eyes.

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loki-cees-all · 7 months

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🐊 headcanons…

Picture it: You’re an Avenger. And dating Loki.

Of course, Steve would call an ‘urgent’ meeting on your birthday, effectively interrupting your plans. Loki isn’t pleased.

How will he make sure you enjoy your special day?

The Interruption {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / Cee and K's Glorious Birthday Bast Celebration Prompt List / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : It's your birthday, and Loki has one goal - to make sure you feel like the Queen that you are. So when Steve sends out a mysterious email about some kind of emergency, Loki decides to take care of it before you ever find out about it.

W/c : 2k words

Content/Warnings : Fluff, hints of smut, a smidgeon of angst.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Loki always dreamt pleasantly while you were near. His bed was a sacred place because of you, where love blossomed and nightmares faded, when laughter replaced tears and groans of pain morphed into moans of pleasure.

He always slept well while your naked bodies were tangled together, inhaling and exhaling in perfect sync, sharing warmth on cold nights in blissful uninterrupted slumber - except right now, an irritating beeping noise echoed against the walls over his dreams, incessantly increasing in volume and quickly becoming impossible to ignore.

The sound pulled him from his dreams, and he stirred underneath the weight of your sleeping body against his. Loki liked you there, with your arm draped around his waist, one leg curled around one of his, and your cheek pressed against his chest, completely passed out and without a single care in the world; it made him feel wanted, necessary, alive.

And you were in a particularly deep and divine slumber that morning, thanks to Loki’s ingenious plan of fucking you senseless the night before. But it went further than just the divinity of being intimate with the one he loved dearly, he just wanted to make sure that you slept long and well on the morning of your birthday.

Beep, beep. His eyes finally flickered open when he realized it was your phone making that sound, threatening to ruin the first of many gifts he was planning to give you today. He’d reminded you the night before to make sure it was silenced, but somehow, some kind of message was still sneaking its way through.

Cursing silently to himself, he stretched his arm out to grab the device from your nightstand, moving slowly and carefully in order to not rouse you. And just to be safe, Loki took his other hand and carefully threaded it through your hair to gently massage your scalp, hoping to keep you soothed, relaxed and unconscious.

You let out an incoherent murmur against his chest as he moved, but continued sleeping peacefully, and so Loki brought your phone closer to examine it. He absolutely despised these things, but a long time ago you had insisted on adding his likeness as an Alternate Appearance to your phone, using the justification that it might come in handy someday.

At the time he couldn’t imagine that it ever would - Loki suspected that you were just teasing him, trying to rile him up. But as his eyes scanned the preview on the screen, he was secretly grateful that you had: it was an electronic message from Steve Rogers, addressed to the entire Avengers team, to inform them of some kind of urgent matter that required a mandatory 8 am meeting.

A rage began to simmer deep in his soul. Regardless of what this “urgent matter” was - and Loki was sure that the Soldier was overreacting about it - it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Not when it was your birthday, and he had intended on spending the day worshiping you both in and out of his bed…

Loki returned the phone to the nightstand and wrapped both his arms around you, weighing his options. He could feign ignorance - neither of you saw the email because you were too busy loving each other. Or he could flat out tell Steve that neither of you were going to be available today. That it wasn’t your burden to bear…

But as his fingertips brushed against your soft skin and his lungs filled with the scent of your shampoo, Loki knew you wouldn’t be okay with that. You’d want to do your job, you’d want to help - no matter how inconvenient that was, or how much you deserved a break.

And Loki adored that about you…which is why he ultimately decided he was going to have to fix the problem, whatever it was, before you ever found out about it.

The phone had read 7:13 am before he put it back down, and Loki knew he had to work quickly. Pressing his lips to your temple and delicately cradling your head, he slowly rolled you over onto your back. You let out a groan of complaint as the movement gently stirred you awake.

“No, don’t get out of bed yet…” you murmured, frowning slightly as you reached to pull him closer.

Loki smiled as he settled his weight on top of you, loving the delicate but direct choice of words. He nudged his nose against yours as he spoke softly. “Ah, but I’ve got gifts that need their final touches in order to be perfect for you, darling…”

You sighed peacefully as you brought your hands to thread through his dark hair. “I don’t want gifts. I just want you…”

“You say that now…” Loki chuckled before giving you a slow, lingering, sensual kiss - one that was designed to lull you into submission. “But you’ll be singing a different tune once you see them…”

The kiss almost worked, but as your lips moved with his, Loki felt your fingernails gently dragging against his scalp and down the back of his neck. It was one of his weaknesses, never failing to immediately turn him on and get him going.

He moaned softly, and it turned into a low growl as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hips began to roll with yours, and there was nothing he wanted more than to spend it inside his bed, inside of you - but he had a mission to accomplish before that could happen.

Loki steeled his nerves and grabbed your wrists, extracting them from his curls and pulling his lips away from yours. “Vixen…didn’t you get enough last night?” he hissed softly, eyes narrowed in a display of restraint even as he met your playful grin with one of his own.

“You know I didn’t…”

“Mmm. You never do, do you?” he murmured as he shifted his weight on the bed, lifting his hips from yours and pressing your wrists into the pillow above your head.

Your lips parted to argue again, and Loki quickly placed his against your throat, exhaling heavily against your skin as he kissed and sucked. You whimpered in both pleasure and submission; Loki knew all of your weaknesses too.

“Just give me a little time, darling,” he whispered softly, trailing his lips up to your ear. “Then I promise, I’ll give you everything you deserve today…”

You nodded in agreement, and Loki smiled, pressing his lips to your temple. “Such a good girl, even on her birthday…”

Your eyelids fluttered open and closed in a haze as Loki rose from the bed and began to get dressed, deciding to do it manually instead of using his seidr, and choosing casual gray sweatpants and a hoodie to further cement the idea that there was nothing to be alarmed about just yet.

He could feel your gaze upon him as he moved, and he did his best to avoid looking back; he knew your naked form would be twisted enticingly in the silk sheets, your eyes half-lidded with desire as they usually were when you were alone.

Loki loved that about you, that you wanted him so openly; it was impossible to resist - and that was exactly why he needed to fend off the Soldier’s urgent request for an emergency meeting; you deserved to be revered every day, but you especially deserved it today.

“I suppose I’ll have to find some other ways of keeping myself entertained while you’re gone…” you sighed dramatically as Loki turned to reach for the door handle.

He grinned and looked back at you, stiffening at the sight of the demure smile gracing your features and your fingertips dipping between your thighs. “You can certainly get started, dear, but don’t you dare finish until I return…”

Loki winked before disappearing into the hallway, and he chuckled to himself as he heard you laugh and groan simultaneously. The door clicked shut, and he sighed heavily as shimmering emerald light descended from temple to toe, transforming the unconcerned clothing he had left wearing into his emerald and onyx battle leathers.

He wasn’t above using whatever intimidation tactics necessary in order to intimidate the Soldier into admitting that he was most definitely overreacting about this so-called urgent matter.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Deep down you knew that your attempts to delay or distract Loki from leaving wouldn’t work, but it was worth the try; Loki needed someone to keep him on his toes, and you loved that you could do that for him. But now he was gone, off on some mysterious errand, and even though it was supposedly for your birthday, uncertainty was beginning to creep in.

Loki was the God of Mischief, after all. Of Lies, and of Deceit. And even though you were sure he’d never do that to you, that he loved you deeply and truly, within every sense of the word, and to the point of needing to create new definitions for it -

He’d still left you alone on your birthday. The one time you hated being alone, when every solitary insecurity roared its ugly head and threatened to swallow you whole - why was everyone paying so much attention to you today? Why weren’t more people fawning over you?

How were you supposed to respond to the 20 birthday messages on your phone with genuine sincerity and gratitude? And why weren’t there 40 messages waiting for responses?

Were you spending the day in a way that didn’t seem like a waste? Were you doing too much? Not enough?

As tears filled your eyes, you tossed your phone back over to the nightstand. Telling yourself this was silly, you rolled over and pulled Loki’s silk sheets, still warm from his skin and drenched in his scent, tighter around your body and closed your eyes.

Loki would be back soon, you knew that. You were lying naked in his bed, left alone in his private sanctuary to wait for his return; that wasn’t insignificant to either of you. It meant something, it was important, and it was worth focusing on, but at some point it slipped away as you drifted between sleep and consciousness.

Eventually, the mattress dipped down beside you, and two warm hands were stirring you awake as they pulled you onto your back. Loki’s scent was stronger now, and you sighed peacefully as his lips pressed lazily along your throat.

“Mmm. You’re back…” you murmured with a smile as he settled his weight on top of you again. It felt so good to be cocooned with him, and you almost forgot that he’d even left in the first place.

“You know I wouldn’t stay away for too long…” Loki chuckled as he guided your hands to tangle in his hair. “This is where all my favorite belongings are…”

You laughed out loud, and as Loki captured your lips with his, your laughter turned into a deep moan. Your fingers curled in his dark curls, and he kissed you like he’d been away for days instead of an hour, like somehow he wasn’t sure he’d ever make it back to you.

And it was strange - his lips were cold, and he was shivering too; you’d never known him to shiver before…Your brow furrowed, and as if he sensed your confusion, his lips pulled away from yours. “Something wrong, love?” he murmured cautiously.

You gazed up at him, studying the conflicting expression etched on his features with your fingertips. “I’m fine - but you’re shivering. Are you alright?”

He smiled reassuringly, nodding his head towards the coffee table in the living area where two short taupe coffee cups and a small paper bag, presumably filled with cinnamon buns from The Clock Coffee Shop across the street, sat waiting on the coffee table for you. “Well, the café was quite hectic this morning, princess, and it is snowing outside. But I’ll try to be more efficient next year…”

You smiled at the idea that Loki was already planning on spending next year’s birthday worshiping you again.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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sentoooo · 25 days

Text

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ 'ʀᴏᴅᴇᴏ'

✭ pairing(s): boothill x afab reader

✩ inspo: need him

★ summary: you can't help but notice how hot your boyfriend is at the rodeo...

✧ a/n: mmghhfhh robocock

🗒 cw: SMUT, gn! afab reader (no use of breasts), porn with plot, dry humping, cunnilingus, manhandling, overstimulation, edging, facesitting, not proofread

✎ wc: 3.8k

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

Dates with Boothill were few and far between, and when you two are able to have one, it’s not necessarily the most glamorous. Case in point, you were at a dingy rodeo, standing near the railings as you watched some poor soul get tossed around like a ragdoll on the bull, clutching on for dear life for only 2 seconds. As spectators cheered and hollered around you, the wranglers did their best to calm the beast down and usher it out of the ring, the announcers chatting about the performance in a language you don’t understand. Due to the rodeo’s clearly small budget, no gear had been provided for the riders, you can’t help but cringe at the thought of the possible back pain of the rider, but that fades quickly as you finally start paying attention. You could care less about the other riders, and most likely, after the next, you’d probably leave.

The next rider being Boothill. You don’t have to worry about Boothill and his gear; he’s a big boy, and he can deal. If anything were to happen, he’d just have to ask his mechanics to buff it out. It’s the last ride, and the crowd is antsy. Chatting reaches a peak around you, as the smell of alcohol becomes more prominent. Your eyes fall to the stall below you, where Boothill’s stationed, hand on the railing, chatting away with the handlers. His attention is broken for just a second, looking up at you with a cocky grin, and a tip of his hat. His eyes linger, met with a soft smile from you.

The eye contact is fleeting, however, and the announcers pull him back to focus on what’s next. They rile the crowd up, talking so fast it makes your head spin, as if you were at an auction. The only word you catch is ‘Boothill’, of course, and when you look back down at him, he’s raring to go. The minute that gate opens, he lets go of the bar, his right hand up.

The bull bucks, left, then right, right again, and into a full circle. It’s miraculous how his hat has stayed atop his head with how violently the bull is throwing him around. His chin is tucked to his chest, knees pressed against the bull, spurs digging into the bull’s ribs. Beneath the rim of his hat, you can see that cocky grin, in fact, you can almost hear his laughter under all the cheering and muttering as he makes it past 2 seconds. The wranglers pace back and forth around the bull as it jumps, another left spin. It has to be the longest 8 seconds of your life, every time the bull’s hooves touch or kick up dust, your stomach tightens. You’re undoubtedly more nervous than he is, but that feeling is soon replaced with something else.

You don’t understand why, but watching him steady while the bull thrashes about, toothy grin unwavering, heel and knees tight, something stirs within you. The whole world goes quiet as you watch intently, biting at your lip as you try and fathom how you are attracted to this. Your face flushes, the people around you are too rowdy to notice how you’ve squeezed your legs, to abate the heat forming. Luckily, that action snaps you back to reality, and as the horn sounds above you, signaling that Boothill has made it to 8 seconds, he rides out a couple more. Finally, after about another second and a half, he lets go, falling to the ground and rolling back on his feet. The bull continues to buck, and the wranglers usher it back out of the ring.

The crowd cheers and hollers as he climbs up the railings, taking his hat off and waving with a triumphant grin. Some people around you grumble and move away while the announcers try to end off the show. Boothill looks directly towards you, and you must’ve given him the look, because he gives you a sultry smirk, one that screams ‘I'm gonna get my reward’. You can even hear him say it in your head, as you try and tear your gaze away. Alas, it’s futile, cause he shoots a wink at you, before putting his hat back on and tipping it towards you again. You can’t help but stare, really. It’s only when he walks out of the ring with the wranglers that you can look away.

. * 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You meet Boothill outside of the ring, the stars above dulled by the shabby street lamps that flickered weakly. As he walks up to you, he’s thumbing through the money he’s got, grumbling something about being scammed. Yet, when he sees you, he beams, as if he hadn’t been annoyed at how little he won.

“What’s the payout?” You ask, trying to look over the cash.

“Enough for a motel,” Boothill replies quickly, moving his hands away from you as if to hide the money. “That’s all that matters.”

Despite his complaining, his tone is heavy with implications. Truth is, he could care less about the cash. He’s never around one place long enough to really need their currency; save for enough for a round of drinks or two. He was much more interested in the adrenaline rush, or the substitute of it. Boothill has always been rough n’ rowdy, he didn’t mind being thrown around, especially now. He enjoys pushing his body to his limits. But, since you’ve come into his life, there’s a new thrill added to the list. Who cares about the money when he could have his head pressed between your thighs? You knew exactly where this was going. And it’s not like you mind.

“C’mon,” Boothill jerks his head in the direction of the motel he’s got in mind, that grin never leaving his face. “There’s one close to here.” You can tell he’s eager, as much as he does his best to hide it. His hand slips around your waist, squeezing your hip gently as he ushers you away from the venue. He’s quick to pull you away from the crowd forming outside, perhaps it is to slip away from any sore losers.

You follow his lead without complaint, after all, why not indulge? A date with Boothill is rare, a night with him even rarer. You can’t reel your mind in once it’s wandered back to the sight of Boothill on the bull. You have no idea why you were entranced and why it stoked the fire low in your belly, but it’d be quelled soon enough.

As honest and sometimes discrete Boothill may be, the quick walk to the motel is filled with all sorts of lingering touches. He hooks his thumb into the waistband of your pants, teasing lightly at your hip bone. He presses himself up against your side, whispering all sorts of sweet nothings and dirty words, or what he can, at least. His goal is to make you squirm, and squirm you do. Every heavy-lidded look, every breath, it serves to fan the flames of want, of need. And by the Aeons, he’s doing it. And doing it well, at that.

By the time you two make it to the motel, you’re essentially whipped. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, and it’s hard to keep your composure for much longer. You’re a blushing mess, and you can only hope the clerk doesn’t take notice of the way you’re clinging to Boothill, the way that you avert your gaze from anyone else, even the cowboy himself. It’s not that you’re embarrassed, it’s just… a while without his touch and his time, you’ve been left empty for a long time. It’s a hunger that you can’t satiate with your hands or even toys– which feels ironic, considering the definition of Boothill’s dick was essentially a toy. But you weren’t after his dick. No, it’s his mouth you missed.

As you reminisced, you hadn’t realized he had whisked you away to the room. But, he brings you back to reality with a bruising kiss, pushing you further into the room and slamming the door behind him. His eyes are shut tight, it seems he’s more keen on satiating the heat within him then you are. He cups your face as your hands find his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. Out of instinct, he begins to grind against you, even if it does nothing to abate his own desire. Regardless, he moans into the kiss. Perhaps it was some sort of phantom feeling, chasing after something he can’t quite feel. But that didn’t matter, no, not at all. What mattered was the feeling of your lips pressed against his, the way his hands tangle into your hair and pull ever so lightly, and the way you give him another moan in response.

As you begin to lose your breath, he finally pulls away. With a half-lidded gaze, his hands drift down to your waist. Wordlessly, he pushes himself closer once more, bending down ever so slightly and wrapping his arms underneath the curve of your ass, before essentially throwing you onto the bed. You yelp when your back meets the plush mattress, bouncing back slightly as the springs squeak underneath you.

Everything he does is hasty, it’s not that he’s rushing the moment, he’s just hungry… starved. He snakes his way in between your legs, arms caging you in, placed by your waist as he finally leans back down. Boothill’s face is flushed, lips parted as he pants slightly. He takes in another heavy breath before he closes the distance between you two again. He allows no room for words, only breathy moans and whimpers. This kiss is a lot shorter, it is more like an act of devouring your lips then anything, short ragged breaths escaping from the both of you in the split seconds that your lips part. Eventually, his lips make their way from your lips, down your chin, to your neck. His teeth graze your throat, causing you to sigh softly.

Oh, how you’ve missed this feeling. The sense of desperation that fills the air as you two rut against each other, the gasps and breaths that fill the space around you. As much as the space between you two feels like it could kill you, and how those nights wishing– even praying– to have Boothill in bed with you again are agonizing, these nights where desperation reigned supreme made up for it. Where you two could be at eachothers throats, ripping each other apart, exploring every inch of skin and metal once more. The nights where Boothill sinks his teeth into every inch of skin he can see, where you’re putty in his hands. It’s wonderful, letting everything go, allowing yourself to unravel. The touch you so desperately craved, metal and skin alike, honeyed words lost into a sea of bliss.

His cold hands slide up your shirt, anchoring you back into reality for a second time. His teeth sink into the crook of your neck, letting out a low hum as you whine. You arch your hips, but he pushes them back down, running his tongue along the definition of his bite. He murmurs something against your skin, the first words since you two have entered the room, and you can’t exactly make out what it is. Something like ‘stay put’, which you oblige to, regardless. His hands knead at the flesh, trailing his tongue along your shoulder where his teeth find home once more. He groans this time, as you close your eyes and roll your head back. He doesn’t even have your shirt off and you are soaked. You try to close your legs to stave off the heat build between them, however, his legs prevent you from doing that. You whimper slightly at this, which finally draws Boothill’s attention away from your neck and shoulders. He looks down between you with a smirk, and for a moment you swear you could see his eyes lock on.

“This what ya want?” Boothill asks, pressing his body closer, grinding his groin against yours. The friction makes you groan, arching your back once more. The friction is delicious, every press of his hips against yours fanning the flames of tension. It only serves as a temporary reprieve, but it feels good. You can only nod and babble out something that sounds like a ‘yeah’, pressing your hips up against his every moment they pull away.

It’s wonderful, the way that his cock slots in between your legs, and presses up against your clit, despite the barrier. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist, locking him closer. In your hazy dance, you feel as if you mourn every split second his cock doesn’t press against you. He can only chuckle at your desperation, pressing increasingly more feverish kisses against your neck, sometimes sucking, sometimes biting.

Boothill is drunk off all the little sounds you make, picking up the pace of his grinding, pressing you back into the mattress. He just can’t get enough, the way you raise your hips into him, wordlessly begging for more, the taste of your skin… Aeons, you’re addicting. He could care less about how little physical gratification he gets, to have you undone beneath him already is reward enough. Every moan from you earns a grunt of appreciation from him, throwing his head back. While you miss the warmth of his mouth against your skin, you aren’t necessarily disappointed with the view from below…

The heat in between your legs hits a fever pitch as you feel a coil tighten below your stomach. Your legs squeeze against Boothill’s, shutting your eyes tight and letting out a high pitched ‘mmh!’ as a warning. Boothill takes this as a sign to stop, to toy with you. Just as you feel like you’re about to unravel, he pulls away, leaving you feeling empty. You groan and reach up for him, wiggling a little underneath him as an attempt to allow yourself to finish.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Boothill tuts, stepping back. Before you can press your legs together, he catches your thigh with his hand, squeezing and the flesh. “Gotta wait. You can do that, yeah?”

All you manage is a weak nod, wanting so desperately to beg him to let you cum. That doesn’t mean you’ll be complacent though, you know he’s missed you just as much as you have, and you know he’s rather… impulsive. All you have to do is moan a little louder, say his name in a sweeter way, and you’ll have him weak in the knees. You’re so sure of it.

As you hatch your plan, Boothill takes his sweet time getting himself ready. He takes off his hat, setting it on the bedside table, before climbing up onto the bed. His knees pressed against your hips, stradling you. He’s got his cocky grin plastered to his face once more, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at your flushed face. You prop yourself up on your elbows, a silent challenge as you shift beneath him. His grin turns sultry, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, somehow softer from the hungry kisses from early, and he pulls away all too soon.

He doesn’t leave you wanting this time, though. You can tell by the way his eyebrows are barely furrowed, the way he starts chewing on his lip, and the slight narrow in his eyes that, good Aeons, he just cannot wait. That, and, the very obvious tent in his pants. Sure, he’s not adorned with the most ‘human’ bits, but he told the mechanic to make sure ‘it worked juuuust right’. But that’s not the focus here, no, the way he’s sliding down between your body, practically drooling as his head rests on your thigh.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Boothill grumbles as he fumbles with the button on your jeans. It takes him a full second to undo them, sliding them down to your ankles. You wiggle them off, just as he decides he’s too impatient and presses his mouth to your underwear, tongue flat against your pussy. You let out a stifled moan, hand instinctively tangling within his hair.

Boothill’s eyes flicker up to you, then close, his hands sliding up and anchoring you in place by your hips. He noses at your clit, lapping up whatever he can between your legs. He could care less about the barrier, really, you can feel his teeth grazing your clit every once in a while, which adds a whole new thrill to this experience as is. He wouldn’t bite, as he is prone to, he knows better.

In between hurried licks and sloppy sucks, getting what he can even through the barrier, he presses gentle kisses to your thighs, sometimes licking along your stretch marks. He does this to prolong the experience, granting himself some restraint, no matter how badly he wants to make you cum over and over and over in his mouth. You can tell how hard he’s trying to hold back, his fingertips digging into the plush of your hips, small exasperated grunts found their way in between his ministrations.

You tug on his hair softly, thighs pressed against either side of his face. He looks beautiful like this, face squished between your thighs, eyes closed, mouth open as he laps at your clothed folds. It’s a sight to behold, truly. Every lick causes you to whine, the rough feeling of your underwear pressing against you, pushing just a little further. His breath fans against your pussy, soft grunts and groans escaping his lips, providing a delicious vibrating sensation against your heat.

You feel the coil tightening once more, and silently pray to Lan that he won’t stop in your hazy mind. Your moans increase, letting out soft, high-pitched noises, tugging at his hair slightly. Boothill lets out a low, raspy laugh, hands pulling you closer harshly as if you weren’t close enough. He doesn’t pull away this time, lapping at your underwear at a near crazed pace, like he needs you to cum. And cum you do, your body arching as you dig your nails into his scalp, whimpering out his name.

He laps up your release, or what he can, growing increasingly agitated at what little he can taste through your underwear. Only then does he finally peel away the barrier, his fingers almost too quick. If he was still human, he’d be shaking. He is too quick to claim his place back at your pussy, his licks sloppy and greedy as he claims his prize. Each stripe licked up against your drooling pussy sends a tingling feeling up your spine, making you whine and try and push his head away. But he doesn’t stop.

When your thighs squeeze against his face, as if trying to block him away from such a precious well of ambrosia, his hands fall from your hips, snaking in between your thighs and pushing them open. He pants against your pussy, his warm breath fanning over it, causing you to shiver. You feel like you are… at his mercy, even if you’ve only came once. It is not a bad feeling, you yourself know you are putty in his hands, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

However, it seems Boothill is now unsatisfied with this position. He pulls away from you reluctantly, pushing you up further on the bed, and shimmying his way up onto the bed fully. Before you can even ask what he’s doing, he grabs you by the hips and rolls you over so you were on top of him, hauling you down easily. His mouth finds purchase on your pussy so easily, lapping at it eagerly.

You don’t dare to even move, simply arching your back as you press your hands into his abdomen to keep yourself up. All sorts of lewd noises come from his throat as he continues his ministrations, staring right up at you with a near challenging look. He alternates between licking and suckling on your clit, hungry growls filling the space in between grunts as if having you press flush against his mouth was not enough.

You can feel overstimulation creep up on you, while his actions don’t hurt, it’s starting to tingle a little, providing a comfortably numb feeling alongside the pleasure that wells between your legs once more. Your body heats up more than you thought it could, and slowly your hips follow Boothill’s tongue. It’s not long until you start to grind against his mouth fully, his nose notching against your clit when he wasn’t sucking on it.

“Ya forkin’ like that?” Boothill asks, muffled, before diving back in once more, his hands pulling your hips down even more, pressing you into his mouth. “F-Fudge… So gosh dang good…”

You’d be poking fun at his censorship, but you just can’t help the moans that roll off your tongue. You can’t help but chase after it, your orgasm already gripping you. Your thighs tense and you groan, rolling your head back and cumming onto Boothill’s tongue once more. But he wasn’t done. Your hips jolt as his eating becomes even more hungry, sloppy, the need to ravage you taking hold. What a beautiful aphrodisiac you are, how he would love to drown in between your thighs.

But you stop him from that dream, unfortunately. The numb feeling gave way to an odd hurt, something that felt almost electric. Your hips buck as your body tenses, doing what you can to pull away from Boothill’s iron grip. Eventually, he loosens, his hands coming down onto your thighs, and you raise your pussy from his lips. Slimy tendrils of spit and slick connect his mouth to you, his chin covered in your slick. He grins up at you, eyes practically sparkling.

“M’sorry,” He starts, squeezing your thighs. “Taste too good. Got ahead of m’self.”

You can’t help but admire the sight beneath you, Boothill’s flushed face, happy as can be, as if he had just won the world. Before he lets you go, he leans in, pressing a heated kiss to your clit, pulling back. He changes his mind quickly though, now peppering your folds with more kisses until you shuffle off of him. At that, he lets out a low, mock annoyed groan, before sitting back up.

You sit on his stomach, your slick painting his abdomen, your ass pressed up against the erection pressing against his tight jeans. He doesn’t move to relieve it, he could really care less about it. He’d already taken what he wanted– more like what he deserved– and he was sated. Unless you were game to give him more…

#⁺◟sentooo #boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut

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thisolrubyriderr · 1 month

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gojo nation we MUST stick together so here’s some happy satoru

One thing you loved most about Satoru Gojo, aside from his many lovable qualities, was how much he loved being loved.

He loved they way you would indulge in his silliness, the way you’d get cuteness aggression over him, the way you’d stop whatever it is you’re doing just to cuddle him because god you just can’t get enough of him. Being the strongest was nothing but a side job when he was with you.

Gojo was snuggled up to you on the couch. His face smushed against your chest as you massaged your fingers through his fluffy hair. You could practically hear him purring like a kitten out of contentment. He was being a bit more of a baby than usual today, but you’d be a fool to act like you didn’t love it.

“Y/nnnnn,” the man whined as he turned to look at you with his pretty blue eyes, resting his chin on your chest, “Entertain me!”

You didn’t respond but instead you held his face in your palms and squished his cheeks. You kissed his lips as they poked out from his little face.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” He said in a muffled voice. He attempted to pout but it faded the second he heard your sweet laughter.

“I’m sorry bunny but I couldn’t resist. What do you want to do?” you said to him softly.

“I- ”

Before he could even begin his sentence, you squeezed him. You pulled this 6’3 man up closer to your face and squeezed him, pressing your cheek against his. You don’t know what came over you or what super strength you suddenly possessed to move your log of a boyfriend, but you did it.

You gently shook him as you held him in a bear hug. You placed sloppy kisses all over his cheeks. You bit him. You tickled him. He was just so adorable and you loved him so much. You wanted to fling him around like a chew toy.

“Baby whahaha what’s going ohohon?” Satoru giggled as you tickled him. His laughter was so sweet it made you wanna keep going, but you stopped so you could place both your hands in his hair.

“I can’t help it Toru! You just look like a little sweet potato! I love you soooo much I just wanna eat you.” You said, reveling in the sound of his purrs once you started playing with his hair again.

“Sweets you know I’d let you eat me any day. I’m sure I taste as good as I look.” Satoru smirked. He was soaking up all the attention you were giving him and he was absolutely loving it.

He rolled over on his back and you were now on top of him. You took your time to admire him in this position. He looked so at peace with you. You could tell he was happy, and that’s all you ever wanted for him. If you couldn’t give him anything, you’d do anything to give him happiness. To the world he was nothing but a weapon that wasn’t valued for anything other than his abilities. But you saw past that. You saw his soul, everything that made him a human. He was never the strongest to you. He was your Toru. He was your stinky. He was your mochi poo. He was just Satoru. And that would always be more than enough for you.

“Hey you,” he poked your cheek, bringing you out of your thoughts, “why’d you stop? Keep loving me!”

And who were you to deny him of what he deserved?

“Of course sweet pea.” You chuckled, pushing his hair back to kiss his forehead.

You continued to kiss his features, then lightly tracing them with your fingers. Satoru was so content and relaxed that he drifted off into a light slumber with a smile on his face, replacing it with a pout whenever he felt the absence of your touch. He may have known that he was a big baby, spoiled from all your love, and clingy as hell. But there was one thing he may not have known that you wished every day and night he did. What it was you may ask?

You would let the world burn for him.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #my baby deserved better #fuck you gege

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝐵 𝐿 𝐿 𝐾 𝑀 𝑒 𝑛 𝑥 𝐹 𝑒 𝑚 𝑅 𝑒 𝑎 𝑑 𝑒 𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘠𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘪, 𝘔𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘶, 𝘙𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘢𝘦, 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘦, 𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘪, 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘰, 𝘚𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰, 𝘙𝘦𝘰, 𝘔𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶 <3

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 | 潔世 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

With trembling hands, he gently held her face, His eyes reflecting love's eternal grace, He leaned in closer, heart ablaze, Anticipating her touch, his soul would raze. Her lips parted, soft as morning dew, A sweet surrender, a dream come true, He tasted bliss, a moment pure, Time stood still, as souls entwined, secure. As seconds stretched into a timeless flight, Their kiss ignited a passionate light, Whispers of love danced upon their breath, A symphony of hearts, a bond till death. The world melted away, they were lost in embrace, Two souls united, forever entwined in grace, With every gentle touch, their love grew strong, A kiss that promised eternity's song. And when the final moment arrived, too soon, Their lips reluctantly parted, a lingering tune, The taste of love still lingered on their tongues, A memory etched, a story forever sung.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 | 蜂ばち楽 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬

He meets her gaze, a lover's plea, Her eyes reflect his soul's bright utter, A symphony of love, for all to see. His lips descend, a gentle touch, Soft as petals 'gainst the summer air, A whisper of devotion, so much, A promise sealed beyond compare. Her breath catches, a moment so pure, As his lips linger, a timeless delight, A tapestry of emotions, secure, Woven together by love's gentle might. With each lingering second, love's embrace, Strengthens the bond they hold so dear, Their souls entwine, time and space, A timeless kiss, banishing all fear.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 | 凛りん ─ 𓐐𓎩 . ♡𝆬

He gently leaned, a stolen delight. Her lips parted, soft like summer rain, As their souls entwined, a sweet refrain. Like petals unfurling in the gentle breeze, Their kiss was a promise, a timeless ease. Every touch a language, unspoken and deep, A symphony of emotions, a love they'd keep. Time seemed to stand still, a moment enshrined, In the sacred realm where their spirits combined. The world melted away, replaced by a flame, A burning desire that consumed their every frame. With each passing second, the kiss grew more bold, A stolen treasure that they would forever hold. Their hearts pounding with anticipation and awe, As they poured their souls into each tender draw. Like a whirlpool of emotions, the kiss spiraled high, A vortex of passion that reached for the sky. In that sacred embrace, they found their release, Their love ignited, a radiant masterpiece.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 | 冴さえ ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬

With reverence, he traced her curves so fine, Each touch a whisper, sweet and crystalline. Her eyes, like stars, reflected his desire, A symphony of passion, an ethereal fire. His lips descended, soft as petals strewn, Upon her own, a moment to swoon. Their souls intertwined, a tapestry of bliss, As time stood still with each stolen kiss. With every touch, a ripple of delight, A promise etched in shadows of the night. Her breath entwined with his, a gentle sigh, As love's sweet melody soared ever high. The world around them faded into haze, Lost in the depths of their intimate maze. A single kiss, a stolen moment's bliss, A testament to love's timeless abyss.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 | 練れん ─ ☘︎ . ♡𝆬

He moved towards her, soft and slow, Her lips, a petal's tender kiss, Inviting him to taste the bliss. As dawn's first blush began to gleam, Their lips met, a tender dream, A fusion of souls, sweet and divine, A testament to love's unmatched shine. With gentle pressure, he drew her close, In silent concord, their emotions rose, The cosmos whispered, 'This is true,' Love's potent elixir, pure and new. The world outside faded from their sight, As they reveled in the purest delight, Their hearts had found their perfect match, A bond unbreakable, a timeless catch.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐇𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐈 | 千切豹馬 ─ 𓆉 . ♡𝆬

With trembling lips, he leaned in, slow and sweet, His gaze a flame that burned with love discreet. Her eyes sparkled like stars, reflecting his intent, As their breaths mingled, an unspoken sentiment. His lips brushed hers, sending shivers through her soul, A moment frozen, the world losing its toll. Time stood still, as if in a celestial dance, Where the symphony of their hearts played a tender trance. Each gentle touch, a caress to behold, A language whispered, a story yet untold. With each passing second, their love took flight, As their souls entwined, bathed in celestial light. He whispered words of adoration into her ear, Promises of forever, as clear as the tear. Her laugh tinkled like windchimes, pure and sweet, As they shared a kiss that banished all bittersweet.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐎 | 龍聖 ─ 𓆤 . ♡𝆬

Their lips entwined in sweet embrace, A symphony of love's gentle grace. Time stood still as they lost themselves, In the depths of longing's priceless wealth. The kiss was a tempestuous storm, Raging with emotions that couldn't be borne. It whispered secrets too sacred to tell, As their souls soared together, free from hell. With every touch, their hearts ignited, Embers of desire, brightly cited. Their bodies melted into one, A testament to love forever begun. The kiss lingered, a timeless bliss, A moment etched in love's abyss. When they parted, their gazes met, Their hearts filled with a love that had no sunset.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 | 凪なぎ誠 ─ 𖤣𖥧 . ♡𝆬

His breath held captive, emotions aglow. Her eyes, a beacon, guide his way, Promising a love that knows no sway. Her lips, a whispered invitation sweet, A sanctuary where their souls shall meet. He leans forward, time slows its flight, As their first kiss ignites the starry night. Soft as petals, his touch takes hold, Melting away all barriers untold. In that moment, the world fades away, Leaving only love's enchanting sway. Their lips dance together, lost in bliss, A symphony of passion's purest kiss. Each touch, a gentle whisper in the air, A testament to love that knows no despair.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎 | 御影玲王 ─ ✉ . ♡𝆬

With lips of velvet, soft as air, He brushed against her, banishing care, A moment suspended, time stood still, As passion's fire began to fill. Her breath entwined with his so sweet, A symphony of hearts, their spirits meet, Each kiss a whisper, soft and low, A secret language they both did know. Like petals kissed by morning dew, Their bodies swayed, their love grew, A gentle touch that set their souls alight, A tapestry of passion, painted in flight. As stars above began to glimmer, Their love burned brighter than a winter, A kiss that sealed their eternal bond, A sanctuary of bliss, never to be fond.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐋 | カイザー ─ ☆ . ♡𝆬

With every touch, a symphony arose, Whispering sweet nothings, banishing all woes. The air grew misty, laden with desire, As love's embrace set souls afire. His breath mingled with hers, a stolen quest, A moment frozen in time's tranquil rest. Like fluttering wings, his lips moved low, Tender words whispered, a heart's gentle flow. He kissed her with a fervor chaste and true, A symphony of emotion, old and new. Her body swayed with grace, a yielding flower, Lost in his caress, enveloped in his power. As lips met lips, a spark ignited bright, A fusion of two souls, bathed in purest light. The world around them faded into naught, Only love remained, a vibrant, lasting thought.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔 | 照英 ─ ♬ . ♡𝆬

He holds her tight, as if she'll slip away, His kisses branding her with love's fierce sway. Each touch, a battle cry, a plea to stay, In this realm where love and danger sway. Her lips respond, meeting his with equal force, A storm within a storm, their wills clashing with course. Their kisses dance amidst the chaos, wild and free, A raw symphony of desire, a tale to be told with glee. In each embrace, a battle's aftermath, Their hearts sore yet satisfied, their passion's path. For in this rough guy's kiss, a beauty found, A love that defies the boundaries, knows no bound.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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slu7formen · 3 months

Note

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan blurb #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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laurfilijames · 4 months

Text

Under His Kutte

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Sending a nude photo. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: When Jax forgets his kutte at your house, you make good use of it.

A/N: I am such a slut for this man especially when he wears a hat, and particularly when it's backwards. I stared at this photo for too long and needed to write about it, and with the help from @ramadiiiisme, this happened. Bonus action of The Hat™️ at the end 🫠

---

The same flustered excitement you felt in your stomach every time you saw Jax stirred up again despite having only said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the benefits of him having accidentally left his kutte behind continuing to grace you.

You placed it back on the sofa where he had carelessly discarded it last night, pretending as though you hadn’t seen it there as soon as you walked out of your bedroom earlier that morning, his rush to leave after being woken up by a phone call from Chibs making him forget his most treasured item of clothing.

You sat on the barstool at the kitchen island, sipping from a cup of coffee you had been nursing, smiling into the mug when you heard your door open and Jax strut through it as confidently and comfortably as usual.

“I left my kutte,” he explained, getting right to the point while glancing around your living room quickly, lifting up the blanket and a pillow off of the loveseat before spinning on the spot to begin his search of the sofa.

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t noticed,” you lied, your cheeks feeling a flush that was partly from the heat of the coffee but mostly from the sight of Jax. He had his Reaper Crew hat on backwards, sunglasses still on, and the sunshine had kissed the skin on his face to tint it with a healthy pink that was the same whenever he was fucking you.

Finally locating it, Jax held up his vest with a smile before shrugging it on and walking over to you, his smile bright and playful, and you knew his eyes held the same sparkle behind the black lenses that covered them that you could never forget.

He leaned down and kissed you, bracing his arms on either side of your body to land on the countertop and cage you in, forcing your body to arch back into it as he delved his tongue deep inside your mouth.

You hummed when he peeled himself away from you, your eyes feeling heavy with lust as you watched him lick his lips.

“Did you forget it on purpose?” you teased, slipping your hands beneath the leather panels to feel the warmth radiating off his body through his layers of faded shirts.

He chuckled, his hands reaching up to cup your face while he nudged your legs apart with his, standing close to you where he was able to grind his hips against you.

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?”

You giggled when he grinned at you before capturing your lips again, pressing his bulge into your core to make you moan into his mouth, the fervor of your kiss growing with each pass of your tongues.

“Fuck!” he hissed, backing away from you but still holding your face in his hands. “I gotta go.”

You breathed out a disappointed sigh, tilting your head to the side as you watched him step away and try to collect himself, hoping he’d convince himself to stay for a hard and fast fuck.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he dug to answer it immediately, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Yeah, I’ll be right there. I said I’ll be right there…Five minutes! Jesus Christ.”

Jax flipped it shut and shook his head as he replaced it back in his pocket, closing the distance between you again with another smile on his face as soon as he looked at you.

“I’ll see you later.” he spoke sweetly, his tone completely different from the one he had just used to whatever poor soul had called him.

You nodded, smiling again as he kissed you once, then again, chuckling when he finally found the strength to stop and back away from you.

He stormed through to the front door in a few long strides, giving you one last grin as he shut the door behind him, and you grinned to yourself as you picked up your phone and sent him the photo you had taken just after he had called you to say he was stopping by.

You listened for the roar of his Harley to start up, feeling giddy as you waited to see if he checked his phone before taking off.

Standing, you walked over to the window, seeing him sitting on his bike looking at his phone with a huge smile on his face.

Your phone rang, his name and number lighting up the screen, and you answered through a smile so big it hurt your cheeks, “Did you forget something else?”

“Are you kidding me?” he asked, his amusement clear in his voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, how am I going to focus on anything now?”

“It’s just a little something to get you back here.”

“Like I need the help,” he said pointedly, starting his bike where it purred loudly through both the phone and the walls of your house.

“I’ll be back to deal with you soon,” he both promised and threatened, making heat surge through your body like wildfire.

“See you later, Teller.”

You hung up, tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off your smile as you looked at the photo you had sent again, feeling more than satisfied with the reaction it had gotten out of him.

You wore nothing but his kutte, your body that he had already made tired and sore from a sleepless night on full display under his leather, the bare skin on your chest bearing the claiming marks left by his mouth.

He took off quickly, his engine rumbling so loud it vibrated the house and sent a shiver down your spine, and you hoped whatever it was he was going to do was done quickly so he could get back to you soon.

You did everything you could think of to occupy yourself; laundry, dishes, even baked muffins and whipped up a casserole, knowing Jax would be hungry when he got there, or if he wasn’t, that he would be made hungry from all the things you did whenever you were together.

The impatience you felt was beginning to outgrow your arousal, the desperation in wanting to have your hands on him and his on you becoming too much to stand any longer.

Not two minutes later did you hear the distant grumble of his Harley tearing through your neighbourhood, your body conditioned over time to respond to that sound and awaken a neediness and desire that never seemed to be sated.

Even though you expected it, you still jumped when Jax barrelled through the door with a hungry and desperate look on his face as he stared you down while kicking off his white sneakers, his grin sly and crooked.

“Why the fuck aren’t you naked yet?” he panted, crossing the room to get to where you stood waiting for him.

“Isn’t half the fun undressing me?”

“Yeah, but when I’ve been staring at that pic you sent me all day, I kinda want to get to the point,” he explained, his eyebrows lifting upward while he tugged his jeans down to the floor.

He still had his ball cap on, worn with the bill of it facing forward this time, the shade casting on his face making his blue eyes glow like flames in the shadow.

Jax slipped his kutte off, placing it carefully on the back of the sofa as if making a point that he knew where it was or would be needing it again soon, and stepped toward you, tipping his head and giving you a piercing look.

“Now, get naked.”

You obeyed with a grin, crossing your arms to grab at the hem of his ‘SAMCRO’ t-shirt, pulling it over your head where you had the satisfaction of hearing Jax’s breath hitch when your tits became exposed, and tossed it on the floor beside you.

Remaining in your panties, you went to assist him with his clothes, only to have him grip your wrists, his long fingers wrapping around them securely.

“That’s not naked, sweetheart.”

You glared at him as he released you, making a point to slowly hook your thumbs in the waist of them and inch by torturous inch, crept them down your hips.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed impatiently, even though he was still smiling.

A furious look flashed in his eyes when you pulled them back up to their rightful place, challenging what he would do, and you gasped in equal shock and fear when he grabbed onto your thong and tore them roughly down your thighs.

He crashed against your lips, kissing you with a demand that reminded you that he wasn’t playing games, your body flinching when his fingers trailed along your hip and to your soaked pussy.

Spreading your legs further apart, you moaned into his mouth, rocking on his hand as he drove two fingers inside you, hooking them to massage your g-spot.

Within minutes he had you on the edge, fucking you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess ready to completely fall apart, but he stopped his movements and withdrew his hand from you, smirking at you with a smugness that managed to turn you on even more.

“Fuck, Jax,” you hissed, your breathing sharp as an untamed feeling ran through your veins.

“Hang on, darlin’” he drawled, his tone all-too happy considering what he just did to you.

He took off his hat and then tore his shirts off his torso, leaving him in his boxers that did nothing to disguise how large and hard he was, and had he not tugged them off himself, you were seconds away from doing it for him, your need for him increasing to the highest point when his cock sprang free.

“Put the hat back on,” you requested, your voice so lusty it was almost unrecognizable.

You squirmed in place, seeing the surprise in his features as he did as you asked and placed it back over his messy, blond tresses that crept out wildly from under it, his expression turned cocky in knowing how horny you were.

A half-satisfied smile pulled at your lips when he stood up against you, wrapping his arms behind your back where his hands carded up and down, returning your smile.

You leaned back slightly, reaching up to grip the bill of it to spin it around, facing it backwards just as he had worn it earlier.

“Happy now?” he chuckled.

You nodded, “Mhm. Are you?”

“Fuck, no!” he admitted jokingly through another laugh, reaching over for his kutte that he hadn’t for a second forgotten about you wearing earlier.

Guiding each of your arms through it, he brought it up to rest on your shoulders, holding onto the edges of its opening as his thumbs moved to rub your nipples until they hardened, making you shiver while a breathy whine passed your lips.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his mouth so close to you that his lips grazed your parted ones when he spoke.

You let your eyes close, waiting for him to give you the pleasure he was never selfish with, holding your breath until you felt his lips press onto your neck and down over your chest, his hands falling to your waist and then your hip, smoothing over the curve of your bum where he squeezed your flesh and gave it a playful slap.

Your giggle was swallowed when he kissed you, and you felt his own laugh shake through his chest when you brought your hands up to it, sliding them up to cradle his neck and let your fingers dance where his hair brushed along his bare shoulders.

In a swift motion that caught you off-guard, Jax lifted you into his arms, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist where he backed you up against the wall, thudding against the drywall as he pressed his body hard into yours.

Your nails raked across his shoulders and upper back, roaming to tangle in his hair that wasn’t trapped beneath his hat, and when he lined his cock up to your spread pussy and guided himself inside, you pulled at the strands that were woven between your fingers, his reaction to both sensations reverberating in your mouth.

Jax unleashed all his power on you, holding you up while slamming into you aggressively, the photos that hung on your wall rattling and banging with his barbaric movements.

Doing the best you could to move with him, you humped up and down in an effort to rub your clit on the coarse, wheat coloured pubes above his cock, feeling your climax begin to build again where it had been left teetering on the edge.

You caught Jax staring at your exposed tits, his vest having opened to put them fully on display where they bounced to the enthusiasm of his thrusts and your erratic rocking, his pupils blown out wide with lust.

“You look so fucking good, baby,” he growled, taking one last look at the erotic scene before meeting his mouth with yours, his kiss sloppy and rough.

A sweat started to break out on both of your bodies, your skin able to slip and glide on his easier with the harder you worked, the hair at the base of his neck damp when you moved your fingers along it.

Jax was always completely enamoured when he fucked you, but for some reason with you wearing his kutte today, he found himself in even more of a state, destroying you with reckless abandon to create the whimpering mess before him that he craved to see, the sounds he pulled from you the sweetest ones he'd ever heard. He was convinced it had something to do with the way his Vice President patch kept swaying beside your right breast as your chest shook in time to his ruthless pace, or the way the worn, faded, black leather and the white on all the labels that had turned dingey over time looked against your supple skin, and the thought of fucking you in it when it ranked him as President one day instead had him ready to explode.

The sense of pride he felt when it came to his club and displaying its logos was something he never took lightly, and seeing them on you intensified it even more, making it seem like no one else could wear them as well as you.

He became almost possessive, wanting to claim you and prove to you all the things he never vocalized all while knowing without hesitation that everything under that piece of leather was his and his only.

He kissed you roughly, not caring that the scruff on his face was turning your skin raw or that his teeth had knocked against yours more than once in his frenzy to get enough of you, feeling your pussy get wetter with every drive of his dick inside it.

“Fucking turn around!” he spat through gritted teeth, giving the order despite forcing you to do it anyway. He dropped your legs and had you spun around and planted against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to guide you forward, pushing you down so you hinged at your waist and were bent over.

His other hand gripped at your ass to spread your cheeks apart, his cock finding your open cunt without needing any help, slamming into you so hard you had to brace yourself on the wall to stop your face from hitting it.

“God, I’m gonna - fuck! - I’m gonna cum, Jax!” you wailed, your ability to speak properly taken away when he reached around you and started rubbing your clit.

“Yeah?” he huffed, mesmerized in the sight of his glistening cock pumping in and out of you. “You gonna cream all over me, you fucking slut?”

The way he barked that name made you shiver, your mouth filling with saliva to a point you couldn't even contain it anymore, feeling it drool out as your jaw went slack and your climax billowed its way to the surface.

Exhilaration took over you, your moans and cries of approval of how hard Jax was fucking you making him increase his fervor, creating a domino effect of you growing louder and his own moans to sound out and intoxicate you further, the mix of everything so dizzying that it was impossible to imagine a better high.

Jax chuckled behind you, the sound maniacal and deliciously twisted. “That’s it, fuck…”

You let go, accepting the way his body threw you into a trembling orgasm, clenching hard around his cock as he proceeded to pound you mercilessly, hearing his grunts and growls increase in volume and consistency as he honed in on his own end.

He couldn’t look away, watching your combined milky spend leak out of you as he continued to fuck you, your ass cheeks shaking along to his irregular thrusts, the Reaper patch spread out across your back as you took every blow he gave you a sight he would never tire of.

His hand was soaked when he removed it from between your legs, bringing his fingers to his mouth where he sucked them clean, keeping his dick buried inside you until he couldn't anymore.

You closed your eyes as you worked at steadying your breath, your fingers continuing to grip the wall even as you slowly began to straighten your body, feeling full and close to him despite him having slipped from you.

Sweaty handprints temporarily stained the paint when you opened your heavy lids again, smiling at the tingling afterglow that filled your veins, that smile growing bigger when you felt Jax press his lips to your dewy neck where he kissed your sensitive skin with gratitude. You were spun around again, gentler this time, his sweet smile matching yours as he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks, your hands wrapping around his damp back to help support you as you stood on unreliable legs.

He was heavenly in his post-fuck glow, small beads of sweat dancing just below the edge of his hat, his skin tinged with a pinkish blush from his efforts, his pulse hammering in his neck. His lips looked more inviting than usual, plump and moist, and when his tongue licked across them before dipping to capture yours, you swore your own pulse ceased in its duties.

The way he looked at you when he pulled away after kissing you slowly was curious, a softness and devotion reflecting in his cerulean blues that made your heart beat faster after having just managed to regulate it.

“You look like you've got something to say, Jax,” you breathed, wondering if there would ever be a day that he would say what he felt.

He shrugged, his thumbs stroking your heated face as he tilted his head, looking between your bodies at yours clad in nothing but his kutte, seeing his cum dripping down your thigh.

“I think I'll be leaving this here more often.”

You both laughed as he kissed you again, shuffling forward to push you against the wall where he was able to press his lips to yours as much as he wanted to.

---

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Taglist: @sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

#jax teller #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #jax teller x reader #charlie hunnam #sons of anarchy #jax teller fic #sons of anarchy fic #charlie hunnam characters #samcro

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wriothesleybear · 3 months

Text

A True Angel Amongst Us

~warnings: Some angst but ends with fluff, insecure Sunday, slight story spoilers, fem!reader, 1.9k words.

~a/n: I've been wanting to write for Sunday for a while now and the first thing I write has angst ;-; I've been having trouble coming up with ideas for him, but after the 2.1 patch, I've wanted to write fluff for him and about his insecure side because I feel like he sort of has one deep down. Angel just needs some love.

Sunday has been tenser than usual lately. The stress from the loss of his dear sister, the struggle of finding her murderer, and the stress from the possibility of a traitor being amongst The Family and the pressure from his master being the main cause of his tension. He puts on a mask and pretends that everything is fine to ensure that The Family's image isn't tarnished, but behind closed doors is different. When he's alone, he just stares off into space, lost deep in the sea of his endless thoughts. Even with you, his dear wife, he puts on a mask sometimes. He doesn't want to worry you and show you the strong leader that he is, who is capable of overcoming any obstacles and who will deliver righteousness when the day comes.

But no matter how much he tries to hide his weaknesses, you can see beyond his mask. You notice in the way his shoulders are always tense, his hands in fists, the frown that lingers on his face when he thinks you aren't looking, and the way he's less talkative during your limited time together. You hate seeing your husband this way, knowing he's bottling everything up inside. It's only a matter of time until it all bubbles up and he eventually snaps.

You decide to visit him in his dreamscape mansion office. You hadn't seen him all day due to him being busy with work. You weren't even able to see him off this morning as his side of the bed was already empty and made up. Knocking on his door, he tells you to come in. "What brings you here my dear?" He says with his masked emotions. Your eyes survey his office, noticing how it's a bit messier than usual even for Sunday's standards. He usually has everything in perfect shape given his ocd. Nothing was ever out of place for him unless something was wrong, further proving your suspicions. He notices how your eyes survey his office, the look of concern on your face is apparent. "I wanted to check in on you, my love. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You offer him a gentle, kind smile. "Of course I'm doing well. Why wouldn't I be? As head of The Family, it is my duty to be competent to fulfill my role." He gives you a smile, but it's not a real one. It's one of those fake smiles he puts on for show when out in the public eye.

"Sunday. I know something's bothering you. Please, just talk to me." His smile falters, his fake smile fading as he contemplates your words. You had been worried about him ever since the death of his sister. As the caring wife you are, you've been by his side, making sure that he was doing alright. Bless your soul, but with all the questions and pity stares, he couldn't help but get disgruntled. He knows you meant well, but his insecurity couldn't help but get the better of him. He thought you saw him as weak. I mean, he couldn't protect his dear sister for god's sake. It's his duty to protect those he cares about and he failed. He surveys your face while lost in his thoughts. His train of thought is broken by your calls of his name. He plasters on his fake smile.

"Dear, there's no need to worry about me. Or do you truly believe I'm just that weak?" You're taken aback from his accusation. You gather your courage and try to shut down his allegation. "Of course I don't. You're the strongest person I know, Sunday. It's just.. I can tell you're undergoing a lot of stress lately given the loss of your sister and work. I want to help you." By now his fake smile has fallen completely, replaced with a emotionless look. Turning away from you, his back faces you, making you unable to see the pain on his facial features. "I'm fine. You should leave, dear.." You could hear the coldness in his tone. The emptiness in his words sending slight shivers down your spine. You try to protest and get him to open up to you, but he cuts you off. "Don't let me tell you twice." He says in a strict voice, void of emotion. You hesitate but respect his wishes. You turn to leave without another word said. He doesn't even notice the breath he was holding until the door shut behind you.

Later that night, you lay wide awake in bed. Thoughts of your earlier event with Sunday replay in your head. After you left Sunday's office, you thought everything would be okay by dinnertime, but he never showed. You tried not to take it to heart too much, taking in consideration what he's going through right now, but when it got to midnight and he still hadn't arrived home, you began to feel worse. You've known Sunday for years. You knew how he was raised to become the perfect leader to represent The Family. He was a strong leader who believed in righteousness, in helping those in need, and caring for the people of Penacony. You know he's the kindest and most compassionate person with many strengths, but you also knew that he had many insecurities. He was scared that others would see him as weak and he was worried that everything he worked so hard for would be taken from him. Getting tired of wallowing in your thoughts, you finally decide to find him and try to get him to talk to you one way or another.

Arriving to his office once again, you knock on the door and patiently wait for an answer. "Sunday? It's me. Can I come in?" No answer. Maybe he was shunning you, but you weren't one to back down and walk away. You weren't going to give up on your husband. "Sunday. I'm coming in." Grabbing the door knob, you push the door open and are welcomed to a dark office. The only faint light coming from the windows in his office. Even with the limited lighting, you were able to see that Sunday's office was a bigger mess than earlier. Papers and books were thrown about the floor, the miniature display of Penacony in ruins. Worried, you continue to scan the room until your eyes land on the man slumped over his desk. Walking over to him, you observe his appearance. His clothes are in disarray, coat thrown recklessly on the chair, his wings and hair disheveled. "Sunday.." You hesitate for a second before resting a hand on his head. He tenses from your touch, causing you to withdrawal your hand. "Darling? What happened?" You ask in the most gentlest voice you could muster while trying not to push him too hard to talk. He doesn't reply to you. He keeps his head down on his desk, not willing to move an inch.

You quietly sigh. "Sunday. I understand if you don't like me pestering you with worries and questions. I'm your wife and I care about you. I'm only trying to be there to support you. I am here to support you. For anything. I'm here." Silence. You didn't expect him to reply but you wanted him to hear you out. "I'll give you your space, but just know, I'm here for you with open arms when and if you need to talk." You turn to walk away but suddenly, you're stopped in your tracks by a hand grabbing your wrist. Turning your head back, you see that Sunday is finally looking at you. You can see the pain in his eyes and by how his hand slightly shakes. Without saying anything, you turn your body to fully face him and open your arms wide, silently welcoming him into your arms.

He doesn't waste another second and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his body slightly shaking as you hold him close. "It's okay Sunday. You don't need to hide from me. I won't judge you. Please, don't push me away. I'm here for you." You gently whisper as you stroke his hair. He doesn't speak, all that's heard is his deep, shaky breaths as he tries to control his emotions. It's taking all his willpower to not breakdown crying right there.

"Can you look at me darling?" He's hesitant, but eventually pulls his head away from your body without releasing his hold around your waist. He looks up at you. You notice the painful expression that graces his beautiful features. His golden eyes water as he tries to prevent the tears from falling. He hates showing weakness let alone looking weak in front of you. You cup his cheeks as you search his eyes, giving him a gentle smile. "It's okay to show weakness sometimes, my love. You're the strongest person I know and nothing will change the way I feel about you. I will always see you as the strongest, most caring leader and husband."

Without realizing, tears have begun to fall from Sunday's eyes as he listens to your reassuring words. Your thumbs move to wipe his tears. "I'm...I'm sorry...for pushing you away." He quietly says, his voice slightly cracking. "There's no reason to apologize, Sunday. I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you." He feels guilty and embarrassed as he tries to move away so you don't see him cry, but you stop him. "It's okay to cry my love. Let it out if it'll help you feel better." He can feel the love through your words and the look you give him, causing more tears to fall. All you do is give him a comforting smile and continue to rub his wet cheeks as he lets his emotions out. You lean down and press a kiss to his left cheek. He gasps, surprised by your sudden action. You switch to his other cheek and continue to kiss his tears away. You leave one final kiss on his forehead and pull his face into your chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want my angel." He buries his head further into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you comfort him.

You can feel his body relaxing as he continues to bask in your comforting hold. "Thank you, my love. You are the true angel amongst us." You giggle and continue to hold him close for as long as he needs, occasionally giving him words of comfort and gently stroking his hair and back. You'll wait as long as it takes until he's ready to talk to you, but he understands now that he has you to catch him when he falls and he'll never push you away again.

#hsr sunday #sunday x reader #sunday headcanons #sunday fluff #hsr x reader #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons

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andy-15-07 · 4 months

Note

If you’re inspired could you do a fic about Paul Atreides and Y/N’s first night as enemies to lovers? Like they hate each other but they’re in an arranged marriage? Maybe Y/N is scared of the pain she’ll experience during sex? Would love fluff at the end…

Thanks!

From Enemies to Lovers

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

In the grand halls of the Atreides palace on Arrakis, a tense atmosphere hung in the air as Paul Atreides, the young heir to House Atreides, stood before his bride-to-be, Y/N. The marriage between their families had been arranged as a political alliance, a union meant to strengthen their houses in the turbulent times ahead. But for Paul and Y/N, the prospect of marriage was fraught with tension and resentment.

As they stood face to face, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills, Paul could sense the fear and apprehension emanating from Y/N. He knew that she harbored doubts and insecurities about their impending union, just as he did. But duty and honor compelled them to carry on with the charade, to fulfill the obligations thrust upon them by their families.

"Y/N," Paul began, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation, "I understand that this marriage is not of our choosing. But we must make the best of it, for the sake of our houses."

Y/N's eyes flashed with defiance, her resolve unyielding. "I will do my duty, Paul, but do not expect me to pretend that I am happy about this arrangement."

And so, on their wedding night, as they found themselves alone in the opulent chambers of the Atreides palace, the tension between Paul and Y/N was palpable. Neither knew what to expect, their hearts heavy with the weight of obligation and uncertainty.

As they stood on opposite sides of the room, their silence filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, Y/N's fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had heard stories of the pain and discomfort that awaited her on her wedding night, and the thought sent shivers down her spine.

Sensing her apprehension, Paul approached her slowly, his movements cautious yet determined. "Y/N," he said softly, "I understand if you are afraid. But I promise to be gentle with you. We are in this together, whether we like it or not."

Y/N met his gaze, her eyes searching his for any sign of deceit or malice. But all she found was sincerity and understanding, a rare glimmer of compassion in the midst of their tumultuous circumstances.

With a shaky breath, Y/N nodded, her walls beginning to crumble under Paul's reassuring presence. "Thank you, Paul," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I will try to trust you."

And so, as they lay together on the bed, their bodies trembling with anticipation and uncertainty, Paul and Y/N embarked on a journey that would forever alter the course of their lives. With each tentative touch and whispered caress, the barriers between them began to fade, replaced by a newfound connection forged in the fires of adversity.

As their bodies moved together in a dance of longing and desire, Paul and Y/N found solace in each other's arms, their fears and doubts melting away in the heat of passion. In that moment, they were no longer enemies bound by duty, but two souls united by love—a love that had blossomed from the ashes of conflict and resentment.

And as the first light of dawn filtered through the window, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, Paul and Y/N lay entwined in each other's embrace, their hearts overflowing with a newfound sense of peace and belonging. For in each other, they had found not only love, but also the courage to defy the expectations of their world and forge their own destiny together.

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jungkookstatts · 5 months

Text

As Thunder Rolls

[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.

[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters

[Word Count]: 8,296

[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)

People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.

You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.

Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.

“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.

Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.

“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.

“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.

“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.

There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.

But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.

“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.

Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.

You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.

“Down there,” you corrected him.

“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.

“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”

You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.

Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.

“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.

The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.

Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.

“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.

His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.

“Thank you,” he softly said.

At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.

You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.

Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.

But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.

He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.

His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.

What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.

You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.

You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.

“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.

“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.

“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.

You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.

In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.

“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.

“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.

“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.

“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.

“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.

“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”

He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.

“It’s because I have no money, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.

You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.

“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”

“Your siblings?” he asks.

“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”

He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.

“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.

“No,” you laugh.

Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.

“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”

“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”

You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.

“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”

“For?” you peck his lips again.

“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”

You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.

“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”

“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.

___

Law school used to be interesting.

Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.

Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.

These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.

Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.

You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.

A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.

“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.

“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.

With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.

“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.

“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.

“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”

“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”

Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.

“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”

“It worked,” you kiss him again.

“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”

“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”

“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.

You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.

“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.

“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”

You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.

“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”

“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.

You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.

“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.

“What?” all four of you say at once.

“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”

“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.

“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.

“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.

“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”

Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.

“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”

—

You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.

Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.

He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.

“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.

He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?

“Baby, talk to m—”

“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.

“What?”

“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”

You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.

“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.

“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”

“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.

“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.

“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.

His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.

“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.

___

Dinner is awkward. So awkward.

It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.

Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.

Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.

You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.

Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.

“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”

Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.

“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.

“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”

“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.

“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.

You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.

“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”

The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.

After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.

“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.

“Father,” you try to stop him.

“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”

Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.

“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”

You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.

“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”

“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.

“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”

“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.

He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.

“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”

“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.

Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children with loads of worth to their names. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.

He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.

“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.

“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.

There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.

“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"

“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”

“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.

Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.

You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.

“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.

“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.

“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”

“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”

“It’s not enough,” he whispers.

“N-No,” you shake your head.

But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.

“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.

“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.

Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.

“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”

He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.

“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.

“Marry me,” you say it again.

He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.

“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You can,” he denies.

“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”

His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.

“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.

“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”

“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”

“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”

He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.

“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.

“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. Your job; your family. You. Your heart.”

A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.

“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress,” he whispers the last part. “Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”

“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”

He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.

He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips.

“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.

He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.

“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.

“Where?” you follow him.

“My place,” he looks back at you.

You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.

You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city.

His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away.

The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.

“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.

You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.

Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.

“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.

“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.

The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.

You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.

You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, and he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.

With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.

You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to find the zipper of your dress.

He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he plays with the zipper.

“Please, Tae,” you allow him.

He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.

You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric down your hips. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.

But despite the plainness, you watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath the rest of your clothes. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook your bra yourself.

It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.

“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it is the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body.

He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.

“Tae?” you cup his cheek.

He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.

With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.

Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.

“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.

Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.

It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.

Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.

“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.

Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.

“Yes,” you nod.

You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.

“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.

“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.

“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.

“A little,” you admit with a small smile.

“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.

“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.

He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”

His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.

“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.

“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.

He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.

“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”

“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.

“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.

“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”

You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.

“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.

“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.

His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.

He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.

“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.

He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.

“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”

He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.

“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.

“So?” he raises his own.

“Will you?”

“Will I…?”

“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.

“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”

“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.

“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”

You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.

“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.

“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.

___

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

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