#why cant i swallow my throat feels awful the hell

[doki-mocha]

ogh my throat feels weird huhh

[kashimos-hajime]

no regrets (8/8) | r.b.

summary: For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Or, Reiner finally understands what peace is.

WARNINGS: MANGA SPOILERS!!! angst, mentions of violence, we get our happy ending :) pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.7k

a/n: welcome to the last chapter!! thank you so much for being on this journey with me. there are a few callbacks to previous chapters so see if you can catch ‘em all heheh 

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Few months ago ymir asked if I could let her write one last letter to krista, and I did let her. I stood over her shoulder the whole time, watching her pen down all this sappy shit and I kept thinking about you the whole time, behind those walls. What you were doing, what you were thinking. Maybe if you thought about me. I dont know.

I’m starting to see the appeal of wrting what youre not strong enough to say to a persons face. I never thought Id find myself on the other end of this stick. for some reason, I thought that I could stop myself, resist the temptation, or maybe that I didnt feel for you as strong as I thought I did once I was away from you. I was wrong.

What do I even say? I mean shit, I can barely see, my limbs are barely in tact, and all of it—shiganshina, it haunts me, even though I cant really remember it that well. Half of it goes black and then I remember hearing your voice, I remember Bertholdt, I remember you screaming.

You couldve walked away. why didnt you walk away? It doesn’t make sens. Why did you think to cut me out? Why did you try to save me? Im trying to make it make sense inmy head. It’s not working.

Fuck I dont know what I was thinking when I asked for a paper and pen. Why am I asking you questions? Its not like ill ever understand. At this point, I think it’s pity thats letting Zeke let me waste ink on trying to write straight. He doesn’t know what im doing, but thats better this way. Better than sleeping—better than eating. I just wanna talk to you and this is as close as I can get. Its my own damn fault, but I dont care. 

I completed my mission. After this, im done. ill give up the rest of my term. I dont want any of that glory anymore. I dont want to be a hero. Im just done.

Fuck, my head hurts so much. I dont really know if what im saying is making sense. Im hoping you never read this.

im sorry. I wish I could explain it to you some day, but chances are, ill be dead soon. Whether for treason or because they need to pass on the Titan, and I wont be able to see you again. Which means youll never know how sorry I am. How much I

Thats okay. I dont think youd believe me now even if I did say anything.

I remember your dream to live by the lake with a bunch of kids. You know I started to wonder if youd mind if they were our kids, not just some orphans who needed a home. I’d imagine one of them with blond hair. Imagine them swimming in the lake.

Never told you that was my dream too. Never knew i could have a dream of my own, something only I wanted and not just something to further marleys damn agenda, til I knew you. Sounds stupid but its true.

I think youd like Marley, if we weren’t sworn enemies. Just want you here with me right now. make me sleep easier knowing you’re there when I wake up. 

Dont want secrets either. Fuck I miss you so bad. I feel s o tired all the time. 

I rember when i first saw you all could think about was how you were the most prettiest girl id ever seen. I don know if you know thats why I tried to distance myself. Knew I couldn’t get distracted from my mison. happened anyway. Wish I could tell you that. 

wish I could tell you I love you. Wish I could see the look on yur face when you try lobster for the first time. Youd love it. Not sweet, but tons of desserts here too.

Shit. And the ring on your finger. ill put a ring on your finger. I promised. i swear ill go home and buy a ring for the moment I see you again. Might not be pretty but will do the best I can.

Olnly wnat only wnat only want to see you again and beg for your forgiveness. Let you know if I had a choice, I wouldnt have done it. Would take it all back, nd stay. i wanted to stay, stay with you and the others. I used to want to spend the rest of my life in those walls, now I think im sick and tired of them dividing people who arent even that differnet.

My eyes are beginning to burn. Worse because the skin is sitll growing back. Fucking hell god I miss you. miss your smile more.

I know i dont deserve your forigvneess forgiveness. I want you to be angry with me. I deserve as much, and I cant ask you to, but 

With love,

Rienr

You fold the letter, eyes closing as your fingers trace where the ink bled, the old tear stains wrinkling the paper beyond measure. Some are older than others, and you trace over his name again, your eyes burning, your throat tight enough to suffocate.

You’re leaning against the wall as everyone disembarks. They had taken Eren off first, Hange and the others getting ready to depart for the city while Connie and Jean lift a covered stretcher too white for the vivacious girl that lays dead beneath it.

They pass you silently, and you catch sight of a certain captain approaching, his pale eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows haunting his face.

“Captain,” you say, straightening. Placing the letter back into the tin, you slide it back into your pocket as he folds a green jacket over his shoulder. You give him a nod.

“You made it out alive,” Levi observes. He stops beside you, eyes more focused on what’s ahead. No doubt he’s not looking forward to having to take Zeke to wherever he needs to go—somewhere far, far away from Eren. You cross your arms. 

“It’s good to see you, too, Levi,” you intone. Sighing, you step in beside him and look out at the Walls you can’t see in the distance, your entire body wrought with a strange fatigue that’s only sewn into muscles by adrenaline leaving the body. “I think I’m going to stay.” He tilts his head to you, eyes flickering to your face, and you mirror the shift, your arms tightening. “I can’t leave this unfinished. Not after Liberio.”

“The farm will have to be abandoned,” he points out. “The kids, too.”

“I’ll make sure I move them where someone can take care of them. Somewhere north, far away from the brothers,” you assure, although still, your heart begins to sink and you close your eyes, exhaling deeply. “I have to hope they understand.”

Levi only nods, and you open your eyes as he wordlessly takes the jacket off his arm and offers it to you. Grasping it wearily, you open your mouth to ask questions but he only sets off, back towards the cabin where Zeke is still being held, and you snap your jaws shut, looking down at the jacket.

When you unfold it, you swallow the hard rock in your throat at the blue and white slipping beween the folds of olive green before there’s a sharp whistle. Looking up, you see the carriages already beginning to load up, and you glance back at the door where the captain has disappeared through before jogging down the ramp.

You slither your arms through the sleeves and shuffle the fabric along your frame as something thumps against your thigh, and you frown, reaching down into your pocket and coming into contact with something smooth and hard.

Withdrawing, your lips part at the green bolo tie gleaming in the lights of the port and you, without another thought, pull it over your head, letting it fall against your breastbone. 

“For your services to the Survey Corps.”

There’s no time to second-guess now. No time to debate.

“Good to have you back,” Hange murmurs as you walk towards the carriage taking Mikasa, Armin, and the others back to the city. You tug the lapels of the jacket tighter around yourself and flash them a weak smile. 

The Wings of Freedom on your arm feel like a brand, and it prickles your skin as you climb in after them.

.

Distantly, he remembers flashes. 

Eren reaching forward for Zeke, the exhaustion ripping him every which way, the sound of ODM gear whizzing in his ears as he tries to make sense of the punctured sensation in his armour.

How he had softened his nape, intending to die then. At least, let his death have some meaning, he had thought. Let him make one last effort to repent for everything he did to Paradis, and to his friends who’d been more family than his own mother.

He slips in an out of consciousness for the next few days. He doesn’t know what is up, what is down, but he does recognize his surroundings blearily, the way his head spinning somehow slowing when he presses his temple to the wooden floor.

How can he almost hear your voice in the echoes of the panels, countered by someone who almost sounds like Annie before he drifts off again.

When Reiner finally regains consciousness again, he wakes to someone crouched down in front of him. Jerking up, he lets out a sound before a palm slaps over his mouth and your face is shoved against his own.

“Shut it,” you whisper fiercely. “It’s just me.”

Your name muffled by your own hand, his eyes begin to burn and you lift your palm away as he sits up and you draw back. You’re dressed in clothes that look like they’ve seen better days but you’re relatively uninjured as you pull back. New lines adorn your face—one of the many prices of their damned war—and you only look exhausted. 

Sitting up, Reiner’s whole body groans as he leans against the wall, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. Your hands are hovering around his body like you’re scared he’ll collapse and there’s a fracture in your mask.

Something gleams on your finger and his eyes flit to it, his heart lurching when he realizes what it is.

The ring. You’re wearing it. You…

For a moment, a glimmer of their teenage selves shine through and he wants to reach for it—touch it so he can remember what it’s like to be happy. He thinks it’s an awful like now; the swelling of his heart so big he can’t breathe; the way his lungs are static in his chest; how he can’t say anything because there are so many words that want to come out first.

“You’re here. You’re alive,” he finally settles on raspily. Your eyes glint with a youthful pain as you nod.

“So are you.” 

And he doesn’t know who moves first—you or him. Nothing is forgiven as their bodies crash in an embrace that lacks grace, but they cling onto another like the world is ending and they’re the only ones left standing. 

Maybe they are.

He buries his face in your neck, and your arms are so tight around him your fingers dig into his shoulders as your body melts against his and his skeleton sags in his own body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “I‘m sorry.” A hand against your neck and an arm around your waist, he wraps his legs around your own and traps you against him. You seem to only sink into him even more.

Is that enough? I don’t want you to hate me.

You suck in a breath, and then it comes out shuddering. “You can spend the rest of what life you have left repenting for making me fall in love with a man who was always supposed to die.”

Softly, in his mind, your voice cools the searing heat of hatred inside him. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. It’s like they’re the only words he knows. He can’t remember ever meaning it this much. For him dying, for making you love him, for ever coming to Paradis. For loving you. For loving you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I know.” Your face turns to press against his own. Your lips brush against his jaw and his eyes slide shut, tears rolling down his face. “I read every single one of your letters.” Drawing back, you cup his face in his hands and your fingers smear his tears all over his cheeks as his palm rests against your neck. Thumb stretching up to touch your chin, he feels sobs shuddering in his throat at seeing you again—looking at him almost like you used to. “I can’t begin to understand, but I know you are. And I know you love me.”

Choking, he gasps, “You should hate me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I should.” You’re crying, too, voice thick, tears stubborn on your cheeks as you give him a watery smile. “I should hate Marley, too. But it’s beautiful there. The water by the sea… I want to be there with you next time. We need to go together, before you leave me alone, okay?”

Reiner doesn’t quite hear you. He hears Marley, and beautiful, and he’s never noticed how beautiful you are when you cry, but right now, it’s the simplest truth he knows. 

“Okay.”

When you tilt his chin up and kiss him softly, something inside him explodes from the gentleness that makes him want to crack in the palm of your hands. It sears him from the inside out, makes him grab onto you like you’ll disappear—this is another dream, isn’t it? 

It has to be. 

You can’t be kissing him again after four years. He doesn’t deserve it. You’re an illusion, something his mind made up to deal with the pain. He’s finally cracked for good, just like Bertholdt said he would, and he’s the devil, not you.

But then you pull away just for a moment to smile, eyes barely open as you look at him with a sad tenderness that wraps him in an invisible embrace, and he is faced with the heart-wrenching reality. 

The sky is falling, you are holding him tightly again, and they’ve lost their years. But you’re here. With him. 

He knows that this isn’t a dream as he feels the coolness of the silver band on your finger and the heaviness in how he knows he hasn’t repented a damn thing. 

Why him?

As you run your hand through his hair, you press their foreheads together.

“And I do want a family with you, by the water if you’d like,” you murmur fleetingly against his mouth and his eyes widen, cheeks burning, entire face crumbling as he turns his face in to your shoulder, crushing you in another brace. Sobbing into your neck, his fingers dig into your shoulders, wrap tight around your waist, squeeze you so close he isn’t sure where you end and he begins and your lips brush the shell of his ear. “Reiner, say it.”

“Please,” he whispers thickly into your skin, and you cradle the back of his head with a hand. He’s nothing more than shambles. “Please, don’t go.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” you promise. His breath is hot against his own face as you pull his head back and cradle his face again, thumbs brushing away the tears from his red face. “Just a bit more. A bit more and then it’ll be all over, you know?”

And he understands, then, what you want from him. Struggling for breath, for his lungs to stop seizing in his aching chest, he cups your face that turns into his palm on instinct, your face wet with your own tears as, for a moment, they try to pretend this isn’t where they really are.

Like they’re still in that afternoon in Trost, a thousand years ago, with the kids flipping coins into the water fountain and a cream bun between them. Like they’re under the tree, apple juice on your wrist and his lips on yours.

Like it’s those trips to the city, the walks on the Walls. Honey is dripping down your chin and he’s pretending he doesn’t want to kiss you, or there’s grease smeared on his forehead, and you’re reaching up to wipe it off his skin.

Like a thousand moments all at once, and he nods to himself as you brush your hand over his temple. The world outside is startlingly quiet, as if the universe itself stopped everything itself to watch this moment, and Reiner takes a breath that bruises his sternum before he’s holding your left hand where that ring still sits.

And slowly, he pulls it off, whispering as firmly as he can. He’s sure he fails—he’s shaking all over from your presence alone.

“When this is over, I’ll put that ring back on your finger. I promise.”

The smile that splits your face is dazzling. It’s the smile he’s missed since the day he left it.

“We have a lot of things to work out, Reiner Braun.”

And your fingers barely brush his jaw before you’re leaning to press a sweet kiss against his mouth. It’s sugary on his tongue, like honey and apple slices.

.

Your back is warmer when you’re pressed up against Reiner’s. The ship is quiet, and their pinkies are just barely hooked on oen another’s as you stare blankly at the empty space between Connie’s boots. You don’t speak, and Reiner’s gaze is only on you. He can’t look at anything else now that you’re back by his side again.

There’s a cut on your cheek from the fight just half an hour ago, and there’s dried blood along your hands where your knuckles had split open, but everyone seems too exhausted to clean themselves up. 

Reiner himself has a blanket pulled over his shoulders, and he sighs, slouching in his own sack of flesh.

Your head tilts towards him, enough that your temple presses against his cheek. His eyes close and he leans into your touch. Not a word passes by, but their hold on each other’s hands tightens. And Reiner thinks. 

For the first time, he thinks of a future he could have, and someone who loves him, and there’s something bright in his heart. Something that hasn’t burned since he left Marley as a child.

Reiner thinks he doesn’t want to die anymore. He doesn’t want to miss you for another moment.

.

Raising from the steam, you groan, your hands searing from the inside out as you touch your face where you swore every inch of your skin had been stretched, but nothing seems out of sorts as you glance around. Everywhere, all your friends who had turned just as you had are in various states of disoriented. The air is still hissing, crackled with surprised screams and shouts of names as people look for one another across the field. 

It smells like cooked meat and burnt hair, a none-to-pleasant mixture that turns your stomach.

Getting to your feet, you wipe at your face, trying to ignore the weird feeling underneath your nails and the ache seizing your muscles. Trying to ignore the remnants of Eren lingering like a ghost that won’t really leave you alone. You shiver, and a strange cold sweat takes over your body.

He had taken you to the sea, except it wasn’t the shore you were familiar with. There was a cabin nearby, with blonde children running, chasing after one another and a man with golden hair standing on the porch, firewood in his arms as he calls out silently. Or maybe you had been standing too far to hear.

“Eren… where are we?”

“Wherever you think you are,” he had said. “I just brought you where you wanted to be.”

A voice, quiet as a memory, catches your attention. “Here let me help.” A soft wind blows throw the mist, cooling your scorching face as you feel a presence stand behind you.

“Oh, thank you.” You look over your shoulder to see a tall boy, and your heart stops. Mouth dropping open, you stare at his foggy image, but he only smiles fully, a smile so tender it reaches every corner of you as you stumble forward, fingers stretching for him. “Bertholdt!”

His smile grows only that much more, eyes squinting a bit and a flash of teeth before he’s looking at your hand that passes through his chest. All at once, all the hope built up in your chest crumbles, and your hand snaps back, trembling just before him. He lays a hand over your own and your eyes begin to burn, tears slipping down your cheeks.

And then, softly, you barely whisper, “I miss you.”

Bertholdt’s smile merely grows, as if to say everything he couldn’t say before. As if to show he’s at peace now—that your last memory together isn’t every part of him, and your lips press together, trying to stop yourself from shaking.

 Shadows form in the fog, and together, the two look as a freckled boy and another girl steps out of the mist a distance away, beaming like the sun. Connie and Jean stagger to their feet just behind you, and your heart lurches into your throat when you recognize them.

“Marco! Sasha!”

Someone calls your name and you turn around just as arms scoop you up and you let out a surprised noise before settling into Reiner’s arms. Looking over your shoulder to look at Bertholdt, your heart only sinks.

He smiles and Reiner lets out a sharp breath beside you, settling you down. “Bertholdt…” More shapes emerge. A shorter boy accompanied by another taller one, both alike in their features. You recognize one as the Jaw Titan holder before Falco, but the other—

“Marcel!” Reiner chokes out the name, hand stretching out to the fog, but the boy merely tilts his head and waves.

Closing your eyes, hot tears streak over your cooling flesh as you fling your arms around Reiner again and press your face into his neck. He cradles the back of your head, and he feels… somehow weaker, but still, there is that impassable strength in his core that wraps around you as he watches over your shoulder, still clinging on despite your clothes hot enough to burn.

I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It’s the only thought in your head. Your last clear memory had truly been the others taking flight, and the pain that had ripped apart your body before sewing it back together again in unjust proportions. Your limbs had been too big, your blood racing too warmly through your head as your legs pumped but your brain screamed to stop. 

Your fingers had sank into Reiner’s legs to pull him down and you had watched—watched Jean take a bite out of him—

You shiver and Reiner’s arms tighten around you instinctively, constricting enough to let you know that his attention isn’t on you quite yet.

Boots shifting on the ground tentatively, your knees feel gummy as you draw back long enough to look at him. He still looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to watch the mist retreat. Bertholdt and the other two boys fall into a pool of fog, and your lips part in a farewell, but it’s already too late.

He’s gone.

A wind sweeps through the battlefield, tickling your sweating neck and cooling your boiling blood.

“Hey,” a soft voice croaks.

Their eyes meet in tandem. He regards you softly, like you are the reason the sun rises and the stars hang at the sky. Overwhelmed, you can only cup the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss. Your other hand along his jaw, it takes all you can not to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace that’ll send them both to the ground.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whisper hushedly against his mouth, throat swelling as he lets out a soft noise of surprise as you pull him into another tight hug. You don’t care that you’re crushing him, just that his heart is pounding against your own chest. “I couldn’t stop myself. I’m so sorry.” 

His eyes widening, he wraps his hands around your wrists and pulling you back just enough to kiss your fingers that crumple against his mouth. Clasping one of his hands in both of your own, you close your eyes and he uses his free fingers to brush the tears off your cheek before reaching into some dented tin you don’t recognize.

Eyebrows furrowing, you feel the heat leave your entire body, sapping your energy too, and your eyes snap to Reiner who steps back, cracking it open and presenting it to you. 

“You’re not the one who has to be sorry. I don’t think I’m the Armoured Titan anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I get the rest of my life back, but either way, I want to spend the rest of it repenting to you in any way I can, if you’ll allow me to.” A weak smile. “Truth.”

Your throat closes up, and you stare down at the ring so protected, gleaming despite the destruction around them. It looks almost out of place amongst the grime smearing your skin, the sweat drenching their skin, the smell of blood and metal clinging to their clothes, but Reiner only watches you with a tenderness you can barely meet. It’s so overtly overflowing with devotion that your heart is resting on your tongue, seizing control of everything. 

You barely nod, chewing on your lip, trying not to cry even harder as his eyebrows rise in relief and he lets out a long sigh.

He lifts the ring out of the tin, snapping it closed before sliding the band back home onto your finger and all at once, everything floods you. The exhaustion, the pain, the hunger, thirst, grief wrapping around your bones and chaining you to the ground.

It’s over.

The minute he put the ring on your finger, it would mean it was over. No more blood, no more fighting.

Just like he promised.

You barely croak out his name before you fall to your knees. You trust him to catch you, and he does.

[THREE YEARS LATER]

Just after the Rumbling had stopped, you had gone back to Paradis alone and came back with three children to a man who was still uncertain in a world that was changing. 

Since then, you’ve learned so much about the world, about yourself, about Reiner. 

How he’s seized by night terrors even now, just like you, and how one thing that soothes it is going out for a walk while the sun still simmers below the horizon, the sky a dark navy blue spliced with orange rays. The intricate details like him making a point to tie his own tie because his father never taught him how or the way he has to chug his coffee so he has enough energy to get through the day.

And some days are horrible, haunting, but now, it is far outweighed by the good. He teaches Xav how to dress smart, takes the girls out shopping. Sometimes, he’s spotted around Liberio with a flame-haired boy riding his shoulders, you trailing behind hiding a smile behind some ice-cream.

Different nations, foods, cultures surround you now—citizens of countries coming to settle down roots, spread cuisine to Marley. The idea before, of humans so different than you but still similar at the root of it all, existing, still blows your mind. The technologies that you had never seen before, languages you’d never heard, sights you’d never seen, had all swarmed you as you stepped into a new world with him.

But there is always one thing you’ll come back to.

Leaning against the railing in the port city Reiner told you was the harbour he had left twelve years ago, and returned to seven years ago, you watch the clouds travel in slow drags across the pale blue canvas hung high above your head. The water spans for as far as you can see, glimmering under the sun and gorgeous enough to take your breath away. You pull at your coat across your chest absently, ignoring the tender growl of your stomach. 

Breathing in the salty wind, you feel your chest expand at the litle fishing boats a little ways out.

Reiner was right. You don’t get sick of the sea. You never will—not of this much water. You still remember the first time you had swam in it, the salt-water making your hair crisp, the cold sweat forming on your your sun-warmed skin.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you spot blonde hair and warm eyes and smile. Your heart flutters a bit. You shift on your feet.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Reiner leans down beside you, and you clasp your hands, letting the sea wind curl against your neck. Reaching to slip his hand in between yours, he sighs and you lean against his shoulder, glancing at their pile of interlaced fingers. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” you whisper, although even still, you can feel a numbing at your fingertips. You remember what it was like to be a Titan, even now. The sensations haunt you—flashes of your own mutated body, the grotesque meat of your hands sinking into the ankles of the man beside you, the bloodcurdling roar spilling out of your throat.

Glancing at their fingers, you watch the flashes of silver of the rings play in the sunlight, your band now having a matching counterpart on his own hand. You grasp his hands tightly, bringing them up to your lips and his own grip tightens when you dust a kiss gently along his scarred knuckles.

“No,” you finally say at length. “I’m not okay. Going back to Paradis makes me nervous as hell, but we’ll manage.” He nods slowly, and you let go of his hands to wrap your arms around his neck. His own encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him and your eyes close at the familiar warmth—a warmth you’ve woken up next to most days for the past three years. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmurs, and your fingers play with the soft edges teasing at your pads as his nose presses against your cheek. Your eyes flutter at the soft heat emanating from his skin, and you shake your head, melting against him. With one arm still around you, he slants his body away from just enough to pull a bag out of his pocket and it crinkles as he hands it to you. Taking it, you frown and look inside.

A cream bun. You can’t help the crumbling in your expression and Reiner holds your face in his hands carefully, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Let’s stay positive,” he whispers. “We don’t know the situation until we get there and Historia briefs us.”

“I know,” you whisper and his entire expression eases at your words. His eyes gaze at you as if you’re the sole centre of his universe, and he cups your jaw more insistently, pulling you in for a gentle kiss, one you ease into, your eyes fluttering shut as his tongue traces the seam of your mouth. Laughing, you feel his little nose scrunch and your heart bounds up into your throat as he pulls back only to kiss you again, softer this time.

“Get a room!” A sharp female voice ruins their moment and you pull back just enough to see a red-headed boy running towards them and Reiner crouches down just in time to scoop Xavier up.

“When are you getting married?” he demands. “I was promised cake when you guys got married.”

“I dunno. When you move out of the house I guess,” you tease and Xavier pouts, rubbing at the side of his nose with the heel of his palm.

“Besides, you got cake for your seventh birthday, buddy,” Reiner groans as the boy twists in his arms. “You’re getting heavy. What are you feeding him?” he adds, smiling roguishly at you and you roll your eyes as Alina and Anya approach, sun hats protecting them from the glaring sun. Alina, grocery bags in hand, waves. Anya, who’d been the one to shout, tucks her coin purse back into her bag before flashing you a great big smile.

Only fifteen and seventeen. You can barely recall what it’s like being that young anymore, but you’re grateful they didn’t spend it the way you did. They get to know beauty, and no limits at all. The former comes naturally, the latter is partially because Reiner spoils them rotten.

Alina picks a flower with velvety purple petals from a bouquet she cradles in her arm, extending it to you.

“For good luck,” she says. “And protection.” Your heart melts at her words and you pause for a moment, looking from the gorgeous bloom to Reiner, occupied with the boy in his arms making silly faces at him. Then, without another moment, you sneak the flower behind his ear and he reaches up immediately to hold it against his head, turning to you in surprise. 

“To protect the both of us,” you explain.

“Thank you. I’ll be extra careful now.” He looks at the girls, setting his free hand on Alina’s head heavily and she flushes, smiling grandly. “You three behave while we’re gone, alright?”

You nod. “Listen to Levi.” 

“And listen to your sister,” Reiner adds to Alina and Xavier. The former rolls her eyes, the latter sticks out his tongue. “I’ll miss you.”

This is their home—their family that tumbles together into a huge hug, and you can’t help but stand back, watching how they all seem to merge into one unit, unaware of where one part of their reach ends and another begins.

As Reiner pulls you into the hug, your heart soars through your body, effortlessly pounding in your throat and in your fingers and everywhere at once. Liquid heat pools everywhere as Xavier screws up his face when you kiss his cheek, the same way Reiner does after he’s eaten something sour.

And maybe it’s a bit different, or a bit broken, the shards of their bloody history still poking at their heels whenever they think you’ve forgotten them, and it’s most definitely not perfect, but you would rather have it like this then anything else.

“Hey, guys!” Breaking apart, the family look over to see Armin, Annie, and Pieck walking over. Gabi and Falco meander a little bit behind, pushing Levi in his wheelchair, and Jean and Connie are running not far behind them, shouting at one another. You stifle a laugh and Xavier shimmies out of Reiner’s hold to run towards them. The girls follow after him, trying to hold back their runs but the closer they get, you can tell the more frantic they are to say goodbye.

So this is what they’ve made a peace. Something, you hope, is good.

Annie bypasses them quickly, making her way over to you and you survey her face as Reiner squeezes your shoulder, walking over to their friends. Her blue eyes are fixed on your face, and you feel your lips curving into a smile as she shoves her hands in her pockets. Her hair is swaying in the wind, gleaming flaxen, and you remind yourself, not for the first time, that Armin and Annie’s kids, if they ever decide they want them, will be gorgeous.

Hope for the future, and all that.

She stops in front of you, tucking a strand behind her ear.

“So,” she says at length, “we’re going back to Paradis. I’m surprised you decided to come with us. You don’t owe any of us anything.”

“I know. But… you’re my best friend. You do the talking, I fly the getaway plane, right?”

“Yeah. There used to be a time when it probably would’ve been the opposite.”

You nod, and they stand in silence for a moment, watching each other. Two women who should not have been friends, but were against all odds. You don’t think you would be here today if it weren’t for Annie.

Your heart lurches and you take a step forward just as she does, her mouth open to say something. You throw your arms around her and she lets out a noise in surprise as you close your eyes. Arms coming underneath yours, her hands dig into your shoulders and you smile against soft hair as she sighs, easing into your hug.

“Finally working together on an actual assignment,” you mumble and her head tilts as her small frame shifts, a hand patting you on the back as a sign for you to back up. “Just like we always said we would.” 

Bluntly: “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

“You, too.” Pulling back, the two look at one another for another soft moment before you remember the bag in your hand and you shift the bun up in the bag, extending it towards her. “Want some?” Her eyebrows rise in faint delight, before she’s reaching over, pinching and tearing a piece off. 

You grin and do the same and you gesture for her to come stand by the rails with you, stuffing the bag into your coat pocket. Leaning against the warm metal again, you hear a seagull call. The plane you’ll be flying to Paradis floats on the water, the technicians giving it the final check before you take off.

If anything goes wrong while you help prepare and oversee accommodations for the rest of the ambassador group, you’ll remember to fire the black signal flare, but you trust Historia. You trust your friends.

You glance over at them, all laughing, and you notice that the flower has gone from Reiner to Pieck, who’s taking it out of her dark hair to tuck it into Jean’s, and his cheeks redden as he brushes it more securely behind his ear.

Annie catches your attention again, pointing out idly that they’ll have to separate soon when they finish with the plane, and you tell her to just wait a couple minutes more as Reiner catches your gaze. Setting Xav, who has somehow wormed his way back into his arms, down, he walks back over to you, and his hand trails purposefully over your back before resting at the nape of your neck, a reassuring weight on your body.

“You guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Annie replies. “You have a clingy boyfriend,” she tells you. 

“I think it’s charming.”

She rolls her eyes. Reiner smiles, and you pat the railing beside you—silent invitation. He leans in on your other side, clasping his hands and watching the fishermen pull themselves to shore, singing a tune to each other—one familiar to all three of them and one that you wish you could get out of your head. 

“Soon may the Wellerman come…”

A faint breeze tickling at your fingertips as a sharp call for embarkment splits the harbour, you simply sigh and look over at Reiner. “I just want these last few moments to last.” His eyes meet yours, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyes. Annie lets out a soft noise of disgust and you bump your hip against her as Reiner pulls back.

Closing your eyes and lifting your head to the wind, you can almost imagine the one person missing standing on the other side of Annie, dark hair like spun, stained bronze and eyes like warm chocolate. He’d smile and tell them not to worry in that sincere way of his that makes you believe every word he says—as long as they were careful, they wouldn’t walk into any traps.

Your chest aches, and your lips tug into a heart-wrenching smile as you begin to sing along. Reiner slips a hand in between yours, pressing his temple against your head and you loop your other arm through Annie’s.

She rests her head on your shoulder, listening to your voice, eyes on the sailors bringing in their haul below them. Reiner hums the shanty softly, distractedly, eyes cast across the sea.

You tilt your head up to the sky, at the stars you cannot see but will join one day, and smile.

[whumperooni]

for shame

Pairing(s): Natsuo Todoroki x Sister!Reader, Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Tags/Warnings: incest, feelings of shame and humiliation, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, breeding/pregnancy talk

Word count: 2k

A/N: This was brought on by a big brained nonny. I had a lot of fun daydreaming this/writing this ♡

It’s been a long day for Natsuo- a hard test, coffee spilled on his favorite jeans, his phone charger stolen, his essay given a poor grade; all of that added up to a long day for him.

A shit day if he’s being honest- one that he thinks can’t get much worse.

He’s proven wrong, of course, whenever he gets home and opens the front door only to be met by loud moans. His mind first jumps to “fucking Touya brought home another girl and is banging her on the couch again” and his nose wrinkles along with the thought, an aggravated huff leaves him.

It’s only when he hears the squeal of “Daddy! Daddy!” that he realizes that those loud cries sound very familiar.

Natsuo gulps, frozen in the middle of toeing off his shoes, and stares down the hallway with wide eyes.

There’s...there’s no way. You aren’t- he’s not- no. No. If you were going to fall into something so horrible and ruining it wouldn’t be with him, it would be with-

Natsuo slams the breaks on that thought before it can finish and shakes his head, desperately tells himself that he’s mistaken.

It’s not happening. It can’t be happening.

Another loud whine and Natsuo gulps, finds his feet taking him to the living room despite his mind screaming at him to just turn around and leave the house for another good three or four hours.

There’s a gasp and a whimper that sounds right before Natsuo peeks inside the living room and it’s something that Natsuo thinks is horrible simply because it sounds so hot.

Please don’t let this be what I think it is, Natsuo pleads to whatever gods may be listening to him. Please don’t let it really be happening. Please don’t let it be with him.

The gods don’t listen- that or they’re just being cruel, spiteful.

Natsuo peeks into the living room to find his sweet, beloved sister in their father’s lap- your hips arched into big hands, your small ones gripping onto broad shoulders as Enji Todoroki thrusts his cock into his daughter’s soaked little cunny.

All at once, Natsuo’s heart breaks, his temper boils, his fists clench, his face flushes with rage and horror and shame.

Rage because how could his father do this to his daughter, to Natsuo’s most treasured and adored sister. Rage because how could his sweet little sister let their father do this- how could you let him fuck your wet, wet pussy? How could you let yourself moan and mewl like a perfect little whore while Enji spears your cunt with a cock that should be much too big for anyone to take?

How could you do this with “daddy! daddy! daddy!” instead of your beloved Natsuo-nii?

Horror and shame rushes in after his rage and a sick, hot pulse of mortification has Natsuo slapping a hand to his mouth, has his guts twisting with the sudden impulse to throw up.

How could he think that?

...probably for the same reasons you could be in Enji's lap.

Natsuo swallows down his sickness and he curls in on himself as self-disgust hits him harder than one of his father’s punches. He’s horribly aware that he’s half-hard and he hates himself for that- hates how hot he finds it whenever you throw your head back with a loud whine whenever Enji brings you down and makes you take him fully, whenever Enji moves your hips in a stir and lets out a growl of, “So needy, little one. You take my cock so well.”

Blood rushes to Natsuo’s head- to both heads, actually. He goes from half-hard to achingly, fully hard as you whimper and try to move to ride Enji, as you whine out a soft little “daddy, please, more” whenever you’re forced to stay seated on his cock instead.

A choked noise claws its way up and out of Natsuo’s throat- he can’t believe you’re so needy; he can’t believe you can take such a big dick; he can’t believe that he’s so into the way his little sister begs so prettily to be fucked.

God, how many time have you done this? How many times have you fucked your father?

Natsuo’s heart pounds hard, but it pounds harder still whenever turquoise eyes flick up and meet his own.

He recoils in an instant- fear and shame and embarrassment racing through him- but he doesn’t run away even with his instincts screaming at him to bolt and hide and not come home for a long, long time. He’s frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Enji grips your hips tighter and makes you shudder and arch your back.

He should run. He needs to run- who knows what Enji will do now that he’s been found out?

Natsuo’s fingers twitch along with his cock and he swallows hard, stares down his scowling father.

Rage is sneaking its way back into him- rage over being embarrassed and ashamed and fearful when it’s his father that’s gotten caught fucking his daughter, fucking Natsuo’s baby sister. Why should Natsuo run and cower when it’s Enji doing something so obscene?

Natsuo holds his ground despite his wide eyes and the jackhammer thumping of his heart.

Enji narrows his eyes and then he lifts his head- haughty with a look of authority, challenge as his eyes move from Natsuo and back to your pretty face.

“So impatient, little one,” Enji rumbles out. “You need to be fucked that badly?”

A whine from you and a nod. Natsuo can’t see your face, but he’s sure you have a trembling little pout, flushed cheeks and hazy eyes. You probably look so fucking good. God, he- he wants to see you all needy and pouting to be fucked. He shouldn’t want to see that. He absolutely should not want to see that. You’re his little sister- he can’t want this. He can’t.

Natsuo’s cock throbs in his sweatpants and he almost draws blood from digging his nails into his palms to keep from touching himself.

“Daddy, please! I wanna- I wanna be-”

You cut yourself off with another whine- hips trying to arch up and move along your daddy’s cock. There’s a low chuckle from Enji and Natsuo hates the smirk playing on his father’s face, the smug way he slowly slides you up his dick and forces you to take his slow, slow pace.

Enji stops when you’re half-way up his cock and Natsuo has to slap a hand over his mouth whenever Enji makes you lean forward, arch your hips. Natsuo can see how his father’s dick is parting your swollen, dripping lips with the new position- can see it even better when big hands grip your soft cheeks and spread you open even more.

It’s the hottest thing Natsuo has ever seen- lewd and disgusting and so filthy that he almost whimpers in need.

You probably feel so good inside.

He’s such a horrible older brother to want to know how slick and warm and honeyed your little cunny is.

Bile rises in his throat in contrast to how pre-cum spills in his boxers and Natsuo grips the door frame tight with his free hand whenever you let out a needy, sweet sob.

“D-Daddy, please! Please! I want- wanna be fucked! Daddy fill me! I need it!”

The smirk grows on Enji’s face and Natsuo’s fury roars among the dizzying swirl of emotions clouding his senses and judgement.

Why the hell are you begging Enji for that? He doesn’t deserve it- he doesn’t. If you’re going to do this with anyone in the family it should be the one who takes care of you the most, the one who has always been there for you.

Natsuo deserves to have you begging for his dick.

(God, he wants you begging for his dick- he wants to hear you cry out “nii-chan! please! please!” so fucking bad.)

“Shh, little one,” Enji says- voice almost soothing but not quite making it with a growl reverberating in the words. He kisses your cheek and he cants his hips up slowly to sheath himself in you once again- locking his eyes again with Natsuo as you whimper and mewl.

“Daddy is going to fuck you, little one,” Enji rumbles out- loud and so fucking pleased with himself. “I’m going to fuck you. Fill you. Give you what you need.”

You sob, the sound pitching close to a wail as you’re stretched open again. Natsuo’s vision is almost going spotted from everything now- he’s so overwhelmed and everything is so much and he is so fucking hard and all he can think now is fill you fill you fill you- i want to fill you as he watches Enji thrust languidly up into your needy pussy.

Enji kisses your cheek again and his eyes go half-shut as you tremble, as he watches his son struggle with his desires in the doorway.

“Daddy is going to fill you,” Enji continues- not looking away from Natsuo for one second. “Daddy is going to make you a momma, sweetheart. I’m going to give you a little one.”

You cry out a “please!” and Natsuo breaks.

He bolts from the doorway before he can process the action- runs to his bedroom and closes the door behind him, sinks to the floor and sticks a hand down his pants. A moan leaves him- loud and shameful, perverted as he frantically jerks off to the image of his little sister getting fucked by their father and the desire to know how you would feel on his cock, how horrible and wonderful it would be to cream your sweet little cunny and stuff you full with him instead of Enji.

Natsuo grates out a rough breath and he jerks as he starts to come- hips battering against his fist and the world rushing and roaring around him as he cries out your name.

He comes harder than he has all year and he falls to the floor after- panting and curling up into a little ball as shame tries to devour pleasure and greed, hunger, and want boil through his blood.

He wants you. He needs you. He’s so fucking awful but he needs you- needs your soft hands on him and your lips pressed to his, his cock filling your pussy and his seed spilling inside you, out and down your soft thighs.

Natsuo hears you cry out in the distance and he squeezes his eyes shut, hates himself as his dick throbs and envy washes over the mortification that should be taking over him.

He feels disgusting. Horrible. Hungry.

He wants to be the one fucking you and he hates that, but it’s not enough to stop him from reaching a hand down to jerk off to the thought. It’s not enough for him to replay the image of Enji spreading you apart over and over again in his mind. It’s not enough to keep him from moaning and rutting into his fist like some needy pervert. It’s not enough to keep him from coming to the thought of you begging for his cock.

It’s not enough to keep him from laying on the floor- a flushed cheek pressed to cool wood and his mind racing with a million schemes to get you into his bed.

...if you’re going to do it with Enji, then why not with Natsuo? Why not with your big brother?

If the number one hero can fuck his little girl, then why can’t Natsuo fuck his baby sister?

(It’s so wrong and he knows it. Is disgusted by it. By himself.

But, god, he wants it and after seeing you with Enji- with his father, your father- he knows that you probably want it just the same. He knows that you’d be happy to crawl into your nii-san’s lap like a good little girl and ride his dick like you ride daddy’s.

...if you’re okay with it, is it really that bad?)

Natsuo swallows hard and he squeezes his eyes shut, curls up tighter on the floor.

He’s a horrible big brother.

In the distance, you moan and mewl as your father fills you with his seed. Natsuo quietly, regretfully wishes that was him filling you instead and he sinks into a murky pit of pleasure and hopelessness, frustration and desire.

Natsuo had been wrong- his day actually managed to get a lot worse.

(Or maybe this is better?)

Natsuo grimaces and he forces himself to stand, wipes his dirtied hand on his sweatpants and heads to the bathroom so he can try to wash away his sins.

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Freya and Freddy are a married couple who are new to the sanctuary. Negan cant help himself as he becomes obsessed with wanting Freya to be his and makes her become his wife.]

[Obviously not a healthy relationship but it was a requested fan fic, enjoy.]

Negan and Freya.

Today was the day you would meet Negan. A man named Simon found your husband, Freddy and yourself with a few others. You were told you would all be used to help run the sanctuary in return for shelter and food. Not having anywhere else to stay, your husband thought this would be the perfect place. The two of you stood hand in hand as a man entered the room that you figured to be Negan. He held a barbed wired bat as he made his way in. Introducing himself in a very arrogant manner, it wasnt hard to tell why he ran things here. He began expressing what he expected from all of you, his eyes roaming through the seven people before him until he saw you. The sight of you instantly making him stumble over his own words.

"Well excuse me." He slowly made his way towards you, the look in his eye making you nervous. What was going through his mind? Freddy tightened his grip on your hand as Negan was face to face with you.

"I dont think I caught your pretty little name."

"Freya." You responded confidently, his eyes devoured you, it was obvious he liked what he was looking at. Indeed he did, until he noticed you held hands with the man beside you.

"Aw, you must be the boyfriend huh?" You could hear the sarcasm in his tone and did not like it.

"My husband." You corrected him making him look back at you before turning back to Freddy with a smile.

"Mm...I dont blame you one bit. Got yourself a nice piece of ass." He could tell Freddy did not like what was being said and chuckled.

"Would you mind if I borrowed her for just a moment?"

"I actually do-"

"Ah. You must not remember the number one rule I made here. Do not go against me or there will be a price to pay." He looked Freddy straight in the eye in a very serious manner. Freddy knew there was nothing he could really do. You squeezed your husbands hand letting him know it was alright.

"I just want to give your wife a personal tour." He taunted him with a wink before turning to you.

"Shall we?"

Slowly you let go of your husbands hand and walked away with Negan as you continued to look back at Freddy. He knew why you were doing this, he knew you were only trying to prevent this man from becoming angry. You were trying to protect him.

Negan guided you to where he stayed. Entering the room you remained by the door as he walked to his desk. Negan casually sighed placing the bat on his desk before turning back to you.

"Why so far away, sweetheart."

"I'm fine here." You responded as he rubbed his chin slowly. He took off his leather jacket as he proceeded to make his way back to you making you much more anxious. What was his plan?

"Let me ask you something, doll." He stopped right before you, his eyes focused on yours. His voice smooth yet deep, you stood without moving a muscle.

"You love that man?"

"Of course I do." You responded rather quickly.

"You sure about that"? He moved closer as his eyes roamed down your body and back up to your lips. Distracted with the way he was looking at you, you didn't respond.

"What would you do if I just kissed those sweet lips right now?" He whispered, his tongue softly glided over his top lip before you looked away.

"Stop it."

"I wont tell him if you wont." He teased.

"I want to go back to my husband." You insisted making him frown. He leaned his face close to yours, you could feel his warm breath on your skin when he simply smiled.

"Oh I'll take you back to your husband."

Nervously, you swallowed attempting to hold your ground before he led you back outside. The last thing you wanted to show this man was fear.

Instantly rushing into your husband's arms, Negan stood behind and sucked his teeth. Negan was a man that went after what he wanted regardless the obstacle. The man was attracted to you in a way he had never found himself to be attracted to another woman. The next few days at the sanctuary you went about your business helping the women cook. Negan stood aside watching as Freddy walked by you and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. He had seen how gentle you treated your husband, he couldnt keep his eyes off of you. After a long day of Freddy working around the sanctuary, he was ready to come spend time with you. Negan watched as he headed towards you and decided to interfere in the moment.

"Freddy, my boy." He spoke with a touch of humor, you sighed wondering what Negan wanted now. You felt his eyes on you before he turned to your husband and requested a favor.

"I need you to go with Simon on a run-"

"Negan he just finished from working all-"

"Ah ah ah, sweetheart. What did I say about that." Negan turned to you waving his gloved hand as you crossed your arms.

"Negan, I dont like to leave Freya alone at night. Please." Freddy spoke politely not wanting to get on Negans bad side. Negans response was an arrogant smirk.

"Oh she wont be alone."

Freddy looked at you knowing he couldnt get out of this task. You nodded as you understood and wrapped your arms around him for a kiss before he left. Quietly you followed Freddy to the entrance to see him off with Simon, Negan stood right beside you.

"Please becareful, Freddy."

"I will, Freya. I wont be gone long." He smiled at you and got in the car.

"Dont worry, she'll be in good hands." Negan yelled out to him with a slick tone. You knew exactly what he was doing, hell this wasnt the first time Negan sent Freddy off so he could have you to himself. The pattern was quiet obvious with Negan. As soon as they drove off you turned away heading straight to your room.

"Woah woah woah, where are you in rush to go, sweetheart?" You could hear him following right behind you.

"I'm making dinner." You sighed as Negan followed you inside. Placing his bat gently on the table, he sat back, legs open as he took in the sight of you from behind. Feeling his eyes on you, you turned around to him biting his bottom lip. Trying to hold yourself together, you reminded yourself to not upset this man.

"Can I do something for you, Negan?" The tone in your voice showing a bit of irritation.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked." Negan stood up and slowly began to make his way to you.

"Tell me something, Freya." He stopped right before you, towering over you, you could smell his scent close to you.

"What do I have to do to get your mind off that husband of yours?"

"You will never get that chance." You responded confidently making him laugh quietly.

"I dont know about that..." he spoke with sarcasm.

"I think I have my way of making women not able to resist me."

"Well then go find those women. I'm a married woman."

"I bet I could make you forget that with just one touch." Negans tone was provocative, he was making it hard for you to keep your composure. Who did he think he was? He was a persistent man, especially with a woman that caught his eye. He leaned his hands on either side of you on the counter, closing you in against it.

"Go ahead, tell me to stop. If you want me to I will but those eyes....mm those eyes say otherwise."

Before you could respond he suddenly picked you up and sat you right on the counter making you gasp.

"Yeah I bet he never takes you by surprise like this huh?" He teased before you suddenly pushed him away and jumped down.

"Dont ever touch me again!" You yelled not caring if Negan had the power of authority at the Sanctuary. He chuckled as you yelled at him, not being able to help himself but like how you attempted to act superior to him. Not even the men had the balls to ever stand up to him the way you did, he liked your courage. He liked your confidence.

"Easy, darling. I wont touch you." He lifted his hands up as his eyes continued to undress you. Remaining silent you crossed your arms and sighed.

"I'll be waiting for my husband in my room." You walked out quickly not being able to get your mind off the way he touched you, or how him touching you made you feel. The look in his eyes as he spoke to you, you had never seen in Freddy. Shaking your head and laying in bed you waited for your husbands return.

Negan sat at his desk and closed his eyes, slowly licking his lips thinking of how close your body was to him today. The man couldnt get his mind off you no matter what he did. He wished you weren't married, if it wasnt for your husband he was sure he would've had you by now. Slowly rubbing his crotch area he felt himself rock hard. Every encounter with you left his cock craving more of you.

"Shit..." he muttered to himself picturing what he wanted to do to you until a knock on his door interrupted him.

"Fucking shit, what?!" He cleared his throat only to hear Simon had returned and he returned with your husband. Negan walked out and saw Freddy entering where you were. A sting of jealousy hit him knowing this was the man you kept turning him away for.

The next few days went by and you kept your distance from Negan but always knew he was watching. He sent off Freddy once again out of the sanctuary as you helped organize the storage room with two other women. He appeared leaning on the doorway as you organized some supplies in a box. The two women beside you instantly getting nervous with his presence. His boots clicked loudly with the ground as he made his way into the room. Taking a deep breath you ignored him acting like his presence didnt phase you.

"Ladies. You're free to go." Knowing damn well he didnt mean you, you played dumb and began to leave the room with the other two ladies.

"Except for you, Miss Freya." Rolling your eyes with a sigh you turned back into the room and continued packing the boxes. Ignoring his movement around you, you felt him stop right behind you.

"This too close for you, darling?" His voice was seductive and husky, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Wheres Freddy?" Negan smirked as you felt him breathe close to your ear.

"Afraid I'm going to do something, sweetheart or are you afraid you're going to like it?"

"No." You responded very sure of yourself as you continued to go through the supplies before Negan suddenly put his hand over yours. You froze feeling his skin against yours, he gently moved where your hand moved as you placed the item in the box.

"I wont do anything you dont want me to do." He spoke slowly yet you could hear him begin to lose control of his breathing. The feel of your heart began to speed up, you couldn't understand why. That's when you suddenly felt him slowly press himself against your backside, purposely pressing his erection against you.

"Negan..." you gasped.

"Feel that, darling..." He spoke breathlessly in your ear. What scared you most was you almost felt like you were beginning to enjoy it.

"No!" You suddenly turned pushing him away.

"I am a happily married woman, I love my husband deeply. Respect that." You paced out of the room leaving Negan with an ache he only wished you could fix.

Slamming the door to your bedroom you sighed in disbelief with yourself. You loved Freddy, you truly did. This had gone too far and you knew you couldnt continue living this way. The only solution to this problem was to leave. Freddy returned and right away you expressed to him what had happened earlier in the day. What he wanted to do was put his hands on him, but he knew he couldnt risk your safety. There was too many of his men. What you hadn't been completely honest to Freddy about was how exactly you felt about what he did, you couldn't.

"Tomorrow night we leave." Freddy spoke with eagerness unaware that Simon was outside your door. Simon immediately informed Negan of your plan. Furiously he slammed his bat on his desk, he was not going to allow Freddy to get his way.

"Do you want me to take care of it?" Simon asked as Negan frowned.

"No. Let them think they're going to get away with it. I'll take care of it." Negan remained in his room in silence waiting for the sun to go down. Knowing exaclty when you would both attempt to leave, he picked up his bat and made his way to your room.

Freddy finished packing some of the bags as you took some extra canned foods. Rushing quickly before Negan would awake, you both prepared for the risky journey.

"Ready to go?" Freddy looked over at you as you nodded. Just as he opened the door the two of you were taken by surprise with a gasp at the sight of Negan standing on the other end.

"Going somewhere?" His bat lay comfortably on his shoulder as he grasped it tightly.

"Negan...I-" you began to speak suddenly unable to think, his eyes were dark with a threatening glare. He let himself in making you and Freddy back away.

"You know, I thought we were all great friends." A touch of sarcasm in his tone as he closed the door behind him.

"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed." He placed his hand over his heart. Neither of you could speak, Freddys hand holding on tightly to yours.

"Freddy, I kept your wife safe." He walked towards the both of you, before his eyes turned to you.

"Freya....I thought we had something special going on."

"Negan I can explain." You spoke anxiously as he frowned.

"Explain?" He grabbed the bag out of your hands and emptied it beside you.

"Explain what? How I gave you food and shelter and you wanted to sneaky away with more of it. That's a little fucking ungrateful."

"Negan-"

"Dont speak!" He roared making you jump.

"You think you can get past me?!" Negan stared down at you in fury before he suddenly grabbed Freddy and forced him to fall to his knees.

"Negan wait!" You screamed as he began to wave his bat, you knew what was coming next.

"Please wait-" You ran up to him placing your hands on his arm.

"I'll do whatever you want just dont kill him. Please." Negan smirked, slowly bringing his bat down. Scratching his chin he leaned in closer to you, his eyes falling directly onto your lips.

"You want him alive?" Negan spoke coldly.

"Yes." You whispered, swallowing nervously.

"Tell him you're mine."

His words left you speechless, what was he trying to do?

"What....Negan I-"

"You want him alive dont you? Then tell him you belong to me."

The look in his eyes showed he wasnt playing any games. Taking a deep breath you turned to your husband who didnt utter a word. What could he say? Freddy was aware how dangerous Negan could be.

"Freddy...." you began to speak as you felt Negan hoving over your shoulder staring down at your husband with a grin.

"I....I belong to....Negan now," you could hear Negan laugh low by your ear.

"Matter of fact, tell him you're now my wife." You squeezed your eyes shut knowing this was hard for Freddy to hear. He felt so helpless as he looked up at you before him.

"I am...Negans wife now."

"Atta girl. Now I dont appreciate being lied to or taken for a fool. After all I have given you, you wanted to sneak away with more things. Well now, you can only get what you need as my wife, do you understand?" Negan spoke loudly in your ear, your back still to him.

"From now on whatever you two had is done. You do not speak to each other or see each other and you-" Negan turned you to face him directly.

"You definitely do not cheat on me. Understood?" You nodded your head in silence before he looked over at Freddy.

"It didnt have to be this way but you've left me no choice. Dont try to cross me again."

Freddy remained silent as you kept your head down, you didnt have the heart to look over at your husband.

"Shall we....wife." Negan motioned for you to walk ahead of him and he followed with an arrogant walk.

In disbelief with what had just occured you found yourself being led to Negans room. There was no way out of this but to simply comply with what he wanted. At least Freddy was alive is what you would tell yourself, but at what cost? The cost of him suffering and watching you be with another man. Negan closed the door behind him as you looked around his room and your eyes stopped on his bed. A king size bed with black silk sheets, everything in his room was black.

"Like what you see?" He watched as you observed eveything in the room but focused on his bed with a look of concern.

"Oh you're worried about that huh?" He whispered behind you.

"I tell you what, how about you have the bed to yourself until your comfortable in you know...sharing it with me...your husband." Still, you remained silent.

"Lighten up, sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable." Negan walked past you taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the couch. Hesitantly you inched up to his bed without looking back at him. Without saying a word, you climbed in and covered yourself with your back to him. This was your new life now, might as well get used to it.

The next few weeks past at the sanctuary. It was hard walking past Freddy and not being able to speak to him. You wondered what was going through his mind, Negan watched as you became distracted many times staring off at your husband. It was something you could not help. Doing as he asked you sat with him and had dinner every right. Tonight, Negan stayed staring at you curiously, you could feel how much he observed you as you stood up and began to wash the dishes.

"Freya...darling." He leaned back as you turned to him. Slowly he stood up and with an intimidating look walked to you. He stopped right before you looking down at you with intensity, Negan had not touched you yet but he wanted to. He yearned to feel you.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked in a seductive manner.

"To you." You responded softly, your voice sending a shiver through his body.

"Then show me." His words made your lips part not knowing exaclty how to respond. He pressed his pelvis against you as he stared down at you. It wasnt hard to tell the man wanted to kiss you. Slowly leaning forward, you closed your eyes and gently placed your lips on his. He groaned feeling your tongue part his lips and unexpectedly pulled you in tightly against him. One arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand slid to the back of your neck. You slowly felt yourself easing into him, liking the way he held you a moan escaped your lips. He felt your body relax against his, something you couldnt deny was you found yourself enjoying this. The two of you were lost in each others touch before being interrupted by a knock at the door. Instantly you pulled away making him sigh before he turned to walk to the door.

"What?" He spoke rudely as he opened to find Simon on the other end with Freddy. Negans lips matched yours, pink from how much you both sucked on each other. Realizing Freddy was at the door you gasped and turned your face, Negan liked the look of pain in Freddys eyes.

"Freddy, my man. I was just here with..my lovely wife." Negan turned to you with a grin.

"Oh wife-" he motioned for you to come stand beside him. Hesitantly you walked to him, Negan placed his hand around your waist pulling you in close.

"Now what is it?" Just as Freddy began to speak, Negan purposely interrupted him.

"Hold that thought." Negan spoke sarcastically before he turned to you and unexpectedly began to slowly kiss your lips. Lifting a finger up to Freddy, Negan taunted the man motioning for him to give him a moment as he kissed you. You could feel your heart slipping a beat, the rush between excitement and guilt, Negan pulled away and looked back at Freddy with a smile.

"You were saying."

Freddy froze for a moment as you looked away, suddenly forgetting anything he had to say.

"Freddy here is accompanying me on a supply run," Simon finished for him.

"Ah, great. Have fun." Negan slammed the door in their face before turning back to you and noticing the expression you had.

"Dont tell me you feel bad now, sweetheart," Negan frowned looking down at you. Truth was, you didnt feel as bad as you thought you would. Negan was making you feel something you were not sure how to explain but it felt good.

"I tell you what, your husband is going to go take care of a few things around the sanctuary then I'll come right back to you."

"Okay." You caught yourself smiling at him and he indeed liked that.

Words couldnt explain the mixed emotions you felt for Negan. Never had you been in a situation like this before. How was he having this much control over you? Hours went by and he had not returned, you began to feel restless. Day turned to night when you finally heard him at the door and ran to greet him.

"Where were you?" You asked making him look up with a puzzled expression.

"I told you I had to take care of a few things, doll."

"I didnt know you were going to take that long. I-I was worried." Negan raised a brow as a smile slowly appeared on his face.

"Oh yeah?" He began to take off his jacket as he closed the distance between the two of you. Once he reached you, he caressed your face with his hands and kissed you. He could feel how much you yearned for him.

"You've been a good girl today?" Negan asked huskily as he parted his lips from yours.

"Yes," you felt him begin to trace over your lips with his thumb before slowly putting his finger in your mouth. Erotically sucking his finger the two of you didnt break eye contact with each other. The feel of your lips closed around his finger aroused him, he could feel his cock wanting to burst out of his pants.

"Tell me what you want, darling." He whispered as he pulled his wet finger out and continued to trace your lips.

"I want you, Negan." He closed his eyes in satisfaction, something he had been wanting to hear for so long. It was true, as time went on you found yourself looking at Negan in ways you never thought you would. Many nights Negan awoke rock hard with you beside him, him unable to do a thing about it but picture what he wanted to do to you.

Suddenly he roughly turned you over pulling you back aggressively by your hair, the sudden pull making you scream. Negan pushed you down face first on the bed and pushed himself up against you. The way he moved you and touched you created a pool of wetness in your underwear. Without letting go of the grip he had on your hair in one hand, he pulled your pants down just enough to stop at your calves. Roughly he unbuckled his pants, you could hear his erratic breathing, you squealed as he continued to pull your hair. Allowing him to do what he wanted to you, you felt him slowly enter you from behind. Negan let out a satisfied moan at the feel of your warmth. The girth of his cock making you feel full inside, you moaned in pleasure. Without wasting any time Negan sped up his movement, slamming into you fast and hard.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked breathlessly, just when you went to moan he yanked on your hair harder.

"Like this? This how you want it?"

"Yes Negan....like that.." you moaned motivating him to move faster.

"Tell me you're mine. Fucking say it-"

"I'm yours, Negan. I'm yours." You screamed as he bounced you off the bed. The controlling sound in his voice turned you on in a way you could not explain. For some reason you had no problem being submissive to this man. The pain he caused pulling your hair was satisfying and you didnt want him to leg go. Negan grunted as he continued, you could tell he was about to finish. Noticing his reflection in the mirror on the wall, you watched as his eyes never left the sight of your ass. With one last thrust you felt him pull out and felt him release himself all over your ass. He moaned loudly as he jerked off every last drop on you. Releasing your hair, you could hear him panting as he sat back on his chair. Out of breath yourself you stood up and fixed yourself up as you watched Negan light a cigarette. Barely able to speak he smiled at you as he blew out smoke.

"You're something else, Freya."

The feeling was mutual, you smiled at him in return not realizing how much you'd enjoy having sex with Negan. He stood up and began to got dressed before making his way to you. With you sitting on the bed, he stopped before you and made you tilt your head up at him.

"You'll forget about him eventually."

Truth was, you weren't forgetting about him but you were okay with what was happening. Negan sat back on the couch, taking a deep breath feeling relaxed. Closing his eyes he didnt notice as you stood up and quietly walked to him. Without a warning you slowly straddled him making him open his eyes with surprise.

"I'm doing just fine without my ex husband." Negan smiled as he placed his hands on your hips. The words you spoke were true, you found yourself beginning to have deeper feelings for Negan. In your mind the only husband you had was, Negan. There was no question about it, this is not how you expected things to turn out to be but, you were accepting of it.

Negan kept you safe and gave you anything you needed, he was the only man you wanted.

[spiltscribbles]

I Carry Your Heart With Me

~Notes: Hiya loves! So I wrote this in dedication and thanks to the gorgeous @sophiegaladheon for donating to the amazing Fandom Trumps Hate event!!!! I moving this from AO3 just because of me wanting to just a couple things lol. You’re a remarkable person Sophie! Thank you for being so SO beyond kind and for being patient with me and I’m glad that you enjoyed this when you read it<3<3 It literally makes me emotional with joy!!

.-

Send ME A Prompt  |  A Reblog Is So SO fucking amazing!!!

.-

And as the bandaged knot was tightened,

  the two men smiled  into each other’s eyes 

—Hart crane

.-

There’s muffled laughter that reverberates through the door, drown out by the playlist Pez had queued up as soon as they all had clambered into Alex’s room to begin getting prepared for the wedding of the century. Henry can easily picture the way Beatrice is swiping a makeup brush across June’s cheekbones, and how Pez and Nora alternate between dancing on Alex’s bed to screaming about their hatred for most people; and it makes him grin. Their group is unconventional as hell, but they’ve all slotted into one another’s lives so seamlessly that there must be something like providence that brought them together and kept them as bound as they are. And Henry loves them all with every inch of himself, but he soon loses attention when his eyes flicker from the door to the mirror in front of him where Alex is still primping and preening.

The dim light of the loo attached to Alex’s room glitters in his brown eyes, softly caresses his features while  he sprits on his final coat of cologne before the night commences, a idl hand tousling his hair into an artful sort of muss, and Henry can’t take his eyes off of him from where he’s lounging against the wall behind him, flickering between appreciating the sight of  Alex’s miraculous arse in those black slacks,  and his gorgeous reflection that’s grinning at him knowingly; either way  Henry’s smiling to himself at the lovely sight of it.

Alex is beautiful through every layer, to his very core, and it makes Henry go weak at the knees, makes his head swim with the realization that he’s with him, that he chose Henry. Alex loves Henry, and that must mean something. Must mean that the frantic thudding to Henry’s heart— the adoration and love and need Henry’s always been crippled by— is mirrored in Alex’s own. Not to as drastic of a degree surely, but it’s there. And that’s enough, that’s all Henry had ever wanted ever since  that brilliant day at the Olympics that sealed his fate so unswervingly. A fate that was made only more permanent once they had fallen into one another at Philip’s wedding, and just kept falling in different ways in different countries in different intensities. A falling that never stopped, a falling that intwined them in ways that Henry could never fathom unwinding. A falling that locked them together in ways he was brought up reading about in feted love stories printed out in black and white, and what he got to see painted out in real life with how his mother’s eyes always twinkled that bit brighter when gazing at his father, and how Arthur’s smile in turn only ever got soft in that particular way when she was besides him. A love story Henry never thought he could have, never thought would be within his grips considering how bleeding gay he is. But he did. 

Henry found that picture of glittering color, that wave that can swallow him whole if he’s not careful, that strumming to his insides. He found it in how Alex laughed with his head thrown back when he's especially happy. Found it in the way Alex reads while mouthing the words, like his lips couldn’t stay still even in silence. Found it in the look on Alex’s face when Henry brings him over the edge in their bed. In the way Alex kissed him back underneath a thousand polluted city stars and amidst the vivid greens of the Whitehouse garden that January night. Found it in the way Alex’s touch to Henry’s skin always felt like a cocktail of excitement and wanting and comfort. 

Henry’s found his forever with Alex and there’s no doubt in any nook or crevasse of his insides that they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives knotted into one another. But the thought does feel like a bit of a noose clamping  around his heart— painful and terrifying with its intensity— when it makes the left pocket of his suit drag that bit heavier. The pocket where Henry tucked in a small velvet box with the wedding band his father had worn till his final breaths, the one that Henry’s resized in Alex’s measurement and bought a matching pair for himself. And it’s making his insides go this strange tingling feeling, standing here in the confluence of all he and Alexander are and all they have been and all they will be.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to ask, like he hasn’t wanted to ask Alex every minute of every day ever since his mother had given him the piece of jewelry six months ago with a thin smile and watery eyes. When she had asked him to help make their family full once more.

God, Henry wants to ask him, wants to get to call Alex his partner in every delightful sense of the word. And he even thinks Alex’ll say yes, is almost positive of it. Even if they end up with a longish engagement. That doesn’t matter to Henry, it’s the promise of the whole ordeal, the promise of wanting to spend forever tangled into each other’s arms. But for all of Henry’s talent with a keyboard and his knack for syntax and his naturally developed mind that’s always been able to fold words into one another to read like a stream of thought. He’s not nearly as well versed with his tongue, with his spoken syllables pouring out his mouth in a coherent, tender sort of way the first time around. And Alex deserves that, deserves the whole damn experience of it. He deserves pink flamingos and double rainbows and a big band playing the first song they kissed to while they stood in the center of fairy lights with a crowd crooning and crowing in the background.

Alex deserves it all and Henry doesn’t know how to give him any of it, but God he wishes he could.

“We look like a pair of stallions if I do say so myself Henryson,” Alex says, pulling Henry out of his romantic daydreams, and pinning him with a smile as bright as the bloody sun.

Gingerly, Henry reaches his arm out and twirls a finger into one of his curls, tugging slightly. “I suppose you’re decent. Perhaps Zahra won’t skewer you on her big night.”

“Hmm,” Alex smirks, saddling closer up to him, hips brushing against hips as he locks each of his hands on either end of Henry and dimples up at him, affecting that mischievous air that Henry’s always been weak for. “And tell me sweetheart, would you protect me if she harmed one little  hair on my perfect head?”

Henry exhales amusedly from his nostril, bending his head forwards to press against Alex’s own, and dragging his thumb across his plump bottom lip. “Dunno, I reckon you might’ve deserved it. You do have a cheeky mouth after all love. And your hands are a bit of a hazard.”

Alex leers right then, glittering with intent. “I bet you’d like to see what my hands could do to you.” He counters, sliding his palm to the front of Henry’s already pitched trousers, and as much as he does crave the silent offer, he suddenly gets the awful thought of Alex finding the weighted pocket and the ring embedded there, and no. Absolutely not! Henry will not propose to the love of his life in the middle of a sodding bathroom while in the midst of getting a handy!

In a flash, Henry’s moved so Alex is crowded against the shut doorway— the music louder here and clouding Henry’s mind slightly as he dips down to crash his lips against Alex’s own. Admittedly, it’s not their smoothest snog, more like a cacophony of spit and lips and teeth, but it still makes his every nerve endings go ablaze and his toes curl and his ruddy heart pulse unevenly. And Henry reckons that it’s just a side effect of merely being in the presence of Alex like this, full of intent.

Unlatching himself from Alex, Henry moves to mouth against his neck, tasting his skin that’s a bit soured by the endless cologne but pleasant enough if only Henry knows that its Alex’s supple skin beneath his grazing lips. 

“Ooo,” Alex pants out breathily, canting closer eagerly, and hands fisted in Henry’s curls. “Yeah, mmm. I like this too.”

Henry smirks to himself, snorting at him as he slowly moves apart so that there foreheads are touching once more. “You reckon you can stay quiet for me?” He asks lowly, pressing a none too delicate finger down his clothed chest before landing at the front of his trousers, and begins to circle the hardness growing there.

“Why?” Alex asks, dark eyes glinting and lips quirked into a cocky sort of grin. “You think you’re good enough to make me loud Henryson?”

The growl caught in Henry’s throat takes them both off guard, but it also makes Alex beam with pure mirth, so Henry only kisses him once more— hard and rushed and greedy— before he twists him around without warning and begins to kiss across the nape of his neck and the breath of his broad shoulders, stopped intermittently by a lapping tongue or tender teeth— as Henry also palms Alex’s front, unbuttoning his suit jacket to tossing it to the countertop, quickly moving to unbutton Alex’s shirt too, so Henry can drag a hand through his very hard, very naked skin, nipples pebbling under his ministrations, before he gingerly— methodically— undoes Alex’s trousers, falling along with his pants to the ground and shackling his ankles in place.

“I reckon I can, but I also need you to be quiet about it lest the others get concerned over your mewling,” Henry whispers, lecherous against Alex’s ear as the hand not playing with Alex’s nipple, grips his now fully hardened dick, pumping only slightly as he thumbs at the leaking seam. 

“Humph, I don’t— Oh. I don’t mewl!” Alex grumbles out, trying to rock his hips to get some friction going but instead getting increasingly redder with frustration at Henry’s unyielding wrist.

“Oh? You don’t?” Henry asks with a smug sort of grin as he quickly squeezes harder around his shaft, twisting and pumping,  making the other boy toss back his head, turning it so that his small yelp is muffled by Henry’s neck.

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later tonight, but for now if you don’t mind putting your hands against the door while I grab the lube?”

Alex glares at him with an air of absolute irritation, but agrees anyhow, kissing him deftly before pressing his hands against the door, bent slightly so that his naked arse is out for show, clenching and relaxing in a sort of sensual rhythm with anticipation. And Henry smiles at the lovely sight of it as he shuffles through the drawer they had tucked away their essentials the first day of coming back to DC for the wedding. He plucks out the jar of lubricant from the mess of other tools and a few toys, idly thinks of popping out the plug to tease but decides against it. He wants to feel Alexander, wants to really be inside of him.

“You are such a slow fucker Henry!” Alex barks from over his shoulder, still poised for a good shagging.

Henry snickers, flicking Alex’s nose endearingly before shedding off his own jacket and undoing his trousers. “Oi, I’ll show you slow.” He goads, rubbing a good amount of the clear liquid into his palm before he takes his own cock in hand and strokes leisurely, reasons he could really just come from the sight of Alex waiting for him, perfect and precocious and panting. Though it’s not much of a punishing considering that Alex’s pupils only grow that bit larger and his cheeks flush in a familiar, wanton way.

Henry smirks. “You’re enjoying yourself?”

“You’re fucking hot,” Alex sputters. “How can I not?”

Henry bites down on his bottom lip so not to appear too pleased at the retort, but he also can’t stay away from Alex for much longer, and just saddles up behind him, cloaking his fingers up with the lube hurriedly.

“You ready love?”

“Have been ready you dickwad.” Alex snipes, shaking his arse again for good measure. Henry just grins,  bending down to nip at his shoulder in penance as a singular finger circles around Alex’s fluttering hole, before he just dips it into the entrance up to his first knuckle, making Alex moan. 

“Shh,” Henry reminds him, clapping a hand against his mouth pointedly. “I love hearing you dear, but I don’t think either of us want to suffer through the ribbing the others will dole out.”

Alex nods, face grimaced but still eager as he rocks backwards, making it so Henry gets up to his second knuckle before reasoning that it’s about time for a second finger. 

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” Henry breathes out, can’t prevent the wonder from seeping into his voice as he stretches Alex out, just barely pulling out for a third digit before Alex’s chest rumbles with a sound of exasperation. 

“Just go in already.”

“Oh? yeah? You think you can take it?”

Alex swallows down, hard, before nodding quickly. “Please Henry, you’ve been playing with me for like hours.”

“It’s barely been five minutes,” he says wryly, laughing when in turn Alex only sticks his tongue out fumingly. “Right, right, well I suppose we do have a prior engagement.”

“Yeah, course. We don’t wanna be late? Think about how gauche!”

Henry chuckles once more, rubbing a new coat of lubricant to his cock before lining up to Alex. “You’re just afraid that Zahra’ll have your head on a plate.”

“Please, sweetheart, for the love of God can we not bring other people into the conversation while you’re getting ready to fuck me?”

Henry concedes with an abashed quirk of the lips, takes Alex’s flagging erection in hand and strokes it once and sure before he slowly inches into him. And fuck, Henry will never not love the sensation of Alex, in all forms. On him, against him, inside of him, around him. Alex is the headiest sort of drug and Henry doesn’t think he’d ever survive a withdraw, that he can ever not crave him in all his variations of light.

Breathing in deeply, Henry finally bottoms out, practically collapses over Alex as he tries to re-acclimate  himself to the tight, throbbing heat of him. It’s so bloody miraculous. 

“H— Alex nearly whines, shaking himself a bit. “Move, will you?”

“Oh, right,” Henry musters back up his focus, sliding out of him only partially before slamming back inside, is always afraid of hurting Alex. But then Alex squeezes on the wrist where his hands are resting on either end of his hips, and squeezes, And that’s as clear of an instruction as he can give while staying hush, hush. So tossing all caution to the wind, Henry thrashes into him without abandon, pulling out nearly completely and then pounding back inside in a graceless, unforgiving pace, and it’s enough for Alex to leap on his toes, for him to squeeze his eyes shut while his head rolls back on Henry’s shoulder, for his hands to shake on their perch against the increasingly rattling door. And some idl part of Henry’s mind— the one that isn’t swallowed up entirely by Alex and all the sensations he sparks to life within Henry— prays to God above that their friends aren’t paying any mind to the shut bathroom entrance.

“Yes, yes, yes Henry.” Alex moans out,  losing his footing when Henry pushes in that bit harder, that bit deeper, targeting exactly that nest of nerves within him, and he quickens his pumping of Alex’s dick, feeling buoyed when Alex comes without warning. Hot, white liquid pulsing out of him in a pulsing stream, and making it so Alex can only lie boneless against the doorway. And it doesn’t take Henry long to follow, an arm slung tightly  around Alex’s waste as he thrashes forwards, lost in the entirety of him, kissing the nudges of his spine as he catches for his release, nudged on by the pulsing and slickness and it’s just once more before Henry is coming also,  hurriedly pulling out as his own spunk spills across the expanse of Alex’s back and arse and the tops of his thighs. Henry stares at the picture of it with reverent eyes as he leans against the sink, breathing heavily.

“God, we are good at that.”

“Tell me about it,” Alex says, face flushed an absolutely glowing as he rummages for a couple hand towels, and then seemingly thinking better as he glances at them, and then his and Henry’s messy states.

“Second shower?”

Henry nods, “Think we ought to.”

“Right, well you wash me first because I think i’ll need like another ten minutes before I can move any extremities.”

Henry laughs and tugs him close for a quick kiss. God he loves him so much.

.-

The grandiose, Willard ballroom is dressed in ornate decorations and filled with sharply clad folks who are some of the top tear heads of Western politics, though for the most part they’re drown out by the familiar faces of Shaan’s family, and even more that either share Zahra’s nose or the shape of her eyes. It’s beautiful in its discrete, demure nature and it makes Henry’s heart flutter. He only wishes he had a decent sodding poker face because right then Beatrice, in all her smug glory, saddles up to him, and leers.

“You thinking about that wedding journal you had as a lad.”

Henry glares, fuming. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Your theme was red with golden accents wasn’t it?”

“Did I ever tell you that you were adopted.”

“You even had all these cute little sample cards for the invitations.”

“We found you in an alien species of barmy bints.” Henry continues to growl.

Beatrice laughs raucously, tossing back her chestnut curls and pinching his cheek like the doting older sister she’s always been. “You’re precious when you get all cross.”

“I hate you.”

“Nah, you really don’t,” she says loftily. “Now c’mon, Alex and Nora are trying to steal some flowers from the bouquet before Zahra notices, and we’re s’pose to be distracting the newly weds.”

Henry rolls his eyes long sufferingly. “We’re dating absolute lunatics, you do know that, right?”

Beatrice smiles— resigned— and hooks her arm through Henry’s own. “I know, we’re truly a mess.”

.-

If there was ever the picture of a glowing bride— beautiful and bright and breathtaking— Zahra would be the epitome of it. Her curls are pulled back into an elegant bun and her lovely features are only accentuated by the makeup rather than obscured by it, and she hasn’t let loose of Shaan’s hand for the whole reception. It brings a pang to Henry’s heart, not envy per se, but longing. Longing for what they have, for the pure, unadulterated simplicity of it. And it’s only settled when he thinks of Alex, knows that he has that precise kind of relationship with him. And God, he’s never wanted to show it off more.

“You guys having fun,” Shaan asks, pecking a kiss to Beatrice’s cheek and slinging an arm around Henry’s shoulder.

“’s a beautiful night,” Henry tells them, his voice vibrant and his heart full.

“Thank you sweets,” Zahra preens, brushing back the curls from his forehead and eyeing him speculatively when her fingers come back wet.

“Erm— Don’t ask?”

Zahra looks only mildly alarmed but fully understanding, humor twinkling in her dark eyes. “Ah, well then, speaking of which. You two mind informing your better halves that they aren’t slick, and they’re only lucky I put a decoy in the place of the real bouquet instead of actually punishing them.”

Laughter bubbles out of the foursome and Henry isn’t at all surprised that she’s always two steps ahead.

“Bloody hell, I told those dunces that they could never pull one over on you!” Beatrice groans, arms crossed and weight slung to her left hip. “But do they listen? No of course not.”

“We should probably tell them that they need to wait in line for the bouquet toss like the rest of us, yeah?” Henry asks her, smiling pleasantly at a new couple that’s meandered over to shake hands with the bride and groom.

“Oh no, let them deal with it on their own, we, my lovely little brother, will be drinking to forget.”

“How very British of us.” Henry snorts wryly. 

“Never said I wasn’t predictable,” she retorts, grabbing his wrist and carting him off to the open bar.

.-

It’s an hour later that finds a very disgruntled looking Alex saddling up to Henry with a very prominent frown, his hair covered with wayward petals that Pez has been tossing around without abandon for practically the entirety of the night. The venue’s dwindled down so that it’s only Zahra’s and Shaan’s nearest and dearest that are left. From the table’s he’s sat at Henry can see his mother holding a conversation with Luna and Leo that’s filled with laughter, and he sees June with her father trying to set up a new playlist to the speakers once the live performers had left. He can also spot Ellen and Zahra giggling like school girls while Shaan nods along, and kisses his now wife’s hand intermittently between the smiles he tosses Nora and Beatrice who are starting a ridiculous dance with a few others to the tune of the Peter Gabriel song playing out. 

It feels like the room has been  bathed in a sort of serenity that makes something warm and remarkable unfurl in Henry’s gut. An ambiance of love and nurture cradling them all together.

“You could’ve told us it was a ploy you dick.” Alex harrumphs for the umpteenth time in the past ten minutes.

“You should’ve known yourself,” Henry toots, a little too busy musing on how Alex’s long lashes kiss the tops of his cheekbones every time he blinks and how beautiful he looks in the moonlight shimmering through the wide partitions.

“How did she make it so they stung! That’s all I ask you!”

Henry smiles indulgently, moves forwards to kiss the hinge of Alex’s jaw to console him. “She’s a evil genius love, don’t let it upset you.”

Alex sniffs, still sulking but already beginning to relax his muscles. “Yeah, whatever, at least Pez caught it instead some random fuck.”

“He is happy with himself, it’s cute. Innit?” Henry says, flickering his eyes over to where his best friend's dragging a giggling June off to the dance floor.

“Mmm, yeah.” Alex says, tucking closer to Henry’s side. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Henry pulls back, pinning him with a one eyed squint. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Alex shuffles in his seat, cheeks flushed and eyes downcast. “The whole thing. Like it makes you think of the future and all of that crap.”

Henry swallows down the lump in his throat, feeling suddenly dazed. “Yeah, yeah it does.”

Alex looks up, smiling thinly. “So what? You want something like this? With the flowers and music and you in a white dress.”

Henry glares now, flicking Alex’s nose. “Oi, who said I’m the one in the dress?”

“Well sweetheart, you do have the legs for it,” Alex croons smugly, kissing the corner of Henry’s mouth tenderly and laughing when Henry begins to prod at his side.

“You’re an arse.”

“But you still do,” Alex asks. “Think about it I mean?”

Henry breathes out, caressing Alex’s cheek to try and infuse all the love and adoration he feels for him in that single touch. “I think about it every bloody day Alexander, I want you for forever.”

Alex’s shy grin transforms to it’s ordinary, megawatt brilliance, and he kisses him right on the mouth with fervor. “God I love you.”

The knot in Henry’s chest loosens, and it suddenly feels like he can breathe again, like the love he feels for Alexander isn’t drowning him with its intensity but coaxing him into wakefulness, into feeling alive for the first time in a long time. 

“I’ve got a ring,” he admits, speaking against Alex’s lips, and tugging him closer.

Alex pulls back a bit, brows hiked and gaze alight. “Oh yeah?”

“yeah, yeah I do. But I reckon if I propose to you in the middle of Zahra’s wedding she’d poach my head to a stake.”

Alex snorts. “You’re not wrong. But lucky us we’ve got a whole hotel filled with empty rooms.” 

Alex smirks wickedly and Henry feels his insides go abuzz. “Let’s go.”

And when Alex twines their fingers together, pulling him up and kissing him softly before they can rent out a room, Henry suddenly feels so very light.

[themagicalmysticalboy]

John and Paul had a big argument about Brian, Paul still cant forget about Spain. It's a very cold and raining night, after very intensing session of drinking John appears under Paul's house, but Paul isnt inside...The next morning Macca finds frozen wet and limp figure curled at his doorsteps.

a/n: this has lit been in my inbox for so long and i feel awful. So sorry anon. hope you’re still around to see it <3

Three minutes. 

That’s all it took for John to have Paul fuming. When the phone rang throughout the house he had half the mind to not answer at all, figuring it would be John. But now he was stuck on the line with a drunk and poorly apologizing Lennon. In reality, he was so incoherent that Paul wasn’t even sure if there was an actual apology buried in his mumbling. On the contrary, he seemed to be blaming Paul, if anything.

“Lemme jus- I’ll come… come over, yeah.” John hiccuped through his words.

“Don’t, alright? I’d rather not deal with you now.” He almost told John he wouldn’t be home, anyway, but that wouldn’t be clever. So, he kept his lips sealed on the topic. 

“It didn’t mean a thing, Paul. Brian was just there.” He said it as if it explained everything. 

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand tightening around the phone with a death grip. “I don’t want to hear how it happened.” His voice almost didn’t sound like his own. “I don’t want to hear you blame Brian if that’s what you’re at.” John tried to interrupt but Paul only raised his voice higher. “He doesn’t even know we were together!” Paul’s eyes widened as his mouth snapped shut. Would John catch it? Or was he too drunk to comprehend it?

Deafening silence made Paul’s heartbeat in his ears. “You said ‘were.’” John’s words came out slow and almost sober. “Were together, Macca.”

Paul swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears he wouldn’t let slip. There was no going back now. “Yes. We were together.”

He slammed the phone to the receiver just in time to clamp his hands over his mouth, holding in a sob. Rained poured down outside his window as tears slipped down his cheeks. All he could do was stare at the raging storm and wonder if there was any way to fix what was now so painfully broken. He thought of calling off his plans with Mal and just staying by the phone for another call from John. But that was pathetic. He had promised to watch the football match with Mal a week in advance. There wasn’t a good reason- or at least one he could say out loud- to cancel. There was also the issue of not being able to move. Paul seemed immobilized with sadness and fear, quiet sobs escaping him as he stared into the haze outside his window. 

He stayed by the phone for a while until a crack of thunder jolted him to life and he hurriedly wiped his cheeks free of tears. With some much-needed washing up in the bathroom, he was ready to go, wanting to leave before the storm became too much and he would be stuck in his house with only his thoughts. The idea of that terrified him into rushing through the house and hurriedly leashing Martha. She helped him in his hurry, not letting him think twice before tugging him along and to his car. 

They made it into the car, assaulted by the frigid rain, shivering. Paul cranked up the heat as soon as the car was running, rubbing at his arms. The car ride wasn’t long enough for him to get lost in his thoughts, thankfully, and when he arrived at Mal’s the man kept them busy with snacks and other guests and drinks. Paul easily dropped into social mode and left his strife with John in the back of his mind. He knew it would rear up as soon as he was home, maybe even just in his car, but he wouldn’t ruin Mal and everyone else’s fun while he was there. 

Whether it was the knowledge of having to face his own actions or the still-raging storm keeping him, Paul didn’t leave Mal’s house until very late into the night. Mal had suggested they play a board game to sober everyone up and it drug on until almost five in the morning. The rain was at a drizzle when Paul put his car into park. 

He wanted to wait just a bit longer for it to come to a halt but Martha was wiggling around like mad, whining and pawing at his arm. He sighed, letting his forehead hit the steering wheel. “Fine,” he breathed.

She shot anxious glances between him and the door until he undid his seatbelt to lean over and pop the passenger door open. She shot out of the car and into the darkness with a happy wag in her tail the instant she could, leaving Paul to stare after her. Exhaustion mingled with dread, making him unwilling to go to his house. He sluggishly got out of the car. As he leaned back in to grab his wallet, Martha began to bark.

He dragged out a long sight, head dropping, before snapping back up and yelling out for her. She only barked louder, followed by a pained whimper. The pitiful sound shot a spike of alertness into Paul’s core. He yelled out again as he ran but the dog had gone quiet. Fear was shoving his senses into full throttle and he bolted to his doorstep.

When he finally arrived, he was struck still. The droplets of water now moved in slow motion, the biting cold a distant memory. His dread filled the void left by his other senses.

A figure was curled up on his doorstep, Martha nudging gently. With a rough nudge and a nip at the hair, the figure's head tilted into the dim porchlight. The aquiline nose and auburn hair of his John was illuminated. His mouth just barely open, eyes softly closed.

All Paul could do was stare in shock and horror. The world was thrown out of pause when a trickle of water sent a shiver down his spine. He was suddenly aware the rain had picked back up and the cold was whirled up with a nasty wind.

Words were leaving his lips but he didn't know what he was saying or why he was talking. All he knew was that he had to get John inside. Martha, bless her, was ahead of Paul, biting on to John’s collar and pulling him towards the door.

In a flurry of movement, the door was thrown open and John was dragged across the threshold. With a deep huff of breath, Paul lifted John into his arms. “John? Johnny, come on, please!”

He continued to plead as he rushed to the nearest couch. Once laid out, John let out a groan before curling into a ball again. He was shivering like mad, nearly vibrating off the couch. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” Paul cooed softly as he stripped John of his soaking wet clothes. “Can you talk to me?”

“Where- wherewereyou.” His words rushed together in an airy gust before his teeth began to chatter.

Snatching up every blanket in eyesight, Paul wrapped him up into a tight bundle. “Do you need an ambulance? Should I call-”

“‘S fine.” His eyes cautiously opened, lulling around the room until they found Paul. “Where were you?”

“I’m phoning the ambulance,” Paul decided. He moved to leave John’s side but felt a strangely strong grip pull him back. He fell onto the cushion, sitting by John’s hip.

“I’m fine.” The words came out with a startling levelness, only to be followed by more chattering of his teeth.

Paul studied him, their eyes locked in battle. With a hum, Paul narrowed his gaze, “I’m getting you a warm washcloth.”

“Alright.”

Once a basin of hot water was filled and the fire was lit, Paul began his nursing. He fused over John as neither man uttered a word. Grabbing more covers and some pillows, Paul tucked him in tight and lifted his head to put down the pillows. All the while, Martha sat wearily at John’s feet.

Now thoroughly bundled, he ran fingertips along John’s temple and down to his jaw. “Sure you're alright?”

“I waited for you,” John said with malice, only to be betrayed by a faltering voice. Paul had not noticed the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath until just then. He was obviously no longer drunk, only sad and cold, but it must have taken a lot to pass out in the freezing storm.

“I was a Mal’s, love. Do you want a cup of tea? Or I could run a ba-”

“Stop!” John pushed at his mountain of covers and forced himself upright. “Get-” 

Paul grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him only to be pushed away. They both tumbled from the couch, hitting the hardwood with two distinct thuds. Martha let out a bark but didn’t move. 

Paul made to speak but as soon as he opened his mouth, John spat out, “Shut your bleeding trap and listen to me.”

His mouth was still hung open so he snapped it shut and gulped through a strained throat. John’s eyes danced viciously between his.

“I’m sorry! Alright? I’m sorry and I know I can never take it back but I am. I-” Tears were welling in his eyes. “It was so stupid. Stupid of me to try to shift the blame. Stupid of me to do it at all. But,” John’s hands were in his damp hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I love you.”

 John was breathing hard and Paul felt he wasn't breathing at all. There was a delicate sheet of glass creeping between them. A single mistake could shatter it to the ground and leave them bleeding. 

Much softer, slower, and steadier, John said, “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. Sure as hell don’t deserve you.” When Paul didn’t respond, John continued. “I was drunk when I came. Was quite intent on telling you off- maybe break a vase or two.” Paul huffed a pained laugh. “But I’m sober as I can be now. I just want you to… You should know how much I mean it when I say that I’m sorry. If you don’t want me any longer, that’s fine.”

The sheet of glass dissolved on the spot, melting into the wood and warming the space. There was a vague awareness of the short bursts of nervous laughter leaving his lips. All he could do was stare at the half-naked man on his floor that had just poured his heart out. He had no clue how much the thought of them being over had weighed on him until the moment the worry lifted away. Gathering himself for the sake of the confused Lennon, Paul scooted towards him and threw a cover over his shoulders. Biting hard on his own lip, Paul cupped John’s face with both hands. 

“You’re the stupidest man I have ever met.” He smiled with all the sincerity and adoration in his body.

“I’m what?”

Paul laughed again, nerves completely drained from it, his hands moving to John’s shoulder and head falling into his chest. He breathed in the man, pulling him between his legs to hug him tightly. His skin was still cold, his body still trembling. “First of all, that’s all you had to ever say. Second, I’m just glad you didn’t kill yourself in the cold.”

John nuzzled his nose into the crook of Paul’s neck. “I’m slightly offended that me not dying was your second point.”

Paul only held him closer. “I hate you so much. But you’ll always be the love of my life.”

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Pomegranate Seeds

Pomegranate Seeds Spotify Playlist

Summary: Jungkook thinks he’s found the perfect new roommate, but little doesn’t he know you’re just aching to corrupt him.

Warnings: oh boy...here we go, drug use (a supernatural aphrodisiac but it is consensually taken), dry humping, a real sloppy quick blowjob, unprotected sex, reader is a succubus so she’s kind of a top, corruption kink, Virgin!Jungkook, dirty talk

Wordcount: 4126 of pure filth

🔥 She got two little horns and they get me a little bit 🔥

"Did you...did you steal my shirt?"

You look down at yourself and you're pleased with what you see, his shift knotted above your bellybutton, a pair of cut-offs showing off your thick thighs. So why isn't he?

You frown, sticking your tongue out at him briefly. "I would say borrowed."

Jungkook clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck, a flush starting down his throat.

"Okay," he mumbles, and that's it. He retreats into his room like you aren't giving off all his favorite pheromone scents like musk and sweat and for some reason, hard plastic? You were able to target his lust triggers, that was what you'd been born for, after all.

You pout as you plop down on the couch in the apartment you share with your roommate and your newest mission: Jeon Jungkook.

He practically reeked of innocence, so pure and sweet it made your teeth ache, and you were dying to corrupt him.

Thing is, you're new to this - you'd only just turned 21, the age that you were able to starting practicing corruption, but for a baby succubus you thought your practice runs went pretty well.

Mark Lee still sent you an occasional sext after a year and all you'd done was wink and release some pheromones.

Just last week, in class, Jennie Kim had asked you to dinner and you hadn't even been trying, just absently smiling at her from across the room.

But you'd been working on Jungkook for months, moving into his apartment, and sure maybe you'd goofed by being a bit too eager and showing up before he'd actually posted the ad, but you'd played it off.

You'd shown up wearing ripped jeans and a hoodie that was only one size too small, showing the dip of your lower back when you turned to tour the apartment, and you would've sworn you could feel his eyes on you.

You'd even been careful not to come on too strong, and you'd been so tempted to leave the bathroom door ajar but your father, a respected incubi, had taught you the art of subtlety.

So what if you'd let him catch you dancing in your underwear in the kitchen that one time? Who doesn't slut drop while cooking ramen sometimes?

His blush and his strangled, "Sorry," when he'd bolted to his room had encouraged you, but still....nothing. Not even an accidental brushing of hands.

Today...you had a trick up your sleeve. Your father said such things are for amateurs, but you are an amateur, this is your first try with an actual innocent.

You walk to the kitchen and rattle the jar of pomegranate seeds. They glowed red and you smirk a little. Surely, he only needed a little push.

It's after dinner when he asks about them.

"What are those?" He asks, sitting impossibly far away from you at the head of the table.

You perk up, smiling. "My dad sent them. They're pomegranate seeds....from my hometown."

"Oh yeah?" He looks interested, and you inwardly squeal.

"You wanna try one?"

He gives you a sweet smile, and your heart melts a little.

"Aw, you only have a few. I wouldn't want to waste them. They remind you of home, yeah? That's important."

Your mouth is practically watering at how pure he is, but you hesitate when you grab the jar. There's this weird extra thump in your heart and you suddenly feel guilty for even thinking of tricking him.

"Jungkook...." You start, bringing the jar back to the table and sliding your chair up close to him.

He stiffens and you sigh.

"Yeah, Y/n?"

"What would you say if I told you these seeds are special? An... aphrodisiac, of sorts."

Jungkook chokes on his water and it spills down his throat, pooling deliciously at the cup of his collarbone.

Your tongue flicks out to wet your lips unconsciously, and for the first time, you see him focus on your mouth.

"I-I...I'd say that's... interesting." He looks away, focusing on his hand tightening around his glass on the table.

"Would you like to try them with me?"

His eyes shoot to yours. "What... what do they do?"

You hum happily a little, finally sensing his pheromones rolling off him. "Well," you say bluntly, "they make you horny. And also a little drunk. Imagine a few beers when you haven't been able to get off in a week."

Jungkook hides his face with one big hand, but he's smiling when he peeks at you between his fingers, his face pink.

"Give me one."

You draw in an excited breath, heat already pooling at the crotch of your cut-offs.

You feel so much lighter now that you've told him, that this is a decision he's made on his own.

When you pop one in your mouth, you can't help dropping him a wink, and his breath catches in his throat.

You actually weren't sure how much of an affect they'd have on you, but you're willing to risk it for your chance at success.

You take one between your fingers and offer it to him, and when he opens his mouth instead of his palm your brain stutters a little.

Oh, boy. This was going to be so much fun.

You drop it on his tongue and he makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat.

"Oh. It's sweet," he says softly, looking up at you and your knees go so weak you have to sit down.

You both end up on the couch, a movie playing in the background, and after a half hour you aren't feeling much different, maybe a bit fuzzy around the edges.

"Y/n?" Jungkook says slowly, and you look over at him.

"Hmm?" His eyes are on your legs, which are curled up under you, and you stretch them out slow.

He makes that pleased sound in his throat again.

"I...I want to say things, but I don't want to offend you." It seems like it takes a real effort to look up at your face, but he does and you can't help the soft smile that spreads across your face.

You hope you get to find out if he tastes as sweet as he acts, and you pivot to face him, careful not to touch him with your legs or feet but stretching them on the couch, flexing your thighs.

"I was upset when I saw you in my shirt."

You frown a little, but then he reaches out to circle your ankle with his hand, gently.

"You're not wearing a bra," he breathes, eyes darting to your breasts and then back up to your face.

You shake your head, smirking a little. "I'm not. I didn't think you noticed."

"I've been thinking about your tits all day," he blurts.

Your mouth parts and you sit up straight, watching his face. "You think about me?"

"All the time," he admits, nodding eagerly.

You swing your feet to the floor and he whines a little at the loss of just the contact of his hand on your ankle.

When you kneel down between his legs, he groans long and low and maybe the seeds were affecting you more than you thought because your skin feels hot at the sound.

"Tell me what you think about," you whisper, and he shifts on the couch a bit, looking down at you with wide, glassy eyes.

"I think about how you taste." He swallows hard.

"My mouth?"

"Your mouth. Your tits. Your cunt," he breathes, and you can almost see how the hell seeds start to take full effect, how he's flushed now not from embarrassment but from lust.

"Tell me more." You command and he shifts again and you can see the hard line of him against his leg in his jeans.

"I want to taste you everywhere. Everywhere. I want to slide my cock between your tits. I touch myself every night thinking of you. I want....I want you to touch me. Y/n, will you please touch me?"

You inhale sharply, because that's the sign, that's the sign that it's time to take his innocence, make his soul yours, but something stops you, even with the buzz in your head and the tingle in your body from the seeds.

"If this is only from the seeds...." You start, and he leans up to look right in your eyes, all earnest.

"I always want you, Jagiya. Wanted you the first time I saw you." He says, softly, and your chest aches.

You stand on your knees to kiss him, then, softly, and he moans into your mouth, tongue meeting yours sloppily.

You pull away long enough to climb onto his lap and when you grind your hot core against his erection his face looks almost pained, mouth slack.

You've got your tits in his face but he's still looking up into your eyes, waiting for permission and you take his hands and bring them to your hips. He squeezes almost instantly.

"Oh. Oh. You're so soft."

His voice is so quiet, almost awed and you lean forward to press your breasts into his face and he moans and turns his head to search for your nipple with his mouth, wetting the fabric of the shirt you'd stolen from him with his tongue.

Then his hands go up under it instead, cupping your breasts, and he drags his thumbs along the peaks of your nipples.

You moan softly and his hips twitch beneath you at the sound.

"You're so big and hard, Kookie," you croon, and roll your hips against him.

"Mmm, only for you. Only you make me this hard," he says earnestly, looking up into your eyes again.

"Do you want to fuck me, Kookie?" You ask in a purr, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging at his hair, just a bit.

"Y/n...I want to fuck you so bad," he says breathlessly. "But..." He licks at his lips, searching your face.

You frown. "But what, baby?"

"I might not be very good. I'm... I feel...I feel hot, like I might come the moment you touch me."

He's gone all stiff on the couch, canting his hips away from yours.

You cover your mouth to hide a smile and lean down to murmur in his ear.

"That's okay. The seeds... they help your refractory period. If you want....we could fuck all night. Over and over again."

Jungkook bucks hard beneath you, hands clamping down on your hips, and you yelp in surprise.

"Fuck. Fuck," he whispers, looking "You're my dream girl, you know that?"

His big brown eyes are glassy and soft, and when he puts one hand on your cheek you turn your face into it.

You aren't sure what this new feeling is, this warmth in your chest and throat, how looking down at his face makes your heart skip.

You'd expected the dirty talk, after all, what else were the devil's pomegranates for? But it's peppered with such sweetness when he starts to babble, stuttering a little.

“I see your face every morning when I open my eyes, you know? You’re so sexy. So beautiful. When I saw you in my shirt this morning I thought my heart was going to burst. I’ve never done this, you know. Any of this. I’ve never gotten past second base but I want you so bad, Y/n. I want you to give me your body...want to give you mine. I’ve never felt this way. . I-I-I want...would you give me your heart, too, Y/n, if I asked?”

You make a surprised sound in the back of you throat at how your heart lurches at his words.

Your job was to take his soul, feed off his sexual desperation, to corrupt his innocence...but you’d never considered his heart. Or your own.

You deflect, not knowing what to do with the way you feel, and you climb off of him and he whines, reaching out to you.

You can’t help smiling, grabbing his hand to tug him up. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?”

Jungkook blinks slowly. “Yours or mine?” He asks, eagerly, and you laugh at how he bounces on his heels.

“Mine,” you call over your shoulder, but when you get to the edge of the couch he grabs you, spins you around and bends you over the couch arm, stepping to spread a thigh between your legs and then rocking his hips up into you, doubled over, long moans coming out of his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m sorry but your ass in those shorts, Y/n...I need...” He ruts into you again and his hand is gentle on your lower back so you straighten up and raise your hand around his neck to tug his hair again.

Jungkook grunts and lets you slip out, watching you with desperate eyes.

“Patience, baby,” you croon, and plant a kiss on his lips before tugging at his hand again to lead him to your bedroom.

He stands patiently at the edge of the bed, all nervous energy, bouncing on his heels and you wiggle out of your shorts and he hitches in a long breath.

“Oh, god,” he says, almost mournfully, when you climb up on the bed.

You start to tug off his shirt and he shakes his head, making a grunt of protest.

“Leave it on, please,” he says politely.

He’s looking you up and down when he climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees and he gives you a desperate look.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I-I-I don’t know where to start,” he admits. “I want to touch you everywhere. I want to do everything with you.”

You laugh again, and a big smile spreads across his face when you sit up, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

He lifts his arms to let you and when you spread your hands over the expanse of his skin, he’s so hot to the touch you’re a bit worried that the seed was too much for his body.

“You...you feeling okay, Kookie?”

“Hot,” he mumbles, watching your face as if it’s something precious. “I’m just a little hot.” 

You don’t like the panic that climbs up your throat, you know how to fix this, you’re a succubus, after all, your body was born to cure the effects, but his words keep repeating in your head, all the sweet things he’s said to you, even suffering from the effects of the world’s strongest aphrodisiac.

Could you do this? Could you do this, knowing what it might mean for him?

“Lie down for me, baby. I’m going to make it better, yeah?”

He nods and obeys, stretching out on the bed, and when you straddle his thighs and unbutton his jeans, he lets out a quiet whimper.

He’s sweating from the effects of the seed, his honeyed skin glistening. You wonder if he knows how good he looks, how much your succubus senses are screaming at you to ride him until he cries, how much you’re at war with your heart pounding against your breastplate.

“Wait,” he says, but he doesn’t make any move to stop you when you reach into his boxers to free his cock, standing hard and pretty against his stomach, curved up slightly, and damn if it isn’t as pretty as the rest of him.

“Wait, wait,” he chants. “I want to see you. Want to taste you,” he babbles, but when you circle him gently with your thumb and forefinger a groan rumbles from his chest and he throws his head back, covering his face with his forearm.

“In a minute, baby,” you mumble, distracted, trying to focus on helping him instead of the buzzing through your body, the want. 

You lie between his legs on your forearms and he spreads his thighs so obediently and you let out a little moan.

He moves his arm enough to peek down at you and his hips buck involuntarily. “Shit,” he pants. “Shit, are you gonna- oh, fuck-”

He cries out your name when you lick up the seam of his balls up the underside of his shaft, taking the head of his cock in your mouth.

You imagine his heart rate is skyrocketing, and you don’t waste time, ignoring how fuzzy your head is from the seed and his pheromones rolling over you in a wave.

You take him deeper, gagging a little when he bucks his hips, and he mumbles apologies between low moans.

“Oh, god, oh god, oh please-”

You use your hand in tandem with your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip and it’s only a moment before he’s crying out, over and over.

“Ah ah ah-”

He leans up, trembling all over, trying to cup your face in his hands but you shake your head and take him deeper, stroking his foreskin up and down, on a mission.

God, his come tastes so sweet, just the right amount of salt and musk and you keep moving your head until his cries have turned into faint whimpers before you pop off him.

His broad chest is heaving but when you curl up next to him and kiss his cheek, he’s cooler than before, and you sigh in relief.

You press your thighs together a bit when he turns his head to look at you, giving you a lazy smile. 

“Thank you,” he breathes, and you smile at him.

“Feel better?”

“I feel amazing. I feel...” he frowns a little. “You’re not leaving, are you? You can’t - I want to-” he struggles with his words, head spinning, and you sit up, crossing your legs under you.

You shake your head. “I’m not going anywhere. I need...I need to tell you something.”

You look him over and shake your head again to clear it, trying not to think about how wrecked he looks already, sweat gleaming on his muscled chest, cock still hard and leaking precum against his hard stomach.

He struggles as if he’s trying to sit up but you push him back down.

“Just...just let me show you something.” 

You tilt your head down into his view, parting your hair to show him the nubs of your horns, mottled red and black, shaved down before you left home for your mission.

He makes a little surprised noise, but otherwise, doesn’t react. “Are those...are those...”

“Horns,” you say miserably. “I’m a demon, Jungkook. A succubus, actually, and I was supposed to...I wanted to feed off you. I wanted to corrupt you.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you put your hair back into place, hide your face with your hands. You’re not sure why you’re telling him this, you know it’s against the rules, you know he’ll probably yell and kick you out, but you can’t do this, not without him knowing the risks.

“Oh. Oh.”

When you peek at him through your fingers, his lip is trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he says brokenly, and you frown, moving your hand from your face.

There are tears standing in his eyes.

“I’m not good enough, yeah? You don’t want me? You got stuck with me and-”

Tears are springing to your eyes and you shake your head violently, scrambling to straddle his lap and kiss him over and over, all over his face.

“No. No. You’re perfect. You’re so perfect. I just...I didn’t want to use you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you. If I feed from you, you might...you might get addicted to it, so I should just go and-”

He cups your cheek to caress your jaw with his thumb, eyes so big and wet and dark you could drown in them.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “Don’t you see? I already am.”

A sob hitches in your chest. “You’d...you’d want me anyway?”

“Of course I do. Of course I want you, Y/n. You want my soul? You can have it. It was half yours the moment you smiled at me,” he says fiercely, and leans his head up to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth. your body reacting after you’d been denying it so long, and you know once he sobers up he’ll probably kick you out of his house but so what? You’d failed, anyway.

You roll your hips against him and he’s hardening again already. He sighs against your mouth, a happy sound that makes your heart feel lighter.

“You can feed off me forever, Y/n, please, we can spend days in bed, please, please corrupt me,” he babbles when you pull away. 

You groan and roll your hips again, spreading your wetness against his cock and he hisses through his teeth.

“God, I bet your cunt feels like heaven even though you’re from hell, yeah? Please. Please.”

He puts his hands on your hips, lifting you up and canting his hips toward you, whining, and you bite your bottom lip, torn.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Jungkook-”

“I do. I do. I don’t care. I don’t care if it damns me forever, I want you. I-I-I love you, Y/n.”

Goddamnit, he’s so earnest and sweet and you can’t say no. You can’t deny him anything.

“Okay. Okay, baby.” 

You grip his cock at the base and slide down on him, clenching down immediately from hours of teasing him and yourself.

A strangled moan rips from his throat.

“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, this is...this is...” He clenches his jaw, hips bucking beneath you so hard that you have to brace your hands on his chest to keep from toppling over.

You lean down to kiss and bite at his throat and he whimpers, his hips rolling under you desperately.

“Can I...I need to...” He huffs out a breath in frustration when he can’t get the words out and you laugh a little.

“You wanna be on top, yeah, baby?” 

He nods eagerly and flips you over, kissing you so hard your lips feel bruised and then kissing anywhere he can reach, your collarbone, the swell of your breast, catching a nipple in his mouth and moaning against your skin.

Your breath is coming faster, and now it’s you who can’t stop moaning, finally having him where you want him, finally having him inside you, wrapped around him like a vice, after months, and you let yourself go.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, and he drops down to cradle your face in his hands, moving only his hips.

“You-you....you’re so hot, Jagiya. So hot and tight and wet.”

You feel almost satisfied for the first time in months, your stomach coiling with need.

You finally come when he kisses you again, biting at your lip and your vision goes blurry for a moment. 

He starts to move faster when he feels you clenching around him, whimpering, almost as if he’s in pain. “It’s better than I ever dreamed, you coming around my cock, Jagiya, you’re so perfect. My dream girl.”

He kisses up your throat as he pistons into you, moving his hands under your ass to get deeper. When he comes he bites down on your neck and you cry out.

When he pulls out almost immediately, you frown, whining at feeling empty.

But he slides down your body, dipping his tongue into your bellybutton, and you gasp.

"I want to know what we taste like together," he says simply when he settles between your legs, and you think maybe he's the addictive one, after all.

🔥🔥🔥

For weeks, you think he'll wake up one day and kick you out, tell you to go to hell where you belong, but he stays sweet as sugar no matter how gray his soul gets from your corruption.

He pouts so much when you try to go back to your own room that you end up moving your stuff into his, and he uses the extra room as a gym, having to work out constantly if you aren't home or he isn't busy so that he doesn't ache with want for you.

You keep thinking you'll get used to him waking you up by rutting into your lower back, his breath hot against the back of your neck, but every time, it's a pleasant surprise.

You work it out, despite all the obstacles, because he always kisses the tip of your horns before he leaves for class and he accepts all the darkest parts of you, lets you feed off him, indulges your every whim.

When you come home from class and he is holding a pair of leather handcuffs in one hand and your jar of pomegranate seeds in the other, you've never felt your heart so full.

[despairofthefuture]

Despair of the Future: Prologue

Knock knock knock!

A series of knocks on the door earned Yasuhiro's attention, causing the Ultimate Clairvoyant to turn his head towards the noise. He threw his legs over the side of his bed and stretched his arms over his head before standing and walking over to his door. When he opened it, he was surprised at who was on the other side.

"Junko!" The future teller exclaimed. "H-hey! What's up?"

The Ultimate Fashionista beamed at him, flashing him a peace sign. "Yo! I'm great, Hiro! Hope I didnt bother you!"

Hiro shakes his head, standing to the side to allow Junko entry. "No, no! I was just surprised to see you! Like, no offense or anything, but I wouldve thought youd be too good to spend anytime with someone like me!"

Junko raised a brow as she walks into his room. "That sounds like if anyone were to take offense itd be you."

Hiro scrunched his eyebrows as Junko continued.

"Anyway, I stopped by cause I was wondering if you could read my future!"

The older Ultimate blinked in surprise. "Wait, really?" He asked. "No one ever takes me up on that offer!"

The fashionista shrugged, looking around the boy's room. "Eh, I think they're overreacting. I mean, most fortune tellers are lucky to get a five percent accuracy rate. The fact you have thirty percent is really impressive!" She turns to him, still grinning. "And I have something I really wanna know if it comes true!"

Hiro couldnt help but smile, happy someone finally recognized his talent. "In that case, sure! I'd be more than happy to tell your future!" He told her, going over to his desk and gathering his clairvoyant supplies. "And since you're one of my friends, and the only one to recognize how amazing my abilities are, I'll even do a reading for free! Hows that sound?"

The pig tailed girl's smile widened. "Aw, that's really sweet of you, Hiro! Thank you!"

Hiro shrugs as he sits cross legged on the floor and lays his supplies in front of him. "Ah, it's no biggie." He assures her, patting the ground in front of him to signal for her to sit as well. When she does, the fortune teller beams at her. "Alright! What do you say we start with a simple palm reading? That way I can get a good feeling for if this thing you wanna happen will come true!"

Junko nods. "Sounds good to me!" She agrees, and holds her right hand out to him, palm out.

Hiro takes her hand in his own and, taking one of them, begins tracing the inside of the girl's hand. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the lines he feels as he tries to make a connection to Junko's future.

~~~

Screaming.

Crying.

Curses.

These are the only things Yasuhiro can hear.

Blood.

The scent burns his nose, causing his eyes to tear up. The smell is overwhelming, as if he were standing in a pool of it up to his waist.

Panic rises in the clairvoyant's chest, and his head shoots around, desperate to see something, to find where he is.

He wished he hadnt.

Sayaka was propped up against the bathroom wall, a kitchen knife protruding from her stomach with blood splattered around the room, and on the idol's body.

Junko-no. That had to be Mukuro. Her telltale freckles gave it away, despite her attempt to disguise herself as her twin-impaled by spears and left lifeless on the gymnasium floor.

Leon, Hiro's closest friend, was pelted by baseballs, his body left battered, bruised and bloody tied to a pole.

Chihiro, bludgeoned by a dumbbell and tied by an extension cord.

Mondo, reduced to nothing but butter.

Taka and Hifumi, their heads caved in.

Celeste, burned to cinders.

Sakura, her own life taken by poison.

These images flooded his mind. No matter where he looked, he saw them. His friends, his classmates, the ones he cared about dearly, dead in brutal ways.

Yasuhiro clamped his hands over his mouth, feeling bile rise into his throat. Before anything could come up, he saw one last image, and this one caused his blood to run cold.

Junko, the one he was reading the future of, stood at a podium. She was proudly proclaiming how this was all her doing, how she wanted all the world to feel such despair, and how she loved watching them all kill each other to escape a world that was in ruins.

And suddenly he was back.

~~~

"Gah!" Hiro let out a scream as he gasped for air. His hand grasped at his chest as he looked around frantically. The comforting scenery of his room relaxed him slightly, and his heart slowly began beating normally again.

"Hiro? Are you alright?" Junko's voice caused Hiro to jump and look over to her. The girl had her head tilted. "What did you see?"

The clairvoyant stared at her, the images he saw before invading his mind, nearly causing him to panic again. He managed to swallow it back down. "A-ah, yeah. I-Im fine! Y-you uh, dont have to w-worry about a thing! Everything you want g-goes off without a hitch!" He told her shakily.

Junko furrowed her brow, but at his answer her face brightened. "Really?! Shit, nice!" She stood up. "I think that's all I need. Thanks so much, Hiro! You're the best!" She smiled at him and waves. "You take care now, you look like you've seen a ghost!" She giggled before opening Hiro's door and leaving.

And then Hiro was alone.

As soon as he heard the door closed, the fortune teller shot to his feet and began panicking. "W-what the hell did I just see?!" He exclaimed, pulling at his hair. "All my friends...they...they were dead! And...so brutally! And Junko..." His face paled. "...She did that. She caused all of that pain, that...suffering!" He shook his head, gripping it tightly with his hands. "No. No that cant be true. It cant!"

"Tch, now you dont believe in your abilities?"

Hiro whirled around at the voice, and he froze at the image of his best friend, Leon Kuwata.

"L...Leon?"

The red haired boy smirked and waved. "Hey, Hiro! Wassup, bro?"

The clairvoyant just stared at him. "Wh...I...I dont understand. How did you get in my room? Why are you floating? A-and why are you transparent?!"

The baseball star rolled his eyes. "Wow, dude, you really arent the most observant." The ginger moved closer to his friend, getting right into his face, which caused Hiro to take a step back. "I'm dead, Hiro. I'm a ghost."

Yasuhiro's eyes widened. "Wh...what?! No! Hell no, that cant be true! I just saw you this morning!"

Leon held his hands up. "Whoa whoa, calm down, dude!" He tried to soothe the older man. "I'm not that Leon! I mean, I am, but not?" He scratched his head. "Its...complicated." he shrugged before continuing. "Basically I'm from the future. You know those visions you saw? Yeah. If they come true, that's what's gonna happen to me and all our friends." His expression becomes serious. "And you're the only one who can stop it."

Hiro's eyes widened even further, and he took several steps back. "What?! What the hell?! Are you crazy?!" He exclaimed. "If all of this is true, a-and I'm still not convinced this isnt all just a fucked up dream, how the hell am I of all people gonna stop it?! You know me, dude! I'm not brave, or smart, or strong or anything!"

Leon sighed. "Hiro, you're the only one who knows Junko's plan. You're the only one who can see me. You have to do something to stop her, or it wont just be our class that gets fucked over. She's gonna destroy the whole world."

Yasuhiro freezes. "The...the whole world?" He repeated, his voice a low whisper. He felt like he was going to faint. This was all too much. The fate of the world was on his shoulders? What the hell was going on?

Leon watched his best friend and frowned. "Look, I can tell you're overwhelmed. Obviously you need some time to process all of this, so take it. I'll come back later. Just...you gotta think about it."

As the redhead finished his sentence, Hiro watched as he began to disappear. "W-wait, Leon!" The brunette exclaimed, reaching his hand out towards him. "Dont go! I-Im still confused!"

But despite his pleas, Leon vanished before his eyes. Hiro stared at the spot the ghostly vision of his friend had been moments ago.

Suddenly he collapsed to his knees, the exhaustion of having learned all of these things finally catching up to him.

Yasuhiro stares blankly into space, running through everything once more in his mind. He had no idea how to process this.

And then he heard it.

The quiet whispers of many spirits as they begin making contact with him.

Yasuhiro Hagakure is now open for questions!

[drawlfoy]

okay so i apologize beforehand for how long this is going to be but here we go,

uhhh hi! it's you favorite anon! do you remember me? it's been a while.

how are you? i genuinely hope you're doing well and settling into uni comfortably, i really missed talking to you.

i think you're on hiatus right now and might not be checking your inbox, but when you do, i hope this message find you.

so... as you know detention retention is literally one of my favorite fics if not my #1 favorite. if you also remember. i had only read the first two parts and didn't read the 3rd part (the first part of the finale) because i was waiting for it to be fully posted. but sadly by the time it was posted (august 25th i think?) uni was already around the corner and i had to clean my depression room since i have put it off all summer, and by the time i finished cleaning august 28th (yes, it took me 3 days to clean my depression room, no you're not allowed to judge me) i went back to uni literally the next day. and as a college student yourself, you know how it literally swallow every hour of every single day, and i got busy and didn't have time to read it. and even tho i have a quiz AND a midterm this week (and i haven't studied for either yet) i decided it's finally time to read it (also, the ocotber blues were starting to get to me & i needed some kind of serotonin so i don't fall in this month's hole again, gosh i hate october.) sorry about the rant anyway,

i finally started reading the first part of the finale and here are some comments/ notes i wrote while reading that i thought i should share! (btw i read the whole thing from the beginning to the end, but i am only sharing notes about the 1st & 2nd part of the finale since i already shared my thoughts with you about the first two chapters) enjoy!

-the "you’re just kinda not having a great time during this chapter" in the author's note made me giggle loudly, also dark harry??? sign me

tf up (i should note that i am saying this pre-reading)

-"she was at least not going to fail Draco...not when the rest of the world had betrayed him"

s t o p🥺 i always think about that if headcanon 6th year draco malfoy had someone, anyone who cared about him this much and showed it? so many things would've changed. my baby had to go through all of that alone and it breaks my heart.

-never mind harry can fuck himself lmao

-WHAT THE FUCK HARRY??? WHY IS HE ATTACKING US

-"He’d cast a protection spell on her. In the middle of a duel that she was hardly formally a part of, he cast a protection spell on her" it might be because i am mentally ill, but i am NOT okay

-"Her cry of pain prompted Draco to immediately turn his attention from Harry, angling his body towards her instead, an indistinguishable expression etched into his face as he took in the bloodstained white sleeve of her arm." MISS GIRL GO SLOW ON MY FEELINGS I CANT TAKE ALL OF THIS AT ONCE?!?!??1?1?1

-"SECTUMSEMPRA!" OH FUCK YOU POTTER

-"A lump began growing in her throat again as she realized just how lonely she was." haha way too realitable bestie...

-aw! i love the little back story of how we became friends with ron!!!

-STOP YOU ACTUALLY LISTENED TO MY SUGGESTION AND MADE IT WORK FOR LUNA TO BE PART OF THE FANFIC??? THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY THANK YOU!!! <3

-"No wonder they call her Loony Lovegood." oh hell nah, that is some shit that hermione might say, never us tho. i would NEVER disrespect my girl luna like that

-"I was actually coming here to have a chat with him about you,” said Luna. “I think it’s terribly unfair how your friends are treating you. I thought that Marvin might know what to do. He always seems to." 🥺 uhh you did luna so good & fair in this story! that's definitely something luna lovegood would say

-"My mother had this saying about kindness,” said Luna softly. “She told me that it’s easy to be kind to people you already love. But you can really tell how caring someone is by how they treat those who are different." wow.

-UHH BESTIE THE LUNA PART WAS AMAZING THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO MY SUGGESTION AND ADDING HER I ENJOYED EVERY PART OF OUR INTERACTION WITH HER!!!

-the whole broom closet scene? CHEFS KISS

-"would choose you over anyone else here and that’s scary and ohmygodIcan’tstop--" THE SECOND HAND EMBARRASSMENT PLEASE

-"using his free hand so he could thumb away the tears that were collecting on her cheeks." MISS GURL

-"Purity" LMAO

-"You have really nice hands" kms

-"Her words stopped abruptly as Draco silenced her--not with his hand, but by placing his lips on hers" OH MY GOD I THINK I FORGOT HOW TO BREATH HELP KAKASKAKSJSKAJSJ

-everything about the veritaserum scene. wow just wow. that scene own my ass.

-"No." CAN I PLEASE HAVE ONE GOOD THING IN MY LIFE?? i am begging

-the part where draco was sending her mixed signals? it hit me close to home bestie😁 i have been, there done that lmao

-THE ENDING OF THE FIRST PART OF THE FINALE BROKE ME WHERE IS MY HAPPY

ENDING DEE???

-oh my god. the fact that you mentioned me at the end of the chapter is making my heart do things sksjaksjsk :( this made me sooo happy you don't even realize, to be mentioned by one of my favorite fanfic writers saying that i inspired them with things in MY COMFORT FANFIC? :( made my whole fucking month. scratch that, made my whole fucking year. this means a lot to me, and this is definitely my favorite chapter, thank you dee :(<3

-------------

-last chapter. god i am so not ready to say goodbye.

-i love ron :(

-lmao it was hermione that i couldn't stand in this fic but now harry is seriously getting on my nerves

-why are we apologising to HER? like okay i get it we have feelings for her childhood bully but it's like we can't control how we feel??? meanwhile she's been a terrible friend to us and that's definitely something she CHOSE to do

-"Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls." BESTIE THIS FANFIC IS STARTING TO FEEL TOO MUCH LIKE MY REAL LIFE HAHAHA I AM NOT OKAY

-"There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…" Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. "The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood." a love triangle with jealous harry and draco??? sign me tf uppp

-"I didn’t know where else to go." SLAPS EVERYTIME

-"I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected," she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. "I’m not that stupid." this feels like a personal attack lmao

-"I’m kidnapping your mom." LMAOOO???

-not him getting upset that she didn't get that he likes her too like buddy???🤨you rejected her what were you expecting, of course she is going to brush all of these things off because she doesn't want to look pathetic SO MAN UP AND TELL HER TO HER FACE

-his family ring. IM NOT OKAY

-i really love our friendship with ron aw

-"She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time." why does my heart hurt lol

-She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction. i am soft.

-"I was wondering when you’d show up," he whispered when he pulled away.🥺

-She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

"And so he did." i can't believe it's actually over :(

-------------

i genuinely feel speechless. finishing this feels so bittersweet. this fanfic will always have a special place in my heart. the characters, the situations, the feels and even you. it all feels so real and it touched me so deeply. thank you dee for writing something so good that i can use to escape from this world when things get hard.

from the bottom of my heart, thank you <3

sending love & hugs as always x

-🌟

hi there :) first of all, i’m so sorry for how long i took to respond to this! i took a long break from my blog bc school has genuinely been kicking my ass (never take graph theory if you don’t have to 😶). it sounds like you too understand this v well sndksjd. and of course i would literally never judge you for having to clean your room that is v v relatable 😭 i was reading this while i was walking around campus and literally smiling like an idiot the whole time. thank you for making my entire month—i really do appreciate the ideas you gave me for the last two parts :)

how is uni doing ???? is it getting a little better? i would love to hear from you even tho i know it took me a long time to respond (i’m going to be back on this account more!!)

[phoenixhalliwell]

Waking Up In Vegas

Pairings: Benny Miller X Gender Neutral Reader (I have given them a call sign ‘Tink’ cos I love that nickname lol)

Word count: 2490

Author’s Note: Tumblr is being a wee weirdo and I cant find the link for this fic and my other frankie one for my masterlist so I have to report again *cries*

Archnemesis Benny and reader wake up the morning after a wild night in Vegas with the boys to a surprise revelation.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG 

 It takes a second to realise that the noise isn’t just your head pounding but in fact someone knocking rapidly at the door. A whimper leaves you as you try not to throw up. You wiggle around the bed, trying to get loose from the heavy blankets but fail miserably.

“Please, stop….too loud. Dying” is all you’re able to croak out. Your mouth is drier than the desert and a one man band is marching in your head. Looking down you realise that it is not a blanket weighing you down but an arm. An arm that is now pulling you backwards to firmly press you against their warm chest. A groan comes from behind you and a face  nuzzles into your throat. You can feel the panic starting to build in your chest.

'Oh god, oh god. What the fuck!’ You are brought out of your freak out by a familiar voice.

“Are you going to open the door willingly Tink? Or am I going to have to come in there myself!”

Frankie! Relief rushes through you at your saviour. Frankie is a good guy, he won’t give you shit for this like the other boys. It’ll be swept under the rug and no one else has to know. That’s why Frankie is your favourite. The person behind you suddenly makes their displeasure at being rudely woken known.

“Will you shut the fuck up Fish, some of us are trying to sleep”

A coldness rushes through you. NO. FUCKING. WAY. Not him. Please not him. Slowly turning in the arms that have you in a death grip, you let out a low moan. Benny Miller is lying there in all his glory. He looks almost angelic with the way the morning sunlight hits him just right, making him glow. But you know the truth.

That man is the fucking DEVIL.

To say you and Benny dislike one another was an understatement. There is a long standing feud between you and the younger Miller that goes so far back you can’t quite remember how it started. You were originally a medic under the command of his brother Will, but over time (with Will vouching for your skills) you’d been pulled into other little jobs that involved his old army buddies and his dipshit little brother. You were welcomed into this little make shift family with open arms (well by most people anyways).Will, Santiago and Frankie - you thought the world of.  Benny…. let’s just say you wouldn’t piss on if he was on fire. There was just something about Benny that just irks you. The way he calls you names and winds you up until you explode and end up being separated by Will who is sick of both of your shit. That god damn cocky grin rubs you up the wrong way. The way he thinks he’s god’s gift to mankind and struts about. Sure, he is a handsome man and is talented at his profession.He can be kind when he wants to be. He’s loyal and he’ll have your back if the situation calls for it,  but it doesn’t mean he has to show off all the fucking time! He’s a god damn pain in your ass!

So to wake up this morning and find out you two have evidently slept together causes a small part of you to die inside. This bastard is never going to let you hear the end of it. You try to cast your mind back on what actually led you to your current predicament.

You and the boys were spending the weekend in Vegas for Santiago’s bachelor party. The wild stallion had finally been tamed and he wanted one last hoorah with his family before the new chapter of his life. The original plan was to have a nice dinner at the Bellagio before hitting up the tables in hopes of winning some cash. That part you could remember, it is the rest that comes in drips and drabs.

The chant of “Shots! Shots! Shots!” echoes in your mind and there is still a faint taste of tequila in your mouth. 'That explains why I can’t remember jack shit. Did we do Karaoke?’ You can see Frankie and Benny screeching “I want to know what love is ” with Will swaying along and Santi throwing money at the them from the front of the stage. 'Why can I hear bells ringing?’ There is also a familiar body ache you know the exact cause of. More flashes come to mind that make your heart race : Stumbling into walls, the desperation of trying to undress quickly, a hot breath on your neck, hands gripping your waist, filthy words being whispered into your ear….

'I’m never drinking again’

The banging at the door starts again, Frankie is clearly pissed at being kept waiting.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your marital bliss but check out is at 11 and I know for a fact neither of you fuck heads have packed”

Marital bliss? Who the hell is married?

You eyes drift down to your left hand and its suddenly hard to breathe. There is a nice new addition to your ring finger. A gold band that sure as shit was not there yesterday. This seems like the perfect moment to start screaming. Benny is up in an instant, scanning the room for the unknown threat. Once he realises it’s just the two of you, his body relaxes and he scrubs his hand over his face. It takes him a moment to notice the feeling of cold metal on his skin and he stares down at his hand, an unreadable look on his face. You are just able to hear him whisper

“Fuck, its real”

This whole situation is suddenly too much and everything becomes blurry as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel yourself start to hyperventilate and Benny is at your side in an instant trying to console you.

“Come on sweetheart you need to calm down. Feel my chest and breathe with me yeah? In… and out…. It’s ok I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurances over and over again. You try to focus on the sound of his deep voice, try to follow his instructions to help regulate your breathing. Gradually it returns to normal and you slump forward into Benny’s arms suddenly exhausted. He rubs his hand up and down your back, somewhat soothing you. You  feel him sigh before he turns his face into your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your head. It suddenly occurs to you that Benny has never been this gentle with you and your heart clenches a little. You feel him pull away from you and have to stop yourself from squeezing him tight.  You stand there for a few seconds in silence before you hear the door opening behind you. Frankie must have found the spare key to your room.

“Are you guys still alive in here?” he asks timidly, glancing between  you and Benny,  eyes zoning in on how close the both of you were.

“Yeah man, we’re good.” Benny  replies, moving to stand on the other side of the room.

“Look I am really sorry to rush you’s but Will’s anxious to get on the road and he might end up murdering Santi before the wedding if we all don’t hustle” Frankie says apologetically.

“I’ll catch you guys downstairs. I won’t be long” Benny grabs his things off the floor before making a break for the door, leaving you and Frankie to stare at each other awkwardly.

“Not a word Morales” you threaten.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Tink. Let’s pack your stuff and get the fuck out of dodge yeah?”

Like you said. Frankie was always your favourite.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover breakfast. Those little shits planned it so you and Benny are forced to sit side by side in the booth. Frankie is looking somewhat sympathetic when Santi slides a piece of paper over to you with a shit eating grin. It’s photographic evidence of the worst decision of your life. You still weren’t sure how you guys ended up in the little white chapel saying the big 'I Do’. None of the boys seem to remember either or were just refusing to give up any information about it in case they incriminated one of their brothers.

'Bet you it was all that bastard Santi’s fault’

Sighing, you finally look down at the photo in front of you. It was the 5 of you all lined up. You and Benny stand in the middle of the photo, clinging to each other. You were snuggled into his chest as he gazes down at you in awe. You swallow sharply and tear your eyes over to Will who is off to Benny’s left and appears to be crying? (I was just so happy someone took the little shit off my hands) Obviously Will stood in as Benny’s best man, that was a given. On the far end of the photo on your side stood Santi who looked dishevelled and pissed off. Was that blood on his shirt? Between him and you stood Frankie who (unusual for him) was sporting a Cheshire grin. Confused, you looked up at the two men in front of you and suddenly noticed real life Santi had a black eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

The two men glanced at each other in embarrassment before Santi quietly admitted that he and Frankie had got into a fist fight over who was going to be your right hand man. Will snorts into his hand in the corner.

'God give me strength not to kill these stupid bastards’  Sighing and rubbing your temples you shot them a glare which has the 3 men across from you cowering in their seats.

“So at no point did any of you guys think to put a stop to this madness?” You growl.

“Is the idea of being married to me really the worst thing in the world?” You hear Benny asks quietly, still not looking at you.

The boys have the good grace to look a little ashamed before Santi decides to pipe up and make his defence.

“Well how could we? Benny spent the best part of the night proclaiming his undying love you. Fuck he even serenaded you at the Karaoke bar.” There is a loud thud and Santi’s face  twists into a grimace. Apparently someone had kicked him under the table.

“Yeah right as if Benny would ever say anything like that! He hates my fucking guts. Right Benny?” You scoff and nudge him with your elbow. An uncomfortable silence washes over the table and Benny refuses to look at you. It’s good old Will who breaks the silence, abruptly standing up.

“Why don’t we go sort out the bill yeah?” looking to his brothers.

Santi squawks in outrage and throws up his hands “But it was just getting to the good part!!!” Will grabs him by the collar of his shirt and drags him out of the booth, muttering furiously into his ear before marching him off to god knows where. Frankie reaches over and gently squeezes your hand before sliding out and giving Benny a pat on the shoulder on the way by.

“Good luck hermano” he calls over his shoulder. You wait for a beat before turning to Benny gearing yourself up for a fight.

“Are you fucking serious right now. Or is this all an elaborate game that you and the boys have cooked up Huh?” you hiss.

“You really think I’m that cruel?” he fires back.

“I don’t know! Ever since I met you, you’ve made my life a living hell Benny! So why wouldn’t this not be the next step in the ’ terrorise Tink’ grande scheme?” The remark clearly hits him hard as he whirls round to finally face you.

“You really have no clue do you.”

“What the hell are you talking about Miller?”

Benny scoffs bitterly and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t hate you Tink! I never have. I’m so far gone on you that Will threatens daily to kill me if I don’t shut up about you. Ask him or any of the guys for that matter”. There’s a look of pleading on his face as though begging you to believe what he is saying that leaves you completely floored. Without waiting for a response he barrels on, the dam broken, clearly needing to get everything off his chest at last.

“Do you realise how intimidating it is to talk to you?. You’re amazing and so fucking beautiful Tink that I feel like I can’t breathe every time i look at you. You are hella smart and watching you work on the job blows my mind every time. And that mouth you have on you, no one else ever calls me out on my shit like you. I know I have a sense of humour that people don’t always get. I know I can be a complete asshole and I don’t really have much going in my favour but  I’m not a bad man Tink I swear. I’ve been sweet on you since the day I met you. For some reason though you just seemed to dislike me from the start so it was easier to play up on being an asshole. It hurt less that way.” He trails off.

What. The. Fuck.

You stare at him. Dumbfounded. You’d been wrong the whole time?

“I remember most of last night Tink. We had been drinking and betting at one of the craps tables. You were on a winning streak and kept saying if you rolled a hard 8 you would do this and that. You were having the time of your life Tink. I’ve never seen you look so free. So Happy. Any time you’re around me, you’re always so closed off. And it kills me. But you were looking at me different last night. And i was so caught up in the game I bet if you rolled a hard 8 one more time that we should get married. And you took me up on that offer. I’ve never felt so fucking happy in my life. I know it was a stupid idea and that we were drunk, but you finally chose me and if anything happened to me after that I could die a happy man.”

He gently brings both his hands up to cup your face and leans in close, not enough for your lips to touch but close enough for him to whisper to you.

“I know this whole Vegas thing has been crazy and I’m not asking you to stay married to me. That would be unreasonable. All I’m asking is that you choose me again. That you give me a chance to show you how much I care about you. Please”

You stare into his eyes for a second, looking for a hint of deception. Finding none, you make your decision. You close the gap between you and feel Benny sigh in relief into the kiss.

I  guess there’s a fine line between love and hate.

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Maybe or maybe not a Naruto/Charsuke hook up mini drabble?🤷‍♀️😅Just thinking how that wouldve happened, i cant stop thinking ab it since then

I finally had time to write it! Tbh i couldn’t stop thinking about it either heh. As for mini drabble, it ended up over 2,000 words 😂 Hopefully you like it 🙏

Rated: M (no full smut, but also they’re kinda in a public place...)

It’s not precisely written to fit in with tswm canon, but it probably works if you squint a little. Set somewhere between Menma breaking up with Charasuke and Naruto and Sasuke getting together. I didn’t have a lot of notes on what i’d planned in that original outline, but enough to figure it was probably supposed to be angsty. So, it’s probably more sad than sexy 😅

                                                          -------

He’s not sure if he should be surprised or not, finding Naruto sitting at the edge of the small dock by the lake. It’s his thinking spot, and he’d come here to curse Menma’s name. Finding his copy wasn’t precisely in his plans.

Sasuke is nowhere to be seen. He hesitantly joins him, pausing behind his shoulder to stare out over the water. He can’t see much with evening fast approaching, no moonlight brightening things, the light from nearby buildings too faint to help. There’s a faint breeze, barely disturbing the surface. Naruto’s got his arms wrapped around his knees, folded against his chest. He looks morose, sort of, not really acknowledging his presence.

“I’m not your Sasuke,” Charasuke greets him with, just in case.

“Obviously,” Naruto mutters, though he doesn’t explain why it’s obvious, considering he hasn’t once looked back at him.

“This is my spot.”

“You can survive without it for a bit longer.”

Heaving a sigh, Charasuke sits down beside him. The water is too cold to dip his feet in, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

“I heard your conversation earlier,” he says, rather than disagree that he really shouldn’t have to give up his spot to Naruto of all people. “Guess you’re not actually together, huh?”

“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Naruto hunches his shoulders even more, tucking his chin into his chest. “At least we didn’t break up.”

It stings, more than it should. A vindictive part of him is pleased to find out that Naruto and Sasuke aren’t the happy couple he assumed, but Naruto looks as awful as he feels, and it drains any urge to snap back out of him.

“Sucks to be us,” he sighs instead, picking at a loose thread on his pants. “I bet he’ll come around, though. You two seem really close.”

Naruto snorts, a self-deprecating sound. Something even sadder, if that’s even possible, passes over his face.

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t ended up here,” he mumbles.

“What, it’s our fault you’re now gay and pining?”

Eyes narrowing, Naruto says nothing.

“I don’t think travelling through dimensions turns you gay all of a sudden.”

“I’m not gay.”

Charasuke gives him a deadpan stare. Oh sure you’re not.

“Gay enough to have feelings for him.”

A groan escapes Naruto’s throat, and he lies back to stare up at the darkened sky, running his fingers through his hair viciously. Charasuke turns to look down at him, palm flat against the rough wooden planks separating them from the water below.

“How do you even know that?” Naruto finally asks, exasperated.

“It’s obvious.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

There’s a few moments of silence, and then Charasuke huffs, lying down as well. Despite how exposed this spot it, there’s something so calming about the quiet. Few people pass by the road behind them, and the sunsets are sometimes spectacular enough that he forgets to breathe.

At the moment, breathing is all he can do.

“I wish I hadn’t realized,” Naruto breaks the silence with. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this.”

“Well, I’m not going to judge you.”

Naruto tilts his head, looking at him. He searches his face, as if Charasuke has ever had the answer to anything.

“At least Menma liked you back.”

“At least Sasuke still cares about you.”

They glare at each other, because any other look would have been too soft, too understanding. He’s so similar to Menma, like this. It would be easy to reach out, to roll over on top of him, to pretend for a moment in the dark.

What is there to stop him, really?

“Do you want to forget?” he asks, pushing up on an elbow. “You pretend I’m Sasuke, and I pretend you’re Menma.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Naruto says, rolling his eyes. There’s something not quite so dismissive in his eyes, though. “You’re nothing like Sasuke.”

“I’m close enough,” he argues, shuffling closer. “I bet I’m better at this, anyway.”

Frowning, Naruto doesn’t move, even when he pushes up to hover above him.

“Better at what?”

He smiles, just this side of devious. Naruto may not be Menma, but he’s got his own appeal. Charasuke won’t feel bad for being attracted to him, not if Menma is so hell-bent on getting rid of him.

“Kissing, for example.”

Naruto blushes bright red, unexpectedly. He quickly turns his head away, crossing his arms.

“Aww, you’re so easy to tease. Is this the first time a guy has offered to kiss you?”

“Shut up and die,” Naruto hisses, still stubbornly turned away from him. “As if I’d kiss you.”

He leans closer, lips brushing over his ear. Naruto shivers at the touch.

“I’m still Sasuke,” he breathes against his skin, lifting fingers to trace the line of his jaw. He’s wearing that ugly jumpsuit, neck mostly covered by the collar. “And I could make you feel so good, Naruto.”

He doesn’t entirely expect the way Naruto bites his lip against a moan, or the way he shifts awkwardly. He’d only meant to tease, really, but the thought of going through with his offer is tempting. He wouldn’t mind peeling the orange fabric off, slowly, licking and tasting the revealed skin.

“You’re a pervert,” Naruto accuses, but there’s no heat behind his words. “I’m not going to do anything with you!”

Unable to help a small grin, Charasuke bites gently at Naruto’s earlobe, hand sneaking underneath the hem of his sweater. He splays his fingers over Naruto’s stomach, feeling his warmth, the shortness of his breaths.

“Well, I’m sure you could easily throw me off if you wanted to,” he says, kissing the spot underneath his ear before leaning back up to meet his eyes. “Or, you could try out all those things you’d like to do to him, and no one will ever know.”

Ah, there it is. Conflict. A rush of something runs through his body – anticipation, maybe? He’s got no particular feelings for Naruto, aside from how unfair it is that he’s so hopelessly devoted to his own Sasuke that something breaks inside him to see it.

“I won’t tell,” he continues, leaning down, mouths just barely touching. Naruto’s eyes are wide, his body tense. Charasuke slides a leg over his hips, caging him in. “I wouldn’t want you to tell anyone, either.”

Naruto swallows. Charasuke feels it underneath his hand, caressing the sensitive skin on his throat. There’s a mess of emotion playing over Naruto’s face, lips parted to breathe heavily.

“I think you want me.”

Naruto doesn’t deny it.

“Well?”

Slowly, Naruto reaches up, fingers combing through his hair. He touches his face, hesitantly. His cheekbones, his nose, traces the shape of his eyebrows. Like he can hardly believe he’s allowed.

“Sometimes, you look so much like him,” he says, voice thick with unnamed emotion. “When you’re just looking at me, like this.

“It bothers you.”

It’s not a question.

“Yeah.” Naruto pauses, wetting his lips. “You both always say what you think, but the things you think about are so different…”

He smiles, a quick quirk of lips. He doubts Sasuke has ever been plagued with self-doubt and heedless anxiety. Or, more importantly, ever considered seducing his ex-boyfriend’s alternate dimension copy just to try and cope with reality.

“Care to guess what I’m thinking right now?”

His smile widens as Naruto huffs, cheeks still red. Before he can think better of it, he dips his head down, pressing a quick kiss to Naruto’s lips. There’s a sharp intake of breath, but Naruto doesn’t move, hand suspended mid-air.

“Again?” he asks, only half-mocking. It’s directed more at himself, anyway. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you like.”

Naruto makes a noise, something small and desperate. His hands grab for him, twisting in his hair and pulling him down, Charasuke easily following. He lets his weight drop onto Naruto, forearms holding him up enough to angle his mouth over Naruto’s.

They meet in a rush of exhilaration, mouths colliding with too much force. It’s easier to kiss him than he’d thought. It’s familiar and strange at the same time; the taste is the same, the shape, the sounds he makes. But there’s a strange feeling to it that makes all the difference in the world.

They kiss hungrily, sloppily, with no finesse or care for technique. It’s not about enjoying things – it’s about forgetting, about pretending.

It’s about something they might never have.

And he wants, that’s the problem. He’s got Naruto underneath him, his body just the same as he rolls his hips down, his moans at the friction identical. His eyes, too expressive. Charasuke closes his, keeps them shut as he kisses Naruto’s jaw and throat, tugging impatiently at the zipper on his jacket. He needs more, but knows it won’t be enough.

Naruto’s hands drag up and down his back, pushes underneath his shirt. There are goosebumps all over his arms, maybe from the cold, maybe from pleasure. His hands are so warm, but they hesitate. They don’t know his body.

“Come on,” he mutters, to himself or Naruto, he’s not sure. “Just– come on.”

Finally, Naruto lets his legs spread wider, wraps his arms around him until they’re pressed together too tight. It’s better like this, breathless with pleasure, giving up on the zipper halfway down and instead cupping Naruto’s cheeks too kiss him deeper. His thumbs dig into his cheekbones, holding him in place. It works on Menma, and it works on Naruto, too. He squirms and bucks his hips, letting Charasuke suck on his tongue until he’s satisfied. They’re probably too loud, out here in the open, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Naruto gasps for air when he releases him for a moment, groaning as Charasuke bites at his lower lip. He dares take a look at him, face flushed, eyebrows knitted together as if afraid to let go. He’s much more pliant than Menma, scrunching up Charasuke’s shirt as he clutches at his back and waits.

“You like it,” he says, voice low and rough with pleasure. “Tell me you like it.”

He shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. Naruto’s eyes flutter open, colored dark in the lack of daylight. He draws in a shaky breath, licking his already wet lips.

“No,” he says.

It’s more of a challenge than denial, and a heady rush of arousal courses through Charasuke’s body. He grins, slowly, watching Naruto torn between being uncomfortable with the unfamiliar sight and turned on at what the smile implies.

He pushes back, sliding down Naruto’s body until he’s level with his crotch. There’s an incredulous look on Naruto’s face, his nerves showing in the way his eyes flicker between Charasuke’s mouth and the obvious bulge in his pants as he props himself up on his elbows.

“I-“ he starts, then clamps his mouth shut.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Charasuke asks him, raising an eyebrow.

He’s probably not doing a good job of acting like Sasuke, but Naruto still shivers.

“Yes,” he whispers, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, choking down a moan as Charasuke all but rips his pants open.

It shouldn’t be strange but it is, that their dicks look the same. And isn’t it sad, that he knows exactly what Menma’s dick looks like? He chases the thought out of his head. Instead he licks a stripe up the length of it, holding back a snort as Naruto’s hips twitch in surprise.

“Relax,” he murmurs, and then wastes no time as he wraps his fingers gently around it and swallows it in one go.

“Fuck!” Naruto whisper-yells, gripping at Charasuke’s hair as he hollows his cheeks and suck.

Flattering, but he winces as the grip tightens. Easing back up, he levels Naruto with a glare, pointedly taking hold of his wrist and tugging at it until his fingers relax around his hair. Naruto is hardly apologetic, too busy breathing with his mouth open, back arching as Charasuke swirls his tongue around the head of his cock. It’s exhilarating how responsive he is, as if he’s never been touched like this. Maybe he hasn’t.

It doesn’t take long at all. He barely has time to get into the rhythm of it, bobbing his head up and down, one hand stroking Naruto’s hipbone, the other teasing the exposed skin around the base of his cock and softly massaging his balls. He knows precisely what Menma likes, and Naruto is no different in that aspect it seems. There’s a harsh tug at his hair and a broken version of his name, and then Naruto spills into his mouth, legs trembling as he finishes.

He avoids looking at him, sitting up and wiping at his mouth. Instead he looks out over the water again, ignoring the throbbing of his own dick, hard and straining against his pants. It would have been nicer if the sky was open, with stars winking comfortingly at them.

Naruto puts his clothes back in order, fumbling and cursing under his breath. He doesn’t offer to return the favor.

It’s probably for the better.

[clumsyclifford]

is this a prompt? does he know by 1d... has a lashton vibe

not REALLY related because i made this fic a non-sketchy version of does he know but when i started writing this fic i went to look up the lyrics to does he know on genius and i CANT STOP LAUGHING AT THE SONG BIO ALFKGJFDKGMKZCJB

ANYWAY MOVING ON LETS GET TO THE FIC LAKFJGJKFDMG

-

Ashton likes to think he’s largely unflappable, but holy shit this guy is hot.

Usually Ashton doesn’t notice, but he’d happened to skim his eyes over the front door just as the most attractive person Ashton has objectively ever seen pushes through it, arm slung very unfortunately over some other bloke’s shoulders. Ashton can’t tear his eyes away. There’s a messy flop of golden curls on the guy’s head and he’s got these broad shoulders and legs that just go on forever, and Ashton can’t breathe, honestly, he can’t.

“Oh, holy fuck,” Calum murmurs. Ashton starts; he’d forgotten about Calum for a moment. “Did you see that guy who just came in?”

“The blond? Yeah, holy fuck.”

“No, not him,” Calum says dismissively. “I mean — he’s fine, but I meant the other one. The friend. Bright red hair.” 

They’re both still watching as the pair make their way into the crowd of people at the party, both waving at folks left and right like they frequent this place.

“Huh,” Ashton says, staring after the blond. “Uh, I guess? Not really my type, but, um, go for it?”

“I don’t think I can go for it,” Calum says dryly, as the redhead smacks a sloppy kiss to the blond’s cheek and then disappears among the people. 

Ashton sighs loudly. “Fucking hell. All the good ones.”

“I’ll fucking drink to that,” Calum says, and indeed does drink to that. In fact, he finishes his drink to that, and then says, “Okay, I’m gonna go get more alcohol and pretend I’m not thinking about that red-haired guy,” and vanishes before Ashton can ask Calum to grab him another drink too.

Ashton leans against the wall, letting the energy of the party wash over him, all the terrible music and loud chatter and bad dancing. Not to mention the lingering scent of weed. 

Caught up and eyes unfocused, he doesn’t really notice the hot blond guy turn until they’ve locked gazes. Ashton’s eyes widen and he quickly looks elsewhere, but when he sneaks a look back, the blond guy is ducking his head. His cheeks are flushed, and unless he’s managed to get wasted in the time since he’d come into the party, he’s blushing.

Well. Fuck. That’s no good.

And then the blond guy starts picking his way over towards Ashton.

Fuck.

There’s no way to escape this without being rude. Ashton could act disinterested, maybe, but honestly he’s not sure he’s that good of an actor. Closer up, Ashton can see the piercing blue of hot blond guy’s eyes and — his cheeks are shimmering, and so are his eyes. He’s wearing makeup. Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay. Fuck.

“Hi,” says hot blond guy, with a broad grin. “Any particular reason you were staring at me?”

“I wasn’t,” Ashton blurts out. “I didn’t say I minded,” hot blond guy says, smirking. “I’m Luke.”

Ashton grasps for something to say, and then realizes the polite thing would be to introduce himself. “Ashton.”

“Ashton,” Luke says appreciatively, and Ashton wants him to repeat just that forever, just say Ashton’s name until he’s forgotten how to say anything else. It sounds like a song when it rolls off Luke’s tongue. “Nice to meet you, Ashton.”

“You too,” Ashton says. His mouth feels dry. How do you hold a conversation? What’s an appropriate thing to ask? Hey, could you maybe go spend time in a room where I can’t see you? I think you’re really hot but I don’t want to piss off your boyfriend because he looks metal as fuck.

“What are you studying?” Luke asks.

Studying. Studying? Because college, Ashton’s brain helpfully supplies. “Oh,” he says. “Uh, philosophy.”

“Fuck,” Luke says, eyebrows raised. “That’s a major for sure.”

“I like it.”

“You’d have to, to major in it,” Luke says. “‘S just inane chatter to me, but to each their own, I guess.”

“It’s not —” Ashton bites down on his incensed comment in defense of philosophy, because Luke looks like he’s joking. “Uh, what about you?”

“Maths,” Luke says. “Something logical, that has concrete answers.”

“God, but at what cost?”

Luke laughs. It fills the room. “You’re not one to judge my major, Mr. Socrates.”

“That’s Your Majesty Socrates to you.”

Luke bows exaggeratedly. “Sorry, of course, Your Majesty Socrates.” Heat pools in Ashton’s stomach. 

This is bad. This is really, really not good, because any minute now, Ashton’s going to say something terrible like will you come back to my room with me? or does your boyfriend know you’re talking to me? or something like that, and everything will be in shambles. Ashton should cut this off right now. 

“Do you want a drink?” is what he says instead, like a fucking moron.

Luke smiles lightly. “Tempted to take you up on that,” he says, “but no, Michael’s getting me one.” He glances over his shoulder. “Or at least he should be.”

“Michael?” 

“Hey!” As if summoned, the red-haired guy from before materializes, throwing his arm over Luke’s shoulder and handing him a red solo cup. “Drink up, young padawan.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Luke says, with so much fondness that Ashton feels violently like he’s witnessing a private moment. To Ashton, Luke gestures to the guy who presumably is Michael and says, “Michael.”

“Michael! That’s me,” Michael announces loudly, grinning. “Who’s this?”

“Ashton,” Luke says before Ashton can answer. “He’s a philosophy major.”

“Holy shit, man,” Michael says, with a look of pure disgust. “How.”

“That’s what I wondered.”

“I like it,” Ashton says again, wondering if he’s really going to have to defend philosophy as an area of study tonight, at this party he’s increasingly thinking he shouldn’t have come to. “Anyway, Luke’s a maths major, so I don’t really think I deserve to be judged.”

“Please, I know that,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “Luke’s the absolute worst. You know he got a tattoo of the quadratic formula without telling anyone? Not even because of any fucking sentiment. He just likes the quadratic formula.”

“I like to sing the song!” Luke protests weakly, while Ashton snorts a laugh. Before he can ask — or refrain from asking — to see it, Michael is pulling at the collar of Luke’s shirt until it dips enough for Ashton to glimpse what is most decidedly the quadratic formula in black ink. Ashton’s breath catches in his throat.

“And he has the nerve to call me a nerd,” Michael grumbles, releasing Luke’s collar but resting his hand instead on Luke’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like you guys know each other really well,” Ashton says, hating himself.

Luke nods. “Unfortunately.”

Michael elbows Luke. “Hey, fuck you. You love that I know everything about you. That’s what makes us so good.”

“I love that you blast Stacy’s Mom to wake me up every morning because I had one two-week obsession with it freshman year?” Luke says, dry.

“Yes you do,” Michael says, smirking. “I hear you singing it under your breath when you think I have headphones in. Don’t think I don’t know.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Luke says threateningly, and Michael giggles.

Ashton wonders if there’s a sly way to flee this situation.

“Hey!” Oh, thank fucking God. Calum. Ashton turns, relieved, but Calum’s not looking at him; he’s looking at Michael, and looking affronted. “What happened to back in a sec?”

“Oh, fuck, sorry,” Michael says. “Had to get Luke his drink and then I got caught up.”

“Wait,” Ashton says, looking between Calum and Michael. “Cal?”

Calum looks at Ashton and then sees Luke, and his mouth curves into a big smile. He approaches Ashton and whispers in his ear, “They’re not boyfriends! Shoot your shot!”

“What do you mean they’re not boyfriends,” Ashton whispers through gritted teeth.

“Exactly that,” Calum whispers back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go seduce the hell out of Michael, although I will give you the room if you work it out with Luke.” Calum kisses his cheek and then whirls away, and Michael gives a little wave as they head deeper into the party.

Ashton turns to Luke, though he’s not sure what he’ll say, but Luke is just watching Calum. “Your boyfriend?” Luke asks, a steely edge to his voice.

“No!” Ashton almost shouts. Luke looks surprised. “No, holy fuck, Calum? Just my roommate. And, like, best friend, but — God, no.”

“Oh,” Luke says, and smiles. “Good.”

“And Michael’s not your boyfriend?” Ashton says carefully. Luke makes a face like he’s just swallowed something very sour.

“I’d rather kiss a monkey than Michael,” he says flatly. “I mean, I love him, but no way.”

“Huh,” Ashton says, and watches as Luke takes a long drink from his cup, Adam’s apple bobbing. He traces the column of Luke’s throat with his gaze and then keeps going, giving Luke a full once-over. When he looks back up, Luke is watching him.

“So there was a reason you were staring,” Luke says lightly. His eyes give him away, though, intense and fiery, like a challenge he’s waiting to issue.

Ashton swallows. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, come on,” Luke says, edging closer with a smirk curling the corners of his mouth. Ashton watches him swipe his tongue over his lips and wonders if it’s possible to suffer a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-one. “Game’s up, Ashton. Cards on the table.”

“I don’t play poker.”

“There are better ways to reject someone’s advances,” Luke says calmly.

Ashton wonders why he’s the world’s biggest dumbass. “I’m not rejecting your advances.”

“Good,” Luke says, so close now that Ashton can feel his breath, can practically taste the awful beer in Luke’s cup. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” Ashton breathes, and Luke grins, absolutely filthy and gorgeous.

“Lead the way.”

[javierpenaspinkshirt]

Lawful Good

Chapter two

Warnings: nothing explicit, slow burn, little bit of angst, age gap(?), really bad formating (sorry I'm on mobile). The odd swear word and more adult(?) themes beginning.

Words: 2.6K

A/N: thanks for the kind words and messsages after chapter one! I’m afraid this fic is gonna be a slow burner but we’re heading in the right direction in this chapter! Really sorry about the shite formatting, but that’s mobile for you! Enjoy 🖤

Previous chapters: Chapter one

*

Chapter two

There were a million words you could use to describe Javi… but domestic wasn’t one of them. He’d slipped into your apartment behind you just a few moments ago, a little closer to you than he would have been had someone else been with you. And now he was standing in your kitchen looking bewildered at the gadgets and cookery items that covered your kitchen surfaces.

‘What the hell is this’? Javi smirked pointing at one.

‘It’s a spiraliser… for when vegetables need to be… well spiralised…’ you actually had no idea why you had that but it had been an impulse purchase you defended fiercely against all who took the piss.

Javi cocked his eyebrow and smirked.

‘So you and Steve really spend evenings here spirlalising vegetables and gossiping?’

'Yes, and I’ll have you know, he’s a great spiraliser’

Javier chuckled and you noticed some genuine amusement in his face. He was a difficult man to read. You figured that was deliberate, or at least a subconscious choice due to the nature of his work. Hiding his emotions was a safety mechanism that more than likely kept him alive. The number of times he must have been shot at, the close calls, the near misses, they would be enough to make a civi like you want to retire on the spot. But not him. He’d found a way to cope and the side effect of this was appearing closed off and reclusive. But occasionally he’d let his guard down. And in this moment he had done just that – standing in your kitchen, hands on his waste, laughing at the idea of his partner trying to work out how to make courgette ribbons.

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him, and you smiled.

He caught your gaze and his laugh trailed off and he cleared his throat.

You snapped out of it, realising you had been all but swooning like some Victorian maiden. Vaguely horrified at yourself you clapped your hands gently and asked ‘so, what would you like for dinner?’ tailed by a slightly awkward laugh.

He raised his eyebrow again ‘how about we just order in?’

You did just that. There was a pizza place down the street you (and probably all the DEA agents living in the building) knew well that claimed to make an “All American Pizza”, that in reality was a cheese pizza with a mystery meat topping that claiming to be pepperoni. If you didn’t think too hard about what was actually on it, it was delicious.

It arrived and you both sat on your couch, not bothering with plates to save washing up, just grabbing slices from the box, conversation free flowing. You laughed about the time you’d dropped coffee all down yourself one Monday morning and sulked the whole day, and the time he had an informant turn up at the office to return his signature sunglasses that he had left in her apartment after spending the night to “question her”.

‘I take my work very seriously’ he insisted through laughter ‘I get results don’t I?’

You cackled, a proper belly laugh, pizza slice half eaten in your hand and tears forming in your eyes ‘you do, but she exposed your modus operandi to the whole office’ you wiped a tear that was threatening to roll down your cheek and take your mascara with it, ‘she exposed you after you exposed her!’ you gave him a look and erupted in to laughter again.

The grin stayed plastered across his face but he wasn’t laughing at your poor jokes, he was watching you as you sat next to him, half eaten pizza slice in your hand and tears in your eyes, completely uninhibited and cackling like a witch. He’d always appreciated your openness. You were his opposite in so many ways. You were younger and more optimistic in your outlook. He didn’t particularly know your personal circumstances but he knew you’d come to this country alone as a teenager to study and that you’d accidentally wound up at the DEA. He knew you were good at your job and he appreciated every sticky situation you’d gotten him and Steve out of. And he also noticed that though you and Steve were very close, you didn’t look at Steve the way you looked at him. What he didn’t know, however, was whether you knew you were looking at him that way or whether your beautiful, dark eyes were betraying you.

Javier was no stranger to the female gaze. It would be a very rare evening that he didn’t catch some woman in a bar giving him the eye. Even at his most dishevelled after a long shift or a raid gone bad he still attracted them. He was like a magnet and they were the scrap metal that permanently orbited him. He didn’t mind, he liked the attention but only on his own terms. It was easy for him to separate lust and genuine feeling, that was partly due to his job. You had to be able to separate your feelings from the job at hand. Hell! He would often have days where he retuned home to his quiet apartment having shot several people and been shot at himself. If he couldn’t separate his personal emotions with his actions then he’d have gone over the edge years ago. So he translated this skill into his personal life too.

Sex and love were not often things that went together for him. But occasionally he’d let his guard slip and he’d let someone in. He did that once a long time ago, but that had ended terribly. His fault, he’d been the one to run. Some how she’d had the courage to forgive him and that helped, but he still felt the occasional twinge of guilt. Since her, there had been a few women he’d genuinely connected with. Often they were prostitutes, but that didn’t make them any lesser than him. It always began the same, them offering information in exchange for visas. Sometime he could help, sometimes he couldn’t, and sometimes he’d let them into his life a bit. But it never lasted. He’d scold himself for thinking he was capable of sustaining anything greater than a sexual relationship.

He reminded himself of that while he looked at you. He’d thought about you in that way, who wouldn’t? You were smart, funny, kind, beautiful, and seemingly fearless. Who comes to a city like this with purely good intentions? And who maintains that integrity despite the ugliness of the job? You impressed him no end. Your mind was a thing of wonder to him. How could you think so thoroughly so quickly? You always had the answer. You took the scathing remarks about your age and the sexist comments and ripped them apart with your brilliance. You proved instantly that you deserved your desk in that office. He was in quiet awe of you. But that was as far as he dared take it. His mind would wonder sometimes but he was good at dragging it back. He knew you would never risk your career for him and he was selfish for even considering it a possibility.

But here he was, sat on your couch with you, eating and laughing like you’d been friends your whole lives. If this was as far as your relationship could go then so be it. This was unchartered territory for him anyway. He had a pal relationship with Steve, they’d go out and drink together, grab some food and talk quite often, but he was the only one Javi had that kind of relationship with. He’d chat to his various conquests of a night but they were only there for his help, they weren’t really interested in him. But you? You came across so genuine, like you really did care about him and it sent a small shiver up his spine.

‘Thanks for tonight, Javi’ you smiled ‘This has been the best Monday night I’ve had in ages’.

‘Yeah well now I see how you and Steve spend your evenings maybe I’ll join you occasionally?’ He seemed almost tentative in his question.

‘Of course!’ You blurted ‘the more the merrier! Plus it’ll be nice not to be the only third wheel in Steve and Connie’s marriage’ you chuckled.

He left your apartment not long after that. It was late and you both had to be awake and alert for your drive to work tomorrow. You’d hugged him as he opened the door to leave. It lasted just that half a second too long and you found yourself relishing the feel of his hands against your back. Dangerous territory. But you’d smiled sweetly at him as the embrace ended and you said your good byes.

*

The rest of the week progressed pretty much as every week did, just without Steve. Javi was in and out of the office, out on raids, off meeting informants, in writing reports, off meeting the ambassador. You were in mostly, at your desk figuring our loopholes to get agents out of trouble with the local authority or trying to bribe your way out of sticky situations slyly.

Thursday afternoon rolled around and you found yourself turning your desk upside down and inside out. Gently huffing and getting frustrated at having lost the one thing you needed right now. You looked up to notice Javi coming back from the ambassador’s office. He was in a suit and he looked good. He had his top button undone and his tie loosened in classic Javi fashion. His little way of sticking it to the man. Respectful enough to wear a suit, but renegade enough to wear it in his own fashion.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ He sat at his desk and unbuttoned his suit jacket. The site of you on your knees searching through your desk drawers making him a little uneasy.

‘I’ve lost a book I need, I swear I had it here but I cant find it anywhere. You haven’t borrowed anything have you?’ You looked up at him, hair a mess from your frantic searching and your heels kicked off in exasperation.

He swallowed at the site of you but kept his cool, ‘I can promise you that the last thing I am going to borrow from your desk is a hefty law book’

You smiled back at him ‘fair point’ you pulled yourself to your feet and slumped back down on your desk chair. ‘Fuck, I need that book. I don’t know what I could have done with it’ you put your head in your hands.

‘Well if it’s a law book then I’m sure there’s a copy in the archives here? They have a law library in the storage archives down the hall’ he responded, sensing the genuine worry in your body.

You shot up in your chair ‘do they?’ Hope returning to your face ‘where?’

He stood up and shrugged off his suit jacket, his shirt was a little damp from the heat and it clung to his torso ever so slightly. You pulled your eyes back to his but he’d caught you looking. He shuffled slightly, had you made him uncomfortable?

‘Come on’ he said, walking towards you ‘I’ll show you the archives’

You smiled gratefully and leapt up to follow him. You had forgone your heels and caught up to him bare foot, a whole lot more comfortable. He noticed and smiled at you, ‘fuck dress codes, ey?’.

You grinned back.

You followed him through winding corridors and down a stairwell towards where they kept some of the evidence from raids and attacks on sicario strong holds. A little further down a dimly lit corridor and he stopped to open a door for you.

‘Here you go, the library’ he held the door open for you and you squeezed passed him. 'Library' was a generous term. It was a small cramped room with a few rows of shelves stacked with books. Some were older than your abuela and about as dusty the streets of the city.

‘Okay, help me look!’ You gave him the title and you set about searching.

He obliged and shut the door behind him, scanning through the books with you. Some of the shelves were too high for you to reach so he stretched up to grab at the abandoned collections on the top shelves. As he stretched his shirt untucked and revealed flashes of skin. Why on earth were you swooning over a strip of belly skin? What was with you? Was it the stifling heat of the windowless room? Was it the Adrenalin of hunting out this bloody book?

Javi set down a box of books on the floor and turned to face you.

‘Not in there’ he frowned.

He was standing just a little too close to you again, like when he had followed you into your apartment on Monday. He was so much taller than you without your heels on, and in the dim light of the small room the shadows angled his face beautifully.

Suddenly he reached out, as if he were going to brush a wayward strand of hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. You lurched forward and kissed him. You lips connecting to his, warm and slightly salty from the sweat of the heavy lifting. As quickly as you leant forward you pulled away, realising what you had just done. What the fuck had you just done?!

He stood dead still, almost unblinking. His hand was still out stretched right near your face. You stared at him, panic filling your entire body. You went cold, felt sick, what had you done that for?!

Finally he moved, reaching further behind you to the shelf you were leaning against. He pulled a book from the shelf and showed it to you. It was your missing title.

Oh god. Oh Christ. Oh no! He’d been reaching for the book, not for you at all! Dread pooled in your tummy. You had completely and utterly misread that situation. You cursed yourself, every stupid word you could think of running through your mind, all the while staring at him like a rabbit in the head lights. He was still so close to you.

He reached behind him and put the found book down on the box he had retrieved from the top shelf for you. He turned back to face you, putting his hand up again but this time brushing it against your cheek. And then again, the welcome softness of his lips on yours, the taste of salt and the rush of blood to all the wrong places. He kissed you gently, testing the waters. You leant into him, his reciprocation as much a surprise to you as it was to him. His tongue parted your lips and your hands ran up his back, clinging to his shirt. His hands cupped your face, holding you firm as his body pressed yours against the book shelf behind you.

His hands moved to your waist, his finger tips sinking into your soft skin beneath your thin blouse.

He pressed against you, pulling away from the kiss for breath. You panted heavily, the air suddenly feeling a whole lot hotter. His forehead pressed against yours, you would have been happy to stay in that moment forever. That way neither of you would have to face the consequences of your recklessness.

Chapter three

Tag list: @ah-callie

[ryujin-zanba]

Breathless

anything for you beyoncé 😩❤️

Sometimes you wonder if Julian’s plan to reach the Hanged Man’s realm had ulterior motives~

Rating: Explicit Words: 1,300 Tags: Smut, Fluff, Aftercare, Teasing, Flirting, Crying, Choking, Asphyxiation Kink, Praise Kink, Submissive Julian Pairings: Reader x Julian

“Show me where it feels good, baby,” you purr, running your hands up and down Julian’s chest as your nails drag against the skin.

 He responds with a wilting sound, his lips trembling with need as he guides your hands up to his neck.

 “Here~” he lilts, “I need you here, my darling~”

 “I had a feeling,” you smirk, not the least bit surprised that Julian’s weaknesses all seem to end up in this spot.

 His Adam’s apple sinks low in his throat and then bobs up again as you press down with your thumb for a moment or two before letting go.

 “Little bird,” you tut, “this desire to be hurt all the time… don’t you want something more gentle tonight?”

 Though his eyes remain closed, that dogged smile appears, revealing his horsey teeth and warning you that he’s about to say something wry.

 “Alright, alright,” you interrupt him before he can have the satisfaction. Whatever awful, embarrassing line he’s going to pull, you don’t want to hear it.

 All his smugness leaves him the minute your grip tightens around his neck; pressure closing in slowly but surely until the skin is bulging just a little bit between your fingers.

 You hold for a full fifteen seconds, not too tight and not for too long just yet. It’s still enough to have Julian panting softly though, his face a furious red and his eyes a little dewy.

 “T-too gentle,” he criticises, donning a smirk despite the state of him.

 “Too bad,” you say with a harmless sneer as you lean in to kiss him between the eyes. “You’ll get choked ‘til your heart’s content, just have some patience and behave yourself, slut.”

 There wasn’t an ounce of venom or derogation in your tone, but just that word alone has Julian’s cock straining against his undergarments, and you shaking your head at his predictability only has him getting more aroused.

 “Y-yes, my love,” he concedes meekly, “I’ll be a good boy.”

 “Yes, you will,” you purr, leaning down to nip his earlobe as you affix one of his long, stalk-like legs at your hip and grind up against him between his hairy thighs.

 Julian bites his lip to stifle a squeak and nods obediently; fully prepared to just hand himself over to you and let you do as you wish with him.

 You put both hands round his neck again then and close the pressure in a second time, no harder than before but for a little while longer, then again, this time for thirty seconds and with a grip tight enough to leave impressions on his skin that stay for at least ten.

 Julian is fully hard already; it never does take much with him, but his cock will be ignored until you see fit to relieve him.

 Your focus is solely on this right now, tormenting him with such a steady build up and making his impatience grow. That’s the aim of course, but actually Julian is so hungry for you to touch him in any way at all, that you could stop right now and he’d be satisfied just for that little bit of attention.

 “Alright, kitten,” you croon, content with that warm-up and gripping his neck this time like you mean to wring the life out of him.

 Julian’s eyes fill with tears and he squawks almost as piercingly as Malak, but his hands don’t even twitch toward your arms to pull them away.

 You let go after a count of twenty, but with the increased compression it feels a lot longer to Julian, and he’s gasping for breath during the minute’s reprieve you give him; precum staining the front of his underwear.

 “M-more… again,” he huffs, surrendering himself and throwing his arms out to grip the sheets in preparation.

 “Harder or longer?” you ask with a devilish smirk.

 Julian swallows thickly, the impressions sticking around for a good thirty seconds after their initial creation and the ache lingering just as long.

 “Harder,” Julian rasps, assuring that with a firm nod.

 You feel how he goes taut like a bowstring the instant your hands are on his skin now; afraid and anticipating and deliciously aroused, all at the same time.

 He grits his teeth and cants his head back a little in preparation, and a long, groaning sound escapes him as he breathes out through his nose the more your fingers enclose him and cut off his air.

 You can see him edging, and you can’t help it; the temptation is too great, and the satisfaction even greater when, for a split second you let go, see the betrayal on his face at having been denied the full pleasure, and then the shock when you return your grasp just as he attempts to take a breath, preventing him from having it.

 You know the minute he bucks like that he’s about to cum from it, so you keep on squeezing, maintaining the pressure as Julian fights for oxygen, and then he fights you; convulsing in your lap as his eyes roll up into his head and he makes a strangled, yearning sound before — just at the right moment — you release him completely… in more ways than one.

 Cum soaks into his underwear; hot and dark at the front of them, and Julian gasps dramatically, coming down panting and wheezing as his eyes roll forward but offer him no sight when they’re full to the brim with tears.

 “Good boy,” you hush, assuring him he’s not alone and that he’s safe to feel whatever he’s feeling after such an intense orgasm.

 He makes a helpless whimpering sound as he scrubs at his eyes with the back of his wrist and reaches out for you.

 “Good boy, I’m here,” you reassure him, “you’re alright.”

 You gather him into your lap fully then and cuddle him, rubbing his back to aid his breathing while you pull the blanket over and drape it around his shoulders.

 “You’re alright, sweetheart. You did really well,” you continue, kissing his shoulder affectionately as he sags against you, hiccupping.

 “S-sorry,” he sniffles, “I-I’m sorry, I’m not crying because I’m h-hurt.”

 He seems desperate to assure you of that, but you already know that’s not why he’s overwhelmed, and you gently stroke his hair as you tuck the comforter around him more securely and rock him a little.

 “I know, pumpkin. You were so good, you did really well for me, didn’t you?” you praise him in a gentle, loving voice that feels to Julian like being enveloped in warm, steamy water. “My good boy,” you hush, kissing away his tears after leaning back to regard him for a moment.

 Julian hiccups a laugh, smiling through the tears as he sinks into the safe, soothing space you’re creating for him.

 “Do you need anything, little love?” you ask once his crying has dwindled to soft little sniffles and he’s just resting his cheek on your shoulder as you hold him.

 Julian inevitably shakes his head; too insensible to ask for water when it means having to get out of your lap to receive it.

 You’re not insensible though, so you take initiative and gently lay him down, disentangling yourself from him and kissing his forehead.

 “I’ll be right back, little bird,” you smile, stroking his hair out of his face as you admire him for a moment before disappearing to fetch him a drink.

 You might not be able to convince Julian to take a gentle pounding or a night missing masochism, but you can sure as hell have it your way when it comes to aftercare, and to this, Julian wouldn’t protest in the slightest. It’s always worth it.

  In fact, the tenderness that comes after the torture may well be his favourite part…

if you enjoyed this consider buying me a kofi ♡

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

We Dont Talk Anymore (Yoongi x You) (ONESHOT)

A/N: this request has been sitting for a year (or more) in my inbox and im sorrryy. This is a short story and I feel like its not my best 😔 but I still hope you like it. Im sorry and Ill do better 💜

Oh, we don't talk anymore, like we used to do I just heard you found the one you've been looking You've been looking for I wish I would have known that wasn't me

Min Yoongi and Big Hit Producer, Zara announces that they are officially a couple!

Y/N scrunched up the glossy page of the tabloid and throw it in the nearest garbage bin, pulling her jacket tighter around her and keeps on walking. Maybe thats where she should be too, since thats how Yoongi treated her heart, like trash.

A year.

It has been a year since their heart wrenching break up and Yoongi has finally moved on. He is finally in a relationship with someone else. As he should be.

Maybe its a good thing. She was never a good match for Yoongi. Shes just a boring lawyer. What does she know about the entertaining world of the music industry right? All she do all day is fight in court and do the paperwork all night long. That producer girl will probably fits him better. Understand him better. They can talk music all day long, and write together all night long. The girl wont be mad at him for being busy all the time. Hell, they can spend time together while working. Y/N scoffs to herself.

She just wish.. she had known from the beginning that they were not suited for each other. Then she wouldnt have wasted her time to be in a relationship. To go on dates. To face his crazy fans. To balance work and spending time with Yoongi.

She wouldnt have wasted time, and her heart... to fall in love.

'Cause even after all this time I still wonder Why I can't move on Just the way you did so easily

A year.

And she still cant move on. How can she? She was never in love. Never felt it. Never wanted to. Never planned to. But Min Yoongi, with all his coldness he showed to the world, theres just warmth in him that melts her heart. That makes her so sure that love is real. She felt it with Yoongi. She felt it his smile, she felt it in his laughter, in his tears, in his frustration, she felt it in the way he covered her up in a blanket when she fell asleep while doing her case reports, she felt it in tbe small wave he gave her when he saw her in the crowd watching his performances. She felt it. And she knew its real.

Thats why she wonders. And keeps on wonder, how can he moved on so easily? And why cant she do the same.

Oh how she wish she can.

Don't wanna know What kind of dress you're wearing tonight If he's holding onto you so tight The way I did before

Breaking up with someone you love is painful enough. Its even worse when that someone moved on and you are told about every single detail of their love life. With every step she took, news about Yoongi and his new lover were whispered, talked about. Where they go to dates, what they do on dates, how romantic their kisses are.

If a heart can be thrown out, Y/N wants to take it out right now. She doesnt want to feel anymore. Yoongi was her world, the one she told everything to, the one she spend all her time with. The one love she overdosed on. The one that means everything to her.

What do you do when the one person you talk to is gone? What do you do when the one person you love stop loving you? Nothing. You moved on. And hope the pain passed. But it never will. Because afterall, nothing hurts more than a broken heart.

I just hope you're lying next to somebody Who knows how to love you like me There must be a good reason that you're gone

Yoongi walked down the street. The snow has been falling non stop today. It matches his cold cold heart and matches his cold cold feelings even more. He felt numb. Everything about him is numb. News broke today that hes dating their producer.

The truth is, he isnt.

He just hope Y/N saw the news. Hoped and prayed she saw it, and moved on. Yoongi swallowed a lump in his throat. Just the thought of Y/N with someone else... kills him, break him, but he have to do it.

Image of Y/N crying almost everyday, screaming almost everyday before their breakup haunts him. Thats not what he wanted for her. He wants to give her happiness, love, laughter. But hes not able to. He never have time for her, to talk to her, love her. And she deserve better.

He hope and he prayed. That with the sudden news, she will find someone new. She will finally open up her heart and let someone new in. And he hope and he prayed for that someone to love her as much as he does, because theres no other love in the world stronger than his love for her. And it will always be her. To Yoongi, it will always be her.

Every now and then I think you Might want me to come show up at your door But I'm just too afraid that I'll be wrong

He knows Y/N doesnt mean it. When she cries and say those awful words of separation, he knows she doesnt mean it. She wants him to stop her, to change, to love her better. But he cant. He cant love her better. He wants to, but he dont how. And thats why he lets her go.

Every single night while he rolls around in bed, his handphone screen is the only thing lighting the dark room, illuminating Y/N's picture in his phone that hes been staring at, he wonders. What if he just picks up his coat and knocks on her door? Will she open it? Will she welcome him with open arms? Smiling, crhing in happiness? Will they kiss and all be okay? Will they ever forget this terrible tragedy even happen? Will they start again and be happy like before?

Every single night he thinks about it. And every single night he almost did. Almost.

But he has a bigger fear. What if hes wrong. What if Y/N has moved on. What if Y/N has found someone who love her better.

They dont talk anymore. They didnt talked for the longest time. And maybe its better that way..

I overdosed Should've known your love was a game Now I can't get you out of my brain Oh, it's such a shame That we don't talk anymore,

Her mind has been wondering with thoughts about Yoongi, not really paying attention to where shes even going until she suddenly stopped in her tracks and looked up.

Standing in front of her, all bundled up in heavy coat and gloves, scarf around his neck, nose tinge pink, is the man that haunted her mind himself. Y/N breathes, her mouth whisper the only word she wanted to call out for so long.

"Yoongi,"

Yoongi stops in his tracks. Maybe he had successfully stopped himself from going to Y/N's door every single night, naybe he managed to talk himself out if it, but fate has brought Y/N right to him, and this time he wont let it go to waste.

This time, he will make sure to show her how much he loves her, needs her. He will tell her every little thing that happened in his life. There wont ever be a second of silence between them ever again. They will talk. They will talk all night long. Fate wants them together. His heart wants them together. And he wouldnt let them down again.

But if only things were that simple. If only thats the truth, but the fact is... they dont talk anymore. Y/N was right. Y/N was right when she ended it. They havent for the longest time. All the laughter, the kisses, the whispered words of love, its all lost in memories. Memories that will remain in his heart forever. His heart is racing to reach out to her. Hes hoping hers does too.

But they dont talk anymore.

And they never will again.

"Y/N,"

Both eyes locked with one another, staring deep into their souls for a split second, almost tellimg each other how they really feel, that their names are still beating in each others heart, before both pair of eyes quickly averted each other and continue walking, shoulders slightly touching as two past lovers passed by one another, having so much to say but nothing to talk about.

[mingi-baby]

Jealous

Yunho doesn’t get mad

That is, he’s never gotten mad in front of you. Until tonight, when you made him furious.

You both entered your appointment, Yunho slamming the door behind him. He made a beeline towards the bedroom, leaving you alone as you removed your pumps. Once you entered the bedroom, Yunho lay on the bed, already changed from his formal attire. He ignored you, staring intensely at the ceiling.

“What’s your problem?” You’d say, already sure of why he was so mad.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem? Are you fucking serious?” You had literally never seen him so mad, you just wanted to piss him off a bit to see what it was like, but you went a little overboard. You tried to flirt with Mingi all night at dinner, for example, dropping your napkin and standing up to bend over, your ass on display as you picked it up. You winked at him all night, and even caressed his thigh and whispered something nasty in his ear when you stood up to go to the bathroom. Yunho was pissed off, but it was hot as hell. The two of you left abruptly, he firmly gripped your hand and pulled you out of the restaurant. His eyes avoided you, but they were scowling I’m every other direction. On the way home, he was completely silent, his hands gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/n? You know after we left, Mingi texted me and asked if we could have a threesome?” You giggled at that, a bit flattered. “You think this is funny? Do you know how shitty I feel right now? You literally flirted with one of my best friends all night right in front of me and my other best friends.”

“Jeez. I didn’t flirt with him. You’re overthinking so hard right now.” You pretended to feel hurt by false accusations, sitting on your bed and chipping at your nails. Yunho sighed and turned away from you.

“Fine, I’m sorry for yelling. It just really looked like you were flirting with him.”

There was a few seconds of silence between the both of you, before you broke it, saying something that set off Yunho so hard.

“I bet his dick is huge.”

“What?” Yunho shot up, staring at you intensely.

“I said, I bet his dick is huge. Can I tell him to come over- but not a threesome. Just me and him? I want to feel his cock so bad- fuck. You can tell, he knows how to fuck-“ Yunho pushed you down to the bed and crawled over you. His eyes were burning with rage, and you thought maybe you had taken it too far. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding.”

“It’s not fucking funny. Why are you fucking with me right now?” Yunho barked at you.

“C-cause it’s kind of hot...” When you said that, Yunho’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows knitted.

“W-what?” He said.

“I’ve never seen you mad and now that you are it’s kind of hot and- I don’t know I’m sorry, I’m just now realizing that it was rude of me to-“ Yunho smashed his lips onto yours and grabbed a fistful of your hair. He immediately shoved his tongue into your mouth, forcefully pushing yours around and exploring your mouth. He disconnected your mouths to stare at you, furious but full of lust.

“You are such a whore. All this nonsense just because it turned you on? Cause you wanted to be fucked? Guess what princess. I’m not fucking you tonight. I’m fucking with you tonight. You think you can humiliate me without consequences? I’m gonna teach you a lesson, babygirl.” And with that, Yunho jumped off the bed and walked towards your nightstand. The drawer clattered as he pulled it open suddenly, and he grabbed something out of it. In his hand he held a large vibrator/dildo. He dangled it in front of his face and chuckled as you stared in shock.

“You think I didn’t know you had this?” He crawled back over you and shook his head. “God damn, baby. I’m gonna ruin you. Strip.” You followed his directions and striped down all the way, shivering once the air his your bare skin. Yunho smirked as he clicked the vibrator on, your body flinched in response. He placed the toy on your neck, trailing it down your chest and circling your nipples, dancing over your hips and running down each leg, completely ignoring where you needed it.

“How bad do you wanna feel this on your pussy?” He teased you. You squeezed your thighs together and sighed in response. “Not talking?” Yunho asked and placed the vibrator directly on your clit. Pleasure courses through your veins, the intense feeling hitting you like a train compared to being teased just before. You threw your head back, moaned and gripped the sheets.

“Aw baby, too much? That’s too bad.” Yunho seemed to be enjoying himself, so you had to retaliate. So once the shock and response to the sudden stimulation subsided, you did just that.

“I b-bet Mingi could d-do bet-better.” You stuttered. You almost regretted saying that, as Yunho immediately shoved two fingers inside you, curling and thrusting into you sloppily. You yelped and shook at the new feeling combined with the vibrator.

“I’ve got to shut that pretty little mouth of yours. You’re pissing me off.” When you smirked at him, he growled and replaced his fingers with the vibrator. “Sit up.” Yunho lay next to you as you sat up on your knees with shaky thighs. “Why don’t you be a good girl for once and suck my cock.” You pulled his pants down along with his boxers and revealed his thick hard dick. “Get to work babygirl.”

You held his sex in your hand and teased the tip of his dick with your tongue. Yunho thrusted his hips up in disproval. You whimpered as the vibrator continued to assault you, and muffled yourself as you took his head into your mouth. You swore, your orgasm seemed to be approaching out of nowhere, and you paused to calm yourself down, but suddenly you felt your boyfriend’s large hand gripping your hair tight. Yunho forced you all the way down, choking on his long cock.

“Fuck- Jesus Christ baby. What’s wrong with you today? Do I have to do everything today?” He practically fucked your face, pulling and pushing your head down on him. You felt like an absolute whore, being used and messed with. The vibrations felt stronger and stronger with each second and you were wet- fuck you were practically dripping with your juices. You could only whine on your boyfriends cock as you reached your orgasm, gripping his legs as a warning.

“Shit- gonna cum? Don’t you dare cum without permission. Don’t even think about disobeying me, princess.” You clenched your thighs together as a desperate attempt to control yourself. Whining in a high pitch, you drooled on yourself and begged the gods that Yunho would let you cum soon.

“Shit- fuck...oh my god. Mmmmm- baby you feel so good. Fuckfuckfuck-“ Yunho gasped as you swallowed around him. Suddenly, you felt a warm substance run down your throat. Hot, sticky and bitter, you realized that he had cum. That sent you to your own orgasm, vibrator buzzing and a mixture of cum and drool running down your chin and onto Yunho’s lap. You collapsed onto him as it ran through you. Yunho sat up, panting and watching you convulse. He harshly slapped your ass and shook his head.

“What. Did. I. Say.” Yunho demanded.

“N-not to-to cum..I- I’m sorry I couldn’t help- it.” You stuttered, all while the toy continued its assault on you. Yunho made a noise of disappointment and shoved you off him, making his way down to your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re drenched.” He whispered under his breath, and reached for the toy. You thought your punishment would be over, but you were surprised when Yunho turned the vibrations up higher. You nearly blacked out from the overstimulation.

“P-please I c-can’t do it- I cant!” You screamed. Yunho only chuckled and and pulled the toy in and out of you. Your legs on shook the mattress as you saw stars, the overstimulation was destroying you. You begged him to stop and each time he shook his head no.

“Have you learned your lesson, angel?” He asked.

“Yes! Yes! Please stop! Y-Yunho!”

“Tell me you love me. You’re mine, you don’t belong to anyone else. If you pull that shit again you can expect something much worse than this”

“Yes s-sir- I-I love you, I’m yours-PLEASE stop Yunho!” You practically wailed. Within an instant, the stimulation ceased. Your chest heaved as you panted and you finally relaxed.

Gentle kisses were planted on your sweaty skin, and you felt Yunho cleaning you up, wiping your sweat and arousal away.

“You did such a good job.” He whispered. “I’m sorry I went so rough. I got a little jealous...”

“It’s okay. You’re the only one I love, I was just messing around. You’re the only one that makes me feel this way, Yunho. I love you so much, I’m so sorry if I hurt you today,” you mentioned, pulling his face in by his chubby cheeks and kissing him gently.

“I love you too, thank you babygirl.”