#also the stupid voice and expressions are so everything

[damienshaas]

he's so HANDSOMEEEEE HELLOOOOOOOO gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. ALSO THE ROLLED UP SLEEVES. OPEN SHIRT. AND TANKTOP FOR CHEST HAIR????? BARK BARK GRRRRR RAAHH BARK BARK BARK

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[holeforzenin]

Kento’s favorite position will always be fucking you in a mean mating press where he had your body forcefully folded in half by his, because there’s just something so raw and intimate about having your bodies and soft skin pressed up against each other in such a filthy manner. Both of your sweaty bodies melted into each other’s as he pounded you deeper and deeper into the soft mattress with such neediness and desperation. Every time he’d possessively thrust himself into you, it had the entire bed creaking and the mattress sinking lower and lower because of his overpowering strength and weight. It’s almost crazy how he’s practically crushing you with his muscular body. The way he’d manhandle you and bend your legs into your body was so inhuman and fucked up but obviously based on the countless times that he had wrecked your little pussy and stretched your tight walls soo widely to hug his cock in such an ideal way that was only meant for him, in that exact familiar routine of a position. You were very much used to it by now.

The way his damped, tousled blonde hair gently brushed against his chiseled face captured your attention—God he’s so beautiful, no renaissance painting could ever be compared to Kento's face. It was a literal masterpiece. God you couldn’t wait to start a family with this man because you already know you’d have the most cutest babies. He stared down at your fucked out expression that he fucking loved seeing so much, so pretty and alluring. All dumbed down and stupid just from his cock. It never fails to captivate his soul each time he's making love to you. He could stare at you for hours.

You weren’t the most flexible person but of course, Kento always managed to manipulate and manhandle your poor body effortlessly in whatever position that he desired. He’s not mean during sex but he’s definitely not the sweetest either, Especially after he returns home from a frustrating and tough day at work, his mind consumed with stress and pent-up desire and his cock twitching in his pants with heavy, thick balls filled with seed that he’s been storing up to stuff into you with, after he comes from work.

It wasn’t even a second after you greeted him, that honeyed tone in your voice humming his favorite tune, “Kentooo, you’re back!!”. Barely two minutes had passed and in the blink of an eye, you were trapped beneath his large, muscular frame with his aching, swollen length buried sooo deep between your tight walls. his mushroom tip kissing the tender, sensitive spots that made you soo mindlessly dumb, it had you forgetting about the little rule you had about no sex until he’s well fed after work because as his devoted housewife, you also labored diligently to prepare dinner for him.

What if it gets cold?!!

Well, Kento sure doesn’t give a fuck because he’s way too hungry for something else.

His black and yellow tie is loosely dangling over your face as the gentle waft of his minty cologne which you had sprayed on his chest earlier before he went to work, drifts in your nostrils, making your mind hazy and had your pussy pooling even more slick around his veiny shaft. “Good God, fuck this pussy is perfect darling, sooo perfect almost as perfect n pretty as you” his husky voice echoes with admiration, the outline of his bulging veins on his arms straining through his rolled-up sleeves, showcasing the raw strength he had as he gripped onto the sheets besides your head for sheer stability as his tired eyes—visible with exhaustion and teary, lazily stared into yours.

“Kento–“ you cried out, your nails digging into his beefy forearm as you looked up at him with pleading eyes that sent his cock throbbing embarrassingly. Fuck it took everything in him to restrain himself from not getting you pregnant with his kids right now.

“Yes, my love? Tell me what you need darling, m’here for you”. He whispered tenderly, he flashed a charming smile at you before placing a quick, affectionate kiss on your ankle that has been thumping against his huge shoulders the entire time as he ruts his hips into you animalistically.

“Missed you ken!, so so much” your heart beating with desire and love as his chest smushed your soft breasts against him. Beads of sweat glistening from his hairline, threatening to drip onto your face as you move your hands up to wrap them around his neck. A genuine smile spread across his face due to your performance of affection.

“Missed you too my love, God you were clouding my thoughts so much sweetheart, couldn’t stop thinking about you and this pretty little pussy today.” He confessed to you in his deep, sexy voice before smashing his soft lips onto yours. Your nails violently dug into his clothed back that was fortunately shielding him from the nasty, red marks you were plotting to leave. Both of you groaned into the kiss, your spit and saliva mincing together lewdly to the point where it was steeping out of your mouth. His swollen lips feverishly melded against yours, making it practically impossible for you to breathe but you didn’t mind one bit. It all just felt so delicious. His glossy, pink tip skillfully pokes against your sensitive g-spot, making your toes curl in your socks at how good he’s making you feel. God, he was so perfect. His huffs of golden, blond pubic hair tantalizingly grazed against your sticky clit— rubbing it unintentionally, making your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head as he assaulted your lips. your tongues now entwining and swirling together disgustingly. The kiss was so sweet and affectionate, it made your heart fluttered.

His grunts and moans filled the room like a symphony. it was nothing but music to your ears. Kento was perfect in every single way possible. He was such a man, not just any man. He's a gentleman, his masculine presence would be overwhelming for any soul that has never experienced what it'd be like to encounter a real man.

You’d do anything for him, you loved Kento in a particular way where it would be so fucking offensive to the person who founded feminism.

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[ofbatsandballads]

have a little Jason drabble inspired by me going to my work bestie’s bachelorette party tonight. yes, yes I did imagine all this while getting ready and what about it? also consider this a part of my jason gets the girl series.

Jason Todd is a worrier. You knew that the very first night you met him when he automatically assumed that you, a woman living alone and wearing fuzzy pajamas, would be a danger to him. You know that now by his incessant questions that he’s been pelting at you for the past hour.

“You’ll keep in contact with me, right?” he asks from the other side of the shower curtain.

“Of course, Jay,” you reply as you twist like a contortionist while shaving your legs.

“I know it’s a bachelorette party, but please don’t drink so much that you don’t know what’s goin’ on around you, baby,” he says, voice raised so you can hear him over your hair dryer.

“I know, Jay. I’ve not forgotten where we live!” you shout back as reassuringly as you can.

“You sure I can’t convince ya to stay here with me?” he asks, only half joking, as you flip through the hangers in your shared closet looking for what to wear.

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” you concede as he kisses down your neck. “But no. Alas, I cannot be a shitty friend.”

“Fine. But at least wear somethin’ that goes with the jacket I got you,” he grumbles.

You laugh under your breath. This man. He’s such a worry wart. But you get it. Jason goes out every night into the belly of the beast, sees the worst of the worst. He knows what happens to vulnerable young women in this city, and you can’t blame him for his overprotective nature. So if wearing the tan leather jacket, a smaller replica of the one he wears as Red Hood, that has a tracker sewn into the interior is what he needs to ease his anxious mind, you’ll do it without complaint.

“It’s a gorgeous jacket, Jaybear. It goes with everything,” you say as you scratch soothingly at his scalp.

“You know where you’ll be tonight?” he asks from the foot of your bed, watching you as you put on your makeup.

“Uh huh. We’re not going to any bars or clubs or anything like that. Maid of honor just rented a penthouse in the Diamond District. We’ll probably spend the night eating pizza and drinking cocktails,” you answer as you try not to stab yourself in the eye with your mascara wand.

Jason makes a little grunt of agreement. You idly think that he sounds just like his dad, but you also don’t say that because you’re not a complete idiot. Also because you once told Jason he looked like Bruce and how miraculous that was since he was adopted, and he spent the next three days mumbling 'don't look anythin’ like the old man’ every time he glanced in a mirror.

You glance behind you in the vanity mirror to see the love of your life. His expression tugs your heartstrings. He looks so…melancholy. Emotions are storming in his sea green eyes and all you want is to ease his worries. You lay down your makeup brush and pad over to him, settling down in his lap. His hands come up automatically to rest on your hips, thumbs stroking over the softness.

“What’s wrong, angel?” you whisper, smoothing out the creases between his furrowed eyebrows with the tips of your fingers.

“I don’t—” he stops abruptly, tries to find the words he needs. “I’m not tryin’ to be overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those guys that tells their girl what to do.”

He takes a breath and you stay silent. He has to get this out and you’ll wait as long as it takes.

“I just…worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t,” and his voice breaks like stained glass. “I wouldn’t survive it. I know this is fuckin’ stupid. Me actin’ like this over a bachelorette party but I just…I can’t stop thinkin’ about all the things that could happen.”

Oh. Oh, your sweet, loving, heaven sent boyfriend. You know his past haunts him, that this city haunts him. You wish you could take all his worries away and wrap him in a nice warm blanket. You’d tuck him away from the world, keep him safe and happy and cared for all his days if you could.

“Jason, look at me,” you tilt his head up with your fingers under his jaw. “I promise you I will do everything in my power to be as safe as possible. I won’t drink irresponsibly. I’ll make sure to text you if anything, and I mean anything, starts to get weird. It won’t, but if it did you would be on speed dial. And trust me, angel, I have no intentions of staying the night.”

You don’t. Good friend or not, you can’t sleep well if you’re not wrapped in the strong arms of the man beneath you.

“So I expect you to be waiting on that tricked out bike of yours to pick me up,” you beam at him, run your hand through his hair because you know it makes him melt into your touch.

“I’ll be waitin’ for you,” he says, a solemn promise that extends far beyond tonight.

“Good. Now that being said, I will be bringing home all the dick decorations because I wanna plant them in your brother’s apartment. Just to fuck with him,” you giggle.

Jason lights up for the first time tonight. His green eyes gleam with mischief and adoration.

“Oh, you are my fuckin’ soulmate, baby. I’ll help you break in.”

[inseobts]

oh my goddd I just read the Monster trio & pregnant reader fic and i loved it.

Could you write about them as baby dads?

🫵 Made Him a Dad

after the pregnancy and labor let's see they’re doing as newly dads?

a/n: tried to not be repetitive but it was hard lmao

also a special thanks and credits to @katsukis-foxie6 for giving me some ideas, espcially for sanji's ❤︎❤︎❤︎

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji

words count: around 0.9k - 1.3k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The Straw Hat crew was anchored at a small island, taking a rare break after a long stretch of adventures. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the ship as you cradled your baby girl, Dawn, in your arms. She was only a few months old, but her presence already seemed to brighten every corner of the Thousand Sunny. Her tiny hands wrapped around your finger, and the sound of her soft giggles filled the air.

Luffy, his usual exuberance toned down just a bit, sat across from you, his eyes locked on Dawn with a mixture of pride and awe.

“She’s so cute, y/n,” Luffy said with his signature grin, his voice filled with warmth “Look at her! She’s already so strong! I bet she’s gonna be a great pirate!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at Luffy’s enthusiasm “She’s barely even walking yet, Luffy. Maybe let’s wait a few years before we start recruiting her into the crew.”

Luffy’s face lit up “Oh, at her age I already wanted to be the king of pirates!" He turns to look at you and your serious face kinda scares him "...Y-yeah, we should let her grow a little first! But she’s gonna be the best, I just know it! I’ll teach her everything I know!”

Suddenly, a loud voice boomed from the shore, and you looked up to see none other than your grandfather-in-law, Garp, strolling toward the ship with a big grin plastered on his face.

“Oi, Luffy!” Garp shouted, his signature Marine coat fluttering behind him “I heard you had a kid! About time you stopped being such a carefree idiot and started taking responsibility!”

Luffy jumped to his feet immediately, his eyes widening with excitement “Grandpa! You’re here!” He grabbed Dawn from your arms before you could even protest, holding her in front of Garp with the same proud grin he always wore “Look! This is my daughter!”

You stood up and approached them with a smile, watching Garp’s reaction carefully. Garp stared down at the tiny bundle in Luffy’s arms, his usual gruff expression softening as he regarded her.

“She’s tiny,” Garp muttered, squinting at Dawn, but his voice held a strange tenderness “I didn’t think Luffy could make something this cute.”

Luffy puffed out his chest with pride “She’s gonna grow strong, just like me! And she’s gonna be a great pirate!”

Garp grunted, crossing his arms “A pirate, huh? You’ve got a long way to go if you’re gonna make her one of your little nakama, brat.”

Luffy beamed, clearly not bothered by the teasing “I’ll make sure she’s ready! Right, Dawn?” He shook her gently, making silly noises that caused her to giggle. Dawn’s tiny fingers grasped at Luffy’s hand, and it seemed like the whole world stopped for a second.

Garp let out a low chuckle, his usual gruff demeanor melting a bit as he saw the deep love in Luffy’s eyes “Well, kid, looks like you’re serious about being a dad. I can’t believe it, but I guess you’ve really grown up. She’s got your stupid grin, that’s for sure.”

Luffy looked over at you with wide eyes, his face flushed with excitement “Grandpa likes her! He said she looks like me!”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for both your husband and daughter “She has your smile, alright” you said gently, brushing a strand of hair from Dawn’s face.

Luffy beamed, clearly feeling validated by Garp’s approval “I’m gonna teach her all kinds of stuff! How to eat a ton, how to never give up on your dreams, and how to make sure the meat’s always cooked perfectly! She’s gonna be awesome!”

Garp raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into a smirk “Well, she’s not gonna be a pirate, that’s for sure.”

Luffy blinked in confusion “Huh? What do you mean? She’s gonna be the greatest pirate ever!”

Garp crossed his arms, grinning mischievously “No way. I’ve seen what happens when you let brats like you run wild. She’s gonna be a Marine, just like her old grandpa.”

Luffy’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head in disbelief “What?! No way! She’s gonna be a pirate! You can’t stop that!”

Garp laughed, thoroughly amused by Luffy’s reaction “Oh, I can see it now: ‘Little Dawn, future Marine Admiral!’ No pirates for her! She’ll be the one taking you down one day.”

Luffy’s face scrunched up in determination “No! You’ll see! She’ll be a pirate! And she’s gonna be the best one there is!”

You chuckled softly at their bickering, watching as Garp playfully ruffled Luffy’s hair and then glanced down at Dawn.

“She’s got a strong spirit, though,” Garp admitted with a sigh, softening just a little “I can tell she’ll be a handful, just like her old man. But I’ll make sure she knows the proper way to punch things if she ever tries to follow in your footsteps.”

Luffy grinned, not giving up on his dream “I’ll make sure she’s ready to punch things too—pirate things!”

Garp snorted and let out a deep laugh “Well, kid, you’ve got a good one here. Just don’t be surprised when she ends up in a Marine uniform one day.”

Luffy huffed but looked down at Dawn lovingly “We’ll see about that.”

As the sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, you felt the promise of a new journey unfolding, one with your family at the heart of it all. With Luffy by your side and Garp giving his usual advice, there was no doubt that little Dawn would grow up surrounded by love, adventure, and laughter, her own future as bright as the sun setting before you.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Your daughter, barely a few months old, has her tiny fingers wrapped around his index finger, her grip firm, almost unrelenting. Zoro raises an eyebrow as he tries to gently pull away, but she refuses to let go, her tiny face scrunching up in determination.

“Damn,” he mutters, glancing at you as you sit beside him, amused “She’s strong.”

You laugh softly, leaning against his arm “Like her dad.”

Zoro doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he watches your daughter with an unreadable expression, his free hand absentmindedly running over her soft, wispy hair. The moment lingers, quiet, thoughtful, before he finally speaks again.

“No,” he says, voice low “Like her mom.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. When you look up at him, you see the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers twitch slightly against your daughter’s back. He’s thinking about something serious. Something deep.

Zoro’s gaze flickers to you, intense in that way only he can be “That day…” He exhales sharply through his nose. “And not just that day. The whole damn time. Pregnancy, labor... all of it. I thought I knew what strength was, but I didn’t. Not really.”

Your chest tightens. Zoro isn’t one to put things into words often, but when he does, he means every syllable.

“I couldn’t do anything at all,” he admits, still staring at your daughter’s tiny hand around his finger “I just had to sit there and watch while you went through all of it. No fight I’ve ever been in, no injury I’ve ever had... it’s nothing compared to that.” He finally looks back at you, eyes dark with something raw “You’re stronger than me, y/n, believe me.”

You feel your breath catch.

It’s not just the words, it’s also the way he says them, with complete sincerity. Zoro, who has trained his entire life to be the strongest swordsman, means it. He believes it.

You squeeze his arm gently, your voice soft “Zoro…”

He huffs, shaking his head as if the thought still overwhelms him. Then, his expression softens just a little as he looks down at your daughter again. She’s still gripping his finger tightly, completely oblivious to the weight of the moment.

Zoro smirks faintly “She’s lucky to have you as her mom” he mutters.

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest “She’s lucky to have you as her dad.”

He doesn’t answer right away, but you catch the way his grip on your daughter shifts slightly, gentler, but still firm. Protective. Always.

She might have his strength, but Zoro knows exactly where it comes from.

And he’ll never forget it.

Zoro started to be protective towards her since you first announced your pregnancy.

He’s that type of super stressed dads who keeps running around following every single thing she does so that he can catch her if needed. All this with always a big blush on his face.

But it’s not that bad that he controls her bec, in fact, right now, your one-year-old daughter is standing in the middle of the deck, holding onto Luffy’s index fingers as he swings her back and forth like a human jump rope. Every time he lifts her up, she squeals in delight, kicking her little legs mid-air before landing on the deck.

“Again! Again!” she demands, her tiny fists gripping Luffy’s fingers with ridiculous strength.

Zoro, standing nearby with his arms crossed, scowls “Oi. Don’t drop her.”

Luffy grins, stretching his lips wide “Don’t worry! I won’t!”

You, sitting on a crate just a few feet away, shake your head with a sigh “She’s fine, Zoro. Look at her, she’s having fun.”

Zoro doesn’t budge, arms still crossed “She’s one wrong step away from flying into the ocean.”

Luffy gasps, looking at Kazuki with sparkling eyes “You wanna fly?!”

“Luffy, NO.” you and Zoro shout at the same time.

Kazuki claps her hands “Fly!”

“NO,” Zoro repeats firmly, glaring at Luffy “You are not throwing my kid.”

Luffy pouts “But she’s got a strong grip! She wouldn’t even let go—”

“Luffy,” you say, rubbing your temples “let’s not test her durability today, please.”

Luffy sighs dramatically but doesn’t argue. Instead, he lifts Kazuki up and plops her on his shoulders, holding onto her tiny hands so she doesn’t wobble off.

Zoro mutters under his breath but doesn’t stop it. At least Luffy’s holding onto her.

Sanji chooses this moment to stroll onto the deck, cigarette between his lips but dropping it as he walks towards Kazuki “There’s my little princess,” he coos, hands in his pockets “You hungry, sweetheart?”

Kazuki, who has long since associated Sanji with food, beams “Yummy?”

Sanji grins “The yummiest. I made you something special.”

Zoro immediately frowns “What did you make her?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Relax, moss-head. Just some soft fruit and rice balls.”

Zoro doesn’t move “You sure there’s nothing weird in it?”

Sanji bristles, instantly getting in his face “Weird? She’s a baby, you muscle-brained swordsman! What the hell do you think I’d put in her food?”

You sigh, standing up to intervene before they actually start fighting “Okay, okay, both of you calm down. Sanji, thanks for making her food. Zoro, you really do look stressed, why don’t you go take a nap? I’ll stay with her.”

“I’m good, I’ll go later… don’t worry” he says softly but still watches like a hawk as Sanji hands Kazuki a tiny rice ball. She immediately grabs it with both hands and shoves it into her mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Good?” Sanji asks, kneeling to her level.

Kazuki chews, sways on her little feet, then beams “Good!”

You smile and ruffle her hair “Say ‘thank you,’ Kazu.”

Kazuki tilts her head, then garbles around the mouthful of rice “Fanku.”

Sanji clutches his chest like he’s been shot “Ohh, my sweet little angel, you’re so polite—”

Zoro scoffs “Don’t act like you raised her.”

Kazuki points a chubby little finger at Zoro and proudly declares “Dada’s idiot.”

Silence.

Then the crew loses it.

Luffy collapses onto the floor, clutching his stomach. Nami has to lean against a barrel, wiping tears from her eyes. Sanji turns away, shoulders shaking with laughter. Even Robin chuckles from where she’s reading in her chair.

Zoro stares at Kazuki, completely betrayed.

You, barely containing your laughter, kneel beside her “Sweetheart, don’t call your daddy an idiot.”

Kazuki tilts her head, as if deep in thought. Then, just as serious, she looks back at Zoro and says—

“Dada’s big idiot.”

Zoro groans so loud it nearly rattles the ship.

Luffy wheezes. Nami nearly falls over. Usopp actually falls over.

You bite your lip, but it’s no use, you’re laughing too.

Zoro glares at all of you “I blame all of you for this... y/n, stop it”

Kazuki, sensing she’s won, lifts her arms up to Zoro. He sighs, scooping her up, resting her against his chest. She immediately nuzzles into his shoulder, letting out a happy little hum.

“Dada” she murmurs.

Zoro exhales, the corner of his lips twitching despite himself. He presses a kiss to her hair, murmuring, “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I like you, brat.”

You step closer, resting a hand on his arm “You love her” you tease.

Zoro scoffs “Obviously… unlike you, she doesn’t know what she’s saying”

You go and leave a quick peck on his lips “You’re my lovely big big idiot”.

He blushes like crazy.

Kazuki looks up, sleepy “Dada?”

“Hm?”

She grins “Dada’s big big idiot.”

The crew howls with laughter.

Zoro sighs so deeply, but even as the teasing continues, he holds Kazuki a little closer.

She’s happy, safe, and in his arms. That’s all that matters.

That afternoon, you find them sleeping adorably together, in the same napping position. Smiling, you take a blanket and gently cover them both. Zoro stirs awake, thinking the baby has moved, something that makes you smile even more, knowing how hard it usually is to wake him. When he sees it’s you, he reaches for your hand and quietly invites you to join them, pulling you in for a cuddle.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji is soft with her.

Softer than you ever thought possible.

You watch from the doorway as he sits on the edge of your shared bed, cradling your daughter so delicately, like she’s made of glass. His thumb gently strokes over her tiny fingers, his breath slow, steady, controlled. But his eyes hold something else.

Something hesitant.

Something uncertain.

Your heart tightens.

“She’s sleeping,” you whisper, stepping closer “You don’t have to be so tense.”

Sanji barely glances up “I know.”

But he doesn’t relax. Not even a little.

Instead, he just keeps staring at her, as if waiting for something. As if at any moment, she’ll change into something unfamiliar, something he won’t know how to handle.

You sit beside him, curling close, resting your head against his shoulder. One arm wraps around his waist, the other reaching out to trace the soft fabric of the onesie your daughter is bundled in. She shifts slightly, making a tiny sound, and Sanji freezes.

You feel the sharp inhale he takes. The way his fingers twitch, just barely, as if bracing himself.

And suddenly, you understand.

“Sanji.” You keep your voice gentle “What’s wrong?”

He exhales slowly through his nose “Nothing.”

You don’t let that slide. Not with him. Not when he’s never been able to lie to you.

You shift, pulling back just enough to see his face “You’re scared.”

His jaw tenses, his grip on your daughter tightening the smallest bit “Of course I am,” he murmurs “I’ve never done this before.”

You shake your head “No, I know it's not just that.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. You can see it all over him, the weight of his past, the fears he won’t say out loud.

So you say them for him... “You’re scared of being like him.”

Sanji flinches.

It’s barely noticeable. A fraction of movement, a flicker in his expression. But you know him too well.

“I’m not,” he starts, but his voice falters “I mean—I would never—”

“I know,” you cut in softly “And she’ll know too.”

His breath shudders “But what if—”

“She won’t be like them, Sanji.” You rest your hand over his, where he’s still holding her so, so carefully “And even if she was, she’d still be ours.”

Sanji swallows hard “I don’t want her to be cold,” he whispers “I don’t want her to feel like she has to earn love. I don’t want her to think—” He stops, jaw clenching “Like I did.”

Your chest tightens.

You knew. Of course you knew. You knew how deep his scars ran, how much he still carried, no matter how much love he poured into everyone else.

You squeeze his hand “She won’t.”

Sanji shakes his head “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” you insist, voice steady “Because you are her father.”

That makes him pause.

“She’s going to grow up knowing love, Sanji. Because you give it so easily, so naturally. Because you would rather die than see her cry. Because when she wakes up at night, you hold her before I can even sit up. Because you—” Your voice wavers, but you press on “Because you are already the best father she could ever have.”

Sanji exhales, shaky, uneven. His grip on your daughter loosens just slightly, his thumb resuming its soft strokes against her tiny hand.

“She’s so small” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You smile, leaning into him again “Yeah. But she’s yours.”

That does something to him.

You feel the tension in his body shift, melting just a little. He looks down at your daughter again, something lighter in his expression now. Something less like fear and more like wonder.

“She’s beautiful” he breathes.

You kiss his shoulder “Like her dad.”

Sanji huffs, but you can hear the warmth creeping into his voice “I hope not. She deserves better than a troublesome cook.”

You nudge him playfully “She has a father who will love her unconditionally.”

Sanji doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shifts, adjusting his hold on her, drawing her closer. And when he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it.

“Yeah, she has that.”

Your throat tightens.

You don’t say anything, just slide your arms around him, tucking yourself against his side, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Sanji rests his chin lightly atop your head. He’s quiet for a moment, but you can feel the way his heartbeat slows, steadying.

Then, just as softly, almost like an afterthought, he murmurs, “I was easy to love. My father was just really bad.”

Your breath catches.

It’s not something he’s ever said before, not so plainly, not so simply.

But now, with his daughter sleeping in his arms, with you curled up beside him, with love so clear and so real around him, he finally believes it.

The fears won’t vanish overnight. The scars won’t disappear. But right here, right now, in the quiet of your room, with your daughter safe in his arms Sanji finally lets himself believe it.

He is more than enough.

And he always will be.

The next morning you wake up to chaos.

“Oi, oi, oi, CAREFUL!” Sanji nearly vaults over the table as Luffy lifts the baby girl high into the air, laughing as she squeals in delight “Luffy, she’s not a sack of flour, PUT HER DOWN!”

“She likes it, though!” Luffy beams, spinning in a circle with her in his arms “Right, mini-cook?”

His daughter giggling is the only reason Sanji doesn’t immediately drop-kick his captain into the next century. Instead, he clenches his fists and growls, “If you drop her, Luffy, so help me—”

“Oh, come on, love-cook,” Zoro snickers, leaning back against the railing “You’re acting like she’s made of glass.”

Sanji whirls around to glare at him “You grip your sword too tight, you sit too close, you BREATHE wrong, and I swear—”

“Oh no,” Nami sighs, crossing her arms with a smirk “We’ve lost him.”

Usopp nods dramatically “RIP Sanji. He used to be cool.”

Franky wipes an imaginary tear “Another victim of dad syndrome.”

Sanji ignores them, practically vibrating with anxiety as Luffy tosses the baby just slightly in the air before catching her again.

“LUFFY, I SWEAR TO ALL THE—”

You snort. Loudly.

And just like that, Sanji freezes.

His brain short-circuits because—oh.

You’re laughing.

Not a little chuckle, not a polite giggle. Full-on, tears-in-your-eyes laughter.

Sanji forgets about murdering Luffy, forgets about all the dumbasses around him, because you’re happy.

His shoulders drop. His fists loosen.

Then, as if sensing his shift, his daughter suddenly reaches her arms out for him.

Sanji immediately swoops in, taking her from Luffy and holding her close to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead “That’s enough flying for today, sweetheart.”

Nami smirks “Aww, the overprotective dad act is over already?”

Sanji barely reacts. Instead, he turns to you, watching the way you’re still wiping laughter from your eyes, and—

God.

If this is what family feels like, if this is what love feels like, then he never, ever wants anything else in the whole world.

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

____________________________________________

“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

____________________________________________

Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

____________________________________________

[potchi-fics]

note: amab caitlyn. contains overstimulation, breeding kink, and jealous cait yummy. ang sarap niya fuckkkk sarap sarap sarap ALSO I DIDNT REALIZE THIS WAS SO LONG (not proofread. and i kid you not, my google docs crashed THREE TIMES while i was writing this. this is my new years present to yall--2024 may be down but cait's dick is up)

“darling, you know we have to go out in thirty minutes,” caitlyn’s distant voice called out from your closet.

you’re currently doing up your make-up in front of the mirror, doing finishing touches, “yeah, i know, baby. i’m about to be done. how about you?”

      you see her come out of the room, whistling when you see her outfit, it’s an all-black outfit: jacket with a black button-up, trousers, and loafers. simple yet elegant. she walks towards you while fixing the cuffs of her button-up.

“you look absolutely beautiful, darling,” her arms snake around your hips, kissing the side of your neck, “do we have to go?”

just in time to finish your make-up, a giggle escapes your lips, and you turn around to face her, your own wrapping around her neck, “you look gorgeous, baby. and you, house kiramman, are the ones hosting the gala, stupid.”

      she gives you a tight-lipped smile, her eyes squinting for a second but you see it, she doesn’t want to go. you gently pull her down, how she grew so much is still a mystery to you.

“it’ll be done before you know it,” you peck her lips, your lipstick leaving its mark on her—you rub it away tenderly, “come on, honey. we are gonna be late.” your kisses seemed to repeat, enunciating every word with a kiss.

caitlyn hums in content, her eyes closing, “you do realize your lipstick is fading the more you kiss me, right?”

“i’ll retouch in the car.”

…

      the gala is everything you expected: formal, rich people. you step into the venue and you immediately spot mrs. kiramman and her husband.

she hugs you, “i’m glad you two are able to make it.” she makes her way to her daughter, “surprised you’re here, can’t seem to pull you away from your work.”

“good thing i’m here, mrs. kiramman,” an arm wraps around your waist, kissing the top of your head, “caitlyn here is married to her work, i swear. and here i thought i was gonna be married to her first.”

“i am not married to my work.” caitlyn grumbles, sticking closer to you. “i am a very busy woman, is all.”

      you two converse with her parents for a while before an attending guest invited himself in your little party, taking away the older couple. that leaves the two of you alone. you grab a champagnes, offering caitlyn a glass. 

for about an hour or two, you two got separated, engaging other people. you give caitlyn a smile, who is on the other side of the room when you catch her gaze. she’s been watching you occasionally, keeping an eye on you.

and she doesn’t miss how a woman is trying to hit on you. of course, you’re oblivious to it. caitlyn’s eyes glint dangerously under the light, her teeth grinding when she sees the woman touch your arm, lingering for someone who’s supposed to be a stranger, undressing you with her eyes, and even going as far as touching your back, it barely made contact, but still. and that’s enough for her to down her champagne, make a beeline for to you, her strides strong and wide.

“oh, and this is my partner, caitlyn kiramman,” caitlyn rightfully takes her spot beside you, squeezing herself in between you and the stranger, “hi, honey.”

“hello,” she gives your little crowd a charming smile, though it holds a little bit of malice. she pulls you closer to her, “i may need to steal her away. we have some business to attend to, i’m afraid so.”

      without giving you a chance to talk, you two walk away—you’re glad though, you are tired of their stuffy personalities. a confused expression takes over your face when caitlyn leads you outside of the venue, leading you to a hallway and going through door after door.

your gaze observes the room, and you assume that the two of you are very far away from the party. she locks the door, unbottons her jacket, taking it off, and throws it on a couch.

“cait, where are w–”

      you didn’t get to finish your question because her lips were on yours the moment you spoke, her hand going on the side of your neck, fingers softly digging themselves into your skin to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss. 

you whimper when you feel her tongue take a swipe on your lips, asking you to open your mouth and you do. her tongue slithers in, licking every part of your mouth. she is demanding, yearning—like she wants all of you.

her knee presses between your legs, you let out a whimper of pleasure, grounding yourself on her thigh, your hands clutching the fabric of her shirt. 

“grind yourself on my leg, darling.” she pulls away to say, her voice deep and husky, “i’m waiting.”

      you’ve never been so happy to wear a side-slit dress. thanks to the access, you’re able to grind on caitlyn’s leg, rubbing your clothed pussy; the numb pleasure takes over your mind, caitlyn’s adding to your pleasure by leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, collarbone, lips, everywhere her lips could reach.

your hips stutter, and your clit going sensitive—it’s maddening, you need more. but caitlyn won’t give it to you, not yet. you let out a gasp, burying your head on her shoulder, the pleasure slowly taking over your whole being; it’s as if your body is on fire. 

you start to feel lightheaded. desperate for more, you grab your hand, leading it under your dress, your other tugging it higher, a flush creeping up your neck at the thought of doing this outside your home.

“hmm?” caitlyn knows how to make you beg, she resists your movements, throwing a teasing smile your way, “what is it you want, my love? i’m gonna need you to say what you want.”

you narrow your eyes at her, your gaze betraying the frustration you try to keep at bay, “honey, you dragged me here. take responsibility.”

“of course, darling.” caitlyn clutches a handful of your dress, crumpling it as she pulls it higher to expose your lower body. she removes herself from you and kneels, her hand gripping your undergarments, yanking it down in a rough, deliberate motion, taking it off of you. “i’ll take responsibility.”

      she puts one leg over her shoulder, caitlyn looking up at you as she takes one lick at your awaiting cunt, studying how close your eyes, head tilting back against the wall; watching how you stifled a gasp, but a faint sound slips through. 

desire coursed through her, undeniable and all-consuming—she went harder, deeper, sinking further into you, her nose bumping with your clit. your hands dart down, gripping her hair with desperation and need. she flattens her tongue for you, and you take that chance to grind your hips. you can feel yourself dripping, it’s beginning to travel down your legs. 

a low hum of satisfaction reverbed around the room, sending vibrations on your cunt—caitlyn is loving every second of this. knowing that only she can see you break down like this. her dick is begging to be let out.

you push her away, your breaths coming in short pants, and due to her being caught off-guard, she fell on her backside, staring up at you wildly. in an instant, you’re on your knees, crawling to where she is, coming between her legs.

your fingers fumble with the button of her trousers, pulling it down along with her undergarments, setting her weeping cock free. 

“care to explain what’s going on here, caitlyn?” there’s huskiness to your voice, smooth yet commanding—your hands wrap themselves around the base of her cock, your mouth going dangerously near it, “go on then.”

caitlyn speaks the words, but her eyes give her away, “nothing is going on.”

“try again, baby.” you kiss her tip, a flinch is what you get from her. you continue to kiss everywhere: her dick, her thighs, her abdomen, her navel.

only did she speak when her lower body is covered in lipstick kisses, and she’s left throbbing in need. she grits out, “blame that woman. she was too touchy.”

“oh?” she lets out a groan of frustration, leaning back on her elbows, throwing her head back, and closing her eyes, “jealous?”

“i don’t get jealo–”

“then allow me to assure you.”

      you take her dick inside your mouth, inches after inches going down your throat, and all she can do is watch you take it. a guttural moan escapes her lips, her hips slightly lifting off of the ground—you close your eyes when you feel her go even deeper.

for a second, you stay there, deepthroating caitlyn, your nose buried in her neat patch of tamed hair, shaking your head ever so lightly; caitlyn loves it when you do that and she gives you a growl of appreciation.

she grabs your head, her other palm lying flat on the floor as leverage, and her hips take off. caitlyn’s eyes are unfocused, a distant haze clouding them as she soaks in the sight of you happily taking it.

“you love this, don’t– fuck, don’t you?” she murmurs. “always such a good girl for me.”

      to answer her question, you swallow around her, the motion made her falter, breaking her rhythm. your hands pressed firmly against her hips, keeping her down—you pull up, sucking only the tip, eyes meeting, and then slowly going back down.

“all the way to the base for me, darling,” she gently pushes your head to guide you, her cock twitching when your nose meets with her hair once again, “there you go. good girl. i’m close.”

you come back up suddenly, maneuvering yourself to straddle her hips, your hand darting down to lead her inside of you, “not yet.”

caitlyn grits out the words through clenched teeth, “it’ll be difficult in this position, darling.” she places her hands under your knees, your hands shooting out to wrap around her neck as she stands up.

      you feel the wall on your back, she drops one leg, keeping one leg lifted. the groans that leave you both as she enters you are raw, eyes fluttering close. god, she just keeps on sliding inside of you, you swear she’s kissing your cervix. 

caitlyn withdrew slowly, then returned in, taking her time with every inch. your hand comes down to cover your mouth, you’re still in public, after all. and caitlyn notices. a sudden slam of her hips made you let out a soft moan, but barely audible.

her relentless harsh thrusts never let up. caitlyn feels so good, you feel so good around her, you squeeze her so good; your whimpers, your ragged breaths hitting her throat, mewling out her name like a broken record every time the head of her gushing dick of precum hits your spot, it’s all too much for her. her head drops down to your shoulder as she cums—the wave of sudden warmth filling you taking you by surprise, your eyes unfocusing, tightening around her cock. 

by the time she’s done filling you up, she’s still moving her hips, pushing through her sensitivity. she needs this. she needs you.

she puts down your leg, turning you around, not pulling out of you. with your palms on the wall, her hands find your hips, holding it with a bruising grip, each slam of her hips on your backside sending you forward.

“only i could touch you like that, my love,” her frustration seeps through her thrusts, the claps of your hips mixing with your broken moans, “who does she think she is.”

      your knees buckle, but thanks to her strength, she holds you up. she may look lanky due to her height and weight, but she’s pure muscle. you grip her wrist, unable to form words because how could you when you feel her deep inside your gut, when you feel your slick trailing down your leg, making a mess on the floor, or simply the feeling of her cock going in and out of you.

your orgasm comes out of nowhere, catching you and her off-guard, your body shudders in pleasure, shaking and spasming, triggering another one from caitlyn. she bends down, groaning in your nape as she fills you again.

her thrusts transition into lazy ones as you ride out your orgasms. you nuzzle your cheek against her head, your throat beginning to sore, swallowing with difficulty. 

she pulls out of you, letting you two slide down the floor. you take this chance to lie on your back, your legs shivering, your forearm covering your sweaty face. you feel her firm but gentle touch on your legs.

her hands are back on the back of your knees again, forcing them up until you’re nearly folded in half, further ruining your dress, “one more.”

      she slides her cock in, your eyes rolling back in pleasure at the new angle—she is much deeper in this position. she feels your cunt flutter, pulling her in if that’s even possible. 

she begins her ruthless pace again, your breasts bouncing in your dress with the force of her thrust, determined to fill you up, to cum inside of you again and again. the pleasure is drowning you, whimpering when she hits your spot, then abusing it over and over and over again. you lift your head to see her dick disappear inside your sopping sensitive cunt, and to listen to the wet noises every time caitlyn thrusts back in you.

she wasn’t much better than you—her ruthless pace is becoming sloppy, uncoordinated, chasing her own high. her choked moans, breathy sighs as you milk her, feeds your ego.

you don’t make a sound when you cum for the second time, only the fluttering of your pussy makes it known. caitlyn doubles her effort by circling your clit, effectively intensifying your orgasm. only did she allow herself to cum when your fingers dig into her sides. 

she forces her dick in you, going deeper than ever before. the spurts of her gushing dick emit a soft sigh from you, she presses her face into your neck as she lets go of your legs. you hold her, playing with the hairs on the back of her head, not letting go until she’s done filling you up.

“fuck, cait, are you trying to get me pregnant or what.” you allow your limbs to relax, and you feel her cum drip down out of you. you’re sweaty and sticky all over, your throat sore, ears ringing, legs are shaking, pussy filled with her cum, eyes still unfocused, “you are an animal, honey.”

      you feel her kiss your jaw, her breaths still ragged, hitting your neck. you both moan as she pulls out, your face burns at the sight of her creamy cock, still twitching, and dripping with cum.

she sits back and leans on the wall, hissing when she grabbed the base of her dick. your whole body is screaming at you to lie down, however, you crawl again to her, sitting next to her. her eyes close shut and she lets her head fall on top of your head.

taking this chance, you wrap your hands around her softening dick; she reacts quickly, her fingers gripping your wrist.

“ah-ah. hands off, honey.” you pull your hand off your wrist. slowly, you jerk her off, swiping your thumb over her head, “just one more.”

      you let a mischievous smirk form when you see her face contort into pain and pleasure, the sensitivity becoming too much for her.

you pump your hand, relishing every time her cock twitches in your hand, every time her hips try to pull away from your hand. you see her hands form a fist, this must be painful for her.

“i did say i’ll assure you, didn’t i?” you kiss her cheek, your mouth lingering on it, “can you cum for me again?”

caitlyn’s hips start to subtly thrust up to meet your pumps, she feels your every touch, every line on your hands. her mouth hands open, her eyes remain closed, she’s pulsing in your hand.

“you’re the only person i touch like this, cailtyn.” your breath hitting her ears adds to her pleasure that is spreading all over her body. “yeah? just like this?” 

“da-darling,” caitlyn gasps out, “too sen-sensitive.” you grip harder, pump harder, “please, i can’t anymo-more.” 

      her back arches off the wall, eyes opening suddenly when she feels you take her tip in your mouth, sucking her like candy. she makes an attempt at pulling her hips back but it’s no use. it hurts. It hurts so good.

you hollow your cheeks, your hand following your mouth as your slurp, gag, and suck. caitlyn doesn’t know what to do, it’s too much for her—the burning pleasure on her cock. yet she yearns to cum.

you go back up for air, taking her tip in, not giving her a break, and your hand pumps the remaining inches. “go-gonna cum, darling–”

      without letting her speak, you quickly push her in you, smiling when you feel her cum inside of you again. she wraps her arms around your torso, grounding you unto her dick as she thrusts up, her cum painting your walls white again.

she muffles her groans using your chest, hugging you so tightly, that her muscles are flexing under her clothes. a sigh of contentment leaves you when she stops rocking her hips up, her dick softening inside of you.

“still jealous?” her breaths were ragged, coming in short gasps as she tried to steady herself. “come back to me, cait.”

oh, you done broke her.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

──── EVEN WHEN IT'S HARD... ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka the one where even when it's hard...sim jaeyun will always choose you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 1.1k ⌗ angst angst ANGST, reader is a lil self-sabotaging, jakey gets v v sad :(, but then comfort, reassurance, & fluff<3

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── hello pls don't be mad at me for this one,,,decided to throw another angsty one into the mix because once again─i really wanna make this series realistic and i totally see yn still getting into her own head every now & then. and it's totally normal & realistic for couples to have lil moments of miscommunication and i feel like this is how jake would handle it :') bc at the end of the day, he will always choose yn...

You don’t even know how you got here.

It probably started small.

Something barely noticeable—something as small as a mere thought in the back of your head. A flicker of doubt—the kind that’s been fading, slowly but surely, over time.

But still lingers.

Like a crack in glass you don’t notice until the whole thing shatters.

Maybe it was a comment.

A look.

Maybe the restaurant you recommended but it ended up being mediocre.

The too-long silence during the drive back home from dinner.

And now here you are.

Standing in the middle of your living room, your bag still half-slung off your shoulder, while Jake stands from across the space—watching you with his arms limp at his side, a pout on his lips, confused and concerned, like he doesn’t know what’s happening.

And you don’t even remember what you said.

Only the way Jake’s face fell.

The way his shoulders sank immediately, like something slipped through his fingers and he didn’t even realize he was holding it.

The way he blinked, slow and stunned—like he felt the crack before he could make sense of it.

“I just think—” you sigh, sharper than you mean to be, your arms folding across yourself, “I don’t know—maybe you shouldn’t assume things about how I feel.”

Jake’s brows knit together, his voice low but steady, “I’m not assuming anything, Y/N. I’m asking. You won’t talk to me, and I’m—I just…I’m trying to figure out where your head’s at.”

You turn away.

Try to blink it back—the tightness rising in your chest. The frustration.

You don’t even know why you’re upset.

At him? At yourself?

“Well maybe my head’s a mess right now,” you say, a bubble rising to your throat. “And I don’t need you trying to fix it.”

There’s a pause.

A shift in the air.

Jake lets out a soft breath. Barely audible.

But you hear it.

And you see it, too—the subtle way his expression drops.

And god, it hurts.

“Okay.” He nods slowly, his voice suddenly quieter, barely above a whisper. “So what do you need, then?”

You hesitate.

Because that’s just the thing. You don’t know.

Because it’s not him. Never him.

It’s not the quiet car ride home. Or the under-cooked steak at the restaurant. Or the stupid thing he said about maybe meeting his parents next month.

It’s you.

It’s everything else.

The pressure. The doubt. The sinking feeling in your chest that you don’t deserve something this good. Something as good as him.

“I think…” you start, your eyes meeting his, swallowing hard. “I think I need space.”

And it’s like you ripped the floor out from right under him.

You watch the words hit him.

Watch how he stumbles without even moving.

His eyes flick to yours like he misheard. His breath catches like you knocked the wind out of him.

His fingers tremble at his sides, helpless and twitching, like he doesn’t know what to hold on to anymore.

He exhales a shaky breath and—

“No.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I’m not giving you space.” His voice cracks. Barely holding it together. “Not like this. Not when I don’t even know what I did—”

“You didn’t do anything, Jake—”

“Then I’m staying.”

His voice breaks again. And when you look at him again—his eyes are glassy. His voice trembles in a way that shatters your heart more than you’ve ever known before.

And before you know it—

Jake crosses the living room and closes the distance between you two—like he’s trying to reach the part of you that’s slipping through his fingers.

And when he’s right in front of you, he stops.

Just looks at you.

Like you’re the only thing he sees. Like he’s begging you to see him too.

“Let me stay,” his voice unsteady, more desperate now. “Please.”

Your throat closes.

“You’re shutting me out again and I can feel it and I know I’m not perfect, but—God, Y/N—I love you.”

A breath. A blink. A beat.

“I’m trying. I’m here,” Jake continues, his eyes pleading. Breaking. “Please don’t push me away when I’m trying to stay.”

You stare at him.

And you hate it.

You hate how much he means it.

How sincere he sounds—how shattered he looks.

How his hands are clenched at his sides like he’s holding himself back from reaching for you, like he’s not sure he can.

And you hate that you’re the one making him feel that way.

Like love has limits.

Like maybe even he isn’t allowed to cross the invisible line you drew without even realizing it.

Because deep down—

You’re terrified.

Terrified that one day he’ll just say okay and walk out.

That he’ll stop trying. Stop fighting.

That your worst fear will come true: that you are too much. That you’re not worth all this effort.

“Jake…I’m scared,” you whisper—and it breaks.

The dam. The silence. You.

“I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth this,” you choke, your own vision blurring. “That I’m just—too much. Or not enough. Or both.”

Jake’s face crumbles.

Completely.

“Y/N.”

You shake your head, blinking fast—it’s all spilling now, messy and unfiltered and real.

“You could have anyone. You could find someone easier. Someone who doesn’t blow up over nothing or pull away every time it gets hard or—”

“Don’t.”

The sudden edge in his voice stops you—not sharp, but urgent.

Urgent, wrecked, and aching.

“Don’t you dare try to write me out of this story when I already know how it ends. Like I haven’t already chosen you.”

He takes a step forward.

“I don’t want easy. I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Another step.

“Even when it’s messy. Even when you’re mad. Even when it’s hard.”

And before you can stop him, Jake’s hands cup your face—gentle, steady—like you’re something fragile and priceless at the same time.

“This is still you,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. “And I still love you.”

Your lip quivers.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek—and only then do you realize you’re crying.

A broken breath escapes your lips.

“…I’m sorry,” you choke out, the tears falling out faster now—completely open and raw.

Jake lets out a small, breathy, almost sad laugh.

“Me too.”

And god.

You think that might’ve been the moment you fell completely, absolutely, irreversibly in love with him.

In a way you can’t describe.

In a way that sits in your chest and says this is it—even if you don’t know how to say it out loud yet.

So for now—

“Please stay.”

Jake smiles. It’s small. But so full of relief.

“Always, pretty.”

And he does.

Jake stays through the silence. Through the ache.

Through the heavy nights and the mornings when it’s better.

Because real love doesn’t run.

It reaches. And it stays.

Even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

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[ravenclaws-stuff]

James Potter x Reader

Summary: Five separate fights you have with James Potter.

Tags: time skips, James and Sirius are a dick at first, kissing, unwanted kiss, reader is wildly talented

A/n: Guess who forgot she was supposed to rewrite this until last night. If you guessed, this bitch. Then you are correct. You win a James Potter story. (find below) If you guess wrong, then you also get a James Potter story.

Five Fights of Potter

First Year

Cauldrons bubble as Professor Slughorn droned on about the newest discoveries in potions. You try to focus, you really did. But the two meddlesome boys behind you would not shut up.

James Potter and Sirius Black. Been trouble since they became friends on the train.

You shake your head, turning your ladle counter clockwise just like the recipe calls for. Just ignore them and everything will be fine.

At least so you thought until one of them gasped, causing you to turn around.

Your eyes widen as their potion bubbled violently before exploding. You groan, taking a step back, bumping into your potion station, an intense burning sensation pulses throughout your whole right arm.

“Shouldn’t have stood so close.” Black says offhandedly as Slughorn rushes over to your station.

“Oh dear. That looks like quite nasty.” He looks around the room, stopping on the messy hair culprit. “Potter, please take Mrs L/n to the infirmary. Mr Black, clean up this mess.”

Black groans, complaining how it wasn’t fair as Potter grabbed both of your bags. “Lets go.” You hiss, walking towards the infirmary. “L/n, wait!” James calls, grabbing your shoulder. The same shoulder connected to your charred arm.

“I don’t need your help.” You hiss, shoving his hand off of you. Potter throws his hands into the air, glaring at you. “Well too bad. Slughorn told me to walk you and that’s exactly what I am going to do.”

You quicken your pace. The quicker you get to the hospital wing, the quicker Potter leaves you alone.

You wince, the pains from the burn only seems to increase the longer it goes untreated. James catching your expression frowns.

“L/n, slow down.” Potter groans, grabbing your wrist. You hiss, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes.

“L/n?” He whispers, finally noticing how much pain you were in. The guilt ate at him, knowing it was his fault. He wasn’t paying attention to what old Sluggy was saying and now you were hurt.

“Just leave me alone Potter.” You reach over, grabbing your bag off of his shoulder. “Please.” You beg, before leaving a stunned James Potter standing frozen in the hallway.

“Stupid Potter and Stupid Black. Can’t even make a bloody potion properly.”

Third Year

You have to hurry. Lily is currently waiting for you in the library as you were supposed to meet there ten minutes ago. At the beginning of term, you both agreed to get a head start on your end of year projects.

For Muggle studies, you were assigned to write an essay on which Muggle creation would be the most useful for the wizarding world to use. Personally, you believe electricity would be the most beneficial. No more candles laying around the house or having to use your wand.

Turning the corner, you groan as you collide into a group of four boys. Your books clatter against the stone floor. You drop to your knees, quickly picking up your book.

“Seriously duckie, can't even take your head out of the books long enough to watch where you are going.”

Your shoulders tense, trying to ignore the cruel voice. ‘I do not have time for this.’ Looking up, you shoot a glare at the four boys before you.

Peter Pettigrew. Remus Lupin.

Sirius Black. James Potter.

Pettigrew glances between his friends, shackles up as he prepares for fight. Lupin sends a apologetic smile but makes no move to help. Black stands there, leaning against the wall with a wicked grin. He never knows when to shut up. Finally the last of the quartet, Potter stands directly in front of you. His dark brown eyes shine through his glasses with mischief and anger.

“Seriously you should have been sorted into the bird's nest.” Your glare sharpens as you stand up with your books in hand.

Over the past three years, Potter has always speculated I was sorted in the wrong house. Calls me an ugly duckling, searching for my “real” house.

“Shut it Potter.” You hiss. Potter takes a step forward. “Make me, duckie.” your wand appears in your hand, digging into his chest. His eyes widen, slightly alarmed. “Do not test me. I am not in the mood to deal with you. Not today.”

Deciding to push his luck, Potter steps forward, shoving your wand to your side. “You won't do anything. Sure you can read but we both know, you don't have the skill….”

James falls silent as the rest of his so called friends snicker behind him. “What?” He spins around, searching from answers from his friends but receives no help. He turns again, freezing as he spots his reflection in the a window. A brand new reflection. A small brown tail, resembling one of the Muggle films you watched in class.

“What? How?” He sputters. “Nonverbal spell?” Lupin asks, clearly impressed. With a roll of your eyes, you scoff at the tall Gryffindor. “Don't act so surprised Lupin.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Didn’t know you could.” You glare at the boy. “My apologies Lupin. Should I have informed you of my talent.” You send an icy glare to each of the boys. “You lot only care about yourself.” Turning to Potter, you push down the pride at his frozen state. “Do not underestimate me again Potter.”

With that, you storm off. You look down at your watch, sighing at the time. Lily is going to kill you.

“Mate, you look like a deer in headlights.” Remus taunts, pulling James out of his frozen state. “Oh shut up and help me get rid of this damn tail.”

Fifth Year

The cold air does nothing to calm the burning anger boiling inside of you. Today was supposed to be a fun day. A fresh blanket of snow covered Hogsmeade the night before. You were supposed to be inside of the The Three Broomsticks, on a date with Gideon Prewett. The seventh year asked you on a date. An actual date. One you gladly accepted.

Did you have feelings for him? No but you were certain you would develop them eventually. Gideon was the perfect date. Offered you his arm, even bought you a book.

The bell rings, signalling another customer walker in. Your eyes dart, frown as you meet the brown eyes of James Potter. His flicker between you and Gideon. Without paying him any mind, you turn your attention back to Gideon as he spoke about his younger sister, Molly. You try to recall the younger girl who was sorted into your house earlier this year.

A hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from your table. “Let go of me, Potter!” You demand. He ignores you, pulling you into the cold outside.

“What is your problem?” Potter lets go of your hand, shoving his own into his pockets. “Are you on a date with Prewett?” You take a step back, the cold wall seeping pressing into you. “What?”

Taking a step closer, his voice rumbles in the air between us. “Are you a date with Gideon Prewett?”

Were you hearing this correctly? Surely not. Surely the cold is affecting your brain in some way and you are currently hallucinating.

“So what if I am? What's it to you?” James looks around main street as people push past. “Are you?” Sighing, you nod. “Yes.” His brown eyes shoot to yours, something brewing behind those glasses. “Do you like him?” You nod. James shakes his head. “No say it.”

You look down, propping your door up onto the wall as if this was a casual conversation between friends. Yet you weren't friends and the look in his eyes were too heated for it to be casual. “I enjoy being around him. He's charming and hilarious. Probably one of the kindest people in this entire castle. But I am not sure I will have feelings for him in that way.” You whisper, unsure why you are sharing this with Potter.

James reaches out, interlacing your fingers between his. You look up, eyes wide with surprise. “P-potter?” He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. His lips soft but the kiss rough, filled with hidden desire. “Don’t go back in there. Don’t go back in there to him.”

With a sharp tug, you step to the side. “No.” He frowns, glasses sliding down his nose. “No?” You shake your head, pulling your jumper tighter. “No. You don’t get to pull me from my date, kiss me without my permission, and expect me to say yes. If you want to go on a date with me, try being a Gryffindor you claim to be and actually ask.” Tears burn in the corner of your eyes as you walk away. “L/n wait!” You shake your head, wiping the tears. “Goodbye Potter.”

Seventh Year

“Love.” You ignore your boyfriend, trying to focus on your essay. You already knew what he wanted to ask. It was the same question he has asked three times just today alone. “Love.” Jams whines. A sigh falls from your lips as you place your quill onto the table. James reaches over, curling your hair around his finger. “Leave my hair alone Potter.” He chuckles, tugging on the strand of your hair wrapped around his finger. “Why is it whenever you are cross with me, you always resort to calling me Potter?”

The soft smile on his face cools your annoyance despite you wanting to be cross with him. “Maybe you should take the hint.”

James rolls his eyes as he leans into your personal space. “C'mon love. Give me one reason you won't meet my parents.” His nose brushes against your cheek. “Give me one real reason and I will drop it.”

You smile, knowing he was lying. At most, he would drop it for at least the rest of the day. But he will ask again, starting tomorrow. James is the most meddlesome wizard you have ever met.

“Jamie. We just started dating. I want to enjoy us,” you say, squeezing his hand. “just a bit longer. Just a bit longer without the expectations.” A frown pulls on those beautiful lips of his. “Expectations?” You nod, looking away, eyes watching as students walk across the library. “What if I meet your parents and they hate me? Or worse they like me but we break up.”

James gently grabs your chin, tilting your head. “Love please look at me.” You shake your head, keeping your eyes down. “Please.” You look up, his brown eyes. “I can promise neither of those will happen. My parents will absolutely love you and I do not play on letting you go anytime soon. I have loved you since fifth year.”

You gasp, your hand covers his. “Love? Y-you love me?” He nods, a blinding smile adorned on his face. “Of course I am in love you. Have been ever since you punch Crouch in fifth year. You have one of the sexiest right hooks I have ever witnessed.”

You giggle, letting your head fall onto his chest. “You really love me.” You whisper, voice full of disbelief. “With all my magic.”

You pull away, leaving just enough room to look at him but still feel his warm breath on your face. “I love you too.” Your hand slides up his arm, running through his hair. Pulling him down, meeting him partway as you lips brush against his.

You turn back to your parchment with a everlasting smile. “Love?” James pulls you away from your essay. You sigh, accepting you won't be able to finish your essay with your boyfriend by your side. “Jamie?” He pulls the end of your hair, similar how he did just moments ago. “Meet my mum and dad.” You smile, kissing his cheek. “Yes Jamie.”

Ten Years Later

“Daddy higher!” You drop you book, dread racing through your veins as you rush out the back door. Only to find your five year old daughter flying around the backyard.

“James Fleamont Potter!” Like two bandits caught, your daughter and husband freeze at the sound of your voice. “Uh oh.” Aurora whispers, looking at her dad for help. “Looks like we got caught, baby girl.” James helps Aurora dismount off the broom, flashing a hesitant smile your way.

“Mummy?” You smile at your daughter, scooping her into your arms. “I'm not mad at you, little love. But can you run inside so I can talk to Daddy?” She looks over to James, whining as James nods. “Sorry mummy.”

“Love please just let me explain.” James wraps his arms around your waist, thumbs brushing under your shirt. You glare at your husband, unamused. “Don't *love* me. We agreed we would wait until she was seven.” James quickly nods, kissing the tip of your nose.

“I know we did, but we both know I can't say no to her. She's got your eyes.” Just as the bubbling lot of anger started to simmer down, your husband opens his mouth. “So technically this is your fault.”

You take a step back, his arms returning to his side. “Excuse me?” James pales, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Shit. That's not what I meant.” He takes a step forward but you shake your head, taking a step back. “I promise she is safe. Not only am I right here at all times, but I have cushioning charms placed under her as well.”

You sigh, looking inside the house, hearing your daughter laugh at something. Most likely her Uncle Pads on a floo call. “You promise she's safe?” His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you into his chest. “I swear it on my magic.”

Later that night:

“I think she has a future as a chaser.” James falls from the bathroom. You groan, dropping your hairbrush into your vanity. An auror for a husband and apparently a quidditch player for a daughter. “I swear you Potters live t stress me out.”

[azullumi]

"once more to see you" ; aventurine

summary — to him, love was like a religion waiting to be discovered and he’ll find god in the way the sun looks on your skin; alternatively, aventurine thinks he’s rotten work and tiring to take care of but not to you, not if it's him (please get the reference).

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship (but aventurine wants to de-establish it), somewhat fluff, slight angst with comfort, never proofread never what?!!, 1.3k ; ficlet

note — 2.1 broke me (the whole quest knocked at the door of my house, shook my hands, congratulated me, and invited itself into my home before pouring water on my face, slapping me, throwing me around, and left with the door open, all the while, my family watched). this is day 1 of writing for aventurine until i have him.

“you have a lot of moles.” his voice, despite a gentle whisper, tears through the silence of the night like a drop of water that ruptured and disturbed the surface of the pond. “especially here.” he gently taps on your skin; they seem like stars, he swallows the words back down. 

you feel aventurine’s finger trace on the back of your neck and the curve of your shoulders, seemingly drawing—or connecting something. it was ticklish, the way he gently drags his hand and ghosts over your skin, a soft laugh slipping past your lips (you’ll capture his touch on your skin as if you were a sinner remembering how forgiveness tasted on your lips). there was something intimate that lingers in the air between you two as you lay in his bed with him, a fleeting moment that will be inked into your mind. 

(the both of you leave your titles behind, mixed together with the scattered objects on the floor, laid on the cold ground to be picked up and worn later like a shiny medal even if you weren’t proud to have them.)

“they say it’s where your lover kissed you the most in your past life.” you stir in your position as you speak, coming to face him and meet his pretty jewel-like eyes—how alluring it was, painted with vivid colors yet it never shines. the sound of mirth laughter bubbles from his throat, a pleasant melody to your ears.

he asks, curiosity tracing the tone of his voice, “and from where did you even hear that?” and you shrug, bringing your form closer to him as you seek for more warmth, “i can’t recall. perhaps i heard it from topaz or maybe from one of the members of the ipc? they’re the only ones i often see and talk to.”

“the doctor?” he wraps his arm around your figure, his hand settling on the small of your back.

“that man will only scorn at that idea and call it stupid. he’ll most likely say that ‘only fools would believe such concepts.’” you mimic the way the esteemed doctor spoke, from the serious expression that he always don on his face to the deepening of his voice. your seemingly successful imitation earned a chuckle from the blonde-haired man before you.

“i’m sure he will.”

silence falls between you two and you took this time to adore each and every line of his being. a few strands of hair fall over his eyes—beautiful, captivating, mesmerizing, you could list out every word to describe his eyes but it would never be enough. you had always wondered why he would hide it until you witnessed the reason why he does so. 

aventurine seems to study your expression at the same also, a soft look on his face as he did, and you can’t help but be curious. “what are you thinking about?” you ask him, breaking the silence that nurtured itself in the space between you and him.

you, he wishes to answer. how you look at this moment in his embrace: you were wearing one of his shirts, albeit, not exactly to your size but you insisted, saying that you liked it as it smelled like him. how gentle, loving, adoring, you were everything; he looks and thinks of you as if you were his everything (he doesn’t deserve you). but he doesn’t say it—the thought weighs too heavily on his mind, claws at his throat, and suffocates him—, instead he utters something entirely different that creates a shift in the air between you two. 

“i don’t think i can do this.” he turns his head to look away from you, staring at the ceiling instead. it seems to extend itself far and far away from him.

the horrible part of being human is the tendency for destruction that lies in your bones. stained palms, calloused pads, despite the gentleness of your touch and the comfort of your caress. the desire to devour flesh and bones, to understand the underlying thoughts and meanings behind words and unexpressed feelings by consuming them. to submerge and drown in the depths of one's despair and desire (too close that the line blurs into one). the horrible part of being him was his tendency to destroy—hesitation and doubt lies in his being and aches at his chest, tugging on his heart’s strings, and settles on his throat—, it’s not like he doesn’t want to hold you, it’s just that he can’t.

“do what?”

“this.” you know exactly what he was referring to, know what he’s afraid of. he has laid himself bare and vulnerable in front of you countless of times that you have memorized the constellations that adorns his skin. you know him, you have known him enough to recognize the fear that tugs on his voice and see the walls that he tries to build up in front of you. you know him enough to know what thoughts are plaguing his mind.

“why do you think so?”

“don’t you think i’m too much to take care of?” he tries not to choke on his words and bite his tongue, careful not to let his voice crack lest he crumbles underneath your caress. i am undeserving of it. worthless. failure. selfish. discarded. coward. loser. nothing. you are bound to leave. 

“not for me.” you caress his cheek and guide him to look at you—instead of the ceiling that seems to appear farther than it originally was in each passing second as the walls glean over him like a shadow—, to meet your gaze and see the sincerity that lurks deep within. “never will i get tired of you. so, let me carry your burden.”

he takes a few seconds to answer, uncertainty lingering in his tone: “it’s not yours to have.”

“it may not be.” you answer with no hesitation, “but it doesn’t mean that you must shoulder them alone.”

he opens his mouth to speak but unable to find the words to say, he closes them. there was a moment of stillness shared between you two. comfort, relief, assurance seeps into the ache of his bones and you say something too heavy even for this steady and silent night to hold, the words too much to be held—light spills in like a flood as if it was pouring out from the sun itself.

“i love you.”

“you utter such words as if it’s something easy for you.” as if loving him was just as simple as waking up in the morning and adoring the way the honey-light hugs your form as the dust settles in the corner of your room. when he’s stripped of everything and left with nothing, would you still love him the same? would you still kiss him as gently as you did? would you still hold the shards of his form even if it makes your hand bleed? 

you spoke in a gentle yet firm croon, gaze unwavering, “because it is.”

you see the falter in his expression: his face, that once was crumpled, relaxed and so did his gaze soften. and you smile at him with only adoration in your eyes—like a devout follower to a divine being. “are you still afraid?”

“i don’t know.” he whispers.

“it’s alright. you have all the time in the world.” your hand weaves itself into his own, fingers lacing with one another, and you gently squeeze. it was a form of reassurance, a way of telling him that you’re here with him through all of it.

the warmth has settled in your being and you spill yourself into the cracks of his vulnerability. “i love you.” you say once more and you kiss the mark on his neck—lingering and soft as if you wish that it would take all his hurt away. the way he shudders underneath your touch, the hitch of his breath soon followed by a gentle sigh as he cradles you closer to him tells you everything that you wish to hear.

for once, he sleeps as if he had nothing to carry, nothing that shackles him to the stars that forsakes him.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[spicyspiders]

with different eyes and no shame

Mark Grayson variant x male reader smut

3.8k words

Stay inside, the text from Mark said.

This had a lot more angst than I expected to write. Warning for smut, bottom male reader, slight bloodplay, slight cum inflation, and the Mark variant being overall rough with the reader. I didn't really have a variant in mind when I was writing this, so any could be thought of when reading :)

Stay inside

The text was only two words, but still managed to send a chill down your spine. An hour later when nothing has happened, you can feel your body slowly relax. Still, you can’t help but look out your window one last time to make sure whatever Mark wanted you to stay inside and avoid has passed. 

A part of you felt hysterical as you looked out the window. You weren’t sure if being friends with a superhero and everything that came with that was now catching up with you, or if it was from your brain trying to focus on everything your eyes outside were trying to track. 

You hear the sound of a thump in your bedroom, signaling that Mark is here. It was a habit he developed over time you thought was silly, reminding you so much of when you were younger. You hoped Mark would grow out of it, but maybe it was a superhero rule he had that he could only fly through windows when entering homes. 

“I have a front door, you know,” you say, swinging your bedroom door open. The sun had gone down by the time Mark had texted and you managed to calm down, making the walk to your bedroom dark, and the state of your bedroom wasn’t any better. 

Mark almost looked ominous standing in what little light was left from the day, his back facing the window. Your first clue should have been the color of his suit, but you were too stupid to realize. 

“Mark?” You asked, “is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” He questioned back with a chuckle.

“You told me to stay inside,” you answered in confusion, “and is that a new suit?” You asked as Mark slowly turned around, your eyes glued to his seemingly new suit, “did something happen to the one you just got?”

“You worry too much,” Mark responded, still shrouded in the shadows. He stepped out of the darkness slowly, making it known that this wasn’t your Mark, “you both did,” he said, his voice low. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, growing faster and faster as Mark came closer, “who are you?” You whispered, backing up slowly. 

“I’m Mark,” he responds with a smile. 

You continue inching backward, shaking your head, “who are you?” You repeat, your back coming into contact with your wall. 

Mark’s smile turns sinister, “I’m Mark,” he says again, “and I already know what you’re thinking, and yes, I’m not your Mark,” he backs you further into the wall, making you hope that you would somehow fall through. But if this Mark was anything like yours, he’d easily be able to follow. “I also know that you’re thinking about running,” he lets out a laugh before he continues, “but I’ll break your fucking legs if you try.”

“Please,” you whisper, turning your face away when Mark’s hands reach out, “don’t hurt me,” you say, closing your hands when you feel his fingers on your face. 

“I’d never hurt you,” Mark says, forcefully turning your head to face him. 

After moments of tense silence, you open your eyes slowly to look at Mark, his gaze fixed upon you with an unreadable expression. 

“I’d never hurt you,” he repeats, “I finally have you again,” he says, his tone matching his soft words, but it doesn’t last. “I won’t lose you,” he growls, his voice dark and full of promise. And with those words, he seals that promise with a kiss. 

You weren’t even sure if kiss was the right word to call it, it felt like Mark– this version of Mark was trying to devour you whole. Though he looked and sounded like Mark, you knew this version wasn’t yours, but that didn’t stop the overwhelming rush of emotions. 

There was a longing for Mark that had gotten to the point where you didn’t remember when it started, and had gone on for so long, that you didn’t know if it would ever. You had just managed to somehow get it to the point that you were happy. 

You loved Mark, and Eve nearly as long as you’d known her, so you wanted them to be happy. There were moments where it could feel bittersweet not only to see the man you had feelings for get with someone else, but to see that other person be someone you also cared about. There were also moments though, ones that had come up much more frequently where you felt hopeful. Hopeful that you were moving on, and hopeful for the future. 

You just didn’t think that who you would be moving on with would be another version of who you originally fell for. If moving on was even what you could call it, you weren’t sure if the phrase could be used in situations where it was being forced onto you. 

Though you knew this one wasn’t your Mark, your treacherous body still responded like it was. You shuddered at the feel of Mark's tongue pushing its way past your lips, an idea popping into your brain when in his conquest to dominate your mouth, it ran over your teeth. You squash the idea of biting Mark’s tongue seconds after it’s hatched, the image of him doing more than breaking your legs like he promised if you tried to run flashing through your mind.

Tears fall from your eyes when Mark finally pulls away, his eyes opening to then quickly filling with concern. You had spent what felt like hours, maybe even days imagining what your first kiss with Mark would be like, and in moments where you were thinking with your dick and not your brain, it would think of what kisses would be like that were filled with more passion and energy. And though your body was already responding to just the one kiss, the rational part of you was still there to remind you that this wasn’t your Mark.

“It’s okay,” Mark whispered, wiping your tears away, and then kissing up the tracks they left. “I have you,” he said, resting his cheek against yours, the words sounding like he wasn’t just saying them to you, but saying them to himself like he hadn’t quite come to the realization. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, your eyes slipping shut, thinking that if you closed your eyes to it, it would be easier to ignore, “what happened to the me from your universe?” You forced your eyes open, waiting for Mark to respond. 

Mark’s face goes stormy and full of emotion before he breaks eye contact, “gone,” he says, his eyes flicking back up. He steps closer, his hands moving down to your shoulders, “taken from me before I realized how I felt,” he said before he pulled your body into his chest in a tight embrace, “I won’t let that happen again.”

You have to force yourself to breathe, trying to calm your racing heart. What takes longer is getting your arms to move. A part of you thinks that if you just give in and give this Mark what he wants, then he’ll leave, but another part of you, bigger than you wanted to admit, responded to the fact that this was probably the closest to getting something you always wanted. 

You wrap your arms slowly around Mark, trying to not feel the way your heart broke at the small, wounded noise Mark made. You hated the way you could relate to this Mark, knowing that you could find comfort in each other based on the things you lost and couldn’t have. 

Mark pulls you closer, his head going into the space between your neck and shoulder. His nose went beneath the collar of your shirt as he nuzzled the skin he could find. His hands ran up and down your back as his lips came into contact with your skin, much softer than you expected. 

You shiver at the feel of his lips on your skin, your body seemingly moving on its own to give Mark more room as you let your head fall back onto the wall. You gasp when his lips kiss softly up your neck and along your jaw, your eyes opening once more when you feel the puff of Mark’s breath on your face. 

As Mark’s face slowly inches closer, his eyes flick between yours and your lips. The kiss he pressed to your lips was the complete opposite of the last, but you’re still slow to respond. Once you do, Mark’s hands are on your face to angle the kiss into how he wants it. 

Mark’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip, asking for entrance. It pushes in slowly when you open up seconds later, and this time, you both let out noises of pleasure when his tongue brushes against yours. 

Mark lets you pull away from the kiss, his head falling onto your shoulder as you gasp for air. He runs his hands back down your body, going lower than you expect them to when they grab your lower thighs. 

He hoists you up, your legs going to wrap around his waist as you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“I have you,” Mark says, his voice light, almost teasingly so. And if this Mark had powers that were anything like your Mark’s, he was completely right. No, you’ve never been flying like William had to know if Mark was able to hold you, but you had seen Mark on the news using his powers, so you had no doubt in your mind that he was able to lift you. 

“C’mon!” William had said in the parking lot to the restaurant you had dinner at on your last birthday, “it’s his birthday! You’ve got to take him flying!”

“I don’t want to go flying,” you said to William, “and besides,” you said with a laugh, “I don’t need you asking for me,” you said with another laugh as William pouted. 

“Then can you ask him to take me flying?” William asked, you and Mark looking at each other. 

“Why would Mark take you flying for his birthday?” Eve asked between laughter. 

“Because,” William started, his face going red as he tried to think of a response, and once he did, his eyes lit up, “he told me that for his birthday he wanted Mark to take me flying,” he finished, crossing his arms.

“Did you,” Eve asked, elbowing you softly. 

“Yeah,” Mark chimed in, “did you?” He asked as he rolled his eyes.

You looked between the three of them, Eve smiling at you, Mark looking unimpressed, and William staring at you with both brows raised as he nodded. “Oh yeah! I did forget that I promised William that I would ask.”

Eve nearly doubled over with laughter, his face nearly going as bright as her hair as Mark swooped William up. 

“Where are they going?” Amber asked after she walked up, to-go cup in hand. 

It was like this Mark was able to read your mind to know yours had never taken you flying as he floats you the few feet to your bed. You weren’t sure if it counted, but your arms and legs still tightened around him nonetheless.

You landed softly onto the bed, Mark murmuring a soft I’ve got you before his lips were against yours once again. Your legs loosened around Mark, and even as he let out a noise of protest, your feet came to rest on the bed. 

Your arms loosened just enough to get one of your hands in Mark’s hair, which was just as soft as you imagined your Mark’s would be. You moaned into Mark’s mouth when he rocked his hips down into yours, your fingers tightening around the strands between your fingers. 

Mark pulled away with a growl before he started wrestling his suit off. You had fantasized about this moment more times than you could count after you found out Mark was Invincible. If you were honest, since before then, too. There was just something about skin-tight costumes that got you going. Most of them, of course, being you helping him out of his suit, but now, with how fervently he was going at it, you kept your hands to yourself. 

It was almost funny watching him get the top portion off, but you could blame that on the hysterical feeling of this situation feeling as unreal as it did. 

You had seen Mark shirtless only a few times before, but this was completely different from the shy glances you managed to peek at. 

Mark gave you no choice but to touch his body as he ducked back down into another kiss, your fingers meeting hot skin. There was something dark and powerful underneath Mark’s skin, something that felt so much more different from the other men you’d had in your bed. 

You ran your hands up his body, starting from his abs to his upper chest, Mark letting out a soft groan when your hands brushed his nipples. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he growled after he pulled away from the kiss. Ducking back down, he instead went lower to get his mouth against your neck. 

I think I have an idea, you opened your mouth to say, but all that came out was a moan when Mark’s teeth sank into your skin. The sound only spurs Mark on as he moves to another spot to leave a trace. 

“Mark,” you hiss, unable to contain the next noise you let out as Mark’s teeth sink in deep, breaking the skin.

Mark moans around the skin between his teeth, his tongue running over the skin seconds later. As he laps at the skin, Mark rolls his hips into yours, outright humping you. He pulls back from your neck, meeting your eye as he licks his lips. 

You tremble under the dark look he fixes you with, watching as he gets off the bed to get the bottom of his suit down, “take that off,” he commands, “unless you want me to tear it off,” he smirks as he continues on, “I’m fine with either one.”

“Good boy,” he murmurs as you start pulling your clothes off. Once you are fully naked and your clothes are in a pile beside the bed, Mark steps back up to the bed. “Let me look at you,” he says, wrapping a hand around his cock. 

You watch the almost hypnotic motion of Mark slowly stroking his cock, licking your lips when you see a pearly bead of precum fall from the head and down onto your floor. You feel your cock give a twitch of interest as it grows hard between your spread legs. 

You look back up to Mark watching you, and you quickly look away, knowing you’ve been caught. The look on his face didn’t look angry, though, it was smug and full of heat. “You can look,” he says, “it’s all yours.”

Your head snaps up at the declaration, your cock giving another twitch. Your throat suddenly feels dry when you try and swallow, “does that mean I’m yours?” You croak, your gaze falling from Mark. 

Mark lets out a proud laugh, and when you look back up at the sound, you’re met with a faceful of cock. Strong fingers move under your chin to tilt your head up so you meet his eye, “you’ve been mine since I found out you were here, sweetheart,” he says, “now,” he lets go of your face to look around, “where’s your lube?”

You roll over to crawl up the bed, reaching out to grab the handle of your nightstand. Mark chooses the moment you’re balanced on one hand to lay a smack to your ass, catching you off guard. 

You’re proud of yourself for not falling face-first into your comforter, and pause from digging through your drawer to turn and glare at Mark. 

“Sorry,” he says, his arms crossed over his chest, not looking or sounding sorry at all, “couldn’t help it.”

You toss the lube in Mark’s general direction and try your best not to slam the drawer closed. You laid your head down on your pillows, biting your lip as you most certainly weren’t waiting for Mark to spank you again. 

Instead, Mark runs his hands slowly over the globes of your ass, “I mean,” he says as he lifts your hips and gets you onto your knees. “Can you blame me?” He asks as he spreads you open. 

He catches you off guard once more as he dives in, licking a broad over your hole. The shock of it punches a sound of surprise from your open mouth as your cock throbs between your legs. 

Mark lays a few more broad strokes, occasionally licking over your balls and taint on the way to your hole. You groan when he zeros in, licking over your hole until it’s relaxed enough that his tongue can lick inside.

You moan into your pillow as Mark fucks his tongue inside, his tongue coating your walls with his spit. Mark answers with a moan of his own, the vibration going straight to your now hard cock. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” Mark says as he pulls back, but not before smacking your ass one last time. He bites into the other untouched cheek, his hands coming to grip your hips in an iron-tight grasp. You whimper into the pillow, having no choice but to let Mark bite you. 

With a kiss pressed to the spot, Mark finally pulls back. You’re left with an aching spot that you were sure was going to look like the one he made earlier on your neck. 

The sound of the lube opening is loud in your ears before it goes quiet once more. Though you were anticipating it, you still jump when the pad of Mark’s lubed fingers runs over your hole. What you always thought would be slow and soft was instead fast and hard, giving you no room to breathe as two of Mark’s fingers sank inside. 

You hissed around the burn deep inside, but of course, Mark gave you no time to focus on that either as his fingers found your prostate. 

“There we go,” he said, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could hear how smug he sounded, “gonna break my fingers, baby,” he said, already adding a third finger. “So fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he pushes his fingers deep. 

Feeling full already, it’s hard to imagine how his cock was going to feel, but when after a few moments Mark pulled his fingers free, you knew you needed what little time you had to mentally prepare.

Vulgarly, Mark smacks the head of his cock against your stretched hole. You gasp when Mark grabs your ass in his hands, his fingers digging into the bruise he left on one of your cheeks. He takes the time to continue teasing you, this time by squeezing your ass cheeks together and fucking his cock between the tight space. 

You turn your head to look back at Mark, “the condom,” you said, whimpering through the pain as Mark squeezed the globes of your ass tighter. 

Mark leaned down to lay his body along your back, “thanks for reminding me to throw those away,” he whispered into your ear, feeling his smile on the shell of your ear, “you won’t be needing those anymore,” he said darkly. 

With that statement, Mark brought his hips up and pressed the head of his slick cock to your hole. In one steady thrust, Mark bottoms out. His hands lock around your hips, keeping your body tightly pressed to his as his moans of pleasure go from his chest and vibrate through your back. 

You turn your head back into the pillow to muffle the sound you made, unknown to your ears whether it was of pleasure or pain. You clench down around the intrusion, the burn of it lighting up your entire body. 

You gasp into the pillow, making it hard to respond to the kiss Mark initiates. You weren’t all too sure about the other half that Mark was, but if the way this Mark kissed you taught you anything, it was that he didn’t need to breathe in the same way did. 

Maybe it will get better over time. The thought made your cock twitch thinking about already going at it again when the round you were in now hadn’t even really begun. 

Mark didn’t seem to mind though as he licked inside your mouth. On his tongue, you tasted the slight remnants of musk, lighting up your tastebuds. Mark pulled back at the same time as his hips did, his head falling onto your shoulder on the thrust back in. 

The only space Mark left between your bodies was just enough for him to fuck in and out of your body, your hole soon becoming accustomed to his cock. There was no question as to if your moans were of pleasure or pain minutes later as Mark’s cock rammed into your prostate on each thrust in. 

There was no time to chase the pleasure as it left when Mark pulled out, because it was there again and again, shooting sparks across your body. It was building to the end that you quickly felt approaching, feeling as if you weren’t going there, but instead, it was forcing its way to you. 

You reached between your legs to wrap your hand around your leaky cock, “that’s it, baby,” Mark said, his lips dragging along your shoulder as he spoke. His pace going too fast to try and match, you stroked your cock to your own messy pace, only taking a few pulls for your body to seize up as you came. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head, the pleasure too intense for your body to seemingly handle before blacking out. You came to on your side, Mark’s body spooned against yours. 

“Relax,” he hissed, and if he was trying to help, his arms tightening around your body sure didn’t assist as he held you in a nearly too-tight embrace. “That’s it,” he murmured as he felt your body relax.   

Mark’s cock still buried inside you, you clenched down around his cock, your own giving a pathetic throb of interest. “How’re you still,” you began to ask, but when Mark’s cock brushed your prostate, you gasped. 

“It takes a little while,” he said, pressing his smile into the back of your neck, “can you feel it?” He asked as he ran his hand across your stomach. 

You shivered as Mark ran his hand over your stomach. You felt full, but not uncomfortably so. 

“Is this what it’s always going to be like?” You asked, grimacing as you felt his cum slip free past Mark’s still-hard cock. 

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” he said as he kissed along the back of your neck, but something told you he already knew the answer. 

[acoazlove]

A New Place | part two

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Months after a horrible birthday, you’re happy with new friends, but soon you’ll find out that you have to face your family once again.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

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It’s been three months and they haven’t come to see you. Not a single one of them. So either they don’t care and haven’t looked for you, or they just can’t find you. However, that’s a stupid thought because they could send Azriel, he is the spymaster after all.

You have to keep telling yourself you don’t care because it's easier that way. Thinking about it for too long would cause you to spiral. One that you’re not sure you could get out of.

On the bright side of all of this, you’ve made friends with your coworkers, and know a few regulars by name.

Benny has been the most helpful through it all. Was there even when you were being stubborn and trying to pull away completely. Trying to isolate yourself so nothing and no one can hurt you again.

The first week after you had moved into the apartment above the bar—which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds—she taught you how to pour drinks, what bottle is what on the shelf, how to clean glasses efficiently, but best of all, how to deal with all kinds of fae who decide to wander in. The worst of which were creepy males who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Benny kept your mind busy, doing anything and everything she could, giving you advice despite not asking for it. One of the most freeing feelings was no guilt when you went shopping for the first time since being on your own, now you don’t feel like you owe anyone when you spend a single dollar.

Your coworkers were the next best thing for getting your mind away from your family. Odessa—the black-haired female—is probably your favourite person other than Benny. She looked quite intimidating at first but once you got to know her she was a sweetheart—kind and funny. Quick to make you feel at home. She is also a busybody, not that you complain.

Speaking of Odessa, she’s standing in front of you, her hip leaning on the edge of the bar, animatedly moving her hands as she ranted about her latest experience with ‘irritating males’ as she so kindly put it.

“Gods, then he tried to buy me a drink even though I told him I wasn’t interested again.” Exasperated, she finishes her story with a scoff and an eye-roll. You purse your lips and lift your guilty gaze to meet hers, the female tilts her head at your expression, and her mouth drops open, “Were you not listening to me?” she exclaims.

You place the glass that you were drying down on the bar top. A heavy breath leaving you and an apologetic look on your face, “I was Dessa, I promise. I just got in my head.” Mumbling the last part. A playful glare graces her features, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “You're lucky you’re good at your job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice.” A snort escapes you at that.

Just as you were about to retort, a hand harshly claps your shoulder, “She is good at her job, but she won’t be if she keeps getting distracted by you. Now go on.” The deep voice shoos her away. Frowning in return, she grabs a tray of drinks and stalks off with a crude gesture thrown over her shoulder at him.

You turn to see scruffy brown hair and tanned skin—Dominic. who is the biggest and most intimidating male you’ve ever seen, also an older male, with faint lines on his scowling face. He still won't tell you how old he is. You'd have to guess he's older than the males in the inner circle.

He raises his eyebrows at you. Flushing slightly upon realising that he must have asked you a question, while you were lost in thought. Again.

A sharp exhale passes through his lips, waving a hand in exasperation, “Can you please go check on the boys in the back? They're taking far too long to just bring out a couple of crates of booze.” With a curt nod, you turn and head into the kitchen.

Scanning the room, you find the two males you were sent to find. Oberon and Tarian, chatting away while seated in the corner. You arch a brow at the sight, arms crossing over your chest. The huff you let out pulls their attention to you, a friendly smile from Tarian and a feline smirk from Oberon sent your way.

“Dominic wants to know what’s taking you so long to get the new crates of liquor.” Grimaces shift their expressions. They share a look before turning back to you. Oberon's cropped blonde hair falls across his forehead at the movement, blue eyes meeting your own. Lips pulled into his previous smirk. “Wasn't Adem supposed to help?”

An incredulous look twists your features. “Just do it.” You grumble before turning to leave. “y/n.” Tarian’s raspy voice grabs your attention. Pale skin glimmering in the soft lights, “Cover for us?” mousy-coloured curls bouncing slightly with a tilt of his head. Grey eyes glittered with mischief.

You scoff before you exit the kitchen. “No. I got in trouble last time.” snickers are heard from behind you at that, though you do hear bottles clink together, indicating they had finally decided to do their job.

Blue hair flashes across your vision, Benny stepping into your path. “Break time.” voice with a singsong tone. Just as you're about to argue that you had your last one not too long ago, she cuts in. “Your last break was about five hours ago.” her arms folded over her chest.

Eyes widening before giving her a small defeated nod, you follow her to the bar's entrance, passing Adem on the way. The red-haired male gives you a smile, which you return as you pass through the door.

─

The inner circle has been miserable, sulking over every word you had yelled at them. Truly realising their own mistakes soon after the door had slammed closed behind them. Not going to look for you, with the excuse of wanting to give you space. Three months of space isn’t enough it seems.

Azriel immediately sent a few shadows after you to make sure you’d be okay. Well as okay as one could be after a horrific birthday. Those same shadows hadn’t left your side since. You haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time before you did. Swirling dark tendrils aren’t exactly the most discrete thing when one is walking in broad daylight.

He had felt horrible that he hadn’t said anything when you looked at him that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he was the only one who didn’t forget your day. Or the fact he had gotten you a present and hadn’t given it to you. The day after you left, he had given the present to Benny to give to you, which she did, but fulfilled his wish to not say it was from him. Already Feeling bad enough for not giving you it himself.

Walking down the cobbled streets of Valaris was something he and his brothers had done for years, though since Rhys had been crowned high lord, it was rare for them to get that time. The three of them looking for a place to maybe have lunch, or just sit and have a nice chat. Any excuse to spend just a couple more hours together. Their mates had sent them off so they could have a ‘girls’ day’ at home, which is most likely a cover to plan how to make it up to you.

A pointy elbow jabs Azriel in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pained grunt. Glaring up at his brother, Cassian only replies with a snort. “What was that for?” Azriel grits out, hand rubbing his side.

“You’re brooding. No brooding on boys’ day.” At his words, a chuckle escapes from Rhysand who’s on Cassian’s otherside.

“I am not brooding.” Azriel grumbles. “Fine then, moping.” Cassian’s words have that same teasing tone as when they’re sparring, trying to rile him up as much as possible

Opening his mouth to growl out a retort, shining blue hair flashes from across the street at a Cafe, catching Cass’ attention. “Benny!” His booming voice yells towards her.

Head snapping in the direction that her name came from. a beaming smile stretching across her features seeing the three boys.

Before Rhys or Az can pull him back, Cassians already bounding over to her, pulling her into a hug before she could take a seat at her table. A laugh bubbles from her chest, hugging him back.

Joining them, Rhys grins at her, And Azriel gives her a nod of acknowledgement. “Long time no see. How’ve you boys been?” her smile still clear in her voice.

“We’ve been great, how about you? Are you having a late lunch all by yourself?” Rhysand’s voice has his usual charming lilt to it.

“I’ve been good too. Not alone, my friend is in the bathroom.” Azriel’s attention is pulled towards the bathroom door as if he could tell who her friend was from where he is standing. “Haven't seen you all in nearly a century. Busy with mates now I assume.” more a question than a statement.

“Yup,” Cassian enthusiastically pops the ‘p’ “you need to meet them, you’ll love them.” A loud, over exaggerated gasp gets pulled from him. “We should all go to your bar for dinner and drinks.” Beaming, likes it’s his best idea he’s ever had.

Benny’s own smile grows in response. “I'd love that. I’ll even reserve your old favourite table. Though I might have to pull two together considering how much your family’s grown.

a bark of excited laughter is pulled from Cassian. Rhys pulls him away before he can distract her from her lunch any more than he already has. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s leave you to it, and we’ll see you in a couple days?”

“I’ll save a couple tables for you.” She embraces each of them, before pulling away and waving them off, to finally sit down.

They depart with smiles and waves, then head off to find a place for them to have their lunch. Azriel can’t help but look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of who she’s with. Before they round a corner and are out of sight, he sees exactly who it is. You.

─

You exit the toilet and make your way over to the table Benny had chosen outside. The food and coffee you had picked now waiting for you.

As you pull your chair out, she turns her gaze back to you, a grin gracing her cerulean features. Deciding to ignore the mischievous undertones of that look, you pick up the pastry sitting in front of you and take a bite.

“We're going to be busy in a couple of days. A couple tables have been booked.” She speaks as if it’s an afterthought.

Your brows pull together at her words. “Since when did we reserve tables?” you inquire, never having heard that was a possibility for the bar. “We don't. They’re just special guests.” her voice light as she picks up her coffee, signalling that she won’t be answering any more questions.

Glancing in the direction that held her attention previously, you find nothing. whoever it was must’ve been important for Benny to change her usual routine with the bar. choosing not to dwell on it for too long, you turn back to the female in front of you, to enjoy your lunch.

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a/n: There might be some spelling mistakes. I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, and i know this isn’t exactly the part two you guys wanted, but the story needs to be built up just a little bit. I promise the next part won’t take as long, and there will absolutely be more interactions with the inner circle. Thank you for your patience, I have had low energy because I’ve been quite sick, and haven’t been able to get this to a place where I want to post it. I hope you liked it anyway. <3

[bronzealchemy]

just keep falling, part 4

⋆. 𐙚˚ you dream of caleb and the two of you fuck talk it out

you were dreaming. because only in your dream you could see him again. his violet expressive eyes. the freckles on his nose. his smell like home. your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him.

„caleb“, you breathed. your throat felt sore.  

„pipsqueak.“ it was the only thing he said, before you pulled your arms around his neck and held him close, inhaling deeply. this dream was so fucking realistic. he smelled just like he had in reality. he felt like that, too. the hard planes of his chest. the soft skin of his neck. his broad shoulders under your fingertips. 

„why did you leave me?“, you whispered, tears prickling in your eyes. you didn’t want to let them run, but it was unstoppable. you shook in his arms, while your cheeks got wet. slowly you released your grip on his neck to look into his face. and what you found, let your heart skip a beat. 

his eyes were empty. as if there was a trigger pulled that switched everything off.

„it didn’t take you long to forget me“, he said flatly. his voice was like his eyes – devoid of any feeling. 

„that’s not true!“ you grabbed his face, getting on your knees on the bed to directly look into them, to find that spark that was just caleb. „I almost died with you that day. don’t ever think I forgot you. don’t you ever think that there was a day my soul didn’t break, because you weren’t there.“ 

he lifted his eyes, a dark and glooming look took over them. „you let him in.“

your throat felt suddenly dry. „I …“ you couldn’t finish the sentence. because what were you going to say? that you didn’t let somebody else in your life? you both knew that that was a lie. because gideon was there. you let him into your life and into your bed. the two of you only survived the last year, because you had each other. but you also couldn’t tell caleb that. besides … what kind of stupid dream was this? 

why were you wasting your time talking about another man, when caleb was right here?

you didn’t hesitate a second longer. „I don’t want to talk about him“, you said, leaning your forehead against his, closing your eyes. „I only want you right now.“

calebs breath hitched. when you came closer, he grabbed your arms. hard. „you let him in. you let him touch you.“

„yes I did“, you shot back. „because you weren’t fucking there!“ 

he blinked. slowly, the life returned to his expression. a muscle in his jaw twitched. next thing you knew, he buried his hand in your hair and pulled your head back. „fuck this“, he said. then his mouth collided with yours.

you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t grasp a single thought.

calebs mouth was on yours. dream or not – his body was on yours, his tongue danced with yours, and your body was in complete harmony with his. 

„I missed this“, you whispered into his mouth. 

he bit your lip hard enough to almost draw blood. „didn’t look like it.“ he licked the place he had bitten into and the sweet pain subsided.

„let me feel you“, you begged, when he put his knee between your legs and hit the exact spot that was aching. 

„I don’t think you have been a good enough girl for that.“ his words danced over the skin of your neck, then he bit you again and you moaned when his tongue was on your skin again, while his knee stopped the movement. 

„don’t stop“, you whined.

he looked up at you through thick lashes, slowly shaking his head. „only good girls get rewards, pipsqueak.“ 

this dream version of caleb was so incredibly different from the man you lost all those months ago. he was harsh, almost brutal in the way he withheld you the pleasure you so desperately needed. 

„what do I need to do?“, you inquired, raising yourself up on your elbows. „do you want me to get to my knees? to beg for it?“

his cheeks were flushed, but he nodded. „yes.“

at first you thought he was joking. caleb never was the kind of man who made you beg for anything. but maybe your subconscious wanted to tell you something.

„fine“, you said, your voice sounding slightly out of breath. then you got up from the bed and on your knees, looking up at him. „please, caleb“, you whispered. 

he raised his hand, slowly grazing your bottom lip with his thumb. your breathing hitched at the deliberate touch. „again.“

„I need you. please, caleb.“

„tell me exactly what you need.“ he tilted his head, his gaze unyielding.

your cheeks were feeling hot. „I need you inside me.“

„me? inside you?“, he repeated and you nodded, still on your knees. „what exactly do you need, honey? my fingers? my tongue?“

„your cock.“ the words came out raspy and out of breath. he was still hovering over you, grazing your lip so soft you wished for him to bite you again.

you put your hands on his thighs, slowly stroking them up and down. his adams apple bobbed. that was the first real reaction he showed. 

„you want my cock?“

you nodded frantically. „yes. and if you make me beg one more time, I’ll hurt you.“ 

the corners of his mouth went up a little. „if you want my cock – take it.“

you blinked. he stayed in the exact same position, his gaze almost challenging. and you always were up for a challenge. in the blink of an eye, you tore at his belt, opening his black pants, freeing his length, greedily taking it into your hands. 

„can I?“, you asked hoarse. one nod was the only thing you needed. with your eyes still on caleb, you licked a trail over his hard length. again. and a third time, even slower, more deliberate than before.

„stop teasing me“, he snarled. 

„why?“, you shot back. „that’s exactly what you just did.“

„pipsqueak.“ there was a warning in his voice. „if you keep doing that, I’ll …“

you sucked him so deeply into your mouth, his tip hit the back of your throat while you kept looking up at him. he pulled his head back and let out a curse under his breath. then you really started working him with your mouth and both your hands, and it didn’t take long for his hard demeanor to dissolve and make way for a whimper. fuck, how you missed that sound and the feeling of him inside you. you sucked on the soft spot just under his tip and caleb cursed once more.

„don’t do that again, or it’ll be over sooner than we both want.“ 

you always loved teasing him, so you did exactly that.

before you knew what was happening, he was on you, in the middle of the bedroom floor, ripping your panties to shreds. when he touched you down there, you moaned. he pulled his fingers to his mouth and licked the wetness from them. „I think you’re wet enough. don’t you?“ 

„fuck, yes.“ you pulled him closer.

he entered you slowly, only giving you his tip. you tried to pull him closer, but he was stronger than you. „nuh uh, honey.“ 

„more“, you whined. 

„why?“ he pulled out of you, then entered back inside, again with only his tip. „is this not enough?“

„this is torture.“

he let out a breathy laugh. „you know nothing about torture.“ then, without a warning, he pressed himself inside you to the hilt. you let out a scream. „torture is“, he said through gritted teeth, accentuating his words with hard thrusts. „to see“, another thrust, „the woman you love“, he hit your sweet spot and you panted, „fuck your best friend.“

he was punishing you with his cock, fucking you with hard, controlled thrusts that made you see stars. 

„I’m sorry“, you whined. „I’m so sorry, caleb.“

„I“, thrust, „won’t“, thrust, „accept“, thrust „your“, thrust, „excuses.“ 

you clawed at his back, arching your own, and taking this punishment with everything you had. you were so near to your release, you could almost taste it. 

„I belong to you“, you screamed.

„good.“ caleb gripped your hair again, forcing you to look inside his eyes full of desperation. „because my soul is eternally yours. and when you fucked him, you broke something inside me.“ he was still going in his rapid pace, but you saw the shimmer in his eyes. you stroked his cheek, pushed the hair out of his forehead. 

„I only ever belonged to you“, you whispered, while tears fell – from your eyes and his. 

caleb closed his eyes, took one of your legs and gripped it hard, while he pounded into you. „again, pipsqueak.“

„I belong to you. always“, you repeated, your voice laced with lust. the tension rose to unknown heights, and you let out a scream, when the orgasm washed over you. caleb followed you shortly after, biting down on the crook of your neck, then cursing and then moaning your name. you held him while he was still pulsing inside you. 

this was a dream. it just had to be. you couldn’t imagine what you would do if it weren’t. 

because for a split second, when you swore to caleb you belonged to him, your mind had wandered to gideon. 

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 5

previous | chapter 5 | next

꩜ synopsis: you’re best friends. just best friends. except when she lingers a little too long at your door. except when she calls you her favorite, and it doesn’t feel like a joke. except when her fingers graze yours and neither of you pull away. except when you start to wonder if she’s wondering, too…

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: your usual swearing.

꩜ WC: 6.2K

꩜ A/N: I’m back my loves, (finally) and i’m terrified and excited about this chapter, it took me a bit to get it right so i hope u like it<3 (also this is NOT the end ok, i have some more tricks under my sleeve wink wink)

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

Blind. That’s what Ellie was. Blind.

How the hell hadn’t she seen it sooner?

All the lingering glances, the racing pulse whenever you smiled at her, the way her fingers twitched when yours brushed hers. God, even platonically. The way your voice settled in her chest like it belonged there. How everything, every sound, every thought, every corner of her mind always came back to you.

She should’ve known.

But maybe she did know. Somewhere, deep down, in that place she never let herself go. She was just good at burying it. Smothering the feelings before they could fully form. Drowning them in sarcasm, in excuses, in "we’re just friends" and "don’t be stupid, Ellie."

But how could she bury something that bloomed every time you looked at her like that?

Like she was your person. Like no one else mattered.

Maybe she imagined it. Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you didn’t feel it too. But that night. God, that night you leaned in. Almost. Just enough to drive her insane replaying the moment ever since.

She cursed the goddamn event coordinator since then.

What if she hadn’t said her name?

Would you have kissed her? Pulled away? Laughed? Would you still be speaking to her now?

It was all one big what if, hanging heavy over her chest.

She hadn’t been able to look at her phone without her stomach flipping. There was still so much left unsaid, and Ellie didn’t know if she was ready to say any of it. But Jesse, as always, wasn’t about to let her hide.

She was pacing her studio, camera lenses scattered like thoughts. This place used to be her safe space, somewhere to escape. But now, even here, she couldn’t get you out of her head.

“That’s what you’re doing, y’know,” Jesse said, casually flipping through an old photography zine on the couch. “You’re spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Ellie muttered, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m just… stuck.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Ellie, you’re pacing a hole into the floor.”

Ellie dropped into her chair, elbows on her knees, fidgeting with the frayed hem of her shirt. “She didn’t back off when I leaned in,” she said, voice quiet. “She didn’t move. I swear to God, Jesse, we were right there.”

“Yeah. Until that lady came in—Eva?” Jesse tilted his head. “She’s the villain now?”

“Public enemy number one,” Ellie muttered. “She burst in right at the worst fucking moment.”

“You sure that’s a bad thing?”

Ellie hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure what would’ve happened if she didn’t.” She leaned back with a groan. “I probably would’ve panicked. Or kissed her. Or both.”

Jesse set the zine aside. His expression softened. “You really care about her, huh?”

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “She’s my best friend, man. But it’s not just that. It hasn’t been just that for a long time. I didn’t even realize it until the gala, and now it’s like… I can’t breathe without thinking about her. I don’t even know if she wants the same thing. What if I ruin it?”

Jesse was quiet for a second. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What if you don’t? What if she’s waiting for you to say something because she’s scared to lose you too?”

Ellie swallowed, chest aching. “I hate this.”

“I know. But you hate not knowing more.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. Her throat felt tight. Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.

“I can’t fuck this one up,” she whispered. “Especially not her.”

The diner was packed, as usual. Maria had asked you to cover for Jasmine who’d called in sick, though you were almost certain she was just nursing a hangover. Either way, here you were, caught in the middle of the lunch rush chaos, juggling orders, wiping down sticky syrup-coated tables, and trying not to lose your mind. That’s when the soft chime of the bell above the door caught your attention.

You didn’t even need to look up to know it was Dina. She always came around this time on Wednesdays—part routine, part check-in.

You slid a menu across the counter without saying a word, and Dina gave you a look. “You’re doing the thing again.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you act all chill but you’re obviously losing your shit.”

You exhaled through your nose, pouring coffee on the mug that sat in front of Dina as if the act alone could ground you. “I told you everything already.”

“Yeah, at one in the morning,” she said, stirring cream into her coffee. “You called me mid-panic. I need details now that we’re both functioning humans.”

You chewed your bottom lip, glancing around before leaning in a little. “We almost kissed.”

Dina blinked, then leaned forward with a sharp whisper. “What?! You didn’t say that part!”

“I didn’t?” You frowned. “Shit—my bad.”

“Don’t you think, that’s like—vital information. What do you mean ‘almost’?”

You set the coffee pot down and grabbed a fresh order from the kitchen window, heart pounding. “We were close. Like, close close. I swear if that woman hadn’t called Ellie’s name, I think we might’ve—” You stopped. “But I don’t know. What if I imagined it? What if she wasn’t going to kiss me at all?”

Dina raised her brows. “Did you want to kiss her?”

You paused for a beat too long.

“…Yeah.”

And it wasn’t just a little want. It was the past two years of built up something. Longing. Fear. Yearning. You had felt it that night like a wave, about to crash.

“She looked at me like she wanted to kiss me too,” you added, quieter now. “But then she left. And when she came back, it was like it didn’t even happen. Like we didn’t almost change everything.”

Dina leaned back in the counter, arms crossed. “Okay. First of all, I’m like 90% sure she’s just scared. I mean, it’s Ellie. Her idea of confronting a situation is to run away from it.”

You cracked a tired smile, heart still aching under the surface.

“We haven't texted much,” you admitted. “I mean we have been pretty busy too but, I don’t know if she’s avoiding me or if I should just pretend none of it happened.”

Dina’s voice was softer now. “What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You picked up the empty coffee pot again, refilled someone’s mug, then came back to lean against the counter.

“I want her to kiss me,” you said finally. “I want it to mean something. I just… I’m scared, Dee. What if I lose her?”

Dina gave you a look that was both sympathetic and knowing. “You’re already halfway gone, sweetheart. So is she. You’re both just too stubborn to admit it.”

You stared out at the diner, its quiet hum a stark contrast to the storm inside your chest.

You hadn’t said it out loud to Ellie, and maybe you wouldn’t for a while. But still—it was there, gnawing at your ribs like a secret too big to keep.

You were in love with her. And it was terrifying.

“Yeah, well—speaking of,” you said, shifting subject with a knowing grin. “What about you and Jesse?”

Dina froze mid-sip, eyes narrowing at the sudden ambush. “What about him?” she replied coolly, taking a longer gulp of her coffee like it might wash the question away.

You raised your brows, giving her your best you’re-not-getting-away-with-that look. “Don’t bullshit me, Dee. I’m over here spiraling about my best-friends-who-almost-kissed disaster, and you’re gonna pretend you and Jesse haven’t kissed a couple of times?”

Dina nearly choked. She set her mug down with a thunk. “Three times,” she muttered under her breath, like she hoped you wouldn’t catch it.

But you did.

“Three—Dina what the fuck?!” you gasped, practically leaping across the counter to sit beside her. “Explain. Now.”

The chatter with Dina had flowed easily, a welcome distraction from the mess in your chest. Eventually, she left for her afternoon class, and you were left behind to wrangle the chaos of the diner. You wrapped up orders, wiped down greasy tables, and made sure everything ran smoothly for the rest of the evening.

It was better that way, keeping your hands busy so your thoughts wouldn’t wander back to her.

To her smile, her freckles, those green eyes you could get lost in forever. To the way she’d so obviously gotten jealous when you were talking to Abby.

You needed to talk to Ellie. You wanted to. But it scared the living shit out of you, the thought of her not reciprocating those feelings made your stomach twist with nausea. Losing her would mean losing a part of you.

But how were you even supposed to bring it up? It’s not like that kind of thing just comes up in casual conversation. Hey, did you want to kiss me too, or was I just drunk on sparkling apple cider?

Not exactly Wednesday small talk.

You hadn’t seen her in four days. That alone was strange. Ellie usually dropped by the diner just to say hi, sometimes to grab a coffee she didn’t even want. Her absence sat heavy on your bones. The uncertainty was eating you alive.

And then, as if summoned by your spiraling thoughts, your phone buzzed in your pocket. A new message.

It was from her.

Ellie had sent you one of the photos she’d taken at the gala. It was stunning—you, captured mid-laugh, the soft lighting curling around you like something out of a dream. Ellie always made you feel like a princess, or something out of a renaissance painting. She didn’t just take photos, she saw you.

You smiled without realizing it, fingers hovering over your screen before finally typing:

“Omg Ellie, you made me look like I have my shit together.”

Meanwhile, Ellie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She hadn’t texted you in days, and it had been killing her. Not knowing how you were. Not hearing your voice.

She felt guilty, half avoiding you, half drowning herself in work. Telling herself she was too busy. Which she was. But she was scared. Scared that if she saw you, all the feelings she’d buried would come spilling out, no longer willing to be ignored. So instead, she hid.

Your message made her chest ache in the best way.

“The magic of photography, babe.”

She hesitated before sending it, then threw her phone across the couch like it was radioactive.

Your reply came quickly, “I miss ur stupid face. Wanna hang out soon?”

You nearly threw your phone across the diner the moment you hit send. It wasn’t even a risky text. A normal thing. Something friends said. Right?

Ellie read it three times, heart pounding. You wanted to see her. You missed her. And she—god, she missed you too. So much.

She just needed to keep it together. To not lose her mind.

“I miss u too. Sorry I’ve been busy w work. But u should come over so I can show u the gala pics ;)”

She almost hid her phone under a pillow after that one. Like a teenager. Like an idiot.

“I would love that. I’ll see u tomorrow then?”

“I’ll be waiting here for you with your favorite Thai food.”

You smiled at the screen. Of course she remembered.

“You’re an angel.”

And with that, you tucked your phone back into your apron pocket, heart fluttering quietly.

You finished closing up the diner, but the quiet didn’t bring relief. If anything, it made your mind louder. You lingered at the counter longer than necessary, pretending to wipe down an already clean surface. The warm buzz from texting Ellie had begun to fade, replaced by something heavier.

Doubt.

What if things felt different when you saw her? What if you couldn’t fall back into your usual rhythm? What if she looked at you and everything that almost happened hung in the air like fog, thick and unspoken?

You tried to shake it off, but it clung to you. Even as you left the diner and walked home under the soft glow of streetlights, the air felt heavy. Like the moment you’d been both longing for and dreading was finally catching up to you.

At the same time, Ellie lay on her bed with her arm flung over her eyes, heart stuttering like it didn’t know what to do with itself.

She’d texted you. She’d invited you. She was going to see you tomorrow.

What the hell were you gonna say to each other?

Would you bring it up? Would she? Would you both pretend that nothing almost happened? Would it hurt if you did?

She turned onto her side and stared at the old camera sitting on her desk. She’d found it while cleaning, an impulsive attempt to distract herself from how much she missed you. Ellie had scrubbed every inch of her place, unpacked boxes she forgot she even had. And there it was. Her first camera. An old instax fuji. It was the first one she ever owned. Joel gave it to her on her seventeenth birthday, and it was the reason she fell in love with photography in the first place. Her fingers twitched with the memory of it. How heavy it felt in her hands back then. How lighter it felt now.

She stared at it like it might blink back at her.

You were her muse, not that she’d ever say it out loud. Not yet. But there was something about you that fascinated her endlessly, like the light always hit you just right.

She could practically hear Jesse’s voice in her head, teasing her, urging her not to be a coward.

But it wasn’t that simple. Because this was you.

And you were everything.

She closed her eyes and let the weight of that settle deep into her bones.

The next day crept in quietly. Your shift at the diner was slow, save for one entitled Karen who nearly ruined your mood but didn’t. Not really. Maria let you clock out early since the place was practically empty, and you thanked her with a tired smile before heading home.

You used the extra time to shower. The hot water melted the day off your skin, steaming the ache from your muscles. Wrapped in your towel, you stood in front of your closet like it was some impossible puzzle.

Three outfits in, and nothing felt right, too casual, too try hard, too boring.

Finally, you settled on your favorite jeans and a soft shirt Ellie once said she liked, though you pretended you didn’t notice at the time. But of course you did.

You tugged it on, paused at the mirror and stared at your reflection, trying to figure what could be missing. Makeup. Just a little. Enough to look like you slept more than five hours. Concealer for the bags. A bit of blush. Chapstick.

Then you paused. Looked again.

Was this okay? Did you look like yourself? Did you look like someone she’d maybe want to kiss?

The thought made your stomach twist. You busied yourself brushing your hair, then reapplying chapstick, then pacing your room in slow, nervous loops.

Across town, Ellie was going through it.

She changed shirts at least ten times. Maybe more. She lost count.

Graphic tee? Too Ellie. Button up? Too formal.

Now she stood in the mirror in a plain white tank and an open flannel she couldn’t bring herself to button. God, why did she care so much?

Her hair was messy, framing her features just right, she didn’t think too much about it.

She sat on the edge of her bed, buried her face in her hands.

“It’s just her,” she whispered.

But it wasn’t just you.

It was you.

Her eyes flicked to the camera on the desk.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, standing again. “Jesus, what's wrong with me? It 's just her.”

You were already on your way. Fidgeting with your phone on the bus, rehearsing how to act casual even though your chest felt like it was hosting a four-piece marching band.

This was fine. Totally fine. Best friends hang out all the time.

Even if they almost kiss. Even if neither of you had stopped thinking about it since.

Totally. Fine.

There was a knock on Ellie’s door, she sprang from the couch, almost tripping on her feet. She cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair, and opened the door with what she hoped was a casual, ‘I definitely didn’t almost trip just now’ expression.

But it wasn’t you. It was the delivery girl.

Mid-twenties, eye liner so sharp it could cut heads and a smirk like she knew something Ellie didn’t, holding the brown paper bag like it was a bouquet of roses.

“Thai food for…” she double checked the receipt taped to the bag, meeting Ellie’s eyes this time, “Ellie?”

“Yeah that’s me,” she said awkwardly, tattooed arm reaching for the bag.

But the girl didn’t let go just yet.

“You know,” she said, cocking her head, tone slightly seductive, “you have that like… tortured artist vibe. It’s pretty hot.”

Ellie blinked. Did she hear that right?

“Umm thanks?” She took the bag and stepped back, her voice mixed with confusion and politeness. “Tip’s already in the app.”

“Oh…” The girl looked disappointed, she hadn’t got what she wanted, a reaction from Ellie.

“Alright then, have a good one” Ellie forced a smile, then closed the door with a soft click. She stood there for a second, blinking at the door. Usually–normally, she would’ve flirted back, get the girl’s hopes up… But now, it felt wrong, not because the girl wasn’t cute or whatever, but she felt like she was betraying you, somehow.

She exhaled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and went to set the food on the coffee table. Everything was in its place–blankets, laptop, dim lamps lit, just enough to make it feel cozy without screaming date night.

She started to doubt, was it too much? Not enough?

Her thoughts were dissolved by the knock on the door. This time she knew it was you, and her stomach did a backflip.

You stood on the other side of the door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying not to fix your hair again. It was fine. You looked fine. Normal. Friendly.

The door swung open almost immediately, Ellie’s cheeks flushed like she had ran a marathon.

“Hey stranger,” you said, smiling.

“Hey,” Ellie echoed, stepping aside to let you in.

You were wearing her favorite shirt, the one she mentioned months ago that looked good on you, and on top of that a jacket Joel had given you last year for christmas. You looked warm. Beautiful.

The silence stretched. Not awkward, but heavy.

You looked at Ellie, green eyes meeting yours. God. You could die right now.

Her studio was dimly lit, warm in that quiet, lived-in type of way that made it feel safe. A few lamps were on, and she had set up her living room into a cozy almost picnic set up, blankets sprawled on the floor in front of the coffee table, with a few cushions adorning it. The place smelled like her. Cedarwood soap, and something faintly citrus.

You kicked off your shoes and glanced around, eyes falling into the messy table near the kitchen, where all her camera gear sat down. A stack of freshly printed photos sat on the coffee table.

“Wow,” you said, crouching beside the prints, “You’ve been busy.”

Ellie scratched the back of her neck, shutting the door. “Yeah, trying to keep myself occupied.” She moved towards the couch, gesturing to the food. Two takeout boxes sat on the small coffee table, beside her laptop, which was connected to her camera.

“I already set it all up. Got your favorite.”

Your chest fluttered, “You remembered.”

“Of course I did, you never shut up about this pad thai.”

You huffed a soft laugh, the cozy silence settled easily between you, like a familiar blanket. You sat cross-legged on the rug, steam curling up from the takeout boxes, while Ellie clicked through the gala pics folder. The warm lighting from a single lamp painted soft shadows on her face. You couldn’t help watching her hands move on the keyboard, precise, fast, confident in a way that made your stomach flutter for entirely new reasons.

“So what’s up with all those empty boxes outside of your door?” you asked, breaking in half the pair of chopsticks that came inside the bag of takeout.

“Oh, It’s just garbage and shit. I got the urge to clean out my whole place. I was bored I guess.”

“Too bored without me I’d say” you said smiling, but you actually meant it.

Conversation with Ellie was always easy, natural. It was the best part of your day, and you truly had missed her. You updated each other on what had been going on with work and stuff over the last couple days (and of course Dina and Jesse gossip) as you both ate slowly, your chopsticks tapping the inside of the paper box occasionally. Ellie made an offhand comment about one of the photos, and you followed with one of your own, as well as updates on the last few days, the diner, her work. A few minutes passed. Then a few more. At some point, your legs stretched out, brushing against hers under the table. Neither of you moved them away.

“I missed this,” you said, voice low. “Us. Hanging out.”

She nodded. “Yeah me too.”

You were about to reach for another napkin when your fingers brushed hers. Neither of you had realized you were reaching out at the same time. A blush crept down Ellie’s neck, and you were so glad the room was almost too dark for her to notice the heat on your own cheeks.

“Okay so,” she broke the silence, “I edited these at like, three in the morning, so they’re not finished. If they look bad, it’s because I was sleep deprived—”

“Shut up, Ellie,” you cut in, nudging her elbow with yours. “You’re literally the most talented person I know.”

Ellie tried to hide the way her ears turned pink. She looked back at the screen, clicking through photos: Dr. Anderson mid-speech, guests caught mid-bite, posed shots, the venue decked out in fundraiser banners, some group photos of the donors—and then…

You.

You nearly choked on your noodles.

There you were. Caught mid-laugh, the blurred twinkle of lights behind you, your head tilted slightly looking toward Ellie’s direction, like you were somehow looking straight through her lens.

Ellie clicked her laptop shut. Like she was trying to hide something.

“Hey… I was seeing that,” you said, feigning annoyance.

“They’re not even that good,” she muttered, not meeting your gaze.

“Oh shut up, let me see—come on…” You reached over, your fingers grazing hers as you pried the laptop open again. You clicked back through the folder, finding the shots she’d tried to hide.

And your breath caught.

Candid after candid of you at the gala: leaning against the bar, turning over your shoulder, your eyes glowing under golden lights. Your eyes widened.

“Holy shit, Ellie,” you whispered. “How—how are these even real?”

“That’s how I see you,” she said softly.

You turned to her. “What?”

She blinked, shook her head. “Huh? Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

But she was still staring at the screen. Pretending to scroll. But her fingers weren’t moving.

The silence thickened, soft and heavy.

Your heart pounded loud and obvious in your chest. You were about to speak when Ellie abruptly stood.

“I wanna show you something I found. I’ll be right back.”

She walked down the short hallway to her room, disappearing for a second. You heard a soft clatter of something metal, then the quick shuffle of her feet as she returned, holding a small, older camera.

“Joel gave me this when I was seventeen,” she said. “First one I ever owned.”

Her fingers curled around it like it was sacred. “Still works,” she added. “Wanna see?”

Before you could answer, a soft click—the flash burst to life.

“Ellie!” you laughed, blinking spots out of your vision.

She grinned, camera still raised. “Nope. Nuh uh.”

You tried to cover your face.

Her hands trembled just slightly as she adjusted the lens, wiping her palms on her jeans.

“Come on, don’t be a party pooper,” she said, softer now. “You’re my favorite thing to shoot.”

You froze.

So did she.

“Just a few shots, I promise,” she said, giving you those puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Fine… but I’m burning them after.”

“You wish.” She started snapping pictures. Her voice wasn’t casual anymore, it was softer. Compliments slipping out in murmurs.

“Don’t move… yeah, like that. You always do that little smile when you’re unsure. It’s cute.”

Your breath caught.

She knelt on one knee, camera focused, trying a different angle, whispering again: “You’re fucking unreal.”

You looked away, flushed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Ellie lowered the camera, inspecting the shots. Her cheeks pink, her smile soft.

“Okay,” she said, “these actually came out so good.”

You groaned and flopped onto the rug. “I can’t believe I let you take pictures of me while I’m full of pad thai.”

She laughed, setting the camera in her lap. “You look beautiful.”

You blinked. Sat up halfway. Heart tripping over that word.

She hadn’t even flinched when she said it.

After a beat, you reached toward her, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, grinning. “Okay, okay. My turn. You’re not escaping this.”

Ellie blinked. “What? No. No way.”

You grabbed the camera anyway. She clutched it to her chest like a teddy bear. “You don’t even know how to use it.”

“Ellie. Come on. Fair’s fair.”

“Nooo—”

“Yes.”

“I’m camera shy.”

You snorted. “You took twelve photos of me in a row. I get at least one.”

She hesitated, lips twitching. “…Fine. One.”

You beamed, taking the camera and fiddling with the buttons, while she muttered quiet instructions, blushing.

“Stay still, Williams,” you teased.

She stared up at you, completely frozen.

You lifted the camera and snapped a picture. “You’re, like, criminally photogenic,” you whispered.

Ellie groaned, hiding her face behind her hands. “Stop.”

“You look nervous,” you teased again. “Something you wanna admit to me?”

She rolled her eyes, voice softer. “I just… don’t like being on this side of the lens.”

“Well, lucky for you,” you said, lifting the camera again, “I’m great at making people feel comfortable.”

She sat cross legged, glancing down. And you caught it, how unsure she looks. How soft.

“Ellie,” you whispered. “Look at me.”

She did.

You clicked.

Then again.

She gave a shy smile. You grinned. “You’re kind of adorable, you know that?”

Her nose scrunched. “Fuck off.”

“Never.”

You crouched down slightly, readjusting the lens. “Tilt your head. Yeah—like that.” She obeyed and you stepped in closer.

“Okay now, act like you’re not the coolest person I’ve ever met.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, covering her face again.

You laughed, gently pulling her hands away. “Come on. No one’s gonna see these. Just me.”

Your fingers lingered on her wrist a second too long. She noticed.

You lowered the camera, your voice dropping. “…Stay like that.”

And before she could ask why, you were hovering her, slowly, deliberately, you climbed into her lap, straddling her hips, pinning her gently to the floor. Legs caging her in. Her breath hitched. Your hands hovered over the camera adjusting the lens.

Her hands flinched against the rug.

“Wh—what are you doing?” she asked, voice uneven, her eyes flicking between yours. Propping up on her elbows.

“Making sure you don’t run away,” you murmured.

You raised the camera again. “Ellie. You’re so beautiful.”

She stared up at you blushing. Breathless.

“You’re insane,” she whispered.

But she wasn’t pushing you away.

You rested the camera against your chest. Her eyes, green and wide met yours.

“I mean it,” you said, barely audible.

She looked at you like she was unraveling. Every part of her, tight with tension, heat, want.

You leaned in.

The space between you shrinking.

“Why haven’t we talked about the gala?” you whispered. A sting of pain in your tone.

Ellie swallowed. “Because I’m a coward.” Her eyes never meeting yours, like she was too scared to even look at you.

You blinked. Your voice was soft. “You’re not.”

“I—I almost kissed you.”

“I know.”

Now she was looking at you. Raw. Scared. Hopeful.

“Are you…” she asked, voice trembling, “drunk? Or tired? Or…”

You shook your head. “No.”

Your voice was steady.

Your heart wasn’t.

She stared like you’d just said the most terrifying and beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

Ellie’s lips parted, but she didn’t say anything.

She just looked at you, like she was searching for something. A sign. Permission. Courage.

So you gave it to her.

You leaned in, just a little…enough that your noses brushed, your breaths mingled. Her hands hovered near your waist, uncertain. You reached up, slowly, cupping her jaw like you were afraid she might vanish if you moved too fast.

“Ellie,” you whispered, barely audible. “It’s okay.”

Then she leaned in—slowly, so slowly, like she was giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t.

Her forehead rested against yours for a beat. She exhaled your name like a prayer.

And then finally, finally…her lips found yours.

Soft. Tentative. Warm.

It wasn’t rushed, or clumsy, like you thought it might be. It was soft. Reverent. Like she’d been imagining it for a long time, and was finally brave enough to ask the question with her mouth. Her lips moved against yours like a secret, like she wanted to memorize the taste of you, learn you. Like she wanted to remember every second of this. One of her hands slid up your back, the other gently cradled the side of your face, grounding you both.

You kissed her back like your life depended on it.

Like all that heat, all that tension, all those almosts were finally allowed to become something real. You melted into her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her shoulder like she was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.

She pulled back just a little, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathless.

Her hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin like she couldn’t believe you were real. You were both holding your breath and breathing each other in at the same time.

Her voice was a whisper. “Fuck.”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Ellie looked stunned, like the weight of all the what-ifs had finally lifted and left her with this. With you.

“Can we…” She swallowed. “Can we do that again?”

You didn’t answer. You just kissed her again.

Slower this time. Deeper.

You smile into the kiss. She sighs into it.

Like there was no going back.

Everything softens.

The camera, somewhere between you, quietly flashes once.

Click.

You didn’t pull away right away.

Neither did she.

Your lips hovered against hers, like both of you were scared to break whatever spell this moment held, like even blinking too hard might ruin it.

Ellie was still holding you like she couldn’t believe you were real. One hand braced on your waist, the other lightly fisted in your shirt like she needed something to hold on to. Her breath was shaky against your mouth.

You were the first to pull back, just barely. Just enough to look at her. Enough to breathe, your forehead still pressed to hers. Both of you grinning dumb, breathless, shocked. Your heart pounding like it was going to crawl out of your chest.

She was flushed. Stunned. Her lashes fluttered like she was still catching up to herself.

“…Hey,” you whispered.

Her eyes flicked open, wide and a little dazed. “Hi.”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes crinkling.

Ellie laughed too, except it caught halfway, like it hurt a little. She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, her fingers trembling just slightly. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah. Holy shit,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

She gave you this look…half awe, half disbelief. “I wanted to do that for so long.”

Your heart clenched. “Me too.”

You were both just looking at each other. Like the world had narrowed down to this little pocket of space between your faces. Everything else felt quiet. Blurry.

She brushed her thumb gently across your cheekbone, like she was trying to memorize it. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me.”

“Not how I remember it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ellie smiled, and it was this small, crooked, completely undone kind of smile. The kind you’d only ever seen when she let her guard all the way down.

You shifted slightly in her lap, still close, still breathing the same air. “Is this gonna be weird now?” you asked quietly.

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think it could ever be weird with you.”

You leaned your forehead against hers. “Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

There was a soft, comfortable silence. Her hands were still on you. Yours resting lightly on her collarbone. Neither of you moved to get up.

You looked at her again. Her lips were pink and kiss bitten. Her eyes were glassy. You’d never seen her like this. Open, vulnerable, glowing.

“You’re gonna be in my dreams tonight,” you said, half a joke, half truth.

“Dirty ones I hope,” she whispered, and you gave her a playful smack to her chest.

You swallowed around the tight feeling in your throat. “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

Ellie nodded slowly, like her body agreed but her heart didn’t. She helped you off her lap, standing with you, both of you still quiet. Still stunned.

At the door, you lingered. So did she.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, voice soft.

Ellie smiled, warm, sure, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You stepped into the hallway. The door had barely begun to close behind you when she called out—

“Wait.”

You turned just in time for her to reach you. She kissed you again, this time messier, hungrier, like she couldn’t help herself. Like she wasn’t ready to let go. Like she needed to be sure this was real. That you were real.

And you were kissing her back, like it was the only thing that made sense.

When you finally pulled away, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. Lips glossy, a little swollen, you smiled shyly and stunned and glowing. Like you were in fucking highschool again and had just kissed someone in secret behind the bleachers.

“Goodnight, Ellie,” you whispered, the words almost getting lost in your smile.

Then you clicked the door shut.

Ellie was lying flat on her bed now, hands over her face, like if she stayed still enough she’d disappear.

She didn’t know how long she’d been there.

There was a camera lens digging into her side. Her tank top was riding up. She felt like she was vibrating out of her skin.

“Holy. Shit,” she muttered into her palms.

Her brain was looping like a broken record:

You kissed her. You fucking kissed her.

And she kissed you back.

She sat up too fast, ran a hand through her hair like it would knock some sense into her.

Was it stupid?

No.

It wasn’t stupid.

It was the most real thing she’d felt in years.

She let herself fall back down again, groaning.

“Fuuuck.”

You looked so pretty when you leaned in. So sure. Like you wanted her. Like maybe all those late nights and long stares and shared beds meant something after all.

Her fingers curled in her bedsheets. She felt insane.

And now you were gone. And she didn’t know what to do with herself. You said you’d see her tomorrow. But what if you changed your mind?

She almost got up three times to text you. Didn't.

What was she even supposed to say?

“Thanks for the kiss, save me my usual booth at the diner?”

She groaned again, grabbing a pillow and muffling a scream into it.

Then, a whisper to no one. “…I’m so fucked.”

But she was smiling when she said it.

And she already knew she’d wake up early tomorrow. Because you’d be at the diner. And maybe, if she didn’t completely combust she’d get to kiss you again.

Meanwhile, you leaned back against your apartment door after it shut, keys still in hand, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your brain was still buffering.

You kissed Ellie.

Your best friend. Who you had been in love with for god knows how long. And she kissed you back. She kissed you like she meant it. Like she’d been waiting for that moment just as much as you had.

You slid down the door slowly, heart thudding out a whole rhythm section. Your fingers brushed over your lips, like you had to double-check they were still there.

Still tingling.

Still hers.

Then the questions came flooding in. Was it real? Was it a real kiss or a heat-of-the-moment kiss? Did she regret it? What if you just ruined everything?

You let your head thud gently against the door. “Oh my god.”

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you jumped like it had caught you doing something illegal.

You pulled it out fast, breath hitching. It wasn’t her.

God, you wanted it to be her.

You stared at your screen like you could will her name to appear. She said she'd see you tomorrow.So why did that feel like an entire lifetime away?

You scrolled to her name.

Typed a message. Deleted it.

Typed again. Deleted again.

You ended up sending nothing.

Instead, you curled up in bed, fully clothed, heart thudding like it was too big for your ribs.

You couldn’t sleep. Because every time you closed your eyes, she was still there. And you didn’t want her to leave.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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[bi-writes]

What if 👀 what if we see when john proposes to the missus (is it too soon 😭) 🤩 they also live in my mind 24/7 you’re 🫵🏻 gonna be drowning in my asks

the key turns in the lock, nice and smooth this time. john oiled it before he left—he wanted this when he came, some sort of reminder that his hand has been here, in this house, so branded into its integrity that even the hinges no longer creak because he's made his nest here. (18+)

when he swings open the door, he doesn't recognize the sight.

you're sitting at the kitchen table with a sour expression on your face. there's a candle lit in the center, only one since the other has melted, so much so the wax is pooled underneath it next to the roast that's long since cold on its serving platter. there's glass of wine in front of you that's nearly empty, and a bottle within reach just as light.

john sucks on teeth a little as he drops his duffel bag by the door. the sound makes you flinch, and when he drops heavily into the seat across from you, he doesn't even react at the velvet box that sits on the table.

instead, he picks up his fork and starts to serve himself.

your eyes flick up to look at him, but he's too busy piling up meat and potatoes onto his plate. he takes off his hat and tosses it onto the table, and you scowl at the sight—you complain over and over again about that filthy fucking hat, and he has the nerve to set it down on the table like he's the one that's been working all day on a roast, molten chocolate lava cake, and tender mashed potatoes.

"you're late," you say. your voice croaks, hitching with your swallowed-down emotion. john takes his gloves off, tossing them beside the hat, and when he starts to undo the latches on his tact vest, you pick up your steak knife and pierce it right through the oak table. "don't you dare put that shit on my table."

"our table."

"oh, now you wanna chime in?"

john runs a few hands over his face. he looks tired. his beard is scruffy, more than usual, and the darkness under his eyes is heavy. his eyes aren't as bright as they normally are around you, and you find the tension in his shoulders to be especially wound. you don't care what he's gone through to get back to this table. maybe he fell out of a helicopter. maybe a bullet whizzed past his head and nearly splattered his brains. you don't fucking care—john price is sitting in front of you and eating the food you made and pretending like everything is just fine.

he laughs. it's humorless, but it angers you anyway. he's condescending; it's in his nature. when you question the way of things, when you try to put your foot down—you would punch him, but he'd ease out of the way, effortless, and it would annoy you greatly. then he'd probably take your wrists and pin them behind your back with one hand, and he'd smile doing it, because he's so much bigger than you, so much stronger. he kills people for less, it takes no effort to stifle the woman that shares his bed. everything is funny to him—everything is cute.

asshole.

"where'd you find tha'?" john asks. he doesn't look at it, but you know what he's talking about. you pick up the velvet box and pop it open. the ring blinds you. it must be at least three carats, a gorgeous thing, surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds around the band. it glitters, stunning, and if you were a stupider woman, you would've been wearing it already, but you're not.

"i found it when i was going through your shit," you spit at him. you tip your glass back and swallow down the rest of your wine. it goes down hot. "packing it for you."

"we goin' on a trip?"

"you certainly are."

john clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. he finally brings his eyes up to meet yours, and he brings a hand up to scratch at his beard.

"not leaving."

you laugh, too, smiling, bitter.

"i wasn't asking, john. but if you don't want your stuff, whatever. i'm sure it'll burn just fine."

john shoves his plate away from him, scooting his chair back. you expect him to get up, to come towards you. you expect him to grip you by the throat and bend you over the table so he can fuck you next to the extravagant meal you've made, but instead he huffs as you hear his belt buckle clink.

"what the fuck are you doing?" you scoff. john hums, grunting low, and then you watch with parted lips as he spits into the palm of his hand and lowers it. it's only a moment before he sighs deeply, a wet slick, slick, slick following the movement of his arm. "are you fucking serious?"

"mmm..." john clenches his jaw. "'s been awhile, love." he cracks his neck as he moves it from side to side, fixing his eyes on you as he moves his arm a little quicker. your lips tremble angrily, but you can't help the way you shift in your seat. your free hand plays with the hem of your skirt, and he rolls his shoulders back, licking his lips. "show me."

"fuck you."

"in a minute, love. show me."

you're shaking with anger. it's hot in your chest, making you buzz, but it doesn't stop your hands. it doesn't stop them from feeling over the collar of your blouse before you carefully undo the top buttons. john relaxes as he watches the fabric fall loose, and he hums knowingly when you drop the blouse and unclasp your bra.

your tits fall with a bounce. you're ashamed at how easy it is, to fall right back into the place you swore you would never go again. john groans, moving his chair back further, and you squeeze your thighs together as you watch his thick hand tug at his rigid cock with more and more of a chaotic rhythm.

"come 'ere."

"no."

"come here," john mutters. he says it in that way—that way you know that he won't ask again. he won't have to.

you stand on doe legs. they wobble, and you use the table as leverage, and when you make it in front of him, john pushes you until you're sitting on the edge of the table, right next to his half-eaten plate and his dirty gear. you flinch as he stands, stepping between your thighs, and you kiss as the tip of him presses against your drooling cunt. your legs rise, knees hooking around his hips, and john licks over his teeth as he keeps stroking himself.

"we've been over this," john growls. "haven't we, sweetheart?"

"i hate you."

"this is mine," john says into your ear. "your cunt. this house. this food—it's mine, and you know tha'. you love puttin' up a bloody brawl, i know tha', love, so i take it, but you won't be rid of me until i'm dead, y'hear tha'?"

"fuck you—"

"ugh—" john hisses. "gonna make me fuckin' come, love—"

john laughs through breathy moans when he feels you're wearing no knickers. sopping, pretty pussy just waiting for him—in his house, with his girl, the one that's about to have his name.

"john—"

his grip on your thighs is bruising as he pushes into you. just the tip, just enough to drive you insane, just in time for him to spill inside of you and fill you with a dizzying amount of cum. hot, sticky, messy—john's never been very good at cleaning up his messes. he seems to like it that way. he seems to like it ruined and overstimulated and begging.

he presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he pushes further inside of you. you'll ruin the wood underneath you being so wet, but john will fix it.

"when are y'gonna learn?" john murmurs. "hmm?"

"john..."

there is no john without you. you could run, but he'd find you. you could change the locks, but it wouldn't stop him from coming home. you could throw all of his things out, burn them, shred them, bury them, but he has no real ties to anything as trivial as things. john is a fixture in the air here. he lives in the wood that makes up the house. he's in your breaths that taste like cigar smoke. he's inside of you, hot, in the bruises that line your collarbone and your thighs and your hips. john is a rigid, immutable hook that is dug so far into your fleshy insides that it would be suicide to remove him from yourself.

he's a weed you cannot rid yourself of. you pick him out by the root, but he always comes back.

he kisses you like that—tits out, cunt drooling, engagement ring tossed aside just out of reach. you think he meant for you to find it. either as a result of your morbid curiosity or your temper tantrums—john probably figured whichever came first would be good enough.

he would never propose to you. you know this.

why the fuck would he ask you about something that's already a given?

in the morning, you're alone with your thoughts, watching the ring sparkle in the early sunlight. your hand is rested on his chest, moving with the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. you turn your hand over and stare at the thing—you aren't someone who's into material things so much. you appreciate them, but something about this new reality of yours makes you stare a little harder at the diamond, question the clarity just a little. you hope it made a huge dent in that wallet of his; you hope he gritted his teeth a little when he handed over his card.

you'll make his bank account weep. you're mrs. john fucking price.